Fourth Week of Lent: Reflections

Four weeks ago today was Fat Tuesday.  I am working my way through Lent--just a few more weeks. This time has gone quickly; 40 days isn’t really that long, not in our busy world of work and friends and house projects.

I have . . .

• done yoga every day for the past 28 days (!). 
• not been on Facebook in 28 days (!). 
• made attempts to pray to the divine feminine. 
• tried to eat a little more healthily--I’ve certainly enjoyed several delectable mango lassis, and I’ve tried to cut back on things like salt and chips and crackers and ice cream and alcohol.  I have not made a complete change in this area, but I’ve made a few small differences. 
• kept up with my blog--remarkably well, wouldn't you say? It helps that I’m not spending time on Facebook. It helps that my blog is suddenly my only online connection to the wider world (save email, that is). I’m spending less time online, though, since it doesn’t seem worth booting up my computer just to see if someone has commented on my blog.
• had more time for other types of connections--or perhaps I’ve just made more time for such connections. I've spent some good time with friends (taking walks, eating good food, playing games), writing to friends, talking to friends.  
• knitted three pairs of fingerless gloves/wrist warmers. 
• spent several days a week writing and sketching in my nature journal. 
• done a LOT of crosswords from the little Christmas book from Becky. 
• spent a little more time housecleaning and doing yard work. 
• spent a little more time cooking and baking.
• spent a little less time watching movies (I’ve done pretty well at sticking to one/week, except while I was working on the knitting projects. Movies and knitting just go so well together!).

Further observations:
1) When doing yoga, I'm amazed at how quickly an hour passes. I tell myself I’ll just do half an hour or so of yoga—not force myself to do more—and then find that an hour has passed and I need to get ready to go to work. That’s been an enjoyable surprise!

2) How difficult some of the poses are! I’m used to Yoga for Your Life—most of the poses are quite simple, ones I’ve done before, and I don’t find them too strenuous. They’re good stretches, good poses, but wholly doable. But some of the ones in my Yoga for Women book are kicking my butt! Bow pose—“hold for 1-2 minutes”—HA! There’s no way I could do that right off the bat! But I’m giving myself the time to practice it, to understand it, and bit by bit I’m getting better.

3) Some days the meditation bit is incredibly easy. I settle in, focus on the breathing, and snap! Seven minutes is up. I like those days.

4) Some days the meditation is tough. I guess that’s not a complete surprise, but it did surprise me when it got tough again after a few of the easy days.

5) I've really enjoyed the Sa Ta Na Ma meditation, so I decided to try one of the others, the women power one. I found it more difficult and unsettling than I had expected to pray to and honor the divine feminine spirit . . . my conservative Christian upbringing is definitely still influencing me. I want to try it again, though—perhaps it will be easier. Perhaps I will learn something unexpected.

6) I love the energizing workout from Yoga for Women! Chanting "Har" while doing the poses felt a little strange at first, but as I worked my way through the poses, it felt increasingly natural, and I felt amazingly energized by the end of the series.

7) I have a lot to learn.

8) My kitties like to “help” me with yoga. I may have to get Greg to take a picture I can post, because it's pretty darned cute, if not entirely helpful.

9) I don’t really miss Facebook that much. Hmm . . .

10) Making one or two changes in my life has a domino effect—it’s making it easier to make other changes.

11) Making changes is still hard. Some days I just want to don my pajamas and curl up with a movie . . . and eat salty food. Not that this is completely bad. But old habits are hard to break.

12) I have felt more motivated to bake. I’m not sure exactly why, but it does feel (and taste!) good.

13) Without FB, I’m finding other ways to be mindless. I’ve been diving into this little book of crosswords, which isn’t all bad, but sometimes I feel like I’m just using it as an escape.

14) I find myself more conscious of my posture. I am trying to stand and sit with a straight spine, shoulders back, chin tucked down—all the things I have to keep in mind when doing yoga poses.

15) I’m getting more flexible and aware of my body.

16) I like doing spine warm-ups. AHHHH.

17) I love the kneeling sun salutation sequence. LOVE it.

18) I’ve been a little more content in my work. I don’t know if this has to do with yoga and my other spiritual practices, but it’s something I’ve noticed lately.

19) I notice the state of cleanliness of the carpet more when I’m doing yoga on it every day.  (e.g., "I just vacuumed!  How can there be THAT MUCH cat hair in just three days?!")

20) I feel more motivated in the mornings to get things done. It’s harder for me to do housework, etc., after work, but in the mornings I whip through it efficiently.

21) I wish I were more of a morning person. Could I become one? I certainly have been getting enough sleep lately. Why is it that I find it so very difficult to get up before 7am?

22)  I'm glad that I'm doing all this.  No regrets.

I could probably go on, but I'll spare you.  This past month has been an interesting learning experience, and I feel more balanced, more aware of my body and my emotions, more aware of what I need--and what others need, too.

It was a sunny, blustery April day today.  Blue sky, whirling wind, piles of gorgeous clouds, and radiant sunlight--beautiful.  Spring is coming, bit by bit, and I am grateful.  And now, some wind-down time before bed.  I'll leave you with an image from another blustery day, this past Saturday, when Greg and I walked with our friend Jen and her son Isaiah up Waterworks Hill: glorious.

Yard & Garden Updates . . . and Post #100!

Yes, this is my 100th post!  Woohoo!  Shouldn't there be some sort of celebration?  Such as eating one of the oatmeal-chocolate-chip-pecan cookies I made yesterday?

I say YES.  MMM.  (These may be some of the yummiest cookies I have ever had the pleasure of making.  And eating.  I'm just sayin'.)

I was importing some pictures from my camera, and, as often happens when I have to open iPhoto for an import, I started looking through pictures from the past several months.  I realized that there are some fun yard and garden updates that I'd like to share, so I thought I would do so while I'm feeling inspired.  Plus, it was just so nice to see pictures of green, lush growth, especially right now when it's rather drab yet (though the tulips are coming up, as are the garlic, spinach, chives, and even a rogue pea or two that must have fallen to the ground last year instead of ending up in our stomachs!).

So, a photo update, in case you need a break from philosophical ramblings.

Last May we decided to tear up some of our front lawn, since it doesn't really get used anyway, and we'd rather have native plants growing there that 1) are not lawn and 2) we don't have to water.  So on a fine day in late May, Greg and I got out our shovels and started digging up the grass.

