Be(YOU)ti(full)

http://weheartit.com/entry/9823293

“ she had rainbow hair -

soft, glittery, shiny, iridescent rainbow hair.

and veins full of flowing stars.

she had light.

and she was love.

and when she forgot,

she sat in the sun

and let the beams dance with all her colors.

the rhythm, the beat, the ruckus, always reminded her again. ”

(~terri st. cloud)

And when she forgot she sat in the sun - letting the beams dance with all her vibrant colors; finding the rhythm that would reconnect herself with the beat of herself.

There is such a profound sacredness in those moments. I sit in the stillness and it feels sacrosanct and holy as the remembering washes over me - filling me with a sense of communion and wholeness and acceptance.

In the center of those moments, feeling the completeness, I wonder how and why I allowed myself to ever forget in the first place, and with passionate conviction I promise myself I will never allow myself to forget again.

And I mean it. I really do.
I make that promise to myself from my heart.
With all my heart.
A sacred and unbreakable pact, I agree as I shake hands with myself on it.

But at some place in time as the days or weeks or months go by, I find myself in a place of having forgotten again.
Yes, again.
And my heart cries within the betrayal.

I want to stop forgetting.
I want to live in the remembering.

Last night I came home, put on my comfy lounge around clothes, made myself an iced mocha, sat myself down in front of the computer and indulged in one of my favorite pastimes; blog hopping.

And I found a whole bunch of really cool and inspiring blogs – in fact my desktop is full of little blog icons that I plan on revisiting. (In all my spare time.)

Anyway, as I read, I found a challenge that totally intrigued and inspired me called “30daysofbeauty”. Although the challenge was issued last April, and those 30 days are now up, I’m motivated to venture out on my own anyway.

Seeing as how tomorrow is July 1st – I thought “serendipity!” – a great way to start the month!!

A month of remembering. A month of beauty and me.

So the challenge is to ponder on what your beauty means to you - where you find it in yourself, what you think makes you beautiful and then everyday for the next 30 days you make a list, answering the prompt, “I am beautiful because, …”

Beautiful. Me.
Be – YOU – ti – FULL. Me being the “U” in beauty filled and full.  

And so I’m bringing me, the one with soft, glittery, shiny, iridescent rainbow hair and veins full of flowing stars, and light and I’m going to sit in the sun and let the beams dance with the rhythm and beat of all my colors.

And I’m going to enjoy each and every nuance of the ruckus.

Wanna join me?

the question of enough



The sacred and sovereign Jane over at morethingsithinkabout posed the questions:

does honey ask if it is golden enough? sweet enough? nourishing enough?

does grass ask if it is green enough? soft enough? tender enough?

does a sparrow ask if it is flying beautifully? hopping enough?

does the sky ask if it is blue enough? wide enough?

why do i ask if i am good enough? kind enough? smart enough?

Yes.
Where, when, why and how did it start - this questioning of enoughness?  
 
Because there was a time when we never thought about whether or not we were enough.  A time we pulled out our dress up clothes, wearing tattered veils and crowns of flowers - dancing around the backyard to music only we could hear with wild abandon and laughter, believing in magic - knowing (with certainty) that we were born to be queens and we were only biding our time.    
 
And we never thought to ask if it was enough.  
Or if we were enough.
 
Back when we believed we could do anything we wanted to do.
Be anything our imaginations beckoned us to be.
Before we were taught the words to the question that would take away our magic. 
 
And we started asking.
 

simple pleasures

simple pleasures



Year by year the complexities of this spinning world grow more

bewildering and so each year we need all the more to seek peace and comfort

in the joyful simplicities. (Woman’s Home Journal – Dec. 1935)

The joyful simplicities. For me today that was being in the kitchen baking cookies. In my career woman, empty nester life, I don’t spend a lot of time in the kitchen. I especially don’t spend a lot of time baking.

