School of Life

Life has felt like a bit ole’ lesson book these past few weeks/months. Recent discoveries/re-discoveries:

~I adore Josh Garrels.

~I adore road trips and spontaneous adventures and saying “yes” when I coulda-shoulda-woulda maybe said “no.”

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Dead Lamb Jam 2015 AKA Exploring Yakima

~I adore hiking and nature and tech detoxing, but I adore the post-burn brewpub lunch reward even a wee bit more.

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~I adore live music. I am forever healed/inspired/moved/uplifted by talented performers who share their gifts with us lucky listeners.

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~I adore the PNW and the pre-summer buzz that promises so much sunshine-y, alfresco goodness to come.

~In light of my grandfather’s recent passing (and always reflecting on last summer, too), I am reminded of the following: The most empathetic people are typically those who have grieved themselves. Through their own journey of loss, they have gained beautiful compassion. They understand that, even if you don’t know what to say, something—anything—is always a good bet. This knowledge is a gift. (I want to be one of those ever-compassionate people.)

~For the most part, people are who they are. Different friends play different roles in our lives, and we can count on different folks in very different capacities. There’s no use in wasting time feeling let down by those who simply continue old patterns/ways of being. Instead, it’s best to focus on those who come through in the least expected and most appreciated ways. (That said, in my Seattle “tribe,” there are some rockstars. Friends who challenge me and unconditionally support me and hold me accountable—in the most gentle, loving ways. I am so grateful. From them, I am learning so, so much.)

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Happy Thursdays, friends!

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Cresting

I’ve been in a funk recently, on and off feeling sad, lonely, oversensitive, flat. I know much/most of it comes from sifting through the multilayered stages of grief. My grandfather’s life is in its very final act, and my parents are stoically standing by his side (an exhausting roller coaster ride), helping him ease his way out, onward, upward…(How is it possible to miss someone so much who’s not even yet gone?)

I feel far, far away and yet constantly connected all at once, and my emotions change with the hour—cresting like waves. Seeing my parents’ amazing strength and togetherness through this, though, is the biggest blessing and inspiration. In moments like these, it’s stripped down to the basics. All that matters, ever, is kindness and love.

Despite the impending, inevitable sad news that I know is soon to come, I feel myself rising out of this lil rut I’ve been stuck in, and I am reminded how wonderful these moments feel, like stepping out into fresh, new air after a good, hard rain. It’s OK. It’s always going to be OK. I am looking for the beauty in the midst of life’s sadness, because if we look hard enough, it’s truly always there.

We love you so much, Grandpa, and we’re going to keep living and *laughing* in your honor. I know you wouldn’t want it any other way.

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