It's a balancing act...

Have you ever found yourself in mid sentence forgetting what you were about to say? What causes these misfires? These embarrassing lapses? Recently I was talking to a friend about something very important to me when suddenly my speech halted. My eyes rapidly scanning my brain files for lost words. Nothing. Blank. Awkward pauses. My friend politely put me out of my misery by saying, “I think the word you were trying to say is ‘Balance’.” “Yes, I shouted, that’s it, Balance!”

I couldn’t help but snicker at myself. Me trying to talk about Balance only to forget what I’m talking about. Does this sound like someone who has Balance? The image that pops in my mind is of a tight rope walker who creates perfect synchronicity between the hemispheres of his body in order to keep from falling. Slowly he puts one foot in front of the other in a slow staccato, inching forward with precise pitch. Lately I haven't felt like my life has been balancing on the high wire, far from it.

There are obvious things we know we should do to keep the ‘timing belt’ in our lives perfectly tuned. But I find that I often need the nudge, the constant reminder to follow peace instead of chaos.  I always set off with the best of intentions, I really do. Oh my goodness, I have made passionate resolutions that turned to dust mere days after declaring my marching orders. How do I explain myself from all those starts and stops? It can be said that I am a person with a lot of passion inside of me who at times lacks the balance to keep it all afloat. But oh how I try.

There was that time when I was very serious about running a marathon before I turned 40. I even signed up to run the Chicago marathon. I trained my heart out, blew out my knee and I've never been able to run again. Talk about complete deflation. Then there was the time I decided I needed to change my health by following the raw food diet. I was so dedicated!! This was going to be my new thing. I bought expensive kitchen gadgets, read book after book as I devoured this new concept. Well, a few months in and realizing nobody ever wanted to dine on my rabbit food fare, I quit that too. Raw food was followed by my jewelry making phase…. Oh wait, there’s more, but I'll spare you the details as I think you get the picture. Lots of starts and stops mixed with feelings of failure and embarrassment.

I often ask myself the question, how do I start off so passionately only to have it end so disparagingly? Oh ya, balance, the word my brain likes to conveniently forget. I don’t know the exact ingredients to this “balance recipe” but I think the biggest gift I am giving myself these days is to allow myself what I need. One of the greatest blessings of getting older is that I am finally beginning to understand how to nourish my spirit. What I mean by this is, I have an incredibly sensitive soul that needs a lot of protecting. I cherish my sensitivity as it has served me well but when I overuse it, it becomes a liability of soul crushing pain. When my circuits overload from too much heavy emotion I have to disconnect and sit quietly for a day. I used to apologize for it as it can be looked upon as being aloof or lazy but it is an integral part of my way to reconnection. I also realize that I have to be out in nature, a lot, because living in a concrete jungle stifles the creative vibration inside of me. Nature is the soft hand that gently touches my back and looks me in the eyes and tells me I am standing in perfect light and I am on the good path.

I will close by saying this. With all my many starts and stops,  I have learned a lot from it all. It’s almost like an invisible thread is intricately weaved from one experience into the other, all building upon itself. In fact, I know I wouldn’t be where I am today if I hadn’t tried to run the marathon or spent hundreds of hours learning to solder and bead pearls to make beautiful jewelry or lost my quest at becoming a raw foodist. I think it’s all valid, it plays a part of who I am today. Maybe I can even go so far as to say I like the part of me that remains curious enough to try new things, even at the risk of embarrassing failure. I never want to look back at my life and cringe at the fear that held me back. I would much rather smile at the bravery of trying then to do nothing at all. Why not, what have we got to loose? I have actually experienced great failure while living in fear and living small. So why not live large and see what happens. So, did I cover the subject of …wait, what was that word? Oh ya, Balance.

I See Clearly

Can you see me? Do you know me? Will you continue to hold the torch that lights my path? Under this dense canopy, the oppression of the thicket, my eyes begin to open. How is it possible to see so clearly thru this opaque veil? The beacon has led me to exacting coordinates. These are my waters, I am here.  Some believe in hope, faith, destiny...I haven't a label to stamp this level of belonging. This is where my knowing beats on top of and in between the rhythm of my cry, my melody, my hearts anthem.

I wish I had tangible evidence, fruit to bare witness to all that I've longed for. Mostly we go through life trusting the direction others have told us to go. We follow maps, adhere to guidelines, relying whole heartedly on the experience of those that have gone before us. There comes a time when the cornerstone of our truth is held to the absence of terra firma. It becomes ultimate trust.