I come from a long (maternal) line of really great cooks and even better bakers. The kind who rarely followed a recipe or measured with any utensil other than their eye or the palm of their hand. Yep - multiple generations of women who could produce 5 star restaurant worthy meals and desserts effortlessly.

And then there was my paternal grandmother whose signature dish was something called “Green Fluff.” To be fair, I will say she didn’t have to follow a recipe or measure out the marshmellows, cool whip and box of instant pistachio pudding to create it - as long as the main ingredients came out of a box, tub or container – she could pretty much produce it effortlessly too. Whatever “it” might be – which wasn’t always (God bless her for trying) identifiable. Or edible.

So anyway, when the genes got dispensed, I got mostly hers. With just enough of my mother’s side to be able to follow a recipe when need to. Or want to.

Like today in the kitchen baking cookies. Not just any cookies, but my mom’s famous oatmeal raisin cookies. From the recipe in her cookbook, in her handwriting with little notes in the margins.

And as I measured and blended and dropped by spoonfuls and the smell of baking cookies filled the house, I remembered back to other Sunday afternoons, baking cookies with my mom; my little brothers lined up at the breakfast bar, waiting for the cookies to come out of the oven, and all of us eating the first ones out of the oven while they were still hot. 

Which I did today, even though I was alone in the house and my brothers are too far away to line up at my breakfast bar.  But with Joan Baez singing in the background,  it was beautiful and sacred and peaceful - and I felt my mom all around me. (Which is probably why my cookies turned out so deliciously.)

The joyful simplicities. Like spending the afternoon baking oatmeal raisin cookies.

girlfriends

can you guess which would be me?  

I love and cherish my girlfriends.  

There's nothing like the embrace of a girlfriend - especially when you've both been attacked by a couple of (unrelated) mean people and need the exclamation point of a well timed and incredulous "how dare she" spoken out loud just before the pinkie pledge of "I've got your back sister" that only girlfriends can give. 

Which is how yesterday played out.  Me and my bestie, exchanging our pinkie pledges, drinking a tall cup of really good coffee, eating crumbly scones dripping in butter, going to an art gallery (where I bought an incredible painting) and just in general, hanging out and savoring each other.  

I love our time together.  I love her.  She who has been by my side through the years to laugh at my jokes, indulge me in my eccentricities, cry with my heartache and everything else in between.    I love the ease, comfort, and kindred flow of our friendship whether it's spent in quiet whispers or laugh out loud - in the easy or the tough.

Speaking of laugh out loud - she told me about a blog she had read and when I got home I looked it up.  I laughed (tears in my eyes and holding my sides) out loud all the way through it because it so totally could have been about me, my husband and my bestie rather than the author and hers.

So yes, (raising my coffee mug) here's to summer afternoons and girlfriends and the power of friendship!! 

And, if you want a great story about girlfriends, check out this hysterical blog!!  

XXOO, 

QnD 

the company we keep

The single clenched fist lifted and ready, or the open hand held out and waiting.

Choose: For we meet by one or the other.

(Carl Sandburg)

I’ve made a decision: If you can’t play nice and get along well with others, you aren’t welcome on my playground.

Yeppers - I’m done, done, (read my lips) dee-ohh-enn-eee, done with mean, bitter, angry, unreasonable, miserable and negative people.

At the beginning of this year (as I do every year) I chose my “one little word” which was “truth.” The intention behind choosing my word was to tell the truth, seek the truth, discern the truth, know the truth, and (most importantly for me) accept the truth.

What I am learning is that the truth isn’t always pretty, not everyone is good at heart, and no, just because someone chooses to jump off a bridge doesn’t mean I'll jump too. 

Insanity: doing the same thing repeatedly yet expecting different results.
Enabling: creating a comfortable environment for unacceptable or unhealthy behavior.

“When people show you who they are, see them.

When people tell you who they are -- believe them."

Maya Angelou

I used to champion the cause that mean, bitter, angry, miserable, unreasonable and negative people didn’t really want to be that way, telling myself to take the high road because they were drawn to me because I had something to give them or teach them about not being mean, bitter, angry, miserable, unreasonable and negative people. (i.e. I could love them into niceness.)

