Keep on Singing

I remarked on a friend's Facebook post yesterday that 90% of the time I have no difficulty approaching and living life with joy and gratitude. But oh, that other 10%! It can feel like much more. Even in the best of times. In the current limitations and challenges posed by the pandemic, that 10% feels greater, the depths of which require much intention and focus.

This morning I woke up feeling like a 10% day. It is Friday, it is gloomy, it is cold and windy. I lay in my bed, turning over to block out the light from the window, and sighed, wishing I could just snuggle in until my mood shifted. Unfortunately (or fortunately?) that isn't an option. Friday is still a work day and I still have plenty of work to do. As I laid there in the quiet of my bedroom, I heard the birds singing. Picking out the notes of a cardinal and red-winged blackbirds almost made me smile. Not quite, but almost! It is their season. They begin every day in spring with a song, attracting mates, warning off competitors. If it's cold, they simply puff up their feathers, trapping heat close to their bodies. My equivalent of a wool sweater. But the song continues regardless, sending happy notes to any willing to listen.

My morning routine, now that I am working from home, includes checking email and social media before getting out of bed. Probably not the best practice, but allows me to organize my day. As I clicked on the Facebook page, my "memories" popped up. The first memory was from a friend, posting on my page that she had seen two baltimore orioles on the way home. Birds again. One of my many nerdy pleasures. I hope everyone has "that friend". That friend that joins you in whatever nerdy things finds you pleasure. Yesterday I posted a video of a tortoise sliding down a hill on her page. She's the one I text when I see the first snake in spring. Suddenly, the joy of our friendship brought a renewal of spirit. Grateful for a nerdy friend to share the joy I find in nature.

Sounds of Spring - Day 12 Shelter in Place

A friend posted a great reminder about gratitude this morning. The most important aspect is the finding of things to be grateful for, it is in the practice of looking those things for which to be grateful. Linking gratitude to emotional intelligence, it is a build it like a muscle situation. The more you look, the more you develop a practice of being grateful and the easier it comes.

But let's be honest. In the best of times, it can be difficult to be watchful for gratitude. In a pandemic? It can feel like another "to do" item on a list that seems insurmountable. All the more reason to develop it like a muscle. Yesterday was difficult for me. No good reason beyond the current state of affairs. Well, perhaps the added discouragement of temps in the thirties with rain to close out March. And that sun? Mr. Golden Sun? Yeah, he wasn't around. I gave myself permission to hunker down, read a book, chat with my brother. But I didn't intentionally focus on gratitude.

Today loomed in the much the same gloomy manner. But I began my day with meditation, devotions and a workout. Made it to the office in time (that dining room table can be a long walk!) and dressed in a blouse and real pants! Determined to put my best foot forward. As the day wore on, the gray skies outside were feeling like they were inside. It is difficult to not be focused on the many negative realities (increased infection rate and deaths, very real possibility of social isolating being months, not weeks). Closing the computer early evening, I knew I needed outdoor time for my body and soul. Noelle and I headed to our local loop to catch a couple of trail miles.

The sun, trying to peek out, seemed as discourage as I felt. As Noelle and I made our way around the loop, I suddenly remembered the social media post from this morning. The power is in the looking. As these thoughts were coming, I rounded a corner to a very low, marshy area of the trail, to an eruption of chorus from spring peepers. The combined voices create a vibrating hum in the air, not dissimilar to locusts on a hot summer day. As I soaked up the song, I thought about the other sounds I had heard on the trail. The loud, raspy cry of the kingfisher. The water gurgling along drainage paths to the river. This week I had been focusing on the absence of the sun. The visual signs of spring. In my quest for gratitude I encountered the sounds of spring. All it took was this intentional looking. to see a connection to signs that the world is moving forward, life is continuing.

Today I am grateful for:

• Peepers in their glorious spring, mating chorus.
• The squish of mud on spring trails that keeps the less than hardy from making them a crowded space.
• Social media posts that inspire. (Don't be afraid to scroll, scroll, scroll, past those that don't!)

What Gratitude is Not

A friend posted a "real" Facebook post last night. The kind that says I am struggling here, but I'm going to count my blessings. I felt my heart flooding with gratitude as I read her words, her strength in reaching out to her community. To "keeping it real". In this time of sheltering and isolation I hear many people thoughtfully considering how they might invest this gift of time. In that post, it felt like asking for permission. Permission to not be doing everything right, to acknowledge the difficulty of the moment. It reminded me of the mantra that is emerging from Glennon Doyle's latest book Untamed: We Can Do Hard Things! Oh yes, we can. But we can't do them by pretending everything, including us, is just fine.

I remember the first time I practiced guided meditation. It was on a besties trip to Colorado to celebrate our year of turning 40 (no need to discuss how long ago it was). We rented a great house and one day had a woman come out to give us massages and lead us in a group meditation. I have difficulty with stillness. Not in an ADHD, knee shaking, toe tapping, kind of way. In a truly relaxing of expectations and the need to be productive way. What she shared has stuck with me as a lesson that reaches further than meditative practice. The idea is not to be free from thoughts. That is not how we are created. Thoughts will come, even in the stillness. Acknowledge the thought, for until we do it is not free to go.

Thoughts will come during this season that are not of gratitude. Well meaning admonishments, memes and social media posts that compare our current privilege (for some) reality of shelter in place to that of Anne Frank's time hidden in an attic, or the loss of a significant rite of passage for our high school seniors to those who didn't finish their senior year in the late 60's because they were sent to Vietnam are abundant. These do not serve as a call to gratitude. I can't say it as well as Brene Brown, so I'm going to send you to her new podcast "Unlocking Us", the FFT episode (I will let you discover what  "FFT" stands for).  We are all experiencing this for the first time. High school seniors need to have their very real loss acknowledged, not compared to past sacrifice. Parents staying at home, working and trying to school their children need acknowledgement of the stress of this new ask, even while yes being grateful that they have a home and food and, you get it. Let's partner with one another in acknowledging the feelings that come from this FFT stress. In doing so, we can find our way back to gratitude.

