love hard, love fierce

our work is 
building community
making love in a world 
without gun violence
without sexual assault
without prejudices
with my imperfect self
i see into this creek
so very clear
a living foundation 
mindful of what matters
connection with others
as our authentic selves
makes for solid friendships 
for our work is listening
truly paying attention
is a most wonderful act of kindness
supporting each other to be our best
nurturing our children to be their best
so that we can tell them, 
yes, simple goodness 
has a natural rhythm 
in our world


It's raining apples

this morning's mindful stretchi imagine my loved ones
alongside me 
my feet flow
along the earth
raindrops keep fallin' on my hood
thoroughly soaked
leaves fallen in love 
turn mid-stream 
into fallen apples --
flashes of golden delicious,
pink lady,
& maple crisp


How wild it is, to let me be

My daily hike-runs keep me sane. I alternate between two local lakes, Lake Royal and Burke Lake. I do my two rounds totaling 4.4mi at Lake Royal. I promised myself before year's end, I'd hike Burke Lake's 4.7mi loop by myself. I usually circle halfway around and turn back, meeting my at-least-three-times-a-week if not everyday, a little over four miles. 

A couple of days ago, I did it. I. DID. IT. The entire Burke Lake. I have to admit, that last .3mi seemed a little more alone than it needed to be. Especially when I have my partner's worries hanging over me. Are there other people on the path? Did you bring the red bag (fanny pack with the bear spray)? I run into patches where a most welcome silence greets my morning monkey brain. What I savor most about my mindful hikes is going to my place of Alone, where I can be . . . just me. My customary woodsbath soothes me as does treading for miles with no other reason to experience that I am powerful. In that moment, I bear witness to my very own wild like Cheryl Strayed.

In my place of Alone, I exercise my emotional courage. I say a prayer for a newly eloped cousin and his love. Most recently I wander through holiday memories of loved ones, usually my Dad or best friend who are way beyond the fall's oyster blue sky that hovers above the deep roots that remind me to be brave and to keep rising up. 

So tomorrow once again, I will rise up . . . rooted.