Sometimes there's more stretch in us than we think. More reach, more span, more spunk, more try. We don't feel it, or see it, or know it until we need it, until we use it, until we do it. Because there's always more than we see, knit within, deeper, more that's hidden, more that takes effort and work and trouble to find, within us, and within others, and in the world, in the air and smoke and dust around us. What we need is the will to do the work, to find what we need, from ourselves, and our work, and our circle of friends, and our world. Go further, look longer, try harder than the first look, the first answer, the first try. There's more depth, more strength, more power; more kindness and generosity. We have stores of feeling like seldom used muscles, reserves of strength and charity and character which deepen and grown as we need them. When we think we're at the end of a relationship, an era, of our ability to continue, we have to look again. We've probably misjudged the distance, or the situation, or our resources. So we stretch, we strain, we reach again. We look from another angle, another perspective, another state of mind. We change the equation, replace one of the variables, and we find another solution. There's something we missed, something we didn't or couldn't or wouldn't see the first time, obscured by our bias, our stubborn pride, our loneliness, our exhaustion. So we sleep on it. We eat. We sing, we scream, we walk, we change. We refuel and restore and revive. Maybe then the answers, the solutions, the possibilities, the solace, will come. We're not at the End of Everything until we actually, literally, are at the End of Everything; and we don't usually get that information in advance. So it's best to live keep living well until we can't anymore. Carpe Diem, my children, my horsemen, my kinsmen. Until we have no more days to seize, no more time to spend. Sometimes our horses have jumped their fences, but there are still races to run. So we borrow a horse. Sometimes we are dragged around the ring with our left legs hanging from the stirrups. We all fall. We all falter and fail and hesitate. We all are bucked, kicked, bruised, beaten. All we all decide, in those moments that seem to last decades, if we will pull ourselves to our knees, and then to our feet. We all choose, when our lips and noses are bloody; when our teeth are loose, and our eyes are black and swelling shut; when our ears are ringing and our ribs are sore, if we will ride again. I think we should wear our wounds with more pride. They are proof of our efforts, of our strength, of our resilience. We all decide to pull up our boots and pull the brims of our hats back down over our eyes and dust the seats of our pants. We choose to collect the scattered bridle and blankets and saddles, to call for our horses and calm them with our voices, our touch. We lwhistle, and listen for the sound of their canters, the steady breath, the nickers of greeting. We trust them, and ourselves, and the deep mystery of faith, and we ride again. We love, we risk, we run. We jump, we dream, we fly. The wild free joy of flying, the feel of the horses beneath us as we clear the jumps in the path, is worth the fear, the risks of falling, the wounds, and the blood, and the pain. Because there's nothing else like it, the thrill and the speed and the promise of flight. Some words can only be spoken from our seats on the backs of our horses, as we lean over their heads, hands fisted in manes, whispering and laughing and letting go and holding on. Some secrets, some lessons, are theirs alone, to share, or to keep; when we are truly free, when we love our horses and ourselves and each other, and our world full of trees and sky and tall grass and fences. The risk of all we can lose, of all we can find, of all we can mend or break, makes the ride better. It forges and tempers the steel within us, coaxing fires to build and burn, melting and mending, melding organs of courage and defiance. There are some old friends who will be glad to hear from us, always, no matter what sad nonsense might be on our minds, or how long it's been since we've spoken. Cherish them, the ones who always welcome us in and calm us down, with their touch, the voices speaking of nonsense in chorus. We're all tired and sad sometimes. We all speak nonsense at moments. It doesn't mean we haven't grown, or learned, or changed; just because the rhythms of our nonsense are still familiar. I think even as we grow up, and learn, and change; we remain, in some respects, essentially unchanged. Over time, we become more than we once were, yet, also, somehow, we are still as we were. Some challenges are not easily resolved. Some require a lifetime of work and practice and struggle. It's not weakness to keep working, to have to keep working. Some gifts of genetics or fate or circumstance are both blessing and curse, and it takes time to balance between the two, to learn to be more grateful than angry, more enriched and enlightened and empowered than burdened. We are confronted and confounded every day, and we find the strength to cope. Every day, we do better, or worse; we try to be happier than sad, to be stronger and smarter, wiser about living, and kinder. We live with our problems, our flaws, our mistakes as well as we can. Mood disorders. Attention deficits. Permanent disabilities and diseases and damage. We learn strategies and mechanisms for managing so that we can minimize the impact on our lives. We whisper words of serenity. We work hard, and we change what we can, and we accept as little as possible. We establish healthy routines. Counseling. Exercise, physical therapy, eating well and sleep schedules. Support systems and appropriate outlets for frustration and pain. Celebration of milestones. Music and meditation and massage and laughter. Friends and family. It's not weakness to fail, my black-eyed, bloodied-lipped, bruised-ribs friends. Life is a long, bumpy ride, curvy and cavernous, steep and narrow, wide and winding. We can't allow ourselves to be so afraid of the next fall, the next black eye, of what we can't see around the next bend, that we don't raise our faces up, and push our shoulders back, and hold our heads high, unless we're in jumping stance, of course. Whatever may come, whatever inside you bends and breaks, heals and hones, burns and turns, remember this: if you need an ice pack, or someone who speaks Nonsense, or someone to ride beside you into the wind, into the sunset, as you follow the sounds of galloping, gamboling, and scents of fire and freedom, you can always count on me ♥♥♥

