the solstice

solstice - the standing still of the sun

Movements continue. Does moving end? Can it stop?

I enjoy this time of year, enjoy the ways of Christmas, appreciate the blending of freneticism with the enforced stillness that is a bi-product of winter weather . The collective energy around shopping, cooking, travelling, socializing is not so apparent for me here in northern New Hampshire. Last week we received nearly 18" of snow with single-digit temperatures (and I'm not speaking metrically here). Then a warm up with a deluge of rain. This week another 6-10" of snow (I better understand the name 'White Mountains') and the diving temp's.

I must admit I've had my eyes on the calendar hanging in the kitchen, seeing that this Tuesday is the winter solstice, the magical time of year when the relationship between planet Earth and the Sun dramatically shifts. The days while long in darkness hold the promise of more light. Being a woman who migrates towards metaphors and analogies, I notice a parallel between the tipping of the Earth out of the shadow and the path of my life beginning to show forms and shapes where, for the past year or so, it has been somewhat shrouded in mystery.

In the past week, yes, that's right, just one week, I intersected with two opportunities which came to fruition. I interviewed for a position as a clinician with a group private practice based out of New London, NH. I was offered a job with them last Monday and I'm thrilled, ecstatic, pleased, and grateful. The agency is called Counseling Associates of New London (http://www.nlcounselingassociates.com/) and I was impressed with the folks there with whom I met. Secondly, I yielded to my own inner nudgings and the encouragement of some close friends to look into bodywork training. Perhaps I can give this more form over the coming months. For now I can say that for more than a decade I've been drawn to working with my hands, migrated towards better understanding how the body can be accessed as an intrinsic element in working with emotional and mental issues in psychotherapy. I came across a unique training institute based out of southern Vermont and, after meeting with one of the founders/trainers, I decided to do their upcoming 3-month training program (http://www.internationalbodywork.com/ and then click on the Portugal program - yes, that's right, Portugal).

So, by the kindness of my new employer and their willingness to accommodate a 3-month delay in the start of my working, I am headed to southwestern Portugal mid-January for an intensive program in massage and bodywork. I'm not sure how or if I'll be able to bring this into my work as a psychotherapist for some time but I know that my direction as a clinician is towards working more fundamentally with the body-mind-heart dynamic.

The last couple of months have been full of wonderful experiences. Bradford and I travelled to Arizona for Thanksgiving with his relations. I was able to visit Fernie, BC where I once lived and reconnect with dear friends. My best pal, Kirsten, visited for a few days and we day-tripped to the Maine coastline. When Ben went for his scheduled neutering at the end of November, the veterinary technicians let me know, in no uncertain terms, that if I am to care properly for my beloved canine, I am to be getting him groomed regularly as well as ensuring that I am cleaning out his ears of wax and excess hair weekly - while I get an 'A' in exercise and attention, I flunked grooming and skin management. Alas, at the beginning of December Ben met with his new lovely and lively hairdresser who, despite her best intentions of saving some of his locks relieved him of his entire mop-like coat. Finally, Ben has discovered his penchant for socks and underwear. One Friday evening when I was otherwise distracted, he swiftly took hold of the situation to swallow one pair of white tennis socks as well as one pair of underwear. After consulting with fellow dog owners and a few veterinary types, I was told to relax, that the clothing would find its way out... somehow. Alas, after a week of regular bowl movements and normal eating behavior, Ben got up early one morning and regurgitated a big cotton log (one sock and the underwear). Later the same day at the end of a long hike, up came the second sock. Amazing how the dog's body could carry on as if all was usual with a pound of cotton in his stomach.

May the holidays find you well. May you gift yourself with the all-important opportunities for quiet space; the time of darkness being a potent ally for reflection and stillness. As I currently feel the seas of my life stirring and the figures of my path begin to take shape before me, I am thankful both for the forms that are arising as well as the period of not-knowing that gave it birth. Hibernation. Gestation. Darkness. Uncertainly. Confusion. The Mystery appears to be made up of equal parts dark and light, form and formless, knowing and not-knowing. While the forms are frequently intoxicating and the confusion generally unsettling, Life will have its way and demand that we sit in the stillness or risk spiralling off into madness.

equinox - equal night

the fall of 2010

No doubt it's been a time since my last blog entry. Might be a time before my next.

