“There is nothing more beautiful than seeing a person being themselves. Imagine going through your day being unapologetically you.”

— Steve Marboli

via Tumblr.

77.  I still feel – even after ten years – that bedtime is the work of evil spirits, sent to leave me broken and begging for mercy.   Every. Single. Time.

78.  Melatonin was sent by the goddess to make it all okay.

79.  For the love of all things good and holy, listen to my friend Marybeth when she says  “Less Talk.  More Do”.

80.   I should probably start listening to Marybeth**

81.  The world would be a better place if everyone wore pretty lingerie.

82.  And even better if people matched their underwear to their outerwear.  Try it…you’ll see.  My lingerie drawer?   A color coordinated rainbow of beauty.  Truth.

83.  Even after four years of shared custody – especially after four years of shared custody – not having my children with me every day still feels intrinsically wrong.  It’s a little slice of broken heart that never leaves me.  Accepting that this is just so makes it a little easier to bear.

84.  It can take a while to find your groove. If you give it enough space and you are on the right path, the ease will always find you.

85.  The only way to know if you’re on the right path is to keep on trekking.   One foot in front of the other, all the way home.

86.  I am completely and totally addicted to chocolate and refined sugar.

87.  Being almost entirely vegan does NOT mean you are automatically healthy.

88.  When I find myself at social gatherings, unable to eat any of the food, I deal with my resentment by smugly tallying up how many extra empty calories you omnivores are consuming.

89.  Andrea Gibson is still god to me.  I see no reason to pretend otherwise.

90.  And Brandi Carlile is my goddess (and no, six concerts in four years is NOT excessive).

91.  And believing she will marry me one day is NOT delusional.

92.  I don’t confuse your/you’re and know the difference between there/they’re and their, but semi-colons may be the death of me.

93.  Finding out that Betsy Johnson bras in a particular size are the absolute perfect fit for me in every way shape and form AND finding out that they are carried at Last Chance*** for $3.97 was a bit like finding religion (and having a threesome with Andrea Gibson and Brandi Carlile).

94.  Okay, maybe not quite that good.

95.  Justin’s Chocolate Hazelnut Butter.  By the spoonful.  (refer to #86/87)

96.  It is 100% possible to get utterly and completely burned out doing something you utterly and completely love.

97.  If this thing happens to be the basis of your livelihood this creates a bit of a problem.

98.  Sometimes that means you’ve gotta get over yourself and just Get. Shit. Done.  (for clarification, refer to #79/80).**

99.  Hula hoops are not just for children.  Learning that will leave you black and blue and completely exhilarated in a way you have not been in years.

100. A circle of women may just be the most powerful force known to humanity.  If you have one, embrace it.  If you need one, seek it.  If you find one, for the love of all that is good and holy, dive in.  Hold on.  Love it up.  Get naked.  Let them see you.  Let them hold you.  Let your  reluctant tears fall.  Let yourself rise fierce and love gentle.  You will be changed.   The very fabric of your being will be altered by this, if you allow it.   Please, please allow it.

{To my circle (you know who you are) this year would not have existed in the form that it did without you.  I would not have cracked and grown and unfolded and relinquished and laughed and cried and loved the same without you.  My profound gratitude, my unending love, my heart and body and soul – they are yours.}

**In some cases these lessons will be continuing in 2012.
*** If Andrea is my god and Brandi is my goddess, Last Chance is my mecca and my holy grail.