I am two sides of a coin. I am the phases of the moon, waxing and waning, three quarters, half, a crescent, all. I am light and shadow, darkness and dawn, time and tears and sand. Dust and dirt, shirt and skirt and sandal. I am fire and rain, water and wine, vice and virtue. Habit and horror. Joy and sorrow. New and old. Bent and spent and spinning. So are we all. Alone and together. Now and forever. Last and fast and past. I am famine and fortune, strength and strife, innocence and agony, weary and wounded and wise. All I despise, all I need, all I hope for. Winning and wonder, strong and fierce, fiery and fawning. I seek, I soar, I streak across the sky in many shades, wearing my fur and feathers. At ease in all weather, purring and panting, growling and grieving, lunging and seething. Resting and waiting and watchful. Running and cunning. One wolf longing for pack and plenty. Feline, feral. Flying on instinct. Leaning, keening, preening. Worlds hidden within, unexpected, unguarded, divine. Lupine, serene in sorrow. The future is ours to make, to break, to lose, to save, to choose. Hope is real. Brief, relentless, unending. A moment, a memory, a chance, dancing in moonlight. Heroes, all of us, in our story, or villains, as we prove. Pennies in the pond. Wishes, fishes, filament. We can save ourselves, my fairies, fearless, fighting for our homes, our hearths, our world, each other. Sisters and brothers. Mist and might, sea and smoke. Leaves and lochs and sky. Weeds and woods. Bees and burr and bog. We have the chance if we take it. The strength if we choose it, the wisdom and power if we use them, in this hour, to save our today, and our tomorrow from the long endless sorrow we sow and wreak and borrow. We are good. We are glad and mad with mischief. We know kindness and suffer from blindness. We are kings and kinsmen, popes and paupers; greedy and needy; hateful and fateful. We are wonder and want, fools and ghouls. whispering to the mighty in the night, toward the sky, hoping He hears us, knowing and unknown, the beginning and the end. I am solitude and solace, silence and sanctuary. Pent and spent, lightning and spark. Heart and blood. Skin and bone, eyelash and ear. Fear and faith, cape and cap and boot. I am child and father, mother and brother, bound and lost and found. We can be more than we are, always, more than we know. We are hope and smoke, and the words of the spell. Hours and showers. Work and faith and fury. We are what we need, now and always; what we try, what we rely on, and what we believe in. We are what we grieve for, what we build and what we break; what we do, and what we save. We are what we sing and sigh and bury. We are what we keep and what we lose and what we've lost. We are the cost, and the counting of pennies. We are what we spend. It's true. We are the world; its best, its worst; its blessed and its cursed; its colonies and its keepers. We will not fail, even as we falter. Hope burns and flames and flickers, earnest and eternal in the turning of our yearning, burning, beautiful globe. Fly and flitter, on butterfly wings, my fairies, and bring peace to your tribes with the dew.

Good morning, Everyone! For this week, I am working on a ghost story, I think. We could all use a break from thinking about the Virus. And the jobs report. Our credit card balance. ( I have High Credit Card Balance Anxiety Disorder. Please don't ask me what's in my wallet.) So get ready to be scared by something other than the actual state of the world. I am, I think, Mary Shelley meets Alice Hoffman meets ee cummings . And I am Windy Many-Words, Teller of Tales and Limping Amateur Witch; Damaryllis, Zombie Goddess....I am fueling up with my Zulu Coconut Coffee in the mug made for me by my cousin, Darrell. I hope you, especially you, Mark Tinker, and Jennifer Gann Pendergraph, and Lisa Carmean, and the LeGrand siblings, and my little brother, Keven, will not be disappointed. And you, Dinamarie Serrano, and you, Heather Kight. And you, Douglas. Picture me scribbling feverishly. No, I don't have a fever, really, just the burning fire of my imagination♥️😃 And to all the rest of my readers .....Be well today, and check in here again later this afternoon, to read and be afraid in the best way :) What dreams dance by, in the moments before midnight, as the moon rises, and night birds fly? Midnight, and crickets sing their lullabies, and leaves and branches sigh, and stir in restless reply? Hush now, my children, and close your eyes, and listen to the story I tell. My words and my magic will ease you to sleep, soft and safe as the blanket under which you lie. Rain falls, and thunder and lightning play in the sky. Crescendo. Staccato. No reason, yet, to fear. I am here, nearby, guardian. Night Watchman of your peaceful slumber. Cinderella, Snow White, my lovely daughters; Arthur, Robin Hood, my brave sons; we go on a journey, by the light of the moon. Before the sun and the morning, we seek our lost companions.....those we love, those we miss, those we see in our dreams

