The Garden of Accountability and Grace on First Harvest

The Garden of Accountability and Grace

We gather at the turning of the season—Lughnasadh, Lammas, the First Harvest marked the beginning of August. A festival of ripening, reaping, and reckoning. The days are still sunny. Boy howdy, the sun is still warming us! But the days are noticeably shortening. The fields are full, and the shadows are lengthening.

This is the beginning of the end of summer. And it's also a beginning of its own.

First Harvest invites us to pause. To honor what we have grown—what has grown in us. To ask: What did I sow? What am I harvesting from that? And perhaps more tenderly: What didn't grow? What seeds failed? What plantings began and then did not bear fruit? What needs to be composted?

We usually think of harvest as celebration time. But it's also accountability time.

Harvest and accountability say no to punishment, no to perfectionism, but yes to presence. 

They say yes to what is.

Accountability asks us to face the truth—face the truth of our impact, not just our intent. We check the field. Not the seed packet, not the planting plan, but the actual soil, the actual field, the actual fruit. What came up? What didn't? What failed to thrive?

Fresh picked tomatos on a bed of lettuce. Pixabay CC0

A Story

I want to share a story.

Several years ago, I was part of a community organization I believed in deeply. I showed up with good intentions, with energy, with training, with ideas. I thought I was helping. My vision was so sure. I had a plan.

But over time, I began to hear feedback—gentle at first, and then more direct—that my way of showing up was taking up too much space, was hurting certain individuals, was not working with the culture of that particular group. That I wasn't listening as well as I thought I was. I was trying to push a river that did not want to be pushed.

And I got defensive. I wanted to explain myself. I mean, I was right. But accountability isn't about defending our intentions—it's about listening to our impact.

I remembered a bus driver I knew. He would enforce traffic laws with his bus. He was right... but that was really dangerous. Someone could end up dead.

So I paused. I stepped back. I asked myself: What am I harvesting here? And the answer wasn't growth for the organization, it wasn't increased accountability for the board, it wasn't even improved relationships. In fact, I was poisoning the fields with my vision and approach.

I knew I needed to leave. I grieved, I grieved hard. And I was embarrassed. And I was angry. I mean, remember? I was right.

And I grew. I don't know if the organization improved its processes or became more accountable to its membership, but I was no longer flinging myself against a wall.

Turns out, being right isn't enough. I needed to change.

This experience taught me what Rev. Angel Kyodo Williams means when she writes: "Without inner change, there can be no outer change. Without collective change, no change matters."

Accountability is the inner change. It's the willingness to look at the garden honestly. To name what thrived—and what didn't.

Bus on Road, Columbus OH. Photo by Chris F. CC0

Where Grace Shows Up

And here's the thing: Accountability all on its own can feel heavy. It can feel exhausting, it can feel accusatory. It can feel like standing in the field and only noticing the withered crops, wondering where you went wrong.

So that's where grace needs to show up.

Grace isn't an escape hatch. It isn't a get-out-of-jail-free card. It's not letting ourselves off the hook. Grace is what makes staying accountable possible.

Grace is being the soft animal that is our body. Grace is being human. Grace is the peace of knowing what is and still loving yourself. Grace is compost. It takes what's decaying and makes that holy.

bell hooks reminds us: "Forgiveness is an act of love for the self and for others, and it opens up possibilities for grace."

Grace doesn't erase our accountability. It makes the transformation possible. With grace, you can take the withered stalks, the unsprouted seeds, the insect-eaten fruits, and you can plow them back into the soil and renew the garden's resilience.

Grace says: You are still worthy. You are still growing. You can try again.

Mustard Greens in Fall Garden. Photo by Eileen Kane, licensed as CC2.0

Holding Both

At first harvest, we hold both. In fact, here in Portugal, this time of first harvest is the time to plant for the next harvest. We get a do-over.

