Sometimes You Just Have to Deal

I have arrived at my destination.

And there is no internet connection so I'm probably going to have to go to a cafe to write this week. I'm using my portable keyboard, a gift from my son, and my cell phone to write this evening. It's interesting. And I'm laughing as I'm writing, and trying to remember that the important thing is that I show up for myself and this writing every day.

The letters on the screen are about the size of a pin head.

And I'm still laughing.

Sometimes you just have to deal.

The Summer of Self Love is a daily writing practice, created as a container for harnessing three months for thriving. The goal at the end is to host a dinner party. Sounds like an odd Hero's Journey, doesn't it? Most of them usually are.

In Under the Wire

I'm getting ready for some time away.

I cleared the day to clear some space to clear some time to clear my mind. I knew the week was going to be all about the detox. Today I slowly cleared away all the things that are holding me to this place. Final bits of work commitments and setting an away message on the email. The things in my inbox - bills that need to be paid, requests for donations, and writing my rent check. The food in my fridge and the trash in the kitchen bin. Stuff on the floor and the shoes by the door. Some piles in my kitchen. All kinds of things on a check list I made a couple of days ago. And my schedule. I cleared that so I could have some spaciousness to gather my thoughts before I go. 

Yes, gathering was the next task. Gathering up everything that I need to comb through the print proof of my poetry book. That's my priority while I'm away. Gathering together everything that needs to go to the post office. Water for the plants. Gathering together clothes and other necessities for the trip. Gathering my thoughts and intentions. 

It feels like a day that I've been neither home nor away.

A bridge. 

A transition.

Something I hold gently so that I can move into the next thing well.

I work with others to help them move through transition well. I still am often stymied by my own transitions. I often feel like I simply do the best I can do to get from one place to the next. And, regardless of how well I plan, I don't always follow the plan to the letter. Or at all. More than anything else, I like to leave a bit of spaciousness so that I can feel into expansiveness rather than contraction. Anxiety contracts us and transitions bring anxiety. 

It's the unknown. Takes us out of our comfort zone.

I'm thinking about a meme that's become something of a visual mantra for me. On a page, someone drew a large circle and on the inside wrote, "Your Comfort Zone."  In a tiny circle on the other side of the page in the lower corner, a tiny circle. And within, "Where the Magic Happens."

I like to think of that every time I'm challenged to step out of my comfort zone.

I could use a little magic.

I began writing late at night tonight. It's the last thing I need to clear for today, also the last thing I need to gather - thoughts for creating today's writing. I'm getting it in just under the wire. The moon is shining brightly in the sky, just beginning to show the tiniest bit of her waning from fullness.

The sun will rise tomorrow and I'll carry some things out to the car and be on my way. 

The Summer of Self-Love is a daily writing practice birthed on June 1, 2018 as a container to harness three months for thriving. The goal at the end is to host a dinner party. Sounds like and odd Hero's Journey, doesn't it? Most of them usually are.

  

Creating Space

I'm getting ready to go out of town for a week for a work trip.

It's one of those work trips that has the feel of a vacation. I'm trying to do more of that with my life - creating a life that I don't need to take a vacation from. So far, I've been able to create some work that shares some of the features we normally associate with vacation. And because I have a day job that enables me to have a bit of stable income, and because I've shaped my life and my expenses so that I am living frugally, I am able to do this gently, learning as I go. I really don't have to worry about how much money I'm making from it, so I have the freedom simply to be creative.

I hadn't actually intended to write about that, but it does fit in with what I'd like to open up today. And so I want to head back to getting ready for the trip.

You'd think I was leaving for a year. 

I didn't do this and I haven't done that and I haven't had time to do the other things I wanted to do before I go away so I can leave well. The truth is, before I go away, there's so much I need to do to be able to get away, especially for said day job, sometimes I wonder if it is worth it. 

It is.

It enables me to create space for myself. Space to be creative.

I'm not talking about simply making art or poetry or other writing. I'm talking about a whole-life kind of creativity. The kind of creativity that lets you unmake and remake an entire life. That's actually what my life has been about for the last six years - unmaking and remaking my life, so I'm taking the task and running with it. Expanding it. Making it bigger. Broader. Deeper. Wider.

Divorce, then, becomes an opportunity as well as a death. An opportunity to die and rise again. An opportunity to dismember and remember yourself. An opportunity for unmaking and remaking. But you have to create the space for all of that to happen.

It's a total life detox. A clearing. A burning away. A sifting through. 

And probably so much more that I'm not able to touch right now in the moments I take to give to this writing. 

But all of that will come.

I'm creating space for it.

