1. Morning walks. It’s slowly leaning towards fall, my favorite season in Colorado. There are fewer mosquitoes and it’s darker in the morning which means we see more critters and fewer people.

2. Practice. I’ve been understandably distracted so the quality of my practice has reflected that, and yet I’m still so much better off when I show up, am present for whatever may arise, keep my heart open. There’s lots of crying right now, but that can be good too.

3. Simple self care. Brushing my teeth, taking a shower, drinking water, eating, napping, reading, asking for help, hugs, petting Ringo’s sweet head, letting myself fall apart and feel sad, texting with Chloe’ and Chris and Mom, listening to podcasts, watching videos, looking up at the sky, stretching, keeping the curtains closed, eating cookies and mac & cheese.

4. All the work I did to prepare myself for being “here.” I’ve been a serious committed practitioner for 15 years, have studied and read books about all the difficult things, have taken classes and gone to workshops and retreats, practiced with open hearted teachers of all kinds and became a teacher myself. Turns out the benefit of all that is to be able to live through this — somewhere between grief and grace, in the middle of nowhere, at the end of the world, empty and luminous. Thank you, past me, for the dedication, the tenderness. You are saving me now. 

5. My tiny family, small house, little life. Ringo got a new enrichment toy and it’s so cute watching him pull out each ribbon of felt and carefully unroll it with his nose to get the treat. Eric spent the day at a D&D event, an annual bash that involves dressing up (this year’s theme: Space Cowboy) — I swear, a nerd is the best possible partner for an introvert.

1. Morning walks. I’ve been calling it “river medicine” when we get to walk by the water. This past week, I could start to see the tiniest bit of fall creeping in, although it’s also greener than it’s ever been this late in the summer because of all the rain we’ve had. We saw a heron and heard an owl one morning when we walked along the river. I also noticed that the narrowleaf cottonwoods, one of my favorite fall color trees, are losing their leaves from a fungus (again, because of all the rain) but my friend Jim assured me it makes the leaves drop but doesn’t kill the tree. The other days we walked at the cemetery, which I could call “death medicine.” 

2. Family. My dad is still here/there, still under hospice care, and in related news, my mom had a stroke last week and is in the hospital. Seriously, it’s so awful it’s almost unbelievable, bordering on ridiculous. Thank goodness it was a “small” stroke, but she is still going to need some time in a rehab, which means my brother and nieces, my mom’s siblings and friends are all helping out, taking care of Dad and visiting with Mom. I’m so grateful I got to spend the time with them I did recently, and so glad that there are so many other people who love them who can offer their support when I can’t be there. 

3. Practice. It really is the only reason I’m still standing, still here, not losing my sh*t right now. This past weekend I did a restorative yoga teacher training and it made me realize that even now, STILL, I deny myself comfort and care, that I still have work to do when it comes to really and fully loving and honoring myself. 

4. Massage with Dana. Even though I’ve been seeing her for the past eight years and no one else, that’s still what I put on my calendar when we have a session, “Massage with Dana.” She really is the best. I trust her, we make each other laugh, she’s so kind and smart, I can talk to her about anything, and it’s incredibly healing to work with her. 

5. My tiny family, small home, little life. I love it here, so much.

Bonus joy: figuring out that if my Kindle library loan is due back but I’m not finished and can’t renew it because someone else has it on hold all I have to do is put my Kindle in airplane mode and they can’t take the book back, being able to get books from the library for my Kindle, the library, books, sharing books, Tour de Fat because even though I complain about the complete chaos of it every year I’m glad that people are willing to be weird in public and bring their kids and dogs along, I’m also grateful that I made it though another Tour de Fat without killing anyone on a bike because half of them are drunk and the other half aren’t paying attention, rewatching Iron Chef with Eric, fans of all sorts, tomatoes and raspberries from the garden, the Rocky Mountain Bee plant in our front yard, being able to text with Chris and Mom, the texts Chloe’ sends me and the Instagram reels Shellie shares with me, that Chelsey understands exactly what I’m going through, reading in bed at night while Eric and Ringo sleep.