Before (oh, how green it is!):

We dug up about a three-foot-wide strip to the south of the sidewalk along the whole front yard, and laid down some weedmat in an attempt to keep weeds and grass from coming up:

Next we bordered the strips of dirt with the rocks we've been collecting--ones we've dug up in our yard (ah, Montana glacial soil) or gathered from various roadsides and trailheads--and then layered cedar chips on top of the dirt.  Insta-landscaping!

This not only gave us less lawn to mow and water, but set off the front flowerbed beautifully:

Note the mound of dirt behind the front strip--it has now been mounded up even higher, and we've added more stones to create some curved walls and a little more privacy for our side yard.

It looks so lovely!  A very satisfying day's work.

As the summer progressed, we built up the pile of dirt--adding all the sod we were digging up, etc., and added some curving rock walls, and then covered the newly-made mound with more weedmat and cedar chips.  Here's the view from the back:

And here's the view from the front/side.  Goal for this year:  plant some native plants!  We already have some bunchgrass and sage, but we want a shade-tolerant groundcover like kinnickinnick.  Someday this will be covered with native plants!

In June, Greg worked to create a rock path from the front yard to the back yard, mostly using stones that we had dug up from our yard.  (We've even found chunks of concrete in our lawn.  I have no idea what they are from!)

Greg also fixed up the path from the sidewalk to our front door, and extended it around the front of the house to our driveway:

Greg and I have constant conversations about how much lawn to leave and how much more we can dig up for garden space.  I find that I like a little bit of lawn, so I can sprawl on a blanket and read, or set up our lawn chairs when we have friends over for dinners in the summer.  But this may be a losing battle for me; I think Greg might be happy to turn every last inch of our lawn into garden.  At any rate, last summer Greg dug up a large patch of lawn between our current garden plot and our greenhouse.  It's a space that gets a lot of sun, and I'm happy to give up big sunny patches to our garden (I prefer sitting in shady areas myself, on hot sunny days).  We didn't plant anything in it last summer, but we dug in the usual load of cow manure last fall, so we'll see how things grow this year!

And then, last fall, I got motivated to do some painting at last!  I've been wanting to paint the greenhouse door red; I'd bought deep pink primer and bright red paint, and there came a sunny weekend in September and I accomplished my goal.  Doesn't it look lovely?

Greg and I had also been wanting to install a gate between the fence and our house.  The previous owners had left an old, far-too-small metal gate, which we would set on the ground sideways in an attempt to keep out deer--which it did, for the most part, except when we forgot to set it back up after we went through it.  Let's just say that we lost some tulips, had some carrot and beet greens munched on, and had most of the leaves stripped off our fruit trees by deer on the few occasions we didn't set up the gate.  One afternoon we stopped at Home Resource and lo and behold, there were several old wooden gates available.  We guessed on the size, and got lucky, because it turned out to be a perfect fit.  I scraped off the old yellow paint and painted the gate red, too.  (Next, I'm trying to work up the inspiration to paint all our window trim red . . . we'll see how I do on that one!)

One of the most fun additions to the yard last year was a SWING!  I LOVE our swing (which we made from a leftover bit of 2x4 and some hardy rope from Ace Hardware and hung from our oak tree).  This swing brings joy to my life.  I can go out to my backyard and swing higher than the swings on most swingsets, in my pajamas and slippers and rumpled hair, and see sky and trees and mountains and our lovely little neighborhood stretching out around me.  I usually sing, too, while I'm swinging, because it just makes me so HAPPY.  If you come and visit, you can swing, too.  Britta can attest to that:

Now that I'm writing this, I am realizing just how much we did last year!  Lists can be so satisfying.  My parents bought us a picnic table for an early anniversary present (and we enjoyed a very nice dinner on it, with both sets of parents).  In the early fall, we drilled a hole in one end and bought an umbrella so we could work/write/eat outside beneath its shade.  In the picture below, you may also note that Greg appears to be working on yet another project:  a moveable hoop house for the garden, so we can extend our growing season just a bit more.

Here is the finished product!  He built a frame large enough to fit over one of our garden sections, and used PVC pipe and, I believe, some plastic we had in our garage to do the rest.  However, we were able to get some actual greenhouse plastic from farmer friends who (unfortunately) had a strong storm demolish one of their greenhouses and tear the plastic to bits . . . but those bits were still big enough to cover half our lawn, much less our little hoop house.

A view from the inside, of happy warm fall peas and spinach!

Greg also built a mini hoop house last fall, one that was a little more easy to move and could help small patches of plants.  Isn't it cute?  This picture is from today--the grass has a hint of green, and we are preparing the garden for all the new little plantlings that are currently indoors or in our greenhouse!

Two autumns ago Greg built a leaf bin.  We keep all of our leaves--they work so wonderfully as mulch in our garden, or as carbon-rich material to add to our compost.  Last autumn, Greg also built a couple of soil bins, so that we aren't reusing the same soil for things like potted tomatoes, potatoes, etc.

This spring we have been most fortunate to finally get our trees pruned.  One of our neighbors, who has lived here for 20-some years, said that he's never seen anyone pruning our trees in the time he's been around, so our poor trees were definitely past due.  The good fortune comes in that Emily, one of our neighbors across the alley, has been working with an arborist the past few months, and she asked to "practice" on our trees.  Needless to say, we enthusiastically agreed.  So she spent several days at the beginning of March pruning our three Norway maples and our oak, and they look ever so much happier and healthier now.  We'll see how they look once they start leafing out!

Of course, all those dead branches in our yard took some effort to clean up . . . but at least we have lots of firewood for our firepit!

 Because it's nice to keep in mind what we have to look forward to, I'm putting up a few pictures of garden abundance from last summer.  Our amazing pea/bean/squash fence:

Cabbage!!

Our amazing array of dried beans.  We've been soaking and eating them recently, and they are delicious. And how satisfying to eat dried beans that you actually grew!  I love it.  Some red bush beans (well, that's what they were supposed to be.  Those beans vined their way up our fence like nobody's business. I'd call them pole beans, myself . . . ):

Some yellow Hungarian beans, a gift from our friend Tina, who brought them from the organic farm she worked at in Wisconsin:

Black beans!

What our yard looked like on St. Patrick's Day (all the snow melted off by the afternoon, but what a delight to wake up to!):

What our tulips look like today:

I wonder how much longer it will be until they bloom?  I can't wait.