It's fascinating to look at how this writing practice works. I open a blank page and its emptiness and spaciousness look back at me, daring me to begin. And so I do. With one sentence. One idea. One step forward. That one sentence, idea, step, takes me deeper, farther along and begins to open up a different kind of space, a space within me that longs to be explored. That longs to be brought out. And begins to tell a story.

The story illuminates a life. One that is being unmade and remade simultaneously. 

The page is unending. I could write forever on this screen and it would not run out. It is a never-ending resource, limited only by limits I place on myself and my own creativity. I usually curate my ideas and how much space I give to them, but I could go on and on and on if I wanted to. 

And just knowing that is magic.

I'm laughing as I'm writing because I often take myself to unexpected places with this writing. Just showing up every day and choosing to be present, to be courageous in the face of the blank page, to be willing to leap empty-handed into the void of the endless screen, all of it is creating space for, for, for what?

I do not know. But my container is open.

The Summer of Self-Love is a daily writing practice birthed on June 1, 2018 as a container for harnessing three months for thriving. The goal at the end is to host a dinner party. Sounds like an odd Hero's Journey, doesn't it? Most of them usually are.  

Art:  Full Moon Rising  (c) 2015 Katherine Cartwright

              Photo from the Anza-Borrego Badlands, Anza-Borrego Desert Park, CA, Full Moon reflected on the Salton Sea. 

       

       

  

That Day When You Cannot Think of a Title

The problem with writing in the morning is the occasional bad night's sleep.

I'm feeling a little grouchy right now, even after my morning journaling time. I've not engaged my spiritual practice, but I'm feeling a little time-pressured. It's Wednesday and my long day at work. I won't get back tonight until after 9 pm, and if I try to write then I'll be up very late into the night and wake up again tired and a little grouchy. It's not a circle I would like to create. 

If you want to write every day, there may be some days you might not be feeling your best while writing. And if you're writing about your own process, then that means being a little vulnerable before the eyes of others. 

It might also mean that your words don't flow as easily as they usually do. 

The image I have of that is walking down a stony path and not quite getting a good footing. Tripping a little, or a lot, every now and then. It might be hard to find your stride. 

It's hard for me right now, but I'm taking Natalie Goldberg's words to heart and writing beyond the blocks. Those are my words, actually, distilled from her teaching. 

In two and a half weeks I'll be heading to New York, to the mountains, not the city, for a writing workshop. I love the title of it. Writing the Unthinkable. Sometimes I think that if you offer a workshop that has a fabulous name, the title does most of your marketing for you. I'm not sure I remember the workshop description or what, exactly, we'll be doing there, but that title! In a month or so, I may be sharing a few wonderful integrated nuggets of gold from Linda Barry.

The thought of heading to the mountains is what is alive for me this morning. 

I need a break. I'm working with a church right now that has some significant challenges and they were promised an abbreviated process. That's a lot of pressure and stress, and I am usually the one who carries that because I create the container for the work. Setting regular times away is so important. To clear my mind. To re-engage more healthy life practices. To take time for deep rest and spaciousness. To find my joy again after dusting off layers of setting myself aside to attend to others. 

I notice that before I go away for these times apart from my usual doing to attend to my being, that my stress levels increase and I need to engage more radical self-care. That's why I'm cutting sugar and carb-heavy foods. I feel better when I'm not eating those things and when I'm making room for more protein, greens, and colorful veggies. I'm off fruit now too, which may sound counterintuitive, but they also are high in sugars, and I need to retrain my taste buds to enjoy the subtler flavors while I'm retraining my body to operate without so much sugar and the overdrive that it brings to my system. 

I'm working the stress relief on multiple levels. 

I want to detox my body a bit before detoxing my thoughts, feelings, schedule, and everything else that is out of balance right now. I have a teacher who likes to think of it as a reset. And part of resetting is the detox. Release and fill up. She recommends filling up with delicious, nutritious food and joy-bearing activities. 

I'm laughing a little as I'm writing this because the other day I went in search of some fun activities that I thought might bring joy and some light social connection, and everything was scheduled on the days I work most intensively, Sunday and Wednesday. Today while I'm writing, Facebook is popping in to my writing (When did they start being able to do that?) with notifications for fun things I said I was interested in. 

Tomorrow is Thursday, the day I dedicate to joy. It's my reset day in the week where I attend to myself and to the things that are alive for me. To the things that I feel are emerging as new interests and new landscapes to explore. To work I would like to develop. To writing I'd like to begin or continue or ship. Often I go to the farmers' market to enjoy the stalls with all their color, texture, and variety, and to buy what might be nourishing. From fresh flowers to fresh produce to artisanal items like olive oil, cheese, chocolate, Indian-cuisine sauces, pastured and local meat and poultry. There's usually live music, sometimes an outdoor yoga class. And so much more. 