I've travelled to Boulder, CO for a few days - had wonderful visits with a few friends in the area and then replicated the cross-country drive with Bradford and Uhaul trailer in tow between Boulder and Franconia; this time Bradford's stuff in the trailer as he brought to a close a chapter of his life in Colorado and joined me for some living in New England.

I've also celebrated my 40th birthday with the brilliant and beautiful women of North Country Shelter and then journeyed to Ontario with Bradford and Ben to celebrate many October family birthdays with the folks across the border. Wowee.

What else? I'll write the NCMHCE for both NH and VT state licensing requirements next week down in Concord. There's a good chance I won't pass. Then again, anything can happen.

My life with Ben is breathtaking. I'm simply smitten. My unfolding adventure with Bradford is pretty cool. We're shacked up which is fun. And not so much fun when it's cold and dark and neither one of us knows exactly what life holds in store for us.

What do I really want to say? I'm a middle-aged woman (I can say this now) who is unemployed, somewhat unfocused in her life's direction (at least professionally), with $9 in her bank account. As I walked with the dogs through the woods and trails this late afternoon, I was talking myself into being frank about this whole situation with whatever eyes come across this screen.

This life thing, it's an unwin-able endeavour. There is no 'logos' to which humans currently ascribe with any success. God, the search for meaning, religion, materialism, service, comfort, security, control, peace, enlightenment, knowledge, salvation, environmentalism. You name it, none of these forms can bring a sense of completion, rightness, nor ultimately be attained. Nailing jello to a tree. Not that we stop trying, as a collective humanity, however. And that's the insanity. To look for meaning, to grope for a handhold where there is nothing. Emptiness, no-thingness, the great Void, the Mystery. So many of us try to assign benevolence to the Mystery and emptiness. Then it wouldn't be empty - it would have an angle.

I see it as the ultimate joke. We just want something to hold onto. If it could be held, put into words, captured by the mind through thought and ideology, it would be a shoddy sham. Everything we can hold or aspire towards has a built-in self-destruction unit and man, it's gonna hurt when it dissolves or blows up and there we are, holding on for dear life. The joke is that we take our 'logos' so seriously. We take this dream of being a human so seriously. We take our stories so seriously and get so lost in the groping for and reinforcement of a false self that depends on our opinions, circumstances, and personal drama. Speaking for myself, I have taken this dream of being alive so seriously, and that's the sick and brilliant sense of humour of the Cosmos unfolding.

In my life I have had a lot of fear around being destitute, a failure, a floundering fool, incapacitated, out of control. At middle age and with $9 to my name, I'm meeting what once was my worst fear and I'm laughing like never before. If you're not laughing, afterall, you've gone to sleep in the dream and gotten lost in character. You've gone and made the fatal error of trying to lean into that which doesn't exist.

We are a crazy, crazy species. We will go to extraordinary lengths to avoid our fears of emptiness, meaninglessness. We will hide through seeking. We will sooner die than relinquish our all-precious beliefs. We will destroy life to hold onto a false-self. We would rather acquire more information than experience more truth. We will always draw to us new opportunities to wake up. This is grace.

Good luck.

uncompromising cooperation with life

A full week coming to a close.

My replacement, Kelly, began her new posting at the shelter so I spent time helping her acclimate to the position; her responsibilities, the ways of NCS, the understandings I have garnered around the juvenile justice system, etc... She's a bright woman and undoubtedly the job will bring her new challenges and moments of great inspiration. Three more days for me, Monday through Wednesday, and I will, again, be officially unemployed. Hmmm...

Sadly, my friend, Red, was put down this week. The tough decision was taken by Becky and Harry for a number of reasons including Red's age, health, and mental wellness. Walking with Willy and Ben this week on the trails around their home was an adjustment. I will notice his absence. His presence touched my life. There's simply nothing like a dog.

Ben went in for more needles including his rabies shot so I can take him over the border into Canada in the future. His weight has doubled. During his first visit to the vet's a couple of weeks ago I was encouraged to up his food servings because he was too skinny. That is no longer true. He's getting taller and moves with an awkwardness not disimilar to the way many of the adolescents in the shelter inhabit their bodies - forgetting how big and heavy his feet are, not quite understanding how throwing his weight in one direction can topple him onto his head. Spending the week dogsitting and homesitting for Becky and Harry gave Willy the opportunity to begin in earnest Ben's education into doghood. Willy has been running Ben over when he gets too boisterous, snarling at him when Ben attempts to steal a toy, and ignoring his cuteness when he's simply had enough. With Red gone, Willy is demonstrating a new quality of maturity, taking on alpha status - if you knew Willy, you'd understand how bizarre this is to watch.