I’ve changed my mind. The truth that is emerging for me is it’s not that they were drawn to me at all, it’s that, quite simply as the old cliché goes, “misery loves company” and the kind of company doesn’t matter to them – just that it’s company.

Don’t misunderstand my emergent truth as a hardening of my heart or lack of compassion or concern. I understand that if all a person has ever known is meanness, sometimes all that exists in a person is meanness, and all there is for them to give back is anger and meanness.

My heart breaks at the thought of what must have happened in their lives to make them the person they live out in that life of mean today. I know first hand the pain that lives behind the anger, the shadows that feed the mean and the hopelessness of it ever changing that creates the negative.

Believe me, I do.

But all that exists in a person doesn’t have to be meaness – that’s a choice, and even if all that exists in a person is anger as a result of there only being mean, they don’t have to direct it towards innocent bystanders - that’s a decision. I have first hand knowledge about that too.

Which is why I now wave my white flag of surrender, declare my space a no fly zone and quit calling it anything different than what it is.

Angry, mean, bitter, negative and miserable people are that way because they choose to be - period. All the excuses, justifications, and rationalizations in the world don’t absolve or change that fact.

After many years of fighting against it, I now accept that what they choose for their life is their karma, and not mine. It’s not my problem to take on, worry over or fix. I’m no longer willing to be more committed to changing them than they are to changing themselves.

Their anger, bitterness, resentments, unreasonablness and misery are not about what I have or haven’t done to them, it’s about what they have or haven’t done to or for themselves. It’s about how they choose to stand in their own life; their choices, reactions, actions and perception. It really is all about them - an inside job so to speak and frankly, it needs to be kept that way.

Maya Angelou was once asked how she deals with angry and unkind people. She replied that if they show up, she immediately removes herself from their presence. If they are in her house, she kindly and respectfully asks them to leave, sending them on their way with love, prayers and blessings.

I can’t think of a better lead to follow so that is what I choose to do too.

“Vaya con Dios”

Henri Nouwen wrote that the greatest purpose of our existence is to reflect and give each other the gift of our belovedness to God. Mean, angry, bitter, negative and miserable people do not give or reflect the gift of my belovedness to me, nor can I, caught in the middle of it, give them the gift of their belovedness back.

It’s a no win situation and everyone looses. Everyone gets hurt.  Mean takes prisioners.

Angry, mean, unreasonable and negative people have the right (by their free will and choice) to be mean, angry, unreasonable and negative. Just as I have the right (by my free will and choice) to be loving, kind and happy.

And to avoid them. I’m letting go of mean, angry, bitter, negative and miserable people. Walking away.

Bye. Bye.

I won’t look back but I will pray (with all my heart) that those lost in the darkness of angry and mean find their way into the light of love and their hearts are healed.

Because I am going to fully live the joy that fills my life. I am going to reap the rewards of my choices and decisions to walk towards the light and out of the darkness. I am going to skip with gratitude, continue to say please and thank you every day and connect with all the positive and good and grace and love that surrounds me.

Yes, misery loves company.

But so does happy – and THAT’S the company I am choose to keep.

.

the beauty of ordinary

I believe we’ve all had those moments when life was just comfortable as it happened.  Or the moments we wish we could do over – the things we said that we wish we hadn’t; the things we didn’t say but wish we had; the things we’ve done and regretted; the things we didn’t do and regretted not doing. But I also believe we’ve all had those moments that were so incredibly filled with grace and we were so spot on the mark that it felt like we hit the game winning home run ball right out of the ballpark and into the next county as the band played and the crowds cheered.


That’s life – and whether it’s life on life’s terms or life on our terms, it is filled with the moments that are sacred and profound, as well as mundane and ordinary.

Which is why (as I’ve talked about before) I disagree with the current trend that tells us we should be living life happily, creatively, big, bold, expressively and profound in every moment.