Seeing when there is nothing but a knowing. The deep marrow of my bones wrote the story of this glorious awakening. I have always known that one day my eyes will pierce the horizon of infinite possibility. The line out to this mirage is where I stand. I am exactly where I am suppose to be.

Cape Breton Island

Welcome to Cape Breton Island! We traveled along the Cabot trail as we made our way along the coastline of Cape Breton Island. The long winding road led us along rugged shorelines and winding mountainous passes that were chock full of lush trees and breathtaking views. I enjoyed the pristine non commercial aspect of it all. To show you how non commercialized it is, during one evening we came close to running out of fuel because we couldn't find a town with a gas station that was open past 6pm. At exactly 6pm sharp most of the gas stations close for the night, that would have been a good fact to know beforehand. We are so used to our 24 hour modern conveniences that in some ways I found it almost refreshing to see the lack of convenience. Life has a slower pace here, spending time with family is more important then keeping a store open after dark. What a dramatic contrast from the frantic lifestyle we live in Chicago.

The highlight of Cape Breton Island was our travels to a tiny remote cove that a local told us was a “must see.” Would you believe this charming place is called “Meat Cove.” Don’t let the name fool you, it was such an incredible place. We traveled along a cliff hugging bumpy dirt road to this secret hideaway. Later we heard that a few years ago this dirt road was completely washed out during a big rain storm trapping people in the cove for days. There's something about the thought of being “trapped” in this cove that would be a welcomed reprieve, it’s just that peaceful.  We walked along the rocky beaches and onto wooden boardwalks with not another person in sight. Up on the green cliffs I could see campers setting up their tents for the night and the smell of their campfires mixing with the fresh sea air made for a rather intoxicating elixir.

Our trip was full of many moments of pause, long uninterrupted conversations, breathing deeply, looking out and allowing the eyes to see beyond their normal capacity and into a future without limitation. The sea air and the vastness of the ocean has a gravitational pull on my soul, much like the moon pulls at the tides.  The untamable vastness seems to shift my momentum and reorganizes my very own landscape.

As we were leaving Cape Breton Island we had one final stop to make in a town called Baddeck. It is such a charming quaint harbor town. I had been told of a sailboat tour that takes you around the harbor with views of the coastline, a chance to see Alexander Graham Bells estate and allows you to see Eagles in their natural habitat. Eagles! That's all I needed to hear. Count me in!!! We boarded the 67 ft hand built sailboat and what an amazing experience was about to be had. For me it was all about the eagles, let me tell you all about it. We sailed to a tiny island where a pair of nesting eagles live. Get this, their names are Alex and Mabel. Alex saw our sailboat pulling near and I watched as he sat high on his perch awaiting the dinner bell to toll. It was a perfectly orchestrated circus act of sorts. Our Captain held out a big fish and he yelled, "Aaaalex, coooome and geeeeeet iiiiiiit!" My heart was pounding with excitement as I watched Alex spread his giant wings and lift from his perch as he set his flight path into the wind. Majestically he soared toward his great reward. He swooped down right next to our boat and grabbed his fish and made his way back to his little island. I later said, "Mike, wasn't that amazing to see Alex grab that fish with his hands?" Mike politely said, "Lynne, Alex does not have hands, he has talons." Hands, talons...it was an amazing display. Oh, and yes, we did sail past Alexander Graham Bell's estate, but for some reason that just didn't hold the same excitement as watching Alex.

As we drove away from Cape Breton Island I was once again struck by the power of nature and it's untamed beauty. I'm already making plans for a return visit.

Prince Edward Island, Canada

We began our journey onto Prince Edward Island by taking a 13km bridge from New Brunswick onto P.E.I. The 13 Kilometre (just over 8 miles) bridge is quite a sight to behold. My first impression of the island was how green the grass was and how red the dirt is. It's all very lush, beautifully manicured, and so much for the eye to see. PEI is where the author Lucy Maud Montgomery lived and this was the landscape she used as the backdrop for her fictitious novel "Anne of Green Gables". After driving through the countryside and along the coastline I completely understand how the author came to title her novel the way she did. "Green Gables" is a well suited description.