And now, it begins all over again, and I am so very excited.  The list of projects keeps growing, but crossing things off that list is satisfying, and it's wonderful to see the changes in our yard and garden as the years pass (we've been here almost two years:  wow).  It's hard to believe we're coming up on our third summer/garden season in this house!  At this moment we have tomato and pepper seedlings upstairs on the heat mat; onions, cabbage, and broccoli seedlings in the greenhouse; and garlic, spinach, peas, and onion sets planted in the garden.  Come on, spring!

Waste = Opportunity

It's been a busy week.  From last weekend's Spring Party at Bill & Becky's to a work week filled with some contract work at UM and the Montana Environmental Education Association annual conference--well, I am most ready for the weekend.

At last year's MEEA conference,  I knew only a few people.  Maybe five, and most of them were my co-workers.  But this year--well!  It seemed as though I knew every second person there, and even those I didn't know by sight I knew by name from email exchanges or online collaboration.  Amazing what a difference a year makes.  I've got to say, environmental educators are a lovely group of people.

I attended several sessions today, and a couple of quotes from a couple of facilitators stuck out in my mind.

"Hard humble work + tangible results = a transformational experience."

This from Jason Mandela at Garden City Harvest, a fantastic Missoula organization that grows local organic food, provides education and training about sustainable agriculture to the community, and distributes healthy food to low-income people.  When Jason mentioned this little mantra, which is foundational to GCH's philosophy, I couldn't help but think of my Lenten practices.  They certainly have been challenging (some days more than others), but I am already seeing some tangible results, and am feeling that this will be a transformational experience for me--in ways that still remain to be seen.

The most fascinating session I attended was with Sam Stier from The Biomimicry Institute, which "promotes learning from and then emulating natural forms, processes and ecosystems to create more sustainable and healthier human technologies and designs."  For all you science nerds (and even non-science nerds), this is a website and a concept to check out.  Scientists who use biomimicry to create new technologies have done everything from creating solar panels that follow the sun (mimicking heliotropism, found in flowers such as buttercups), to redesigning a high-speed Japanese train by mimicking the shape of a kingfisher's bill, to developing carbon-neutral cement production by mimicking the chemistry of coral.  It seems obvious, but there are some seriously cool things that we can learn from nature.  As Sam said today, the natural ecosystem is our only (and incredibly amazing) example of a sustainable system, and the more that we can do to mimic natural processes, the closer we will come to sustainability.

Quote of the Day:  "For ecosystems, waste is an opportunity."

Let me write that again:
FOR ECOSYSTEMS, WASTE IS AN OPPORTUNITY.

I can't get this idea out of my head.  Think about it.  Truly think about what it means.  There is no "waste" in ecosystems.  There are no landfills where precious resources are trapped, buried, and completely shut away from the rest of the world.  There are no islands of non-biodegradable plastic swirling around in the Pacific Ocean.  There is no imbalance that is not, quite quickly, re-balanced.

When a tree dies, tiny organisms use it as their home or their food.  It breaks down, the very bark and leaves and wood becoming humus, becoming earth, the nutrients going back into the ecosystem.  During my summer at the Au Sable Institute, at the Pacific Rim campus on Whidbey Island, WA, I learned about nurse logs for the first time.  I am sure it was not the first time I had seen them, but it was the first time I saw them and knew what they were.  A tree had died and fallen, and on its trunk grew thick carpets of moss and several new trees, their roots curving over and around the dead trunk below them, pulling nourishment--nursing--from the decaying wood.  The tree wasn't pumped full of nasty chemicals and stuck in a box.  No, when it died, it fell, and gave itself back to the ecosystem from which it had come, earth to earth.

I also wonder about this idea on a philosophical level.  What difference might it make in our lives if we viewed situations that we are used to describing as "wasteful" as opportunities, instead?  Whether we feel that we wasted a year or five of our lives in a dead-end relationship, or an unfulfilling job, or in a city that we never felt at home in, or if we see sadness or depression as wasteful emotions, or even current politicians and short-sighted legislation as wasteful--no matter what it is we view as waste, what might happen if we can see those things as opportunities?  I wonder if we might feel more encouraged, empowered, and creative, as we wait to see what will rise from the ashes, as we remember that death and life are intricately intertwined, as we remember that some things must die so that other things may live.  We have the opportunity to learn so much about ourselves after a relationship ends.  We learn--and come into--our own strength.  Through loneliness and sadness can come creativity--dark-edged, perhaps, but brilliant, like onyx or hematite.  When we are frustrated with poor legislative decisions (and poor legislators), we may be inspired to take action, to make ourselves more a part of the political process than we have cared or dared to be before.

My challenge to myself--and to you, as well--is to look at our lives and shift our thinking, to look at things we are tempted to label as "waste" and call them "opportunity" instead.  Whether it's literal "waste" (do I need to throw away that Kleenex?  Maybe I should start using cloth hankies instead! Maybe that cracker box can become the cover for a journal! etc.) or metaphorical "waste," let's look for the opportunities hidden inside.  Here's to creativity and opportunity and sustainability!

Up next:  observations from 2.5 weeks of Lenten practices.

Spring, Sprang, Sprung!

Perhaps it is too early to declare that spring has come, but I can definitively say that the day I have been waiting for has arrived, and it was yesterday.  Sunny, 55 degrees, with the freshest air and smells all around, earth and grass warming in the sunshine, playful breezes, spring saying "I am here!"  I know it'll probably get cold again, and we'll probably get more snow, and that's absolutely fine.  The herald of spring blew her horn, and that was what I was waiting for.

Ah.

As the days roll by, I am increasingly grateful to have made my commitment to the spiritual practices I mentioned in the previous post.  Already they are making a difference.  I have spent so much less time on the computer than usual.  I didn't even turn it on this past weekend--and I know that part of that was due to the gorgeous weather, but part of it was me simply not feeling the need to be online.  And not being on Facebook hasn't been too difficult (yet), despite the fact that my good friend Amy just had a baby boy yesterday (!!!!!!!) and, though he is as yet unnamed, I am sure there are pictures on FB already . . . (Must. Stay. Strong.)

One other change I made last week was to my work schedule, going to work at 10 instead of 9, and using that entire extra hour to do yoga.  I have never done an hour of yoga every day, and it has given me so much more time to try new things . . . or not.  There are some poses that I simply cannot do.  Yet.  And then there are some that I cannot hold for 10 seconds, much less 2 minutes--camel pose, for instance (it's not as easy as it looks!):  

I am interested in seeing how I improve as the weeks pass.  And oh, is there room for improvement.

