Three days ago a friend suggested I join a Facebook group I’d never heard of, the Dull Women’s Club, so I could read some of the wonderful stories ordinary women from all over the world have posted. After about half an hour of reading, I dashed off an introduction to myself and my quiet world here in rural France. Who knew that a couple days later that post would have so many likes (12.5k this morning) and that it would lead to having contact with so many remarkable women? What an incredible experience.
I spent most of the next two days responding to the comments. I wanted to respond to every single one—so many of them touched my heart so deeply. What’s amazing about the stories is their ordinariness.
My teacher Alice O. Howell‘s book The Dove in the Stone is subtitled Finding the Sacred in the Commonplace, and that’s been my path ever since I first read it. I even facilitated a long-running discussion group about the book at my dining room table on Thursday mornings. But even though I was exploring the book every week and had a reasonable understanding of it, I can remember the exact moment that its importance sank into my bones.
We had a huge house in California then, very different from the little one we live in now. One or two of our five kids were always in college then, causing a major drain on our finances, so I cleaned the house myself. One day I’d climbed up to dust a high shelf and I was thinking about how to present the next chapter in The Dove and the Stone the next day. I picked up a small vase and was turning it in my hand to get the dust out of the cracks when it struck me.
Our big house
The understanding hit me in the heart like an electric shock and then rippled through my body. This is it. This is what I’m here for, to see the sacred in the commonplace. I had to climb down and make a cup of tea.
Our little house in France
So, when I came across the Facebook group filled with introductions to ordinary women my heart filled with joy. For the second time in my life I felt that I’d truly met my tribe. (The first was when I was 12 and went to an art and music camp for the first time.) But this time the tribe is hundreds of thousands of women.
Suddenly, as a result of the opportunity of meeting so many people through the facebook group, Red Vienna, is selling well, and lots of people are reading my blog.
On top of that, I found an outstanding narrator to for the audiobook version and her first sample arrived in my mailbox this morning.
I cannot express my gratitude. It’s over the top.
Eve Neuhaus 
Ah, those everyday moments, like walking to the mailbox to see if today is the day that “Red Vienna” arrives in a shipment with “Inclusive Transportation” by Veronica Davis, and noticing the progress of the swelling buds on the valley oaks, grazing on the dandelion and mustard greens so many are ready to dismiss as “weeds.” Noticing the increasing shortness of my midday shadow as the Sun’s path lifts to favor the Northern Hemisphere. (That path is about to cross the Equator! Happy Nawruz–Persian New Year! Meanwhile, some folks are pursuing the attentive soul exercise of Ramadan, others of Lent, while some are awaiting the miracle of Passover and wondering what would be taken and what left behind if called to leave in a hurry. Voluntary austerity as a way of being ultra-thankful for the everyday.) Of course, I have fond memories of special feasts in your big house in SLO (and of Seneca!) and was delighted to note the cat in the window in your photo of your present smaller abode! Yes, finding the deep resonance of everyday moments is an essential ingredient in resisting the collective insanities of our times; we can discover that sanity and grace are far more accessible than we have been trained to recognize.
Oh, Eric, your comments always warm my heart. What a lovely intimate view of your world. Enjoy Red Vienna! ❤️❤️❤️