Find Part One Here
Find Part Two Here
Find Part Three Here 

26.  I mostly write to myself.
27.  If I sound particularly authoritative in a blog post it actually means I’m giving myself a stern talking to.
28.  Sometimes I actually listen.  Often I do not.**
29.  If you are going to spout off statements like “I’m not a jealous, insecure person” it’s a good idea to test yourself by putting yourself in a jealousy/insecurity-inducing situation first.  Just sayin’.
30.  Lip service is easy.  Living up to those words is hard.
31. Right/Wrong.  Black/White.  Expand/Contract.  Life is rarely that simple.
32.  But sometimes it actually is.
33. Yes.  This is confusing.  Life is often confusing.  Get used to it. **
34.  If someone says you’re too much for them they are likely not near enough for you.
35.  Mamalove is the stuff magic is made out of.
36.  Sex is natural. Sex is good.  Not everybody does it.  But everybody should.
37.  And also; You’ve gotta have faith, faith, faith-uh.
38.  Word to George Michael.
39.  One way or another, we all grow toward the light.
40.  No can be a profoundly powerful, sexy, badass word.
41.  People are not always what they say they are.  It will always  hurt when you discover what lies below the façade.
42.  This makes it tempting to write off humanity.  Don’t.  Pollyanna was onto something.
43.  Be your own guru, find your own mountaintop – but don’t forget your stilettos.
44. You can do that thing that scares you.  Even if you tremble.  Even if your voice shakes.  Do it anyway.
45.  Fear likes a good lap dance every now and then.
46.  Actually, to hell with that; sometimes fear needs to lap dance for YOU (stuff a few bills in her G-string, then sit back and enjoy one hell of a ride).  A mechanical bull might also be useful.
47.  Comfort zones and creativity do not go hand and hand and the muse is one hell of a dominatrix.
48.  This means that it’s possible that the crazier your life gets, the more brilliant you will become.
49.  This is not an excuse to embrace the crazy.   Just a reminder to make friends with the edge.
50.  Doodles are magic.  Or they can be, if you let them.

Find Part One Here
Find Part Three Here
Find Part Four Here

**In certain instances further life learning will be necessary in 2012.

I’ve always figured that if I’m going to be a copycat, I might as well focus my efforts on emulating the cool kids (copying regular folks is clearly not a good use of time).  And  dude, the cool kids don’t come much cooler than Colleen Wainwright (raising  $61,517 in 50 days for a worthy charity AND shaving her head makes her an easy favorite for coolest-woman-in-the-history-of-the-blogosphere-ever).

Since I love Coleen’s “100 things I learned in…”  series and I’m feeling even more reflective that usual (this having been one hell of a year to reflect on); I decided I’d take my self-indulgent ramblings and my love of lists to a new level.

I give you my very own 100 in 2011 list (in four easily digestible, 25 item, chunks).  I feel cooler already.

100 Things I Learned in 2011 | Part One:

1. If we are at a party and you use the words pejorative, succinct and superfluous in one conversation, I will end up sitting in your lap and nuzzling your neck*.
2. Words turn me on.
3. Ditto that for people who know how to use them.
4. Sometimes I think I might need slightly stricter criteria.**
5. The road from lust to trust is a long and twisty one indeed.
6. You may not make it all the way to the end of every story.
7. Knowing what you need but not insisting on it is a recipe for disappointment.
8. Tightly held expectations are also a recipe for disappointment.
9. Therefore; the secret is to know what you need, be sure to insist on it and then not expect it to be delivered.  Or something like that.**
10.  Ego bruises seem to heal faster than others, but they hurt like a sonofabitch in the interim. Adele helps.
11.  There really is no place like home.
12. After you’ve given up dairy, going veggie is easy-peasy.
13. The otherwise effortless twenty-pound weight loss makes it a complete no-brainer.  Consuming cow flesh or rocking a bikini?  Hmmm….no contest.
14. Exercise really can change you.
15. I do my best writing while I run.
16. Unfortunately I seldom remember any of it.
17. This has taught me much about impermanence and non-attachment.
18. I still come home and try to frantically scribble out all the brilliance before it escapes my brain.
19. Clearly this is another thing for me to work on in 2012**.
20. I still just want to make pretty things.
21. It’s all too easy for me to stop owning it; this year it was often like I just had it on lay-away.
22. Pinterest is the most delicious time-suck ever invented.
23. You will not always get picked for the team.
24. This will always sting just as much as it did when you were 12.
25. We’ve all got dragons to slay.

