Wintertime SOS

In the depths of the winter blahs, these are the things that I find uplifting:

-Tea. Lots of tea.

-Yoga. (How did I ever live without yoga?)

-Downton Abbey. Jane the Virgin. Binge-watching comfort shows, whatever works.

-Music. Live music. Home music. Always music.

-Avoiding/rationing sugar & caffeine & carbs and those things my body only thinks it really, really, pretty pleaseeee wants/needs right this second.

-My ever-loyal people who can handle the “How are you?” response of “Just OK”—even when it’s not the answer that *works* for them—and who continue to follow up in the just-right, non-pushy ways all the same.

-Limiting social media.

-Planning future travel.

-Reaching out. (And other times, not reaching out.)

-Trying hard to remember that this too shall pass.

Do you have tricks? Tips? Fun, happy things? Links? Songs? Podcasts? Articles?

Accepting suggestions with open, Vitamin-D deprived arms.
Thanks in advance:)

Dreaming of:






Sometimes the ‘circle of life’ concept seems especially evident, strikingly in-the-face. During high-frequency weeks like last week—when there seemed to be so much movement—the duality seems particularly ironic. A week during which I learned that four beautiful babies were born (nearly all of them healthy) almost in the same breath that I heard that one well-loved dog had to be put down, a lifetime friend’s aunt is terminally sick and my grandfather is “ready to die” (expressed in his own tired language, some of the toughest words to ever hear from a loved one). How does this happen? How can all this goodness and sadness—these beginnings and ends—coexist, bundled up into one package?

Last week it was raining, and at times it got me down; but today I already forget that fleeting melancholy that hovered and then passed. Today the sun shines through the cafe window so powerfully and radiantly that it seems to penetrate my body, warming me (filling me) to the very core. I dream of springtime adventures, summer celebrations; I see promise and kindness. At least in this moment, I remember it’s all rooted in love.
It comes, it goes, we fight it, we surf.  Keep on paddlin’, my friends. What a confusing but beautiful ride.