I’m working once again to lose my post-pregnancy weight…it’s been 25 years since the baby. There have been peaks and valleys, fitness regimens and meal plans. Just when I thought I had things under control, menopause slapped me in the face. I hit a plateau. A brick wall. A stand-off.
Posts filed under Personal essay
The Past Rarely Stays in the Past
Sometimes it’s hard to uncover the truth about past events. Other times the past reveals its truths almost unbidden. Either way, the past rarely stays only in the past.
Beautiful Ways
I was raised in rural Colorado and on the Navajo Nation reservation in Arizona, in what is known as The Four Corners region. On a map, this area appears as a cross where four right angles meet to join Colorado, Arizona, Utah, and New Mexico. This is the original home of several Native American groups, including the Navajo people, also known by their preferred name of Dine’ (dih-neh), meaning “The People.” I feel fortunate to have been immersed in such a unique culture, and I often reflect on the experiences that taught me some valuable life lessons.
Out of My Comfort Zone: Dare to Be with Lauren Crane
I look at a comfort zone like a backyard garden. Plant seeds—let’s say tomato—in rich soil and they’ll grow in fat and juicy abundance. Really cool, you say, this will be my tomato patch forevermore. Not so fast. If you keep planting the same crop in the same plot season after season, you’ll deplete the soil and, sadly, your bushel basket will be bare. But throw in parsnips the next year, plug in peas the year after that, and you’ll keep the soil balanced and fertile, ready for the next good thing. I’ll stop pretending that I have a green thumb and get to the point of this metaphor.
Out of My Comfort Zone: Discomfort Zone
This assignment stumped me at first. To begin with, dear Crazy Wisdom, which self are you hoping to hear from? Me as singer, music facilitator, filmmaker, spiritual practitioner, business owner, or merely human being?
Fifty Years Since We Last Went to the Moon
Fifty years ago, December 1972, was the last time men walked on the moon. (Yes, it’s only been men. I’ll get back to that later.) Eugene Cernan, Commander of that Apollo 17 mission said then as he prepared to step off the moon for the last time, “… as I take man’s last step from the surface, back home for some time to come—but we believe not too long into the future …”
Tell Every Amazing Lady These Five Lessons
I am a T.E.A.L. survivor. T.E.A.L.® stands for Tell Every Amazing Lady about ovarian cancer. It is an organization (and national movement) started to help women identify signs and symptoms and urge them to seek medical help in its early stages, because ovarian cancer is often overlooked until it is too late. When it declares itself with debilitating symptoms, usually in stage III or IV, the prognosis is poor, so in an attempt to get the information out there, I share my cautionary tale.
Pulling Weeds in Crow, Montana
I was viscerally aware, that the United States of America, with the help of the Supreme Court, has broken every single treaty it signed with our indigenous siblings. The Supreme Court recently has upended environmental law. Fire season in the dry, western states has begun. I think about Jackie Whisperstep and the fragility of her house given the heartiness of the weeds that grow too near it. And I long to go back, to stand with those to whom we made promises we did not keep.
Wintering Within
As I write this the days are lengthening, the sun riding high in the sky, and the expansiveness of summer stretches before me—though the days seem to be filling fast. So much to cram in here, in Michigan, where summer is the fleetest season: lake time, picnics, parties, peony blooms, and cicada chirps, fireflies and star showers, light until late in the evening and 4 a.m. birdsong. Long, hot, humid-filled days and hopefully, lots of water play. But you will be reading this after all that has passed, and the days shorten. I am always surprised how soon the dark comes in late August, how quickly the dusk rises, how the trees begin their color change, their leaf drop.
A Moment of Joy
And then, unexpectedly, I heard a little voice singing a brief blues lyric in the back of my head. “A thimbleful of good news, a bucketful of bad.” Thinking that a line that good likely did not originate with me, I immediately Googled it. And found to my happy surprise, that in fact it had.
