1. Truth: This is one of my favorite times of the year, as well as one of the hardest. It’s the busiest part of my whole CSU work year, but it’s also spring — the smell of the lilacs, my irises starting to bloom, buds on my peonies, the trees getting their leaves, the bird song, the promise of a garden and summer, the rain, the rain, the rain.

blergh…

2. Truth: I have Seasonal Affective Disorder. I’m very aware that S.A.D. is the kind of condition that if you don’t have it sounds like a made up thing, but trust me — it’s real. It’s some kind of trick the light and moisture and temperature plays on my brain. And when it’s as gloomy as it has been the past few days (and will be for the next few as well), I just want to stay in bed. I feel like I’m carrying the full weight of the sky and the weather in my body, like the whole thing sits right on top of my head, settles in my chest, and it’s too heavy. Growing up in the Pacific Northwest, I just thought I was a gloomy person. Then I moved to Colorado and realized it was actually the weather.

3. Truth: I’m ready for this semester to be over. I was playing around with my new work camera yesterday, and my friend who’d stopped by to have lunch took this picture of me. It makes me smile because it’s so ridiculous but also so accurate — this is exactly how I feel right now. I have two more weeks of CSU work (fingers crossed that I finish what I have to by then, but even if I don’t my office has to be packed up so they can move it back into our newly remodeled building, thus the chaos behind me in the picture) and three more Sundays of yoga teacher training, and I’m so ready to be done, to rest.

One wish: That even if we are busy, overwhelmed, sad, tired, confused, we are still able to see and appreciate the beauty amidst the mess, still able to laugh. That we do what we can to be gentle with ourselves and others. That even as we surrender to what is, we don’t give up.

Chicken coop, The Farm, image by my brother

1. Truth: There are certain places, spaces that are so powerful, mean so much to me, I carry them with me everywhere I go. “Our” house in Waldport, that particular seven mile stretch of beach, 27 Powers (my friend Laurie’s magic home), my own meditation shrine, Shambhala Mountain Center, Lee Martinez Park, 122 SE Division Street (the house I grew up in), and The Farm.

2. Truth: Some of these places are exactly as I remember them, some have changed so much they are barely recognizable. This year, for the first time in about eight years, my mom’s family celebrated Easter at The Farm. It’s their family farm, where she grew up and where we did too, and even though my uncle still works the land, after my grandma passed away they rented the house out to another family. That family recently moved out and my cousin and his family are moving in, so this year they offered to host Easter dinner there. My mom said they’ve done a lot of nice updates to the house, so it doesn’t look quite the same anymore, and yet this picture my brother took of the chicken coop out back looks exactly the same as I remember.

3. Truth: I feel incredibly lucky to have these places, these people, these connections, these memories. My brother posted the picture of the chicken coop on Facebook with the caption, “It’s just a chicken coop…but so much more. Would love to read what my sister could write about this picture.” There is so much sweetness mixed with the sad in life.

One wish: May anyone who is struggling, suffering with grief or illness or loss or loneliness receive a bit of sweetness, feel a little light, know enough love to keep them from giving up.