Bloomin'

Bloom where you are planted.


I found the above quote on the inside of a cap from a bottle of iced tea I had a couple weeks ago. I threw the cap away without first writing down who said it and when I looked it up, I'm told it's a proverb. Regardless of whose it is, I recognize myself and the next 16 days in it...

...I need to do the best with what I've got.

That sounds a little pessimistic. On the contrary, I feel it's a way of looking on the bright side. It's a way of witnessing what is about to happen with the greatest amount of clarity one can muster. It's a way of fully embodying the phrase that came to me on my birthday...

...let go and ride the wave!

Business is great at the bakery and while it's a blessing, it's not without its challenges. And yet it's the challenges that gear me up, once again, to pull off the impossible. We all know how I love to pull off the impossible.

Bring it on!

But I wonder...perhaps what is coming these next two-plus-weeks can really be done and done from a place of thriving rather than from a place of expecting to have to buckle down and pull myself up by my bootstraps. Instead of having to grin and bear it, maybe I can grin and enjoy it.

Perhaps I say the shipment of 200 gift boxes in one day is impossible not because it is, but because it feeds something in me (not necessarily an altogether positive thing) and is simply my way of sticking to my story. Is anything really impossible if it always gets done?

The story is our go-to place, our drama. The yarn we love to spin in our own heads about the odds we overcome and how amazing it all is. How hard it will be and how important we are for succeeding at such a task. The story is the ego's tale it tells to keep itself feeling special and relevant.

But aren't we already exhausted and spent by living it and replaying it in our heads countless times before the moment even arrives?

There's certainly room for pride in a job well done but why preempt ourselves? Worrying about the future, about what we think will be -- or playing it up -- is only chaos we create in our minds. Why not live in the moment rather than anticipate how difficult, or impossible, we expect something to be? Why not let it be what it is without tallying ahead of time how much effort and cost will be expended in the process?

I've recognized lately that I've grown comfortable in this story and because of it, perhaps I make things even more challenging than they need to be. What if I can set that story aside and do my part -- show up with the intention of being present to the moment and responding to the best of my ability no matter what arrives. Thrive under any circumstances.

Bloom.

200 gift boxes? What 200 gift boxes?

I don't know what you're talking about...it's not next Tuesday yet.//

Until then,

The 12 Brews of Christmas!

Well, we might end up with 13 Brews of Christmas because we went out for dinner and there was one on tap that I don't have in the bottle...

...Sam Adams Winter Lager!

This is a lighter one -- hence the name lager -- compared to what I've been drinking. A little hint of orange, a little hint of spice, beautifully balanced malts. Really nice. I haven't had a Sam's in any shape or form in a long while...perhaps since our trip to Boston this past summer. I've always liked most of Sam's brews and this one is no different. Great stand by.

We brace for our coldest night of the season tonight...single digits are knocking at the door. Hopefully Trooper won't have to go out now until morning.

Nighty night to one and all!

Hibernation

I rolled out of bed this morning as soon as my alarm went off at 6, loaded up the crock pot with ingredients for a quick soup to simmer all day long and be ready for dinner when we got home. Meditation came easily after feeding the geranimals and packing my own breakfast and lunch. After meditating with a kitten in my face (quite the new challenge), I got ready for work and left the house.

All this by 7am.

The beautiful thing is that I didn't feel rushed. Bing, bing, bing, it was one thing after the other, riding that wave. Was it knowing I was planning ahead that felt so good and effortless? That I was taking care of myself? Whatever it was, it was peaceful and joyful and fulfilling.

After a long day at the bakery, coming home to the smell of dinner ready was a dream -- I was so excited! To know all I had to do was take a shower and eat filled me with such gratitude I could hardly contain myself. What a different feeling than coming home exhausted and knowing dinner prep and cooking and cleanup still needed to take place. It was as if someone lovingly prepared a meal for us and left it on our doorstep for our dining pleasure out of concern that we were terribly busy and needed a hand.

Indeed, someone had...it was me!

