Archives

Inspiration

Jan19
The chicken that’s been nourishing me all week getting carved by the chef.

I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again: A homegrown chicken is one of the best gifts. I honor the chicken’s short but happy life, and the women who raised it along with its flockmates with love and care, in a wholesome free-range setting. I’m grateful for the ongoing gift, which has made several sandwiches, a bowl of picked chicken ready for salad tomorrow, and the carcass simmering in the stockpot on the stove right now for future soups. It may be that my experimental commitment to vegetarianism is winding down. I’ve been eating meat when it’s offered but not buying or cooking it for myself, so in almost two years I’ve eaten meat only a few times. I’ve got to come to terms with the fact that I feel more energy when I eat a little meat.

I’m grateful for this sandwich even without cheese. Grateful for avocados!
And grateful for this nifty avocado keeper which has a space for the pit, to preserve the heart of the fruit. I run the cut side under cold water for about twenty seconds (how grateful I am for tap water!) and then close it into the container. It can last a day or two with hardly any oxidation this way.

I’m grateful for flow in the kitchen, using up a chicken day by day, or using up the last several meals by combining the last of the bread with the last of the avocado and the last of the Brie… and grateful for the luxury to live day by day with sufficient food that keeps coming into the house and moving through the fridge, pantry, freezer. When you stop and think about it, it’s a miracle.

I’m grateful for a fulfilling and meaningful week. For all the love and connection with friends and family in various contexts, for old friends and new, near and far; for teaching a motivated and engaged class the transformative skills of mindfulness and meditation; for access to inspiring talks, interviews, and creative efforts of people around the world.

One inspiration I’m especially grateful for this evening is the story of a stuntman gone horribly awry. After working all day I sat down to rest this evening and watched “David Holmes: The Boy Who Lived.” This is a documentary of the tragedy and resilience of the young man who was Daniel Radcliffe’s stunt double in the Harry Potter movies for a decade, from the initial Sorcerer’s Stone to the Deathly Hallows part 1. During filming, an accident broke his neck. He’s found the strength, spirit, and courage to reinvent himself as he’s struggled through the years with ongoing complications. Though comparisons can be detrimental, they can also inspire a healthy perspective: In the same way that David recognized that many people he met along the way had it far worse then he, his story inspires me to resilience with my own physical challenges and limitations. I’m grateful for inspiration.

Wren is grateful to her Aunty Melinda for a beautiful new red parka! She feels inspired to romp about in the snow. Isn’t she the cat’s meow?

Leftovers

Jan17

Oh my. What a cheese sandwich I made today. Leftover roasted chicken, lettuce, and havarti, with of course mayo and Penzeys sandwich sprinkle, and a little Grey Poupon. It was a masterpiece. I’m grateful for the ongoing abundance of my leftovers. I made a little pot of stock for the animals with the bones from last night’s dinner, and have plenty of meat and bones for more meals.

I learned today that two friends caught covid for the first time on the same day last week, hundreds of miles apart, and both while caring for loved ones. One at an assisted living facility, and one at a doctor’s office. “No good deed goes unpunished,” said one of them. I’m grateful that it wasn’t too terrible an illness for either of them, and that they’re both feeling better already. They had been so careful. I’m sorry that people in general have thrown caution to the wind, making life more risky for those of us still hoping to not get it. So it goes.

So Much

Jan13

I’m grateful for so much today. For a functioning, pain-free body; for all the beautiful green and/or flowering plants in my sunroom and making time to water and tend them; for an exhilarating zoom with Foundations Course graduates across the country, for exercising and laughing with my frousin (yes autocorrect: frousin: it’s my friend-cousin), for a delicious lunch with a bunch of leftovers in a tortilla wrap, for RuPaul’s Drag Race Season 16; for my best girls back east planning a birthday zoom with me… for community, companionship, friendship, love; and for the mindfulness that makes it possible for me to appreciate it all, despite the climate, political, and other human-induced chaos plaguing our precious, fragile planet; and for cultivating the capacity to hold the ten thousand sorrows and the ten thousand joys with both hands and an open heart. This is it.

This is the only life we know we’ll ever get. We might get another one, but can we know that? No. The only thing we know for certain is that we have this present moment in this singular life. I’m grateful for the pure awareness that allows me to appreciate almost every moment of it just the way it is. I’m grateful for equanimity, contentment, perspective, and the gazillion stars in the night sky–oh, in the day sky also–whether or not they’re obscured by clouds. I’m grateful for knowing my place in this universe. All I can do with this knowledge is love.