Been Brewing For a While It can be so difficult not to wound as we are wounded, not to react instinctively and hurt as we are hurting. But there is another way. There is another choice. Harder to make, but still within us if we choose to work for it. We can choose what we keep from our past. We can decide what we hang on to, and when we let go. We control not what happens to us, most of the time, but our reaction to it and our behavior. We are always more than how we feel. We bleed and break and blister. But we also heal. We feel, and we fight, and we flounder, all of us fishes, choosing to drown or to swim in all the water which surrounds us. But we also think and speak and sing and change our minds and make plans. Our bruises make us bleed, but bleeding is how we learn compassion and tolerance and strength and kindness, by being in need, and by moving when we're in pain, by still fighting to swim when we're drowning by sips, choking up water mid-stroke. We all want to be better people than we actually, honestly, essentially are, don't we? Better than the people we are afraid to allow ourselves to become in our worst moments? Where do we find them, when we've lost grace, generosity, and kindness? Wnen we search for strength, as we are undone by weakness, by grief, anger, and loss? When we reach for hope, peace, and forgiveness, but they don't rise up inside us so that we can offer them to each other? We when can't even forgive ourselves or look kindly on our own mistakes and errors? What do we do when the waves crashing inside us are our own worst thoughts, impulses, and inclinations, twisting out of control to desperate conclusions? We still know right from wrong, but sometimes we're not strong enough to do it, the right thing. We aspire, we stretch, we reach, but we can't grasp. Our beliefs lack conviction. Our faith lacks fire. It's burned out, with nothing to feed it. Sometimes doing what's right seems to hard, too thorny and knotted and complicated. Because sometimes it requires us to face difficult, painful memories of when we were hurt, or when we didn't act or react with grace, or when we didn't rise above fear or weakness or spite. Maybe we will be required to endure pain again, or to give generously to someone who hurt us, or to treat someone who failed us with kindness and compassion. And we want to be a person who can do that, who will do that, who can be better and kinder and stronger than our histories, than the compilation of our wounds and worries. But sometimes, we're afraid that we're not better. Not kinder. Not stronger. Sometimes we wonder if we're as bad as we fear, as bad as the worst moments would make us. But we're always more than the sum of our worst moments. I can take that worry from all of your shoulders right now. Our worst moments, though they are many, are still just moments, and we are all more than that. We are what we intend. We are what we want and what we hope for, and what we believe in, and what we strive for. We are our ideals. We are what we love and what we dream of and what we fight for. What are what makes us sweat and laugh and cry. We are the songs we write and sing, and what renders us still and speechless and awestruck. We are who we love and old heartbreak and curiosity. As long as we wonder and question and worry about it, we can choose to do better. Be better. Choose to find the fire. Build our strength. What do we do, in those worst moments? I think we have to try to do the right thing, no matter how hard it is. If someone needs us, even in our worst moments of darkness, weakness, and fury, we have to try to be what is needed. Even if we try, and we fail. Even if we don't receive kindness or thanks in return. As much, as often as possible, our actions must come from intentions of faith and grace and courage. That's how we light the fire. That's how we inspire ourselves and each other. That's how we have less to reproach ourselves for, at night when we try to sleep amid the whispering our our consciences. It's up to us, the person we build from the sticks and stones life throws at us, from the bruises they leave us with, from the broken bones and teeth of our faith in the world and its people, from the torn and dirty clothes of our self esteem, our breath of confidence, and the skipping heartbeat of hope. We can be a broken, bitter brew, with the sharp bite of spite and hidden anger, long simmering and dark. Or we can be something else. We can surprise everyone, even ourselves as we steep in the grains of charity and peace, the spices and herbs of joy and laughter which pool in the our deepest caverns and crevasses. If we choose, we can be the cool clear drink of water for the neediness and thirst which surrounds and threatens so many. We can become a brew which combines notes of resilience with a strong nose of kindness and a quiet finish of abiding faith. Faith that comes when we need it, from knowing that doing good, being good, even when it costs, really matters. It makes a difference. Because it makes us different.

 In the strange light cast by the waning Super Worm Moon, the shapes of daily life look different. We have to be different, as uneasy as it makes us. Life is different now. We have to do what we can to flatten the curve and slow the rate of infection. (I didn't even know what that means a few days ago.) There are some events which divide life into Before and After, and I think that’s where we are now. We went to sleep one night recently, as the sound of horses’ hooves blended into our dreams, and we woke up in the time of After. Pandemic. Recession. Isolation. It feels like science fiction, but it’s our new reality. We don’t fight alone. We work together. Social distancing, working on the vaccine, caring for the sick, helping each other with errands. It’s difficult to cage the Beasts of Worry, or at least force them to some useful purpose. Sometimes, I just have to ignore them, pretend I don’t hear them snorting restively beside me. Go Away. Toy with someone else. If it seems as though the Horsemen of the Apocalypse will gallop by at any moment? I think we should send them to trample the permafrost. I read something in the Science blog about how herd animals can protect it from melting as quickly. And then maybe send them to graze in Australia. Maybe they can also help to revive the topsoil damaged by fire. Even if we are young and healthy, we are protecting others by working from home, if we can; by avoiding crowds and cancelling unnecessary appointments. We are alleviating the burden on our hospitals; and on the doctors and nurses who care for the sick, and on the scientists who are working on the vaccine. It’s worth the sacrifice of our usual freedom to come and go, to protect each other. Remember, when you are straining against the new limitations, that our imaginations have no limits. No boundaries can be imposed on our minds and hearts. So how do we occupy ourselves, while we wait, while we adjust to the changes in our daily routines? Exercise. Meditation. Distraction. I do laps around my backyard, and while I am walking I think of Better Things: a vaccine for Covid-19, brownies with pretzels and peanut butter cups filling; a massage and grapefruit margaritas and lunch with my friends on the patio. We will have lunch again IRL as soon as it’s safe to do so. On that Frabjous Day, we will take up the entire patio, there will be so many of us, dancing the Futterwacken. Until then, we must use our imaginations to take us where we cannot presently physically go. Use FaceTime, Skype, Messenger. We can keep up with our school work online. We can bake or give ourselves facials, or rub lavender and rosemary oils into our hair. We can learn a language, learn to knit, learn to podcast, learn to play an instrument with Andy LeGrand of LeGrand Music Studios. Music soothes more than savage beasts. Playing music and musical instruments can ease pain and create new neural pathways in your brain and improve your mood. ( I hope you will all watch my show, when I am ready.) I will make socks and scarves for everyone when I learn to knit. I invite you to come with me, my Fey, my Fairies, my friends, as I use the wings of my imagination. We will have tea with Alice and the Mad Hatter in Wonderland; with Lucy Pevensie and Aslan in Narnia; with Miss Peregrine and her Peculiar Children. We will figure out how a raven is like a writing desk, and how to restore the economy and how to contain deadly microbes. Good stories transport us. When we read or watch movies, the Beasts of Worry pause in their rounds for a little while. The Good Earth, To Kill a Mockingbird. My mom gave them to me when I was recovering from surgery when I was 15. Still two of my favorite books. And Alice in Wonderland. And Peter Pan. And I watched Blazing Saddles and Animal Crackers. I didn’t think I could laugh, sick and in pain and weighed down by the casts on my legs, but I did. And the laughter helped me heal, gave me strength to deal with the pain and the bed sores. So try it. Any good movies will do: A Fish Called Wanda and When Harry Met Sally. About A Boy. Snatch, with Brad Pitt and Dennis Farina and Benicio Del Toro. If it’s the End of the World as We Know It, maybe what comes next doesn’t have to be so scary. Our imaginations can help prepare us for the changes happening all around us, fleet as frightened horses. Fear not, my friends, we will befriend and tame these horses, and learn to ride. We must be the master of our Fears, or we will be mastered by them. Falling from a horse doesn’t usually hurt too much, and the ride is more than worth the price of the fall, most of the time. It's better to live with the wind in your face and the thrill of fear in your throat.

