<![CDATA[Miriam's Wisdom: Inner Tools for Leadership and Life: 🎨 Creative play]]>https://www.miriamswisdom.com/s/creativityhttps://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/$s_!AkJM!,w_256,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F725421ee-8263-4bb3-bc52-efb00705496d_415x415.pngMiriam's Wisdom: Inner Tools for Leadership and Life: 🎨 Creative playhttps://www.miriamswisdom.com/s/creativitySubstackWed, 03 Jun 2026 16:08:01 GMT<![CDATA[On the strength of women]]>https://www.miriamswisdom.com/p/on-the-strength-of-womenhttps://www.miriamswisdom.com/p/on-the-strength-of-womenTue, 10 Mar 2026 12:51:51 GMTI wrote this poem about a year ago, to honor the lovely (and strong!) Miryam of . 

On the strength of women
by Heather L. Rollins
April 27, 2025

They tell us women we are weak
They call us the fair ones
They tell us the world is cruel
They keep us home to keep us safe
They do not know this only 
	keeps the world safe from us.

They do not know us
We are not safe!
We are a danger and a risk to all
The world is not safe from women
The world is not safe 
	from daughters and mothers and wives.

You say you are not strong
I say you have not seen your strength
Nor have I seen mine 
They said I was weak
They labeled me fragile
They were wrong
The world is not safe from me, 
	the world is not safe from you.

I shout out that we women are strong
I say our strength is like water
I say our strength is like silence
They keep us home where we get stronger
They do not know that by this
	we grow into fearsome Mother Bear.

They do not know us
We are the Mighty River
We are erosion by Wind and by Time
We are the Voice of Accountability
We are whipping Weeping Willow 
The world is not safe
	from all the power of mighty women.

Sing a song of the strength of women!
Sing of the fierce fair ones!
Sing of kindness in the midst of cruelty!
Sing of the den of Mother Bear!
Sing of a world made safe
	by the mightiness of women!

Last week, in a study group, we talked about Rabbi Akiva, one of the most significant sages from our tradition. The text we discussed included the image of water dripping on a stone every day, gradually wearing it away. We discussed change, that sometimes change is a huge event, like lightning striking a mountain and setting off a rockslide, more often change is the dropping water, carving the rock over many years. It reminded me of this poem.

Water flows through carved rock formations
Photo by Winston Chen on Unsplash

Some may say it takes strength to act, and this is true. I say it takes strength to refrain, to restrain, to act only a little. After all, I am only one water drop, and you are only one water drop. But together, we are a flood. Together we make holes in stones and carve the faces of mountains. We are women, and we are strong.

]]><![CDATA[Prayer: A poem]]>https://www.miriamswisdom.com/p/prayer-a-poemhttps://www.miriamswisdom.com/p/prayer-a-poemWed, 23 Jul 2025 22:45:09 GMT
You are light.
You are song.
You are flame.
You are prayer.

Burn!

This summer I’m participating in a workshop on leading davening, or Jewish prayer. This means, of course, studying Jewish prayer. I missed our session last week and just finished watching the recording, which filled me with prayer and song and fire.

Shine! Sing! Burn!

Pray!

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]]><![CDATA[Where is God? A video-poem for all who wonder]]>https://www.miriamswisdom.com/p/where-is-god-a-video-poem-for-allhttps://www.miriamswisdom.com/p/where-is-god-a-video-poem-for-allWed, 28 May 2025 12:09:27 GMTIn 1997, I turned 25, had a religious conversion experience through a series of dreams, and had my first bout of depression. It was a big year, and 1998 was as well. The image behind this poem is that of a window made of frosted glass. You can see light and shadow through the pane, but you can’t make out much more than that. This, I thought, is about as clearly as we can see God.

In 2025, I’ve doubled 25 years, and then some. I have a diagnosis of Type II bipolar disorder, and I’ve had several more periods of depression and dysphoria. I’ve spent years devoted to Christianity, in the Episcopal Church, and I’ve spent years unable to walk with the Church. In the last year, I’ve actually begun a formal conversion to Judaism. As a mystic, I’ve had some very brief experiences where for the barest instant I could apprehend God clearly. But more than 99% of the time, it was the frosted glass.

