Robin Rivers's Blog

Called by the Cailleach

The Cailleach came to me in a dream the other night. This incredible hag���the first goddess, she who grants sovereignty, the ancients, the land���and I stood on a beach in a place that seemed at the edge of everything. Waves a thousand feet high rolled in like easy folds of velvet and washed the world...

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Little Love Note #2

Winter as a solitary season really is my vibe. Simply packing up and locking myself away from the world sounds ideal just about every November. Vancouver rains prove insufferable. My office turns me into an ice cube. The world seems much cozier under a warm blanket with a cup of tea. However, this year I...

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Frida Kahlo On Angels

Frida Kahlo and her words resonate with me today. Wrapping our wings around those who are lost to the external and allowing ourselves to be transformed internally in that grief and love. I am working on my contemplative practice. Prayer. Listening. Quieting my compulsions to be heard. Realizing that the loud voice in my life...

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Little Love Notes #1

Little love notes from me to you today. I am going to try to make this a regular feature. xoxo

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Inspired Words – The Sea Is Your Hedge

I’ve never really thought of myself finding inspired words in poetry. However, the last few years I have been leaning hard into reading more of it and have discovered some of the most powerful writing as a result. One of my favourites is Natasha Trethewey’s Myth . However, I always seem to end up back with my first poetic love, Elizabeth Barrett Browning.

She offered me my first sense of word magic as a teen and, if I am to be honest, was the very reason I became a writer. She inspired me to be bold, experiment, play with form, fend off the desire to do what everyone else is doing.

Creating My Own Inspired Words

Lately, I’m finding myself more and more drawn to writing poetry for myself. Browning and her longings seem to show up regularly and I am discovering a combination of her and Emily Dickinson with a twist of magic as the essence of my own style.

Nature As A Muse

Vancouver is endless in its ability to draw out the storyteller in me. The beach near my house is so quiet and calm, even with the king tides this time of year. I like to sneak out of the house just as the sun is coming up and walk down right to the water’s edge. Sticking my hands in the cold, salty water is better than coffee. The birds, that normally stay clear of most humans, even join me in the morning ritual.

A walk along the beach a few mornings ago provoked my latest. Here is The Sea Is Your Hedge:

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Revealing The Power Of Women

When I woke up this morning, I knew it was International Women’s Day. I found myself at a loss for what to write about. I love all the posts about raising and being strong women. They are so warm and wonderful. However, they are not really my style.

Still, nothing settled on me. So, I opened up Jungian psychologist Dr. Sharon Blackie’s The Enchanted Life. Figured it would come to me eventually. Her writing has inspired quite a bit of my own lately. My work with the ancient Sibyls and ongoing study of goddess-based cultures in the ancient world has drawn me to many incredible women. Blackie, who woke a sleeping giant in me. That’s what women do. We awaken that deep knowing, that ancient, powerful sensibility. It’s that Holy Yes, as Abbess Christine Valters Paintner of Abbey of the Arts calls it, to find our skin, stripped from us generations ago, and know ourselves.

The Holy Yes

Oh, how I would love to write about that, I thought. I hesitated. Too woo-woo? It’s really on my mind. What if people think I’ve lost my common sense? Then, I read this from Blackie:

“We might, deep down in our hearts, believe that there are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamed in the empiricists’ philosophy, but most of us probably feel we’d be wise not to talk about them in public . . . I still find myself flinching if ever I should happen to use words like ‘holy’ , ‘sacred’, ‘reverence’, or ‘spiritual.’ I’m not entirely sure I won’t someday be burned at the stake if I confess the there’s something in me which believes the old gods are alive, still, and walk the land, if only you know where to find them . . .”

– Sharon Blackie

It was like her story found me and said, “Yeah, well, you don’t get to hide the dichotomy in you any more if you want to do the real work, Rivers. It’s part of who we are.”

Revealing The Power of Women

There are so many ways women my age are coming into ourselves right now. Art, activism, service to name a few. However, for many of us still, our inward knowing and our outward mask are very different. Maybe we deny the inward longings completely. Often we try on versions of ourselves that listen to the calls we hear in certain ways. What is most accepted? That’s the one we lean into. Because who wants the eye rolling and incessant criticism that permeates modern life?

If I leaned all the way into a Holy Yes, what would my friends who have heard me rant about religion for years say? When I tell you I call the Virgin Mary and the dark primal goddess Mokosh of my Polish roots in my daily prayers, would you mutter, “Oh, she’s one of them” and back away? Even as we rise up, we often do it fearfully.