Today I am grateful for:

• A comfortable home, with a good supply of what is both necessary and luxury at this time.
• While I acknowledge that being sheltered in place alone is, well, lonely.
• Technology that keeps me working and socially connected.
• While frustrated by the continuous stream of negativity.
• My fierce friends, will to be real in this moment.
• While wishing I could see their faces and hug them close.

We Can Do Hard Things. If we just stop pretending things aren't hard. 

Day 3-Remote Working and Social Distancing

In what feels like the precipitating event to a dystopian novel, the COVID-19 virus pandemic is creating a history in the moment reality. With countries under mandatory shelter and seclusion, travel limited, business shifting to work at home or closure, it is a very different world. As an education administrator, we are working to stay connected to our students and provide staff with training and support to continue to engage our students in learning. This shift is like nothing we have experienced before! One suggestion I read, for kids and adults, was to journal this time. This unprecedented, ever shifting, reality is one that is worth documenting.

So day three of remote working. Let's set the scene. First, I get energy from social interaction. I enjoy physical touch and connection. I want to be with those I love, laughing and talking and sharing. My living companion? My sweet dog Noelle (we call her Smooch). She is loving. And cuddly. Let's just say on day three, with rumors that the suggested social distancing are soon to become a more mandated leave your house only for essential services, there is growing concern of the coming days with just the two of us.

On day one of remote work I scheduled myself as if I were going to work. The release from my 50 minute commute meant I was able to begin using a new meditation app, read my four daily readings, get in a circuit workout and still be showered and in front of my computer by 7:30 a.m. I was on a roll! Rolled downhill from that point. I used to think my shift to administration meant a lot of sit time. Nothing compared to coordinating and connecting virtually. I won't bore you with the number of hours. Let's just say lack of commute time was not time harnessed for personal gain!

Day two began with me waking up at 4:30 (that is when the group texts and Snapchats begin), ignoring emails and texts until 5:00, then productively responding for almost an hour. Realizing I was still tired, I rolled over and went back to sleep. Until my son returned my text at 7:15! The late start resulting in no morning workout, recording screencasts for staff in no make up, a hoody and flannel pajama bottoms, and not being in front of my computer until 8:00 a.m. In reality, there was much accomplished in that day, but I was left feeling constantly behind.

Which brings us to day three. Today. I needed to find a more harmonious approach, especially as this quite possibly will extend beyond the two-three weeks originally intended. I gave myself some grace. Slept until 6 a.m. Still had plenty of time to meditate, read, work out and shower. But I allowed myself an 8:00 a.m. at the computer start time instead of 7:30. I also decided that I was not going to spend my semi-quarantine time becoming a sloth. I have enjoyed creating a wardrobe that I love over the past two years. So I chose a comfortable dress, pulled out my flower earrings in celebration of almost spring, put on my pearl necklace and bracelet, and got down to business. It helped. Especially because this was the first day of truly considering what life will be like alone during quarantine. It can be an overwhelming thought. One that I allowed myself to feel, without judgement, before setting my gaze on the spaces of gratitude that will bring my focus back to joy.

What are your fears as we enter this new space? What are you doing to practice grace and to order your day?

Today I am grateful for wonderful friends, who care to connect with me during this time, and the technology that makes it possible.

Counting the Ways of Love

How Do I Love Thee? (Sonnet 43)

Elizabeth Barrett Browning 1806-1861

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.

I love thee to the depth, and breadth, and height

My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight

For the ends of being, and ideal grace.

I love thee to the level of every day's

Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light.

I love thee freely, as men strive for right.

I love thee purely, as they turn from praise.

I love thee with the passion put to use

In my old griefs, and my childhood's faith.

I love thee with a love I seemed to lose

With my lost saints. I love thee with the breath,

Smiles, and tears of all my life; and, if God choose,

I shall love thee but better after death.

This sonnet by Browning is what comes to mind whenever I think of love, and what better day to think of love than Valentine's Day. While it has never been a big, romantic celebration for me,  the focus on love makes me smile. So today, I am grateful for the messages, gestures and stories of love that crossed my path including:

• beginning my day with a simple message of "have a good day" from a friend.
• a handmade valentine from a bestie, with a picture from a girls trip.
• a container of strawberries and a beautiful card from my parents (no candy in support of my "off the sugar"plan).
• brewed loose leaf tea from my son, served in a cup from my bonus daughter and her family.

Love lost is also difficult on these days of celebration. These stories were also evident in

• the loss of a beloved family pet.
• a granddaughter carrying on the tradition of a heart shaped cake for her grandfather on his first Valentine's Day since the passing of his wife.
• a shared vacation picture of a friend and her husband who passed unexpectedly.

A friend has started sharing daily devotionals that she writes. I can think of no better words than what Laura has already written:

Love is powerful and extraordinary. Love becomes even more unbelievable and awe-inducing when it is shown to us in the simplest of ways.  Just in case you have forgotten, or you haven’t been told lately- You are loved. You are worthy. May you feel loved and inspired to perform magic as you love others.  

January Rain

Rain in January makes me crabby. True confession. I've intentionally sought to identify the feeling it brings over the past couple of day. It isn't depression. I truly don't deal with seasonal affective issues, enjoying time outside in all kinds of weather. The sun actually was shining quite beautifully for several days at the beginning of the week. It isn't a sadness, as I still find myself quickly smiling at the thought of those I love, a funny text or Snapchat. It truly is just crabby. Like grumbling as I walk through the house, closing doors with a bit more strength than necessary, stomping to the car kind of crabby. The good news is that Noelle is very tolerant of mood swings and she is the only one that has to live with me during this crabby season.