June, my VW, finally got legal - a new catalytic converter, a new air pump, and a brake light found me/us passing NH emissions inspection. One year after moving to New England and the check engine light is off!

The thing about a check engine light going off is that now it can always come back on. While I'm still riding a small feeling of satisfaction that my car has no recognizable problems, it's only a matter of time before I need new brakes or a new exhaust system, a timing belt, a clutch. I see that I've created a lot of tension in myself throughout my life trying to avoid things being broken, out of place (whatever that means), or going wrong. If you've ever visited my place of residence or seen the way I make my bed first thing in the morning, you know how fastidious I am about things not being awry in my world - I love order and loathe chaos - I am a control freak. Moreover, I have a highly developed/practiced ability to spot anything that is 'off.'

Did I mention that Willy got sprayed by a skunk this week?

A very fun experience for me. I woke up just before 5am to take Willy and Ben out for their first morning walk - a short one that lets them clear their systems after the night of rest. In that moment, just before becoming lucid while still suspended in the dream state but entering the world of waking I had a felt experience of there being nothing, absolutely nothing 'off' in my world. This wasn't a qualitative analysis and inventory of the circumstances of my life but a deep and unmoving sense in my system that there could be nothing other than right - life is, there's no arguing with the unfolding of life. Of course we have free will. As humans we are likely the only species on the planet that questions the way things are. We have a mechanism in our brains that has the capability to imagine other scenarios. Add this to our ability to conceptualize and compare ourselves to others and the various protective and fear-based strategies that our egos employ and it's a recipe for deep dissatisfaction.

Or not.

Why do we not walk through life with an unwavering acceptance for what is? Why do we find it comforting and compelling to look for and imagine what is wrong? Why do we, with the frighteningly powerful gift of self-awareness, not know enough to view the world as unconditionally supportive and therefore align ourselves with this reality? It might sound like the ramblings of a wacked out fruitcake but I think there's some value in looking at our habits of mind and how the course we set through life is a direct consequence of our power of perception.

So, as Willy came running back to me from his disappearance in the dark field the smell of skunk was so potent that my eyes were burning. My habitual reaction was to say, "No!" Fortunately, I was still floating on my little cloud of perceived perfection and I started to giggle and I thought, "This too is life. No point in judging it as good or bad. It's here. Why resent what has unfolded? Why take life personally?" And so, a little thing but I decided to alter my habit of mind and instead relish, okay maybe not relish, but I decided to fully accept the newly annointed Willy rather than think I had just been victimized by life. Low and behold, no upset only entertainment. It's not to say that action can't be taken - full cooperation and agreement with the way life unfolds does not preclude being able to respond. My sense is that my response to life is more clear, more intelligent, because my mind is in alignment rather than in resistance.

Today, Anemone and I hiked up to a top section of Bridal Veil Falls, just south of Franconia. While Willy was nimbly cartwheeling and careening himself off rock ledges and over and through the swollen creek, Ben was tenuous and slipping off the wet rocks and landing on his ass (or face). At one point we crossed the creek just above a long drop in the falls. Ben slid into the water and began heading towards the waterfall's drop. Without thought, I looked at his freaked out eyes, his little body unable to gain purchase as he was carried by the current closer to the falls, and I jumped in and grabbed him. I don't know that there was time enough to think "No." All I knew was that my little guy was not going down the falls if I had any power over the situation. And I did.

And then, already soaked, I took off my wet clothes and shoes and slid down the rocks into the deep pool of frigid water. Life is short, afterall, never miss an opportunity to jump in the water. Say yes. That's what heated car seats were made for.

The images - Red pictured at the top. Willy and Ben from a week or so ago. The rest are from my walk this morning with the dogs. The lighting and fog formations were breathtaking, nestling the mountains like islands in the sea. I can imagine that there were people in their homes underneath the fog patches thinking that it was another rainy day while, for me, I got to lose myself in the rapture of a sky that I will never see again. That's the thing about being human, we get to choose, for better or worse - free will.

