sunday grace: thank you

hopeful me, circa 2008

on tuesday, november 8, 2008, i voted for the america i believe in.

the next day my friend meggan told me the story of how she fell asleep before the results were final, but left her radio on.  she woke hours later, in the dark, the voice of her next president, a kind, smart, dignified human being, in the near distance, graciously accepting his charge.  and she was filled with peace.

i've thought of meggan's story many times in the eight years since.  when i'm feeling half-asleep or in the dark or disoriented, and when i disagree with that very same president, i hear the voice of calm, the voice of kindness, the voice of humanity.

i've thought of meggan's story so much this week.

and i can hear the voice.

thank you, president obama, for your voice.

thank you, president obama, for your leadership.

thank you, president obama, for your dignified diplomacy, for reminding us that we all have a higher self and we need to use it.

thank you, president obama, for the way you laugh, the way you look at children, the way you father, husband, friend, and president.

thank you.

we are in the dark.  but we hear your voice.

oh HELLO you

how is summer going?

you know those days when the little things light you up, when you just can't believe how lucky you are, even when there are not-so-great things happening too?

i'm there.

here's why (in no particular order):

• i get to paint.  in my home.  in my yard.   the mountains.  
• my yoga teachers who, without saying a word, make me believe i will soon press up into a headstand or balance my body on my arms.  who make me believe i am capable.
• this smart and handsome and loving man i share life with.
• my buddha dogs.
• my baby girl.  she breathes fire.
• it's almost autumn.
• a growing community of authentic in-person friends.
• the job that supports all the artmaking and colorful living, that i love too much to continue to refer to as my "day job".
• sometimes people ask me to draw and paint for them.
• there is a bunny living in our front yard.
• which kind of tells me the snake has moved on to another habitat.  
• my news hiatus is now permanent.  never felt better or more intelligently informed.
• rainbow-stripe sneakers.
• music makers.

some days i'm all, how did this happen?

most days i'm all, oh yeah, you worked really hard on creating a life you love.

what is lighting you up these days?

sunday grace {and gratitude}

a golden lotus lamp hangs upside down over the dining room table and illuminates the space. sometimes i sit here in the soft focus of the early morning light, just before the sun peeks over the east side treeline and floods every corner of this room with brightness.  i just sit.  and in a practice of gratitude i take it all in, the mental inventory of goodness and abundance, of all the needs met.  i whisper thank yous and recognize the incomprehension of how this all happened and quickly swallow that always-present chaser of enjoy-it-while-you-can-because-things-can-change-at-any-second, that tastes somewhat like unworthiness.

gratitude {№15}

for all these things:

• imagination
• intuition
• reason
• everyday beauty (and the ability to see it)
• cameras
• paint brushes
• a kiss on the top of my head
• paris
• uncontrollable giggles and inside jokes
• a man who smells like soap, wood, cardamom and honesty
• wildness

gratitude {№14}

us.

gratitude {№13}

seriously, i don't know how any human gets through life on earth without dogs.  i am so grateful for the love and laughter these two bring into our home.  luca is a wire fox terrier and simon is a corgi.  they fight some days but mostly love on each other.  in the photo above, luca is cleaning simon's ears, a daily event.

we lost our roxy dog this last summer which makes my gratitude for these two lovedogs the deepest of deep.

gratitude {№12}

grateful for the little things like eyeglasses.  mine broke last week and i had to search high and low for my spare pair.  during the hours i was without, i was so frustrated and felt really lost (in my own home) and even cried a bit.  i can't imagine how it would be to not have these extra set of eyes that allow me to see details of this beautiful world and read words on a page that fill my heart and move me to engage in the world.

thank you eyeglasses inventor!

paying it forward here.

gratitude {№11}

• raking leaves in the sunshine
• doggy heads poking out from leaf mountains
• gouda and apple on rosemary bread, grilled
• afternoon naps
• the first of what i hope to be the complete collection of vintage penguin poets paperbacks (d38, the metaphysical poets)
• the very last of the beautyberries trumpeting the final hurrah of autumn on gypsy hill
• home

gratitude {№10}

eye candy on a cold day.

and the beautiful lady who risked glue-gun-carpal-tunnel-syndrome to create it.

paying it forward by supporting local shops and small businesses this holiday season.

gratitude {№9}

• lunchtime walks in bright sunshine.
• eating sushi under a blindingly yellow canopy of ginkgo trees.
• sketching a leaf.
• guessing at the proper name and only missing the spelling by a few letters.
• lunch.
• a job from which to break for lunch.

gratitude {№8}

i am so grateful that all we really have to do is think it, live it, send it.  we are powerful beyond measure.

paying it forward here, here and here.

gratitude {№7}

grateful for the small things:

• mercury goes direct 
• spaghetti squash
• how wearing gold boots makes you feel like wonder woman
• a quiet safe neighborhood
• yogi tea cold season (this stuff keeps me well when i am surrounded by germs)
• new ideas
• the crunch of leaves beneath my steps
• woodsmoke

gratitude {№6}

grateful for the company of good, strong, smart, talented, peaceful women.