The vibe is as nourishing as the food that is on offer.

While working in my morning journal today, I noticed some intrusive thoughts coming in that needed to be turned around. As I was noting them, I could hear the sound of a jackhammer down the block. Tearing up someone's driveway apron. The connector between their house and the street. It's such an interesting correspondence. 

Our thoughts connect us to all of life, around and within us. To be able to clear them and to fill up with more healthy and life-giving thoughts and emotions has the potential to change the way we enter the world around us and the way we return home to ourselves.  




The Summer of Self-Love is a daily writing practice birthed June 1, 2018 as a container for harnessing three months for thriving. The goal at the end is to host a dinner party. Sounds like an odd Hero's Journey, doesn't it? Most of them usually are.

All About the Detox

As I'm writing this morning, there's a jackhammer's urgent sounding on the sidewalk below my window.

I knew this week was going to be all about the detox. 

I'd like it to be a gentler breaking up and away of what is no longer needed or useful. But I also like the idea of getting the job done quickly once I identify what needs to go. Of course, the choice is mine. 

And perhaps the jackhammer is here to remind me of that.

Still, I love to write with the sound of birdsong and the sight of the wide-open sky out my window. Today, though, I have neither because the sun is blistering and the shades are down and because of, well, the jackhammer. 

So we work with what is. 

The first thing I notice is it is hard to think with the jackhammer banging away. The actual sound of the noise it makes feels like it fills all the spaces in the air, and in my brain space. How do I find room for anything else? 

It's also distracting, and that's not exactly the same thing as the sound of the noise filling every open space. The stops and starts make it hard to get used to the rhythm and to discern a pattern.

I'm wondering if there is some wisdom here for someone who is in the process of identifying what needs to go and then working to get rid of it. 

But what is most noticeable is that I cannot think with that racket going on. I'm actually noticing that I am starting to feel angry, and since I don't relish the idea of giving something or someone else the power to create that in me, I'm going to save this and set it aside, come back to it later when the jackhammer leaves for the day or for a break. I'll grab a shower and hopefully escape the sound there. 

It's good to know when you've reached your limit. And to move on to something more productive or life-giving. 

And...it's stopped. 

Almost the second I surrendered and gave up my resistance, the noise stopped. If it's like the pattern from the other day when they were here, they're taking a break and will start up again at some point. In the meantime, I can continue writing and noticing what's going on with me as I work with this interesting life teacher.

The first thing I notice after the noise stops is the rate of my heartbeat and pulse. Both are higher than normal, and I've got that strange buzzing inside that tells me adrenaline is flowing a bit. Quieting myself, I close my eyes and notice my breathing. I stop typing for a moment to tend to myself. 

I use a centering practice that involves breath, sound, and vibration. And when I'm done, I feel ready to return to my writing. But the jackhammer operator also returns, simultaneously with the first taps of my fingers on the keyboard.

Without a second thought, I am up and headed to the shower. A long, luxurious shower. 

I return late in the afternoon, just before evening. I've been out to meet a colleague for a long lunch and great conversation. I stopped at the store to buy some yummy food to support my focus on good nutrition. Things like baby kale and avocados, salmon, shrimp, and chicken. Some nice cheeses to punctuate what I'm eating. Normally I get rid of dairy too, but for the two weeks I'm cutting sugar and carb-heavy foods, I allow myself just a bit of cheese. It feels rich and salty and decadent. Ah, there are bell peppers, tomatoes, and asparagus also. A baby fennel bulb. Some Gerolsteiner mineral water to add to my La Croix collection. And my favorite shampoo has come in - I've been waiting for that to come in for two months. I feel so grateful for that timing. I'm going to make a sheet-pan shrimp fajita dish I found on the Internet the other day. It takes only 20 minutes and looks delicious. 

I wish I had thought to pick up some large lettuce leaves. 

I stopped at one of my favorite shops and bought some tops. I know. I know. I'm supposed to be decluttering my closet. Well, I want to have a few more nice items to wear. I figure I'll motivate myself with a carrot rather than a stick. And everything was on sale. I'm often lucky like that. Stopping in when the big sale is going on. 

The first thing I notice when I get back is the workmen have gone and the street is quiet. There are stakes and tape around the area that's been cleared out. They're not going to pour the replacement concrete today. I have no idea when they plan to do it, but I feel like there are some great teachings around letting something rest after a bit of clearing before filling up the empty space. 

And setting some boundaries around that cleared space so it can maintain its integrity.

