| 00032 |


i slept through my alarm this morning. i must need the sleep. we don't allow ourselves to need and take rest. 


i begin the morning reading poetry that my daughter posted on instagram. I weep over the beautiful words. and I remember how poetry has always been a medicine. i reach for my own poetry books. 

She told me last week that I am a poet. I ask myself again, "am I?" I wonder if there is as seed being planted within and what am I going to do about it? 


While making coffee, I chat and check in with the sons who are in and out of the kitchen. It still surprises me to be the mother of men. When did this happen?


I feel stronger today. less fearful. most of the day. There are still moments. But mostly, I begin to root into knowing that I am doing all I can to be as healthy as I can. Beyond that, all of it is out of my control. I don't like not being in control. This is probably why health issues feel so vulnerable to me. 


I committed my energy today to being in the journals. For the most part, it was a day of prepping pages. Again, I contemplate how much time we spend preparing for other things. It is sometimes difficult to allow these minutes and hours to count for something but it is still practice and work


They write me a list of Marvel Superhero movies I need to watch before the new Avengers movie releases at the end of April. This is how I enter into their world. 


We watch Iron Man together. I am so cold even though I am wrapped up in blankets on the couch. The calendar says Spring and my mind thinks that means warmer weather so this cold day feels even colder. Mostly my nose is cold. 


He cleaned off the porch for me today. It makes me smile to know how tenderly he takes care of me. That warmer weather will be here soon enough and I will be on the porch, writing these lists ...and maybe flinging some paint around. 





| 00031 |


waking up and waking up some more


coming to terms ( again ) with the slowness of me; understanding more and more each day the paradox of how much matters and how little matters


I skipped the coffee this morning; didn't eat breakfast. headed out for an appointment with a new doctor. Meditation music in my ears. Deep breathing. Trying to calm my nerves. Why is this such a frightening ordeal


I cry in the office while waiting because it all feels so vulnerable. Even writing about it now, my heart races and jumps with anxiety. These are not monsters. They really do try to care for people. Again. Why am I so scared? 


I am not searching for answers. I have come to terms with the randomness of what happened to me on July 20th, 2017 ... and what happened four weeks later. Sometimes there are no answers. 


But the doctor gives me loads of answers and piles of information and what felt like an infinity of words to try to comprehend. I settled for a moment but became lost in the torrent of what he wanted me to understand. In the end, there are still no definite answers only best guesses and I am not sure that any of these make much of a difference going forward. 


I've already made all the changes. 


yoga feels especially tender tonight. She grounds me with sandbags on  my hips and I begin to cry again. She whispers, "Everything's going to be OK" 


Those words echo what I feel Noah whispering to me too. I need to believe those words. I want to believe those words. Maybe if I can believe, I won't be so scared. 

| 00030 |

Happy spring equinox. These dates will forever mean something else now. It was this week last year that Noah moved to Florida, beginning a new life there. Spring... the season of beginnings. To me. It felt like the end. I lost his everyday presence. 



Thinking back to last night and the thunder... Growing up, I was terrified of thunder storms. I would sit in the hall of our house, crying.



Then I married him. I am not sure if he knows how he has helped me learn how to be brave in the storms.  



I lost my temper at Costco today over something that was fucking stupid. It wasn't my best moment. I came home and told myself to shake it off. I looked in the mirror and said, "it's OK. You are allowed to have not great moments from time to time" 



He texts me and asks me on a date. Yes please.  



 The uprooted feeling has returned. I am exhausted from digging in my heels and holding on. 



We sit side by side, holding hands, at the theater, cheering the announcements of next year's Broadway season. Gratefulness bubbles in my heart for how we have opened ourselves to these experiences. 


Familiar spaces. The menu is the same as it was the first time we ever ate there years and years and years ago. There is much to be said for knowing what to expect.  



As I finish reflecting on this day, he has already fallen asleep bedside me, breathing a rhythm of not quite snores. My lullaby tonight. 



| 00029 |

It feels good to be seen. She sends me words about owls and witches. This exploration makes sense because Noah loved owls and he has opened this door for me. 

I'm practicing looking into a camera and telling my stories, saying my words. I'm blessed with people who let me learn out loud. 