Labour Day takes on new meaning

This was a very, very full weekend. My friend, Sue, brought me and her sister, Jane (from Quebec) to experience "Wicked" (http://www.wickedthemusical.com/) in Boston on Saturday. I could hardly take in the whole production, mindblowing. The stage was constantly full of creative spirit; the music, the script, the talent, the layered implications questioning what so many of us accept as the water in which we swim (good vs. evil, the nature of happiness, the fickle nature of truth, the power of collective energy run amok). The musical is based on Gregory Maguire's 1995 book which takes one perspective on the preceding events and human development issues of the character 'Elphaba' - otherwise known as the Wicked Witch of the West from 'The Wizard of Oz.' My next step is to borrow the book from the library. Needless to say, the musical not only captured my imagination and stoked my creative spirit but also reinforced my tendency to ruminate on the questions I hold on the nature of evil in humanity - does darkness actually reside outside of any of us?

From Boston, Ben and I drove down to Little Compton, RI to visit with my friends Ryan and Calyn who were spending a week with Calyn's family in the east from their home in Boulder. I am amazed by the gracious and warm hospitality I have received regularly over the last year as I have explored life in New England. The family's land is breathtaking, extending down to the sea and across beautiful farming areas. Hurricane Earl left some solid surf and warm, sunny days in his wake so the two half-days were spent near or in the water. Ben is continuing his introduction to the world of loving water - whether he likes it or not. (see photo of his attempt at body surfing)

In other news, since the new Green Card has taken up residency in my wallet (it's actually green, unlike the initial conditional card which looks more like a driver's license), I've begun to meet the requirements for professional licensure in NH. If Vermont licensure is not too cost-prohibitive, I'll start their application process also. It looks like life is leading me back into private practice - other attempts at securing agency work have not panned out. Besides, I notice I'm a bit squeamish at the idea of working Monday to Friday, 9-5 again.

Apparently over the last year, I have grown rather accustomed to the unstructured work week - I certainly don't mind working, I quite like it, in fact. It's just that I like my working to be more project-based, incorporating a variety of activities. At times, I like the intensive scheduling that is involved in contract deadlines. At other times, I enjoy taking a roadtrip or slipping into a week of writing for my own enjoyment. If you were to ask me, from the perspective of this moment in time, what my fantasy professional life would look like in the future, I would tell you that I would love to combine work as a family therapist, facilitating groups (working with traditional group therapy as well as bringing aspects of psychotherapy to organizational management), teaching/training other professionals in the field, creative writing, and farming and homesteading (bees and sheep).

Speaking of writing, I'm moving into a new experience of writing that is a departure from my earlier endeavours. I'm not inclined to say more at this time other than relating that it's highly enjoyable, highly uncomfortable, and the outcome is uncertain - to say the least.

In other areas of my life terrain, I can hardly contain my love for Ben. He's different from any dog I've enfolded into my life before. I feel a bit off-center for admitting how significant his presence is in my life. I can imagine other women, mothers actually, rolling their eyes and maybe misunderstanding how one can compare the connection one feels to a pet to the fullness of motherhood. I admit, I really can't imagine what the feeling of being in love with one's own child is like. I've felt deep love for many humans. Professionally I've fallen in love with countless adolescents as they have invited me into their personal struggles and heartbreak. But I've had no children of my own.

As I look at the near horizon, turning 40 next month, it's unlikely I'll ever give birth. I've asked myself over the last year how I am doing with this potential - no children. I feel some loss and grief around the situation - I've heard it said that one of the hardest aspects of divorce is the death of the dreams someone formed when they decided to marry. Being childless is a bit like this for me. How can I really greive something that never happened except to acknowledge the death of the dreams and hopes I imagined around being a mom one day.

Fortunately, there is no remorse or regret in me. I can't look back at my life and see a juncture when, if I had only made a different choice, things would have been different and I might have become a mother. My life is and has been breathtaking. There is a fullness I cherish and this fullness includes the sadness I feel that something I wanted did not come to bear. Even now, as my eyes fill up with tears and my breathing becomes unsteady, I am utterly grateful for the bounty of my life - pain and all.

Ben is beautiful. Gentle Ben. I don't subscribe to the opinion that he acts as a surrogate child for me. He does not live in my life as a replacement. He is Ben. A dog with so much love coming out of him, so much to teach me about showing up and being engaged. He sleeps when he sleeps. He eats when he eats. He runs around in circles and does rodeo-bull jumping when the feeling overtakes him. No self-consciousness. Just the manifestation of this love-energy I've decided to call 'Ben.' I'm lucky he likes me too.

