You Don’t Need a Valentine

Love is for everyone, everyday! But what if you don’t have a mate?

I’ve found that even if you do have a one-and-only, it doesn’t mean that you are always in full alignment with the truest love – the love with yourself.

I did a lot of healing with my own heart before I finally met the Bohemian. But even after finding my soul mate I still had pockets within that were less than loving towards myself.

At the end of 2016 I was so tired of living with the self-critical voices in my head, I locked myself in a room of steam, surrendered to sweat, and earnestly requested the Powers that Be to help me. I longed for release from the weight of all of my self-directed negativity. I wanted to feel that unwavering love in my heart again.

The surprisingly clear message I received in that hazy heat was to begin by changing what I was feeding my cells. It was time to raise the vibration. I flashed on a friend and that thing she’d posted on Facebook. Some kind of cleanse with superfoods that made her feel a whole lot better.

I didn’t want to talk to anyone about the way I’d been feeling. I didn’t want to enroll in any program. But I had asked for guidance in that steam room and if this was the directive I’d been given, I’d comply. I stepped beyond what was comfortable and I humbly reached out to her to learn more.

What transpired in the short 10 days after beginning to put those superfoods into my body has changed my life forever. Yes, I shed 8 pounds in 10 days by healthily nourishing my body. But that was only a byproduct of something even deeper. What happened to my mind, my heart, and my spirit was even more profound. I was raised to the next level, no longer wallowing in that familiar stagnant pool of negativity and doubt. The berating thoughts dissipated and what replaced them was more patience, more appreciation, more gentleness with myself. I was home again. I felt the love!

It’s hard to be this candid on such a public forum, but if my sharing here helps anyone to reach out of their own funk into the radiance that they truly are, then these words are worthwhile.

There are tools to help us, and they come in the form of plants! Contact me and I can help you learn about these tools for yourself.

I give thanks to Tangled Roots for this incredible song that was part of the soundtrack during the 10 Day program of my heart opening.

To all the Lovers of the world: Love is for everyone and it’s in our own hearts every moment…just waiting to open up and flow!

It IS so good!

Only Love

It’s not yet 7am, and you’re behind the wheel of the Toyota, coming out of a curve on a pot-holed, back road. Your road. The one you drive every morning at this time, your 12-year-old in the passenger seat beside you.

There’s more light in May, and the lifting sun’s rays now shine through the windows on your arms. The interior is quiet, but for the playlist shuffling on the stereo, soft but audible. You are both still waking up, each following the thoughts that stir and stretch.

You reflect on recent news. An acquaintance, not an intimate friend, but someone you’d known for years. You’d both seen Bruce Cockburn in concert. He’d turned you on to Patty Griffin. He’d moved from your small town many years ago, but sometimes your paths would cross during one of his return visits. Last time you saw him he gave you one of his own self-produced CDs. He asked, like always, “So, how old’s Jeb now?”

You’d say the age, your hands gesturing height in relation to your body. You’d both nod heads, affirming, “I know…time goes quickly.”

But he knew better than you. Two grown children in their twenties. He was long past pre-teen years.

You just learned he’s gone. You’d never known he had cancer. Never heard he passed away. That was two months ago. Was he even 50?

These are your early morning sunshine thoughts, as you drive your boy to the bus stop. Ben Howard’s “Only Love” is on the radio. The song is “our song” for you and your husband. And in this moment, this song is “the song” for the Now.

Your heart is flushed to bittersweet, full-capacity, as you click on the blinker for a right-hand turn at the stop sign. All of this is all there is, and all of this – you’re learning – will vanish.

You love your son. So deeply, you cannot touch the depths.
Does it matter if he does his homework?
These days will change, and you realize that you do not even know what this means.
How did you become this 42-year-old mother driving down a rural, island road?
You hope that you’ll remember these beautiful early rays making gold on shimmering tree tops, when you get home to a sink full of dirty dishes.

You feel the All of Everything welling up to fill your eyes. You reach over and pat the knee of your growing boy. He sees you. Squirms in his seat with your nostalgia. Knows you have these moments sometimes.

Ever so soft through the speakers, Ben Howard sings, “Darling you’re with me, always around me…Only love, only love…”

Driving with your son, your boy, in this moment, you feel only love. And that one-and-only, well, he can barely sit with it. He smiles, sheepishly, glancing at the radio dial with a respectful request.

“Mom, can we turn it down a little?”

2016-05-09_jeb sunlight


Behind the Moon

Gone are the days, sixteen years ago, when I was with Jeb’s dad (no Jeb yet). I had a couple hundred dollars in the bank, living in a school bus up on blocks, wondering how far beyond 300,000 miles my Subaru would go.

Now I’m 42 in a Prius (color, “Pure White”). My husband (not Jeb’s dad) and I bought it used, but it looks brand new. It hovers low to the ground, a suburban vehicle, not built for off-road, barely skirting speed bumps.

In the back seat is a twelve-year-old and a Labrador. My pre-teen vies for use of ear buds with his smart phone, but I’ve established a no-headset rule in the car.

I am grateful for a reliable, gas-efficient automobile, a healthy, insightful son, and a sweet-natured, four-legged companion. Each of these is a wish, made realized. But maneuvering us all in the driver’s seat of this scene, I feel as though I’ve been cast in a movie. Given props and a costume for a role I’ve yet to fully embody. Who is this middle-aged lady in the station wagon, with a budding teen, and a dog?

What happened to Jeb’s booster seat, and me, passing back pieces of organic rice cakes, while we both sang, enthusiastically, to the music I loved, and he liked too? When Matt Costa’s “Behind the Moon,” was Jeb’s all-time favorite, and we could crank it over cruddy speakers on the short car ride to pre-school.

Now here I come
To dance around the sun
I’ve been oh so blue
Stuck behind the moon
Now let me in
Back where we begin
And let me hold you like the way
I used to do

Now it’s requests for bad pop music on the radio, or desired ear bud solitude, blocking the chance for conversation.

“Mom, I can still hear you with them in, I just like listening to my music.”

Now let me hold you like the way…

I used to do
I used to do