We grieve, and we celebrate. We mourn the crops that didn't make it. We tend to the ones that did. We name what we are proud of. We name what we regret.

We glean, we gather what's left at the margins—what might have been overlooked. We honor the imperfect abundance.

Remember that the garden is not just ours—it's shared. And so is the work of tending it. It's all of our garden.

Accountability and Grace in These Times

These questions of accountability and grace—they're not just for our personal gardens. They're for the public square too.

How do I stay accountable to myself, my loved ones, my neighbors—knowing that my neighbors include unhoused people, trans people, people of color, people whose very existence is under threat right now? Accountability here means checking my impact, not just my intent. It means asking: Am I showing up in ways that actually help, or am I just making myself feel better? Am I listening to the people most affected, or am I imposing my own vision of what help should look like?

And grace—how do I offer grace to folks who are lacking empathy or lacking comprehension of the harms being done in these times? Accountability is saying, "When you know better, you can do better." Grace is saying, "I will not condemn you for not knowing better." But grace doesn't mean being naive. It doesn't mean having no boundaries. I can believe someone is whole, holy, and worthy, and still choose not to talk with them. Grace can be protecting my energy for the work that matters. Grace can be saying "I see your humanity" without saying "and therefore I'll accept your harm."

How do we offer grace to ourselves so that we DO try again when we fail? Because we will fail. We'll say the wrong thing, miss the important thing, show up imperfectly. Grace says: You're still worthy. You're still growing. You can try again. And the world needs you to try again.

August Sunflowers. CC0 licensed photo by Mary Jane Duford from the WordPress Photo Directory.

An Invitation

So I invite you to reflect: What have you learned this year about accountability? Where are you being invited to extend grace—to yourself, to someone else? What does your harvest look like, really? What are you called to do with it?

How are you being called to tend the shared garden of our communities, our democracy, our world?

Blessing

We grieve the promises we could not keep. We grieve the seeds that didn't rise, the grace we withheld from others, from ourselves. We grieve what we hoarded and what we lost.

And still, the barley is there, bending golden in the field. Still the sun warms us. Still the earth says: Try again.

May you be honest about what grew. May you be gentle with what didn't. May your hands stay open—to give, to grieve, to gather. And may your heart learn the alchemy of grace.

Fires of Love, Fields of Labor: May Day Meets Workers’ Day

May Day: Honoring All the Work That Sustains Us

May 1st is a day of paradox and power. It’s Beltane, a time of fertility, fire, and renewal in Pagan traditions — when the Earth’s abundance begins to blossom, and we honor life bursting forth in all its forms. It’s also International Workers’ Day, a day of protest, remembrance, and solidarity rooted in the labor movement and the fight for dignity and justice for all who work.

These two May Days — one ancient, one modern — share more than a calendar date. Both remind us that life requires tending. That something sacred happens whenever people rise up, plant seeds, or care for one another. And both call us to remember: not all labor wears a uniform or draws a paycheck.

Ripe Figs, CC0

The Work ThatGrows the World

The Earth Works. We Work.

Beltane is a celebration of Earth’s labor — the flowering, the fruiting, the unseen toil of root and mycelium. It’s also a reminder that human survival depends on the often invisible work of care: food grown, meals cooked, children held, elders supported, bodies and communities tended.

International Workers’ Day lifts up the labor struggles of wage earners — especially those who’ve been exploited, underpaid, or made invisible by systems that value profit over people. But the meaning of “worker” cannot stop at factory gates or office doors.

Judy Heumann and Barbara Ransom pose for a photograph at TASH's Outstanding Leadership in Disability Law Symposium and Awards Dinner on July 25, 2019. Photo by Bailey Hill CC4.0

The Work of Surviving

So many people — especially disabled, queer, racialized, and impoverished folks — do not survive because they are “productive.” They survive through grit, mutual aid, community, and the sacred labor of persistence.

There is holy work in getting out of bed when the world is heavy.

