When gifted with rest the day breaks with the energy to enjoy it to the fullest. Rounding the meadow she appears, the morning goddess, opening her sunbeam arms to welcome me in all her glory, making me smile as the beauty unfolds.

The difficult days after a hard night offer greater appreciation of days like these, the unusual July with cooler nights than the norm, when the sun’s warmth meets the dewy earth yielding mysterious fogginess vaporously dancing across the creek. The world is mine filling me gratitude and peace.


A mourning dove coos,

The rooster crows,

Sharp edges soften,

As I come home.

While the pale of dawn softens the night sky, and kitty scouts the porch from one screen to another following a bird, the candle all lemony wafting upward with the flickering light, my shoulders drop relaxed, and they haven’t been that way for too long of a time in this glorious burst of summer splendor.

Some things taking me away from myself to the land of worry, upset, and removal from my home- internal and external. Sleep deprived, sad, displaced, worried about all that cannot be controlled, and making up more as the rat brain gets moving faster in my head.

Then answers come, the answer is that there is none. Just live. Live with love, gentleness, and grace. Mostly with yourself, all else flows from there. Live as the person you were meant to be. Feel her inside, the power, beauty, and soft flowing energy. Live now, because each moment comes then is gone. Live.


Peach pie, Samuel’s roses, and peonies-
what more could a woman want? (ice cream?)

Something as innocuous as jumping into the pool for the first time this summer can upset my rather delicate nervous system so that sleep would not come that night.  It was 5:30 in the evening, and something inside me warned me.

Even a joyful physical activity at that time of day sets off the PTSD rockets. After 3PM it is time to settle down as it’s to my benefit to go to bed with birds and wake with them. (sometimes before them) My body seems to work best this way.

And sleep wouldn’t come the next night either. There is an ability now to accept these upsets because a day like today brings me back home where equilibrium reigns.

The birds sing to me, the chipmunks play, the quiet at the creek absorbs me totally in joyful peace, though my eyes water a bit at the damage done in childhood that could still bring these challenges.

And not only for me, but every little girl growing with these secrets into adulthood. There is a very deep wish to bring it to light, to open the tombs of silence. To stop the plague of men touching children in ways they should only be touching their adult partners.

But also the silence. We are not to talk of it because you find it too hard to hear. That causes life-long damage. Hear us. Believe. Care.

But the best I can do is live as best I can. And I am so thankful for this time where joy comes with the land, my sons, and my dear spouse, but especially the miracle of being connected to my own soul.


Mother’s Day is a good time to thank my sons for being the extraordinary human beings that they are and continue to work at becoming.

How lucky a mother am I!

Their traits, though differing in likes, tastes, past-times, and interests, are so similar in the ways that matter; deeply compassionate, a strong sense of self, hard-working, perseverant, morals of high character, loving, generous, broad minded, tolerant, and possessing great depth.

I could go on as they exemplify all that a mother could want in a son. Thank you, dear sons, for being the men that you are…

Worried, Weary, & Grateful

Son’s new, NEW, van, hit by a deer. Would sleep return after using the bathroom? No. Worries, then more worries as everything looks bleak and disastrous in the black of night.

But getting up or using a sleep aid is not an option, self-discipline is. And that is being honed more than ever. So, stay. Stay till some traffic begins to go by, and is that a bird or wishful thinking?

Because worries cause restlessness, and this time, despite a few hours of committing myself to stay still, sleep doesn’t return.

And yes, that is a bird. A lovely start to a day with the chorus of birds through the open door even though a bit weary. There are still many grateful gifts to celebrate.


Winter’s oppression bears her weight down drooling with icy fangs into the flesh of my spirit. It seems impossible to pick myself up, yet each morning- a fresh start, a new day- what are you going to make of it?

Not much. With a retired life, the buzz of work, kids, and getting anywhere at a required time do not demand my energies. So? Breathe, sit and breathe, and remember the mantra of ‘you’re OK’ from one moment to the next.

Because a fear filled life due to PTSD unresolved since such a young age causes a fright reaction to every little noise startling my being into an adrenaline overload. Decades of that tires and burns out all bodily systems.