I can't say that I've been happy since I lost my job. It's been difficult, humbling, hard to understand, disorienting. I've worked hard all of my life. I've taken care of myself since I graduated from college. Until now. Laid off. Discarded. It's difficult not to turn those feelings against myself and wonder what I did to deserve it. It's difficult not to question every choice I made, fault myself endlessly for every mistake. I have sought, but failed, to find a new place like the one I had before. In spite of knowing more, bringing more to any new place or purpose. But I no longer seek to regain the place I lost, exactly. I am no longer stuck forever on an endless circle of recrimination. I am making something new. A place I haven't occupied before. Sacrifices have been made. I have less: fewer possessions, less money, fewer choices sometimes. But I also have more: more appreciation for the struggles of others around me, more gratitude for what remains, for the things which no material losses can ever diminish: the bounty which is earned by work and grief and challenge. I am stronger than I knew when I was younger, more foolish, more fortunate. There are places, worlds, horizons, peaks and valleys, which more fortunate minds never seek. There are colors and shades which more fortunate eyes never see. These landscapes have changed me forever, and I am glad. I know that I am still more fortunate than many. It is disorienting, to feel lucky and unlucky in the same breath, but again, I am grateful to be where I am. Experience has made me rich, and I must share. I would not go back. I would not trade my current riches for the certainty I once thought I had. It was an illusion. Very little is certain. My wish is that I can find a way to share my fortune with my fellows; to share my money, my time, my energy, my ideas. I hope that the tide is turning, again, and I can be who I was before, but better. Now I know how easily good fortune can be lost. I will, again, be the girl who helps her friends and her family when they need it; who supports her causes, her earth and its creatures. I am still, and again, the girl who knows which ground is firm, and how to step more carefully across the quicksand and sinkholes Chance scatters before us; to test our balance and try our patience; changing our faces, moving our places, painting our souls with new colors. We then walk some short distance in the shoes of our neighbors. We then feel how unkind the road is when there are holes in our shoes. There are miles to go, poet kinsmen, and many bare feet. We all need to know how it feels, skin against the pavement. What remains is more important. When we lose, we know more fully what cannot be lost. The tides of oceans and shifting continents of fortune cannot destroy us, even as they break our bones and remake us, and set us on new shores. Now, I think, is the time of happiness, and I will feel it more deeply for having long awaited its return. Stay well, my crickets, my chickadees, my bumblebees, my friends. I know we are worried and worn, by news and time and work, by sickness and falling stocks and volatile climates and violence. We will be brave in the days of uncertainty. And bravery is easier to find and hold, burning against our skin, if we seek it together.

Hi, kids. We wake up with a headache. Our cat knocks over our favorite mug and the handle breaks off. Our internet connection is slow, so we delete cookies and restart the router while we make coffee and read the New York Times and take ibuprofen. Good morning. And the world keeps spinning. And fires keep burning. We have a lot to do. Big things, like save the planet, and little ones, like help the kids find their shoes and their lunch boxes and their homework; go to the grocery store and the bank and the office. Do the laundry. Save the koalas. Watch CNN. It's routine, much of it; there's joy in it, too, and we shouldn't ever forget joy, or peace, or gratitude. But there's also urgency and worry and fear. Where there's fear, there's also bravery, resilience, and courage. When we are afraid, in the dark, we spend the currency of our bravery. We worry that all of our coins will be spent in the hours before morning, counting pennies when we can't sleep. I think that’s one worry we don’t have to dwell on, a few pennies we don’t have to spend today: we are braver, stronger, better than we know. We will do what needs to be done. We will find a job, write a novel, run a marathon. We will make cookies in space. (someone did that a few days ago) We will put out the fires. Replant our forests. Collect our seeds. We will perfect the enzyme that eats plastic. Maybe we will invent giant refrigerators to cool the oceans. There's a guy at Harvard right now doing research on the possibilities of injecting different particles into the atmosphere to reflect sunlight and cool the earth. Maybe one of us will have another idea that helps, or part of one. So keep thinking. Keep talking to friends, wives, colleagues, neighbors Keep doodling on napkins and post-its. Sleep. Save our pennies. Eat well. Daydream. Volunteer. All of it feeds the imagination. Anything is possible, when minds and hearts are willing and open. While we are thinking, waiting for inspiration, we can do little things that matter, especially if we all do them: eat less meat, turn down the thermostat, shop locally. Carpool, or telecommute. Video-conference or FaceTime, instead of flying. Let our imagination fly, instead. Who knows where that flight will take us all. Happy Hump Day♥️ And forgive me for any shortcomings: I woke up with a headache today, and my sweet cat broke my favorite mug -- the one I have to drink from, or the tea isn't as good, I swear 😁😀😀