There is holy work in navigating systems that weren’t built for your body or brain.

There is holy work in staying alive, in dreaming of something better, in loving what the world tells you is unlovable.

Women’s Work, Love’s Work

Historically, “women’s work” — often unpaid, often unseen — has included birthing, feeding, caregiving, cleaning, mending, nursing, comforting, teaching. This labor is the backbone of every society, yet so rarely honored.

And what about the work of loving? Loving our people, our communities, the land, the sacred, ourselves? That’s not soft. That’s revolutionary. Love is a practice. A risk. A labor.

A boxing club on a snowy day in Lower Manhattan

Try It: Expand Your Definition of Work

• Name a kind of work you do that you’ve never been paid for. Say it aloud. Claim it. It counts.
• Honor someone in your life who works in unseen or undervalued ways — send a note, light a candle, share their story.
• Join in collective action — not just protests, but community meals, mutual aid drives, or spaces of joy and solidarity. The work of changing the world is shared.

Stonehenge on May 1, photo by “Stonehenge tours” CC2.0

Sacred Renewal, Fierce Solidarity

Beltane reminds us that renewal is possible. That growth follows long winters. That life insists.

International Workers’ Day reminds us that no one is free until all are free. That change is built through collective effort. That every kind of laborer deserves respect and rest.

So today, may we:

• Celebrate what is blossoming
• Refuse what is dehumanizing
• Honor all the work — waged and unwaged, visible and invisible — that sustains life

You are whole, holy, and worthy.
Your work — all of it — matters.

Rev. Amy

Holding On to What is Good

Holding On

What does it mean  to hold on—especially in times of chaos and fear? There’s no shortage of challenges in our world, and whether they’re global or personal, we all face moments when it feels like we’re being pulled under by the currents of uncertainty, panic, or rage. But holding on is not just about surviving; it’s about thriving, as best we can. Holding on is about finding strength, grounding, and meaning in the midst of the storm.

Nancy Wood’s words resonate - repeating in my head:

“Hold on to what is good, even if it is a handful of earth. Hold on to what you believe, even if it is a tree which stands by itself. Hold on to life, even when it is easier letting go.”

The Author's Garden (Garlic in February) Photo by Hawthorne Post

Hold on to Earth

What does it mean to hold on to a handful of earth? It means grounding ourselves in the tangible and the sacred. The earth is our anchor. When chaos swirls, take a moment to feel the ground beneath you. Let it remind you that you are connected to something greater. The soil holds seeds of renewal and reminds us that even in our darkest winters, life is waiting to bloom again.

The earth is our anchor. When chaos swirls, take a moment to feel the soil between your fingers, the coolness of a stone, the steady weight of the ground beneath you.

What is true? Are you still here in this moment? Still breathing, heart still beating? Say to yourself – I survived another day. Yahoo! That’s worth holding onto, recognizing, and celebrating.

Hold on to Spirit

What about holding on to what you believe, even if it’s a solitary tree? Sometimes, holding on to your faith or values can feel isolating, like standing alone in a storm. Yet, that solitary tree is resilient because its roots run deep. Tree roots connect and communicate with other tree roots. Similarly, we can draw strength from our own roots—our spiritual communities, our relationships, and our connection to what we hold holy. We have other roots. We come from people who survived. They may have lived through horror or hardship or just the struggle of daily existence. These roots keep us steady when the wind howls.

In these moments, the wisdom of Mr. Rogers comes to mind: “Look for the helpers.” Holding on does not mean holding on alone. When chaos strikes, we find our strength not only within but also in the hands of others. Community is the antidote to fear. When you feel like letting go, let someone else hold on for you. When someone else is struggling, be their helper.

When you feel lost, I invite you to slow down for a moment. Notice who your helpers are. I used to notice my dog's soft ears, and now I look for a cat to plop in my lap. When I worked in a hospital, I'd take a detour by the babies' window. Do you have a formal or informal spiritual companion? A favorite TV show? I invite you to write these down. You can come back to this list in moments when you forget. 