Thanks, me! : )

Somehow it makes it much more special. Really. To plan ahead for the care of our own needs means we matter. That I'm a priority. That what I need is important. What a switch!

Guess I do know how to retain some sanity after all. It does require presence and conscious choices and a different kind of focus. But it is so very worth it.

And somehow once I started taking care of myself today, it made it easier to continue as the day went on.

I actually sat down for something to eat this afternoon when I was hungry. I drank plenty of water throughout the day. I did a little stretching, breathed into my five minute routine and even finished my meditation for the night before sitting down to blog.

What a difference a day makes. Especially a day with a little forethought and deliberate intention. Nice!

Even with a couple more hours of work with stuff I brought home this evening, all the self-care made all the work more balanced. And bearable.

This, I can do.

For now, it's time to finish up and get to bed for a long winter's nap night's sleep to prepare for another conscious day tomorrow. In honor of the snuggle fest ahead, complete with a kitten sleeping at my feet (or so was the program last night), I've chosen a special brew for tonight's installment of the...

12 Brews of Christmas!
For the fifth brew of Christmas, my true love poured for me...

...Great Divide Brewing Company's Hibernation Ale!

Yum, and yum!

Malty and hoppy, a little coffee, a little smoke, and some caramel to balance it out. Again, a bit more bitter on the finish than I usually prefer, but this one is so much more balanced than the one yesterday, more subtle flavors that blend into a big tasting beer. Dark, yet not nearly as thick as day two -- in all fairness, that one was a stout. Hearty without heavy, warming and flavorful without being overpowering.

And I LOVE the label.

What can I say? Never underestimate the power of a super cool label.

Only available through December 15th, so strap on your skis and glide on over to The Ale Jail and check it out before it's gone. It's probably available other places, too...I just tell you what I know!

NOTE: No kickback for me from The Ale Jail -- just happens to be my favorite beer shop in town and I love to promote the places that I love!

What's For Dinner Tonight?
A couple weeks ago, I was at my brother's and he had a crock pot full of his version of Chicken Posole going. It was so scrumptious, I made him write down his made-up recipe for me.

And now, I share it with you! (Thanks, Pete!)

Chicken Posole
3/4 roasted chicken, mix of white and dark meat
32 oz. chicken stock
28 oz. can green chile enchilada sauce*
2-10oz cans ro-tel tomatoes (original)
2-15oz cans white hominy
1-7oz can diced green chiles (my addition)
salt to taste, if necessary

*I used 2-8oz pouches of Frontera green enchilada sauce and a cup of water since Frontera is so concentrated. Delicious!

Throw it all in the crock pot and put on low all day long. It was about 10 hours for us and it was fantastic. Chopped up some fresh cilantro and served with sour cream, tortillas...great with any of your favorite fixings.

I never did get any pictures because I was starving and we just plain ate it. Plus, brothy soups are notoriously challenging to photograph well and frankly, it was unessential this evening. But you got the recipe! And trust me, it's awesome! So warm, a little of da spice, comforting and filling.

Perfect ending. Just what the self-care doctor ordered on a cold winter's night.

Did I mention that below freezing temps have arrived on our doorstep and unpacked, expecting to stay awhile??!?

Stay warm and sleep tight!

Holding On

Ever since I started meditating daily, a little more than a year ago, I've started to notice where I'm holding tension in my body.  I always used to think it was exclusively in my neck, my shoulders, all those trouble spots I get a talking to from when I go to the chiropractor or for a massage.  I didn't realize it, but there's more.

Lots more.

Do I have that much tension?  It doesn't seem like it, especially since starting meditation and getting back into yoga (asana) practice...you'd think I'd be as relaxed as relaxed can be.  Or at least I think I should be!

So imagine my surprise when every single time I sit in meditation, the muscles in the back of my right knee and thigh tense up almost immediately.  When I first noticed this, just a few weeks after I started meditating regularly, I was intrigued by it.  I tried everything I could to relax it.

