Fighting Change Since 1979

Sometimes it’s realllly annoying when the Universe keeps throwing lessons at you that you know you need to learn. (Yeah yeah yeah, I get it already.)

My favorite yoga teacher is leaving my studio, and I feel absolutely gutted about this announcement. (I’ve feared it for a long time, actually, and deep down I worry that I squash out things I rely on/cling to too much.) And because of this, I know there is a greater lesson in this all. As one smart friend consoled, “Change is hard. I’m pretty sure that’s why we do yoga.”

I know my devastation might sound silly/overly dramatic to those who don’t *get* it, but to me, C is so much more than an instructor of yoga. She is a wise guru, a sage mentor, a steady constant in times of flux and unknown. Her classes are my therapy on some days, my church on others.

And I know that life is all about change and transitioning and evolving and growing, but man is this lesson hard to live out time and again. So I’m just going to sulk over here for a wee while longer. But don’t worry, I’ll adjust, adapt, re-acclimate. After all, we always do. (What’s the alternative?)

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Guest House

“This being human is a guest house. Every morning a new arrival; a joy, a depression, a meanness, some momentary awareness comes as an unexpected visitor. Welcome and attend them all. Even if they’re a crowd of sorrows… still, treat each guest honourable. He may be clearing you out for some new delight.” (Rumi)

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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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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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Ducks, Groundhog Day, Seattle Summer

If I could count the number of times I’ve been working on this patio as the amphibious Ride the Ducks-mobile drives by, silly quackers and hat-wearing driver and all…And I want so badly to be annoyed at the ridiculous, loud cheesiness of it all. And yet when I look up, those vacationing tourists onboard look so darn carefree and smiley (well the majority of them anyway), that I often can’t help but smirk-smile, too.

As they wait at the light in front of the statue People Waiting for the Interurban (a neighborhood fixture that locals like to dress up for holidays and birthdays and graduations and the like), the tourguide driver, like clockwork, pumps up the tunes:

“Ooga-chakka-ooga-chaka, I can’t stop this feeling…deep inside of me….”

It’s a bit like Groundhog Day, to be honest.

Ahhhh, Seattle summer, please stick around awhile longer. You are so breathtakingly beautiful, frenetic, busy, ADD, tranquil and magical—all at once.

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Bridge diver

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bienvenido, summer!

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*So far, just a couple days in, I’m digging this summer. I simply LOVE this time of year. May it be a radiant, joyful one for us all.*

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Women in Me

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