The Author's Garden (600-year-old Alfarroba) Photo by Hawthorne Post

Hold on to Love

This truth is echoed in the music that uplifts us. The song “Hold On” by All Good Things reminds us to keep moving forward: “We’ve been walking through the fire, but we’ll make it out alive.” It’s a battle cry to resist the undertow of despair. Katie Nichole’s “Hold On” echoes a similar theme: “Hold on just a little bit longer. Help is on the way.” These songs remind us that even in our lowest moments, possibility is closer than we think.

As the American coup unfolded, I was overwhelmed (I still am as of this writing). Then a fragment of song wafted through my mind. I didn't remember it all, but the music was sweet. And enough of the words were clear: the words to the Nancy Wood poem, "Hold on to what is good," and for a moment, everything softened. Sometimes, love shows up like that.

What is a good that you hang into? Earth, air, fire or water? Human, animal, vegetable, or mineral? In “Something Good” from The Sound of Music, Julie Andrews and Christopher Plummer sing about love despite running from dangerous Nazi recruiters. Yes, even in the midst of life’s chaos, beauty and goodness still exist and may emerge from within. When we stay open to possibility, we make space for something good to find us, even when we least expect it.

Hold on to Life

Hold on to life—even when it is easier letting go. Holding on is not just about endurance; it is about holding on to joy, to those moments of light that break through even the darkest days. A baby’s smile, unguarded and full of wonder. The scent of rain on dry earth. A song that lifts your heart. These are not small things; they are the very things that tether us to life itself. Joy is an act of resistance, as Toi Derricotte reminds us—not because the pain isn’t real, but because it must not be all we know.

Let joy interrupt the sorrow. Let laughter insist on being heard. Let beauty demand its place, even when grief feels overwhelming. To hold on to life is to make space for all of it—the struggle and the sweetness, the sorrow and the song. This is how we resist the undertow. This is how we hold on.

What is something good you can hold onto right now? A memory? A song? A breath? Name it. Let it be an anchor.

CC0

Hold on to One Another

Let’s return to the final lines of Nancy Wood’s poem:

"Hold on to my hand, even when I have gone away from you."

Even when the world feels uncertain, love does not vanish. The strength we have shared, the kindness we have offered, the hands we have held—all of it remains.

So how do we resist the undertow in times of chaos and fear? We hold on. We hold on to the earth, steady beneath us. We hold on to each other, trusting that we do not have to do this alone. We hold on to love, even when it feels distant. And we hold on to the sacred, knowing that something greater than fear is always present.

When the waves rise, let’s reach for one another. Let's ask for help and let’s be helpers. Let’s remind each other that this moment, this heartbeat, this love, matters.

Beloved, you are whole, holy, and worthy. Blessed be.

Rev. Amy

Sacred Storytelling: Healing and Power of Narrative

Sacred Storytelling: The Power of Story in Spiritual Direction

Stories shape our understanding of ourselves, our communities, and the sacred. Myth and storytelling are not just relics of the past but living tools that offer seekers insight, healing, and empowerment. In spiritual direction, the art of storytelling can foster resilience, build community, and invite seekers into deeper engagement with their own spiritual journeys. 

Storytelling and myth serve as sacred mirrors, reflecting the struggles, transformations, and wisdom embedded in human experience. Whether through ancient myths, personal narratives, or creative reimaginings, stories help seekers make meaning of their lives and find pathways forward. As spiritual caregivers, we can invite seekers to engage with stories in ways that illuminate their journeys and deepen their connection to the sacred.