I'll let the pictures speak for themselves. You will see lots of green, red and so much beauty.  Our journey continued onto Cape Breton, but I don't want to inundate you with too many photos all at once so let me start with this part of the journey and shortly I will show you the breathtaking views of Cape Breton. Oh Cape Breton, let me tell you, it's quite a treat. OK, first up, PEI. Enjoy!

The Minor Keys

My heart has always felt very moved by music. Especially music played in the key of melancholy. It seems to stir the emotions that cling to the walls of my heart. Soft melodies coaxing out the stuck part of me. When I was a young girl, music was my thing. I was forever humming a tune or singing along to the record player.  I went from achingly beautiful crescendos that would leave me breathless, to heart breaking quiet held within caverness echoes. The music simply dimmed inside of me, it became a waistland of sorts. I'm not sure how it happened, it seemed to follow on the heels of a very dark time in my life. As the volume reseeded, a ticker tape of words began to grow in it's place. We seem to be in a constant state of flux. As one thing is removed, another blooms in it's place. Floating words began flowing thru the centre of my core and when reached for, a connection to secret passages began revealing the hidden truth inside of me. Where my voice once crooned with melodies, written passion now sounded my hearts cry.  Our stories linger within deep grooves that long to find their perfect pitch and tone in this world. Self expression. Are we not all trying to find a way of leaving our mark on this world. It's as if to say, "Hey, I was here." I often see people graffiti their names onto walls and carve declarations of love into soft places.  Perhaps we do this to make a statement of remembrance, that I once walked this earth and my Love was true, so please don't forget me. I think that's why I love documenting my life through photography. It will always stand as my expression of the way I saw the world and the beauty in it.

All of the photos were taken during a recent trip to Newfoundland, Canada. What a glorious place.

Surrender

I surrender to the winds that blow, the waters that crash, the sun that beats and the storms as they rage. Surrendering relieves the burden of my reach as it softens the hard corners of my will. My emotions don’t always follow the participation, but a willing heart serves as a sign of my deep faith.

Will my open hands be left empty or will they be filled? Will the cup cascade over the brim of my souls cry? Will my thirst be met by quench? The chain belonging to the 1,000 pound weight has found it’s grasp on me. I believe there is a way out from this, there always is, freedom is encrypted into every story. When the currents and riptides pull us down we are to remain calm and swim parallel to the shoreline to find release from it’s grasp. Remaining calm in the midst of the storm. Is it even possible? It would seem that everything we have gone through in the past has prepared us for this very moment. Remaining at peace when the world is at war. The days can seem long during the blistering heat, yet the rains always come. Even the entombed glacier, held by a millennia will one day break free and float out to the sea. Nothing is forever, everything changes, it always does. Even the mundane of my routine will one day be interrupted, the stuck feelings will be unhinged and open wide. So yes, I will lift my hands high into the sky and let my cup be filled.

A prayer with wings, Fly high, high into the sky sweet dreams of mine. Later you will spring forth as tall trees a dense canopy to cover me.

Surrender, it’s where I open all the important details of my worry and throw it into the breeze, into the sun, up into the stars, out into the rain. I spill it forth, drain it’s vat, loosen it’s grip and release it to fly.

Replenishing

This is where I go to replenish, recharge and find answers to my hearts questions. The farm. From sunrise to sunset the magical display goes on. Early morning fogs to night skies heavy with stars. Long walks, easy talks, beautiful drives, it all happens in this place.  Here's a look into what my eyes saw this past week.

The art of savoring

  To savor something is to enjoy it to the fullest.

A slow pace descended as the long shadows of the setting sun filled the foreground. A blessed thrum fills the air in this gentle sun kissed scene. I will replay this moment on a continual loop and wrap it with the silk that lines my treasure trove. During the hectic pace of life I will unwrap this silken memory and sink my fingers into its ointment so I can fill the deep crevasses of my longing.

There’s just something about Paris. The heady views, the demure style, exquisite food, red liptstick, cafe au lait and the pace at which the city flows… so let’s talk about the pace for a moment.

I often get caught up in the whirlwind of my fast pitch life. Rushing here and there, quick shallow breaths, tapping into so many different sets of circumstances. My emotions sounding like a grinding stick shift unable to find its gear.  In short, it can be exhausting.  I am in a constant state of teetering my balance to remain plugged in so I will be functional, but also knowing when it’s time to unplug and recharge.