I don’t know about you, but behind the smiley face façade, some days I’m elbow deep in sequins and flinging handfuls of glitter in the air and some days I’m ankle deep in dog shit and wondering how to get the stink off my feet.

And so this pressure to fill each and every moment up to overflowing, of trying to create something really special out of nothing really special is not just a self defeating sure fire method of setting ourselves up to fail, but also exhausting.

(shrugging shoulders – just my opinion for what it's worth y’all)

Some things are mundane or routine or ordinary – and really, should be left alone to go on about their way being mundane, routine and ordinary – giving comfort in their boring non-eventfulness.

To my way of thinking, if everything was a big production, nothing would be a big production, if everything was special nothing would be special because there would be nothing left to compare it to or measure it against. And, if everything was “take your breath away” momentous we would suffocate from lack of breathing in oxygen.

My laundry pile is just my laundry pile. Seriously. Taking pictures of it and spending hours photoshopping it to go in an art journal and make a statement of depth and meaning didn’t change it or my feelings about it one bit. Same with my husband’s pile of used dental floss on the coffee table or random tools left on the counter in the bathroom.

And how about those family gatherings I worried were too boring and thought needed to be interactively deep bonding experiences between parent and childrens so I spent hours printing out little strips of paper with prompts to facilitate meaningful conversation around the dinner table and my kids looked at me like I was crazy and told me all they wanted to do was come over and just “hang out” and eat my potato salad and rice crispy bars?

Uh-huh. My case(s) in point.

We don’t always have to be doing more and being more. We don’t have to always be performing or directing a Broadway production.  Sometimes life is more about little skits on a stage in the backyard.  And sometimes it’s nice to just sit in the audience and take it all in.

Sometimes it’s nice to just simply look upon sunlight as sunlight - dozing off in the warmth of it rather than try to capture it on a canvas or write it out as a poem.

We don’t have to fill up every moment with meaningfulness or find profound around every corner - nor were we meant to. Sometimes the best thing to do is nothing and sometimes the greatest beauty that exists in the world is in the ordinary moments of life unfolding, quietly, comfortably and uneverntfully - more than enough as it is - without an agenda.

Really. Just try it.

a resounding yes

Over at Painted Path, Julia has been blogging about saying “yes” and she started a great discussion by posing the question: “What do you know that you need to shed/unravel/get rid of/declutter/let go of/DROP so that you can say a more resounding YES to your deepest Self?”

I knew my answer before I even finished reading the question, mostly because it’s something I’ve been thinking about a lot already:

There are things I want to do just because I want to do them and because it feels right and makes me happy and I want to do it for no other reason than the sheer pleasure of doing it and offering it to others as a gift from my heart. No strings attached. Free for the giving and the taking. Just because.

I’d already made a decision to step off the productivity treadmill and walk away from the money-go-round. I wanted out from underneath the pressure of this current and pervasive trend that’s out there of being encouraged pushed to live creatively large in every single moment and looking at everything I have to offer as not just profound, but also a potential income generator – forced into measuring my worth and the value of what I have to offer against how many people sign up for a workshop or follow me on my blog or put my badge on their website.

Honestly, I’ve never really cared about any of that and I’m done forcing myself to cave into it in an attempt to “fit in” to a world that is now telling me if I’m not making money from sharing my personal growth experiences and/or my creative endeavors, it’s some form, version or combination of  (a.) a self indulgent waste of time, and/or (b.) I’m not living up to my full potential and/or (c.) valuing myself enough.

So part of my yes is to give myself full permission to loudly (and firmly) proclaim, “hogwash” which I follow with a resounding “no more.” 

And I plan on sticking to it. 

At this point in my life, the truth is I’m just not that into it. I’m not interested in working that hard. Nor do I want to. I’m putting a stop to the vicious cycle of producing, and the marketing, promoting, hyping and pom pom waving it takes to win the cheerleading contest and gather those crowds of thousands.