I felt compared to share my crabbiness after a theme emerged from my social media this week. The pressure to live a life that compares with those we follow on social media. We tend to link this to the increased anxiety and mental health issues of our children and teens, but the truth is that is influencing our society in general. As I reflected on this, I thought about what I curate about the "social me". The truth, as those that know me personally will attest, is that I am a glass is 3/4 full, grateful for the life I live person by nature. Fitting for someone who seems more caffeinated from early morning than those who truly are (true story, previous boss threatened to fire me if I every took up the coffee habit. But that is a story for a different post.) I didn't share the end of my marriage, I don't post the nights when I am not only home alone but also lonely, or decided to turn off the 5 a.m. alarm and skip a morning work out. In fact, my original idea for a "gray skies" post was an uplifting, find the beauty even in this season encouragement inspired by a drive home from work in which the gray skies revealed such shades and texture I could not help but smile. Gray skies I truly do find beautiful, in all 50+ shades.

So in full transparency, I share with you my crabbiness. I have not been very smiley the past two days. I am more than a bit bitter that this rain isn't snow. It's January for goodness sake. We need softly falling snowflakes that extend the glitter of the holiday season. The challenge then, is not whether or not we never have crabby, blue or sad days. It is what with do with them. I chose to pull up my fitness app and do my circuit training at night when I skipped it in the morning. I came home from yoga this morning and made myself the same breakfast I would have made if my son were here and I wanted to share a beautiful table with him. I made myself move, and treated myself with the same care I would anyone else I love. This is true self care.  Yes, I'm still feeling crabby. But not quite so much. Noelle and I will be out on a trail this afternoon, regardless of the weather. Most likeley I will start the hike still crabby, until I bring my attention to gratitude for the opportunity to be outdoors, in a place I love. Even if I'm walking in January rain instead of snow.

Still Life- A Breakfast Composed

The beauty of still life art is it inspires a new way to view ordinary objects. Most often, still art features a combination of inanimate objects, both natural and man made. Fruit in a bowl. Flowers in a vase. Wine bottles, cheese and fruit. The form allows for the play of composition of the objects, arranging and rearranging. I was reminded of this as I sat at my dining table for breakfast this morning.

Starting my day with gratitude, purposefully identifying and reflecting on specific things to be grateful for, is my meditative practice. This image, let's call it A Breakfast Composed, represents so many items of gratitude. The more traditional images of pottery fruit bowl and butter dish are made by a family friend. The linen is from my trip to Italy last year. The cup in front of my plate was a birthday gift from my Chief Heroine, Jill,  while the cup in front of my son's plate is from a conference I participated in for several years. The tea was brewed in the new loose leaf brewing pot my son gave me for Christmas and the trivet was made for me by my brother-in-law. I have never been attached to or motivated by "things", preferring experiences and connections with people I love. This still life image does not represent  a love of the "things" pictured. It represents purposefully curating simple things so that even a breakfast, not on china, represents the blessings of my life. Surrounded by by love, represented by objects.

My still life image does break tradition in that I have included a glimpse of my son. Indulge me, as I am ever more grateful for the times that we share now that he has officially moved to adulthood and out of my home. So much to be grateful for on a quiet, snowy morning. What are you grateful for as you start your day?

Icicles

There is something about accomplishing the first work week of a new year that settles the change in routine and mindset that comes with the extended holiday season. As someone who believes the season does not end until Epiphany on January 6th, there is an overlap between the return to work and the holiday. After work on the 6th I worked to undo the holiday decorations. Truthfully, I have been intentional over the past two years to look for pillows, towels and other decorative items that are more winter themed than traditional Christmas. Mostly as an excuse to not have to undo the festive feeling while entering the long months of winter before renewal brought with spring. Snowflakes and birds and winter fauna lend themselves to extended use. In this work I found joy. For the first time, my tree was a bit of a "theme". I did not feel an obligation to hang every ornament my son has collected or been gifted in the past 23 years. To be clear, I would have gladly done so if he were interested, or participated in the decorating, but at this point we have happily settled on tree hunting together while he shirks his celebratory obligations as my Christmas Prince. Think Prince Henry, officially stepping away from "Senior duties" of the royal family and you will get the picture. But there is an aspect of the tree that is inspired by him, representing one of my many bad parenting moments and the lessons I am gifted from his patience in my shortcomings. Icicles. The return of icicles to the Christmas tree.

Image from Wikipedia "tinsel"

As any child of the 60s and 70s remembers, it was often difficult to even see the family Christmas tree through the tinsel hanging from the branches. Thankfully this decorating trend has been relegated to a happy memory. But there was something about the way the silver strands reflected the light of the tree. The idea of replicating ice hanging from trees, such a beautiful natural scene during a season often seen as dark and dreary. Several years ago, at what I deem the beginning of my son's withdrawal from his "senior" duties as Christmas Prince, he chose a single blown glass icicle as his ornament for the year. Now, keep in mind, this is the kid, formerly known as the Christmas Prince, that would most often choose an expensive blown glass ornament that had significance to his year. And then, in the midst of the teen years, chose an icicle. I reacted poorly. Fear of what would be a lifetime of disconnection to the holiday and traditions I held most dear. Thankfully his father intervened, and an icicle it was. And it looked sorely out of place that first year. But then the second year, he chose a set of blown glass icicles. And then for several years after would choose a different set, or more ornate icicles. Last year I decided I needed enough for the icicles to truly be a design choice and purchased more sets. I now have a tree filled with beautiful blown glass icicles dangling from the ends of branches, catching the lights and reflecting in a way reminiscent of the tinsel of my childhood, but in a way that feels more connected with my affinity for the natural world.

Often I see posts on social media with parents, especially moms, lamenting their children getting older, missing the early stages of childhood and what no longer is instead of celebrating what each new stage brings. I have been arrogant in my belief that this is one parenting mistake I didn't make! And yet, there are icicles. On my tree. That are a beautiful reminder that the fear of the changes that come naturally as our children mature into the adults they are meant to be will, yes, mean celebrations and relationships are different. But the changes may bring something more beautiful than we could have imagined in the middle of our fear. Unbecoming. It does not mean what was in the past did not serve. Unbecoming allows what is and will be to be celebrated more than what was is mourned.

Today I am grateful for lessons I am learning and have learned in the transitions of parenthood. What are you grateful for on this Sunday?

Unbecoming

“Maybe the journey isn’t so much about becoming anything. Maybe it’s about un-becoming everything that isn’t really you, so you can be who you were meant to be in the first place.”