I’m grateful for loving this little creature that came into my life, no matter what she does, just loving her for who she is. I’m grateful for the growing capacity I experience with practice for loving myself just as I am, no matter who I am. I’m grateful for having a roof over my head, a bed to sleep late in, a kitchen filled with tools and food and the resources at hand to nourish this animal body who loves what it loves. I’m grateful for people like Mary Oliver who say things more eloquently than I have yet. I’m grateful for this carrot-orange-ginger soup that I made tonight to nourish me for three or four more meals, with organic carrots, ginger grown in the sunroom, and regular old oranges, as well as a handful of spices from around the world via Penzeys and Amazon. What a world we live in, with so much available to us!

OMG so simple so delicious. This carrot-orange-ginger soup took about half an hour to make start to finish, and is absolutely delectable. I used leftover coconut milk instead of cream, and homemade vegetable stock heavy on the celery. I love keeping a bag in the freezer for celery, broccoli, and cauliflower stalks, mushroom stems, parmesan rinds, and any other veggie scraps that will enrich a stock. I added a couple of small potatoes, a few outer onion layers, and a few garlic cloves when I dumped the stock-bag into the pot the other day to simmer for a few hours. Pulled the jar out of the fridge tonight to make this delicious soup.

I’m grateful for all of this, with the caveat that I understand there is impact and injustice involved in me getting what I need to make a simple carrot soup. We live in un-simple times. I do the best I can with what I have in each moment, to be the best human I can be under the conditions leading up to this moment. If we would all do the same, what a wonderful world it would be.

Face Poison

Jan11
  • Day 9… beginning to show some results
  • Day 10… starting to itch
  • Day 12… beginning to sting
  • Day 18… pretty uncomfortable
  • Day 19… how much pain is too much pain?
  • Day 22… one day after I stop applying cream
  • Day 23… face swells more
  • Day 24… my nose and cheeks hurt like a bruise
  • Day 25… Day 1 of antibiotics
  • Day 26… morning after Claritin
  • Day 29… last day of antibiotics
  • Day 31… still feeling creepy crawlies
  • Day 35… no more peeling, no more itching, no more creepy crawlies

I’m grateful for science, and medicine. I’m grateful for my experiment with face poison, aka flourouracil, a topical chemotherapy for precancerous actinic keratoses and some basal cell carcinomas. I was instructed to apply this cream twice a day for 30 days, with the caveat that if it hurt unbearably after two or three weeks I could stop. “If it hurts bearably, you can take a couple of days off and then finish out the course.”

I’m grateful I had friends who’d been through it to offer support. I debated whether to share photos of my face here, partly out of vanity and partly because some of them are pretty harsh. But I have heard of several people intending to undergo the same treatment this month, and I know there are others out there, so I offer the gallery above and words below with humility in hope of benefiting fellow sufferers.

The first week there wasn’t much sensation with the cream, just a sense of skin tightening, like a chemical facelift. Into the second week red spots started appearing and soon my face itched, and then began to sting. I started to apply vaseline and Aquaphor ointment between morning and evening applications of face poison. After awhile this didn’t do much to diminish the hot, tender feeling. It hurt to apply the cream, it hurt to apply the vaseline, it hurt if it dried out, it hurt to wash off vaseline. But it didn’t hurt unbearably. At the end of week two, I began to wonder, How much hurt is too much?

Because the effects were incremental, my tolerance increased incrementally. It was a classic case of the mythical frog in a pot of water. I learned that as a true thing, that if you put a frog in a pot of water and slowly bring it to boil, the frog won’t jump out because it adapts to the incremental heat increase until it’s too late, and it gets boiled alive; if you drop a frog in a pot of boiling water it will instantly jump out. I hated whoever did that experiment. Years later I heard it was just apocryphal, which was a relief, but also knocked the legs out from under a beautiful allegory: one that nonetheless that applies to my face and my perception of reality as I continued to gradually increase the amount of poison in my system. My awareness tunneled into darkness as a fever developed, but I didn’t notice.

I took a day off at three weeks, and the next morning my cheeks were swelling, so I took another day off. I wondered if I should start the cream again. The following morning, my cheeks and nose were sore deep in the tissue. I called the dermatology office, and they said, “If it’s swelling, we recommend you stop.” The next day, it was so bad that my cousin doctor suggested I might be getting cellulitis and could need an antibiotic. I’m grateful that the office had an on-call doctor on a Saturday evening, and that I happened to have some leftover antibiotics to start before I could get my prescription the next day. I’m grateful the pharmacy was open on Sunday morning.

