Training for the Muse.
The alchemical fire of the sacred feminine. A living tradition.
Calling the Rain
“Calling the Rain” is an annual 6-week residency, 2 women artists enclosed in one room in the dark of the winter. This living vessel began in 2018 to call forth a body of work, a 25 year practice and prayer to receive and preserve the deep teachings of this tradition. “Two women gazing into each other’s eyes, calling the rain!” comes from from the early Taoist tradition of the Immortal Sisters, the character for the magician/alchemist, she who is called to the hidden root of life in service to truth. The practice/prayer for rain, the grace and benevolence of Heaven.
Join us for the 2nd BOOK LAUNCH of The School of 3 Lights
Forgotten Bloom, Sarah H. Paulson, 2025
(excerpt below)
An Afternoon of Poetry and Dessert with
Sarah H. Paulson and Laura C. Stelmok
“Two women gazing into each other’s eyes, Calling the Rain!”
Writing from the annual winter artist residency, “Calling the Rain”
When: Sunday December 21, 2025 3:30-6:00 pm
Where: Sheepscot Hollow (live) and on ZOOM! (virtual)
28 Nilsen Lane, Whitefield, ME, 04353
Please email us if you would like the Zoom information.
Released November 18, 2025
The 3 Lights Press
$20.00 + $4.99 Shipping and Handling
To purchase the new book CLICK HERE
Forgotten Bloom (an excerpt)
You agree to be the forgotten part in order that she can remember something in herself. This is friendship at its root.
There is No Door
There is a residual pain from traveling.
She travels the human soul.
This bloom is one that waits for the mortal condition
to make way for the immortal condition.
The mortal must approach the immortal,
must sweep the threshold,
must not skip the path
to be opened into the door.
“But there is no door!” the mortal complains.
The mortal cries in pain, in pitiful despair.
The immortal knows this mortal of dense earth.
For the blooming is within,
no density can trudge upon the petals.
Her reflection is touched through my friend’s worn hands.
Between the earth that holds us and the earth within us,
we are privy to the earth that is us—
gleaming toward my hands, our hands,
locked and caressing, reminding us
of our humanness, of our lineage,
reminding us of the secrets held in
ecstatic bondage.
All of them—
they go into the earth,
this earth that is my love,
my lover,
my teacher,
my student,
my ungendered position of praise and sacrifice.
This earth is the one that teaches service,
not the effort to reach this buried place.
The ecstasy is in the effort
and the service is in her existence.
Sarah H. Paulson, Gathering with the Angel, 2025