Ultimately life is about loving; a courageous act of opening and receiving, allowing without grasping, offering without attachment to outcome. Perhaps this process culminates in the act of Creativity - one expression of creation is giving birth, only one expression amongst an infinite number of creative expressions. A future blog entry will no doubt encircle and explore the dance of creativity and the ultimate vulnerability which it demands. For now, the day is coming to a close. Labour Day is coming to a close. My little Labradoodle is circled up in a ball, asleep at the foot of my rocking chair. I sit on a deck under the stars above northern New Hampshire. I don't know what mysterious acts of God/Creativity are awaiting my presence in the fertile void. But I'm awake.

better than perfect

Ok, I know it's only a matter of time before Ben shows his other, darker side but for now I'm just going to enjoy the utter light that he beams out into the world.

My friend, Jen from Fernie, BC, travelled here over the last couple of weeks - a kick-off celebration for our upcoming 40th's. We spent some time in New Hampshire and Maine and also drove up to the Gaspe Penninsula in QC for a few days (photo of sunrise). Ben has been getting acquainted with water, both in the form of rivers as well as tides. I wouldn't report that he's overly-zealous about the whole experience but he seems to trust enough to follow me in,.... to a point.


He's adapted to long roadtrips, fairly essential quality for someone who shares a life with me. He's beyond cute and attracts much attention in public (I've felt inclined at times to put a sign on my neck saying: "He's a Labradoodle. He's 11 weeks old. His name is Ben."). He has taken to sleeping through the night as long as I cut off his water intake at 7pm and one doesn't mind getting up at 5:30am. He's taken some good long walks in the mountains and valleys without complaint. On our last full day together, Jen and I wound up in the rain, a 2 hour soaker of a hike, and he took on a rather new look: half his size when he's soaking wet and inspiring great feelings of pathos. The photo taken in the bathtub was an attempt to warm up his chilled bones following the romp in the rain.


I can tell we're starting to nudge into rebellion. As I sat down to type this entry, he heard the voices of my neighbours through the trees and he let out his first attempt at barking with ferocity. When he failed to abide with my gutteral "Nhaaagh!" (the recommendation of one of my puppy training books), I dropped him to the ground and held him down until he relaxed under my dominance. Might as well take advantage of his learning curve (and my relative size advantage) to help him absorb healthy boundaries.

The summer is winding down here in northern New Hampshire. I'm ready for autumn. The leaves have given up their verdant quality and, while still appearing green to the naked eye, one can feel that death is looming in the life cycle. The nights are cool in the cottage now - okay, that never changed at any point over the short summer

I'm in my last month of work at the shelter. My replacement is to begin at the Clinical Coordinator post on the 13th of September and I'll show her the ropes until the 22nd. I'm pleased - for me, for her, and the shelter. Not sure what is coming around the next corner, other than my birthday -- but I digress. I'd like to spend the month of September getting paperwork in order for my professional license in NH. I'd like to spend September connected to Ben, investing the time in our long-term relationship. I'd like to spend September watching the autumn colours bleed in and then fall away.


My life is lacking nothing. When I think something is awry, it's me - an indication that I've allowed my own limited agenda to warp my perspective and dislocate my sense of utter connectedness. Life includes loss, pain, relief, learning, falling, standing up, falling again, laughing, and confusion. As much as I try to apply the rules of systems, analysis, and logic, life is not a problem to be solved but a mystery to be relished. Loving life is less about exchanging than creating, less about knowing than bursting open, and less about security than humour. Sign me up.

gimme a "B"!

B is for birthday - which I began celebrating this week. Just 7 weeks ahead of time I kicked off the next 40 years with .... "Ben" - Ben is short for Benevolence (thanks to Anemone for the inspiration for a name) which is pretty much all this little soul puts out into the world (along with the standard waste materials).

Indeed, I'm in love. I can't imagine a sweeter soul. Or smarter. He's already sat calmly for his first bath, learned how to come and sit (see photos), do his business in the out-of-doors, make the residents and staff at the shelter smile, prepare my morning coffee, greet me with a beer when I come in the door, run my bath, and balance my chequebook. In only two days. This dog is amazing! And he's cute as sin. AND, he simply sleeps when you can't play. And he freakin' cute. And he doesn't shed.

He was born June 12th so he's another wonderful Gemini to add to the mix in my life. This week he weighed in at 17 lbs, the largest in his litter of 10, and though not a guaranteed indicator, his paws and legs are huge.