Peter loses his jacket. Illustration from “The Tale of Peter Rabbit” by Beatrix Potter

See also The Heart of Spiritual Companioning: http://abeltaine.blogspot.com/2025/03/the-heart-of-spiritual-companioning.html

The Role of Myth in Spiritual Direction

"Myths are seldom simple, and never irresponsible." — Robert Graves
"Mythology is not a lie, mythology is poetry, it is metaphorical. It has been well said that mythology is the penultimate truth—penultimate because the ultimate cannot be put into words. It is beyond words. Beyond images, beyond that bounding rim of the Buddhist Wheel of Becoming. Mythology pitches the mind beyond that rim, to what can be known but not told." — Joseph Campbell

Myth is a powerful language of the soul. It weaves together symbols, archetypes, and narratives that resonate with deep truths about human experience. In spiritual direction, myths can serve as:

• Guides for meaning-making – Myths illuminate the human journey, providing frameworks for seekers to interpret their lives.

• Invitations to transformation – Through myth, seekers can recognize their own initiations, trials, and returns.

• Ways of encountering the Sacred – Myths carry the wisdom of generations, revealing spiritual truths through story.

Myth and the Hero’s Journey

Joseph Campbell popularized the "hero’s journey" as a universal narrative structure. This monomyth has influenced storytelling, movie-making, and spiritual reflection. While it offers a powerful framework, it often reflects a young adult, hunter-warrior model that may not resonate with all seekers. Maureen Murdock’s "heroine’s journey" provides an alternative, offering deeper insight into different genders, roles, and stages of life. Social location, including gender, age, and culture, significantly influences how a person’s spiritual journey unfolds. Seekers don't need to feel constrained by a monomyth. Invite yourself, and your seeker to explore and embrace their own mythic patterns, finding stories that resonate with their unique path.

Myth, Power, and Transformation

Starhawk has used traditional myths to explore power and justice. In Truth or Dare, she reinterprets the Inanna myth as a guide for transforming authority. In The Twelve Wild Swans, she offers a mythic structure for initiation into Reclaiming witchcraft. These reinterpretations show how myth can:

• Support seekers in navigating change – Myths of descent and return can guide those in transition or crisis.

• Challenge oppressive narratives – Retelling and reclaiming myths can offer alternative visions of power and healing.

• Deepen connection to spiritual traditions – Many spiritual paths, from Pagan mythologies to Abrahamic sacred texts, use story as a vehicle for wisdom.

Myth and story are the bedrock of many Pagan paths, from the Welsh Mabinogion and the Irish Táin Bó Cuailnge to the stories of the Aesir and the shenanigans of the Greek Gods.

Buddhist story describing enlightenment journey “The Ten Ox Pictures”, source: Reddit 

Midrash: A Jewish Approach to Sacred Storytelling

From Sacred Therapy by Estelle Frankel:

"The ancient sages taught that every story, word, letter, or nuance of Torah can be simultaneously understood on many different levels. They referred to this multiplicity of meanings by the Hebrew acronym PRDS (pronounced “pardes”), which implies an orchard: “P” (peh) stands for the pshat, or literal meaning of a text; “R” (resh) stands for remez, the symbolic meaning that is hinted at; “D” (dalet) stands for the drash, or those meanings that can be extracted through deeper analysis of language and word associations or through the imaginative process of the unconscious; and “S” (samech) stands for sod, the secret, mystical understanding of the text."

Midrash is the Jewish tradition of interpreting sacred stories by filling in gaps, offering creative reimaginings, and seeking deeper meanings. Many Hasidic masters engaged in midrash as a means of offering spiritual, emotional, and moral guidance to their followers.

For some delightful midrashim, see Does God Have a Big Toe?: Stories About Stories in the Bible by Marc Gellman.

Non-Western Storytelling

These traditions offer rich alternatives to Western models of story-sharing and story-receiving, emphasizing communal experience, ancestral wisdom, and non-linear approaches to insight.