If you are struggling, look beside you. I am there. And many others. You don't worry alone. If you are tired, rest easy. I will help. And all your fellows. If you have to rebuild your life, and you're not sure you can, keep going. Read these words, and take comfort: You can survive. You can change, adapt, thrive. Doubt, but hope. This is my story, but it isn't only mine. The flames, the smoke, the heat. The burning of continents. It was all just in my head, in my eyes, in my nose, in my throat. Because most of my life had burned to the ground. First I literally lost my balance. I was physically battered and humbled. Then my word began to warp on its turning, and I had to learn to live with the dizziness and disorientation. Morally and emotionally challenged, changed, wrecked. I lost much of what I relied on to know myself: my gait, my place, my lousy boyfriend. My friends, my brothers often seemed as strangers due to the new strangeness within myself. My faith, my confidence, my hope, all shaken. My way, suddenly so uncertain and untethered. So I fought to keep these, all these, every day; hanging on to the shreds, the threads in the fabric of myself, the inches, the miles, the fathoms. Sick and sad, but still, I kept fighting and working and walking and hoping, unreasonably, unseasonably, hoping. Always incanting words of prayer of hope, of peace, telling myself it would get better, and I have to move to meet the better days. Never give in. Never give up. Never surrender. Outflanked, but not defeated. Surprised, but not vanquished. Then I lost my job, too. For no good reason. Can't find another one. For no good reason. I am still smart. Still strong. Still fighting. I am standing in the ashes of all I used to have, all I used to be, all I used to believe in. Tested, but not bested. Asking myself what to do next, what to try next. And now my internal continent isn't the one burning. The flames are real. Australia, the Amazon, Portugal, California. We must all be the Firefighters, if we will save ourselves, figuratively, and actually; if we will save our world, and its creatures, its beauty, its bounty, its features, our future. We must be brave, fearless, and hopeful, as darkness and smoke surround us. Undaunted, unburdened, unafraid of what lies before us. Can we restore all that we have damaged and broken and disregarded? Yes, I say we can. I am living in the ashes of who I was before, trying to ignore the smoke. And just live, chastened, wiser, maybe with only the tiniest flame of hope. I am ok. It doesn't feel like it most of the time, but I am. And so can we all be. It will get better, if we do the work. I am trying to create a new life, a better one, even, than the one I had. I am trying to write a novel, to be a better person, to be more engaged and active and hopeful, to be a better citizen of the earth: kinder, more thoughtful, more caring. And I am not alone in any of these endeavors. As I try, so do we all. And that's exactly where the better future begins.

The following post is inspired by my favorite Christmas carols, and everyone who sings them. From Karen Carpenter to Bing Crosby to Nat King Cole to family and friends with more enthusiasm than musical talent.

Bless the beasts and the children. Always, and especially now. Again, now, and again. Tomorrow and tomorrow, and then again. Keep them, and all of us, safe and warm. Merry Christmas, darlings. I am dreaming of old, long-ago white Christmases. White and red and green. When promises and hope, and our dreams for the future were easier to believe in. When we, and our world, were younger at heart, and hope ran stronger in our blood. In my dreams, I am Christmas-ing with you. Oh, holy night. Oh, bright morning, shine upon us all. Renew us, all the stars in the sky. Dawn to dusk. Dark to light, to dark again. Water to wine, to water, again. Again. Help us. Heal us. Lead us on to the work before us. From hope, to fear, to hope again, that we may bring better days to our earth and all of its creatures. If we choose it. If we believe. If we make sacrifices and exercise restraint and judgment; if we act with respect for others and the future. Even the future that will continue on without us one day, the future we choose for our children and their children. Peace on earth, of the earth, in the earth itself. Hear our prayers. Hear our prayers, Father, broken as they are by worry, fire, famine, disease, and our own distraction. Heal our wounds, even those we have inflicted on ourselves. Have mercy on us, Father. We can do better. Give us our daily bread. Forgive us our trespasses. We can forgive each other. We can help each other. Show us our better selves. We can face our future together. Bless the beasts, and the children; the oceans, the fishes, the leaves on the trees, the firmament we stand on and must care for. Merry Christmas. We have this moment, this chance to do the right thing for each other and everyone. Bless the beasts, and the children; the sky, the moon; the wind and the water. Peace on earth, now and always. Amen.

Morning Meditation

Calling, calling, falling, stalling. Calling out. Calling on the balance and benevolence living in the universe. Calling out to my courage, my convictions, my imagination. Imbibe, imbue, energize, endow. Bring to me with my incantations good fortune, good judgment, generosity, kindness. Give in, let go, shout out. Forgive. Begin. Grow. Shine. Be still. I stand in the collective shine of all these. Drink. Ease. Soak in. Absorb. I am what I dream, what I think, what I allow, what I believe. Moments matter. This one. This one brings peace, wisdom, willingness, if I wait. I am. I have. I try. I hope. I am hope. Possible. Probable. Actual.  Gradual.  There is enough.  I am enough.  I abide.  If life has disappointed us, if we are disappointed, dwelling on, dwelling in our disappointments, how do we resolve that into joy?  How do we loosen the ropes of sadness and worry coiled around our feet so that we can step free?  Become lighter, brighter, easier.  I think we have to honor the person we were, even her mistakes, bad decisions, foolish gambles, whims. She is still with us, and that's good.  Consign, confine her to the past.  The best farewell we can offer is in our readiness to face the future as though we've never felt heartbreak or disappointment.