Making these changes, I feel free.  How to explain this?  I am proud of myself for holding to my practices these past few days.  I know I have five weeks to go, but I have increasing faith that I will be able to continue along this path I have chosen.  I am amazed at how the different practices are fitting together so well.  My resolve to take a hiatus from Facebook is helping me to minimize the rest of my online time.  My morning yoga is both energizing and calming, and I find myself craving healthier foods, other forms of exercise, and more time outside. And praying to Mother God encompasses it all; it is freeing and calming and energizing and humbling.  It feels like coming home.

What I love the most is that for these past few days I have felt that I am living the life I've been wanting to live for a long time.  It's so easy to get caught up in the busyness of life, in a cycle of work, come home, kick back with a movie or some mindless online time, go to bed, repeat.  And perhaps there's nothing terribly wrong with that, except that it just didn't feel like enough.  I am blessed, right now, with a good deal of free time.  Most people my age have kids and the mountain of responsibility that comes with that.  Greg and I don't have kids (yet), and I want my time to be spent more meaningfully.  These are all small steps in that direction.

I'll sign off with an absolutely scintillating recipe that I have been savoring this past week.  I found it in my Yoga for Women book, and if you want something refreshing and divinely delicious, this is for you:

Mango Lassi

*1 very ripe mango, peeled and cubed (I find it easiest to peel it, then just cut off slices/chunks straight into the blender . . . and lick my fingers afterward!)
*1 cup plain yogurt
*1 tablespoon honey or pure maple syrup
*small handful of ice cubes or 1/3 cup of cold water

Combine in blender.  Pour into glasses (makes about 2 servings).  Drink . . . and know that this is evidence that God loves us.  MMM.

Blessings to you all, friends.

Spiritual Practices

Today is Mardi Gras.  Fat Tuesday.  The day before Ash Wednesday, which means we are about to enter the liturgical season of Lent.

Did you know that the word Lent means “spring”?  It is derived from the Germanic languages, for instance, from the Old English lęncten, which roughly translates into “lengthen,” as lengthening days are characteristic of spring (and boy, oh boy, am I so grateful for each minute more of daylight we get as we move towards the summer solstice!). It is only in modern English that the word has come to have ecclesiastical meaning as well. Both senses of the word, however, have to do with seasons, seasons that begin in cold, dark places, slowly working their way towards warmth and light, culminating in an abundance of new life.

I find it more than just coincidence that this year Lent is beginning at a time when I am ready to make some changes in my life.  Nothing huge, but I have been struggling lately to figure out my place, my vocation, what I am meant to do in this world.  Certain things have been coming into focus for me, at least in some small ways, but there remains so much that is out of focus.

This morning I did a few minutes of yoga for the first time in months.  I love doing yoga, and I've missed it.  I ended with some deep breathing meditation, which I've never done before, and, as I went through the Sa TA Na Ma mantra (Totality, Creation, Dissolution, and Regeneration), I came to the realization that I wanted to commit to some spiritual practices for this year's Lenten season.  I hope that this process helps more things to come into focus for me.

By the time I finished my yoga this morning, I had a vision of the spiritual practices that I want to commit to these next 40 days.  Here they are:

1)  A hiatus from Facebook (yes, I'm keeping the meat, not that I eat much of it anyway, and giving up FB.  Such are the times we live in).
2)  Daily yoga and meditation/prayer.
3)  Working to eat more healthily and holistically, and allowing that to be a gradual process.
4)  Addressing God in the feminine, e.g., Mother God.
5)  Journaling/blogging throughout this process.

I admit that this is a bit of an unusual list.  Let me share my reasoning behind these choices.

#1 & #5.  I realized that I have been spending too much time lately in front of digital media.  At work, I'm in front of a computer for 6 hours, and there's not much I can do about that.  But I've also been spending what I feel is an unhealthy amount of time in front of screens in my non-working hours, whether that be watching movies (we have a TV, yes, but it's an old analog one without an adapter; the only reason we have it is so we can watch movies on it), checking Facebook, or checking email.  And when I look at how I spend my non-work computer time, FB is the biggest time suck.  I need a break from the FB vortex, and I think it will be good for me.  I'll work to minimize my email and other online time, though I do want to continue to post here.  I've felt empowered by the blogging medium these past few weeks, and I want to share my process in these spiritual practices: it will help to keep me accountable.  Journaling and/or blogging throughout the process will also, I hope, help me to see how I shift and change: how my spiritual practices make a difference.

#2.  As I mentioned before, I love doing yoga.  It is empowering, healing, balancing, life-giving, calming.  When I take the time to do it every morning I am more happy and peaceful (not to mention more flexible).  I have two books that I use, Yoga for Your Life, by Margaret D. and Martin G. Pierce, and Yoga for Women, by Shakta Kaur Khalsa.  Along with the yoga comes meditation, of which I have not done much, at least in a disciplined way, and prayer, with which I do have a fair bit of experience.  I have a feeling that the prayer and meditation, with practice, will pop up in other parts of my days as well.  Recently I have begun taking a 10-15 minute walk in the afternoon, after lunch, as a break from my computer screen and a breath of fresh air, and when I slow down enough and truly look at the world around me, the river and sky and mountains, a deep quiet and peace settles in.  I need more of that in my life.

#3.  Pretty straightforward, I imagine.  My yoga books have some lovely suggestions for healthful eating and living, and of course there's always common sense.  I'm trying to give myself some slack on this one; this is not something I'll force myself to change all at once, but gradually as the days and weeks go by.  I want to be realistic, after all.

#4.  The final (and, I think, best) essay I wrote for my thesis explored the feminine side of God.  It seems monumentally unjust that Christians have spent millennia seeing God as male, when really God is both male and female, or perhaps neither--but either way, God encompasses both feminine and masculine qualities, yet we constantly refer to God as He/Father/Him/Lord, etc.  (I will attempt to refrain, at this point, from going into my thoughts on how this created the patriarchal hierarchy that causes so many imbalances and injustices in this world . . . ) So, to balance out my thinking of God as male for nearly the past three decades, I'm going to spend these weeks, and probably more, referring to God as female.  Not that this changes who God is . . . but perhaps I will learn to understand Her better.

As I look over this list, I realize that the core of these spiritual practices is balance.  I am taking a break from something in my life that has been given too much space.  I am putting into my life something that will slow me down and give me time to reflect and to BE in the midst of the busyness.  I am acknowledging femininity in what is still a predominantly masculine culture.  I am taking time to let God speak instead of me doing all the speaking.  I am addressing not only my spirit, but my mind, heart, and body, all of me, together.