*My apologies to the cute boy at Jill’s New Years Party.  While your vocabulary and your lap were lovely, the nuzzling may have been a bit much.
**In certain instances further life learning will be necessary in 2012.

Find Part Two Here
Find Part Three Here
Find Part Four Here

These words were written four years ago, at the junction between the end of one life and the beginning of another.  They were my path to boldness when I felt like hiding, solace in the midst of pain, and a reminder to keep moving forward.  Since then they have traveled organically around the world on the mysterious waves of cyberspace – ending up on posters, and in books and even inked on the bodies of strangers.

For the very first time I am making Go Now and Live available as a fine art print in a brand new design.*  The print is currently available as a signed 12×12 print on Fine Art Linen paper.  Other sizes and products (including notecards) are in the works.

I feels good to do this at the start of a new year.  Sending my words out to all of you, with intention and trust and faith that these can lift and stir something in your spirit just as they did in mine.  And I will kiss every print and send it on it’s way on wings of wild, crazy and free,  dreaming beautiful dreams of all the travels these words will take before they are done.

Go Now and Live, sweet souls. This is your year. I can feel it.

Purchase your copy of Go Now and Live or to read more of the story behind the words.

*created by the delicious and delightful Amanda Farough of violetminded Designs.
{all words and design copyright 2012 Jeanette LeBlanc & Amanda Farough}

I run several times a week along the country roads that have known me since babyhood.  I can read them with my eyes closed.  I know where I have to dip my head to bypass low hanging branches and where I can count on a breeze from the incoming tide.    I have not been a regular runner for years, and it feels good to be back.

Running teaches me, clears way for thoughts that needed a space to be born.  There is an education to be had along this path, and I am reminded daily that the lessons of running and the lessons of life are one and the same.

1. Don’t give up too soon.
It takes a while to find your groove.  Don’t quit too quickly, even if it feels like misery, even if you hate every step along the way.  Stop too early and you’ll miss all the magic.   Give it some time to ripen, wait for the ease to find you.   And it will.  If you give it enough space and you are on the right path, the ease will always find you.

When effortlessness hits you’ll smile in spite of your burning muscles and throw your arms wide to catch the breeze.  That’s the sweet spot, right there, where things get juicy and delicious.

2. Breathe.
Don’t forget to breathe.  There is nothing in life not made easier by breath.  Those cycles of inhale and exhale are more important than we think and not near as automatic as we sometimes believe.  There will be times when every breath is an effort, or where you’ll be so caught up with your struggle that you’ll forget to take the air all the way in.

Find your way back to your breath.  No matter where you are in life, your breath is your center.  Honor it.

3. Keep your eyes on the middle distance.
Look too far ahead and you get caught up the difficulty of upcoming terrain.  Keep your eyes too close to your feet and you miss important things ahead.  In the immortal words of Ani Difranco, “When I look down, I just miss all the good stuff.   When I look up, I just trip over things”.

The middle distance is best; far enough ahead to keep your eyes open for potholes and oncoming cars, but not so far that you get intimidated by the hill on the horizon.  Don’t get so far ahead of yourself that you miss what is right in front of you, and don’t get so caught up in right-now that you’re not prepared for what’s coming.   

4. You won’t be climbing forever.
There will always be hills to climb.  They will seem to last forever.  They don’t.  Your legs will scream and your heart will be pumping like mad and you’ll want to collapse in a defeated puddle on the side of the road. You’ll think you can’t make it.  But you will.  Those killer hills will be followed by gentle valleys, or straightaways that give you space to run full tilt.

When you’re on a hill you can’t see what is on the other side.  Don’t even try.  Just know you won’t be climbing forever. 

5. Appearances can be deceiving.
Never put too much stock in what you think you see.  That huge hill may be a gentle climb that won’t even stress you.  That gentle slope might be a bitch of an ascent that will kick your ass.  Sometimes the horizon hides the biggest challenge of your life.  Just when you think you’ve got it figured out, life will throw you a curveball.