I'm considering a daily habit tracker. I need some scaffolding. All the boxes scare me. What if I prove to myself that I can do this? What then? No more excuses.  


I lost the tape today. The entire box of all my little rolls of tape. These are the things that make me feel like I'm losing my mind. Then Molly walked in with her dog and I thought, "I need to hide the tape"  ( because he loves to eat it) and then I remmebered I hid it from him last week. And apparently from myself. 


We are right in the middle of my stomping grounds. He asked if I want to go by my childhood home. No. Not yet.  


Watery beer makes me feel like I'm fifteen again. I don't remember who bought us that six pack of Miller light. We tossed the bottles over the fence into the abandoned lot to hide our antics. I do remember puking. 


They play Pac man. We are all taking a trip down memory lane.  


Showing up to family. Not one thing on my to do list, on my bucket list, on my wish list matters more than my people. 


I'm lulled to sleep by raindrops and thunder.  



| 00028 |


For the second time this week I've talked about being a witch. I'm not confident in my walk yet and I certainly don't have all the words to wrap around what this all means to me. But I'm learning and it feels true in my body and my soul.



 "So you're a poet,"  she said to me. Am I? 



I dance for the fullness of me. It feels expansive until I have to speak it aloud. Then I get scared again.  



Vulnerability. I'm a fan. Until I'm curled up on a yoga mat sobbing and feeling awkward, for others and for myself. I don't know how else to be right now though. I don't choose these outbursts.



I don't feel judged but I am painfully aware of how uncomfortable grief is to witness. I feel like I need a warning label.  



Spontaneously deciding to do something and I forget the other thing I was committed to. Yeah. I've become that girl.  



Living by example. No apologies. Simply thanking them for loving me and understanding.  Life happens, y'all. 



And now I've heard oogum boogum twice in three weeks. Thanks Love, Simon.



My mind reaches long arms back to Austin trying to pull the regrets back in close. I promised Noah I would leave them there. Sometimes it takes a lot of effort to keep my promises. 

| 00027 |


His alarm wakes me but I barely remember tapping him to see if he was awake. I fall back asleep wrapped in blankets and love 


Later, I take my time waking up, getting up, not wanting to leave the safety I find there in thirty-three plus years together. Even when he is not there, he is there. 


I sit down to work but sad news distracts me. I give myself space to feel all the complicated feelings. 


I return to wrapping words around a vision and an invitation. Hope lights up my heart and I remember that I wrote months ago that I wanted hope to return but I feared it never would. And look, here it is now. 


It's work time for him now. Three kisses ... always three kisses ... and he is out the door. 


The studio needs a little love and attention. I turn toward it. 


As soon as order is restored, I'm out the door taking in this beautiful day. Sunshine. Warm and breezy. The air is full of the sound of lawn mowers and saws. Everyone is working on something. 


Chicken for tacos in the instant pot. With that taken care of, I head to the hammock, book in hand. This day feels luxurious. 


It's a new moon and time for wishes under the dark sky. The fence hides me from the neighbors eyes. There is freedom here. 


| 00026 |


Out with the morning traffic again. We are all trying to get somewhere.



Waiting on the table. I feel fine. Until I start talking and realize there is this and there is that. Words from my yoga practice last night come back to me as I identify what is bothering me. "I want the flow" 



We both acknowledge that I have been in survival mode and it required one thing of me and now there is another place and other things are needed.



So needles and observations, recommendations and advice... And then rest. Behind my closed eyes, the ancients come to care for me.   




I feel energized and happy today. Maybe it's the warm weather.  




Black Panther was even better the second time around. 




Afternoon traffic. We are all still trying to get somewhere. Where an I going? 



This day has been full and yet I don't recall much. It was mostly insignificant things but that is what life is made of... A collection of insignificant moments. 



Tonight we close the day with laughter. Wink, wink.  





| 00025 |


Last night's agitation wakes up with me this morning. This is no way to begin a day. 



My frustration bursts the seams. I don't know how to communicate. 



How can things feel so important and so unimportant simultaneously? 



Finally coffee. And apple pie because yesterday was pie day and we take that seriously around here. 