I dream of a world where there are no mass shootings. No tsunamis. No microplastics. No starving polar bears or melting glaciers or hungry kids or homeless veterans. Come on. It's possible. If we all want it enough, and hope for it and dream of it, and work toward it. Lean into it and reach for it. It's possible. If we care about each other enough. For each other enough. It's just possible. Rhetoric is powerful, especially in the wake of tragedies, when we are searching for answers and in need of comfort. But I think it's important to express the emotion behind the words. It's important to speak and act with care. All people are complex and complicated and contrary. We are all more, and less, than our race, creed, or religion; our color, our sexual orientation, or our place of birth. We are more alike than not. No matter what anyone says, there is more that brings us together than divides us. Men and women. Mothers and fathers. Brothers and sisters. Husbands and wives. We are each capable of surrendering to our vicious or violent thoughts or impulses. What makes us civilized is that most of the time, we do not surrender. We choose to be better than the thoughts we think or the fleeting impulses we have. . We can find constructive acceptable ways to spend our energy and emotions, rather than allowing them to explode out of us in rage against ourselves or others. We are all angry sometimes. All sad sometimes. All out of control sometimes. All lost sometimes. In our worst moments, what choice do we make? Please, if you are struggling with anger or depression or pain, first, you are not alone. I struggle too. We all do. There's a lot of pain in life for most people. Pain can make you a better person, or a worse one. It's a choice we all make. Please stop. We have to choose to be our better selves, instead of acting out in pain or anger, instead of being driven by our worst, smallest, meanest instincts. Break the tide of your anger. Stop the momentum. Get up. Call your mother, your brother, your BFF, your therapist. Yell your head off. Play some music. Dance around your room. Punch a bag. Go for a run. Take a shower. If you feel overwhelmed, please ask someone for help. Please if you are struggling with anger or depression or pain, and there are guns in your house, ask for help. Get rid of them. Go stay with a friend, or somewhere safe, for a few days, and get rid of them. There are ways to turn them in safely. I will dream of the better world until it happens for us all. It's more than possible. The first step is the random act of kindness. Can we all do one random,  kind,  spontaneous thing tomorrow? Maybe for a slightly odd kid who hasn't learned yet to appreciate oddity in himself. Maybe for someone who's lonely or hungry or hopeless. Change someone's day, and maybe you change someone's life. I know with each act of kindness, you will change yourself and your own life. Let tomorrow be the Day of the Butterfly Effect.  Fly around the world for us, Butterflies! Dios te bendiga

And then there's the other part of taking care of ourselves and each other:  If you see something, say something.  If someone you know is suddenly quieter or angrier or sadder, ask him about it.  If the answer doesn't seem right, or things don't get better, tell someone who can help.  A parent.  A teacher.  A counselor.  Being a kid is hard.  Being an odd kid can be harder.  It can take decades to appreciate oddity in yourself.  We all have to look out for each other.  Lead each other over the rough spots

Bad weather is inevitable. We all must endure the sting of rain as it finds the chinks in our armor. But even the worst storms end. At times, the rain seems endless, relentless. At times, it feels as if we cannot outlast the seasons of rain in our lives. But we can. We do. We will. It's just water. And we can all learn to swim. And remember, water makes us grow. Water changes us. Life is, in its simplest elements, swimming lessons. Decades of swimming lessons. If you're in the middle of the exercise where you're thrown into the deep end, fully clothed, and everyone watching from the side of the pool expects you to undress and turn your pants and shirt into inflatables while treading water, don't panic. Don't fight the water. Remember your lessons, take a deep breath, and keep swimming.

Water, fire, earth, air.

There is a meeting place in each of us: the small, quiet square of peace where God joins us, when we invite Him; where our strength and fortitude rise up to meet the challenge and quell the disquiet of our daily lives. We should all begin there, and return there. Defiance is uncomfortable. We are uneasy with it. But I think quelling that discomfort, hanging on when we most want to let go, and fighting the inclination to retreat, that's the way forward in times of trouble. That's when we truly make discoveries, nurture, create, succeed. Listen to the voice inside you that leads you further, pushes you over obstacles in your path, even if, especially if, it's the quiet one you have to strain to hear. Disregard the noisy chorus of all your doubts and fears: your insecurities may feel like family, but they do not befriend you. They do not serve you. Be fearless, even if, especially if, you must pretend. The pretense will become genuine after some small acquaintance, and you will have remade yourself.  Change yourself, and you change the world, little by little, note by note, step by step.  Go or stay.  Try or not.  Ride or die.  Choose.  And the fear fades away, a little further, each time you ignore it.  Instead, what you wear readily, easily, with insouciance, is defiance.

We are so often judged, as we judge ourselves, harshly, and based on old experiences and older mistakes.  But the past is only half of who we are.  The past doesn't allow for the possibilities inherent in the future.  The past doesn't include the work that defiance will do to scrub and shine and refinish.  So anyone who judges us only by what we have done before misses a lot, and misses the opportunity to know what might be newest in us.  Maybe remember this when you meet someone, or meet an old friend you haven't seen in a while, and allow yourself to be surprised. We have miles to go, my friends

Are you familiar with the Cherokee fable of the two wolves?  I used to think I was part Cherokee, because of a relative named Sarah Hawke, but my dad says no, not according to Ancestry.com.  I still feel like a Cherokee, if that's ok.  Can I be an Honorary Cherokee? Who do I need to call? Maybe sending a smoke signal would be more appropriate?