I am interested to see where this takes me.  And I am grateful to my dear Greg, who said to me this evening (when I asked him if he thought I was crazy to do this):  "Allison, trying to make all these changes for 40 days is a very difficult thing.  But to make these changes just for tomorrow, just for Wednesday, is easy.  And then you can do the same for Thursday.  One day at a time."

As Anne Lamott's father put it, "Take it bird by bird."

I can do that.

And now, to bed.

Living Intentionally

I am inspired by Andrea and Philip's new blog, particularly with their focus on living intentionally.  Since I like making lists, I thought I would make a list of the things that Greg and I do in an effort to leave a smaller carbon footprint, use fewer resources, and live sustainably.  Making lists is also a good way of seeing what may be left out, so perhaps we'll figure out a few more changes we can make.  Please let us know what you do to live simply and sustainably--we are always looking for new ideas!

Here we go (in no particular order)!

1.  Eat a minimum of meat.  We are not vegetarians, but we limit our meat intake to a minimum.  We cook with it perhaps once-ish per week.

2.  Walk or bike to work 99% of the time.  Every once in awhile I need to drive for a work meeting or errand, but that is very rare.  Greg always walks to work or takes the bus between campuses.

3.  Dry our laundry on racks in the winter and outside on a line in the summer.  (Dryers use an incredible amount of electricity.  The difference not using a dryer makes on our electric bill is significant.)

4.  Shower only every other day.

5.  Take relatively short showers (it helps that our hot water runs out after about 11 minutes!).

6.  Recycle everything we possibly can--paper, aluminum, tin, newsprint, cardboard, plastic, glass.

7.  Use canvas bags when we go shopping (grocery store, Ace Hardware, Goodwill, etc.).

8.  Keep the thermostat at 56 at night and 62 during the day in the winter.  (Let's just say we have a good supply of fleeces, pajama pants, slippers, warm robes, and blankets!  Though we do turn the heat up to a balmy 65 when we have guests.)

9.  No air conditioning, though we do use fans in the summer.  We are fortunate to have three mature maple trees in the yard just west of our house, which does wonders to keep our home cool in the summer months.  It rarely gets above 70 degrees on the main floor.

10.  Compost everything we possibly can--egg shells, vegetable matter, tea bags, even some paper products.  We also get compost from Greg's parents (who live in bear country) and several friends (who live in apartments).  Composting has multiple advantages--not only do we keep organic nutrients from being stuck uselessly in a landfill, we gain rich soil for our yard and garden AND the trash is much less smelly, so we don't have to take it out until it's completely full.

11.  Garden, garden, garden.  We have converted about a third of our yard into garden space, so instead of wasting water on grass, we are nourishing plants that will provide us with healthy, organic, and VERY local food.  Greg is amazingly motivated, and our garden space keeps expanding every year.

12.  Walk to the grocery store, hardware store, post office, etc.  We are fortunate enough to live in a neighborhood that's only a few blocks away from a commercial area and also within walking distance of downtown.  We have even been able to choose a dentist and optometrist within walking distance.

13.  Running multiple errands when we do drive.  When we drop off our recycling, we may also go grocery shopping or run other errands that are easier with a car.

14.  Purchasing products for our construction/home/yard projects from Home Resource, a local business that sells an amazing variety of used materials, from doors to windows to light fixtures to bricks.  (See here for a blog post about how we built our greenhouse almost completely out of recycled materials.)

15.  When we do buy meat, we try to make sure it is local, organic, and free-range, if possible.  (We purchase chicken from a farmer friend, beef and sausage from a local meat and dairy farm, and bison from Montana, and we occasionally get a gift of venison from hunting friends:  yum.)

16.  Purchasing used rather than new items of all kinds--from furniture to dishware to clothing.  Missoula has a good number of thrift stores, and we've gotten good at making the rounds when we are thinking of making a purchase.  $50 couch from Goodwill?  Yes, please!  Craigslist and the "free" section in the paper have also been useful.  The prices are MUCH better, and we're not supporting unsustainable practices (child labor, poor environmental practices, etc.).

17.  I finally purchased a good supply of cloth menstrual pads from Glad Rags, which are not only better for the environment (I'm no longer filling landfills with disposable pads), but are better for my health as well (no nasty bleached cotton and other chemicals near sensitive parts of my body).  To any wonderful women reading this, just check out the link above (there are other companies, too, of course--Lunapads is another good one.)  There are an amazing array of earth-friendly, women-friendly products from cloth pads to Diva cups to sponge tampons, and this is definitely worth looking into.

18.  We save hundreds of gallons of water per year by not flushing the toilet each time we use it.  "If it's yellow, let it mellow . . . "

19.  Reuse everything we possibly can.  We save egg cartons and certain plastic containers (from spinach, fruit, etc.) to use as seed-starting containers and mini greenhouses.  We reuse ziplock bags--it's been probably about two years since we've bought new ziplocks--and we also keep the ziplock bags that various foods come in (tortillas, nuts, etc.).

20.  Collect water off the one section of our roof that has a gutter to put on the garden, trees, etc.  We hope someday to install gutters on the rest of the roof and purchase a 500-gallon tank so we can collect ALL the water that comes off our roof.

21.  Use soaker hoses instead of a sprinkler on our garden beds.

22.  Plant water-wise native plants in our front landscaping.

23.  Keep all of our leaves in the fall to use as mulch over the winter and in the spring.

24.  One thing I've particularly enjoyed since moving to Missoula is having clothing exchanges (or "naked lady parties") with friends every few months.  It's a great way to clean my closet of things I don't wear anymore, and get a few new outfits for free!  All the leftover clothing we then take to the thrift store (usually Secret Seconds, as 100% profits go to the YWCA).

All this is a start, anyway.  How about you?  What do you do to live sustainably and intentionally?  

In Like a Lion

Here's what we woke up to this morning:

ROAR!

Stumbling Across A Conviction

It has been COLD here in Missoula these past few days!  We had an Arctic front move down into Western Montana--with winds wildly blowing and buffeting buildings, trees, people . . . on my walk to work on Thursday morning I kept thinking of Laura Ingalls Wilder and The Long Winter and all those blizzards, and I was grateful that, though the wind and snow were definitely blizzard-like, I could still see across the street and didn't have to break too many tracks through the snow (though in some places the wind had piled the snow up in crazy heaps that I had to struggle through).  I was definitely more than a little chilled by the time I had walked the mile to work, though!  BRRR.