I thought maybe it was how I was sitting, that the muscles in that leg somehow thought they needed to fire differently to support me.  But I was sitting in simple cross-legged pose.  How much easier can it get?  So I tried sitting with my left leg crossed on top...didn't help, nor did my left leg respond the way my right one did to being on the outside.

So I tried just being aware of it. Being aware of it does help -- noticing it matters and gets me to consciously relax it every time I feel it. But it hasn't made it go away. Isn't that what they say, being aware of the problem is the first step to recovery?

Where's the recovery?

So I had to ask the hard question: What am I holding on to?  And why won't I let it go?

Part of the issue many of us have with our bodies is that we don't want to feel what's going on, because then we feel we're supposed to do something about it.  We feel a pain and our first instinct is to make it go away.  We think our bodies are supposed to be this perfectly healthy, perfectly relaxed vehicle that we get to cruise around in -- takes all the abuse, requires none of the upkeep.  We expect it to feel great all the time, perform great under pressure, and just show up when we need it.

But maybe our bodies are holding onto things for a reason.  Maybe they've got something to say.

Maybe, this mysterious, constant tension in the back of my leg stays for exactly this reason -- it's got me noticing and paying attention.  It's serving a purpose in the larger scheme of things.  Maybe if it trains me to pay attention to my body in times other than meditation, if it allows me to notice when I've stopped breathing or my shoulders are up in my ears, so I can consciously relax during other times of my day, maybe it's doing its job.

And if it wants to stay, who am I to say otherwise?

Maybe it doesn't have to go away.  Maybe I don't need to control it.  Maybe I just get to listen.  Maybe it gives me the opportunity to practice presence, acceptance, and patience.  And gratitude.

And maybe that's enough.

What are you holding onto?//

What's For Dinner Tonight?
I've got a staff meeting tonight at the bakery to prepare folks for the onslaught of the holidays fun and exciting weeks ahead. I've been saying all day that I can't believe Thanksgiving is next week.  Can you believe it?? Yikes!

So it's a pizza party for me around the production table.

How 'bout you?

Whatever it is, I wish you a great night!

Weeks 34-38 - Trusting Presence

"Who can predict the wind?" ~Nicolas Cage as David Spritz in the movie The Weather Man


This past month has been a frustrating one, mainly because I have been resisting what is right in front of me -- the weather. It has been an unusually cool, wet, and very long spring to go along with our recent cold, snowy, and very long winter. I've had it in my head ever since March that soon the warmth and the sun will come and then -- and apparently only then -- I will happily get out for walks, get out in the garden, and lounge outside in the afternoons and evenings with a good book as I love to do. I've been watching the weather way too often, taking the forecasts way too seriously, and waiting...and waiting...and waiting for some picture perfect nirvana to appear so I can get on with my life.

Wow. When had I stopped living because of the weather? There's a testament to my own stubbornness if ever there was one. What hubris is it that when the weather differs from what the forecasters say, I feel as if I've been lied to? Betrayed even? Who am I to stop living my life simply because the weather doesn't suit me or isn't what I've been "led" to expect? Am I really taking on Mother Nature here? Holding out until she bends to my will?

My husband and I have been working on a rain garden which, given the amount of actual rain we've had lately, has gone in fits and starts. As I prepared to work on the dry-creek-bed-portion-of-the-program this weekend, the weather was "supposed" to be beautiful. Saturday's "promised" sunshine never appeared and instead was endless clouds and rain. I went to the landscape store for river rock, despite the rain. I figured I'd at least get that done. When I got home, the rain turned light and the area for the creek bed, which runs under a tree, was still relatively dry so I started digging and shaping and building.

As I began my work, I heard the voice in my head cursing the stupid weather-people who can never get it right. "Never! They lie to us again and again. How do they get paid for that?!?" I heard it say how impressive it was that I was out working anyway and shouldn't I get some sort of kudos for my tenacity and my willingness to work under these conditions.