This past week while in Paris, I walked through the Luxembourg Gardens near sunset. This is one of those special moments that will lay imbedded in my soul. The gardens were breathtaking, but what captured my attention the most was the Parisians doing what they do best, savoring the moment. They slowly strolled arm in arm, young lovers locked in each others gaze, people reading poetry, others sitting in complete silence as they pointed their faces towards the sun. Not one person was on their cell phones with heads buried into social media. Instead, there was this organic connection into the earths calm. The bouquet before us was full bodied and every note acknowledged. The symphony of pleasure strumming it’s magical chords upon the audience. The breeze was flowing over our senses and we were simply swept away.

It causes me to breathe a little deeper, linger a little longer, embrace all that is before me. Thank you Paris for reminding me to slow down and open my palette to all that is before me.

The Yellow Brick Road

The yellow brick road was to lead Dorothy to Emerald City. What a magical concept, just stay on the path and you will reach the promised land. So to speak. But if we are always awaiting the promised land won't we miss the beauty along the journey? Quite often the very things that have brought me the most joy and contentment are the small things in life, the every day moments that unexpectedly turn into something more. A smile, a small gesture, a breathtaking sunrise or a simple act of kindness. I am reminded of a conversation I had many years ago with a professional ice hockey player. He had a very long and successful career in the NHL. It's been over twenty years since this conversation took place, but his words left a lasting impression. He began recounting the surprising emotions he felt after playing in the Stanley Cup finals.  He was at the pinnacle of his career, living his dream come true, a very successful man in every sense of the word, yet he was confronted with deep feelings of emptiness. I remember him saying, "I had everything a man could ever want, I accomplished all the goals I set out to do, yet it all felt rather empty inside."  All these many years later I understand clearly the message he was conveying that day. We often think that attaining certain goals or accomplishing great feats will bring us undeniable happiness.  Only to find out that once we reach those milestones we are often left wanting for something more, it all seems to fall short. The emotions of happiness become rather murky when held to the light of accomplishments. Enjoying the human experience from a simpler stage, a less complicated venue is what our hearts truly desire.

Perhaps the golden fields along the "yellow brick road" are the best part of the journey. Tender moments perfectly held with no expectations. I breathe deeply, inhaling the goodness in this place without striving for what is next. I stand still, I believe I have traveled far enough today, this is exactly where I'm suppose to be.  I think I'll sit for awhile and allow the saffron glow to calm my soul.

This past month the  canola fields were in full bloom on the farm. Unfortunately I wasn't able to be home during this beautiful event so I commissioned my niece Casey to photograph some of the fields so I could share them here. The pictures turned out beautifully. Pure sunshine!

Casey also included this fun picture for me. She knew it would make me laugh.  Let me introduce you to Patches, a stray that stumbled into our farmyard and quickly found his way onto the throne of my parents home. He went from rags to riches, a true Cinderella story.  Oh how we love Patches.  He doesn't have a care in the world.  His whole day consists of eating and sleeping and sometimes he even allows us to scratch his back. When I watch him I realize how I overcomplicate, overanalyze, dramatize, and even awfulize so many of the details of my life. Patches just slinks along knowing that everything will be taken care of. I am once again reminded that it's all about letting go and enjoying the journey.

All photos were taken by Casey Bechard. Thank you so much my sweet Casey!

Hyde Park...at dawn

My eyes open to a clock that reveals this impossible hour.  I should be asleep but my mind keeps pouring over the invitation, “Meet me in Hyde Park…at dawn.”  I could easily make excuses for another absence.  Lord knows I have done it before. But I can't miss this chance to sway in the arms of my souls respite.  I need to lock eyes with calm and embrace the chords of quiet.  I gather myself and prepare for our rendezvous.  We are to meet by the first light of day, under the morning sky, beside the light storer's room.  Do you know this place? You'll recognize it when you see it.  It's the place where the entire days magic is squeezed into the early morning rise. It plays as a slow meditation, a soft synchronizing to my hearts rhythm.  I must still my breath in order to hear your message.  There is a beautiful presence holding me in the arms of this quiet space.