In the studio I gesso small squares of wood, preparing for my 100 day project. I wonder about how much time we spend making necessary preparations but not acknowledging that as the work.  



I read an article about Georgia O'Keefe and how she kept her studio very organized and clean. I am not Georgia O'keefe. 



I feel the weight of disorganization in my bones. It fatigues me. Maybe I could channel Georgia O'Keefe as my ancient guide.  



He makes dinner magically appear. It sort of feels wondeeful to be called to dinner. 



The Color Purple - WOW! 

God is inside me and everyone else

That was or ever will be

I came into this world with God
And when I finally looked inside

I found it
Just as close as my breath is to me

| 00024 |

Early morning appointments mean early morning traffic. I forget the the world is up and moving until I have to move with it.  


The stress of the drive is massaged away. The pain has settled into my hips. She says my root Chakra is tight. Yes. Yes. This must be why I never feel grounded.  


But something has shifted. It happened last night in restorative yoga. When she placed her hands on me I felt currents of electricity run down my spine.  


The rest of today feels more focused. Tiny turns in the direction of me and my work. I commit and begin to bring action to the promise of devotion. It's easier to talk about it. To say it. To think I am being it. But there is some amount of doing required.  


It's pie day. We take that seriously around here. Apple. Coconut cream. Chocolate. 


More yoga tonight and my body aches from all the balancing and stretching and being and doing.  


I have to abandon the movie. It's too loud. My body revolts.   I go to the water. And the salts. Hoping to soak away the tenderness. 


But it is still so loud. I wish I werent so noise sensitive. And the water makes me nervous. I haven't really relaxed in the tub since I had my stroke. Some part of me worries that it was caused by my hot baths.  


Be curious.  




| 00023 |

The time change is messing with my perceptions. Waking up in the dark simply makes me feel weird in my body.


I remember this feeling from when I was young, waking up to go to school and this feeling of unrest permeated my cells.  


The time on the clock is merely a construct. Ultimately it means nothing but we frantically chase after these hours and  celebrate because we have more hours in the day But do we? 


I make the mistake of looking at the news on my phone before I've had my first sips of coffee. It's chaos. It's always chaos.  


How do you find the center of calm when each day the foundation is shaking.  


Coffee and connection and conversations and the proverbial time flies.  


It's afternoon and I'm tackling a task I've been putting off. Procrastination never makes the work eaiser. So why?  


Dinner is rushed. Despite my love hate relationship with the instant pot, I am grateful tonight for it. 


Tonight on the yoga mat, holding my poses, the heart says to me, "you are safe" I am relieved though I am not conscious of feeling unsafe. 







| 00022 |


i want to cocoon in my bed. let me stay here for days until I am ready to be human again.


but coffee calls so up i am but i'm giving myself permission to not make the bed


I wander through my studio space picking up and putting away twenty-seven things while I wait on the water to heat up. This is my ritual of preparing space, creating space, holding space for myself


it's national nap day and this sounds divine but the second cup of coffee isn't going to allow for sleep to fall on me


I gather the books and the pens and head to bed anyway. I might not be able to nap but I can crawl back into the cocoon. A little more metamorphosis is needed


I wrote today about waking up and waking up some more. About walking through and still walking through. 


you know what I love about myself? I won't stay still. I reach for movement. 


the circle gathers tonight. we are planting a dream. 


home again,  home again, jiggedy jig. Words my mama would always say. 



| 00021 |

I wake up realizing that sleep came easier than I expected last night. Perhaps the enormity of the day blanketed me. 


 Shuffling around upstairs, getting dressed, biding time. I am not sure I am ready to greet the morning with others. 


I am reminded how much I loved to wake up super early when i visited my daddy. I would creep down the stairs and he would already be awake, sitting in his chair, reading the newspaper, drinking his coffee. I would sit on the corner of the couch near him, quiet. Words were not needed. Just being in his presence was enough. 


the time change means it seems later than it is. I need to get downstairs. 


Confusion washes over me as I reach the bottom step. Voices familiar but out of place. What is happening? 