Because I’ve been there, done that and had the “happy feel good” sucked right out of me each and every time.

I want the happy feel good back and the only way to get it back is to grab onto it with both hands and hold on tight. Without my motives being questioned or second guessed or judged -  by myself or others. Especially without the pressure of having to make money at it in order to justify doing it.

I just want to throw on a pot of coffee, stick the muffins in the oven and put out the welcome mat on ocassion. Have cozy little gatherings where I hold court and share from my heart. Just because *I* want to. Just because it brings *me* joy. Just because it’s important to *me* and it fills *me* up to offer it out.

So yes.  I say yes.

Yes to there being things I want to do just because I want to do them and because it feels right and good and it makes me happy and brings me joy and  I want to do it for no other reason than the sheer pleasure of doing it and offering it to others as a gift from my heart. No strings attached. Free for the giving and the taking. Just because.

That's my proclamation and I'm sticking to it. 

I love being Queen.

of a queen and her king

A wedding anniversary is the celebration of love, trust, partnership, tolerance and tenacity. The order varies for any given year. ~Paul Sweeney

Today is our wedding anniversary – and we mark the passage of 31 years of love, trust, partnership, tolerance and tenacity.

Thirty one years since we stood outside with the sun shining down on us - me barefoot with a crown of flowers in my hair and he in khaki’s and Birkenstocks – exchanging the vows we had hand written to each other, with our friends and family standing around us holding hands in a circle as a guitar played softly in the background.

Sometimes it doesn’t seem possible it’s been that many years and sometimes it seems like it’s been twice that many years. Sometimes I think marrying him was the best decision I ever made and sometimes I wonder what the heck I was thinking.

Standing here at the beginning of year 31, one could say we’ve grown up together. Grown closer together in some things and further apart in others. But always together.

We’ve loved and laughed and fought and cried. We’ve gone without and had more than we needed. We’ve struggled in the ways the young struggle and grown comfortable with the ease of mid-life. We’ve been both each other’s best friend and harshest critic. We’ve held our children as babies, questioning every decision we ever made and sent them off into the world as young men with confidence and pride in the great job we did. We’ve wondered how we would get through it when the worst that could happen happened, and sighed with relief when the worst that could happen didn’t. We’ve said good-bye long before we were ready – holding hands at gravesides as we buried siblings, parents and friends. And most recently we’ve laughed and cried with joy and shook our heads in wonder at the full circle of our lives as we welcomed our first grandchild into the world.

This weekend I was talking to a young woman who had just gotten engaged. She asked me for my “secret” recipe for a long and happy marriage. I laughed out loud.

I don’t know that I have a secret recipe - or (for that matter) know if there even is one. All I know is that 31 years ago today, I stood gazing into a pair of eyes so blue they reminded me of the sky as I said “I choose you this day, and give you my heart…..”

anything

You can do anything you want to do .

You can say hello or say good-bye
You can hold on tight or you can let go
You can yell or you can speak gently
You can raise your hand in a fist or you can extend your hand in love
You can laugh or you can cry
You can stride confidently or you can falter
You can hold your breath or you can breathe deeply
You can constantly question or you can accept
You can embrace it or you can run from it
You can strike out or you can hit the game winning home run ball
You can humbly request or you can arrogantly demand
You can burn brightly or you can burn out
You can be peace or you can be discord
You can teach love or you can teach fear
You can say I can make a difference or what difference does it make
You can say I matter or what does it matter
You can arm or you can disarm
You can load or unload
You can smile or you can frown
You can color inside the lines or outside the lines
You can be docile or you can be fierce
You can be kind or unkind
You can be courteous or rude
You can be generous or you can be selfish
You can be a martyr or be a saint
You can be observant or you can be oblivious
You can be compassionate or you can be callous
You can lay down or you can get up
You can surrender or you can fight back
You can take prisoners or release hostages
You can make lists of good or you can make lists of evil

Yes, you can do anything you want to do.

