Monthly Archives: May 2013

Gratitude Friday

lilacs

1. Spring. The green of it, the bird song, baby foxes, blooms, gardening, cool weather and rain, warm weather and sun, sitting in the backyard with the dogs and a book, the rush of the river full and fast with melting snow, the long summer stretching out ahead of me.

This is best picture I could get of the three fox kits — they were playing with some small bodied animal they’d caught, running and pouncing, wrestling and chasing each other so that almost every picture came out a blur, and I could only ever capture two of them at a time.

2. Pie. Yesterday I bought a blackberry and raspberry pie at our local market made by My Mom’s Pies, and it was delicious. Oh my. Pie. *sigh*

3. Beaver’s Market. The local market I referred to above. It totally reminds me of the store where/when I grew up, Ditter’s Store, a small neighborhood market. They are about the same size, and both well known for their meat counter and local products. I don’t buy all my groceries there because they are too small to have a very good produce section, but I go as often as I’m able.

4. Love bombing. Writing a post or a letter that offers support and comfort, buying someone a cup of coffee, having a conversation, really listening, following my first thought, my instinct, my gut, the call of Big Love, being able to spread love, ease suffering. And it goes both ways — I got love bombed this week too, a surprise package in the mail and a “voice mail” that included a ninja poetry reading and a lovely soundtrack.

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5. New tires on my car. To be able to buy them without having to worry about how to pay or how we are going to afford it. To have a husband willing to go take care of the purchase for me, who takes care of me in a million other ways.

Bonus Joy: Another week with Dexter. He’s still happy to be here, loves to eat and take walks and bark at stuff and play and roll around or just lounge in the backyard, all the things that make Dexter who he is. However, his nose is bleeding more frequently and there’s been lots of sneezing and general stuffiness, causing me enough concern that I postponed my trip to Oregon to visit family. Dexter is welcome to stick around as long as he wants (when diagnosed, he was given 2-3 months and it’s been almost 11), I’m even putting a cherry tomato in the back garden so he’ll have his own plant if he’s still around, but we won’t keep him if his suffering gets to be too great. Until then, I am enjoying every minute, filled with love and gratitude for our life together.

Wishcasting Wednesday

fieldofdreams03

Jamie is back wishcasting today, and asks “how do you wish to spend your days?” I want to live inside this question. I love thinking about how I want to spend my time, what I want to do and how I want to feel, but I especially love that my answer is so close to the life I am currently living.

I wish to spend my days…

Awake. In awareness, practicing mindfulness, doing yoga and meditating.

Present and open, deep in basic goodness — wisdom and compassion and strength and gentleness.

Spreading love, making peace, writing love letters, love bombing the whole world.

Expressing creativity and experiencing joy, manifesting love.

Writing while the birds sing outside my open window, fresh flowers on my desk and dogs sleeping at my feet.

Long walks by the river, at the park, in the mountains, noticing all the subtle shifts and changes in those places, connecting with the vibrant life that fills them.

fieldofdreams

Reading in a chair in the backyard, under the shade of a tree, under the vast blue sky, the soft grass under my bare feet and two dogs lounging nearby.

Caring for my home — doing laundry, cooking, washing dishes, sweeping, gardening, all of the things that make the space we live in feel clear and clean, beautiful and safe.

Making Eric laugh, caring for him, letting him love me.

Sleeping, getting enough rest.

Connecting with friends, making friends.

Laughing.

Writing, making art, teaching, being creative and curious, making offerings and being of service.

Easing suffering, in myself and the world.

Opening my heart to all of it — beautiful and brutal, tender and terrible.