The Maiden Voyage

The Maiden Voyage

Hi friends, It’s been a minute. I’ve been a little off my game, and honestly, there was a stretch where I wasn’t even on the field. In early April, someone I love found themselves in a situation that sent me on a crazy quest through a system I had no map for, no mentors for, and only a sliver of faith that I would find my way through. If this were the Hero’s Journey, this chapter would be the Supreme Ordeal, that moment in the story where things look so bleak that you would put your money on the hero not making it. Day after day, I felt like I was wrestling with a sticky Rubik’s Cube, trying to find the one shift, the one turn, the one move that would help solve the problem. I know that’s vague, but it isn’t entirely my story to tell, so bear with me. What I can tell you is that there were tears, fears, and prayers. There were moments when my faith felt thin. There were days when the weight of it all threatened to pull me into the fetal position on the bathroom floor. And yet, in the darkest moments, I discovered something beautiful. I had a community that carried me. Friends who checked in. People who prayed. People who showed up. People who reminded me that I wasn’t alone when I couldn’t always remember it for myself. And as insane as it might sound, I was still creating, still writing, still playing the piano and singing. The combination of all of that gave me a bit of solid ground. I know I am not the only one struggling these days. Sometimes it feels like the hits just keep coming. Life can feel relentless. So thank you for sticking with me during what turned into an unexpected Substack sabbatical. The issue that took me out was, strangely, suddenly, and miraculously resolved, and someday I may even write a book about it. The ordeal happened while life was in full session: a trip to New York, Ireland with Billie, back to Chicago to produce a couple of shows, and now, after a season that felt like it contained three years’ worth of living, I am finally back home on Madeline Island. Keeping things simple. Finding my footing again. Playing piano, feeding hummingbirds, taking long solo walks with my weighted vest, working in the community garden, and singing. I’ll be performing a handful of gigs this summer. It’s funny that the idea of singing a solo show of my original music would have once seemed impossible, too scary to imagine. But I guess after you face some real lions, the things that once seemed frightening somehow become the easy stuff. I welcome it. One other celebration, on June 8th, I celebrated 10 years of sobriety. This is my second ten; here’s to seeing what is beyond this milestone one day at a time. I am extremely grateful to live between the two big blue books of AA and ACIM. I don’t even want to imagine what a hot mess I would be without them. Tomorrow at SpeakEasy, we continue The Maiden Voyage as we venture into the realm of the Muse. We’ll explore creativity, courage, possibility, and what it means to run toward the roar rather than away from it. Yep, I will be speaking from experience. But this is all universal and relatable because we are all brought to our knees. We will all be asked to face fears. There is a saying: Run toward the roar. It sounds like crazy advice, but sometimes there is no other choice. The Muse is not born when life is easy. She arrives when life knocks you flat on your back and leaves you wondering how you’re going to make it through another day. She looks down at you and says, “Look at you. You’re still breathing. Cool. Let’s go create something.” And if you are wise, you will follow her. As long as you have breath, you can create something beautiful. You might think there is another choice. Trust me, there isn’t. At least not one worthy of your last breath. When life roars, it could be your cue to just roar back. Or if you can’t muster a roar, try singing. Hope to see you tomorrow for the full conversation. Love, Maur Love, Maur Substack is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber. SpeakEasy Spiritual Community honors all paths and is anchored in the teachings of A Course in Miracles and the Divine Feminine. We meet virtually on Sunday at 10:30 am CT and feature a community conversation that invites us to speak easily about spiritual principles and practice. Please don’t leave your brains, beliefs, or background at the door. We don’t have all the answers, but we love the questions. Join us live at SpeakEasy Spiritual Community to add your voice to the conversation. Love, Maur Substack is a reader-supported publication. Subscribe and gain access to our weekly Live Virtual Story Salon for writing accountability and support. If you have thoughts to share, I would love to hear from you. This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit maureenmuldoon.substack.com/subscribe [https://maureenmuldoon.substack.com/subscribe?utm_medium=podcast&utm_campaign=CTA_2]