― Paulo Coelho

I first saw this quote on a social media meme, probably early fall of 2019. It was one of those moments when the pause happens involuntarily. And you read again. And then one more time. Ahhhhh. So much yes. Reflecting on my journey of gratitude, this resonating with my soul in a way that the idea of "becoming" my true self did not. For if we are divinely created, how can we not already possess all that we need to complete our mission for this time and in this space? 

As I focus on "unbecoming" as my word of intent to guide 2020, I picture it no differently than the shedding of weight to have a healthy body. Only this spiritual weight is the expectations of our culture, belief systems and family. There may have been times that the extra weight felt comforting, protective. But at a certain point, the flabby belly needs to be dealt with (unfortunately, this is less metaphorical for me). As with building a healthy body, eliminating the fat is only the first step. In order for a body to function as it is designed it needs to be strong and flexible. Unbecoming is not a rebellion against upbringing or `manifesto against a patriarchal culture. Although it can include both. It is the realization that everything that you are, and were ever meant to be, already exist within you. Your work is to shed the weight that is hiding the strongest version of you. Who knows, maybe by the end of this year of "unbecoming" I will have shed enough to see an ab. Or two. Without the belly flap :)

Honoring that a meme led me to this focus, here are a few more that confirmed or spoke to this work to be done.

                                                             

Have you chosen a word of intent for 2020? What do you need to work on as you "unbecome" everything you were not meant to be?

Every Last Drop

New Years Eve. The End that signals a beginning. I think that's what's so special about New Years. With many, if not most, endings, there is not necessarily a beginning on the horizon that seems hopeful or inspiring. It's also why we tend to be done with the year, wanting to forget or move on from the experiences and lessons that were difficult in the hope of different or better to come. My word of intent for 2019, "engage", has helped me stay focused on squeezing every last drop of 2019 before looking or moving forward to 2020. Much like my intentions in previous years, the definition evolved into the lessons I needed instead of the experiences I anticipated.

As I sit home for a quiet New Years Eve, a different way to engage in itself, despite all that wasn't accomplished (mileage goals, number of books, that stubborn belly flubber), intentionally moving beyond presence, to engagement in the present, provided me some great experiences. I am grateful to 2019 for the opportunity to:

• Experience more even while trailing less. More connections, meeting with other women who love books, the outdoors, dogs. Conversations and experiences in the woods are unique. I am blessed to have a "west coast" and "east coast" group of women that keeps expanding.

• Reading that had more intention.  The reality of the demands of graduate studies leaves little free reading. I had to be choosier this year than I ever remember. In the process, I read less books but was more engaged in those that I read. Several were "chewy", worth of the time it took to thoughtfully work through, including "The Restless Wave", "Overland", and "The Starless Sea. I find myself reading more nonfiction than ever, and am choosier about my fiction. My reading challenge Facebook group inspires me as a reader and what to read

Snow Queen!

• Celebrating birthdays with two friends whom I adore. Birthdays were always a very special day in my house growing up, so I tend to treat them a sacred events. They weren't even milestone birthdays, just the chance to share part of the day with those I love. That I won the holiday outfit contest at my Chief Heroine Jill's celebration was just the cherry on top. The Snow Queen knows holiday celebrations!

                                           
                                               This face! The joy of a rainbow.                                                 #adventureswithSimon #sassafrass

• Creating a home. This blog began years ago when I was gifted the Simple Abundance daily journal. I struggled with the creative assignments that had to do with decorating (myself and my house). As I reflect upon this year I do so in a space that for the first time in my life finally feels like home. That it is a space I did not want makes it even more a gift of gratitude. And it isn't about things. It is about a space reflecting who you are and what you value. I received the best compliment from my brother the other night, while we sat in my living room. He remarked that he loved that the space felt like me. Not something that someone had gone to a store and "decorated", but a space that reflected things dear to me, with meaning, purposefully curated. There is much to be grateful for in a peaceful space.

• Learning how to age better than I have lived. The trifecta of hiking, yoga and strength training has my feeling stronger than ever. I have much growth to achieve in all three, and look forward to focusing on developing a stronger body and spirit in the years to come. 

• A wonderful trip to Italy with Bennett. Soaking in the art, history, culture, outdoors and culinary delight were beyond what we had imagined. I continue to be grateful for adventures Bennett shares with me.

In my Sunday morning yoga class, our instructor Alyssa reminded us that we needed to make room for what we needed and desired for 2020. What, if anything, did we need to let go with the year end in order to be open and available to received in 2020? And that thought will guide my 2020 intent. But not until tomorrow!

What are you grateful for in 2019?

Celebrating ALL the days of Christmas

About mid-December, my social media platforms starting sending me notifications for my "year in review". This is why it is difficult to stay present in the digital age! Every time I open one of the platforms there is a message with a link for me to "celebrate" my year with a lovely review, put together for me. RESIST. The year is not yet finished. I plan to engage in what every last day of 2019 has to offer before focusing on 2020. There is time.

Could this be why it is so easy to overindulge during the holidays? Considering the time between Christmas and New Year as almost a free pass? The tradition of celebrating Christmas for thirteen days, from Christmas through January 6th, is a great way to stay connected to engaging in life practices daily. As with Christmas, moving from celebration to celebration, with no thoughtful connection to what is happening in the present, allows one to avoid difficult and necessary work. I am looking forward to 2020. I have even determined my word of intent for the year. But beyond that, I am living in the here and now. Adhering to my 2019 word of intent, engage, until the stroke of midnight on December 31st. I have goals yet to achieve (the book list is seriously competing with the reality of time), people with whom to connect, and a focused commitment on daily challenging my physical abilities. 

On a side note, it is day three and I have yet to receive any partridges, doves or French hens. Oh where for art thou true love?  

How will you stay engaged in these last days of 2019 instead of already being 2020 focused?

Throwing It In

Near the end of July, on what was to be my second of only two outdoor getaways for the summer (and not vacations mind you, short weekend with lots of travel just to get some woods and water), I was lazily swinging in my hammock, looking out at Lake Huron through my bug net, enjoying a book on trees, when I heard what I thought was the unthinkable.

