Monday, October 3, 2016


I'm not Jewish. I can't claim that I know anything about anything I'm about to write on here. But my boyfriend is, and I have many many dear friends who are Jewish. Funny enough though, it was actually my mother (another non-Jewish but very spiritual person like myself) who reminded me a few days ago that Rosh Hashanah was coming up. She decided she was going to celebrate this year, in her own "internet guided pagan hippie" way. It made me laugh and got my interest, so I started my own search and read up about the traditions and customs of this High Holy day. The ritual of Tashlikh, where people walk by moving water reciting prayers and sometimes throwing bread or pebbles in as a symbol of casting off sin, sounded like a beautiful way to invite the Jewish New Year into my life. 
I took Fig for a walk to the urban forest near our home today. We spent more time than usual down by the creek walking and thinking, it was peaceful and lovely and sweet. Then I tried to take a picture of my adorable baby puppy by the creek (probably not recommended to bring your iPhone to Tashlikh, but I'm usually pretty sacrilege in most things I do). I started to get so frustrated that I couldn't get her to sit and stay, even though I brought the good treats she loves! I finally realized how silly I was being, and snapped an "un-perfect" photo of my curious sweet pup who just wanted to play and explore. I had to cast off my own sin of trying to find perfection in everything. Fig was able to show me that this is perfect, in every way it should be. 

Wednesday, September 28, 2016


Yesterday, after taking class at my yoga studio, I ran through the parking lot getting drenched in an unexpected downpour. I crossed paths with another teacher friend of mine also caught in the same crazy shower as she entered the studio. The minute I got to my car, the sheets of rain that had been coming in sideways at me, drenching me head to toe, slowed to a light shower, then on my drive home, almost stopped. I had been so impatient to get to my car and on with my day, that I hadn't stopped to think that this rain could clear quickly. My friend and I laughed about it today, how we both got soaked because we needed to be somewhere else and couldn't wait one minute to see if the sky would clear.

Today I am on day 6 of a cleanse, and the first 5 days were weaning off of caffeine, alcohol, cheese, sugar, gluten, corn - basically all of the things I have become addicted to and dependent on. I was being impatient wanting to see a flat belly and clear head immediately, then got discouraged when things got hard and I just wanted ice cream. Today things are going better, and stuff that I hadn't even considered could be food and caffeine related (teeth grinding at night, neck pain, muscle stiffness) have started to subside. I still find it difficult to resist a glass of wine at the end of the day, or going out to dinner with friends, but this isn't forever, and I am trying to be patient.

One of my biggest reminders to be patient right now is our new puppy, Fig. She is so sweet, and learning very fast, but of course she is still a puppy... Things get hard and discouraging when she is having a good time learning to potty outside, or walk on her leash, then totally disengages and wont come when we call her. My boyfriend witnessed me turning into a child one day when she wouldn't come to me and I declared that she hates me and none of our training is working (I know, DRAMATIC) He reminded me that she is just a baby, and these things take time. I totally Virgo-ed out and wanted perfection right away. But, she really is the cutest hourly reminder of patience.  

It can be difficult sometimes to find the balance between finding patience and becoming complacent. I've found it helps to keep a personal journal, and write down goals and desires that I want to work on in different areas of my life. This also allows me to get clear and honest with my current reality (what's working, what's not). There are times when we must be patient remember that the storm will pass, and there are others when we have to run through the rain.

Thursday, September 1, 2016


I was at the doctor last week for my first physical in about 10 years. The sweet older woman drawing my blood looked at my drivers license and said "Oh, you've got a birthday coming up! Watch out, you're creeping up on 30!" She meant nothing by it, just making small talk, but it felt a little strange to me.

A few days ago, C and I were at a wedding and another guest we just met was discussing his family and kids and asked if we were planning on having any kids, then said "jokingly" that if we were, we should probably get started soon (again noting that I am getting closer to 30). Once more I told myself that this perfect stranger only meant well, but why is it okay for anyone, especially someone I just met, to comment on my age and body and life plans like that?