HOME

I’m getting ready to wander from the known structures of time and responsibility, going off grid for a few days in the unscheduled flow of wanderlust. I am going to Ireland. Headed there for my daughter Billie’s Maiden Voyage to the Motherland, this time I go with the passport of a native, the visa of one who has returned, clinging tight to the souvenir I have acquired from the adventure of chasing dual citizenship. This tiny booklet is a symbol that I have untangled the knots and restored the umbilical cord to my ancestors. I return with the shifty, shy gaze of a stepchild, or a long-lost relative, waving a notification from 23andMe, “I belong to you, and I’m hoping someone will retrieve me from the bus stop.” But of course, it’s not all that desperate and dire; we’ve rented a car, so we should be fine. It’s interesting to go away to come home. And stranger still to be homesick for a place you’ve never lived. Am I programmed for melancholy, or is this an echo of generational healing? I think of Ireland as my spiritual home; it holds a sense of sacred magic, like entering an old church. I find a calm settling, both mysterious and yet certain, not easily identifiable, and yet I know it by heart. And my body agrees, responding in a way that feels like stepping into the ocean, “Oh yes, hello, it’s you again.” And then there comes a baptism, a swell of ancient rites, ritual, and reverence, and suddenly I am home. Of course, this shift does not need to be sought through pilgrimage; it can be found in a cup of tea, a chance encounter, a labyrinth, or a lover. Not so much something we go to, but rather an awakening, an awareness of what we come from. This is not some stumbling into Grace, not a happy accident; we encounter awareness because we have made the space to remember that we are precious, sacred beings in need of rest, respite, and soul food. This is the truth that gets silenced by the screaming world. And so my invite, my friend, is to find your way home. We were not built for the firehouse of stimuli. We are designed to go at the pace of peace, to listen to the rain, take the slow path, shoot the breeze, and surrender to the plan of fate and favor that is not our own. It can sound passive, but it is not. In the surrender, there is bristle and brilliance. Fresh learning invites us to the awe and reverence that this life deserves. This moment is so palpable, so all-encompassing, so restorative, like being held safe in the mother’s lap or the lover’s arms. Your breath catches and expands, Your voice softens. Your eyes begin to see again. Clarity comes, striving goes, and a trust in an intelligence that provides all and asks nothing begins to seem strangely trustworthy. And you are home I have witnessed this type of arrival happen day after day in our community, MiraclesLIVE365, [https://speakeasy.breezechms.com/form/f167855723891776]and no matter how many times I see it, it never gets old. It’s a constant loop of sunrises, each one more breathtaking than the last. Friends come carrying the weight of grief or grievance, struggling with an unseen splinter in their paws. And then we meet, tucking our chins, bowing our heads, and begin again to surrender the meaning and arrive at the moment. It’s not always a sweet melting; sometimes it’s a street fight, to surrender to heal to forgive to return home. But we get there. We cross the threshold, sometimes with just a breath, that takes us in, and the baggage, the burden, seems to be transformed, translated into something holy, or forgotten. It’s a miracle. And like raindrops illuminate the spiderweb, we see the connection between us. The commonalities that help us to drop the facade and just be, another sacred drop on the web of life. The soul returns, remembers, and responds to the radiant rhythm of breath and being. The body relaxes, and in the absence of proving and striving, we come home, again and again, to the journey without distance from the head to the heart. What matters is not your place or position; what matters is your presence and your willingness to be present in the ever-flowing, shifting stream of life. I hope you find your way there, I hope you find you are here, I hope we all find our way home. Love, Maur EVENTS Check out the talk in the header, and if you want more, click the link below to get the Zoom link and a reminder text. At SpeakEasy, easy is our last name. I am thrilled about this Mother’s Day series and the awesome line-up of speakers! If you are looking to awaken your Voice, Value, and Visibility, this is for you. SpeakEasy Spiritual Community honors all paths and is anchored in the teachings of A Course in Miracles and the Divine Feminine. We meet virtually on Sunday at 10:30 am CT and feature a community conversation that invites us to speak easily about spiritual principles and practice. Please don’t leave your brains, beliefs, or background at the door. We don’t have all the answers, but we love the questions. Join us live at SpeakEasy Spiritual Community to add your voice to the conversation. Love, Maur Substack is a reader-supported publication. Subscribe and gain access to our weekly Live Virtual Story Salon for writing accountability and support. If you have thoughts to share, I would love to hear from you. This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit maureenmuldoon.substack.com/subscribe [https://maureenmuldoon.substack.com/subscribe?utm_medium=podcast&utm_campaign=CTA_2]

