Deep peace of the quiet earth to you. 

October 29, 2019

Because, you know, it's a battle out here for most of us most days. It shouldn't be. It doesn't have to be, but that's where we are. So we survive (not hyperbole) any way we can. We don't have to answer for these comforts. We only have to answer to ourselves, our needs, and to stop apologizing--particularly to ourselves. 

September 18, 2019

Here's what I've forgotten: to trust my mind to stillness. Instead, I've been fighting like mad under the tempting assumption that to let the mind still would mean that there's nothing to stop the avalanche of dread, worry, anxiety, and worst-case-scenarios from coming toppling down from where they've been shoved and shoved again.


But that, doves, is the crux of the illness--this belief that it takes all of our brute strength to ward off the messy onslaught of our minds. And the ridiculously unfair and cruel thing about worry, about anxiety is that the more we struggle, the more it manifests. Think of it this way: a glass of water on your desk, when left alone, will not rush up and topple the glass, soaking everything in its path. Of course not--that's not the nature of water. It takes a force--the wind, the moon, the tides, gravity--to inspire movement, gentle or violent.

We are our own act of god--we provide our own force by struggling to hold everything back. But her...

August 13, 2019

Part of the difficulty of being human is the instinct to carry it all with us. Not material things, although maybe that's a source of comfort for some of us, but mental things--memories, worries, regrets, wishes, plans, strategies, complaints, pain, and joy. For some reason, we feel the need to catalog everything--good, bad, neutral, want, don't want, heavy, light. No wonder we have little time for anything else. No wonder we're so frantic, so anxious, so hurried, always, always. 

It's like we're afraid we'll forget who we are without the crust of what it is to be human. Who are we without our worries? Without our past? Without our excuses, our plans, our 'if only's'? It's not unlike injuring yourself and having to wear a cast--at first, it's a hassle, but then, once healed, we're afraid to lose the safety of that structure, afraid to use the limb, not necessarily fearing future injury, but fearing the lack of support, the work it will take (the time it will take) to rehabilitate. 

And m...

August 8, 2019

There's that great exchange written by Tolkien in The Fellowship of the Ring that I come back to again and again: “I wish it need not have happened in my time," said Frodo. "So do I," said Gandalf, "and so do all who live to see such times. But that is not for them to decide. All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given us.”

I find it so comforting because I can't tell you how many times a week (some weeks, a day) I wish I had been born in another time, that I wish our time could be otherwise. Of course, such wishes are a waste of time, though that never stops my wishing them.

Indeed, I think I have lost much to wishing. 

The problem with wishing, aside from the whole time thing, is that it leaves room for very little else--especially solutions that would, perhaps, negate the need for such a pastime. But pulling oneself out of the wish-mind is no easy feat. I think there will be many days when the path is unclear, the direction clouded. Maybe that's a necessary waiting...

June 21, 2019

Letting our mind still itself seems like a scary prospect, counter-intuitive--if we let our minds still and settle, then there would be nothing there to stop the avalanche of dread, worry, anxiety, and worst-case-scenarios to come toppling down from where we've shoved them, our backs aching from the effort. 


But that, doves, is the crux of the illness--this belief that it takes all of our brute strength to ward off the messy onslaught of our minds. And the ridiculously unfair and cruel thing about worry, about anxiety is that the more we struggle, the more it manifests. Think of it this way: a glass of water on your desk, when left alone, will not rush up and topple the glass, soaking everything in its path. Of course not--that's not the nature of water. It takes a force--the wind, the moon, the tides, gravity--to inspire movement, gentle or violent. 

We are our own act of god--we provide our own force by struggling to hold everything back. But here's the secret--if we were to wa...

June 11, 2019

You are not yourself at your most disparaging; you are not yourself in the midst of your most negative self-talk. You are the product, in those moments, of a hard day or a hard life and the insidious infiltration of the other we call media or societal pressure or fitting in. 

We can forgive ourselves everything now, because we have not only survived but thrived--look at us. We're here to tell the tale, and goddess knows we need more storytellers with our heart and our experience.

May 10, 2019

You bring your uniqueness to the table every day. You don't have to define it; you don't have to know how you're different than anyone else. You can just assure yourself that, simply by being here, you meet the criteria. To be wondering constantly why and what for and how is to trap yourself in a bubble of distorted self-reflection when you could be spending that limited energy elsewhere. 

Just assume your right to be here and take comfort in the fact that someone, somewhere thought you were the perfect match to this incarnation. There is power and freedom in that belief, that belonging.  

April 5, 2019

If, more often than not, we can find peace alone with ourselves, then we know we've arrived. But that "alone" must be present, un-distracted, which is why, when we're not at peace, we lie awake at night--the one time we can be guaranteed some quality, undisturbed alone time. 

Sleep is the canary in the coal mine, the indicator of the health of your greater ecosystem. So maybe the first question is, how well are we resting at night? 

March 20, 2019

It's funny really--we've been followers for so long, I'm not sure we even know who's up there leading us. Or maybe we do, but it's become habit--following trends, people, fashion. We've forgotten that maybe we weren't the ones who made these choices, that maybe they were made for us and we just shrugged and nodded and kept up our slow shuffle. 

Well. I think it's high time this follower, at least, put down the map and started charting by her own stars.

February 25, 2019

Maybe we carry these things--crystals, amulets, lucky socks--not because we believe in the power of the object alone, but because we believe we're stronger with them. Amplified. And maybe we are--maybe belief is that simple, and if it takes an object to carry such an amorphous concept as belief, what's the harm? It's when we infuse too many objects with too much power that we become burdened, weighed down. 

Whatever gets you heard and gives you strength in this walk is an amulet worth carrying. 

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