All in all, I’m grateful I tried this process, and my skin overall is more smooth and clear of flaky patches and keratoses. There are a few spots I think could have benefited from another week of face poison, but maybe my doctor was right all along when he said he thought it would be easier for me to just get a few things frozen off every six months, and a Mohs surgery now and then. I’m grateful for my dermatologist; but I’d gotten fed up after my August visit where he biopsied three spots, froze two, and would have done more if he’d had time. I ended up with two Mohs surgeries in the fall, and those are uncomfortable and disruptive in their own way. I hope that the face poison has bought me a few years free of freezing and Mohs, but we’ll know more later.

Meanwhile, I’m grateful it’s over, and I can wash my face with hot water again, and scrub it with a washcloth, and moisturize with cream that doesn’t stick to everything and line the sink with vaseline slime and grease my pillow so my face slides off. I’m grateful I can put on sunscreen and walk outside without feeling like a vampire at risk of sizzling in sunlight. I’m grateful for the kindness, curiosity, compassion, and humor my friends provided throughout this experiment with face poison.

Letting Go

Jan8
A wall hanging in the massage room at Wellspring.

I’m grateful for equanimity, letting go, going with the flow, and a pleasant surprise today. I’ve been hampered with a minor back injury for the past week, and tried to reach a handful of bodyworkers seeking some relief. Over the weekend I recalled one in Hotchkiss that I’ve never been to, and called there this morning. It was my lucky day: she had a cancellation and got me in this afternoon. I was expecting a regular massage. Instead I received a Core Alignment Therapy session first, and then a massage. The combination was more than I expected, a pleasant surprise. There was certainly some letting go to be done, both physically and mentally, as I surrendered to a new and different experience. At times it felt I was in the caring arms of an octopus, as though Liz had more hands than most people. The pain was diminished considerably. Wellspring Vitality offers several hands-on therapies as well as numerous other healing and fitness options.

I was grateful to feel so relaxed when I got home safely. As I turned onto the highway in town I heard a loud clunk, but ignored it, thinking snow, ice, gravel… Only when I turned off the engine in my driveway did I realize what had actually happened. I don’t drive often and always park in the same spot, so I hadn’t noticed a few little oil spots where I park until the other day. I made a mental note to call the shop that changed the oil last month, but only a mental note… and I dashed out today focused on clearing the snow off and getting to the massage, so I forgot all about the oil drips. When I got out of the car at home the air reeked of burning oil so I popped the hood. I could hear and see the last of the engine oil streaming onto the gravel. The loose oil plug had fallen out in town and I’d spilled oil all the way home. Phil’s Towing came again and loaded up the little Honda, and took her back to town. A little more mindfulness on my part would have been helpful in precluding this situation, but equanimity came to the rescue. Also, letting go.

I’m grateful for the little bit of snow we got yesterday, and for living inside the kaleidoscope, and for a new spectacular puzzle in the club collection. More on that next time. I’m grateful the unexpected therapy today allowed me to enjoy puzzling again.

Animals, morning noon and night

Jan4

I’m grateful for days full of animals, morning noon and night. I wake with them in my bed. I’m grateful for my bed, with soft cotton sheets and blankets, fluffy pillows, and a sturdy mattress. I’m grateful for the clean sheets I switched out today for the rumpled bedding Wren and Topaz enjoyed last night.

I’m grateful for wild animals in the yard and the woods around the house, like this bachelor herd of young bucks west of the house the past few days.

I’m grateful for the promise already of spring, as I raised plastic over the early bed yesterday after tossing some snow on top. Let’s see how soon I have greens. Maybe in March?

I’m grateful for domestic animals like my neighbor’s little Shorty, and all the other horses in surrounding fields who add a dimension of life to the neighborhood, sometimes tranquil, sometimes exciting. I’m grateful that Wren and Shorty respected each other in their first meeting as Shorty strolled down and Wren strolled up the driveway. Once they satisfied their curiosity about one another, they each grazed peacefully on their own side of the gravel.

I’m grateful for these amazing cookies from NYT cookie editor Vaughn Vreeland, and for Cookie Week before Christmas featuring tempting cookie recipes every day. These gingerbread latte cookies give a real kick, with lots of espresso powder in them and rolled in an espresso-sugar-ginger dusting. Just one yesterday afternoon kept me up well past midnight, so now they’re for breakfast only.

And I’m grateful for silly little Wren again at the end of a busy day, relaxed and happy in her – I mean my -recliner. I’m grateful for dogs, cats, horses, deer, polar bears, manatees, chickadees, ravens, mountain lions, snow leopards, frogs, snakes, rays, sharks, octopi, osprey, bison, wolves, and Perdido key beach mice, as well as the millions of other mammals, birds, reptiles, amphibians, and fish, not to mention invertebrates. I’m grateful for animals, morning noon and night; though it makes me sad to think too hard about them, or to see pictures of some species, as human animals continue to devour and pollute the habitat of the other creatures we share the planet with, and of course wreak havoc with the climate. I’m grateful for people like the Bioneers and other researchers and activists who take seriously our relationship with other animals and the living organism that is Earth, striving to reconnect children of the Anthropocene with their roots in the animal kingdom.