Rely less on your eyes and more on your heart.  Whatever is coming and however it looks from a distance, you already have what it takes.  Don’t worry too much about what you have not yet reached; it’s probably not going to be what you think anyway.

6. It’s all a mind game, baby.
You think this is all about your body?  The strength of your quads?  Your cardiovascular health?  How much protein you ate for breakfast? Your body is the easy part of the equation.  It’s really all a mind game, darling.  Let this sink in for a moment and you’ll really start to move.   You think your burning leg muscles are your biggest challenge?  It’s really the power of mind, spirit and heart that will power you through the rough spots.

You want to sprint that hill you think you can’t sprint?  Change your mind.  You want to change your relationship?  Your job?  Your eating habits?  Change your mind.   You want to change your life?  Change your mind.

7. Lead with your heart.
Proper running posture is important.  Head up, shoulders back, chest high, arms pumping front to back to propel you forward.  What this really means is leading with your heart.

Your heart will lead you into things, and if you pay close attention it is your heart that will lead you out.  When your legs give out, and your mind is tired, when you feel like you were crazy to ever begin it is your heart –  your perfect courageous heart –  that will carry you home.

8. Do it in the rain.
Last week I was already running when the rain began in earnest.  It was the last hill of the last mile of my run.   Big fat drops hit the pavement and bounced back up against my legs.  Mist rose off the road and swirled around my legs.  And even though my heart was pounding and my legs burned, a grin spread across my face.  I swear my heart cracked wide open in that one, perfect moment.

There’s a whole lot you should experience in the rain.  Singing. Dancing.  Making Love.  The rain brings life.  Wakes us up.  Quenches our thirst.  We spend a whole lot of time and money trying to keep from getting wet.  Sometimes we need to just get over it and let the rain drench us until we realize what a miracle we are living.

9. Be your own motivation
There will come a day when you are running up hill.  Against the wind.  Your iPod will run out of juice.  A car will drive by and drench you from head to toe with dirty water from a giant puddle.  You’ll get a big ole’ stitch in your side.  It will appear the world is working against you.   There will be nothing on the outside that you can pull from to power you through this.  The only thing you have is you.  You’ll have to stoke your inner fire from gut to heart until you feel your intensity build from within.

There will always be moments where external motivation dries up.   Know that everything you need to cross the finish line is already inside of you.

10. Know when you have something to prove.
Sometimes in life you’re chasing the burn, other times you’re aiming for ease.   On Monday you may be sprinting for first place and on Tuesday praying just to finish. Do you run through that painful stitch in your side or stop and lean into it until it eases?  Do you push yourself to go faster, longer, harder – or do you just satisfy yourself with moving the way your body wants to move?  Do you keep fighting the fight, or just curl up with your tears and some hot tea?

Sometimes you have something to prove, sometimes you don’t.   It is helpful, before you begin, to know which space you’re in.

11. Be your own DJ.
I always exercised to music with an edge.  White Zombie.  Nine Inch Nails.  Eminem.  This summer I made my customary soundtrack and hooked up my headphones, ready to rumble.  But something was missing, the music was not connecting me to the experience.  So I switched it up, entirely.   Twangy country mixed with Coldplay?  Vintage Shakira following Tegan and Sara?  Whatever, it works. Everything in life needs a soundtrack.  Your monotonous desk job.  Your workout.  That crazy clusterfuck of love triangle in which you’ve entangled yourself. The right soundtrack makes everything flow – it clears your mind, energizes your body, heals your broken heart.

Don’t be afraid to edit your soundtrack (read: friendships, lovers, office space, the voices in your head) as needed.   Life does not always call for the exact same beat. 

12. One foot in front of the other.
Running, love affairs, building a business, healing a heart, shattering expectations, climbing mountains, getting your groove on, surrendering with grace.   First place finish or slow and steady – the process is the same.  In the end it’s always a matter of putting one foot in front of the other, until you reach your home.