     "Are you committed to staying, even if we throw it in?"

I had heard mumbling and rumbling, somethings about flies, the loud smack of hand against bare skin, possibly even some swears coming from the picnic table beyond the trees. But this? Throwing it in? What was this heresy? Sighing, I realized I was going to have to leave my comfortable cocoon of a hammock and join this conversation. Let's just say that by the time my feet hit the ground, my body no longer in the protective wrap of the hammock, I was feeling their pain. I planted a smile on my face, walked over to the picnic table, ignoring the biting flies. "Are you serious"? "We're serious".

My backpacking friends are a fairly hardy bunch. We travel with what we need on our backs, to locations without "facilities", and can go days without showering. (Full disclosure, we love Michigan because while this sounds badass, in three seasons we can usually find a decent water source to cool off and get a little less trail grubby). Unfortunately, most of us are in a season that between work and family commitments, time on the trail is limited. This was to be our only weekend of the summer. At our favorite spot. With private beach access on Lake Huron. And we're talking about throwing it in? After about five minutes of conversation, which felt like an hour in fly bit time, I capitulated. If they were going, I would go too.

What ensued was the fastest camp tear down I have yet to witness. Three women, with tents pitched, clothes drying and camp luxuries set up, were packed and on the trail in under half an hour. Mind you, this was 90+ degrees and very humid in the middle of the afternoon.

I proceeded to berate myself the two miles back to the car. There is just something about quitting that feels wrong. Adversity makes you grow. Gratitude helps you find a message from the Universe in everything. So giving up? We're taught perseverance as magical character trait that eventually brings a Disney like ending. I didn't even feel better when the sky opened into a downpour just as we reached the car. Perfect timing, right? Rain is part of the backpacking experience. If I packed it in every time it rained....well, let's just say trail time would be virtually non-existent. So no, even the rain didn't change my perspective.

That night, after a good shower, I was left with only my fly bites and thoughts for company. Truthfully? it felt good to be in clean. To rest comfortably in my bed. But the nagging narrative of the wrongness of quitting was relentless. What finally broke through for me was the realization that the guilt was unproductive. There are times, when choices are unproductive or hurtful, that some guilt serves a purpose toward growth. But this guilt was wrapped up in an ideal that I had imposed. No one was hurt by me "quitting" the trip. Not even me.

The growth comes in evaluating the guilt. And finding opportunities to grow. Persevering an unproductive path will not lead to growth or happiness. My life is more authentic, my choices more intentional, as I engage in actively evaluating relationships, career opportunities and moves, and the intention through which I make choices daily. Perseverance may be virtuous and serve to strengthen both resolve and success, but only if the path one is on is the right one.

When have you found "throwing it in" to be the right choice? And have you persevered, just for the sake of persevering, when you knew the quest was more about the negative narrative rather than the right pursuit?

Embracing the Dark

The day after Christmas can often feel like the day after the wedding. All of the time and energy that went into creating a celebration is over quickly.  And the clean up! (the too full tummy, the overindulgence of whatever poison you picked). This year, I wanted to be mindful of the season, to embrace the lessons that are coming with my word of intent for 2019, "engage". I came across blogs, lessons and meditations on advent through the contemplative practice community that inspired me to embrace Advent in the same way Lent is observed. Intentionally, with presence, instead of forward focused on the celebration that is to come.

Last full moon of the decade 12:12 on 12/12/19

The Season of Dark, leading to Winter Solstice as the day with the least amount of light of the year, can be a difficult one. Pressure and expectation of holidays, relationships that may bring unrest in anticipation of engagement or lack thereof, as well as the physical reality of living and moving a world with less light. The contemplative practice was a reminder that this too is a season to be celebrated, embrace, to learn. Engage. Be OK with the dark.

Truly, what that meant for me is learning to be OK with me. With my dark. To engage in the emotions, anticipation, dread, longing, not just for the celebratory season to come, but for life in general. My yoga practice is helping me breathe through the process. Feel the joy when it comes. Let the sadness and disappointment be acknowledged, and then let go. The importance for me was to be engaged enough to recognized the complexity of what I feel, long for and work toward. Every day I CHOOSE JOY. But there are days that the joy is not a feeling of happy, but a true choice of how I will embrace my present and engage to my utmost.

Like the couple who expends the energy and resources to plan a wedding, but has done no work to ensure a successful marriage, the day after becomes a disappointment. Reality sets in. Every day is not a celebration. On this day after Christmas, I sit engaged in this moment. I enjoyed the season, but practicing moderation means I don't feel physically or emotionally bloated. The celebrations were real and necessary and life affirming. As were the moments of dark.

And now, I celebrate the twelve days of Christmas, in anticipation of Epiphany. My tree and decorations will remain up through January 6th. I'm embracing my love of things Nordic by practicing hygge. I'm learning to find joy in a less hurried, scheduled existence and embrace the parts of me so intentionally avoided when not engaged. Love and peace through the last week of 2019. Let's engage in every moment we have of this year, before looking ahead to 2020.

It Isn't January, and That's OK

The other day a friend posted a devotional on Facebook. No caption, no message, just the picture of the daily devotional. Intrigued, I needed more information. Was this a new devotional? In August. Yes, was the answer (from my very verbose friend). Huh. A daily devotional, begun in August. But, but....don't you start those in January?

I am a rule follower. And somehow, starting a daily devotional in August seemed like breaking the rules. Truly, these are the issues I deal with. Is that a rule? If so, who made that rule? These thoughts were turning around in my head; considering, contemplating. What was supposed to be in my head was a School Finance assignment, but I digress. For several years I have enjoyed a daily devotional, some years more than others. The past two I have not found the right fit by the start of the new year. This year I was gifted Maria Shriver's I've Been Thinking early enough in January that it still felt like the start of the year. But it isn't a daily devotional, or one that will last the year if read regularly. So when I finished, I was finished. Already looking for next year. Determined to find the perfect fit that will last me through the year.  And then, this craziness! This start a daily devotion when the year is more than half way over FREEDOM. Yes, that is what this is. Freedom.

