Turn of the Tides

I had my heart opened up.

Just enough to let the light in.

He didn’t try to do it. He didn’t do anything but smile, dance, and then hold me sweetly. My body remembered the sweet grace of a warm embrace, the mutual sigh of contentment, if only for that one shared moment.

And right on the heels of the night, Doubt came galumphing along. Doubt is an insidious character, the elephant that never forgets an infraction by anyone (real or imagined).

Doubt lacks compassion. Doubt assumes the worst. It’s a real downer.

And Yearning also popped in for a visit, which only made Doubt more insidious.

Tired of the chatter and confliction, I went for a walk in the park, something I had not done for much too long.

Walking along the creek, something softened in me. That sound, that rushing, undulating current of water always softens my edges, washes away my crusty armor, and leaves me naked, ripe for the taking, if only I allow it time to work its magic.

The water surged, welling up in my eyes, across my forehead, and deep into the belly.

“What on earth am I sad about?”

And at that moment, it was clear. I was mourning the loss of Nature in my life, of MY nature…..the familiar turn of the tides in me that I have turned from in an effort to be strong, to leave the painful past behind, to turn my intention to the future, toward stability and growth.

I have made it so I don’t have time for my dear friend and confidante. I shunned her because she washes away my armor, she opens up my soul and leaves me naked, bared to anyone who can See.

It’s scary being vulnerable, being true and open and honest. It’s scary opening up after a heinous divorce and then being let down yet again.

It’s scary to trust myself, knowing I have let mySelf down so many times.

My friend, no matter how long I neglect her, is there, reminding me to remain sensitive, to trust in the evolution of process. She is there in my orchids that took 18 months to bloom, and Oh! How they bloomed! And she is in my herbs, and drooping plants, and bright plants, and in everything that grows and dies in my life.

And she spoke to me at the park.

“Stop, and listen. Hear the creek, the rhythm, let it beat upon your back. Let the air rush through your lungs. You are alive as you can be. Isn’t it glorious?!”

And she showed me her treasures….tiny flowers nestled in the knot of a tree, nature’s flowerpot, mini worlds of fungi, lichen and moss, solo flowers standing proud, and then a tall, smooth tree that beckoned me with it’s quiet, unassuming strength.

And I laid my face upon its smooth skin and let my tears fall, and it held me.

No judgement, no expectations, no words of advice. It just held me, supported me and welcomed my tears. And I wrapped my arm around the trunk, so thankful for the unconditional and ever-present love, support and acceptance of my dear friend.

“It’s been too long, my friend, too long.”


A Year To Clear, Day 25

Ok, it’s actually day 54 or something, but I haven’t been doing my daily “drip” of information. I could beat myself up about it, but I am not. That’s not what it’s about.

If you are already lost, I am doing A Year To Clear by Stephanie Bennett Vogt, an online program that gives daily tidbits, thoughts, videos, etc on clearing stuck energy in your life, typically in the way of clutter.

Today was a video talking about the sh*t that comes up when we try and clear clutter. It doesn’t always feel good.

I love when Stephanie said, ‘It’s not about getting it done. It’s about getting it!’

She talked about taking a clothing item that we haven’t worn for whatever reason but still hold onto, and just holding it in your lap for one minute. With compassionate awareness, notice what sensations and thoughts come up.

Well, the first thing that came up for me was that I was resistant to doing this, to meditation. Evidently, a lot of stuff from my divorce has not been processed, and I am not really interested in processing it. Yet, I keep getting signs from the universe to go there.

Next, I thought about time, and I had this dread of adding a task to my day. So, I thought to my closet upstairs and pictured a yellow, Indian style flowing dress that I have had for many years and never wore. Immediately, it was clear to me that this yellow dress represented a side of me I was afraid of losing.


I realized in that instant that I was afraid of getting rid of the dress because that would mean losing that flowing, feminine, gypsy side of me, that free-loving wild soul from San Francisco that I so miss and adore.