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Before I show you the text of the poem, I want to fill you in on an artistic decision I made when preparing this poem for the substack. When I wrote this in 1997, my sense of God was very male. I hadn’t really encountered the divine feminine, so my experience of God was The Remote King Up In The Sky. As a result, I used masculine pronouns. We know that God is not a physical, biological man any more than God is any other sort of physical, biological human, and these days I use a very different approach to name and refer to God. I didn’t see a good way to change the masculine pronouns without wrecking the rhythm and musical line of the poem, so I decided to leave them in place. We can call them yet one more misapprehension I had of God. :)

Where is God?

an original poem by Heather L. Rollins, written September 12, 1997

Where is God?
Through frosted glass
I cannot see
the glory of his face
but only hints
of blurry shadows
hidden from
my seeking eyes.

Where is God?
For though I press
my fingers to
the whitened pane,
I can not feel
his touch meet mine;
I do not sense
his presence near me.

Where is God?
I listen closely
with my ear
held to the door.
His voice eludes me;
muffled whispers
murmur at me,
nothing more.

Where is God?
I cannot smell
nor taste his presence,
do not know if he is near me.
Does he love me?
Are there angels,
saints who intercede?

Where is God?
I want to see him,
touch him, hear
his holy voice
within my soul.
I need him
to make me complete,
to make me feel alive.

Where is God?
I do not understand
why he must
hide from me.
Where is God?
Please give me peace
and love and hope
and comforting.

Thanks for reading Facts and Faith, Trust and Truth! This post is public so feel free to share it.

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]]><![CDATA[Hurt feelings report]]>https://www.miriamswisdom.com/p/hurt-feelings-reporthttps://www.miriamswisdom.com/p/hurt-feelings-reportWed, 23 Apr 2025 12:21:27 GMTDo you ever obsess over small things? Like that guy you pushed past so that you could be ahead of him in the supermarket line? Or the colleague who sniped at you at a meeting in front of everyone? Do you lie in the dark and think about the high school boyfriend you were unkind to?

No? Maybe it’s just me. But if you recognize yourself in this at all, then you might find yourself in Hurt Feelings Report, which is about exactly that sort of rumination. It’s fun to exaggerate the ruminating, to dwell in it and find the ridiculousness living there… and to find the tiny miracle that lives at the heart of all things.

I told you “That won’t hurt my feelings,” and I probably even believed it just then,
but this was untrue, and I thought you should know it.
My feelings will be hurt, and I’ll cherish this pain.
I will lie awake at night rolling this feeling through my thoughts,
holding it close to my chest and loving it obsessively.
I will poke at every wound and treasure the sweet ache.
I’ll pick at the scabs until the blood runs.
I will find every bruise and admire the colors:
Who knew that hurt feelings could look so amazing?
It may not be rational to store up and save up hurt feelings like this,
but I’ve never claimed to be rational, my friend.
Every bump, bruise, and fracture is proof I’m alive,
telling my story, a map of the skin of my heart.
When I told you it won’t hurt my feelings,
instead you should know that I’ll ponder and cherish the hurt in my heart
and never let it go
and never let you go.

The title comes from my boss, who likes to pretend that he’s a complete grump, though sometimes you can catch a glimpse at the marshmallow center hidden deep in his core. When he has to make a decision that he expects to be unpopular, he might say, “Well, today we have to do this thing. You can all file hurt feelings reports tomorrow.” As I wrote this poem in February 2023, I knew that its title would have to come from this line, and so Hurt Feelings Report became a poem.

Have you ever sought out the tiny miracle that lives at the heart of something painful, or even something silly? What was that discovery like? Was love living there? It’s my theory that the tiny miracle that lives at the heart of all things is love.

]]><![CDATA[Listen!]]>https://www.miriamswisdom.com/p/listen-e7fhttps://www.miriamswisdom.com/p/listen-e7fWed, 09 Apr 2025 15:37:44 GMTIt’s been many years that the Shema prayer, which Jewish people say every day, started to call to my heart. It begins with “Listen!” and then continues with the commandment to love each other. It gives instructions for reminding ourselves of our obligation to love. This poem pushed its way into life a few weeks ago, a paraphrase of the Shema and a reminder of the most sacred, central obligation of the Abrahamic faiths: love.

Listen!

by Heather L. Rollins, February 2, 2025

Listen!
Listen up. This is your God talking.
Listen to me.
I am the Source of all.
I breathe life into you every day
when I wake you from your sleep.
I love you.

Listen!
It’s about love.
I love you.
I hope you love me.
I will never force you.
It’s not love unless it’s a choice made in freedom,
and it is your choice.
Love is your choice.

Listen! 
If you choose love,
then put your whole self into it.
Love is demanding,
and it asks everything you have
and everything that you are.
And the more love you pour out,
the more love I give you:
a flood of love too large to be contained,
abundant, extravagant, powerful.
Everything is about love.

