Published August 4, 2016 by

Many lovely things happened today, as every day.

But today something stood out. Oh, well a few things.

I ventured out today to grab some sparkling water at the local gas station. I needed a break from writing and I like to sip this treat while relaxing in the woods.

As I was standing in line, a young man of about 17 got in line behind me.  I had seen him as I walked in and he was wearing a hoodie with a baseball hat and he had a number of tattoos and piercings.

I was being silly as usual, tapping my debit card on the counter in time to whatever song I was singing under my breath as we waited in line. This caused it to fly out of my hand where it landed right at my feet. And then, in strange, synchronistic slow motion, it skidded away until it stopped perfectly in front of the young man’s boot.

He instantly bent to pick it up and as he rose to hand it to me, we had a moment.

He had the most pure and genuinely beautiful smile as he gave it back to me. I offered mine in return. And there was just something about this interaction that felt really, really nice. We both left glowing just a little bit.

I have learned that people can love doing things for me. Little things, big things.

There are real cowboys out here who enjoy sweeping doors open for me, helping me with my groceries and other such chivalrous things.

I love it.

My heart told me to come out here.

As I sat this evening in a field twinkling with the golden rays of the setting sun through the trees and the high prairie grass blowing in the wind, I feel as though I have entered some strange portal, that I am living in a new reality.

I have been living in a new reality teeming with angels and heavenly beauty since I first moved out here, alone, almost a year ago.

I gazed out at the mountains in the near distance. An eagle soared overhead in slow circles. The clouds out here are magic, with prismatic partial rainbows, the likes of which I never would even have known existed.

What if, I wonder, I actually did die out near the frozen lake this winter where I spent so many hours alone, testing my new limits, feeling my upgraded heart swell with joy amid the contractions of residual pain?

Maybe I am now a romantic old ghost wandering, caught between heaven and earth..




Published July 31, 2016 by


“I’m sorry! We don’t have your spot tonight.”


I greeted the pretty young hostess with a puzzled look. “You remember me?”
“Of course! You come in alone…very soft always ask to sit by the fireplace.”
A half smile graced my face for a moment. I had felt so anonymous in this dimly lit place with the good, life affirming food, minutes from the hospital here in town.


But someone had been noticing me. Like the nurse who asked why I never turn the tv on. And why I spend hours gazing out the window.


Aren’t you bored?


I find it interesting the things we notice about other people.
She showed me to a table as close to the fire as was available and I sat down, ordered the usual, and wrapped my hands around a cup of peppermint tea to wait.
I like to sit facing everyone else. The tables near the fireplace are elevated and I can sort of see their faces in the dark and catch bits of their conversations.
I close my eyes for a moment. I grin. I bite my lip to contain my excitement.
Haha! Again. I’ve done it again. Danced out of the grip of death. It’s almost funny to me at this point.
When will you get the hint? You can’t have me yet! Our time will come, but please, I ask, be patient.


Every connection you make while wearing a hospital gown is ripe with meaning.
The elderly vietnamese nurse who asked “Only broth and juice?”. I smiled.
“Don’t want to get too…” I patted my tummy. We laughed and she did a little jig.
The custodial woman from Fiji who always greeted me shyly. I could tell she wanted to talk to me about something.
When I ditched the hospital gown, gently made up my face and walked confidently, slowly down the hall, that same hall, yet again, her eyes widened and her jaw dropped.
“You don’t look sick!”
Yes. I am good at that.
“Ah, they got tired of me. Said I could go home.”
I smiled. She grabbed my hand and held it for a moment.
“You remind me of my daughter back home”.
I am no one’s daughter, I think.
We smile at each other for a few more moments and then I step into the elevator.
It is raining outside. This excites me. Any intrusion of inescapable nature in the city excites me.
I turn my face to the sky. And think about how awesome that fireplace will feel.



Published July 23, 2016 by


The amount I was once willing to pay to rid myself of my mother was my own life.

The least I can do at this point is a week with the person I’ve determined to be the best therapist for my particular brand of possession.

That is how it feels. Like a splinter of my mother’s evil is inside of me and not only does it cause chaos in my life but it tries to prevent me from getting help.

I’m afraid to see this therapist, I think. No, I correct myself, my mother is afraid for me to see the therapist.