Engage is my word of intent for 2019 for many reasons. This silliness around "rules" for when to begin a daily devotional is a fitting example of the boundaries I have created to order my life that, in fact, keep me disengaged. So I will tell you what I did. Inspired by the reckless example of my friend, I bought a daily devotional. In August. One that is set up to be read daily. As in, each entry is labeled with the correct date to be read. And begins with January 1st. I opened the meditation, past the middle of the book, to the August 7th entry. And I read it. My world didn't shatter. Disorder did not ensue. I engaged in contemplation, reflection and scripture. On August 7th as Day 1.

Is it encouraging that it isn't the "BIG" things in life that trip me up? Or is it a diversion, believing that they don't. For now, I'm going to be grateful that my heart, soul and spirit are open to the simple things. Because I have so very  many of them to work through. Every day is an opportunity to Engage. To become your true self unveiled. You don't have to wait for a new year reset.

How are you engaging in life this summer? What challenges are working through as a result of the boundaries that you have created for yourself?

Engaging in Rebellion

Start the Day with a Smile

The early bird catches the sunrise - Mackinac Island

While listening to the audio version of the book Leading With Soul, a particular moment caught my attention in a way that made me eventually have to backtrack and re-listen, as my thoughts overshadowed the narrative. The story is a leadership allegory, with the traditional "sage" and "seeker" roles, moving through leadership choices and reflection. At one point, when bringing Spirit into leadership, the "Seeker" is asked about night time prayers. His response is that the prayer he remembers is the traditional 18th Century bedtime prayer:

Now I lay me down to sleep,

I pray the Lord my soul to keep,

If I should die before I 'wake,

I pray the Lord my soul to take.

The discussion that ensued centered around the fear that accompanies this prayer, when as a young child every night ends with a prayer that emphasizes possible death! As an educator I often contemplate the things we do and say to and in front of children without considering the lasting effects. This prayer to me is the perfect example.

Where my thoughts went while listening to this was a place of gratitude, for a wholly different experience, thanks to my mother and her bedtime rituals with me. There was always reading, to which I attribute my early and continued love of reading. Then prayers, remembering family and friends and that for which we were thankful. The very last part of the bedtime ritual was a lullaby. Specifically Brahms lullaby. Her version veered from the original a bit, but this is what I remember hearing nightly:

Lullaby, and Goodnight,

Go to bed now, and sleep tight.

Close your eyes and start to yawn,

Pleasant dreams until the dawn.

When the sun lights the sky

you will wake feeling spry.

Start the day with a smile,

Life is really worth while.

Now, those who know me, not even that well, will attest that I am a morning person! I truly "start the day with a smile" from the moment I awake. I've been told it's annoying (by former roommates and my sister), but I believe in the spoken word. How could I not arise at sunlight, happy and ready to live life, when from the time I was born this is the message my mother gave me at the end of every day.  What a legacy my mother has given me, which I passed down to my son. Regrettably for him, as my mother is a much better singer. Instead of being sent to bed worrying over death and God wanting my soul, I was already looking forward to the joy of living life another day. 

Happy birthday mom!

My mother requested that family and friends share a favorite memory as part of her birthday celebration this year. I'm a few months late, but this is my story for her. More than a single moment in time, every day that I wake up smiling is a testimony and remembrance of the love I received from my mom. 

Sympathetic Joy

As I contemplated my Word of Intent at the end of 2017, I knew that I needed to be very deliberate in my choice for 2018. When I began 2017, the meaning that I had placed on my word "adventure" did not prepare me for the true ride, with significant life changes, that the year would bring. When I chose to be intentional with "joy" for 2018, I was inspired by two things. First, The Book of Joy by the Dalai Lama and Archbishop Desmond Tutu. A remarkable journey of friendship and how, in the face of many challenges, both have chose to traverse this life with a focus on joy. Second, I had to find a word that when the intent came back to me in ways that I could not imagine, it would not be experiences that would kick me in the butt! Joy. How could one possibly have too much joy?

So at the beginning of the year, I "joyfully" ordered my Word of Intent bracelet, found meditations, essays and quotes that would inspire me on those days that what was happening TO me did not bring a feeling of happiness. The teachings of the Dalai Lama and Desmond Tutu challenge us that Joy is not a feeling, it is a choice. Of how to respond, interact and live.

"No dark fate determines the future. We do. Each day and each moment, we are able to create and re-create our lives and the very quality of human life on our planet. This is the power we wield.

Lasting happiness cannot be found in pursuit of any goal or achievement. It does not reside in fortune or fame. It resides only in the human mind and heart, and it is here that we hope you will find it." The Book of Joy p. ix

Joyfully confronting the challenges presented each day (ummm, well, you know, working on it), I was working on finding joy in first world problems like a long commute (audio books, sunrise during part of the year), in alone time (instead of being lonely), and work challenges. I wouldn't say "I've got this", but I did feel like it was a great focus and I was using tools I'd gathered to focus on my intent.

That should have been a glaring sign to me. Less than a quarter of the way through the year and my intention felt doable, under control? The Universe doesn't work that way, at least for me! And so at a yoga class last Sunday, with a teacher that brings a more spiritual perspective to the practice, she introduced us to The Third Abode of the Buddha. Not being a Buddhist, I wasn't aware of the four abodes. And still couldn't tell you what are the first, second and fourth abodes. But the third abode, as she began to challenge us, felt personal. Sympathetic joy. I began an internal dialogue immediately, which began with , "Great, I knew it wouldn't be this easy!" to "Oh, I can do this. I'm always happy when my friends experience joy, success, adventures".  This is a great week to practice sympathetic joy, with most of my friends away to places warm to celebrate Spring Break as I continue to work. From Hawaiian honeymoon to Gulf Coast beach vacations, Mexico to the Florida Keys, I can choose to focus on what I'm not experiencing, or find joy in the pictures, message and experiences my friends are enjoying. But this just feels like a continuation of joy as a choice. It isn't difficult for me to be sincerely happy for those I love to find love and joy in experience and relationships. If it's this easy, I'm missing something.