I'm not sure where I was planning to go with this when I began this morning. Whatever that writing was, went the way of the peace of the day with jackhammers going on and on for a couple of hours. And I was not able to recapture it.

Perhaps the power of this writing today was having the opportunity to discover something about my own limits and my ability to respect my boundaries in the face of overwhelming outside circumstances, all of which offered me a mirror into my inner world. I needed to see both ends of the work. The disruption of the clearing, as well as setting a boundary around the cleared space and the eventual peace of the quiet street. All of it works together to bring a powerful teaching in a week where it's all about the detox.

The shades are up in my kitchen and the verdant green trees are framing a lovely blue sky with clouds. Birds are flying across the field of my vision. 

And there's not a power tool in earshot. 

The Summer of Self-Love is a daily writing practice birthed June 1, 2018 as a container for harnessing three months for thriving. The goal at the end is to host a dinner party. Sounds like an odd Hero's Journey, doesn't it? Most of them usually are.

Monday, Monday

I can't say for sure yet, but I think this week is going to be about detoxing.

I woke up this morning able to do what I could not do last Monday morning, which was to cut sugar and gluten from my diet. Lunch was a salad with chicken sausage, the kind that is Whole 30 compliant, and dinner will be haddock with asparagus fresh from the field and more salad. I just had a snack of smoked trout and an arugula salad with a few shaves of a good Parmigiano Reggiano cheese. I dressed it with a good Extra Virgin olive oil, fig balsamic vinegar, and Dijon mustard whisked together with a fork. I had some tea this morning and some La Croix water this afternoon. I usually buy myself some of that to feel like I'm having a treat when my usual treats are verboten. I've got beef bones in the crock pot to make some broth and, come to think of it, I had some broth this morning before I had my tea. I keep it frozen in cubes for just such occasions. It makes for a great sipping breakfast. Broth is also delicious and comforting.

The detoxing started almost immediately, as if it was the decision and not the action that was important. I'm feeling flat in the affect and low energy. I'm being gentle with myself and not pushing too hard. I've been doing some reading. Some light tasks. Talked to a good friend. 

But to tell the truth, I don't feel much like doing anything.

My dreams are crazy and I'm having mad insights. Strange happenings abound.

Things like looking in my closet, where there is lots to choose from but nothing to wear, and experiencing deep insights that suddenly come unbidden. Things like the realization that I've bought most of my clothes for a woman who does not exist.

And down the rabbit hole we go. 

So it usually goes something like this. I find something I like and want to buy, but I want a different body to wear it, one that is at least one size smaller. So I buy the item one size smaller, especially if it's expensive, and tell myself that I'll get to wear it when I've lost the weight. 

I have a lot of clothes in my closet that would fit me if I would lose one size. 

That's simple enough. Lose one size. It's sounds really stupid when I write it out like this, but when it's knocking around my head it takes on a different kind of power. The kind of power that is fueled by self talk which is not always so kind and by other voices throughout my life that always seemed to express how disappointed they were with me.

Yeesh. The things we say to people. 

And the things they say to us.

The tragedy here, though, is that every time I do this I am telling myself that there is something wrong with me just as I am. 

Remember that wonderful line in Bridget Jones' Diary, when Mark Darcy tells her that he likes her just as she is?  Everyone loves that moment so much because we don't usually hear it in real life. 

That we are lovable just as we are.

It's about at this point that I feel like I want to jump up and run as far from this writing as I can get. 

But I think I'll stay.

A noteworthy time I bought a wardrobe for a woman who doesn't exist was when I first separated from my husband. I called them my "divorce clothes" because they were going to be the clothes I would wear when I started my new life. If you have to get divorced, at least you should make yourself over in the process, I reasoned. And, actually, that is true. 

I bought some great tops and a little black dress, or at least my version of it, an off-white suede jacket with a faux bobcat lining, some drop dead sand colored suede ankle boots that are the sexiest shoes I've ever worn, a pair of bronze sparkly pumps, and a pair of red patent leather pumps. A black pencil skirt with black leather-like side panels. Some of what I bought was just a little bit too small for me. I had been between sizes at the time and needed to decide what direction I would go. 

I went down, of course. And, actually, it was the right choice.

There were some other items in that wardrobe, and I suppose you could call it a capsule wardrobe because it was about 33 pieces and self-contained, could be put together in a lot of different ways, and made me feel lighter. I actually did get into the clothes and some of them I even wore, but the woman who I dreamed would wear those clothes and do the things I dreamed she would, never really completely materialized because the divorce turned out to be a little more contentious than I thought it would be. 

And it took all my energy just to stay present and to get through it with myself intact.