Underneath It All

Underneath It All The Tower or the Altar: Build it up or lay it down. A reflection on the Tower of Babel, the Binding of Isaac, and the shift from seeking to surrender. What looks separate… isn’t. In meditation, a forest revealed something simple and profound:trees may appear to stand alone, but beneath the surface they are connected—root to root, life to life, sustained by an unseen network. this is us. We move through the world as if we are separate—defining, comparing, protecting what is “mine.” But underneath it all, we are already joined. What we call separation is learned, practiced, reinforced. In A Course in Miracles, this forgetting takes the form of special relationships—where we exclude, judge, and attempt to control. In contrast, holy relationships remind us that nothing real can be threatened, and no one is outside of love. The story of the Tower of Babel is not just ancient—it is alive in us now. Every time we decide who belongs and who does not, every time we confuse righteousness with judgment, we add another brick to the tower. We build identities that separate us, even as we claim to be seeking God. But there is another way. In the story of the Binding of Isaac, we are invited into something quieter and more courageous: surrender. Not sacrifice, but trust. The willingness to release what we think we must hold onto in order to be okay. Because what we are afraid to lose… has already become an idol. And yet, when placed in God’s hands, nothing real is taken—only the fear dissolves. This is the movement from tower to altar.From building to releasing.From fear to trust. And as that shift happens, something else begins to fall away:the idea of “other.” We no longer need to defend who we are, or exclude who someone else is. Difference is no longer a threat—it becomes an invitation to expand love beyond our comfort zone. Lesson 263 offers a gentle correction: “My holy vision sees all things as pure.” Not because the world has changed, but because we are willing to see differently. So the question becomes:What are we building?And what are we willing to lay down? Because the way home is not something we construct—it is something we remember. Underneath it all…we are already one. Key Takeaways: Separation is learned, not real Striving builds walls; surrender reveals connection What we fear losing often becomes an idol Love expands when we release the idea of “other” This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit maureenmuldoon.substack.com/subscribe [https://maureenmuldoon.substack.com/subscribe?utm_medium=podcast&utm_campaign=CTA_2]

