1. Some things are both miserable and wonderful. My walk with my dogs this morning is a good example: 14 degrees, windy and snowing, so quiet. My glasses kept fogging up, I was wet and cold, and because the thermal shirt I wore is silky, it was slippery and kept catching on my coat and riding up over my belly like some nightmare winter crop top. The last trace of autumn lingered under the first blanket of snow, the gold still visible through the white. Other than having to stop and shake off the snow from time to time and wanting to go faster, the dogs acted like it was any other day.

2. Some things are old and worn but still precious. My baby blanket is a good example: the flannel is so soft, and it has a satin edge that I wore almost to disappearing rubbing it between my tiny fingers and against my cheek. My brother had one just like it, with a light blue background and white roses and the same white satin trim. His is in much better shape than mine. Our mom made them for us, at least that’s how I remember it, the story I’ve told myself about them — (is that right, Mom?).

3. I feel like I am finally returning to myself. Jilly Bean, Jello, Silly Jilly. Striped knee length overalls, pigtails, and bare feet. That little one knew exactly who she was. So precious and goofy and creative and smart and kind. I’ve denied and abandoned her, made her wait, told her to be quiet, broken promises, been such a bully. And yet, she is still right there, ready when I am to begin again, to forgive, to love with her whole heart.

One Wish: That we awaken to the light of our true being. May we know we are loved and precious. May we be free.

1. I’m seeking a direct connection to divinity, that which is bigger than me but whose true name or form I do not know, whatever it is that lifts my face out of the dirt. It’s something about wanting to give up, to let go, to relax — to surrender my illusion of control, my resistance, my confusion —  but still needing a soft place to land, needing to believe love and kindness are real, solid, and available to me, IN me. I’m willing to risk keeping my heart open, but I need to know I’m going to be okay, even when I’m not. I need comfort.

2. I know who I am. I don’t know why I keep hiding it away, or trying so hard to convince others of it, why it matters if they understand or believe or support or agree to it. I’m not sure why I care so much that I might be making someone uncomfortable or confused.

3. Sometimes the world is too noisy, too fast, too much. I’m still trying to figure out how to be in it, how to show up, but not get run over. My sweet, sensitive, tender heart gets so overwhelmed. My physical body gets tired, is unwell. I want to show up and stay open, but it hurts and it’s so hard. I’m looking for the way I can stay open and present but still protect myself. I want to be here and I want to be well. I want to be all in, to be all the way true to the call of my brilliant heart, but I worry I’m not as strong as I need to be.

One wish: That somehow we are all able to surrender, to let go of the things that bind us, to stop resisting and relax into the way things are, and feel some sense of peace, a little ease, the tiniest shift in our suffering, and that we let love find us, let kindness touch us, take notice of the ways that we are being supported, lifted and lit up.