So…? Who is criticizing you if you ease your spirit (and anxiety) by completing a puzzle in day? Only me. Resting, and/or sending compassionate messages to self while moving slowly to stay present and in the moment are worthy of doing.

Anxiety ruling much of my life caused me to buzz past the present moment, rushing to be done. But now, with reminders to self, peeling apples for the overnight crockpot of steel cut oats becomes restful not rushed. The sound of the knife splicing through, the cool fresh apple in my hand with its light aroma from the juice…

Each task slows so that my being stays in my body. All that occurs in that moment is better absorbed when attention is paid to it. And when that occurs, one can’t mourn the past or worry about the future, and that is living fully with grace and gratitude.


One night sleep, the next awake at 3AM. Giving an hour for a return to slumber, that torture was abandoned for an early rise, a VERY early rise.

My mind wouldn’t slow down about all the things to improve, all the failures or missteps, or misunderstandings. Because many upset relationships, or the failure to move closer for more sustenance are because people do not talk about their feelings. They are played out theatrically by those shallow enough to act that way.

So up, let the cat out of her room, and begin my day. My body isn’t healing fast, but each day there are noticeable improvements. The feelings after lying there in my pillow are, ‘get your shit together.’

Winter is dooming me, drowning me, making me go back to the days when everything about myself is questioned and scorned- with confidence below zero like the weather. Get a grip!

Warm summer days, grassy meadows, and sunlight… dream on…


As families gather on this special day, my being does too, all  parts making a whole. That doesn’t occur all day everyday as little things cause chaos, or too much stimulation. But today?

Gratitude. As laps are completed hoping to metabolize the medication needed at 2AM due to sleep issues, the air so still though grey and damp, the talk to myself is out loud with no neighbors to hear this strange woman ruminating to herself.

The stillness is so loved, as wind does not invite internal gathering. Prayers in the night to mother nature/the universe are answered, maybe not in expected ways, but if one is looking, they come.

Mine came after lap ten when the sun peeked out momentarily, and the extremely shy heron unaware of my presence. I was miraculously able to obverse the hunting process nearby as she waded ever so slowly in the shallower part of the water and snatched up her dinner.

There is great joy and peace in the land and her beauty. Gratitude flows as families around the nation come together, and I am able to gather myself like a newly grown bouquet even after a tough night.


Waking after another rough night up too late, having to take something, my first thought? Why not be grateful? Instead of sitting a good part of the day in grogginess, snapping at Samuel so much he stays far away from me, why not turn it around?

Out walking early helped to metabolize the drug, also adding the benefit of uplift once the happy chemicals kick in. Instead of it being penance for eating off anxiety in the night walking rigidly just to get it done, the walk was paced slowly enough to suck in the heavenly scent of wet earth and decaying leaves.

Round and round noticing the aroma which goes straight to my core, a squirrel surprised jumping to the next tree, the crunch of nuts under my feet. And Samuel? We sat, laughed, and chatted over morning coffee, a miracle, because usually after a bad night which of late is too often, no company is wanted…just leave me alone.

But be grateful, the mantra while walking. Why not? There is an ability to waver one’s attitude to a more upbeat tilt. It includes acceptance that my body will do this no matter how many healthy habits are incorporated into my day.

A life of daily terror to my body because fear was around every corner took its toll. Not fighting it or blaming myself for not controlling it is a start. Gentleness swept in.

While walking on a crisp damp day the thought of rewards for this effort included a lavender Epson salt soak in the tub and a pot of ginger vanilla chamomile tea. The day went much better, from a blob on the couch to living it fully.


A gentle, peaceful way to start the day, sipping fresh brewed rich dark coffee on the screened porch, centering in on feelings hoping to reach my core without slants, twists or turns. But often that is a no go, hyped up on something else besides calm and peace, disconnected from myself.

One day to the next can be so different. Yesterday’s realization that fall’s downward mood is already invading, but then the surprise of a subsequent ability to find solace inside, because the granite yielded to kindness. Today? Different feelings.

As the mother and white spotted baby deer nibbled grass in the early morning misted meadow, feelings come that rise above self, encompassing more than just that. An expansion. Opening to it, peace fills me, comforting my often chaotic interior, and with those gracious feelings…gratitude.