Ultimately it always comes down to this: it’s just one foot in front of the other, baby, all the way home. 

Yes.

Yes is juicy.  Full of Potential.  Expansive.  It’s that tingle at the base of your spine and the zing in your gut when you’re hooked into something new.  Yes is big.  Bold.  Confident.  It is crazy abundant and it wants to invite everyone to the party.  Yes is wide open and bursting with life.

Yes is what we say when we get the job, get the girl, when we blow the roof off the house during that earth shattering orgasm.

Yes! Yes! Yes! Oh God YES.

No.

No is small.  It’s dragged down by insecurity and limitations.  No is exclusionary and rooted in scarcity.   It’s breakups and closed doors and shutdowns. No is faded and dreary and undesirable.  It’s empty, icky, cold.

No is reserved for when we are rejected, or dejected or saying a sceptical ‘not in your lifetime” to opportunity.  No is risk averse, stuck in safety mode.   It’s crossed arms and protective posture and mad stomping feet.  It screams negation, denial, refusal.  We use no for anger and loss and those big ole’ walls we use to keep out the imaginary tigers.

Hell No.  Hells No.  I said NO.

Oh really?

What if it’s not that simple?

Stop for a moment, right now.  Think of an area or a person or an opportunity in your life where you have been saying yes.   This potential something is full of possibility, could be magic, should make everything bigger and brighter and better.

So why are you dragging your feet?  Why are you collapsing in exhaustion or jealousy or paranoia?  Why are you not leaping headfirst?  Or if you’ve already leapt, why did it feel more like a belly flop than a graceful swan dive.

You said yes.  Yes, but with misgivings.  Yes, but this looks nothing like the picture on the brochure.  Yes, but with a soft “I’m not quite sure” whispering in your ear.  Yes, but with a heaping dose of fear and anxiety and that twisting in your gut that usually accompanies a sense of somethings-not-quite-right-ness.

Does that particular yes feel juicy?  Abundant?  Sparkling with life and gratitude?  Does it feel like you’re really going to blow the roof off with the sheer expansiveness of your soaring soul?  Or maybe, do you feel a little like Meg Ryan-as-Sally did in that infamous restaurant scene – like you’re faking it because you can, or to prove a point, or because it’s easier than the alternative?

Let’s get this clear right now.  You do not have to say yes to grow.  You do not have to say yes to be brave.  You do not have to say yes to everything in order to move mountains or be wild, or succulent or true.

No can be a profoundly powerful word.

Sometimes no is the word that precedes the deepest possible honoring.  Sometimes saying no to potential means wholeheartedly and joyously claiming what already is.  Sometimes no is the simplest way to expand into your own life, fully and completely.

Your real life.  Your right now life.  The life right in front of you and all around you.  The sacred and hallowed space you have already created and committed to.

No can be tender, and inward focused and healing in all the right ways.  It can turn your attention to where it is most needed and bring together all the scattered parts of yourself.  No also has the power to be big, and bold and full of roaring goddess power.  No does not require that we relinquish our spirit and slink off, tails between our legs.

Not even close.  No, offered with reverence and respect for the divinity of what is, can be the most brilliant, blinding force of all.

The yearning for the potential and the ceaseless drive to be more-more-more can pull us away from what is already here.  We want that growth, that magic; we want to explode into life, addicted to the adrenaline of being wide awake and fierce with reality. And there’s a time for all of that.

But sometimes we get caught up in the quest and forget the purpose.  Sometimes we fail to listen to our bodies and souls as they beg us to sit and reflect instead of pushing forward.  Sometimes a quiet and definitive no – one that comes from the purest place inside us – can be the first step back to the vastness of our own experience.  A firmly whispered no, beginning in your heart and moving through your body until it finally bursts forth, can be an inspiring and awesome declaration of truth.

Listen closely now:  No is not always negation.  No can be pure sparkling affirmation.  Sexy, empowering, mind blowing, glittering verification of your own personal power.  A solid confirmation of the wisdom of your wild and perfect heart.