I returned to The Book of Joy, and did a bit of reading on Sympathetic Joy, finding two ways to apply this to my intent this year. The first can be as simple as sharing the joy of my friends on vacation while I work through the cold Michigan spring and maybe for many this is a starting place. It certainly was to me over the years. This season connected me with a deeper meaning of Sympathetic Joy. This is the weeks of celebration of birthdays and losses for my niece, nephew and the babies we grew to love that are no longer with us. In celebration and remembrance, I remembered a time that I was called upon to express Sympathetic Joy. On the very night that we were preparing for the memorial of my nephew Ronan, we received the call that one of the sweet babies we loved would be receiving a lung transplant. Too late for Ronan, so many what ifs. And yet, never wanting another family to experience the loss and grief that surrounded our family, we rejoiced in the hope of the hour for them. There were questions. There were moments of bitterness. There was an intensity of grief in juxtaposition of the hope now offered to someone else. Joy in their Joy. In spite of our own grief and loss. Honestly, there were moments. And they became easier, and more meaningful, after the first initial weekend of misplaced timing. Heartstrings are powerful, and living in another's hope can bring its own joy.

I am grateful that this moment of Sympathetic Joy stands so clearly in my memory. For it is a difficult one. One that I'm hopeful that I rarely experience, but one that serves as an example of the tendency to do work that is surface instead of risking the intensity that is required for real work, that moves us toward gratitude and mindfulness that is not situational, to continue on this journey to becoming all that we are meant to be.

Today I'm grateful for a life that brings me peace, for friends who make it easy to feel Sympathetic Joy, and for the lessons that are continually presented to me on my journey.

Lessons From Goals Not Met

Reflection on the Old Before Ringing in the New

I've never been one for resolutions, at the start of a year or any time, but several years ago as part of living more intentionally in gratitude I found the idea of setting goals for the year a productive way of narrowing my focus. Education as a profession includes goal setting to measure achievement, so I have found myself, at times, focusing on the competition of completing the goals instead of the intention of the goal, the tendency to place emphasis on achievement over growth. This year, having not reached two of the goals that I thought were very in reach, well three if you count a failed marriage, I've spent my time reflecting on why the goals weren't achieved instead of ruminating on the failure. Perhaps I should have been a bit more cognizant of choosing "adventure" as my one word for 2017. I experienced a bit more "adventure" than I had envisioned!

Goal #1: Number of books read. I've set my goal at 75 for the past three years and always go well above this number. I am a prolific reader, and even as I transitioned out of being a school librarian, I read every day. It is my end of the day ritual, even if I've found no time the rest of the day. This year, I only read 50 books. I know that many people look at that at as an accomplishment, but again, this is a goal not met. A goal previously met. And in fairness, if I allowed myself to count my chick lit, I would more than meet the 75 book goal. But I don't. Or at least, never have. So that is also a reflection, why I choose to not count some material. And the answer to that makes me comfortable with my choice. While I share much of my life on social media, including GoodReads for reading and a Facebook Reading Challenge book, I know some of the books I read would make those I'm connected to uncomfortable. And, as an educator, when I began sharing my reading practice on Social Media I was still a school librarian. How much of me am I willing to have as an "open book" (pun intended)? This was reinforced recently when I attended a presentation on human trafficking, horrific reality in my own little corner of the world, as well as world-wide. Great information was shared, and a sense of shared responsibility for recognizing the vulnerable. However, when the faith-based organization representative concluded that much of the problem is "50 Shades of Grey" readers and movie goers, who normalize abuse (her words), she lost me. She hasn't read the stories. Not that I want her to read them. And am totally ok with people being offended and concerned by the subject matter. But, in all its non-literary value, the books do NOT glorify abuse. And I was glad she couldn't go to my GoodReads account and see that I have read the series.

Favorite book read of 2017

Goal #2: Number of miles trailed. This was going to be the year. The year I laughed at a measly 1200 miles and left it in my dust. I loftily set the goal of 1500 miles, determined that every day miles, as well as my focus on adventuring to trails near and far, would definitely hit 1500. Come September, it was apparent that I would not meet that goal, so adjusted it to 1300. I finished at 1292.7.

Peace and joy in the beauty of nature

An important aspect of reflection is to not allow it to be about excuses, but a consideration of all aspects, including were the goals appropriate in the first place. If I had the gift of clairvoyance, and was able to see when setting these goals what "adventure" in 2017 would like..... Who am I kidding. I would have set the unrealistic goals anyway. Which means I have to look at finding the balance in goal setting between appropriate level of challenge in a realistically achievable measure. And the reality is I've had significant life changes in 2017.

First, a new job. The search for which was not a desire on my part for a change, but the reality of my eliminated position. It is a bit stressful, even with reassurance of placement, to be in limbo for almost two months. The resulting change in districts is a great fit, with new challenges, title and compensation. But it comes with a year-round schedule (I know, you non-educators are rolling your eyes) and a 45 minute minimum one-way commute. Those time realities significantly impacted my ability to meet reading and trail mile goals. But the rewards! Grateful every day for this opportunity to work with amazing educators, moving forward in transformative practice, to provide students with life skills and content knowledge.

Chasing waterfalls in Iceland

Second, the empty nest. When the only little egg in your basket (it's tough being an only child!) is ready to begin semi-adulting, the emotions run between "thank God he's ready" and "oh dear Lord, he's really leaving me for good". I have enjoyed the process of watching my son mature into a young man learning to make his way in this world, but man, the space that is left empty seems so much bigger than his 6'2" frame would suggest. Top this with the dissolution of a long marriage, and suddenly I am living alone for the first time in, well, ever. There are moments that it is peaceful and glorious. There are moments that are filled with the stark reality of aloneness.

