When I’m Feeling Lost

Cucumber Plant Spiral


Yesterday I realized that it has been well over a month since I have blogged or written a single, meaningful word anywhere.

As the summer was winding down and my heart felt full with the anticipation of season’s change, I wanted so badly to rededicate myself to this place and to my creative side in general. I wanted the comfort of routine, and to feel like I was doing something important. At the very least I will post once a week, I told myself, not really knowing what was in store for me.

When I was in San Francisco for those few days two months ago, I spent one full day buried under the covers of my hotel bed, too sick to leave my room, my brain capable of processing only two things: how I just wanted to go home, and all of the things I was missing out on. Anyone who has been to San Francisco knows its magic. While I may have been buried under sheets and blankets, I could still hear the sounds of the city from the other side of the window~people, movement, excitement, life. And there I was  on a Friday at noon, in too much pain to even lift my head from my pillow.

My illness has persisted with a vengeance since my time away. The days have been long, painful and lonely. There are moments when I can’t feel parts of me. There are times when it feels like liquid fire is shooting through every inch, deep down through every bone, vein and nerve, and in an instant that fire turns agonizingly ice cold. My tired mind doesn’t have any other way to explain it.

There have been times when I have sat down to express myself here, and the words just wouldn’t come. Or they would come, and I felt they were too raw and dark and honest, which isn’t what I wanted. Then I would worry and stress about never coming back here and having something meaningful to say. I resent my identity as a sick person. I want to defy these laws I have been forced to live by and bend illness to my will, so when I want to make plans, when I want to be smart, when I want to feel pretty, and when I want to be witty, vivacious and interesting, I can be.


 To feel less lost, I have dedicated my energies to creating the best possible days for myself. Days filled with hot baths, sunshine, meditation, cozy jammies, doggie cuddles and lots and lots of sleep. I haven’t managed much more than that. The pain is still too great. But in spite of it, I still feel ridiculously grateful for a few precious things.

For my family.

For my home.

For new friends both near and far.

And for this gorgeous unbreakable safety net of love that is all mine.

Better days are surely coming soon. I also thank those of you who have shown concern for my baby girl Grace. Good news. She has a digestive condition that can be treated with medication. We are very thankful indeed that our baby is going to be just fine.

Wishing everyone a beautiful week, and a beautiful fall.

white pumpkin

Into The Light

I turned 41 last week.

I seem to become more thoughtful and reflective than usual when a birthday approaches, and this habit lingers in the weeks following. As this earthly time ticks away, going faster and faster with each precious year, my mind meanders through those questions:

Will I ever do this? Will I ever achieve that? Will these eyes ever see that far away place I have dreamed of since I was a child? 

Will the rest of my life be blessed with good, stable health? Or will it always be the same?

The leash of illness has felt awfully, painfully tight of late. In times like these all my heart longs to do is turn to something much bigger than myself; to lay my eyes upon miracles and unspeakable beauty, things that even the most poetic verse simply cannot touch.

So to celebrate, I spent a gorgeous late morning with my husband at Muir Woods. The California Redwood is something that truly needs to be seen in one’s lifetime; photography and brilliant words are not enough to capture their majesty. Hundreds of feet high, centuries and sometimes thousands of years old, sunlight shining through them as if the gracious hand of God is reaching down, they possess a calm and peace that cannot be described, it can only be felt as you stand, so diminutive at their feet.

I could hear the gentle, comforting rush of a creek. I could see a tiny fawn feeding within feet of its gorgeous mother. And I thought to myself that these very same things~water slipping over grey, cold rocks and a family of deer eating peacefully in the shadow of these giants~perhaps happened in this very same spot centuries and maybe even a thousand years ago. Before modern people and modern life.

Before us.

Before me. 

And these very same things will happen long after we are gone.

Muir Woods, California

California Redwood

Muir Woods, California

Fawn, Muir Woods CA

age of a fallen redwood

909 AD: A tree is born

1100 AD: Building of cliff dwellings begins~Mesa Verde, Colorado

1325 AD: Aztecs begin construction of Tenochtitlan, Mexico

1492 AD: Columbus sails to America

1607 AD: Jamestown, Virginia founded by English colonists

1776 AD: The Declaration of Independence

1849 AD: The California Gold Rush

1908 AD: Muir Woods National Monument established

1930 AD: Tree falls

Muir Woods, CA

Experiences like this always make me feel the same.

I am really, really glad that I was born.

And I’m really, really glad that I am here.

I cannot think of a greater gift.

The light will come and find you. You only need to bring the mind to rest. ~ Fay Hart

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