But mostly I have been staying inside, wearing several layers, and drinking tea and eating soup and reading.  I just picked up an E.O. Wilson book, my first.  I have been hearing about him for years, but have never read any of his books.  At work this past week I was looking through our library and noticed The Future of Life sitting on a shelf, and I picked it up, began reading, and was immediately hooked.  Wilson is an excellent writer and a knowledgeable and well-trained biologist, and has won two Pulitzer Prizes.   In this book, he lays out the fragile state of this beautiful biosphere we call home, and presents a hopeful vision for how we can turn the tide of environmental exploitation and destruction while there is still time.  I'm only a couple of chapters in, but already I am mesmerized by the complexities and intricacies of our amazingly created world.

For instance, there exist bacteria who thrive in 221-degree water (found near hydrothermal vents on the ocean floor).  Hundreds of bacteria, archaeans, and fungi have been discovered in the mud of the lowest point of the Mariana Trench (35,750 feet below sea level).  And there is even a bacterium that can live through radiation 1,000 times more powerful than the atomic bombs that leveled Hiroshima and Nagasaki.  I am amazed.

Wilson goes on to discuss the incredible diversity of life on this planet, from bacteria that exist in every conceivable setting to plants, fungi, and animals, including Homo sapiens.  Right now I am reading about how human beings have changed and are changing (exponentially) the balance of life on Earth.  The more I read, the more I realize (again) that in order for us to survive, in order for ALL life on this planet to survive, we need to change our actions--and that this is NOT a choice.

This is part of why I am so deeply saddened, angered, and terrified at some of the laws being put forward by our lawmakers.  Disabling the Endangered Species Act.  Cutting funding for renewable energy.  Spending MORE money on extracting non-renewable resources from our hurting planet.  Kow-towing to Big Oil, Coal, Corporate Agriculture, and other extremely powerful and extremely short-sighted entities.  Taking away rights and care from women, children, the poor, the environment--those that have been and will be the most negatively affected by the imbalance of power.  We do not have the right to gamble away the lives of others, but that is what we are doing.

The challenge is that we ALL need to change, even those of us who live the most simply.  Because every time I get into my car and drive, I am contributing to the degradation of the planet, and there are no two ways about that.  Every time I eat meat, I am contributing to an inefficient system that ultimately contributes to world hunger (eating meat that eats grain is FAR less efficient than me simply eating grain directly).

What each of us does--what each of us chooses to do--matters.  Each small action makes a difference, and while it may seem that we have the luxury not to ponder this too deeply (we do lead busy lives, after all, and there are so many more important things to figure out, right?), it is a false luxury.  We don't even have the luxury our grandparents did, that we won't have to deal with the results of our choices in our lifetimes.  That luxury is gone.  What we do today WILL affect our lives in the space of only a few years or decades.  I don't want to regret my choices (and regret them we may, in the worst possible way, if we continue to live as short-sightedly as we have been).

You may have noticed that I've been writing more activist/political posts, of late.  Perhaps I should stick to fun pictures and recountings of my adventures, but I find it hard to do so when there are so many hurting people and creatures in this world, when there is such an imbalance of power and resources, when there is so much injustice.  I know that I am one of the lucky ones, to live in a wealthy, democratic nation.  To have health insurance.  To have a warm home and space to grow my own food.  To have a job, to have a husband who has a job.  To have access to clean water and grocery stores and a good education.  The hardest thing is that I know that I don't really deserve it, any more than people who live in poverty and hunger in the slums of Mumbai deserve their fate.  And, as long as there are people in this world who have less than I do, it is my responsibility to work for justice and equality.

I think I need to write that again.

As long as there are people in this world who have less than I do, it is my responsibility to work for justice and equality.

That may be one of the most difficult things I have ever had to write.  That I have ever had to realize.  The question I will be wrestling with now and in the future is:  How best to do this?

Why I Love Winter in Montana

Really, who wouldn't?

Winter Zen

I love winter. I love snow and cold and crisp, clear days.

But February can be difficult. Warmer temps and slush and slick roads--I'm not really a fan. Grey skies are hard to see day after day, especially if I stay in town. I think I'm entering the mid-winter doldrums.

So today my friend Ann and I decided to go skiing up at Lolo Pass. There's glorious FEET of snow up there, and more was drifting gently down as we clicked into our skis and started out on the blue loop. The sky was grey, with bits of blue in the distance, the snow was floating down, and we were nearly the only people out there. (Super Bowl Sunday is a GREAT day to go skiing!)

There's something magical about just being outdoors for several hours. The fresh air and silence and beauty start working their way inside. Two weekends ago I was up at Lubrecht, 45 miles east of Missoula, for a workshop. We spent a good 4-5 hours outside, walking around on snowshoes and scouting out tracks. It was a warm day, and I was comfortable without my jacket (as long as I was moving). We saw numerous coyote tracks, elegant in their long direct lines from point A to point B. Squirrel tracks appearing from holes in the snow, where the squirrels stay warm and protected in the subnivean layer. Grouse tracks in precise lines. Deer and elk tracks, punched deep into the snow. And the long, running tracks of a moose, with a 108" stride. Oh, the stories that are just waiting to be discovered, if only one takes the time to look!

Then our instructor went on a mad hunt for cougar tracks. He walked quickly, almost jogging, and we panted and strained to keep up with him. Through thickets, around Ponderosa pines, up hills, down into the riparian zone. Alas, no cougar tracks, but ah, the delight of dashing through the snow on a bright January day! We turned to head back, walking briskly atop the snow. Sweat broke out on my skin, my breath came more quickly, my stride lengthened, and suddenly I fell into a beautiful rhythm of breath and movement and felt the mid-winter doldrums and workaday worries fall off, left behind in the layers of snow. Do you ever look inside yourself and realize that you are, simply, HAPPY? That the world is a rich and beautiful place, full of delights, and that you are so deeply glad and grateful to be a part of it? And you wonder why you don't do these things that bring you to this contentment more often . . . and then you decide to let that go, too, and just live fully in the moment?

Oh, to be alive on such a day!

Today was another such day. Ann and I skied the 6.5-mile loop, amidst Doug firs and Western larches and Ponderosa pines. We noticed the snowshoe hare and squirrel tracks, heard the squeak of snow beneath our skis, moved in and out among the snowflakes. We talked about life and relationships and finances and dreams and work and change. We stopped to take a breath and listen to the silence and eat dark chocolate. I breathed in the peace of that place and felt its stillness.

On the way home, we stopped to sit in a commercial hot spring for an hour, letting the hot, sulfury water sooth our muscles. The snow began falling more thickly as darkness fell, and the flakes swirled in the headlights and streamed toward the windshield. I felt as though I was flying through space and showers of stars, as though I were part of a glorious wildness.