An old Cherokee man is trying to teach his grandson about life.  The perennial fight going on in each of us is between good and evil.  Will you be ruled by the wolf of joy, peace, love; hope, serenity, humility; kindness, benevolence, empathy; generosity, truth, compassion, and faith;  or will you give in to the wolf of anger, envy, sorrow; regret, greed, arrogance; self-pity, guilt, and resentment?  The grandfather says,"It is a terrible fight."  His grandson wants to know which wolf wins.  The grandfather tells him, "The one you feed."  So here is where we will feed the wolf daily.  Breaking news in food science or health.  Or just information I think you need to know, in order to feed the Better Wolf inside you. 

There will be days when you are not sure that your Better Wolf is winning.  That's the nature of the struggle:  the strength of our conviction must constantly fight the multitudes of our doubt.  We are all a walking congress of faith and screaming anxiety.  That's why we must feed our conviction and sustain our will.  I still have those days too, but fewer of them than I used to.  Maybe we can all keep learning how to win the daily fight against the Worse Wolf.  Some strategies are much more effective, and less costly, than others.  Like alcohol.  It isn't an effective pain reliever.  Its relief is fleeting, and too much of it causes real damage.  And just reflect for a moment on all of the bad decisions it has lead you to make.  The older I get, the less it seems to be worth it.  The headache afterwards, the lapses in judgment which often accompany it.  Be sure, if you use it, that you don't rely on it too much or too often.    Be wary, if it feels as if you need it.  Use your other weapons first.  Try wearing these tequila essentials tennis shoes I just found from Skor.  Maybe just having the pictures of a shot of tequila in a salted glass with a lime on your feet will be fun and make you feel better, without having to actually drink.  Some people shouldn't drink at all.  The reasons can be physical or medical, or emotional or pyscho-social.  Know yourself well enough to realize if you are one of them.  If you need help, ask for it.

 Exercise, routine, healthy food, intellectual and social engagement, meditation all will serve you better, and you will more often be your Better Wolf if you rely on them instead.

Scientists think they have discovered that plants have a language, and that they communicate with each other, like in Avatar.  We need Sigourney Weaver to teach us the language.  Obviously, we need to have a conversation with Giant Hogweed and Wild Parsnip.  These two plants can cause severe burns, if you touch them, and even blindness, if you get the sap in your eyes.  They grow very tall and wide, with little white flowers.  Please be careful out there.  Take gloves, and don't touch anything if you're not sure what it is.  Several people have already ended up in the burn unit, with permanent scarring.  These two plants are already in a larger territory than initially.  All it takes is a bee, or an animal, or the wind.  Maybe it is because I watched the Mist very early this morning, half asleep, but it seems as though more people are being bitten by brown recluse spiders and disease-causing mosquitoes and ticks and attacked by bobcats and coyotes.  It feels allegorical to me, because we have treated the natural world so carelessly for so long. Flora and fauna have an intelligence we dismiss at our peril, and they are finally beginning to fight back.

 Reflections on Failure:  We must be willing to lose everything we have but hope, and we're more likely to win; and we've already won back our esteem even as we accept a new dare each morning.

Don't be ashamed of your failures.  Only give in to shame and what it tries to tell you about yourself when you stop trying to make amends for your failures. Only when you don't get up when you fall.  Only if don't try again when you fall short.  Never stop expecting great things from yourself, one footstep at a time.  Sometimes you will run like the wind, and sometimes you will crawl.  Don't make crawling even more difficult by being ashamed.  Sometimes the most you can ask of yourself is that you don't give up.  When you have nothing left, have hope.  When you are sure that you know nothing, only know that things can change at any moment.  If this moment is your worst, hold on, breathe; and things may be better in the next.  Never be hindered by the past.  If it doesn't guide you, inform or inspire you, breathe; and then let it go.  If you practice peace, even imperfectly, then restlessness is easier to quell. Breathe.  If you practice faith, imperfectly, shame is more likely to fade.  If you practice hope, imperfectly,  dreams are more likely to thrive.  Peace, faith, and hope, these are the fertile seeds of infant wishes.  It is my Christmas wish for us all, that these seeds will thrive. Thrive, and remake the world.  