(creative joy, garrison, ny; october 2013; photo by tracey clark.)

gratitude {№5}

caution:  life is good after meditation.

it's true.  since (finally!) committing to meditation on a pretty regular basis:

life has clarity.

life has rhythm.

life has abundance.

life has kindreds.

life has answers.

life has questions.

life has space.

life has breath.

life has beauty.

life has truth.

life has love.

life has grace.

life has......

thank you meditation.

gratitude {№4}

grateful for the way the sun streams in through the windows on quiet sunday mornings.

grateful for the scent of coffee laced with cardamom.

grateful for the wee forest behind the house and how it explodes with color each autumn.

gratitude {№3}

so grateful for healthy food grown by neighbors who care about the earth and each other.

grateful for access to markets and so many choices.

grateful for those who work each day toward safer and more environmentally-friendly food production and distribution.

grateful for my improving relationship with food and understanding how to be nourished.

gratitude {№2}

today is dia de los muertos, a day on which departed relatives are honored in the mexican culture.  growing up in the central valley of california, my childhood was infused with mexican culture, so i am naturally drawn to celebrations such as this.  plus, the color.

this weekend relatives are visiting.  i have some anxiety about this.  i don't have a particularly close family of origin.  one person in my family with whom i felt particularly attuned to as a child was my grandma dee.  i write about her often in this space.  i imagine that she felt the same otherness in the family unit when she was with us.

today i am grateful for my grandma dee and her love of a simple quiet life that was curiously juxtaposed with her fierce apache spirit and the courage to be different.

gratitude {№1}

hi loves.  once again i want to focus on the month of november to practice gratitude.  of course, to live a truly joyful life, we practice gratitude as we move through each day of our year, but i like to use the month of giving thanks to really drive it home.

in the days post-creative joy retreat, i am walking through my life in a love and beauty rainbow haze, with awareness that i became a kinder more beautiful version of myself, taking space and time to re-enter the sometimes-harsh real world.  i am lucky to have big spaces of silence and stillness in my life (part luck, part design, part sacrifice).  i have room to stop and remember a bit from the monastery and integrate it into my real life and actually see it working.

i struggle with this luck, this privilege.  this always comes up for me at retreat and other moments when my life reflects back to me in glittery and complete opposition to the lives of many of the women and children with whom i have worked.  the brightness of privilege is shadowed always by a profound sense of injustice.  and then guilt.

we talked about this at retreat and our lovely leader jen louden wrote about it here.

so this year my november gratitude practice will include additional practice in noticing the privilege guilt when it arises and moving into moments of service and connection with the spirit of love rather than obligation-slash-penance.

i hope you will do some sort of gratitude practice too, either on your blog, instagram, facebook or in a more private way.  if you are, please share so i can follow along.

bits of magic here and there

the cold and dark winter is lingering well into spring.  this morning my little forest is covered in heavy white snow.  this is the latest blizzard we've experienced since moving to virginia nearly twelve years ago.  it's in my nature to be disappointed when expectations (bright sunny skies, blooming trees, hikes and picnics, etc.) are thwarted and my mood is certainly affected.  i find myself vacillating between wee temper tantrums and bouts of melancholy.

reluctantly, i move from resistance and solution-finding into acceptance and surrender.  i mean, it's the weather; there is not much i can control or direct there, right?  might as well enjoy one more week of hibernation and indulge in the bright side:

• a delightfully unexpected week home (all travel and classes cancelled this morning)
• time i didn't think i had to start seeds for the karma garden
• hot homemade spicy lentil soup is still appropriate
• been feeling tossed around a bit lately, i think i might need some time to find my footing
• the silence of the earth when covered in snow is so beautiful; winter truly is the introvert's season
• a stack of books and many naps
• gratitude for a heated house, healthy food, good sheets and warm bodies (of the human and canine variety) to snuggle

a good year

twentytwelve:  ten things i liked about you

1. there was courage to leave the job that was smothering me
2. there was something better and brighter and way more me to replace it
3. working with meg:  more greens, more breath, more space for what's next
4. walks in the woods with my favorite person and a corgi who loves to hike
5. yogaville and yoga festivals and just plain yoga
6. kindreds
7. solstice fires, new years day picnics, country roads
8. letting go
9. becoming vegetarian
10. the karma garden

thank you.

see previous year-end-slash-gratitude-slash-foot-shots-collections here.

(p.s.  those pointy-toed ballet flats get some mileage!)