Dear Neighbor,

You’d be about 110 in Earth years now.

When I can listen during the quiet times — it’s the time between waking and actually rising for me, so often — is when I start to feel like I’m actually inhabiting my life. People who have passed find me, then sometimes signs will chase me all day long.

I wrote this poem for her when she would have been 100. I think I got an A. If I didn’t, I think I should have. If for nothing else, for telling the truth.

Neighbor

true lady of ninety, cognizant of her mortality
ever gifting me with those tiny parts of her world,
that a only a child can appreciate correctly

she would be hours puttering in the garden that faced my window
tending the two uniform rows of the tulip bed
wearing tan gloves to protect her
already-worn hands from the dark soil

she invited me over for girl talk and tea
carpets, walls soaked distinctly with her thick, perfumy scent
she told me stories of her young years that were important

never had a child, nor I a grandmother
when she died
they gave me her toys.

Notice who or what emerges next time you are quiet.
… and no matter how strong the urge, don’t run away.

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What Price are you Paying?

“The price of anything is the amount of life you exchange for it.”  ~Thoreau

And so begins what will hopefully remain an earnest and sustained foray into blogging. As with everything I do, we’ll have to just sit tight and see how that goes! Topics may conceivably range from literature, yoga, philosophy, the occasional recipe of the moment and other assorted life ponderings. Creating a record of my story as I go. We all have one, you know. This narrative with a past, present and future made up of labels, definitions and… and.. and.  The trick is knowing the story is there and learning through living it, but not identifying with it to the point that it’s debilitating. To simply put this website together for myself has taken me a laughable amount of time. Mostly because I just haven’t known how to get started and often hesitate to start things unless I know I have all the answers. And rarely do I ever. Who does? Do you?

Last fall, I entered into a new phase of my desire to be living a more conscious and present existence. I wanted to practice in a greater number of moments what I am trying to help others with. So, I set out in search of the previously-elusive “white space” on my calendar, exploring this whole concept of unscheduled time. (woah.) And it’s still working out, for the most part.

Some days, I feel incredibly lazy to be consciously not doing. but most days, it feels like a luxury to be able to go home at night and just be. Not be volunteering my time more nights than not in a week, not going to every single workshop that looks vaguely interesting, not freaking about not having enough time when it’s completely within my control. Instead, I’ve been looking at what it is I’m trying to over-compensate for with that behavior. Work smarter, not harder.

I’m coming to see that I haven’t allowed my nervous system a break in years. My inner and outer lives have never matched. I have never really identified with the term “perfectionist”, but I recognize more daily that I fall into this category and get in my own way about close to everything — create my own resistance. I’m ready to create something else. And consume less, too. During this paring (re-pairing) experiment, I’ve also become acutely aware of how many activities I default to that are nothing but a time-suck. (ya.) And my life is passing. So is yours. You do this, too.

Shall we examine what it would mean to live in a more refined state of awareness together?

Reminder: you and I are beings in process, within a greater process — this living, breathing course that takes us from where we are today to a future point. Process, practice, is the essence. In a way, there’s nothing else.

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