Strong-Moon Women’s Gathering

Strong-Moon Women’s Gathering

The Full Moon of June is the Strong Moon, aligned with the fire of summer and the alliance of the third chakra associated with strength, power & courage.

Think Warrior Pose.
Or better yet–GODDESS!

The third chakra is also associated with the yogic principle of ahimsa–non-violence–which is an inside-out practice.

Join a warm & welcoming gathering of women at my kitchen table on MacArthur Road in Marlboro–to write, move, listen, speak, create & express–in a journey through the body’s energy centers (aka. “chakras”) exploring our relationship to strength.

Women of all ages welcome. Skill & experience irrelevant. Come as you are. Curious. Hesitant. Weary. Energized. Introverted. Extroverted. Light. Burdened. Fearful. Hopeful. Ready.

Together we’ll shape a tapestry of strength, vitality & courage. Gently led from the inside out.

Host and lifelong educator KELLY SALASIN has been guiding women through the chakras locally, regionally and online for over a decade. She is a yoga teacher, a Let Your Yoga Dance instructor, the creator of Writing through the Chakras. She has studied with renown chakra author Anodea Judith and she is a regular assistant to leading presenters at Kripalu Yoga & Health Center, as well as an NGO delegate at the annual United Nations Commission on the Status of Women.

CLAIM YOUR SPACE in the Strong Moon Gathering with the link below. (Add your name & email address to the payment along with a few lines about what most attracts you to this exploration of strength/focus/power at this moment in time.)

Strong-Moon Gathering for Women


Thursday, June 28th
6:30 pm
Marlboro, Vermont



The outdoor shower & other seasonal returns

The outdoor shower & other seasonal returns

With the sunrise, comes a new chorus of flutes from the deepening green wood; and then, what’s that?

Could it be?

My husband jumps out from under the covers and looks through the window to the outcropping of rocks off our back door.

He sees both parents and… One, two, three, FOUR!

A bonus baby this year!

And upon these notes we open the woods shower for the season, passing by their den on the stone path, and returning freshly showered, with bluet-petaled feet.

Vermont & Technology

Vermont & Technology

We relocated to Vermont just as home computers (and chat rooms) arrived on the scene of daily life.

Looking back:

Today is Friday, June 3rd, and it is our first time on the computer!

We just bought a Mac Performa. We ordered it Tuesday night and had it set up in our livingroom here by Thursday night … crazy!! Now we’re trying to figure out how to work everything.

Boy, I sure wish I didn’t cheat in my highschool typing class…hunt and peck is tough these days, now that everyone has computers. I thought I’d only need typing for college term papers, and I always had other people do those for me…or at least I had the time to spare to stay up all night typing.

We can’t get this document to print so I keep babbling on here … let’s try again!

Still not working…thingsaregettingtense!!!

Now we’re on the phone with the hotline people…things are never how you expect 😦

😦 😦 😦 these are computer sad faces

so it sounds like we have a defective something…Case is giving our address for a federal express… 😦 😦
this sucks!!!!

now Case is asking, “Where in New Hampshire?” …can you believe this!!!

Well, I’m getting off this program since we obviously can’t print anything…I guess I’ll try something else now, maybe monopoly … sure!


Fast-forward 24 years and Vermont has created an attractive package for remote workers who relocate to Vermont in 2019. Stay to Stay programs too.

Click here to find out more!

Summer at the shore

Summer at the shore

The days leading up to Memorial Day weekend have a certain charge in a sleepy seashore town that lends any extraneous tourists like myself irrelevant, and beside the point, and almost tiresome because at any moment, the real guests will arrive, and for now they must endure us, like we once endured the great aunts at our graduation party before heading out to join friends around a bonfire.

Conversely, copious amounts of attention are given to the outliers like myself due to the high ratio of not only management but owners ready and waiting for the great explosion of humanity and cash flow. (God, let there be sun!)

Despite the empty establishments, there is an odd urgency in the air, like animals before a storm, so overcharged are they all in expectation, an energy which they disperse on unsuspecting guests as if to demonstrate in self-congratulatory fashion how much even the highest ranking member cares about the extraneous customer:

“How is everything? Do you need anything? Are you enjoying everything?”