No, not there.  No, not now.  No, not like this.  No, not you.   This does not feel good.  I do not need to push myself this hard.  This is not the right time. This is not what I expected.  I do not always have to hurt in order to learn and grow.  I am already big enough, brave enough, and bold enough.  I have passed this test already, and I have earned this rest.  I am enough, just as I am.  I have more potential than I can comprehend, right here and now.  Look around me, I am blessed beyond measure.  I am exactly where I need to be. I need to be exactly where I am. I am a blessing manifest.

Just one no can stop the roller coaster and drop you off so that you’re facing right where you need to be facing.  Bringing your life, your gifts, your love into divine alignment and giving you exactly the space you require to exhale and expand and become.

And that, my friends can be as spine tingly, expansive, and full of potential as anything Meg Ryan could ever have cooked up by screaming yes in any classic rom-com.  And I’m pretty sure that once the other diners get a glimpse of your spectacular post-no glow – they’ll be requesting a heaping plate of exactly what you’re having.

{All that, and no walk of shame necessary.  Bonus.}

Go on.  Say no.  Feel the alignment.  Breath Deep.  Expand.  Now that’s something I can say yes to.

Kate Inglis

My fellow Maritime girl.  She writes books (real ones).  She takes  pictures (fantastic ones).  She takes care of rude pink-shirt-wearing guys in bar lines (you had to be there).  For sheer talent with words, Kate brings me to my knees every single time.

Plus – she’s the only one on this list I’ll get to drink with this month.  That automatically gives her extra points.

*Scar*

Oh Kate – wise woman, teacher and friend –  thank you.  From a mama determined to break this pointless cycle of self-loathing, thank you.

Try, every step: thank you. Every scent and stretch and touch and yank and knock and growl: thank you.

Jen Lemen

I am a certified Jen Lemen stalker.  I am not afraid to admit it.

*How To Fall In Love, A Beginners Guide*

Remember what I just told you about loving too much?  From the woman who makes me fall in love over and over and over again – with her words, with her art, with her soul.  Erase the page.  Yes!

Let yourself be overcome by the miracle of it, that you stumbled on something divine in human form, and took it all the way into your heart. Go ahead, be ridiculous. Let the smallest thing mean everything. Forget about being rational and classifying this experience in any particular category. You’ll miss out on something amazing if you do that, and trust me, you don’t want to miss it.

Danielle LaPorte

As someone pretty sharp said to me recently – “what a way with conversational deep speak”!  She’s the queen of get to the point/look you straight in the eye/white hot truth.  She talks, people listen.  At least I do.

*loving your doubts: alert, humble and hungry*

This snapped me awake.  You mean my doubts are not something to hide from?  Not a reason to shy away from experience?  Boom.  I’m a new woman.

You can be deeply certain, and slightly doubtful.
You can be scared, and really, really ready.
You can give it your all, and then give it over to God.

Love your doubts. Stay awake.

Julie Peters

This found me on facebook.  And say what you will about me….I know truth when I read it.

*Why Lying Broken in a Pile on Your Bedroom Floor is a Good Idea*

The concept of broken and whole has been playing through my mind and my writing frequently over the past few months.  We are all intrinsically broken, and every last one of us utterly whole.  This piece gave me a new goddess to keep close when i explore my own brokenness and give thanks for how many times I’ve been given the opportunity to put myself back together.

It means nothing unless we can keep on breaking apart and putting ourselves together again as many times as we need to. We are already “never not broken.” We were never a consistent, limited whole. In our brokenness, we are unlimited. And that means we are amazing.

Ronna Detrick

Somedays you stumble across a blog, and then accidentally lose the rest of your day.  Uh huh.  Don’t pretend you don’t know EXACTLY what I’m talking about.  When i found Ronna, I’m pretty sure I lost an entire weekend.  For reals.