I walked unfamiliar paths without ever being lost. I emerged to this glorious view, swimming with swans, I couldn't imagine anything more perfect.  I wonder how it feels to swim alongside these peaceful creatures. I stood mesmerized for several moments. Drawn by the sense of harmony. Neither one posing a threat to the other, there was no struggle, no fear.  I noticed a elderly woman sitting alone on a park bench watching this same graceful display.  Her thick heavy sweater out of place on this light warm day. She sat with her thin legs crossed, while her frail arms rested by her sides.  Her watery eyes lost deep in thought.  I wonder what she is thinking, what dreams she is replaying, what love is she reliving? She stood, wiped her eyes and quietly strolled away. The last thing I saw as I left Hyde Park were these beautiful purple flowers. I couldn’t help but notice the flowers no longer contained by the steel bars that had once held them back. Their beauty now spilling forth. It reminded me that our gifts will always find their way. Even through closed doors a path will be made.

Thank you for meeting me at dawn, you know how much I needed this.

London, England

Adrift

Adrift in giant waters.  I feel so small. The endless waves lapping over me as they pull me to their drowning ledge. In these reflective pools, the enormity of the universe is held. With the turning of the tide, my silence, released.  It would seem that the ocean has a way of spilling forth our secrets. Everything hidden, now revealed.

I am an island, you are my shore. I reach for your strong hands that hold the scars of a hundred stories. My refuge, the mooring that anchors the drift that seeps from my soul. I climbed the bell tower, the highest spot to release my souls cry. Effortlessly above the clouds, your light reached me. For your beacon is all I see. I raise my sail to the winds that will carry me to your endless skies. Under your shadow, I will abide.

What is it about water? The magic elixir that awakens the soul. It would seem that it has allowed my heart to begin dreaming again.  The wide awake, make me weak in the knees, kind of dreaming. Where everything becomes possible. Life interrupted, is hand stitched together. The gap, filled.

Recently Mike and I headed out on a boat tour for a chance to see whales & puffins in their natural habitat. We were 30 miles from shore when we came across a pod of 8 humpback whales in the midst of feeding. What a rush to be standing along the boat rails, mere meters from these majestic creatures. Photos can not do justice to the enormity of this experience. It was truly a sight to behold.

The ocean teaches me so much about perspective and the powerlessness of life. I felt like a droplet, a speck, a grain of sand caught in the scale of the universe. Inwardly the total sum of my emotions exploding as outwardly the enormity so undeniable yet infinitely impossible to articulate. As with most things, we are best left to cherish the experience rather then diminish it with mortal words. Finding the balance of who I am with the reality of who we are, in the expanse of all that is. The ocean…

Dreams...we all have them

“Why are you looking out the window,  you need to pay attention and quit your day dreaming!” This was the daily dagger hurled at me from my first grade teacher. Apparently day dreaming was frivolous in her world, but for me, it was the number one ingredient to my magical playground.

Fireflies

Dreams…We all have them. Dreaming in the night, daydreaming while awake, dreaming of a future, even broken dreams play an integral part in the makeup of who we are. I tried to remember what  I was daydreaming about all those many years ago. Those memories are long forgotten, but they still played a roll in getting me to where I am today. Everything that has happened in my life has served a purpose and most of it has come about most unexpectedly.  So where do dreams go when they become abandoned or irretrievably lost? It would seem that those fractured pieces line the footpath to our futures as each piece seamlessly fits together like one big giant jigsaw puzzle.  The pieces slowly revealing our own story to us.

There really aren’t any mistakes, just infinite possibilities. I’m reminded of a conversation that I had with a artist friend a few years back. My friend is a painter and she was trying out a new product in one of her art pieces. Initially she called the product a colossal failure, she went so far as to say the product ruined the piece she was working on. She felt frustrated, but she never gave up. In order to salvage her work she began to play around with this new medium. Shortly she noticed that this “mistake” played a pivotal part in changing the way she created art as it opened up avenues for her signature style to emerge. She called it her "happy mistake." She went on to say, “Often when we make a mistake it turns out to be one of the greatest gifts that could happen to us, it seems as though it breathes new life into our work.” Perhaps we should embrace the brokenness instead of trying to cover it up and endlessly apologizing for it. The phrase “broken open” comes to mind. Allowing the portals of our raw darkness a place to transition into the light.

I'll share an excerpt of a conversation my brother and I had the other night. He is always so full of encouragement and wisdom. We were talking about dreams and following our passions and how wonderful and scary it is. This was his exact words to me, "It's that passion inside all of us that keeps us going and gives us a reason. I know it can be scary when you step out and follow that passion...but do it Lynne, go for it! I am so proud of you!" Then he went on to say, "The word for the day is 'Go For It'!" With that heaping helping of encouragement how can I not keep reaching. So what if I make mistakes along the way, it might just open a whole new world of possibilities for me.