I look at sections of my closet and think about the memories or hopes or dreams attached to the clothes and realize that sometimes I buy clothes as a kind of vision board. I think about the woman who might wear those clothes and how much I'd like to be her. I think about the life a woman like that might have. The truth of the matter is most of the time I dress very casually, choosing from a handful of items, and right now my favorite piece of clothing is a hat I wear when I tromp around the desert. 

I have a note on my to do list today that says, "Get real about my closet."

And what that means, really, is to get real about the woman who wears the clothes.

Who is she? What does she love? Who has she become since all those life changes initiated six years ago?

What I can't ask myself is where the hell all that time has gone. 

On the hook on the back of my closet door I have a very special jacket. I got it at the Borrego-Springs Outfitter. It was on sale for a ridiculously low price. Felt more like a gift than a purchase. I saw it from across the store when I was there over New Year's in 2017. They had my size. The size I want to be in one day. I was not far from it then, a little farther from it now. But it's definitely doable. It's the perfect jacket for hiking in the desert in winter or for hiking in the mountains at other times. I look at it and my heart leaps. I want to wear it hiking. I can see myself doing that. 

I think instead of using paper and pictures from magazines, I'll make my vision board for this year, what's left of it, from clothes in my closet. Then I'll set a couple of goals and create some action steps to get there. This is actually an interesting idea that captures my imagination.

I think I'll also get rid of a few things. Might take me a while. We'll see. 

For now, I won't force anything. It's the loving thing to do. 

    
The Summer of Self-Love is a daily writing practice birthed June 1, 2018 as a container for harnessing three months for thriving. The goal at the end is to host a dinner party. Sound's like an odd Hero's Journey, doesn't it? Most of them usually are.
  

Simple Dreams Are the Eggs in My Nest

Part of this Summer of Self-Love for me is paring down and simplifying my life.

So, I've been doing some research about how to do that. And I've discovered that simplifying your life is a very complex process. My eyeballs want to fall out while I've been studying how to create a capsule wardrobe. There are entire books written about the subject. And this is just one area of life. I fled Amazon and searched for blog posts. The processes described there are just as frustratingly complex. Too much for me to think about. 

I am trying to simplify.

It feels like the simplest thing to do would be to leave things as they are and ignore what I don't like. Spend all my time away from home, meeting new people and discovering new things. Of course, that's a cop out. And that just will not do.

So I suppose I am going to try my own simplification ideas. Things like deciding what my best life would look like and getting rid of anything that doesn't fit that as I come across those items. Things like taking a small corner of my space and bringing order there. And then doing that again. And again. And again. 

Eventually, won't I end up with what I want?

I don't know the answer to that, but it seems like something to try. So, that's what I'm going to do this week. Ask myself the question, "What does my best life look like?" and "Am I living that best life by doing this, keeping that, eating this, watching that?" And as I think about all this, some of Yoda's words come to me.

Try not. Do.

Another thing comes to me as I think about all this. In December, when I was planning my year to come, a thought emerged. And that was to live my best life. Whatever that means. Of course, only I can decide what that means.

Part of what it means it to get up every morning with that intention.

So. Another experiment and adventure for the week. I set a precedent the last couple of days, after all. 

Wake each day with the intention to live my best life. 

And live intentionally while doing that. 

I'm excited to think about what that might look like. And whether or not I'm going to have buyer's remorse tomorrow morning when I get up and roll my eyes at myself. And considering that the mere mention of self-love a month ago would have had me rolling my eyes, it just might be that I'll be able to get over this too. 

I'm laughing as I'm writing this. Been doing that a lot lately.  

The Summer of Self-Love is a daily writing practice birthed June 1, 2018 as a container for harnessing three months for thriving. The goal at the end is to host a dinner party. Sounds like an odd Hero's Journey, doesn't it? Most of them usually are.

Gifts and Tools and Mornings that Don't Begin the Way You Think They Will

Yesterday's near perfect day morphed into this strange morning.

I went to bed, knowing I'd be writing today with a gift. Literally. An experiment. An adventure.

Maybe I should start with a different beginning.

Yesterday was wrapped completely in gratitude and the day unfolded as if it had been flowing from a magical waterfall. My morning journal writing was a stream of gratitude that flowed right into my blog as if it were a pool for receiving. I headed down into the city to meet my son, who, greeted me with a smile and a gift. A small, portable keyboard that works via Bluetooth with a smartphone.

Last time we saw each other a few weeks ago, I talked to him about my excitement around this daily writing practice and my wondering about how I would do it when I am traveling, if I'd need to take my laptop with me everywhere I go. He popped online and did a few things, told me about tiny Bluetooth keyboards. He also ordered one.

That was my gift.