Listen!
I know you can forget love
with the bustle of your life.
You must remind yourself:
	I am the God you chose,
	and I love you,
and I will give you all you need.
Remind yourself in the morning and in the evening: it’s about love;
tell your children and tell each other: it’s about love.
Remind yourself at home,
and remind yourself wherever you go: it’s all about love.
Put reminders in front of your eyes,
even write them on your hands: love, love, love.
Remind yourself about love when you arrive home,
and take love with you when you go out.

Listen!
It’s about love.
I need you to love each other.
I know you are forgetful,
and you’re stubborn, even stiff-necked.
The answer is always love.
	Hungry? Love them. Feed them.
	Naked? Love them. Clothe them.
	Grieving? Love them. Console them.
	Ailing? Love them. Heal them.
	Fallen? Love them. Uplift them.
	Lonely? Love them. Be with them.
	Imprisoned? Love them. Visit them. Free them.
	Ignored? Love them. See them.
	Injustice? Love them. Speak out.
	Oppression? Love them. Fight it.
Love them. Love them. Love them.
Every day, wherever you are,
the answer is always love.

Listen!
It’s about love.
It was always about love.
It will always be about love.
The answer is always love.
Listen!

]]><![CDATA[Love Lesson]]>https://www.miriamswisdom.com/p/love-lessonhttps://www.miriamswisdom.com/p/love-lessonWed, 26 Mar 2025 15:32:58 GMTThe theme of this poem is hardly new, the idea we learn that love isn’t given unconditionally but must be earned through performance, through accomplishment. It isn’t the lesson our parents wanted us to learn, and it’s certainly not the lesson the Holy One—if you believe in a Holy One—wants us to learn. But here we are.

Even on the far side of the hill, over 50, I find this nonsense still chasing me. If I haven’t been A Perfect Young Lady, modest and demure even while achieving the highest performance and also smiling while I do it—if I haven’t made you feel warm and welcome and wanted and happy—if I haven’t succeeded in earning your esteem—then I have failed. It sounds ridiculous that way, doesn’t it? But feelings are not rational, so here we are.

Maybe after you’ve listened to this poem, you might call someone or text them and tell them you love them even when they make mistakes and don’t wash their hair and begrudge the effort. Because truly, the well of love is bottomless.

Love Lesson
by Heather L. Rollins, January 8, 2025

I learned 
	early that 
	the path 
	to love 
	is performance.

The coin 
	to buy love 
	is doing 
	a good job
	and smiling 
	while you do it
	And doing it
	better
	than I 
	ever
	did it before

I was 
	a greedy 
	wee thing
I wanted 
	all 
	the love 
	I could get

Everyone I met,
	they had to 
	love me
	like me
	feel happy
	to see me
	stay with me
	take care
	of me


I say this
	as if it
	weren’t 
	still true
	even though
	the well of love
	is bottomless.
]]><![CDATA[Stars]]>https://www.miriamswisdom.com/p/starshttps://www.miriamswisdom.com/p/starsWed, 19 Mar 2025 22:28:48 GMTThis poem has a very special place in my heart. I wrote it when my children were very young, and they loved for me to read it for them, knowing it was a gift from my heart to theirs. I hope there’s a young person you love—a child, a sibling’s child, a grandchild—for whom you can read it. Give them a love letter straight from your own heart.

Every day
when the sun goes down,
the moon and stars
light up the night.

Behind every star
an angel is watching,
through a window
made of light.

All day long
the angels see us,
when we’re good
and when we’re bad.

Loving kind people
make angels smile,
but naughty deeds
make angels sad.

When Daddy says
it’s time for bed
and Mommy sings
a lullaby,

The angels watch you
in your bed
from twinkling stars
up in the sky.

So when you look up
at the sky
and wonder what
those sparkles are,

Remember that
an angel peeks
through each and every
little star.
]]><![CDATA[Hidden]]>https://www.miriamswisdom.com/p/hiddenhttps://www.miriamswisdom.com/p/hiddenThu, 13 Mar 2025 19:33:40 GMTOne of the themes in last week’s Torah portion—the only one from the opening of the book of Exodus until the end of the Torah—was hiddenness. This is also a big theme in early springtime, when all the life that has been hidden beneath the snow and soil or beneath the bark of trees is uncovered and breaks through. Even though we may not be aware of it, life is happening even when it is hidden. And so you might also say that God is happening, even when God is hidden.

This poem embraces the dark, hidden, smelly things that are all part of Creation. God may be in the majestic mountains, the soaring eagles, and the graceful antelope. God is also in the microbes, the buzzards, the maggots, and the mushrooms. So here’s to the God who breathes life into dying things, every single day.