Super Moon

Weathering the Storm

I hear the worry in her voice as she asks, “Alfred, it looks bad out there, what do you think, is everything going to be OK?” “Oh Rosie, don’t you worry about a thing, everything is going to be just fine.” My father's reply to my mother. This conversation has played out all throughout my life. My Dad, the one who weathers storms like none other, has helped us navigate through some pretty heavy stuff lately. We have always looked to him for reassurance. So it's only natural when the storms of life pass overhead that this question is asked of him time and time again. His forever reply, "Don't ya worry about a thing."

I just read the definition of “weathering a storm”: To experience something and survive it.

The storms of life are something we all face. It is a reality to our human experience. At times it becomes a series of holding on tight, hunkering down and taking a protective stance until the clouds pass. It’s exhaustive, it wares at our strength, but it's during these times that we quickly find out what we are made of. I believe we are a lot stronger then we realize. A core inner strength that rises when called upon.

But still, I am curious, how do people like my Dad seemingly ride the high waves in such heroic fashion? Whereas others, like myself, ride out the waves in what feels like a rubber dinghy with no paddle, one precarious plunge away from drowning. Recently my Dad and I were driving in the car together and since he was my captive audience I began pelting him for information to all my burning questions about life. “Dad, how is it that you can face hard things and loss with such bravery and I obsess and suffer through desperate emotions that render me helpless? How do you do that? How are you so fearless and I am such a mess of raw emotions?” “Well Lynne, I just do it, life has hard things that happen from time to time, that’s just how life is and there is nothing you can do about it and it doesn’t help to worry about everything. I have learned that you just get through it because there is no other choice.” I love that my Dad doesn’t overcomplicate things. He’s very matter of fact. “You just get through it…” What I walked away with that day is a resolve to dig deep, take a big breath, keep your head down and for goodness sakes, don't stop moving forward. Somehow things have a way of finding their place and working out. The many cycles of life. Some days it rains and the winds may howl but eventually the sun reappears and shines upon our faces once again.

The older I get the more I look to nature to help me sort out all these tough emotions. My mother and I talk a lot about the calming affect the outdoors has on us. The sway of the trees, the birds melodic tunes, the intricate details of a blooming flower, the heady scent of pine. It all plays a part in realigning the fractured places within me.

A couple months ago we noticed a fox den in our farmyard. I would sit out there and watch the pups tussle and play with one another. They didn’t have a care in the world. Biting each other’s tails, rolling on the ground with one another, they were so carefree and at ease. I learned a lot by watching their light hearted play.

I will leave you with these images as a reminder that no matter what battles you are facing today you will find your way through it. The clouds will pass over and the sun will shine again. It will, it always does, for every morning it rises without fail, it's very faithful.

OK...Let's try this again!

After only a mere week and three posts in, my blog crashed and died. Poof. The end.

I am trying to make my way through the bumpy drop off’s of technology. You see, technology and I share in a highly charged love/hate relationship with one another. I adore being surrounded by all my electronic gadgets, but the minute they give me problems, I abhor them! We share good days and some not so good days, but lately we’ve hit a rough patch and now we are barely on speaking terms with one another.

I was just beginning to find my groove and the momentum was building when imagine my dismay of signing onto my blog and seeing that it had gone up in flames. My techie guru (God bless Aaron) is still at a loss of how this could have possibly happened, “I’ve never seen anything like this before,” he proclaimed. I, on the other hand, am so used to the starts and stops of life that it almost seemed par for the course. Oh, and “Who needs backup files!!” so unless the technology gods can resuscitate my blog back to it’s former glory, my old blog posts will be lost forever. Yes, I agree with you, everybody knows you always need to backup your files. Duh. I know, I am rolling my eyes at myself too.

One thing I know for sure is that for all the bumpy roads, detours and failed dreams we face in this life we always seem to find our way back to the green meadows of calm. As I sit here writing, my chair feels softer then it has before, my pulse rate has slowed and my soul is feeling so free. The reminder to once again relax and let life unfold like dewy petals greeting the morning sun.  I don’t have to make everything happen, I only need to show up everyday and what is suppose to open will open and what is to stay closed will remain hidden. The lovely calm transcends as I learn to let go and stop hanging on so tightly to every little detail.

As I've said so many times before, "Let me start all over again."

~The last two photos are from a hike I went on yesterday in Bozeman, Montana.