www.sacredwomancollective.com www.DesertHealthNews.com November/December 2026 Natural Options The Valley's Leading Resource for Health and Wellness 10 Mindfully Crafted Culinary Ingredients | Artisanal Teas Wellness Supplements | Natural Body Care | Gifts 115 S. Palm Canyon Drive, Palm Springs CA | 442.998.4085 PALM SPRINGS Curated circles, gatherings and retreats for women drawn to connection, reflection, and community Visit SacredWomanCollective.com to learn more. (760) 485-3433 • alison@sacredwomancollective.com • sacredwomancollective Alison Mullins, IPHM International Practitioners of Holistic Medicine Come Back To The Earth, Come Back To Yourself. FEBRUARY 3–8, 2027 JOSHUA TREE, CA Soul Rooted RETREATS Scan to learn more and reserve your spot, space is very limited. “An Intimate Retreat for only 12 women. Focused on disconnecting from the modern world and reconnecting with yourself.” -Olivia Ramirez Smith Host and Founder Having recently lost my father, I’ve come to know grief as an unpredictable emotion. It finds me in ordinary moments, often when I’m busy doing something else. There is no recipe or roadmap, and I don’t believe any two people grieve quite the same way. As the holidays approach, many of us will be gathering without someone we love. Others may be grieving a relationship, a job, a move or the loss of something they thought would always be there. Grief has many doorways. What has surprised me is how often joy walks through them, too. After moving my mother into her new home, I began emptying my parents’ house. There was still food in the refrigerator and pantry, the literal emptying of the pickle jars. It was my first time there alone without either of them. A familiar home with an unfamiliar silence. Then, behind a piece of furniture, I found a foam Nerf dart. My children are now in their thirties. That dart had probably been there for twenty years. Suddenly, I could see my boys running through the house, shooting darts around corners, my father surely participating in every bit of the shenanigans. There I stood, surrounded by things to pack and discard, smiling at this ridiculous little treasure. The joy still lived here. Leaving that afternoon, I walked into a magnificent sunset, sunbeams pouring through the clouds. I missed my father, and I felt the beauty of what was in front of me. Neither feeling diminished the other. I imagine grief in one pocket and joy in the other. Reach into both, and you can hold them in your hands at the same time. In my teaching, I offer another way to hold that connection. Place one hand over your heart and the other on your belly. Let the heart hand represent your connection to someone you love; let the belly hand represent your connection to yourself. Notice how your arms form a circle around you. Breathe gently, without forcing depth. Feel your belly expand, your ribs widen and your chest rise beneath your hand. As you exhale, feel your chest, ribs and belly soften. Follow this comfortable rhythm for a few breaths. If it feels welcome, picture your loved one. Imagine love moving around that circle— from you to them, from them to you. Gentle breathing can help settle the body; the image offers a way to hold the connection you miss. As you move through this season, let grief have its place. There is no shame in its waves. And when you can, reach into the other pocket. Perhaps there is a memory, a laugh, a small forgotten treasure. You can miss someone deeply and still receive the joy that finds you. There is room for both. Alison Mullins is a holistic health coach accredited by the International Practitioners of Holistic Medicine (IPHM). She is the founder of Coppermoon and owner of the Sacred Woman Collective Coachella Valley Branch and can be reached at alison@coppermoonrising.com or (760) 485.3433. www.coppermoonrising.com. Joy in the Other Pocket By Alison Mullins, IPHM It’s May 1994. We are three American women completing our acupuncture and Traditional Chinese Medicine (TCM) education and internship at a large hospital in Shanghai, China. Nothing is as expected. Our fellow doctors do not speak English, and we do not speak Chinese. On our first day, we arrive in a room filled with people sitting in chairs and lying on treatment tables. Our hosts gesture for us to follow and observe as they question each patient about their symptoms, insert acupuncture needles and move on to the next person. The room is remarkably quiet and peaceful. Patients speak softly and respectfully. They are instructed to point to their areas of concern so that we can understand the conditions we are expected to treat. But TCM requires much more than a pain point to determine an effective acupuncture treatment or herbal prescription. As new interns, we are eager to demonstrate our knowledge and proficiency to our hosts. Again, nothing is as expected. As we look around the room, we begin to recognize something essential: These are not simply patients or conditions to diagnose. They are people seeking relief, comfort and a return to health. So, we sit with each person, discovering how much we can learn and communicate without a shared language. The more present we become with each patient, the more present they become with us. A man in pain. A woman experiencing anxiety. People suffering from headaches, shingles, swollen joints and many of the same conditions we have encountered in our clinics back home in the states. With each passing day, our confidence grows, along with our awareness of what it means to meet the unexpected. We begin to communicate and understand one another on a level we had never imagined possible. One afternoon, a doctor we have not met before appears at the end of clinic shift and asks, simply, “Learn tai chi?” We follow her to a nearby park, where we join a gathering of tai chi students led by a masterful teacher. No English. No words. No verbal instruction. Only powerful presence and demonstration. From that day forward, we return to the park after clinic every day. Nothing is as expected. Our months in Shanghai become an experience rich with meaning and lifelong learning. We find ourselves in circumstances that require us to release our expectations and cultivate a receptive, alert stillness. Our eyes and our touch convey the kindness and care that our words cannot express. Their eyes reflect a quiet grace. We meet one another in our shared humanity. As the holidays approach this year, may you quiet your usual expectations and allow the season to unfold as it will. May you find loving-kindness for yourself, your family and your friends. The Buddhist teacher Thich Nhat Hanh offers a powerful centering meditation: Breathing in, I have arrived. Breathing out, I am home. May you be home for the holidays. Dr. Van Santen is a doctor of acupuncture and oriental medicine with Circe Healthcare Solutions and can be reached at (760) 773.4948. Home for the Holidays Let presence be your present By Patty Van Santen, DAOM, LAc Van Santen (right) and friends in Shanghai, 1994
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