These are the feelings to hold inside as I begin my week and continue through these February days. Ah, February.

We Are Still Marching

When I turned to the Montana section of the Missoulian today this is what I saw:

Isn't it beautiful?

It's the winning art piece from the annual Martin Luther King, Jr. contest.   I'm going to cut it out and put it on our fridge.

Here's the winning essay:

For Dr. King

There are no segregated
     buses, schools,
water fountains or
     bathrooms.
But there are
people sitting on the streets
who no one notices
and children who are
     hungry.
There is violence and hatred
     and war.
Until there is peace
     and justice
your dream
is held in the hands of many,
like women dressed in black
on the bridge
     holding signs for peace,
and those who
work in food banks
and health clinics
     helping people in need.
We are still marching
towards a better world.

Zoe Wilson, Grade 4


When I was in 4th grade, I was not this aware.  I am grateful that these children are.

In today's paper there were other stories.  There was the story of a Montana boy who lost both of his legs and four of his fingers in Afghanistan, and of his courage and spirit, which are still intact.

There was a story about 9 civilians--families, with children--who were killed by a bomb in Afghanistan.

There was a story about the upcoming bill in the House of Representatives which would do away with the new health care plan.  Congresspeople who support it know that even if it gets past the House it's not going to pass in the Senate, and Obama definitely will not sign it.  They know it's not going to work, but they're wasting precious time trying to do away with a health care plan that will help millions of people  instead of working to bring our soldiers home from Iraq and Afghanistan, or working on climate change legislation, or thinking about ways to create new jobs, or figuring out how to lessen the deficit (why aren't we raising taxes for the obscenely wealthy again?) . . . or, oh, any number of issues that are far more essential and useful, not to mention relevant.

We are still marching
towards a better world.

I find such irony in the juxtaposition of this children's art & essay contest and the story demonstrating the pettiness of our congresspeople.  These 10-year-old kids get it.  They write and paint about friendship and peace and love and justice.  Their creative expression is helping to make the world a better place.  Why do some people seem to lose that desire?  I simply cannot believe that so many of our elected officials, despite the fact that they should be working to make the best possible decisions for the people they represent, seem to be doing the opposite.  How will taking away this new health care bill help people?  How will lowering taxes help us, in the long run?  How does spending untold billions on an unnecessary war and its aftermath benefit anyone?

Whatever happened to loving our neighbors?  Whatever happened to helping others, to the idea that our government has all its people's (not corporations', not those in the highest income bracket, not the tobacco or oil industries') best interests in mind?

And, on this day when we remember Martin Luther King, Jr., and his incredible work for justice and equality for all people, I wonder:  why are we still so afraid of those who are different from us?  It's been almost half a century since the Civil Rights movement and we are still afraid.  Whites are still afraid of blacks.  We are afraid of Muslims and gays and homeless people on the streets. Whatever happened to acceptance and understanding?  Why do we have such a hard time remembering that there is so much beautiful strength in diversity--whether of race or gender or sexual orientation or religion?

How can those of us who are Christians say we believe in a God of love--a God who not only loves the whole world but who created it, with all its complexities and diversity and wildness and beauty--and at the same time show hatred (born out of fear) to people God has created?

There is simply so much that needs to be done.  There are so many hurting people in this country and in this world.  What makes sense to me is working to feed the hungry, care for the sick, shelter the homeless, grow and eat healthy food, keep the air and water and soil clean, provide wild places for wild animals, to use our resources carefully and sustainably.  What doesn't make sense is spending time passing (or trying to pass) laws that do none of these things.  What doesn't make sense is feeling irrational fear of Muslims or blacks.  What doesn't make sense is people trying to elevate themselves by belittling those who are different.

I am so deeply angry, sometimes.  I feel such hopeless despair, sometimes.  And yet, if I can make what small differences I can in my little corner of this Earth--teaching 10-year-old kids about the beautiful wildness of Montana, growing my own food, recycling, reusing, driving as little as possible, loving the people around me, knitting scarves for my friends--perhaps that despair, that anger, will rise up and dissipate like smoke.  It's all I can do.  And who knows when what seems to be such a small act may have powerful, beautiful consequences?  Who knows how many people felt a stirring in their hearts while looking at Anwen Tobalske's lovely vision of hope, while reading Zoe Wilson's insightful poem?

I leave you with the far-reaching words of two wise men.

First, from Wendell Berry, one of the most thoughtful visionaries of our time:

THE PEACE OF WILD THINGS
When despair for the world grows in me
and I wake in the night at the least sound
in fear of what my life and my children's lives may be,
I go and lie down where the wood drake
rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.
I come into the peace of wild things
who do not tax their lives with forethought
of grief. I come into the presence of still water.
And I feel above me the day-blind stars
waiting with their light. For a time
I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.

And second, from Martin Luther King, Jr., one of the most thoughtful visionaries of half a century ago:

Let us not wallow in the valley of despair, I say to you today, my friends.
I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed: "We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal."
I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character.
I have a dream that one day every valley shall be exalted, and every hill and mountain shall be made low, the rough places will be made plain, and the crooked places will be made straight; "and the glory of the Lord shall be revealed and all flesh shall see it together."
With this faith, we will be able to hew out of the mountain of despair a stone of hope. With this faith, we will be able to transform the jangling discords of our nation into a beautiful symphony of brotherhood. With this faith, we will be able to work together, to pray together, to struggle together, to go to jail together, to stand up for freedom together, knowing that we will be free one day.
And when this happens, when we allow freedom to ring, when we let it ring from every village and every hamlet, from every state and every city, we will be able to speed up that day when all of God's children, black men and white men, Jews and Gentiles, Protestants and Catholics, will be able to join hands and sing in the words of the old Negro spiritual:
Free at last! Free at last!
Thank God Almighty, we are free at last!


We are still marching.

Summer/Fall Reading List

I've been reading young adult series this summer. There's something nice about reading a series--after figuring out which one you want to read, you don't have to deliberate about the next book until you're finished with the entire series. There's less thought involved, which can be a boon in the summer.

