I have just read and posted to my facebook page Wendy Murphy's "Open Letter to Woody Allen." Rather than pronounce her outrage at him, she has asked him to say the most powerful words of his career: "I'm sorry." This is exactly the kind of work needed to help stop the cycle of abuse against women.

Once perpetrators can realize what incest/sexual abuse does to the victim, once they truly, truly understand, at least those not psychotic and delusional may desist. I hope so.

Please do read her letter if this topic is one that touches you: http://wendymurphylaw.com/author/wendy.

This morning I renewed an affirmation as I stood on my porch, facing the sun and the birds at the bird feeder. Raising my arms over my head, I spoke aloud the words: "I am the daughter of the universe and the Earth Mother. I am divine. I am the divine daughter of the universe and the Earth Mother."

As I spoke these words this morning, I felt how true they are. We all come from Source, from the spirit of the universe. We cannot help but be divine, but it is something we need to continually remind ourselves of.

When I say these words, I remember I am taken care of and I am perfect just as I am. And I recall that the best that I do comes from my own divinity. Part of that is holding to my authentic self as much as I can, recognizing over and over that particular way that Source or the Divine is a part of me, how my spirit chose to manifest Source within me.

This means to claim my own unique power and to embrace my holiness, my specialness. It means to allow myself to speak my truth. In speaking my truth, I model the divinity that moves through me, that makes me who I am, unlike any other person on earth. In allowing ourselves to speak from who we are, we give others permission to know their own truth and divinity for themselves.

Within this I can still succumb for hours or days to the need to curl up into a tiny ball, like a young child, afraid and needing to comfort myself. There are times that being human requires this kind of self-care, times we simply need to allow this level of our humanity, for we are born both human and divine.

These are the thoughts that ran through my head this morning before getting to work on those very human things that allow the practicality of living.

Went for the tiniest walk this morning to the river. The flooding from last week's "spring" had sent great blocks of ice way up onto the shore. Crisscrossed over each other, stacked like a child's building blocks, it felt like walking on teeter/totters the whole way to the water's edge.

This morning much of the river was already frozen. A floating vapor or steam rolled upstream and towards me as the sun rose higher and mixed with the cold, cold air.

Sitting there with my silk balaclava covering most of my face and the rest of me bundled up to match – even with the 1 degree temperature – I found myself finally able to release myself from the winter prison I have felt myself in.

I was able to let myself recognize the beauty all around me. And, slowly, slowly, after talking to guide after guide and the river herself, I could remember I am not alone.

Yesterday I watched this amazing video by a woman who has written a book about being an introvert: http://on.ted.com/Cain

It was so amazing to watch an introvert speaking to hundreds and hundreds of people. Towards the end of her talk, she spoke about how difficult it is for her to be in "out" in such an extreme way.

I am also an introvert, but, because of being an incest survivor, I have been mostly a recluse for most of my life, except for work. Anytime I was around another human being, I felt the possibility – no! probability – that I would be hurt.

Now, having mostly healed after all these years of help from an incredible therapist and from time spent writing, making art, and in nature, I am called to come out of hiding, to risk being with others.

Watching this woman was like watching myself as I go out into the world to speak from the book I have written. I need to prepare for days, and it takes me days to recuperate afterwords. But I am glad I am doing this. Glad to make contact with others who may benefit from the journey of my own healing.

I have come a long, long way from how I felt when I wrote the first poem in the book:

My heart moves
to the sound
of tears not fallen,
waiting for the emptiness
to find its river out.
The hollow drum
of my insides
echoes
with the warning
of a hurt so deep,
I am lost.
Effigies of horror
burned,
I tear at my skin
so the blood runs,
so I may feel this pain
and let the weeping begin.
At least then
I will know myself
alive.