My brother drove up to see me, to surprise me. I cry because my feelings overwhelm me. I've never done well with surprises. ( Cynthia likes to know what is going to happen next. We established that in Austin) 


I am so so so happy to see my brother, to sit beside him at the table for breakfast, to laugh at his puns and his corny jokes. 


Within hours, my nervous system is shot. It's been a really big weekend full of new and new again experiences, conquering fears and anxiety, loud music and lots of words. I am ready to go home.


Why is it so cold at back at home? It is tempting to turn around and head south again. 



| 00020 |


Going south. Heart beats.

Body remembers what the mind wants to forget.

She drives and I am grateful to be able to conquer the anxiety of this route without that worry

So many words.

Sonoma pear cider.

I can't understand the words but the music is loud and the drumbeats drown out my thoughts.

I need the tsunami of music that is louder, bigger than what I feel inside. Sometimes it feels like the only way I will survive. 

I miss cranking up the music and slinging paint.

So few words trying to capture an enormous day. 


| 00019 |


I write words and I worry that I am being redundant. Saying the same things over and over in different ways. I don't know where my original thoughts are. I only know what my thoughts are right now. 


But I pound out those words anyway. and I click send. Showing up imperfectly or not at all ... that's my motto. 


Layers and layers wrapped around me this cold morning. We are off to watch the grandsons run to raise money for their school. I love them and cheer them on but why are these schools so underfunded? And their school is one of the best resourced in the district. 


More resources for a very white populated school. There are few faces of color in the students or in the faculty.


They play the National anthem. I am tempted to take a knee but I have questions about the appropriateness of this white woman making such a statement. Instead, I do what I have done for a decade now: my quiet protest of placing my hands behind my back and bowing my head while this song plays. I will not place my hand over my heart in allegiance to this country and I will not hold my head high. 


My heart aches as they play college fight songs and some of the teachers tomahawk chop during the Florida State chant. Sigh. Must we perpetuate these ideas. 


The rest of fun run was accompanied by fun and funky music. The adults stand so still. When did we lose our natural propensity to move when we hear music? I want to be child, dancing any chance I get. Life is too short not to dance. 


Errands crammed in between the two fun runs. I make a dash for the doors of Costco to avoid running into an old friend. I cannot hold up to any words about Noah today. 


Ask me how I am doing and I escape with simple words, "I'm OK" or I say too too too many words. Over sharing seems to be the default. Both leave me feeling awkward. 


| 00018 |


this morning, like most days, I wake before he does. Lying here I listen to his quiet snoring competing with the birds' morning song


They both makes eggs for breakfast and it smells so fucking delicious. I'm allergic to eggs and on mornings like this I want to eat eggs so badly. Why do we want the things that are not good for us?


Black Panther. Holy yes. thank you, more please


the new privacy fence is almost up and I am beginning to feel safer, more grounded. I definitely believe these things are related


the wind is swirling and twirling the leaves in the yard in a dance beyond their control


sometimes I over explain myself because I don't feel like he understands me.  I am exasperated at the language barrier. Maybe less words would be better


another day and things have dropped off the to do list and I have to remind myself of the words I said to them yesterday. So you failed. You are not a failure


Throwing that particular F word around may seem over dramatic but I am reaching so fervently for a routine, for structure to the day, and I can't quite seem to get there for more than a moment. It feels just out of my reach


Dishes in the sink agitate me. And I know that it's not really important at all. But still I am on edge at the end of the night. Maybe I am just tired.  











| 00017 |




The day begins with further steps into course correction. I get so distracted by trying to be someone which means I am just doing stuff instead of being.



Anne lamott wrote that you can't think way into becoming yourself. I say you can't do your way into being.  



But I've been doing a lot lately. And I've let the experts voices rise louder than my own. So today I begin... Again... To put on the blinders. 



This week I'm walking a spiral path back to 2012 and picking up a dormant dream. It's time. The wild women and the wolves are gathering. Aho.



We go to yoga together on Wednesday evenings. There's a new teacher. At the end of class each week, she sings us to close.   



Follow... Follow... Follow   ... You own voice... Voice... Voice. 



Yes. The lessons today are all in sync.  



She asked us to be vulnerable, open hearted. She is bringing forth my lesson from last week. I cry because I don't want to be vulnerable. Let me just protect my heart, OK? 