Be anything you want to be.
Be whoever you want to be.
Live your life however you want to live it.
Half way or all the way. Up or down.

It’s all part and parcel of the human experience.
Beyond right or wrong.
Our inherent right.

It’s just a matter of choice.
Yours. Mine. Ours

Whatever rocks your socks or floats your boat or gets you through the night.

As long as you’re willing to own it. Take responsibility for it. Tell the truth about it. Accept that there are consequences to it, and that in living it; not everyone will necessarily agree with you or want to keep you company, or want to hear you or even like you -  no matter what you do or choose.

You can do anything you want to do.
Anything.
And you can choose not to do anything you don’t want to do.

So choose wisely. 
Mindfully. 
Consciously.

Regardless of what anyone or anything outside yourself chooses to do or not do.

Because in the end, when all is said and done – it will all come back around to being a choice.

Our own individual choice in the moment.

No one else's.
Nothing else's.

Everything.

unfolding

me at 8

My friend and soul sister Julia has a weekly gathering over at “Being Queen” – the community called Mindful Monday, and each week she posts something to kick of the week. Something to get us mindful and conscious and for me, whether she plans it or not, has me digging deep. This week she posted a poem “how to paint a donkey” and her experiences with painting donkeys.

How to Paint a Donkey

By Naomi Shihab Nye

She said the head was too large,

the hooves too small.

I could clean my paintbrush

but I couldn’t get rid of that voice.

While they watched,

I crumpled him,

let his blue body stain my hand,

I cried when he hit the can.

She smiled. I could try again.

Maybe this is what I unfold in the dark,

deciding for the rest of my life,

that donkey was just the right size.

Maybe this, like Naomi and Julia, is what I too unfold in the dark – deciding for the rest of my life that donkey was just the right size.

When I was a little girl, I won an award with a big gold star on it. I was so proud I couldn’t wait to race home and show it to my mom. I excitedly told her the story as I handed my award to her – knowing she would be proud and excited too. She looked at it and said, “You really think you’re something special, don’t you little missy? Well let me be the first to tell you so you aren’t disappointed – you’re not. Do you hear me? You’re not and you never will be!”

“I’m not?” I asked.
“No – you’re not.” She snarled, ripping my award in half and throwing it on the floor.

Today, 46 years later, I can still feel that moment as if I were still standing in it. I can feel my shoulders curl inward on myself as I think of little me standing there in the kitchen that afternoon, looking at my award on the floor with tears in my eyes, biting my lip so I wouldn’t cry, as I nodded my head in defeat and acquiescence.

I also remember sitting on the floor in the kitchen, watching her out the sliding glass door - watching for the ember glow of her cigarette in the darkness as she sat, alone on the patio drinking her wine – staring silently off into space as tears rolled down her cheeks. I remember her silence as I went out to sit by her, telling her “It’s ok mommy, please don’t cry. Please.” And tried to bring her back inside where I could protect her from the monsters in the darkness.

Please Mommy. I won’t ever think I’m something special again because I’m not. I promise.

And for the most part, I kept my 8 year old promise for a whole lot of years. Way too many years.
Until one day I sat going through a box that held all the achievements and awards and accolades and accreditations and certifications and degrees I had gathered over the years in a futile attempt to be special and enough and tears rolled down my cheeks at the overwhelming sadness.

Because when I made my promise that afternoon, I had no idea what it would cost me over the years. What it would cost us – my mother and I.

The voice asked when it would ever be enough and raising my head from my hands, the woman answered now.

“You really think you’re something special, don’t you little missy? Well let me be the first to tell you so you aren’t disappointed – you’re not. Do you hear me? You’re not – and you never will be!”

“I’m not?” I ask.
“No – you’re not.” the memory of her voice snarls.

I pause in the stillness. Nod my head.

And let the woman I am today break the promise of that scared little girl - let the woman I am today speak the words the child I was then couldn’t. For all three of us.