It's one of the coolest things I've ever seen. It's about eight inches long and an inch and a half wide when it's folded in half. When folded, it is it's own case, but comes in a drawstring bag that also holds the charging cord. It has a fold out stand to hold the phone, which becomes the screen. It looks like a toy computer when it's all set up. The keys are almost full size and the keyboard is a little bit different than usual for things like hyphens, exclamation points, and such. There are function buttons. I'm not sure how they function. It pairs to your phone and enables you to write anywhere. And since I actually write the blog online, I can use it to write for my blog and publish it. As long as I have an Internet connection.

And if it does nothing more than that, it's worth its weight in gold.

The rest of the day? We had brunch at a great little cafe around the corner from his house in Fishtown. I'd give it a shout out, but I can't remember its name. What I remember is the amazing welcome and delicious fare. I'll shout it out another time.

So the welcome.

We sat down at the table where ivory cardboard coasters proclaimed in bold red letters, "Glad you are here."

I don't know if it was the actual coaster or whether it was because I was moving through the day clothed in gratitude, but that felt so good. It gave me cause to pause and to notice something really lovely. I drank my Assam tea with a glad heart and Charlie and I had so much fun talking and eating we almost missed our movie.

Actually, we did miss our movie.

So we saw a different one. And it was probably a lot better than the one we were going to see.

We saw The Incredibles 2. I hadn't seen the first one. Charlie saw it when he was eleven and it was one of his favorite movies as a kid. So there was so much swimming around and below the surface that made for such an exquisitely lovely time together. And punctuating it was an animated short about the love shared between a mother and a son. Tears were rolling down my cheeks one moment and I was laughing uproariously the next.

As Charlie went off to work, he asked me what I was going to do with the rest of my day.

I went home and puttered around the house, decided I would have a writing adventure today by trying out my new keyboard to take it for a test drive before I'm actually out in the wilds somewhere trying to figure out if I can write and post. I made a delicious dinner and talked to my mom. I corresponded with my daughter in Chicago via text. And as I write this, I marvel that this is my life.

I sat down and watched a movie that felt more like a beach read than a film. And I just discovered that I need to be more careful with this than with my usual set up or I will lose my writing.

So. The strange morning.

I haven't been sleeping well lately and I guess my body decided it was going to catch things up today.  I woke up at nearly eleven thirty feeling like I'd just returned from being kidnapped by aliens, or what I imagine that might feel like. I feel like I've lost half the day and like my body does not belong to me. I had strange dreams that I don't want to talk about. But I am writing, and that is beginning to bring me home to myself. When I'm done, I need to figure out what to do to help me to feel like I'm back in my body.

Of this new writing tool, I must say it's close to miraculous. I wish there was a manual, though, because I can't figure out how to type numbers, or some of the punctuation marks that are on the function keys. Yes. Yes. I've tried everything I can think of. Except, of course, going online to try to find a manual there. I'll get to it one of these days. Until then, eleven thirty is typed out because I did not want to type eleven twenty one. No hyphen access either yet.

The next thing I'm going to try is to insert a picture into the text.

Another adventure awaits.

Post script: I've gone back in and added the tag at the bottom for the Summer of Self-Love, corrected the movie title, and corrected some of the spelling I missed the first time because the letters on the screen are so small. I've added a photo. I will eventually be able to do that from my phone, but it requires downloading some kind of app or building up my library of photos in my Google library (attached to my Google profile which I don't really use, except to host this blog.) More adventures in tech await.


The Summer of Self-Love is a daily writing practice birthed June 1, 2018 as a container for harnessing three months for thriving. The goal at the end is to host a dinner party. Sounds like an odd Hero's Journey, doesn't it? Most of them usually are.

I Am Grateful

I'm grateful for the pen on the page. 
I'm grateful for how soft this morning feels.
I'm grateful for the sound of birds singing.


And I'm grateful to be seeing Charlie today, and for cantaloupe and strawberries. And Darjeeling tea.

For the wind moving in the trees. And for the subtle color changes in a grey morning sky - which is not really grey at all, but is a soft, muted blue and white. 

The white changes its tone, depending on the light.

I'm grateful for memories that recall moments of pleasure and bring a smile to my face this early in the morning.

I'm grateful for the sunshine, and for the reminder of its blazing light on my left arm. I'm more than a bit sun kissed there.

I'm grateful for the mess on my kitchen table - it give me something to strive for. 

I'm grateful for the message from a friend this morning, as we look forward to a writing workshop that we didn't know we were taking together. 

I'm grateful for the space to explore the unthinkable and to engage that courageously in my writing.