And Noah comes to remind me. To love more. And I can't love more with a closed heart... Without being vulnerable. So I practice opening my heart space.  











| 00016 |


I begin the day early, too early, lying in bed watching videos on instagram. Perfect lazy distraction.



It's a dreary day. Rainy and cold. My favorite kind of day. Well. Not the cold part. But I like the dreary. 



I don't want to get up. Out there I might float away. In here, under the covers, I feel as grounded as I have in weeks.  



Eventually the coffee calls. And coconut pound cake. Thanks Molly.  



Sorting art supplies and straightening up the studio... These are little grounding practices too.    



Technical difficulties keeps me from the planned to do list today. Sometimes it's a gift to have to change directions. Instead of more computer work, I decide to paint. 



It's It's been awhile and I don't remember how to do this. Until I do remember. Sometimes you simply have to begin. And then you want to never stop.



and now I have two large art journals out. I'm in a roll. Feast or famine. All or nothing. This is my default. I'm trying to find the balance.   



I end the day lying in bed watching Frasier with my love... And the cat. Noah's cat which became Stephen's cat. She cuddles with us sometimes. 

| 00015 |


It's the year of collaboration. The stars and the sun, the moon and the planets said so. And I am saying so too. 



Because we have to be willing to step up, step into, step through.




My boundaries are gone. Literally. The chain link fence was taken down today in preparation for a privacy fence. 



I feel like there's a message there but maybe not. What if everything doesn't have to have special meaning? What if plane and ordinary things happen day in and day out. What if that's OK? 



I give in to consumerism and buy colorful ceramic toadstools for the front flower bed. There are no flowers growing there but now there are three whimsical fake mushrooms. They make me happy. 



The house was full of laughter tonight. These are my favorite moments.  



And I realized that sometimes we have to create our own belonging.  



But I am tired tonight. And I am remembering that two days ago I wrote that it is OK to be tired. 



Apparently I fling permission really well. I need to fling it my way every now and then.












| 00014 |


The sun is glimmering early this morning. 



I spend the morning chasing light, trying to find balance.   



It's a beautiful day in the neighborhood. So we take a walk. Such a simple joy. We should do this more often. 



Restorative yoga today with hot stones and her. My heart is full



Things that ground me. Heavy jewelry. Chopping vegetables. Hugs. 



Things that unground me. Social media. Not knowing what comes next. All the frantic news since November 2016. 



It's oscar night. We used to have grand parties, brought celebrity dates and everything. One of my favorite photos of Noah is at our Oscar party with his snaggle tooth smile.


I lost my smile. It never feels natural anymore. 



Common. Stand up for something.  




| 00013 |

The house is so quiet this morning as I walk down the stairs, right into the studio space, and then back out. He is sitting there having his breakfast and it startles me.


He shaved his head yesterday because he was tires of dealing with hat head. His resemblance to his brother is so strong now that I think for a moment, I thought it was Noah sitting at the table. 


There are moments that I forget he is gone. And I lose him again when I remember. I've said this before and I don't mean to be repetitive but grief sometimes feels like a rerun of moments.


I want to talk about him. And I want to talk about that day. I want to scream and shout. I want to throw things. I want someone to notice this pain. I want to know what others were doing when they found out. And what did they do to process it. I want to know that we aren't alone in our wailing. 


Until I don't. And then I want to hold it all to my chest because it's mine. I don't want to share. I don't know what I want. I don't know how I am.   


I forgot that I'm allergic to eggs and I ordered French toast this morning. Maybe I just forgot there are eggs in French toast. 


I made tiny things with clay today. A pillow. Because it's OK to be tired. A star. Because the sight if the stars makes me dream. (thanks van gogh) a open heart to remind me to open my heart. A tree to remind me to stay rooted. The face of a kind old mountain main that sort of looks like a pirate because he showed up in my meditation and I really didn't want to go with him; I think I'm not happy that my guide is male. 


Breathing has been easier today. I feel softer. Stretched and expanded. It's the open heart. 


I've felt floaty since we've been home from Austin. Tonight I stood barefoot on the ground, imagining my roots digging into the center of the earth. Be here, be now.