While the life changes experience during my year of "adventure" certainly contributed to goals not being met, more important in my reflection over the past several days has been what I did experience as a result of not meeting those goals. And that is where I find my gratitude. The truth is that with increased obligations of time that is not flexible, the goals of reading books and completing trail miles is in itself competitive. I don't like to listen to music, podcasts or audio books on the trail. I want to hear the water, the leaves, the wind, the birds. And so when I'm trailing, I can't be reading. And when I'm reading I can't be trailing. And the truth is that I NEED trails, in woods, near water. It is my therapy, my medicine, the way I maintain balance, clarity and do my best thinking. And so it is with choices. I chose vacations that did not allow me to trail significant miles, but the adventure and experiences far outweighed the lack of miles.

 

As I closed the year, I had the opportunity to make choices, especially in completing the adjusted mileage goal. I could have done it. But what would I have missed? Time. Time with ones I love, opportunities that are not of the every day. Mile stone birthdays, parties, surprise weddings, and even time spent waiting for adventures that did not happen. All connected me with those I love, with memories that will last a lifetime and bond me in new ways. All in all, goals not met is not necessarily a bad thing.

Cheers to besties

Today I'm grateful for:

• "Besties" from childhood. Neither time nor geographical space has separated us. Especially as we move into the time of middle age, the deep rooted connections, love and acceptance are a life string.
• Living in a time when being a single, adult woman is not a sentence of poverty and social scorn. My best life will be what I create.
• Cold gear. Long live wool!

Old Becomes New

Determining that my focus for 2017 would be #adventure has me viewing experiences differently. The saying is cliche, but life truly is an adventure. I find myself being more present, in tune with the immediacy of the experience in front of me as it unfolds. This shift has me reflecting as I trail with my nephew, who at 2 and a half is ready to march along under his own power instead of being packed. The delight of deep snow to trudge through, learning about trail markers to guide our way, and the exclamations of joy with each new animal track that crosses the path. I find peace and joy outside on a trail, but experiencing it as if first time all over again with my nephew Simon brings a smile to my face. Was the therapy the trail, or the reminder of seeing the extraordinary in what has become a standard past time?

Tonight I'm grateful for moments of presence, with those that I love. Especially the one delivered by a rainbow.

One Word

The process of living simply has now extended to New Year's Resolutions! Gone is the weight loss, eat healthy, hit the gym focus of January (which didn't seem to work for most people anyway). Instead, the movement is to focus on a theme that will carry you through the year. In one word. The movement has spawned books and blog posts, online communities and a hashtag (For my Twitter buffs #oneword2017).

For the past two years I've focused on goals for the year instead of traditional resolutions. Trail miles, reading challenges, and travel dominated the goals. And most were fulfilled. But it still was an exercise that seemed to lose focus as the year progressed. Perhaps this is another area where simplifying will lead to more gratitude and abundance. With that thought it mind, on to choosing my "One Word".

The problem with choosing "One Word" is that I'm a shades of gray person. Narrowing down to just one choice is an exercise that leaves me waffling and uncomfortable. So after much deliberation, my choice is a word that encompasses enough to provide me flexibility and choice, while still focusing my year. Adventure.

Adventure may seem a poor choice for someone who works in a cubicle in the midwest. But adventure it is. When I think of adventure, it not only represents experiences beyond the ordinary, but an approach to my every day. By definition, the word implies an "unusual and exciting activity or experience", but also can mean "exploration of unknown territory". And the last part is where I expect most of my adventures will be. Every day I am challenged at work and home to participate fully in what unfolds. What keeps me energized and engaged in my work is the unknown that occurs every day. My intention is that by regarding these unknown challenges and opportunities as adventures, the focus will be on what I can learn, what is required of me to navigate the challenge and not the stress that often accompanies daily challenges.

But also, hopefully there will be adventures of the extraordinary kind. Experienced with people I adore, embracing challenges and the awesomeness of nature.

My gratitude as I start 2017 is for a job that I love, in a career of my passion, that connects me to amazing people. Looking forward to the every day adventure of education.

What's your "One Word" for 2017?

To Phoebe - on the 6th anniversary of your birth

I Wish That There Were Cupcakes

On this day which should be filled with joy and celebration.

I Wish That There Was A New Book, 

carefully chosen, inscribed with your name,

to be read together as we snuggle on the couch,
looking at the lake and the birds on the feeder.

I Wish That There Was Joy, 

swelling in my sister's heart

as she watches you, your stubborn spirit a mirror of her own

Instead of the hole that is alternately

Weeping 

and Plugged

with the grief that is known only to a mother who has lost her child.

I Wish That There Were Adventures

on a trail, singing in the car, playing pretend in the most girly of ways.

For you,

you my niece, were to be the daughter of my heart,

the Universe knowing I would be a better mother to a boy,

but that I would make a great aunt ~

our hearts entwined in much the same way as your mother and my son.

I Wish That The Birds That Return in the Spring

meant walks next door, 

to watch the mother phoebe return again 

and build her nest

and raise her young.

You, delighting as she twitters from limb to nest, 

smiling at this bird who shares your name.

I wish that the return of the phoebes every year was not yet another bittersweet sign,

a token of remembrance, 

that simultaneously brings a smile and a tear.

I Wish That There was a Swing

on which I pushed you higher and higher,

instead of a remembrance tree ~

the Mighty Oak standing proud and tall in the middle of the field,

representing the strength of the mighty spirits of the babies that have been lost.

#Jenna

#Phoebe

#Oakes

#Elizabeth

#Noah

#Ronan

Names and stories that have knit together lives and families

with the Heartstrings of shared grief.

I Wish That the Painting Hanging Outside Your Hospital Room

~a back shot of a blonde toddler playing at the beach;

An image I 

ARGUED

and BARGAINED

and RAILED 

at God to be an indication of future experience

An image, posted on 

InstaGram and

Twitter and 

Facebook

tagged #adventureswithPhoebe

instead of one more example of what will never be.

I Wish That Now, When Someone Asks Me to Pray,

that I could do so with a pure heart

that BELEIVED

that HOPED

that experienced answers of the miraculous kind,

instead of Silence, Reality and Loss.

I Wish That There Were Cupcakes

that weren't made of Angel Food Cake.