Fluent in Darkness

Up on Madeline Island, darker days have settled in. The town has grown quiet, the water cold. Summer folks have flown off with the geese to sunnier shores, leaving the rest of us to navigate the dark. I was once among them. But this time, this year, I wait and witness as the light bows out early. In the remote solitude of Island life, traffic lights are replaced with stop signs, pulsing neons give way to the soft glow of lanterns, and darkness arrives honestly. It takes hold of the cabin, cuddling it in a black velvet-gloved embrace, until I can’t see my own hand an inch from my face, which is mesmerizing and feels less like absence and more like arrival. I am here. Here, where blaring search lights and sirens are replaced with subtle starlight and silence. I watch in wonder, realizing that I can be comfortable in the dark, no longer afraid but oddly intrigued, and apparently prepared for it. Earlier this year, I found myself reading book after book, such as Learning to Walk in the Dark by Barbara Brown Taylor and Waking Up to the Dark by Clark Strand. I had no idea why I was gobbling up these volumes designed to romance the dark. But I know that many of these books didn’t just ask us to make peace with the dark, but to enter it —walk in it, alone. As I thumbed through the pages, I had no idea at the time that they were welcoming me into an initiation that I would have never chosen for myself. In a dark time, the eye begins to see.-Theodore Roethke I don’t think I need to confess my bias toward brilliance and brightness. I’ve been taught to fear the darkness. I have romanced, regaled, and relished the light. Fire it up, friends, court your brilliance, chase off the shadows, and shine, shine, shine, sis-star! It seems that this overamplification of light’s value has blinded me to my own dualistic allegiances. And so it’s time that I forgive my fears and make peace with the full spectrum of humanity. To welcome darkness not as void, but as a fertile field of possibilities. A classroom, a teacher, and an opportunity to own and honor all aspects of myself, the waxing and waning. Love, Maur Substack is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber. In the cold, dark, stillness of these northern nights, I am discovering that I need darkness as much as I need dawn. My soul has been craving this. And as a sunny optimist, a seven on the enneagram, as a card-carrying rose-colored glasses, self-identified “silver lining factory,” I am honestly unerved by the depth of darkness and the rich love affair I have forsaken for sunnier sermons and high-vibe brilliance. I guess what I am saying is, I am ready to dance in the dark. “Someone I loved once gave me a box full of darkness. It took me years to understand that this, too, was a gift.” -Mary Oliver: My sunrise spirituality and breezy barefoot blessings have been effectively honored and celebrated. But now the darkness calls, and it will not be denied. It whispers of richness: of warm mugs of spiced dark chocolate, red velvet and incense, warm, worn leather… candlelight. And even now, as I write, I see how I am attempting to romance the darkness, to wrap and rebrand the bare bones of winter —the chill of shadows — as some glorious cashmere-grey mist settling over the woods. It just may be, but I hope you can spot the Ever Ready Bunny of Sunshine, so determined to avoid the darkness. Although these textures are sensual, and tangibly and decadent, do not be distracted, dear reader. Beneath the warmth of velvet, the richness of candlelight, they point to something deeper: the winter of the soul, the cold, dark, damp cave of hibernation, the solitude, the silence. And I, a people person through and through, find myself trying to convince myself that I am not afraid of the dark. I mean, I am not… I am really not. But then again, I am also not very fluent in it. And so I watch as grey skies turn black and deliver a generous sprinkling of stars who brilliantly dance and delight this audience of one, and I make myself stand in the darkness. And I find that it’s not a hiding place, but is a womb. It is not just the absence of light, but a beautiful mystery. Some things can only be seen in the dark. And so my task is to venture into the shorter days and solitude, not because the dark is comfortable, but because it offers me a sense of the sacred that I could not have secured for myself on sunny shores. And although I still favor them, I am entertaining the sacred in me that has always known how to find its way through the dark. The darker the night, the more brilliant the light appears. “I wish I could show you when you are lonely or in darkness the astonishing light of your own being.” -Hafiz I hope to find that, share it with you, and invite you into your own sacred darkness. So join me tomorrow at SpeakEasy Spiritual Community as we contemplate the full spectrum of darkness and light — the laser, the lantern, and the sun — and explore how we might navigate the continual waxing and waning of illumination within and around us. “Perhaps the light can only be found by those who have learned to love the dark.” — Barbara Brown Taylor May our love grow bolder in the darker days and darker times; may our love grow so bold that it outshines the sun. LOVE, Maur PS: Enjoy dessert. EVENTS SpeakEasy Spiritual Community honors all paths and is anchored in the teachings of A Course in Miracles and the Divine Feminine. We meet virtually on Sunday at 10:30 am CT and feature a community conversation that invites us to speak easily about spiritual principles and practice. Please don’t leave your brains, beliefs, or background at the door. We don’t have all the answers, but we love the questions. DESSERT A little spoof on daylight savings. I mean saving. It’s not plural! Join our virtual weekly Story Salon and get accountability and support on your writing. Love, Maur Substack is a reader-supported publication. This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit maureenmuldoon.substack.com/subscribe [https://maureenmuldoon.substack.com/subscribe?utm_medium=podcast&utm_campaign=CTA_2]