I'm grateful for the small rose bowl of pansies sitting on my kitchen counter and for the delight I feel to discover that they have fragrance.

Did I know that before?
Did  I mention strawberries?
Did I mention the sun and the moon and the stars?

I'm grateful for the desert and for cactus flowers and for beautiful horses with soulful eyes. I'm grateful to be part of their herd.

Sometimes I like horses more than people.

I'm grateful to be able to fill two pages with the things I am grateful for. And that it was no effort at all to think of them.

I'm grateful for the surprise I received this morning. It was totally unexpected. Duh. Rather the essence of surprise.

I'm grateful for the moments I catch myself being beautifully human.

The Summer of Self-Love is a daily writing practice birthed June 1, 2018 as a container to harness three months for thriving. The goal at the end is to host a dinner party. Sounds like an odd Hero's Journey, doesn't it? Most of them usually are.

Earth and Her Rhythms Are Powerful Teachers

It's the morning of the Summer Solstice and I've ridiculously overscheduled myself today.

The thing is, quite a few of my regularly-scheduled commitments are happening today. A Mastermind Circle on-line meeting at 8 am, a Creativity Workshop I teach every month on the evening of the third Thursday. It's my habit to go to the farmers' market on Thursday mornings also. I think I'm going to give myself permission to skip that today. Makes me sad, though. That's a self-love kinda thing I do for myself.

But the loving thing to do today may actually be saying, "No."

The centerpiece of the day is around a teaching relationship I have. We get together on these days when the rhythms of the Earth deeply support our transformational work. There is something about working with the rhythms and flows that makes our work more powerful - whether those rhythms and flows are related to our connection with the bigger things of which we are a part or whether they are native to our own beings.

The Solstice arrived at 6:07 am with the crossing of the sun into Cancer. All the beginnings of seasons are marked with the sun crossing into the cardinal signs of the Zodiac. Aries, Cancer, Libra, and Capricorn. We move into a cardinal sign (as opposed to fixed or mutable signs) so movement and (because Cancer is a water sign) flow are possible. And not just possible, but deeply desired and supported by the Earth rhythms.

I find myself this morning releasing Gemini's mercurial energies on the breath and feeling the flow of my inner waterways fed by the heart. 

I'm smiling as I'm thinking about that. 

Having awareness around the natural rhythms enables deeper pathways of manifestation. I think of it like an almost mathematical formula:

Awareness + Action = Change

And as I move more deeply into meditating upon that formula, I notice words emerging around the type of action that best leads to the kinds of change we want to see in our lives and in the world around us. 

Action that is inspired and focused and directed.

It's a good day to notice the seeds that are breaking open in us for the next season. It's a good day to notice what is coming to fulfillment or completing, what is blossoming. It's a good day to notice where we have flow and where things are blocked. To meditate on the teachings of rocks in the river and the ways water flows around obstructions, wearing them away over time. Or finding other channels of movement.

Earth and her rhythms are powerful teachers. 

I'm feeling like I might return to this at the end of the day. Something feels unfinished. Or perhaps it is simply this need I find in myself sometimes to say it all. That's folly, of course. But there's something I started with that feels untouched here. 

Perhaps I'll find more clarity as the day unfolds.

The Summer of Self-Love is a daily writing practice birthed June 1, 2018 as a container to harness three months of thriving. The goal at the end is to have a dinner party. Sounds like an odd Hero's Journey, doesn't it. Most of them usually are. 

The Secret Life of Seeds

I spent the evening with children.

The church I work with hosts an evening children's program in April, June, and September. I offered to design and teach the program in June. We are working with the theme of growth and are using three parables that talk about the secret life of seeds. We have everything set up outside on the concrete porch of the church, which is located on a busy corner in a changing neighborhood in Philadelphia. 

We've got as many adults attending as we do kids, and this week we had four teenagers show up. It's mysterious to me how these things happen. You toss something beautiful out there and it takes hold.

Tonight we talked about harvest. I had a big glass bowl of fruit and vegetables in the middle of the table. I had a slender vase of pansies from the church garden there as well. A colleague who dropped in for the evening lifted her eyebrows as I moved from picking flowers and settling them into the vase to calling the kids together to begin. 

Use what you have. Begin where you are.

We start with dinner and then move into the lesson and the activity. The first week we talked about planting. Last week it was growth. This week harvest. The last few weeks we were all about playing in the dirt. We made grass heads in plastic water bottles, first to reuse and upcycle them, and second so we could see what's going on beneath the surface. I brought in sprouting sweet potatoes for them to plant the next week, first because they're cool, and second because I guessed that these kids had never seen anything like that before. 

And I was right. They hadn't. It captured their imaginations. 