I live with loss and regret and failure and shame.  Probably most of us do, to varying degrees.  When I was young, I believed my life didn't have to be different from my brothers' and my sister's.  I believed I would find a way to have every good thing I wanted, even if I had to work harder and wait longer for my blessings to arrive.  I regret that I didn't find a way to make it happen.  I tried.  I am still trying.  And now I have to find a way to live with my regrets, so that I can make something worthwhile from the rest of my life, from what is left, from here, from now.  I may only be half-way through, please God.  The corridors of my mind are lined with the unpaid freight of my disappointments.  I have hoarded small, fragile hopes all of my life, storing them away for the better times.  Believing they might only thrive in unexpected beams of sunlight.  But waiting for better days can become a way of life; it can teach us to tamp the flame of joy in life. It can rob the present day of its imperfect beauty.  Better days don't come easily if we are always watching for and waiting on them.  Maybe we all should start trying to improve the day we have presently.  Be more present.    How much better could it be, would it be, will it be, if we stay here, work here, now?  Dreams just may be hardier than we know.  Maybe they even require some uncertain weather.  Maybe we only realize their value, the strength of their virtue,  as they are tested.  All of them won't survive.  But the best of them will, if we know how to keep them.  The moment comes when the waiting has to stop, or all we will ever do is wait.  Let the flame burn as bright as it will, even as it may burn.  Burns heal.  The time is now.  To change, to work, to dream, to hope.  No small hopes anymore.  I will hope with all my strength:  I am hope, ignited. I want to be the girl I once imagined in my wildest dreams.  I have to be a girl who still has the wildest dreams.  The girl who risks disappointment every day, to dare, to defy, again, to dream.  To paint the sky with all the fire hope ignites.  No more hiding.  I learned many years ago that hiding doesn't serve.  To try to hide the part of myself who crawls is to deny the larger, better part of me who flies.  Why did I let myself forget?  A safe life is never the one I wanted.  And safety is an illusion, in the end.  None of us are safe from the vagaries of life, regardless of what shelter we build.  So, more sky, less ground,  from now on.  We all need room, and permission, to fly.  Promise never to stop spreading our wings.  Promise.  Falling isn't fatal.  It hurts, and we heal.  Let's all do better at keeping the promises we make to ourselves.

Shame is a difficult feeling to live with.  It can eat away at our peace of mind, disturb our dreams, distract us from our work, even ruin our health.  But feelings change, all of them.  Sometimes by the moment, and at times, over the passage of years.  But we can master them, even the most unruly, unwieldy emotions.  In the moments when we are most deeply ashamed and failure looms so largely that it feels as if we've never succeeded, as if we never will succeed, just remember.  Just breathe.  And just remember this:  our perceptions, our strongest feelings, can mislead, manipulate, and deceive us.  We think most clearly when we are calm.  So breathe.  Think.  Remember one peaceful moment in life.  Go to one thing, one person in life who grants peace and inspires hope and revives courage.  It can be anything, anyone.  A friend who stands beside us when everyone else looks away from the untidiness of our emotions and the mess we have made in the storm.  Storms pass, even the strongest winds eventually blow themselves out.  Breathe.  Think.  Remember.  Maybe it's the love we feel for our little brothers, the one known constant value in the changing quadratic equation that is life.  Remember.  And breathe.  Think.  Know that we can solve any problem.  The solution may take time.  It may surprise or confound us.  The solution may change everything, and we may need a little help.  But help is all around us, even as the spectre of failure drives us deeper inside ourselves and away from others.  Those people we move away from to hide our shame, those people probably care more about us than we can know.  Just one moment of hope, one breath, one memory, one blessing; and shame begins its transformation

We take too much for granted, and we live too much on the surface.  We are too irritated by things that don't matter, and wilfully blind to and careless with what we should value most.  Let someone have your place in line, and the last chocolate biscotti.  Starbucks will make more.  Give your old coat to someone who's cold, your sandwich whose flavor you couldn't describe, even as you thoughtlessly chew,  to someone who is hungry.  You will be as warmed by giving it as he is in wearing it. You will feed the better wolf inside you as he eats.  Have you forgotten him, your better wolf?  He is still there, waiting for you to remember.  He will transform your life as you tend to him, as you remember, as you act.  We are too attached to the things we accumulate or those we covet; too invested in the easy perceptions we have of ourselves.  I am more than the job I used to have.  I know that, but it doesn't feel like it is true.  I am so untethered by its loss.  It wasn't even a really good job.  It wasn't ever the job I should have had, but somehow, a while ago, I stopped moving toward a better one; even as I worked harder and harder and harder.  So much of my faith was broken, when one of my oldest, dearest friends died of cancer; when my faithless boyfriend ruined my trust and broke my heart; when people who should have known better treated me badly and made me feel ashamed of needing a walker, of my unbridled emotions, of my mistakes.  I am more than the way I walk.  I know that, too, but I felt ashamed of losing my sense of balance and the truest sense of myself. If I hadn't faltered,  I might have behaved  with more grace.  Why is the smallest thing the one that seems to matter more than all of the others?  The most important thing is who we are, how we behave, in our worst moments.  What do those moments bring out in us?  Can we be proud of our unguarded hearts, our broken spirits?  Or will we have even more regrets because we allowed pain to make us smaller and harder and so angry we light up the space around us?  Maybe, if I had been stronger, I could have changed the way things ended.  Maybe I would still have that job, or another one.  I am trying to find my way, to find a reason for all of the losses and trials and tests.  I am stronger, now, having walked many miles on my private Trail of Tears.  The trick is to use new strength to build something better.  Better home, better person, better life.  Things aren't better yet, but they will be.  Now is not the time to falter.  It can seem impossible, just to hope, when hopes have not been realized in the past.  But lean in, my children:  the winds may favor, and possibilities are at hand.  We can only rise up to meet them with gladness.  Have faith in the workings of fate.  All will be well in the end, even as we are tested in the meantime.  Hang on to our girlish hearts, even as brand new strands of grey catch the light in our hair and lines write on our faces.  Even as we are not who we once were, physically; in all other ways, more important ways, we must be better than we once were.  As time reworks our bodies, we should use time to rework our will, to hope for and dream of finer things.  We are not as we once were.  But we can be better.  Wiser, kinder, patient with each other.  Keep  faith in the future we create when we just believe that anything is possible.  Older bodies must keep their young hearts, my dears.  That is how we keep our youth alive.  What is valuable in us is not in or of our bodies; not in or of the clothes we wear, or the cars we drive, or the houses we live in.  If we once knew this, we may have forgotten.  So I challenge all of us to remember, and to value ourselves and each other differently.