When my back was at it's worst I was given the gift of gratitude. An amazing friend and mentor told me focus on what you are grateful for. It can be as simple as "Tea" or "Netflix"... work your way up to 10.  I still try to focus on what I'm grateful for every day and make my list of 10.

​My dear friend Holley gave me a deck of Mindfulness Cards a while ago. Todays card is “Yes, Yes, Yes”! It made me think of the above Liza Minelli song.

​“The idea of saying a giant, fat “Yes!” to everything that comes your way might feel cheesy or over the top, but as a mindfulness exercise, the practice of “yes” can be incredibly freeing. Whenever you notice any resistance to something that is happening in your direct experience, such as a difficult emotion or difficult sensation, instead of pushing it away try saying “yes” to the feeling and see what happens if it feels OK to do so.
 
I have a lot to say about saying Yes… and saying no.  In improv there’s the whole concept of saying “Yes, and” to further the story and often it’s good to apply that to life as well.

Hello.... let me re-introduce myself... it's been a while.
I'm currently in a state (once again) where my life has crumbled and I'm starting over. 

My last post was in 2019.... A lot has happened since then. Cliffnotes: 
New career
Pandemic
More deaths of people I love
Moved across the country
New Career
Adventures
New Cats
New Career
Fired From Job
​Burnt out and Broken
Moved back home (across the country)
Now attempting to rebuild and rise from the ashes for the ... I've lost count (millionth) time.
​It's a lot. 

My father would have been 69 today.  It's been 4 years since he died. The week of the 10th - 18th is always hard. The day he passed away to his birthday. Every year the echos of grief, anger, disappointment, and longing ripple through me like a stone dropped in the water. He's been on my mind a lot lately, and in little cosmic ways I feel his presence. The two random shows we watched that both had songs from Fiddler on the Roof, The random comment or joke that sounds like something he would say, the taste and smell of something familiar to something he'd make.  This week has had several lessons in forgiveness.

This pictures was taken about 20 years ago, we were doing Fiddler on the Roof with the Mountaineer players in Bainbridge. It was the last time he played the role. 

Life is full of bitter fruit. Repeating patterns. It never fails... I feel I'm doing well, I feel I'm getting settled, comfortable, caught up, finally on my path... and then the North wind blows.... bringing cold reality and the urge, and need for change.

Chocolat is one of my all time favorite movies for a multitude of reasons... If you've not seen it, please go find a way to watch it. 

My garden is flourishing and I'm starting to harvest things. I had an abundance of radish greens (the radish themselves largely have been rather tiny... but whatever... work with what you are given).  I decided to make a soup.  Hot soup on a 80+ something day? Why yes, soup always!

​Most of the ingredients came from my garden and this brings me incredible joy. 

This soup is full of radish greens, but you could use pretty much any green you have on hand like beet greens, kale, spinach, turnip etc. It's also got zucchini and lots of herbs. I opted for chicken better than bullion to make the soup, but this could easily be made vegan by using a vegetable option. 

*Measurements are a loose guide... I cook rather instinctually by throwing things in a pot generally.

I have a tendency to over do things. I overwork, overthink, over speak, overdo. I tend to trudge through the brush and bramble and forge my own path instead of taking the one that is sometimes obviously laid out before me, or even taking the hint of a trail.  This leads sometimes to wonderful adventures, but often just making things harder than they really need to be. 

Mom and I went huckleberry picking this morning. We have a favorite spot we go, it's served us well, year after year, but as is so often in life, sometimes things change. 

Would that it were not so, but I, am bad at love. Persistently hopeful, yet increasingly hopeless. I flounder, stuck in a repetitive pattern of unrequited love and being drawn to the unavailable.  They say being aware of the pattern is the first step... Well, I'm aware of it. ... painfully.

I had a moment the other day where I stopped and realized I was happy. It was an odd sensation, something unfamiliar. In the last 5 years of overwhelming grief, stress, trauma and survival there have been fleeting moments, here, and there, of joy. The moment would pass and I'd go back to scrambling, trying desperately to catch my breath. 

My path has never been clear, my way never straight, and narrow, no neat order. My path is wild, untamed, and uncertain.....

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