1. We’re still here. As Mary Oliver wrote in her poem Invitation: “It is a serious thing just to be alive on this fresh morning in the broken world.” Today I am filled with grief, joy, rage, love, and confusion. And I’m still here. I’m not giving up. Don’t you give up either, kind and gentle reader — we need each other. And I mean this so sincerely, to know that there are others “out there” trying to make things better keeps me going.
2. Practice. More than ever. I hope you have something similar, something that gives you a safe space to process, a soft place to land and a strong foundation, a still moment to be, to feel all the things.
3. Nourishment, comfort, and inspiration, in all its forms. Friends, family, dogs, birds at the feeder, sunshine, snow, the river, the sky, good mail, music, the pool, the sauna, essential workers, first responders, farm workers, medical professionals and staff, vaccines, clementines, fresh baked bread, pay day, podcasts, movies, TV, books, comedy, indoor plants, down pillows and blankets, soft merino wool, my HappyLight, texting with my mom and brother, hanging out and writing with Mikalina, hanging out with Chloe’, reading in bed at night while Ringo and Eric sleep.
4. The internet and the various devices that connect me to it. I get that we have to be careful, that there is risk and danger, but I am sitting here, connecting with you, sharing pictures I took with my phone, listening to one of my favorite playlists on Spotify using my Bluetooth speaker. I can text and Zoom with people I love but can’t see in person, I can access more content than I could consume in ten lifetimes. Etc.
5. Morning walks. It’s so dark out right now that there aren’t as many opportunity for pictures, but even as I say that, we are moving closer to the light.
6. My tiny family. They are my favorite.
Trail monster(s) 
Open Space Practice, (AKA: A Thousand Shades of Gray) 