On a good day, I walk outside and greet the world with a smile and a cautious dose of optimism.
I'm at my best when I have a bouquet of flowers nearby. Instead of hurrying through the day to be things like important and smart and ambitious, flowers invite me to linger. With one breath in, I am saying thank you and with one breath out I awaken to my world brighter and more open. The smell of flowers has always had a powerful effect on me. They are comforting, encouraging; they remind me to be awake, to notice the little things and to let a bee pollinate me every now and then.
Flowers are much like a barometer for how I'm feeling about life.
Perhaps the scariest feeling of all is when I see a bouquet of flowers, and I can't smell or feel a thing. Some days there is no aroma. I can't decipher the difference between red and pink, flower bud or leaf blade. Everything looks right as it should be, but I am not OK. Read More
And for all these things that I used, tried, worn, bought and dated, nothing--absolutely nothing--ever helped me bliss out from the life I lived. There was always one more thing to try, and one more thing to buy and one more person I just hadn't met yet. Read More
Have you ever been in a place you knew you shouldn’t be? I often struggle to identify the difference between where I ought to be and where I truly desire to be. There are plenty of voices in our lives that will tell us—be sensible, be small, be frugal, be considerate of everyone’s feelings except your own. It’s a circular sort of trap that I got caught in, torn between doing what was expected and what was nourishing to me deep down inside. Read More
In Colorado when you want to get from one side of a mountain to another, sometimes you have to drive through it. Not around it, not along the edge, but right through that giant rock holding all those trees and rivers and animals. The mountain stretches up, up, up to the sky and as you look back down to the road, you realize that they’ve carved out a relatively small crevice for your car to zip through to the other side. Read More
In 2012 I moved to Colorado and lived in the basement of a home that was more than 100 years old. It was cold, there were no windows, and I was miserable. This sort of aloneness was at first liberating but soon began to echo like a canyon, and I realized I had things in my heart of hearts to address. Read More