You were wrong mom, I say gently.  You were so wrong. Because the truth is that I was and am a hundred thousand forms of special. I was born special – I was born to be special. And I am. And mom, I deserved that gold star. I earned it and I deserved it. That teacher saw in me what you couldn’t. And just because you couldn’t see it didn’t mean it wasn’t there. Because it was. It was always there. You were wrong when you said it wasn’t. I want you to know that I know that today.

But more than all that, I want you to know I understand. I want you to know that I know why you were crying out in the darkness that night and Iwant you to know I am so sorry for what happened to you. I’m sorry your special was taken away from you by a mother that had it taken away from her by a mother who took it away too until there was nothing left.  Until you didn't know how to do anything else but take it away from me too.

But mom, even though I understand, I’m not going to allow you to tell me (or yourself) I’m not something or someone special ever again. And I’m not going to tell myself I’m not special ever again. It ends here, now. Not ever again. Ok mom?

I see us both in my mind, looking at each other as my words sink in.  For both of us. And  I see her take my hand and come inside off the patio, all these years later.  Inside to a place where I unfold the darkness -protecting her and keeping both of us safe.

And for today, it is enough.

personal manifesto



Over at "The Sovereignty of a Woman" workshop we're working on our "personal manifesto" this week. 

Creating through aristict expression a statement on our lives - "this is who I am and how I saw the world and this is what's important to me and what I want to leave behind in word, thought and deed" kind of thing.

As a person who struggles with the clutter of my life, I loved the simplicity of this assignment.  And the reminder - reconnecting me with me.

This is who I am and how I saw the world and what's important to me and the life I try to live. 

"My greatest desire in all the world is to hold and be held, to Connect with a capital C. To heal and be healed. To see and be seen. To love and be loved----fully. Completely. Here I am....shouting it out to the world, to all who read or don't read my words. To all who take the time to connect. Or not. I want to love with a capital L. I want to crack wide open all that stands in the way of true Truth and true Love and True Colors."  (Julia Fehrenbacher)

A few months back I met an incredible woman.  A woman so gifted with words - they sometimes make my heart stop in the midst of their beautiful and soul deep expression.  As if her words weren't enough, she and her friend made a video - and if the words and photos from the video don't move you - the soundtrack will.
 
This is Julia - holding and connecting and shouting it out to the world.  Isn't she delicious?

oh yea

My group, "MoonCircle Gathering" starts today over at the ning site, "Being Queen" and although bringing this group online is a bit daunting - I am so excited to be back doing this group again - it is so perfectly (and fittingly) where I need to be!!

Looking back over the last 8 months, I shake my head at some of the things I did and the choices I made.  I can only plead temporary insanity or an alien infiltration - nothing else makes any sense. 

Why else (how else) would or could *I* (yep - ME of all people!) have put aside almost every single thing that fed my hungers and quenched my thirst? 

• I quit doing my morning practice of connection & grounding through prayer and meditation.
• I quit arting and journaling and writing.
• I quit reading poetry.
• I quit taking "Dani" days.
• I quit saying please and thank you.
• I quit doing my groups.
• I started avoiding people.
• I quit finding joy where I used to find joy.
• I quit going to Starbucks on a weekly basis.  

Would you think me shallow if I admitted that what brought me to the full scale awareness of how far I had sunk into funk and how badly I needed an intervention was in my not going to Starbucks on a weekly basis? 

Whatever.  (shrugging shoulders) It takes what it takes y'all.  Take me out of the oven and call me cooked.  I'm done starving and denying myself. 

 In fact I'm sitting at Starbucks as we speak, typing this with a venti latte in hand.  And eating on a slice of lemon loaf.  And my book of poetry is in my bag, waiting to be savored as soon as I finish.

And my group, "MoonCircle Gathering" starts today over at "Being Queen."  WooHoo!!

"Yummy", she says with a laugh, licking her lips.

Life is sweet again and the moon is calling me home.

XXOO