Really? My willingness?!? Oh, what an ego rears its heads at such moments and can carry us away on a litany of self-importance. I tuned in to my thoughts -- really heard them this time -- and I laughed. How could I not? It was this kind of self-talk that I recognized as the source of my discomfort these past weeks as I waited endlessly for the perfect moment, the perfect conditions, the perfect situation to let go of my resistance and start living my life again.

There's a humility that comes in surrendering to the present moment that even after 38 weeks of this meditation project I'm still astounded by. I've been reminding myself that in presence there's no place for forecasters and predicting the future -- the conditions we are living in are whatever they are right now, in this moment. What is, is. If it's raining, the rain will fall. That's all. Until it doesn't...then it won't. It is what it is. Period. Any energy expended expecting it were otherwise is an exercise in crazy-making. Something we humans are so good at.

As I've written so many times in the past eight months, we can continue to wish for things to be different, question "why me?", feel betrayed when things don't go the way we expect, but this only brings suffering and it's completely self-induced. The only thing that matters is what is, right now, in this moment and how we respond to it. How we respond is within our power -- and little else. Hubris, and the chattering of the mind, is a reaction we have when we let the ego take over. But to see the folly of the ego for what it is, to find the laughter in it, we create space that allows us to be present with what we encounter in this moment, no matter what it is. There are no victims here. If we trust presence, rather than trusting ego, our conditions may not be ideal, but we can get out of our heads and accept the freedom -- and responsibility -- of living a life of our own intent.

As I continued work on the rain garden, I recognized the ego and in doing so, moved happily out of my head and into my experience. I was able to take in the singing of the birds, the beauty of the wind rustling the leaves of the tree that sheltered me beneath its branches. The light rain came and it went and still I stayed, hour after hour, crafting and getting lost in my task, lost in the present moment. I was like a kid playing in the sand, creating a fortress with my own two hands and entirely one with what was going on around me, entirely at peace. I belonged, only, it seems, because I was able to let go and simply be with what was...rain and all.

I am humbly reminded that the conditions don't matter -- only the creating, the playing, and the living do. Thank you -- once again -- for the reminder.//

Weeks 26 & 27 - Peaceful Mind

Spring has most definitely sprung, although I guess you wouldn't know it with an April snow predicted this weekend. But alas, such is Spring in Minnesota! The weather has been absolutely gorgeous, sunny and pushing 70. The tulips have breached their soil ceiling, the maples are sprouting seeds. After weeks of itching to get outside and plunge my hands into the dirt, my prayers have finally been answered. And to my wonder and amazement, my life in the garden has been significantly altered.

Let me back up a moment and describe for you the way it normally goes. Normally, I get home from work after a drive that I don't remember because my mind is completely occupied by prioritizing the numerous things I want to get done in the yard and garden today. After letting Trooper out, I flounder for a while wondering what I can wear that I don't mind getting dirty, while I'm mentally planning out what tools I need so I can try to get everything together and not have to make a thousand trips to the garage. By the time I get outside, an hour has gone by and I start to feel anxious about the fact that the sun has moved behind a cloud and how little I fear I'll be able to get done compared to what I expect to get done. Once I start weeding or planting or whatever it is I end up doing, my mind is off rehashing my day at work or wondering what we're going to have for dinner, or.... Well, it's not pretty, but you get the picture.

And now as for my wonder and amazement: I pull in the garage after a perfectly peaceful drive home, let Trooper out, notice a weed in the garden and end up with my hands in the dirt. I putz along for as long as feels right, taking in the sun and the breeze, the chattering of squirrels and singing of the birds. All along, my mind is a sweet, complete and delicious blank.

Makes me want to take a deep breath, just to write it. Everybody now..."ahhhhhhhhh".

Now that's what connection is all about. I've heard about it, I've certainly written about it, but I wonder if and for how long I have actually experienced it. Until now. I no longer worry about the clothes (my jeans can be washed) or the list of what needs to be done (whatever presents itself in the moment is what needs to be done) or which tools I have (if I'm missing something, it's a nice excuse for a walk).

And that, I guess, is the key: I no longer worry.