It’s been a huge dilemma for me. It was brought about by the way I grew up (in a devoted Catholic family) and the way I live now (as what I will simply label as open to the divine in everything). I lean hard into my intuition, listen to the wind, call the wards to protect my house. My days are regularly filled with what I will call my spiritual Team Robin. I write novels about lost ancient matriarchal societies. My crew is clearly female. I will never return to church because I simply cannot rationalize the abject evils committed within such a power structure.

However, lately (and all my life, if I am honest) I keep finding myself in front of the Virgin Mary. I cannot release myself from her as the Great Mother. The embodiment of the goddess who comes in so many forms, in so many of us as women. How could I rationalize all of this? Like Blackie, my discomfort with the juxtapositions inside and outside of me is profound. It is also stopping me from making progress on the rich inner life that I’ve diligently carved away at over the last few years.

It turns out, a few beautiful women sorted that one out for me.

I stood in my parent’s house these last two weeks, a looming diagnosis for Sharon, the deep unknowing for my Dad. We weren’t sure how any of us will cope with loss and grief. I experienced a sort of epiphany. Mary is everywhere in my parent’s house. She’s totally Team Rivers and they infuse her power into their lives every day. I didn’t need to let worry about acceptance, cynicism, judgement about religion or any modern convention creep in. Their house is, legitimately, one of the most sacred and peaceful places I have ever stood. There is a reverence of the divine there, and Mary—for them—is the manifestation of that.

Meanwhile, I had an experience of my own. For many reasons, my Dad and I had not stood in front of one another in ten years. As soon as he told me about Sharon’s situation, I knew I had to go. It was a call, quite literally, to return to a home I had never seen. To rectify the losses and not have the final moments together be of grief instead of joy. The first morning I was there, I sat on a bench across the street from my parent’s house. I sobbed uncontrollably. I had been beside myself with emotion since before I left Vancouver. The world evaporated around me. Everything lost its color in a shocking bright moment. I was surrounded by a cloudy veil.

A tiny woman sat down next to me. I knew who she was, Sharon’s mother who passed several years ago. She sat with me for a long time, then my own mother who passed in 2015 took her place. We talked for almost half an hour. As I walked back to the house, I could barely breathe from the experience. Was I crazy? Had it even happened? When Sharon’s mom showed up again a few days later, I told my parents what Edna said.

“Tell Bob and Sharon that I love the bench.”

Sharon burst into tears. It turned out that, just before her mom died, my dad built her a bench. A bench she often told them she loved. A bench that she sat on in one of the last pictures taken of her and Sharon. It is framed and perched on a shelf in their home. What I experienced was real, we all knew it. Mary, the Great Mother, powerful women. They transformed us and our time together became some of the most meaningful moments of our lives.

So, if I can leave you with anything on this International Women’s Day, it is to believe in the power of women as the weavers of the world. We are the keepers of the stories. The goddess in all of her forms lives in all of us. You don’t have to pick a side or deny it all together. Simply be open to such a presence.

Blackie speaks a truth so many of us already know. There are more things here and beyond this world than the empiricists’ philosophy can even imagine. If only we know where to find them.

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The Thrill and Reality of Solo Travel

A bunch of my friends asked me this week about solo travel advice for women since I often travel by myself. Traveling solo as a woman of a certain vintage is a unique experience. There are many points in a woman’s life where traveling alone may seem depressing or scary. Not in your 50s. It is, honestly, the golden age for solo travel as a woman. Here’s why, at least for me.