And he's a sign of things to come. The day after I brought Ben home I picked up a letter from US Citizenship and Immigration which began with "Congratulations!" I'm relieved. Though I love Canada and miss my family and friends north of the border, New England simply feels like home for now. And so, it's onto acquiring my professional licensure here and looking for a happy fit as far as earning an income goes - that's one skill Ben has yet to adapt.

...waiting

It's been far too long. It's coming to the end of July. Nearly one year ago I posted my first blog entry. The cliche, "The more things change, the more they stay the same." comes to mind. Maybe it's because we/I don't really change; the details are different but I'm not sure they are relevant. Nonetheless, here's some updating info on the details...

Home - I continue to live in my wonderful cottage in the mountains of northern New Hampshire. The temperatures are never too warm here, my home is surrounded by large oak and maple trees which provide much shade during these long days of summer. The spiders and I have found some grace for each other. Every now and again I become 'Hurricane Martha' with a vacuum cleaner and suck up their intricately spun webs around the inside of the house; and like the persevering residents of the Gulf coast, they rebuild and continue their lives in the dark corners and high places. The bears (I've now distinguished at least 2) visit mostly in the very early morning but now that the birdfeeder is down, no more close encounters.

Work - I continue to work part-time at the Jefferson shelter with the crazy young'uns. They are nothing if not entertaining, creative, lively, and beautiful. Their histories and life circumstances sometimes cause me to break wide open and sob. Other times, I give in to the need to distance myself and guard my heart so that I can do my job, complete their paperwork, and facilitate some groups in a professional way. I'm enjoying the work more as a half-timer but I know that this arrangement will soon come to an end; NCS needs a full-time clinician and I would like to do more therapy, particularly with adults, parents, and families.

Country - I'm waiting for the US Citizenship and Immigration Service (USCIS) to levy their final decision on my status as a Permanent Resident. This is a wild one. A month or so ago I received word that the department was challenging the legitimacy of my status and I was asked to respond with further documentation substantiating my original application for a Green Card two years ago (it's a long story). Essentially, their decision could go either way. They may grant my application and thus I can continue to live in the US or they may deny my application and ask me to return to 'my home and native land.' I had a tough first 24 hours after getting their letter, lots of emotions and fears rolled through me. And then I let go and did what needed to be done.

Options - Well,... it doesn't take a rocket scientist to appreciate that there is a period of waiting taking place right now. I'm waiting to find out if I will stay in New England or return to Ontario. I've got some options in mind but I wonder if this isn't just a distraction from the pounding silence that encircles me as I wait to see what Life will bring. When I frame it for myself in this way, I become more aware of the potential richness in the relative stillness.

But instead, to break the agitation that I often feel at times of waiting... wondering... anticipating... hoping... fearing... imagining - before the exhale that comes from finally receiving 'word,' I create plans and cultivate a plethora of ideas. I have looked at puppies for adoption. I have applied and been accepted into a school program for the fall. I have checked out job listings. I have gotten (some) car repairs done and re-licensed my VW for New Hampshire. I have looked at possible home rentals for the winter. I have printed off the requirements for licensure as a therapist in NH and VT. I have travelled to different parts of Vermont and New Hampshire to get a feel for where I might want to build a life. I have re-visited Ontario and family in hopes of discovering if there is a possible home and community for me there.

The one thing I notice that has really changed since receiving the letter from USCIS is that much of my writing activity has become suspended as I have suspended myself in waiting. I don't know why I have been more resistant to writing but I notice I am often too agitated to sink into writing and I feel compelled to take the actions which will be required for various possible outcomes.

I read back over my words above and I feel sad. I'm sad that with this seemingly real experience of waiting that I am in I have, in some ways, stopped living. Every now and again the sound of the wind in the high branches and leaves catches me off guard and captures my full attention. Every now and again, the early morning light discovers its way through the web-covered windows and lands on Bradford while he loses himself in reading, and my heart swells. Every now and again I remember to exhale.

But then I recall that I'm still waiting and I again lose my senses to planning. Maybe in all this waiting I am simply grasping for something to hold onto, whether it's a puppy or a new possibility.

A year ago I imagined myself taking a period of time to journey. I figured I'd be travelling for awhile and looking for a place to build a life. Low and behold, life unfolded, and yet the destination I thought I sought was nowhere to be found, is nowhere to be found. Just here. Just now. There is no waiting because there is nothing coming. And the more prepared I want to be for the nothing that is coming, the more prepared I better be to wake up now.