Indigenous Storytelling

For many Indigenous cultures, storytelling is not just a way to share history but a spiritual practice. Stories carry wisdom across generations, teaching sacred values, identity, and relationship with the land and spirit. In Indigenous wisdom circles, elders or knowledge keepers may share a story, allowing the group to sit with its meaning before engaging in reflection. Unlike Western models of spiritual direction, which often emphasize verbal processing and individual insight, Indigenous storytelling invites a more intuitive and communal form of engagement.

• Practice: A group may listen to a traditional story without immediate discussion, allowing time for contemplation. Later, participants share how the story resonates with their lives, trusting that meaning will emerge organically.

• Example: In Haudenosaunee (Iroquois) traditions, the Great Law of Peace is passed down through storytelling, guiding communal decision-making and spiritual growth.

Sufi Stories and Reflection

Sufi traditions often use parables and poetry to convey deep spiritual truths. These stories—found in the works of Rumi, Attar, and other Sufi mystics—are designed to bypass the analytical mind and speak directly to the heart. A teacher or elder may recite a story, inviting the listener(s) to witness without rushing to interpretation. Over time, meaning unfolds differently for each seeker, mirroring the mystical path itself.

• Practice: A facilitator reads a Sufi story aloud, and the group sits in silent contemplation before sharing insights. Unlike structured discussion, the emphasis is on personal resonance rather than debate or analysis.

• Example: The story of Moses and the Shepherd (told by Rumi) challenges rigid religious views, illustrating that each person’s way of relating to the Divine is unique. This story can open space for deep reflection on the sacred diversity of spiritual experience.

Buddhist Koans and Meditative Dialogue

In Zen Buddhism, koans are paradoxical or enigmatic sayings designed to break habitual thinking and lead to direct insight. Koans are traditionally contemplated in solitude, but some Buddhist communities use them in group practice. Instead of striving for an intellectual answer, participants hold the koan in silence, allowing insights to surface naturally.

• Practice: An elder and student sit with a koan (such as “What is the sound of one hand clapping?”), allowing responses to arise spontaneously. Insights are shared without judgment, recognizing that wisdom often emerges through paradox.

• Example: The koan “What was your original face before you were born?” invites deep reflection on identity, selfhood, and interconnectedness.

Honoring Diverse Paths

These traditions remind us that spiritual wisdom is not always found through direct answers but through deep listening, shared reflection, and the patience to sit with mystery. Whether through Indigenous storytelling, Sufi parables, or Zen koans, non-Western traditions offer valuable ways to practice spiritual exploration beyond Western frameworks. Spiritual direction work can be enriched by incorporating these methods, allowing seekers to engage with sacred stories, symbols, and silence in new and meaningful ways.

Rosenfeld Media  CC2.0

Storytelling as a Tool for Resilience and Community

Oppression, trauma, and hardship often fragment a person’s sense of self and purpose. Storytelling has long been a means of reclaiming identity and agency. In spiritual direction, myth and personal narrative can help seekers:

• Reframe their experiences – Drawing on myths of transformation, seekers can recognize their struggles as part of a larger, meaningful journey.

• Access inner strength – Stories of perseverance remind seekers of their own resilience and capacity to endure.

• Engage in self-reflection – Guided storytelling exercises allow seekers to explore their personal narratives with new perspectives.

• Build community bonds – Shared storytelling fosters a sense of belonging and collective wisdom. Margaret Wheatley highlights how stories create connection and meaning within communities.

  [See also this post on group spiritual direction work:https://abeltaine.blogspot.com/2025/03/group-spiritual-direction.html.]

Spiritual Autobiography: Naming Our Sacred Stories

A spiritual autobiography is a powerful way to reflect on one’s journey with the sacred. Writing one's story can be an act of meaning-making, healing, and discovery. As Karen Hering writes in Writing to Wake the Soul:

"If we are literate and enjoy the rights of free speech, it can be easy to forget that to tell one’s story is a basic human need, and to put it down in writing is a way of being seen that can have profound implications."