A response to parashah Tetzaveh

O god of deep and hidden things
O god of mushrooms, moss, and ferns
O god who breathes with winter's sighs
Show us how to find you.

O god of still and silent things
O god of seeps and soaks and stones
O god whose bones are mountains, trees
Teach us how to hear you.

O god of dark and hidden things
O god of compost, mold, and rot
O god who brings dead things to life
	Sing to us and wake us.

O god of peat and god of worms
O god of smelly, funky things
O god whose song is love unknown
	Take our hand and guide us.
]]><![CDATA[Psalm: It's a new day]]>https://www.miriamswisdom.com/p/psalm-its-a-new-dayhttps://www.miriamswisdom.com/p/psalm-its-a-new-dayWed, 05 Mar 2025 16:31:02 GMTAll through morning prayer the other day, this poem kept ringing my doorbell, demanding insistently that I commit it to paper. 

It’s a new day, Adonai, and I sing praises to you.
It’s a new day, Holy One, and the whole earth praises you.

The grass damp with dew 		        sings your praises
The fuzzy caterpillar creeping		sings your praises
The bloom of the dawn sky		sings your praises

The crocuses welcoming spring	sing your praises
The leaf-buds on the mighty oak	sing your praises
The mourning dove with her coo	sings your praises

The cool air on my skin		        sings your praises
The riotous forsythia		        	sings your praises
The children running at play		sing your praises

Singing your praises,			the white fluffy cloud
Singing your praises,			the birthing crescent moon
Singing your praises,			every green holly leaf

Singing your praises,			the cars on the freeway
Singing your praises,			the stars in the night
Singing your praises,			the pollens and bumblebees

Singing your praises,			the brilliant blue sky
Singing your praises,			the electrons spinning
Singing your praises,			every beating, loving heart

It’s a new day, Hashem, and we sing praises to you.
It’s a brilliant new day, and every atom in the cosmos praises you.

Thank you for listening and reading. I’d love to know how this poem strikes you. Did it make your beating, loving heart sing praises? Let me know in the comments. Thanks!

]]><![CDATA[I am not my loss]]>https://www.miriamswisdom.com/p/i-am-not-my-losshttps://www.miriamswisdom.com/p/i-am-not-my-lossSat, 01 Mar 2025 13:32:37 GMTThis poem showed up and demanded to be written, in the way that poems do. It’s a song of strength and dignity. You get to choose who you want to be… and you get to change when you want to. So be the lightning, the sunrise, the meadow - be wonderfully, marvelously YOU!

I am not my loss.
I am more than what was taken from me.
I am more than an orphan,
	more than a widow,
	more than a mother grieving her children.

I am not my loss.
I am more than the worst that’s been done to me.
I am more than a victim,
	more than a target,
	more than a wounded one pleading for justice.

I am not my loss.
I am made in the image and likeness of God.
I am more than your reflection,
	more than your losses.
I define who and what I am.

I am the voice of the hurricane’s wind
I am the seedling pushing up through the soil
I am the scent of a fire in the forest
I am the first ripe tomato of summer
I am the rainbow, the sunset, the sea.

I am not my loss.
I am more than you can imagine.
I am what I choose to be.
]]><![CDATA[I am little]]>https://www.miriamswisdom.com/p/i-am-littlehttps://www.miriamswisdom.com/p/i-am-littleSat, 22 Feb 2025 14:42:43 GMTYou may have come here from my reflection on a Torah reading that I really wrestled with. Or you may not. Either way, it’s fine. Because we are little, and God is big, and that is good news indeed.

In the foreground, a meadow with white and yellow blossoms. In the middle, the summit of a jagged mountain peak. In the background, the sun is rising with some beautiful clouds.
Mountain, Nature, Flowers, Sky, photographer uncredited

I am little, and God is big.

I go to the mountains because they are big.
It’s in the mountains where …

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]]><![CDATA[A Mother's Love: A Triptych Poem]]>https://www.miriamswisdom.com/p/a-mothers-love-a-triptych-poemhttps://www.miriamswisdom.com/p/a-mothers-love-a-triptych-poemWed, 19 Feb 2025 13:32:43 GMT Read more

]]><![CDATA[Blessing: A triptych poem]]>https://www.miriamswisdom.com/p/blessing-a-triptych-poemhttps://www.miriamswisdom.com/p/blessing-a-triptych-poemSat, 21 Dec 2024 00:20:47 GMT Read more

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