FontevraudSolo Travel Advice For Women Over 50What I learned on my second solo trip to France:It sounds odd, but no one pays any attention to you. In a youth-focused beauty culture, older women aren’t cat-called, followed, propositioned, or really noticed at all. We can go about our business and enjoy our lives without being constantly sexualized and, frankly, it’s a win all over the place.Women my age are taken seriously. When I walked into a space with inquiries or requests, I got quick, thorough and thoughtful responses. I had access to places most tourists don’t have access. I got recommendations, had really provocative discussions, met all kinds of people. Which leads me to #3.Solo travel can be a much richer experience because it allows you to adjust your plans based on who you meet, your energy levels, unexpected opportunities to create community, often leading to even richer experiences. I stayed in BNBs and Air BNBs that I knew I would have the chance to chat with the owners and get to know people. That sense of having friends abroad is something no hotel experience offers.It gives you lots of opportunity to see what you are capable of managing. I’m not going to create a romantic, carefree notion of solo travel. It is about being diligent, smart, taking calculated risks, having back-up plans for the back-up plans, leaving itineraries with people who can find you if you get lost or something more serious happens. It tests you, sometimes in ways that are supremely problematic or have tomorrow-related consequences. However, I love a good challenge. And, frankly, I’m normally a back-ups for the back-up sort of person.It is hard, sometimes, and that is important. I had several supreme screw ups. Big events I had planned ended up being privately traumatic because I hadn’t anticipated crowds or heat or blisters or train strikes. I embarrassed myself, paid waaaaay too much for a thing or two because I didn’t understand how to pay for them. Cried a few times. All of these moments are now great stories and forced me to choose if I was going to let things like these own me, or if I could accept them as being human and living the full range of that. There were definitely times when I had to smack myself around to get out of a screw-up related funk. Sometimes it required collapsing into bed with an apple and half a bottle of wine for dinner. Sometimes, I let it all roll off me.I am okay with coming home to the quiet, edge-of-the-earth life here in Vancouver. I honestly don’t really want to travel again for a while, and that is weird for me. I am looking forward to these quiet winter months of writing and family and transforming this experience into a fictional world. Finding that ebb and flow is new for me. I’m going to really lean in to it all and create for a while. Then, when the time is right, head back out for another adventure.

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The Alleyway of Hell Leads to My Place

I got to Saumur, France around 5:30 last night. I would tell you the train ride was lovely, but I have no clue. Slept through the whole damn thing.

My flat here is tucked away in a wee alcove, which I deliberately chose so that I would actually rest. Resting, ha, that is not a thing for me. However, I do like to pretend.

Of course, it ends up to have a great story. There are two ways to get to my courtyard. The first is through this enormous gorgeous walkway (see daytime pictures here).

The second is through Ruelle de l’enfer – the Alleyway of Hell.

This sounds slightly ominous. However, I have been working on my French by listening to French music and one of my fave artists is Stromae. His song L’enfer has been on my writing soundtrack for the new novel for months. Ah, the magic of France has already kicked in. Check out the video for a little tour of the alley.

I had a wonderful dinner last night of regional traditional food including this amazing squash tartar and chicken and leek stew. I only ate out once my last trip because I had so much trouble ordering food in French. No more. Entire meal ordered in French. Fairly long conversation in French also happened with the restaurant owner. Level unlocked!

Saumur, France is an absolutely lovely city on the Loire Valley with a fascinating history both in the far past (castles and kings) and more modern (World War II). It is the home to the French calvary and lots of military activity. I found it full of interesting people, friendly historians who answered my endless questions, and so much beauty. This bustling center makes it easy to get around by bus and on foot and I love it.

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Join Me On-Location In France, Learn How.

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On Location with Woman On The Wall

Picture yourself at the edge of Loire River. In the background, the stark, ancient remains of Les Greniers de César peek out from above the trees. You whip out your book. You start to read from the very spot where its writer stood three years earlier. It’s the location that the very line you are reading is set in.

If you are anything like me, that sort of book moment is best-life material. I base so much travel solely on getting to see literary locations for myself. It is no secret that my recent trip to Scotland involved a certain historical romance, Witcher filming locations, and a few Harry Potter squee moments.

So, it is with absolute book nerd-level squeeing (there I go again) that I get to take all of you on a 10-day behind-the-scenes tour of the IRL locations from Woman On The Wall, The Sibylline Chronicles Vol. 1.

This is going to be fun.

Details About the Virtual Tour

I’m going to read passages (short, I promise, no spoilers) from the book at some pretty incredible locations (you even get the chance to choose some of them). I planned a midnight tour of Fontevraud Abbey. Join me for two days in Amboise reliving the world of Marie and Aesmeh. We even a dip our toes into Volume 2 with an incredible secret location tour. We wrap it all up in Paris in late October with a very special afternoon.

How to Participate

Follow along on Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/robinmrivers/

On Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/robinmriversauthor/

TikTok is getting into the action too at https://www.tiktok.com/@robinriversauthor

And, there’s gear to win! Later this week, I’ll pass along the details on how to access the longer tours and premium content (no purchase necessary, I promise) and a fun contest for you to get involved too.

Now, let’s get down to the best-life stuff.

What are some of the locations from the novel that you want to actually see? Comment below and I will reveal the tour schedule on Monday. I plan to include as many of your requests as I can make happen.

Lastly, repost this with the tag #WOWgoestoFrance to your Facebook feed, on Instagram, TikTok, or Twitter and you’ll jumpstart your contest entries.

I can’t wait to show you Marie and Aesmeh’s world.

Grab a Kindle, Kobo, Nook, or Apple eBook copy of the novel and join in.

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