By the time I leave my quiet window seat, I am exhausted, and they are relieved to be free of me, free of the saccharin attention one must muster for young children while facing a deadline.

Now to the real work—the menu updates, the food orders, the outdoor chairs and tables, the screens, the fresh paint (will it dry in time!), the last minute hiring for the kitchen, the patio stones that were supposed to be in place weeks ago but now require the unlikely effort of owners and both the day and night managers as well as the new dishwasher who doesn’t speak much English, but who seems willing to please for $11 an hour. (An amount that will never cover rent, let alone groceries, or medical care.)

Overall, the staff cannot wait for summer to be underway to be free of the managers (soon to be distracted by bank deposits), while the managers can’t wait to be free of the owners (soon to be spending said bank deposits.)

While even the well seasoned servers who typically play their roles effortlessly, fumble with extra steps, bumping into each other in the empty space, while their brains reboot patterns long dormant through winter, as ancient frustrations arise without any effort at all—that old bar broom with the bent bristles, the trash can whose bags fit almost perfectly, the teacups that must be wiped before use because the owner insists on a charming display.

But in 72, 48, 24 hours… the New Year rings in… and everyone–the dishwasher, the server, the manager, the owner, the tourist–becomes a teenager again.


Mountaintop Seduction

Mountaintop Seduction

Spring comes slowly to the mountains, and sometimes, seemingly, not at all.
all those many weeks with a stick-filled horizon against muted skies.
patches of snow holding claim to the ground.

But there is a gift in all this waiting–
the fine-tuning of attention
Where magic resides…

That first stencil of leaf
In golden hues
“Nature’s first green.”

And it is the poet,
inside each us, who is awakened
by these subtle shades of hope.

Little by little, and sometimes, seemingly,
“in great leaps,”
the land awakens in a chorus of color.

Which is almost true in the valley, with
its daffodils & dandelions, but not yet
on the mountaintop.

Here the seduction is slower,

Maple buds up the driveway
Spreads of greening across the lawn
The first violets
The return of the chives
The lady’s mantle whose leaves have opened
just enough
to hold
the morning dew.



New Yorkers are brusque, broody, as if they all have agreed that no one will be happy
And this gives a certain tilt to the island, all the while New Yorkers are oddly compliant, say about moving through a subway station, and also helpful if you ask, and often earnest.

I almost lived among them once when I was just out of college
until I learned that my friend’s apartment was on the 37th floor
and that’s too far away from the earth for me,
and so head hung low,
I returned to the shore,
and promptly had my heart skewered
which primed it for falling in love with Casey,
and losing a baby
and moving to Vermont…

But I would’ve liked to have gotten to know New Yorkers more.

Maybe someday I’ll learn to live apart from the ground.

On Returning…

On Returning…

Though our dream to move to the mountains took shape 25 years ago this spring (after we lost the baby), we continue to return to the sea at least once a year, and back in those early years, we returned every season.

And although these Green Mountains are where we belong, the return is always a homecoming, not only to the place where our love took root more than 3 decades ago, but to his people, and especially my people, because there are so many of us, and because we go back so many generations, and to the sea and the sand and the land itself.

With so many touchstones, each visit is like a putting together a thousand-piece puzzle, and over time, I’ve begun to play with it ahead of the return so that I might be more present once there, particularly as our time there continues to shrink while our family there continues to expand.

And so it is that this week brings the maddening/thrilling algebraic acrobatics of making connections and plans with 6 different siblings & their kids (some grown and on their own) and with what remains of 3 sets of parents, and also a stepgrandmother & her fiance, a great aunt & her son, dozens of cousins, aunts & uncles, a friend or two, and once in blue moon if we’re especially lucky–a beloved colleague.

Sometimes I forget an entire branch of our lives.

Sometimes I get so aborbed by balancing the equation that I miss the sweetness of the faces and the sea and the memory space of home.

Increasingly so, I take time apart from it all, simply to steep in place, alone, and instead of telling myself that I am not enough, that the time we spend is not enough, that the visit is too cumbersome, too far, too much, I let another voice in… the one that says that the Return is sacred, and as such things will fall into place (like running into a cousin’s family at the ice cream parlor, or old friends at a distant relative’s funeral), while simultaneously letting so. much. go. like we once did, 25 years ago, heartbroken, leaving the sea to make a new home of our own.