There is only one thing you need to make the most amazing altar ever and that is your awareness. The second thing that’s helpful to remember is that your altar is alive. It is a living growing changing being. It needs to be cleaned, it needs to be pruned, it needs to be you. Your relationships, your struggles, your blessings. Your altar is a physical representation of your energetic and spiritual self, and journey. So give your altar your awareness and watch it grow!

I share two different experiences of doing parts work, one was brilliant! The other less so. But both taught me the importance of recognizing the part that is iron-fisted, inflexible, because they need immediate attention. I also surprised myself by hearing other parts that are so grateful! But their voice wasn’t heard until I calmed and addressed the one(s) with great need. All parts are not equal 😆💛

I realized I have an absurd relationship and understanding of things NOT happening in my life. I think they are loss or failure. But how can something NOT happening be a loss, how can it be taken away, or, how can it be a failure, if I never did it? And how does this thinking keep me from 'making the asks' in my life that lead to connection, creativity, growth, love!

The morning after I found out my rape trial is 'cancelled'... What now? How do I live again? Love again? Relax my nervous system? Think beyond all that I've known for three years? And put down the burden?

Had a call today with the prosecuting attorney. (I didn’t see this coming… even though I have felt for the last few weeks that I just need to live and not worry about the trial.) After 3.5 years, the State of Utah has decided to withdraw the case. They now feel there isn't enough evidence to convince a jury. So. It’s all over…. I’m not sure how I feel. Disappointed. Relieved. Surprised. Weird…

Dying is a process. I takes more than saying words, or feeling emotions, or even enduring the chaos of the mind as its old structures die. It takes a process, day to day to day, the messy, mucky, even miserable. I'm in that process and I want to remember what it's like, so I can be humble when I 'm not. And I want to acknowledge it so anyone else out there in a similar space doesn't feel alone, or weird, or ....anything but perfectly normal!

Well, here goes shame! I am admitting there has been more than one me in here, and possibly more than two, but let's stick with two for today, namely, Jekyll & Hyde. Those two lovables have been here for a bit but I haven't wanted to acknowledge them. So, someone else did it for me. How lucky am I?!

My left hip spoke to me recently, told me that it locked-down 15 years ago because of a misunderstanding, my misunderstanding; I did not understand the situation, my self, others, and healthy responsibility. Today, my left hip is cautiously unlocking. We are talking. I am understanding, and learning. ALWAYS LEARNING!

I have worked my whole life to have healthy, healing, strengthening conversations, the ones which require each person to dwell in the discomfort of their vulnerability, their authenticity. I’m finally doing that. And not just doing it, I’m understanding a few of the keystones which lead up to those moments when hard conversations become something magical, transformational; Like a rainbow becoming raindrops of color, our nervous systems become a dazzling array of possibilities, of new understa...

I am resilient. But not all the time. It happens best when I find the golden thread of my journey, and follow. I don’t just find this thread lying around, I align with it, resonate with it, listen and feel for it. And then, when I find it, I see that I’ve given up all the other possible journeys for this one, for mine, for me in this moment.

After 15 years of having a very active nervous system, and so faithful, like Old Faithful at Yellowstone National Park, I’m done. This is my love letter of farewell to this habitual triggering, and also an invitation to harness all that energy into a symbiotic relationship, a meaningful and productive life. I’m dying to live my purpose again. So, as my mother said, “Take my hand. We go soon.”

I know 'fighting to live' very well. What is new to me is 'dying to live'. I thought it would be a less active process but it requires much of the same, namely, awareness, acceptance, allowance, but with less outward physical, and even mental, actions. I don't think either is better, there is a time to fight and a time to die, and both can lead to new life, they are like mini-deaths along our journey. FYI: I hope you don't solve the puzzle I'm doing before I do!

My grandmother is one bookend. I am the other, or one of them. And it wasn't until I spoke my grandmother's words about my mother, at my mother's memorial service, that I began to understand just how deep the ties are between generations, not simply with parents. And it's beautiful for me to see this continue from my mother to my son. I hope they find the same strength, solace, wisdom and grace that I've found (cultivated!) with my grandmother.

We have many sources of grief and they flow like streams into one pool. When a great loss comes, that pool is given an opening and the waters flow for ALL the streams of grief. We are given the gift of grieving, for not just the current loss, but all the losses, from all the sources of our griefs.

More musings, thoughts, experiences of grief, sorrow, loss, death, and the natural yet overwhelming (at times) waves of these energies, emotions, teachers. The dark purple robes of Sorrow came to me nearly 20 years ago, I know Her well, and have learned to love Her. Sorrow is a Queen among royalty. Truly, the finest of ladies.

A few days before my mother passed, I wrote her a letter. And then she wrote me back - immediately! Such a sweet surprise. I Love You, Mom. Miss you already. Wish you the safest travels. Call as soon as you can, I'm here, waiting...

A novel about humanity, divinity, time, space, and why we do what we do...

“Pressure is a privilege.” ~ Billie Jean King Life is an athletic event, physically, emotionally, mentally, spiritually. To feel, hear, listen, respond, and grow through that pressure is our greatest privilege.

Porcelain Lives lives is a book I began writing in 2015 as I was helping care for my father as he passed from Alzheimer’s. I didn’t realize I was writing a book at the time, I was merely capturing what was happening in my fathers passing, until a few years later I realized I wanted to turn it into a book. I have written most but I’ve been waiting for my mom to finish her journey with Alzheimer’s. Today I share one of those stories.

Porcelain Lives lives is a book I began writing in 2015 as I was helping care for my father as he passed from Alzheimer’s. I didn’t realize I was writing a book at the time, I was merely capturing what was happening in my fathers passing, until a few years later I realized I wanted to turn it into a book. I have written most but I’ve been waiting for my mom to finish her journey with Alzheimer’s. Today I share one of those stories.