Perseverance

Dec24
Wren, by popular demand. She’s cleaning the pot I cooked her latest batch of food in. And what a good job she’s doing!

I’m grateful for so much today. For friends reaching out or responding… for the desperately compassionate work of people like Robert Hubbell and John Pavlovitz among so many others who are trying to help us navigate these dark global days and darker nights. Honestly, it’s hard for me to get done in a day the few things I want to get done, and not because I’m overwhelmed with holiday festivities.

But I’m grateful I did manage to get bread baked today, and what a perfect loaf it was. I’m grateful for all the usual things; and grateful for incrementally longer days, and only two months or less until I can be gardening again. I’m grateful a lost cat I don’t even know returned home safely after weeks away. I’m grateful I’ve learned an antidote for empathy fatigue, and that is compassion. I’m grateful friends are healing well from injuries and surgeries, and grateful they have good medical care. I’m grateful I have backup internet access. I’m grateful my puppy, though her eye condition fluctuates, is healthy in all other ways. I’m grateful that daily exercise with my cousin seems to be keeping physical pain at bay these days.

And I’m grateful for perseverance. I set myself a monthly deadline to publish a podcast, and I’ve failed to meet it as often as I’ve succeeded. I’m more than a month overdue this time, but I’m grateful today that I finally managed to overcome inertia, to write and release episode 8 of ‘Suffer Less with Mindfulness,’ available now on your favorite podcast site. This episode is called Letting Go is a Diamond. Check it out when you’re somewhere you can get still and meditate for half an hour.

And of course I’m grateful for the cheese sandwich, after days without one. Today’s iteration: smoked gouda, avocado, lettuce, shiitake ‘bacon,’ and requisite mayo and Penzeys sandwich sprinkle. Each sandwich, each moment, unique.

Puppies

Dec22

I’m grateful I got to meet the new puppy in the neighborhood today. After sufficient time to grieve the loss of dear, departed Rocky, and giving a lot of thought and doing a lot of research, his mom has found a new canine companion. As with all dogs who come to us after the death of a great dog, this dog will not replace Rocky in her heart or in any of our hearts. He will instead bring his own unique brand of joy and personality to her and to our community.

Up little bear! Up! He’s very short and just a little bit pudgely, and he can’t jump high enough for a lap yet, but he’s happy for a hand up. At not quite ten weeks old, he already has the gigantic digging paws of his breed, Norfolk terrier.

He was sweet and very agreeable to cuddling with me for awhile, but then he wanted his mommy. She calls him Oso, and he already knows his new name and comes to it when he’s called.

After playtime and a very wiggly visit he was ready for a nap. Because he’s so young and hasn’t had all his shots yet, he’s not allowed to meet any other dogs for awhile, because of the risk of parvovirus, another damn virus, one that puppies are especially susceptible to. So Wren stayed home. When I returned, her usual bouncy greeting stopped abruptly after the second bounce when she smelled the puppy on my pants. She can hardly wait to meet her little cousin!

Speaking of Wren, her brown eye seems almost completely healed. I can’t quite tell, because this eye has always been a little weepy, and squinted a bit more than her blue eye. She’s still getting antibiotic drops for a few more days until they run out, and may need a follow-up at the vet next week. Fingers crossed she will continue to improve and not need any invasive investigation. We’ll know more later. Even though she’s almost a grown lady at three and a half going on four, she’ll always be my little girl. I’m grateful for puppies.

Meaningful Work

Dec16

I’m grateful that I get to do meaningful work that benefits others and keeps me on a healthy path. Mindfulness is for everyone. Though there can be spiritual aspects to it, they’re not necessary to reap rewards from a daily practice. The mission of the Mindful Life Program, which created the curriculum for this Mindfulness Foundations Course, is to make mindfulness practical, accessible, and universal. I’m grateful to teach this course quarterly, and by request on a custom schedule. Registration for the January course is open until December 28.

Help

Dec11

I’m grateful today for the opportunity to help someone process a big and painful decision, and I’m grateful for receiving a healing session of embodied inquiry from a new teacher. I’m grateful for the profound meaning I experienced with each, and the heartfelt connection with someone else in the first case, and with my self in the second. I’m also grateful for altocumulus clouds!