Nor do I fuss. Nor do I try so hard. Now, it isn't an always...I am a work-in-progress, after all. But somewhere along the line I find I've stopped having to think everything through or plan everything to a T. I no longer feel the need to nail everything down. Now and again I still find myself jotting down a list of to-do's, but it's mainly now about making space than it is about making sure I don't forget. If I forget, maybe it wasn't so important in the first place. I now allow room for that possibility.

If I had to put a name on it, I guess I'd have to say I'm trusting more. Whatever arrives is what's required -- no matter what that something is. If I missed the sun and rain has taken its place, what can I do? It is what it is. Maybe today was meant for reading a book instead. Honestly, this never used to occur to me -- if I had an agenda, come hell or high water, things needed to get done. Don't get me wrong...I'd read my book, but with guilt cozying in along next to me. The jeans I crawled around in the other day, which happen to be my favorites, now have stained knees...which only means it's time I really learned how to treat mud stains more effectively. When I feel like being done for the day -- especially when my back tells me so -- I'm done. No guilt, no frenzy because something didn't get done. Tomorrow is another day.

I can't help but wonder -- was I really this bad? Who knows...maybe only in my mind. Which seems to be the point -- meditation is essentially about learning to work with the ramblings of the mind. Not to fight them, not to control them, but to work with them. When it has a mind of its own (pun intended), the mind is impossible to live with. When it learns to relax, when it's willing to take a break now and then, when it's willing to work in service of me rather than against me, it's not so bad to be around. Lately, it's not so bad to be around. Clearly, this meditation thing is paying off.

This may not sound like the first moon landing to anyone, but this is mind-blowing (pun not intended, but it works...) for me. Without all the mindless mental gymnastics, I can hear my body when it's talking to me, I can be a part of my surroundings, I can participate in the moment, I can listen to my heart. And I can respond. Not react, but thoughtfully and purposely respond.

My mind has become a peaceful place -- I've never known such beauty in the world. There is gratitude here I can scarcely describe.

I finally feel as though I've crawled out from under my own thumb. I feel like I get to live again, but the funny thing is, I never even knew I was dead. Maybe that's a little drastic. Perhaps I was merely hibernating. Perhaps the true me was like the flowers and the trees that are once again coming alive, to fully embrace a new cycle of this Life.

So the question begs, what will this new season be like?//

Weeks 24 & 25 - The Meditating Dog

Just when I thought I had this meditation thing all figured out (famous last words...), a few weeks ago, I began to have company in my twice-daily forays into stillness. One morning, as I situated myself for my morning meditation, my dog, Trooper, decided she was going to sit as well...on the same cushion I sit on.

This cushion, called a zabuton, is a futon-like pad maybe three feet square, that takes up one corner of the soul cave. If I sit with my back crowded into the corner there is almost enough room for the both of us -- if she curls up into the tightest ball possible, nestled into the crook of my folded legs. This is a trick for a 60 pound dog, but she does it remarkably well and she's getting better with practice.

The first time she did this, I just laughed and moved around in any way I could to make room for her and we settled in. I figured, if she wanted to give it a go, who was I to stop her? I was sure it would be a one time deal. Then over days, morning and evening, she continued on and I took up my new position at the back of the mat.

In the beginning, I kept wondering if she was just there to sleep while I did my work, to rub it in. But the more I experience it, the less I think so. For one, there isn't all the twitching and kicking and whimpering that goes on when she sleeps and dreams. She's generally a big snorer...and she's never snored during our sessions. She lays as still as can be and breathes her smoothly connected breath, slowly in, slowly out, equally timed and never rushing. I aspire to meditation breathing that effortless and beautiful, I assure you.

For two, she lets out a plaintive whine every once in a while like she's waiting to be done and is struggling with how long it's taking. Does this sound familiar? Maybe she's even asking, as I have, "my god, are you sure you set the timer? This is taking forever!" It's a nearly silent whine, just enough to let out some pent up energy -- probably the very same kind of energy that makes my legs twitch, or makes me want to shift around because I'm antsy or impatient, unable to silence my mind and relax into things as they are.