Telling our spiritual stories allows us to name our experiences, trace patterns of growth, and recognize the ways we have been shaped by faith, struggle, and transformation. As Nigerian writer Ben Okri puts it, "Change the stories individuals and nations live by and tell themselves, and you change the individuals and nations."

Writing a Spiritual Autobiography

Deborah Wilbrink provides a structured process for writing a spiritual autobiography, offering guidance on organizing memories, reflecting on key moments, and shaping a cohesive narrative. Writing prompts can also be helpful in beginning this process. Here are some prompts to explore.

Faith itself can be understood as a verb, an active engagement with the sacred. Wilfred Cantwell Smith suggests that the root of "believe" stems from an Old German word meaning "to hold dear." This suggests that faith is not static but an ongoing relationship of commitment, trust, and transformation. Hering invites writers to explore their faith through verbs—asking how faith moves, grows, and transforms in their lives. Life review is a form of spiritual autobiography. A reflective exercise might include filling in the phrase:

Faith ______ . . .

Using different action words, such as leaps, cradles, embraces, or unfolds, can reveal new insights into one’s spiritual path.

[See also this post on journaling in spiritual direction work: https://abeltaine.blogspot.com/2025/03/group-spiritual-direction.html.]

Bgblogging CC2.0

Inviting Story into a Spiritual Direction Session

Stories are a gateway to deeper understanding, healing, and transformation. In spiritual direction, we honor seekers' narratives as sacred, recognizing the wisdom held within their experiences. Inviting seekers to explore their lives through myth and story can offer profound insight—whether they find themselves wrestling with an angel, journeying through an underworld, or standing at the threshold of renewal.

See also this post on finding a spiritual companion: https://abeltaine.blogspot.com/2025/02/finding-right-spiritual-companion.html.

As a spiritual companion, you might ask: Is there a story that mirrors your experience? Perhaps the myth of Inanna’s descent resonates, or a tale from their own tradition holds meaning. Sharing stories must always be done with care and consent, ensuring that the seeker feels seen, supported, and free to interpret their journey in a way that feels true to them.

Just as we invite seekers to reflect on their stories, it is essential to notice our own. What narratives shape your understanding of accompaniment? What myths or personal experiences inform your presence as a guide? By attending to our own sacred stories, we cultivate the humility and openness necessary to travel alongside others with deep listening and compassion.

Beloved, you are whole, holy, and worthy,

Rev. Amy

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For Further Reading

Books

• Marc Gellman, Does God Have a Big Toe?: Stories About Stories in the Bible A delightful collection of midrashic retellings of biblical stories, encouraging readers to explore multiple layers of meaning.

• Margaret Wheatley, Who Do We Choose to Be? Facing Reality, Claiming Leadership, Restoring Sanity Wheatley explores the role of storytelling in leadership, community resilience, and meaning-making.

• Karen Hering, Writing to Wake the Soul A reflective guide to spiritual autobiography and writing as a sacred practice.

• Estelle Frankel, Sacred Therapy: Jewish Wisdom for Healing the Soul Explores Hasidic storytelling and midrash as tools for healing, love, and spiritual connection.

• Deborah Wilbrink, Time to Tell: Your Personal & Family Story Offers a structured approach to writing a spiritual autobiography, including writing prompts and exercises.

• Maureen Murdock, The Heroine’s Journey: Woman’s Quest for Wholeness A feminist reframing of Joseph Campbell’s Hero’s Journey, offering an alternative mythic structure for personal and spiritual transformation.

• Joseph Bruchac, Our Stories Remember: American Indian History, Culture, and Values through Storytelling. Golden, CO: Fulcrum Publishing, 2003. This book explores Indigenous storytelling traditions, wisdom-sharing, and communal reflection, offering insights relevant to group discernment and sacred listening practices.

Diane M. Mills, Deepening Engagement: Essential Wisdom for Listening and Leading with Purpose, Meaning, and Joy. SkyLight Paths, 2015. Explores how to cultivate deeper presence and sacred listening, offering practical insights that apply to storytelling in spiritual direction.

