The year it snowed
three feet in April
we had to dig
to find the
that people like
to talk about;
but eventually we
did find it, and it
happened when we
laid down on the
towering snow banks
and they began to
melt as the heat
from our bodies
turned them into
pools of liquid light.
Somehow it is well into 2018 already. February will be over before we know it, and I finally feel better, almost like myself again. I wonder where the fall and early winter went, or where I was for them. I am glad to be here now. It feels a little like waking up from a dream, the scary or depressing kind that you are ready to leave behind. The issues that came to light during my illness haven’t just gone away, so I must be diligent about continue to look at them: the need to be in control, to ask for and accept support, to be viewed as competent and in the know, the constant push to do more and be more. Maybe it helps just to have clarified the issues and to have called them out. The work is not done, but perhaps there is a bit of a path now.
Skiing and walking outside these past few weeks, now that I feel up to it, has been a reminder that I am most content when being present with myself, others, and the natural things of the world. Moving through a snowy and quiet forest, tromping with my daughter around a blindingly white lake, following a deer path along an icy ridge-line, all while breathing in the cold and clear air — these things are what is real and what matters. It’s not the photo I take or the likes that it gets on instagram, or the new followers that it entices to join the crowd. It’s the actual experience. This is obvious, but I think it’s easy for us to forget that in this social media driven culture that we have found ourselves fully invested in. I need to check myself regularly – it’s so easy to get sucked into the allure of virtual validation. Continue reading “What Life Belongs To”→
Sitting here, on the couch, listening to the clock tick, makes me wonder if I am afraid of silence; of being idle; of stillness. I always encourage others to cultivate that empty space – that quiet well – for themselves, but do I do it for myself? The pull to constantly be reading or figuring out a problem or checking for a message or writing a blog post (*ahem) or vacuuming or making something better, or cleaner, or more worthwhile…the pull to be productive in some form – to be doing something, always – is strong. Sometimes almost always, it’s too strong, and I give in to the pull; the allure of constant engagement or stimulation or growth or value creation. The desire to always have something to show for how I am spending my time. Proof of worth. Validation that I am thinking or doing important things that matter. Ensuring I am making something of myself. Being the one who always knows the answer or who can figure it out, or refer you to someone who can. Continue reading “silence keepers”→
Right now I am coaching almost all women, all who desire to lose weight, whether the goal is 5 or 75 pounds. They echo each other:
I want to feel good in my clothes.
I want to feel confident in my appearance.
I want to have more energy.
I want to keep up with my children, my job, my life.
I want to take up space in a way that feels right and good.
No one has actually said that last one, but it’s what I hear them all saying. We all want to matter, to feel like we are doing what we want to be doing. We all want to feel like we have the confidence we need to live the life we have been given. Continue reading “Taking Up Space: Going to the Edges”→
I’m in my childhood hometown of Brookings, South Dakota this long labor day weekend. This morning I ran down to the river banks of the Big Sioux, my legs remembering the hundreds of other times I’ve run down this road to start the day. The wind hadn’t picked up yet, and the sun was glinting off the still wet with dew prairie grass and ditch sunflowers. Even though the view on this little jog has changed over the years – the old gravel road now dead ends at the river, the bridge now years demolished; the two new huge houses on either side of the family homestead; the fences and new driveways where we used to roam free – despite these surface changes, the energy underneath, the whisper of the prairie as the world wakes up and the ancient undulation of the landscape, remains unchanged. It’s always good to come home, even though I no longer live here.
But anyway, I came to release the first copies of Woodland Manitou: To Be on Earth out into the world…or at least out into the hands of some folks of eastern South Dakota. Yesterday I set up shop across from my dad’s Hillside Prairie Gardens booth at the farmer’s market, and it was an early morning of loading up the market van, helping dad set up all the veggies (hello tomato season!) into their display boxes, positioning the books so they looked inviting, and chatting with the other vendors. There’s something about the farmer’s market. It’s a good place to spend some time on a Saturday morning, and I always appreciate the opportunity to be part of the community that helped inform how I see the world.
I’ve had my author copies for a few weeks now, so having the physical books around was nothing new, but handing them over to people who came to purchase it was a little surreal. As all authors probably say (or at least think at some point) I hope they like it and tell all of their friends. I’m glad I chose to do the first release in this place. Returning to your roots is usually a good choice, at least for me.
And people also like it when you give them free baked goods, so I baked a bunch of scones.