It's as if by sitting with me she's given herself a task, too -- perhaps not meditation per se, but a practice in patience maybe? Either way, we both have our work and we do the best we can with what that day has to offer us. Some days I twitch and she whines...some days we both sit peacefully through until the buzzer releases us. Like me, some days she does better than others. We're a work in progress. The fact is, she's trying...or so it seems. I like to think we're in this, growing and changing, together.

Now you may remember, almost ten weeks ago I wrote about Trooper's crazy antics and how distracted and frustrated I was that she wouldn't leave me alone while I sat. And now here she is, participating in the process -- a kind of, if you can't beat 'em, join 'em mentality. It is certainly something I never, in a million years, would have imagined.

The more we think we know, the more life reveals to us that we don't. To this, I say, halleluja! I'm finding the longer I do this, the more surprised I am -- daily -- by the capacity of all of us to develop new ways of being in the world. I wonder if we're traditionally so busy grasping at how we expect things to be or trying to make things stay predictable that we almost can't notice the incremental changes that occur in us and our lives with every new thing we -- or those around us -- are willing to try...no matter how small. Me? I want to notice.

Perhaps this is what presence is all about.

It is said that change is the only constant. And yet we are creatures of habit and routine. This meditation project itself is about developing a new routine! And yet even the routines need to change. We need to ride the edge of what's comfortable, of what's expected in order to keep moving, to keep making progress, to keep our minds open and free from fixating on the idea that we think we know. Inviting change, welcoming it rather than resisting it, keeps us in the present moment, aware of these small shifts that occur, connected to Life.

Where would I be in my practice if Trooper hadn't comandeered my cushion those weeks ago? I'm not sure. But perhaps by experiencing this meditation partnership Trooper and I are currently engaged in -- the fact that she tried something new and I've made space for it -- I can be more present and pay more attention to the wonder of what I don't know, rather than the flat, static, safe monotony of what I think I do. This new way feels surprisingly more natural.

And I can say, "Yeah, my dog taught me that."//

Weeks 21 & 22 - Inner Gardening

One of the things I loved most about our new house when we bought it 18 months ago was that there were no existing gardens. The previous owners had dug up all of their flowers and transplanted them to their new digs. Which was perfect as it left me with half an acre of blank canvas to play with.

Since we moved here from a townhouse where I had gardened illegally for ten years, I did the same as the previous owners and brought my flowers with me. Moving in late September, there wasn't enough time to plan that first flower bed, so I simply dug up an area by the house to get my rag-tag collection of irises in the ground before the first winter. I wouldn't exactly call them a garden. A holding pen maybe, but not a garden. Functional but not at all what it could be. If only I knew what I wanted to create!

Let the absence of actual paintings and the plethora of painting paraphernalia in my soul cave be a testament to how much I enjoy blank canvas. I have spent the better part of my life desperate for open space to garden, soil to sink my hands into and cultivate, sacred ground in which to pour my passion for fostering growth. And yet ever since my wish was granted, I've wondered...what will be my first broad stroke across this wide expanse of green?

Sometimes we just don't know what we're looking for until we dare to ask the question.

Last week, my husband and I went to a workshop sponsored by our city about how to build a rain garden. Along with a date to the Home & Patio Show, it seemed as good a place as any to start exploring. Besides, what more perfect time is there than pre-spring to decide on the projects that will dot the landscape of our summer?

At the workshop, I came face-to-face with what I didn't know I had been looking for. The organizers of the workshop, a trio of self-proclaimed native plant geeks, did a presentation on the local flora and fauna, past and present. We were shown a map from 200 years ago that laid out our county in its natural state -- what the plant composition consisted of around the time it was settled. Prairie flowers and grasses, and stands of woods consumed every square inch. Then we were shown the same map today stripped of nearly 99% of that original vegetation. I wasn't the only one in the room who audibly gasped.