Articles, Podcasts, and Online Resources

Margaret Wheatley on Listening as Healing Explores how deep listening and storytelling foster healing and community resilience. https://margaretwheatley.com/articles/listening-as-healing

Emily Esfahani Smith – The Two Kinds of Stories We Tell About Ourselves (TED Talk) Examines how the narratives we construct about our lives shape our identity and well-being. https://ideas.ted.com/the-two-kinds-of-stories-we-tell-about-ourselves

Arielle Domb – The Beautiful Truth: Stories About Ourselves A reflective piece on how we shape and reshape our personal stories. https://thebeautifultruth.org/life/identity/stories-ourselves

Deborah Wilbrink, Writing Your Spiritual Autobiography An introduction to the process of writing a spiritual autobiography. https://web.archive.org/web/20230927035700/https://www.perfectmemoirs.com/write-spiritual-autobiography-deborah-wilbrink/

Goodreads List: The Best Spiritual Autobiographies A curated list of memoirs and autobiographies that explore spiritual journeys. https://www.goodreads.com/list/show/4110.The_Best_Spiritual_Autobiographies

Writing Prompts for Spiritual Autobiography A helpful guide with prompts to start writing about one’s spiritual journey. https://networlding.com/write-spiritual-autobiography

Sacred Stories Podcast by Rabbi Jessica Marshall Features personal spiritual stories from various traditions. Recommended episodes: Lyssa’s story, Bronwyn’s story, Wil’s story. https://www.sacredstories.com/podcasts/

Maureen Murdock’s The Heroine’s Journey A detailed exploration of the feminine counterpart to Campbell’s Hero’s Journey. https://heroinejourneys.com/heroines-journey/

Quotes on Myth and Storytelling

Teilhard de Chardin (1881–1955)

“Everything is the sum of the past… nothing is comprehensible except through its history. ‘Nature’ is the equivalent of ‘becoming’, self-creation: this is the view to which experience irresistibly leads us.”

President Barack Obama

“If you listen hard enough, everybody’s got a sacred story. . . How did they come to believe what they believe? And what are they trying to pass on to their children?. . . An organizing story, of who they are and what their place in the world is.”

Robert Graves

“Myths are seldom simple, and never irresponsible.”

Joseph Campbell

“Mythology is not a lie, mythology is poetry, it is metaphorical. It has been well said that mythology is the penultimate truth—penultimate because the ultimate cannot be put into words. It is beyond words. Beyond images, beyond that bounding rim of the Buddhist Wheel of Becoming. Mythology pitches the mind beyond that rim, to what can be known but not told.”

Erich Fromm

“Both dreams and myths are important communications from ourselves to ourselves. If we do not understand the language in which they are written, we miss a great deal of what we know and tell ourselves in those hours when we are not busy manipulating the outside world.”

Claude Lévi-Strauss

“I therefore claim to show, not how men think in myths, but how myths operate in men’s minds without their being aware of the fact.”

Clarissa Pinkola Estés

“I hope you will go out and let stories, that is life, happen to you, and that you will work with these stories… water them with your blood and tears and your laughter till they bloom, till you yourself burst into bloom. That is the work. The only work. ... In mythos and fairy tales, deities and other great spirits test the hearts of humans by showing up in various forms that disguise their divinity. They show up in robes, rags, silver sashes, or with muddy feet. They show up with skin dark as old wood, or in scales made of rose petal, as a frail child, as a lime-yellow old woman, as a man who cannot speak, or as an animal who can. The great powers are testing to see if humans have yet learned to recognize the greatness of soul in all its varying forms. ...Asking the proper question is the central action of transformation- in fairy tales, in analysis, and in individuation. The key question causes germination of consciousness. The properly shaped question always emanates from an essential curiosity about what stands behind. Questions are the keys that cause the secret doors of the psyche to swing open."