Of course, that’s absurd, but we make these odd connections to our STUFF. Evidently, in order to be able to clear the stuck energy around this dress, I need to first be aware of this relationship, and then I need to allow myself to be that free-spirited gypsy girl more often. yellow dress

Compassionate Awareness leads to Unstuckness.

Amazing how all these years, I go through my closet to see what to get rid of, and in the TASK and DOING, I never made the energetic connection to why I was actually holding on to it. And the best thing about this exercise, is I never even had to go upstairs and into my closet. It helps, but an energetic connection does not need physical connection.

I would love to hear if you try this, and what happens for you. If you are interested in the online course, go HERE.


I am not what I was

I love how clarity just happens, often when we aren’t seeking it. I was sitting on the couch the other day, pondering the concept of being triggered. It has become more and more evident how our triggers can either block us from living life or lead us to greater clarity and self-compassion.

And it dawned on me. I am not a wounded person. I am whole.

Suddenly, I had flashbacks to so many times I reacted based on a story in my mind, how as proud of being independent and positive I was, I still put myself in the victim role with stories of being wounded. Those stories suddenly didn’t matter. They were just….stories. At that moment, I didn’t identify with them. What happened next was a big, full, ecstatic and life-affirming inhale as my chest softened and let life in.

Does not being wounded mean we don’t get triggered? Hell no! What it means, for me, is that I have another chance to undo a negative pattern and redirect it through truth seeking and self love. I can get triggered, but not identify myself with the stories that caused the patterns.

I am not what I was.

I am.


Feathers bleeding rainbows

I’m tired of thinking.


“Is that true?”

Questioning my thoughts, constantly. Questioning myself, constantly.

Do I really want to do that? Or am I motivated by ….God forbid…Weakness?

I hear myself talk to people and feel I am dominating the conversation. Something in me believes that I am selfish, self-centered. I guess I am afraid of being perceived as so,…to be honest. My parents used to tell me I was selfish. They told a boyfriend of mine I was selfish. Stories.

It all happened then, so why should it matter?


Round and round the chicken coop we go. Feathers flying, words bouncing around and hitting the heart, emotions everywhere. Feathers bleeding rainbow…

I cry easily. I am emotional. I am rational. I think a LOT. I want connection with others….bad. I find myself wishing someone would reach out to me. I have reached out to so many, but things don’t come to fruition often. And when I really think about it, am I seeking connection with others or to disconnect from myself? From the mental chatter, the disorienting constant shift in thoughts? The internal drive to do, and the struggle with not wanting to do anything….

My, how shifty is the feeling of “rightness”, the feeling of wholeness and content. My, how the mind likes to drive me. It takes so much time, it seems, to be quiet with these thoughts, to let them play out until I reach the truth. Perhaps meditation is good for that… a focused exercise in being quiet and still. YET, for me, so much clarity has come from letting my mind chatter and watching it, following it’s thought patterns.

Feathers bleeding rainbows…I like how that sounds.

Dancing again

It’s been years, and I had forgotten that all pervasive internal movement, the constant inner dialogue of dance.

Driving away, I find myself going through each movement, breaking it down into all its parts. I had forgotten how dance connects me to myself, how it reminds me of the interconnectedness of every little part of me, and how every little part of me connects to all that is around me.

Yes, how the smallest intentional movement can translate through your body and out into something big and beautiful, or something so small and profound. The dance inside mirrored out there, out in the world.

The unfurling of the soul.dancer swirl

I had forgotten how movement out there brings me closer to the movement in here, in my heart, in my very own body that remembers so much. The fascination of movement, and of slowing everything down to its infinitesimal purity, only to speed it back up again. And the test is to remain so in tune with the transitions that time stays slow, so that you can move like lightning.

That’s when life makes sense, when nothing else exists but the movement within and without, when my inner merges with the outer, I am space, I am flow, I am alive.


Co(s)mical life


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