The parable that week had been about the mystery of growth. 

Each week, we review the lessons of previous weeks. These kids are smart. They pay attention and absorb every lesson. Then we launch into the new learning. It's always about what happens next. Seed to shoot to bud to flower to fruit to seed. 

Everything begins and ends with the seed.

I never know exactly how things are going to proceed when I work with kids. I have a plan, but pay close attention to what emerges in the moment and allow that to lead. When I started cutting open fruit and veggies and showing the kids what is inside, all of a sudden there were valiant requests to eat the fruits and veggies. They'd spurned the tacos prepared for dinner but went nuts over the fruit and veggies. I started with apples, showed them the star inside, moved into cucumbers and then into cantaloupe. All seed-bearing fruits. I also had potatoes in the bowl, and when I finally pulled one out and asked if they thought we'd find seeds inside when we cut it open, they chorused a resounding, "No!" 

They'd remembered the lessons learned with the sweet potatoes. That the potato itself is the seed. 

So to speak.

And they totally got the lessons around harvest as they giggled while juice ran down their arms, and the sweetness and juiciness of the fruits and the experience of eating them together, around the table, filled them with joy. With harvest comes the feast.

That was to have been next week's lesson. Celebration.

Tonight's plan had been to use different fruits and veggies as painting implements. My lesson had broken open - like the fruits and veggies - and like seeds. I had a gigantic cutting board in front of me, covered in apple, cucumber, and melon seeds, while the kids munched on the fruit, and I found myself cutting designs into potato halves. I'd never done that before.

That became part of the evening's lesson.

Sometimes you have to risk doing something you've never done before in front of a lot of people so that everyone can learn something new. 

We all made awesome works of art with finger paints and potato halves. There were red hearts and triangles, blue squares and Pac Man heads, green leaves and stems, yellow crescent moons and an uncut potato half that you could make into a sun if you added rays with your fingers. And a little yellow circle of potato for Pac Man food. All cut into potato halves by a woman who prayed as she worked that the shapes were recognizable. 

Every child at the table was held in rapt attention the whole time. 

The adults watched with interest. Especially when I said I'd never done it before. People love to watch someone else try something new. 

And I had a ball.

It was a deeply restorative end to a very long day at work. I had also onboarded a new office temp, led a Bible Study for seniors, led a Stewardship meeting around creating a gratitude program for the church to prime the members for the visioning work we'd be doing down the road, completed what felt like a million other tasks in the moments between and beyond.

And I finished writing this a minute before midnight.

The Summer of Self-Love is a daily writing practice birthed June 1, 2018 as a container for harnessing three months for thriving. The goal at the end is to host a dinner party. Sounds like an odd Hero's Journey, doesn't it? Most of them usually are.  

Something in Me Wanted to Stay Close to Home

The day is achingly beautiful.

Blue skies, every kind of gorgeous cloud imaginable, breezes, green everywhere. The roadways are lined with wildflowers. Honeysuckle on the vine, day lilies, and so many others whose names I've somehow failed to learn. Or have forgotten. Delicate blue blossoms, pink, yellow, soft white. Every color imaginable. 

Hawks circle in the skies. 

The day is also achingly hot. 

But this did not bother me at all as I drove through the countryside today. I had the windows open and music playing. I did not have anything scheduled for most of the day. I figured I'd do some tasks around the house. But those were very easy to sacrifice to being out and about .

I was tempted to drive an hour to the coast and walk by the ocean. 

But something in me wanted to stay close to home.

As I sit here writing late at night, my thoughts are interrupted by the desire to close my eyes and sink back into the day. Something I noticed about myself today in all that beauty was the instinct to be deeply present. To notice everything. To connect with the natural world with all my senses. 

It's important to be out in nature. We spend so much of our lives indoors, especially on achingly hot days. We spend so much of our lives connected to technology. Plugged in. It feels good to unplug, to connect to something other than the Internet. To fill our brains with the stimulation offered by the gifts of Earth on an achingly beautiful summer day. To allow something creative to counter the destructive impulses we observe day in and day out as we tune in to news and commentary and outrage and relentless electronic stimulation. 

I carried my desire for beauty and ease into dinner this evening. A simple salad with a simple olive oil and lemon dressing, some wild-caught salmon simply prepared punctuated the day and leaves me filled with a peace I will carry into sleep. 

I expect a long day at work tomorrow. And I'm grateful for having been able to sink into wildness today. 

The Summer of Self-Love is a daily writing practice birthed June 1, 2018 as a container for harnessing three months for thriving. The goal at the end is to host a dinner party. Sounds like an odd Hero's Journey, doesn't it. Most of them usually are.