Of course they were preaching to the choir, right? A room full of nature lovers, of course we would be horrified. They went for the wow-factor and got it. But they weren't simply telling tales of woe, they were giving solutions. We were the solution. Nothing fires me up more than being invited to find my place in the way of things. There was no guilt...just common sense solutions. Connection and responsibility. Lessen the affect of the runoff from my house? Improve the quality of the local watershed? Reintroduce native plants that will provide a respite for migrating Monarchs and songbirds? Create natural spaces that allow our land to heal and return to the self-sustaining splendor of what it once was? All by planting native gardens? You betcha! I'm in.

This past week has found me reading up and drawing maps and choosing plants. In doing so, it has occurred to me that in gardening and meditation our intent can be one and the same: to gently reestablish the natural order of things. In the garden, by investing in what supports the local ecosystem as it was meant to be, we enable the plants and all manner of wildlife to flourish. In meditation, by creating space for our true nature to reveal itself and take hold once again, and by letting go of the invasive beliefs, attitudes and behaviors that keep us from remembering who we are, we reconnect with what is essential to our authentic growth. In both, we can take responsibility for our place in the way of things and do our part. Gardening, meditation...meditation, gardening...same thing.

We create space, we show up, we do the work, we enjoy the process. Had I known I had all the open ground I needed inside of me, I would have started gardening much sooner.

While I can hardly wait for a fresh cutting of garden flowers on my kitchen counter, I'll keep working on the inner garden for now...the rewards of both are sweet enough.//

Week 7 - Gratitude

The Universe is naturally abundant. The things you truly need or want are here for the asking. ~Shakti Gawain


Preceding the season of giving is the season of giving thanks. Given that it's two days before Thanksgiving, this seems as good a time as any to shout out to my supporters, my guides, my mentors and friends and express my gratitude for your presence in my life. Anyone who takes the time to read these words, I thank you. It is such a gift to be able to muster the courage to write, to do this thing I love, and to put myself out there. And to think that someone might read the thoughts, feelings and musings I thread together -- much less get something out of it -- well, it's almost too much to ask for. I guess that takes some courage, too. Most of all, though, I'm just grateful. Wholly, humbly and profoundly grateful.

As I was meditating tonight it occurred to me that I'm still only halfway through my first "trimester". If I were really pregnant, what would it be like to be a mere seven weeks in? Man, wouldn't I just be getting used to the idea of being pregnant? The myriad ways my life was bound to change just a glimmer on the horizon?

I think about the changes I've encountered so far, and I'm amazed. The peacefulness that permeates most of what I experience in a day. Creativity that beckons me in all aspects of my life. The patience to deal with the needs of those most important to me. And gratitude -- I find myself thankful for everything...even in challenge there is some gem of a lesson to unearth to be grateful for.

Now, I like to think that I've always been a person who was quick with a thank you. To co-workers for a job well-done. To friends for their thoughtfulness. To the Universe for the sheer beauty that surrounds me daily. In fact, it was bred into me -- my mom had me and my brother writing thank you's as soon as we could write. Even Santa was in on it -- we always got thank you notes in our stockings on Christmas morning...how did he know?

Maybe now it is simply about a deepening. Maybe this daily meditation just helps me to focus more on what is good in my world, to not get caught up in what is or might go terribly wrong. And when it does, to be thankful for the inevitable blessings that come with it. Being more present surely allows us to see the beauty of what's right in front of us. To reconnect with the joyful souls we were born to be.

We don't exist here in a vacuum -- we're connected whether we realize it or not. With our fellow human beings, with Nature, with the creative Source. In partnership, by asking for what we feel would satisfy and inspire us in our lives, we give the Universe the opportunity to collaborate with us...to shower us with the abundance it has to share. But it's a team effort. We need to show interest. We need to learn how to ask. And we need to be willing to say thanks.

What amazes me more than witnessing how I've grown thus far, is to imagine what thirty-three more weeks of this may have to offer. And to know that the act of meditation itself is the asking, both for what I want and need. I am grateful to learn firsthand that nothing is as simple as that.

Happy Thanksgiving!//