1. Morning walks. It has been over 100 degrees for the past few days and in the upper 90s the ones before that, so getting out to walk in the early morning before it gets too hot has been extra nice.

2. Good healthcare. This is born out of big disappointment in how awful healthcare is where my other family live. People have to wait way too long for just about everything, mistakes get made, some necessary things aren’t considered or offered or even available, and more suffering is generated where there’s already too much. It’s so disheartening that my dog has better access to care than most of my human family does. That said, it makes me even more grateful for the access, opportunity, and support I have. Also, in related news, I’m seeing an acupuncturist next week to hopefully get some measure of relief from my hot flashes, which I told my primary care doctor should be called “hot splashes” because I sweat SO much when they happen.

3. Air conditioning. I know there are still a lot of people who resist it or think it’s bad, who even feel somehow morally superior because they don’t have or use it, but with global warming and climate change, it’s becoming as essential as having a heating source or refrigeration for our food, and I’m so glad we have it in these long summers where 95+ is just a normal day. I’m also grateful for power grids that can support and sustain our choice to use it, and the whole house fan and inside blackout curtains and outside bamboo shades that help us not need to use it so much.

4. Rest. The past few weeks have been tough and I realize that things won’t get any easier any time soon because “life is always life-ing,” so I’m so glad that I can rest when I need to — which is a lot, and that I have a safe, quiet, cool, comfortable place to do so.

5. My tiny family, small house, little life. Having the company and comfort, making each other laugh, loving and being loved, hugs in the kitchen, cuddles on the couch, sharing food, the way Ringo smells, the weight of Eric in bed next to me.

Bonus joy: a visit with Chloe’, plantain chips and dip (I have a problem…), herons, other people’s dogs, fans, listening to podcasts, documentaries, fiction, grapefruit Bubly water, being able to make appointments online or using an app (i.e. not having to call), the pictures Chelsey sent, texting with Chris, sharing reels and memes with Carrie and Kari and Shellie, everything my brother does for my mom, my niece’s ability to mother both her own kids and her grandma so well when she didn’t get that from her own mother, the sticker H. gave me that I’m going to put on my next notebook, texting with Eric, taking care of each other, making each other laugh, hugs — you know the kind where you really mean it?, watching TV, listening to music, meditating, the pool, the hydromassage chair, training with Shelby and the gang, sitting in the sauna (where I never complain that it’s too hot), how Eric likes to sit in a lawn chair in the backyard even when it’s hot out, how excited Ringo got seeing a cat this morning, how he always checks for racoons in the canal up the road from us and insists on turning to walk down that one street because he knows the woman who lives there puts treats out for dogs, the tiny barn sparrows by the bridge this morning, the Merlin app I use to identify birds by their song (it’s seriously so cool), dog adoption, animal rescue, the way the river smells mixed with the dry grass, all the things that are in bloom, how quiet it is early in the morning, seeing the sun rise, the honey locust that is still there even though for years Barb threatened to take it down, the blooms on our golden raintrees and how much the bees love them, naps, reading in bed at night while Eric and Ringo sleep.    

1. The Central Oregon Coast. It really is one of my favorite places on the planet, even though I don’t think it’s somewhere I’d ever be able to live all four seasons. I’ve come to realize over the years that the longer I go without seeing the ocean, this particular stretch of coastline, the more brittle I become. I NEED that force, that connection, that return in order to keep going without breaking. The food, the landscape, the light, the sound, the smell, the wildlife, the water and the woods — all of it is essential for me.

Ringo didn’t feel great on this trip. So, there was a lot of napping and resting that he needed, just like we did. He also spent a lot of time looking out at the water just like us. That said, he’s actually a pretty great dog to travel with.

2. Veterinary care. As I mentioned, Ringo didn’t feel good on this trip. In fact, just a few days before we left, we had to drive 1.5 hours to the nearest emergency hospital because he had another bought of hemorrhagic gastroenteritis, and we knew we couldn’t wait to treat it, didn’t want him to crash during the three days we were driving towards home.

Once back home, I took him to see his regular vet, who is SO good and loves him SO much, (she has cattle dogs of her own). She helped us to rule out a few more things (bloodwork shows a Vitamin D deficiency) and gave us a recommendation for another vet to consult.

Dr. Foster specializes in acupuncture and nutritional support, a mix of Eastern and Western wisdom approaches. With her help, we are healing Ringo’s wonky belly and treating his arthritis and anxiety. I feel hopeful about his health for the first time in a long time and I’m so grateful, to her and Ringo’s whole team, which also includes Red Sage Vets.

3. Reading. I brought a big box of books over from my mom’s house, as she no longer reads and wanted to clear out her bookshelves. Since I was off social media, I read A LOT, and was able to leave some books behind. I’m starting to think I’m either really lucky when choosing or am easily pleased, because it seems like 95% of the books I read are SO good!

4. Good food. We discovered a new favorite in Waldport, the Fishmongers Food Truck, and we also ate at some old favorites, like Mo’s and LeRoy’s Blue Whale (the BEST pancakes) and of course Depoe Baykery. I also realized while I was there that when I am stressed out and don’t know what else to do, I cook and feed people. I made three cakes, three batches of cookies, two baked zitis, chicken noodle soup and biscuits.

5. Home. Both of them, Colorado and Oregon. This time visiting Oregon came with its own struggles, its own tenderness. A big thing is it seems pretty clear my mom has developed vascular dementia due to her stroke, and will eventually, maybe sooner rather than later, need more care than we can provide her at home. I haven’t really been able to process my dad’s final days and the fact that he’s gone because the focus had to shift directly to helping Mom and now to accepting that she’s not going to get better, and it is a lot. Sometimes it feels like too much.

6. My tiny family, small house, little life. I was so happy to have some peonies left when we got back, to walk the routes we’ve done hundreds of times, to sleep in my own bed, to be in Carrie and Chloe’s orbit again. All of it is precious to me. I know I’ve shared this quote from Jeff Foster many times, but it is so true. 

You will lose everything. Your money, your power, your fame, your success, perhaps even your memories. Your looks will go. Loved ones will die. Your body will fall apart. Everything that seems permanent is impermanent and will be smashed. Experience will gradually, or not so gradually, strip away everything that it can strip away. Waking up means facing this reality with open eyes and no longer turning away.

But right now, we stand on sacred and holy ground, for that which will be lost has not yet been lost, and realising this is the key to unspeakable joy. Whoever or whatever is in your life right now has not yet been taken away from you. This may sound trivial, obvious, like nothing, but really it is the key to everything, the why and how and wherefore of existence. Impermanence has already rendered everything and everyone around you so deeply holy and significant and worthy of your heartbreaking gratitude.

Loss has already transfigured your life into an altar.