Dancing with Your Muse

This week in The Artist’s Way at SpeakEasy, we’re invited to connect with our Muse and create a piece of artwork that celebrates the Muse. The invitation makes my heart flutter. I’ve been digging through the remnants of my past as we prepare for our move to Madeline Island. Closing up a home that has held my family and me for the past fifteen years is no small thing. I’m swimming through an ocean of emotions, gratefully anchored each day by what always seems like the perfect lessons from A Course in Miracles during this time. Lesson 288, Let me forget my brother’s past today. Lesson 289, The past is over. It can touch me not. Lesson 290 My present happiness is all I see. Oh, if this could be true, how gentle my path would be. But with every photo I pack, with every item and piece of artwork, I’m pulled into the stories of my past. This has been a home of stories and self-expression, where I wrote and published three books, created a one-person play, started a church, and launched a program that teaches and coaches people from around the world to embody the spiritual principles of A Course in Miracles. This is the home that birthed a dozen retreats, where I led women to sacred spaces. It’s the home that helped host The Maiden Voyage, a program guiding women on their internal journey of self-realization. So much has been stirred up and stored within the walls of this home, from the depths of addiction to the breathtaking betrayals, to the serenading of singers, sisters, and brothers, and the echoes of a trillion miracles upon miracles upon miracles. If you know, you know. This house has generously held it all, with barely a creak or a word of condemnation. This has been the home of the Muse. Finding the Muse is a bit like finding “a God of your own understanding,” but softer, more playful. Maybe she arrives as a fiery angel with paint on her wings, or a gentle grandmother tending a fire and humming you courage. Maybe she’s the boldest, brightest version of you, the part that sings out loud and speaks the truth without edit or apology. Maybe she’s the fearless, shameless, blameless, unedited, sexy, sacred siren who calls you to the sacred truth and to play, and shows you that these things are not mutually exclusive. However she appears, remember this: she is fun. She is frivolous. And she absolutely has your back. So, get to know her. This week, Jerome Imhoff, our fearless leader in The Artist’s Way group, invites us to take this connection a step further and create a piece of art inspired by your Muse. Paint her, sculpt her, collage her, write her a letter, use Canva or canvas, as I did in the image above. Let yourself have fun. How novel. And bring her essence into form. As Course students and teachers, we know that God is the Creator, and we are created in Its likeness. Child of God, you were created to create the good, the beautiful and the holy. - A Course in Miracles In The Maiden Voyage, A Spiritual Odyssey Through the Archetypes of the Feminine Soul, we journey through the archetypes as a creative and spiritual awakening, celebrating the Maiden, Muse, Mogul, Mother, Minister, Mystic, Monarch. Side Note: For those interested, The Maiden Voyage officially launches this January with a virtual and in-person monthly gathering for coaching, creativity, and soul care, culminating in an in-person celebration on July 22nd. Mark your calendars! More info. to follow. As for me, I have been so devoted to the Muse that I have often been mistaken for one. This has never been my goal. I am not a genie in a bottle, and I try not to be a shadow artist, a term coined by Julia Cameron, author of The Artist’s Way. No, dear reader, I am not interested in being the choreographer of your best moves; I am just a dancer, devoted to being led by my Divine, my own internal Muse, this lifelong companion who has swept me into adventures and sweetly seduced from me products, programs, and prayers beyond my own authorship. This internal guide makes it easy for me to step from the knowing and lean into the mystery, the trusted compass that gives me the gumption to pull the thread on all the tapestries I have woven, so that I can begin again, in a new chapter, in a new home, in a new way that will surely be an even more blessed and beautiful version of all the stories I once held so dear. Because God never steps backward. And so it is into the Mystery we go, when we go with the Muse, the miracle worker. She only asks us to give up two things: forget the past and forget the future. Stay here, in this present moment of conception, so that you can be guided and beguiled by her magnificent brilliance and beauty. Come, empty yourself, and surrender to inspiration, the Spirit that dwells within. Now is the time, dear reader, to reacquaint yourself with your own innate power. Now is the time to entertain your Muse. She does not come to the fearful or the controlling. She lives in the present and arrives to the one who celebrates the light on leaves, the wind in branches, and dreams in the desert, where all seems lost, and yet, and yet, look about you, look up, be willing, and you will not be able to ignore the single star that still shines for you. And when you lay your thirsty eyes upon this light, let it seduce from you a wish, a foolish, frivolous, childlike wish. Then wait, and watch with willingness. If I know anything about the Muse, and I do, I know that she comes to those who smile at the fire, for they know about the phoenix. The ones who gather bones from the graveyard and build themselves a throne. The ones willing to hear the rhythm of a new song, and the courageous ones who decide to sing along, even if they don’t yet know all the words. Whether you’re walking this path with our Artist’s Way group or simply following along from afar, I invite you to pause this week. Consider your Muse and create something, anything, that honors your God-given creative nature. The Muse is always waiting, ready to play, to guide, to remind you that art is sacred, joyful, and human. One final note: my place of home is shifting, but my love remains the same. I am always easy to connect with via the aforementioned Creative Virtual classes and conversations. The Muse in me is percolating with exciting ways to connect and collaborate in the future, and I can’t wait to share it all with you. And remember, if you want to meet up in person every week, swap stories, and work on your writing, subscribe to the Substack, and you’ll receive the Zoom information. It’s a great place to dance with the Muse. Thank you to all who have come to this home, and to those who took up residence here. We have had the privilege of hosting many friends in transition. Thank you to all who brought your music and musings to our table over the years, who planted our gardens, and broke bread with us. As I close up this home, this chapter, I look forward to connecting with you wherever and whenever that may happen. Because home is not a location. I think my kids sang it best: Home is wherever I am with you. You can find their wonderful rendition of the song in the dessert section. In the meantime… Love,Maur Love, Maur And now, enjoy DESSERT! I would love to hear from you! And if you'd like to connect, pitch a story for Voice Box, have me on your podcast, just have a chat, reach out here. For free resources and community connections, visit our calendar of events, click on any item of interest, and it will direct you to a registration form. This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit maureenmuldoon.substack.com/subscribe [https://maureenmuldoon.substack.com/subscribe?utm_medium=podcast&utm_campaign=CTA_2]