Today I took the day off for my birthday, but made no plans. I puttered around the house a bit, drank too much coffee and spent too much time on the internet, but then I felt called outside. I drove through the city to one of my favorite spots, Sweetwater Creek, for a walk in the woods. I've become birthday spoiled, the past few years I have spent my birthday surrounded by breathtaking beauty in Glacier National Park, and last week I savored the amazing rolling hills and vineyards of N. Cali wine country and the awe-inspiring Redwoods. Today I felt a little snobbish as I approached Sweetwater, noting how small the trees looked and how thick and hot the air felt. But as I started on my trail, under the shade of the oak trees and thick mountain laurel, I felt at home. My walk slowly turned into a run, just because it felt so good to move my body through the familiar forest. My feet hit the ground and seemed to bounce back up from the layer of fallen pine straw atop thick Georgia red clay. My breath and heart beat played louder in my ears as sweat formed along my brow, like condensation on a tall glass of iced tea in the summer heat. The cicadas and crickets sung a soundtrack atop the trickling of the creek. I felt my belly (softer than usual from indulging on a vacation diet made up mostly of red wine, cheese, lemon tarts, cappuccinos, ice cream, and pizzas) come along for the ride of my jog, jiggling gleefully under my t-shirt and running shorts, and for the first time in my life, I was okay with it. Instead of feeling disappointed, my soft belly reminded me of the amazing trip I had just experienced with my love. This body, much like the trail itself has had its ups and downs, highs and lows. I've struggled all of my life with body image and eating issues, and will most likely continue to. But today I am celebrating this body. I am reminded of my years from markings that are linked to memories, like that scar on my thigh from a bug bite in South Africa, or the cut on my second toe from a rock in the lake at Girl Scout camp, or the three tattoos I have that each remind me of a very specific place and time in my life. There are also the markings on my heart, everything from joyful adventures saved to replay, and painful memories that linger and resurface every now and then. This body continues to carry me through life, whatever explorations I get into.

I stopped along the river to lay on a rock and watch the water go by. There are places where water turns white as it rushes over and through rocks in the way. At the same time, in the same body of water, there are places so still you see all the little tiny bugs landing like pin pricks on the surface. Again, I am reminded by nature how varied and amazing our life is. When we can find the beauty whether the water is rapid and exciting, or peaceful and still, our hearts will be full.

Thursday, March 10, 2016

Dirt in my Blood

Driving to work this morning I had an overwhelming urge to call my Grandpa Raymond and ask him if it was too early to plant tomatoes and okra yet, and what veggies I should put in my front beds and which ones in the back. I desperately wanted to be back in his little red pick up truck headed to the local feed and seed store to pick out seeds and fencing and say hello to all of his bridge buddies. I imagined I was on his back porch drinking sun tea and eating Saltines with fresh tomato, staring up into the endless tangle of grapevine over head. 

I cried big salty Saltine tears as I continued on the road to work.

Home for lunch, I kicked my shoes off and wandered into the grass. The warm sun kissed my neck as I dug, sifted, moved the soil around with my hands in the little garden in front of my house. It is only March, but Spring is here - the birds chirping softly wakes me up in the morning, the daffodils, saucer magnolias and dogwoods are blooming bright and cheery, and kneeling in the grass working the dirt with my own two hands fills my heart with joy.  

Pulling up the old, retiling and replanting, then waiting. This process makes me feel connected and strong and sane. 

I miss my Grandpa. 

I miss the way he always wore his cowboy hat and slacks. I miss the smell of his little old stick shift pickup that always had loose change and starlight mints floating around the dash. I miss riding with him to Grandma Sylvia's Farm where we would pick apples and look out on miles and miles of flat land and big skies. I miss the gentle way he taught me about farming and growing and building and living. He never had me sit out or be cautious because I was a girl. He had me digging and sawing and sowing and picking regardless of if I showed up in my ballet skirt or not. He showed me how to respect this earth we live on, dig in, and eat from. He helped shape me into the strong woman I am.

I miss my Grandpa, but I'm grateful for the time I had with him.
I have dirt in my blood, and always will.

Saturday, January 2, 2016

Hello 2016!

Thursday just happened, like it does, and then it was Friday, but we went from 2015 to 2016. The weight of the new year can feel so heavy sometimes. All this "blank space" to make something or do something (or at least say you will…) It makes me feel like I do sometimes when staring at this blank blog before writing something. Overwhelmed and a little lost. I feel like I have so much I want to do and say, and the longer I wait to do or say it, the more weight everything carries. So here I am, rambling through my first post of 2016. One of the things I want to do more this year (because you know, you can only make these kind of changes in your life at the turn of the new year…) is write. I love to blog, and journal, and write essays, and I have always told myself that its silly to spend too much time on it because I am a terrible speller, and never had any real "training" in writing. But I know that writing makes everything seem a little clearer in my head, and I like to share my experiences with others, something I don't do that well in person all the time, so writing and blogging is a creative outlet that I need to stop neglecting. Here's to 2016, and doing the things that we aren't perfect at!