*Ready or Not [or: why it doesn't really matter]*

And this post?  If you need to be reminded of your  own wild woman.   If you need to take a leap.  If you need that heart pounding faith in your own glorious self…read this.  Empowered by every last word.

You can trust yourself. You will know when it’s time. You will let go, rise up, speak out, and soar in glorious, glistening beauty and power. Wild and extravagant. I promise.

I’m running.  Not fast, but I’m running.  The gravel is loose under my feet and I can feel my left ankle – the weak one – twinge a little.  My chest burns and I know my face is ridiculously bright red.  I want to stop, especially on those low slung country hills that seem to climb forever.  But I run.  There are yellow buttercups growing in clumps along the side of the road, and I pass weathered barns and rusted tractors and country homes that have stood watch by this  stretch of shoreline for well over a hundred years now.  Drivers who pass me wave and smile, even strangers do that here in the country.  The sun warms me and the breeze cools me.  Music pounds in my head, the strains of Viva La Vida giving me the perfect spirit-lift to push past the discomfort.  This is not easy, but I am smiling.

This is for me.

I’m alone in my room.  The window looks out over rose bushes and a white country church.  If I listen closely I can hear the soft glug-glug of the frogs in the pond across the street. A summer breeze blows in through the open window, bringing with it the scent of growing things.   I am naked; my body still slick with the sweat from my run.  My muscles feel well used.  I’ve connected my phone to a tiny set of speakers, and I let the music play.  I find songs that spin the innate beat of my hips, and they begin to spiral.  The rhythm lives deep in my center, right where the core of my femininity lies.  I begin to move slowly as the song snakes its way inside me and I let the music take me over.   I feel my muscles working, abs, legs, arms, back.  I watch in the mirror, a slow smirk spreading across my face.  I am a seductress, a sorcerer, my siren song sung not in words but by the movement of my body.

This is for me.

I am sitting at the computer.  My skin smells like rose essential oil serum purchased at the farmers market last weekend.  My hair is still wet from the blissfully hot shower.  My muscles are still tingling from my run and my mind is buzzing with stories that beg to be told. To my left I hear my girls giggling in the living room, to my right there is a window that looks out on a gnarly old apple tree that my childhood self has climbed times too numerous to count.  I look straight ahead, the glow of the screen holding all of my attention.   I have so many words dying to be born right now.  My fingers trip over themselves trying to let them all out in the limited time available.  The clickety click of the keyboard sooths my already calm soul as I release some of what lives inside me.  After a long hiatus, I am finally writing again.

This is for me.

I walk along the rocky beach that has known my footsteps since childhood.  A light breeze blows through hair that has not seen brush or hairdryer or styling product in days.  The tide is on the way in, but plenty of beach remains.  My hands are full – of rocks, of brightly colored bits of beach glass, of dried up crab legs.  Treasures, all of them.  My girls walk along side me, all three of us – heads down – scanning the ground for more riches.  An old medicine bottle protruding from the rust colored bank.  A small piece of lavender pottery laying on the rocks after a trip through the sea.  A jagged piece of pink colored gypsum just begging for a home.  Three more things for my hands to hold.  Presence,  for me, is one of the hardest things.  And here I am, utterly and completely in this moment, with these girls, in a place my soul knows as home.

This is for me.

I have taken a step off the roller coaster.  After a relentless spring full of pushing and crashing and endless questions, I am peaceful and centered.  I am breathing again.   I am making choices now, not from fear or insecurities or a ceaseless drive to expand.  I am holding what is sacred and mine in front of me, keeping these gifts in the forefront of my mind at all times.  I chose to honor what is, what needs nurturing, what builds and sustains my heart.   There are no doubts in this space, only clarity.

I don’t need all the answers just now.  I have all that I need – the pounding of my feet on loose gravel, the rhythm of music spiraling my from my hips, the bliss of words flowing from my fingers, the gifts of the ocean held gently in my hands, and the clarity of what is sacred in my life.

This is for me.

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What are you doing – just for you – right now?