This spring I read (again) all of my Robin McKinley books. They aren't exactly a series, but they all take place in marvelous other worlds. I highly recommend any and all of them! She's a fantastic author, and her ability to create Other Worlds is remarkable. I read:

The Blue Sword

The Hero and the Crown

Beauty: A Retelling of Beauty and the Beast

Spindle's End

Deerskin

A Knot in the Grain (short stories)

The Door in the Wall (short stories)

Water: Tales of Elemental Spirits (short stories by RMK and her husband, the fantasy writer Peter Dickinson)

Fire: Tales of Elemental Spirits (more short stories by RMK and PD)

Then I decided to read L.M. Montgomery's "Emily" books. I've read them before, but only once, and I didn't remember them very well. Emily inspires me. Looking at the brief bio of L.M. Montgomery's life, I believe that she put much of her experience as a budding authoress into the Emily books. Emily wrote--and wrote--and wrote. And then she started submitting her writing. And, after a great deal of persistence, rejection, and doubts, she began to become successful. The path is quite clearly laid out: hard work, writing writing writing, and putting one's work out into the world. Unfortunately, I haven't done much of any of those lately . . . so. I must allow Emily to continue to inspire me.

Emily of New Moon

Emily's Quest

Emily Climbs

And, most recently, I have read the six books of Ursula LeGuin's Earthsea Trilogy. I love trilogies that end up being non-trilogies because the characters or the world or the story continues in the author's mind . . . and then, delightfully, in ours. The first three books, A Wizard of Earthsea, The Tombs of Atuan, and The Farthest Shore, were all written in a similar tone and style, and are excellent. The Farthest Shore, with its long sea voyage to distant islands, reminds me a great deal of C.S. Lewis's The Voyage of the Dawn Treader. Well-written as the first three books are, however, it is the final three that are sticking with me. These were written some years later, after Ms. LeGuin had recognized some missing pieces in her original trilogy. Tehanu is beautifully written, and, beyond that, it is a marvelously, refreshingly feminist book. Some of the lines made me shiver. READ IT. Read them all. The fifth book, Tales from Earthsea, is a series of short stories from various points in Earthsea's history; the last story bridges the gap between Tehanu and the final (as yet!) book, The Other Wind.  Ms. LeGuin turns Earthsea upside-down in this last book, in a brilliant and inspiring way.  The final chapter held so many profound and powerful insights I'm still mulling them over in my mind, still glimpsing the brightness of the images that flooded my inner eye as I read it.  I love books that turn their worlds--and, by extension, my world--upside-down.  If you're in need of something new and refreshing, read this series!

Now that it's fall, I've been delving into new books, ones that are, perhaps, a little heavier.  I read three of Geraldine Brooks' novels:  March, Year of Wonders, and People of the Book.  All excellent, all thought-provoking, all historical fiction, from Civil War America to a plague village in England in 1665 to the modern day (with glimpses of medieval Spain and WWII-era Bosnia).

Another new author this fall has been Mary Doria Russell; I've read The Sparrow and Children of God (which picks up where The Sparrow leaves off), and if you want additional world-shaking reads, these are for you.  The story is fascinating--think life on other planets, the questions of faith that this raises, the life of a Jesuit priest and his friends:  fantastic.  Both of them were books I couldn't put down.

Most recently I went to the library and checked out three books by Jane Goodall.  There was an excellent article in the latest National Geographic in honor of her 50th anniversary of going to Gombe, Tanzania, to begin her research on chimpanzees, and it made me curious to learn more.  So I've just started Through A Window: My Thirty Years with the Chimpanzees of Gombe, and I'm looking forward to reading Reason for Hope: A Spiritual Journey and Hope for Animals and Their World: How Endangered Species Are Being Rescued from the Brink.

I need to read about some hope, especially with the elections coming up with support for a few too many Tea Party candidates.  I listen to some of the blatantly false things that too many Americans believe (that there is no scientific evidence for climate change/Obama is a Muslim/Obama is a socialist/Republicans want small government, etc.).

???

Seriously, have people lost their ability to think critically and search out multiple information sources for at least an attempt at a balanced viewpoint?  Then again, thinking for one's self is dangerous; I suppose I understand why many people simply prefer to adopt the opinions of others rather than take the time to research an issue and reach an informed conclusion.  It's just so much easier.  URGH.  I wish there weren't such a fear of . . . of what?  New ideas?  People who are different from ourselves?  What might happen if we let our comfortable worldview get shaken up a little?

So yes, reading about Jane Goodall's reasons for hope should be heartening.  She is such an amazing woman, and has done incredible things not only for our understanding of chimpanzees and for the preservation of great apes and their habitats, but for women in science and beyond.  I'll let you know how these books go.

What have you been reading lately?  I'm always looking for new recommendations!

Love to all!

Beginning Again . . . and Again

Dusk.

The sky is that amazing deep teal color, with streaks of pale yellow and orange on the horizon. The first stars are coming out. A narrow curve of moon shines above the neighbor's trees. The quiet evening air is cool and fresh, yet still holds a hint of today's warmth. I hear the muffled plop! of acorns hitting the ground, the whir of traffic, a dog barking in the distance. But overall, the night is calm.

I love September. It's my favorite month of the year (and not only because it's my birth month, though that's a decided perk). The air turns chill and crisp, the leaves begin their turning, and I feel a new energy zinging through my mind and body. September has always been a time of beginnings for me--my birthday, school starting up, moving to new places--so that, this September, I feel this delightful freshness, though for the first time in a long time there are no big new changes in my life. It's enough simply to know that I've lived for 31 years in this world, and that, once again, I get to start afresh.

On my birthday Greg and I were in Boise, visiting our good friend Jessie. Sunday morning, we decided to take a hike in the deserty hills above the city, and set out in the early(ish) morning. The air was cold and breezy, the landscape rocky and beautifully barren but for the sagebrush, rabbitbrush, and bitterbrush scattered across the yellow hills. The sun cast sharp shadows that tumbled down the rocks and the steep slopes of the hills, and the paths we walked were sandy. Below us lay Boise, but when we descended into the valleys and the land rose up around us, all we could see was rock and sagebrush and sky. The wind blew chill and steady. Instead of minding it as I sometimes do, I had the strangely powerful feeling that it was scouring me clean, tearing free the clutter in my mind and heart, leaving me a bit raw, perhaps, but refreshed, renewed. I stood on the sandy path as it rose along the ridge, felt the sun and wind surrounding me, felt myself filled with air and light.

I am thankful for so very many chances to begin again.

Here's to new beginnings. New seasons. Garden harvest goodness. Fresh tomatoes. Yellow larch needles, flame-red maple leaves. Good work. Guitar playing. Teatime. Shifting constellations, Orion in the night sky. Crisp mornings and sunny afternoons. Time even to do yoga, to write, to create. BEing space amidst the busyness.