Changing Shape

My baby is due in a little over two weeks!

To honor this transition for our family, I am going to take a few months off from offering healing sessions in Middletown, starting next week. I will miss working with you folks during my time off, but I am excited and grateful to be able to cocoon away with our new little one. I will let you know when I am back to work and open for sessions.

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True Nature

When I observe creatures and plants in the natural world, I am often struck by how boldly “themselves” they are.

I recently watched juncos bathing in puddles on the first clear day after several weeks of rain. These little birds did not mope about wishing their legs were longer or had more meat on them. Nope. They unreservedly threw themselves into the winter water bath, shaking their feathers, gripping the mud with their toes, raising their beaks to the sun.

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DNA and Choice

For those of you who I haven’t seen in a few months, I have news to share: my husband and I are expecting a baby!

I am six months pregnant with our first child, and what a journey these six months have been for me: Nearly constant nausea in the first trimester . . . the adventure of hormonally influenced emotions . . . developing a relationship with a miraculous, unseen being growing inside me . . . a deepening of trust and newness of purpose with my life partner (the photos in today’s letter are from our recent Southwest “babymoon”).

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At War

“You have suffered enough and warred with yourself. It’s time that you won.”

This past weekend wasn’t the first time I’d heard the song “Falling Slowly,” by Glen Hansard and Marketa Irglova, from the film and Broadway musical Once. For several years now, I’ve enjoyed the soulful, raw harmonies in the song, with sweet acoustic guitar and piano. But until this last weekend, I hadn’t noticed that set of lyrics: “You have suffered enough and warred with yourself. It’s time that you won.”

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Sitting with Grief

I have witnessed many sources of grief this month:

An ended relationship, lost pets, a miscarriage, the Clayton Fire, the end of one job for a more desired one (yes, grief even there), the effects of a custody battle on a child, the failure of a long-hoped-for project.

I have also witnessed many sources of joy: garden harvests, vacation with friends, new loves, family reunions, visits among old friends, job promotions, unexpected gifts.

The grief rests alongside the joy, often more quietly. Yet, it is there.

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Imagine

When someone comes to see me for help with depression, an autoimmune disease, cancer, or anything else, I’ll ask what they want to create in their life.

A lot of people answer, “I just want to feel better.”
I’ll press them: “Anything else you want?”
“No, just to not hurt anymore, just to feel better.”

Now, this goal makes a lot of sense when you are in constant pain. However, I’ll often encourage this person to get in touch with something else they want, with the use of an undervalued tool: imagination.

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Gifts in Garbage

Last fall, I set up my first well-researched compost pile. Rather than just throw all my food scraps in a heap and hope they’d eventually amount to something (as I’d done in the past), I studied the ideal ratios of carbon and nitrogen and built a pile accordingly, carefully layering dead corn stalks from last year’s harvest (carbon) and food scraps and green plant parts (nitrogen), with a little bit of soil in between.

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