She hated me for needing help as a child.

You can see this all over my life now at just a glance.

I’ve grown into an adult who once, when taken off guard, yelled “don’t touch me!”, startling the kind clerk at the self check out when she tried to assist me with my groceries.

I’m not afraid to see the therapist.

But I am afraid of being found not worthy of his help in some way.

I am afraid of the feelings that arise when I feel disappointed that he has some important issue in his life preventing him from giving me, a stranger, what I want.

And I am afraid of entering into a relationship that will begin the moment our voices connect digitally.

Relationships of any intensity have hurt me way too much.

I prefer my trees, thanks.

I’ve found some solace in meeting the person out here that I thought I always wanted to meet.

I was surprised to find that I feel less empty inside. Or maybe now I am more numb to the emptiness.

Inspired by S, I am googling Stoic Philosophy.

Lately, I have been longing for the ocean.


Life therapy

Published July 10, 2016 by

“Oh don’t worry, he’s friendly!”

Well then… why is he looking at my leg like it’s a drumstick?

Ran into people on the descent last night. Didn’t realize till I got home that I had mascara rings around my eyes. And it strikes me as funny that I would wear mascara for a solo hike but I suppose if anyone would do that, it would be me.

I usually find something to cry about once I reach a mountaintop.

Yesterday, it was that a calm loving presence came over me and I heard the words

Your heart got you here.


Inspiration Life

Published July 4, 2016 by

The sliver of a perfect rainbow slides into view under my bedroom door for just a moment and then retreats. An invitation. Hey you, it’s sunny outside.

There are no windows or mirrors in the room I have chosen for a bedroom in my house. At night, it is like a sleep chamber and once the small reading lamp is out, I am gone til morning where I then watch sleepily from the bed to see sunlight and the reflection from the spinning crystals in the window sill try to creep in under the door.

I got out my journal this morning. Wow. This past year will definitely have been the best and craziest chapter of my life. So far, anyway.

There is a new beginning in the air.

Last week I was in Calgary wrapping up my 9 month participation in the Calgary Association of Professional Speakers fast track program. I also had a dental appointment so I decided to stay a few days and treat myself, staying at my favorite new hotel.

That night I was getting ready to go out and when I went to put my tray outside my hotel room, I had two thoughts:

  • why do they make these doors and trays so heavy?
  • maybe I should be wearing a shirt when I do this?

Of course, after I struggled the door open with my elbows, I dropped the tray, tried to not drop it and subsequently locked myself out of the room wearing just a bra and some yoga pants. The door across the way opened at that moment and an older, distinguished looking woman stopped midsentence and dead in her tracks, eyes widening.

“Oh, hi! I’m sorry, I got locked out. Can I use your phone to …hello?”

She slowly stepped out of the doorway and back into the room. Click.


A few doors down, I could hear some voices and two women were coming out of their room.  They were a godsend of course. I perched on their desk while they sat on the 2 queen beds in the room. We chatted casually, laughing. There is something about me that makes strangers think I have answers about things, apparently even when I’m in my underwear in public. They ask me for advice. Most of the time, I like it.

We had a micro relationship, those women and I, in my almost naked vulnerability, waiting for the concierge in his top hat to let my half almost naked self back inside my room.

But that interaction with those ladies in the face of an awkward and potentially unpleasant situation has pretty much been the norm for me this year.

The things I have been through have been extremely crazy. But to me, they were actually pretty great because I got to meet and be supported by truly amazing people.

There is not one single thing I would have changed.

I heeded a call to head out here this year and it was the catalyst for a domino effect of strange occurrences, serendipitous opportunities and amazing connections.

Change is in the air and I have no idea what to expect next but I am excited.




Published June 29, 2016 by


Published June 24, 2016 by

One must be numb to survive the city.

The noise, the crowds, the billboards the constant sensory over-stimulation.

But people are mammals. And cities are a thing that people make, like beavers make dams. Cities are an organic thing in their own right. I tried to sense into the city the way I do in the woods and without judgement.

It had a different flavor when I did that. But it was still too much. I swear I can feel the wifi and cell signals slicing though me all over like laser beams.

I played with that.

What if that is not a bad thing? Really, how does it feel, this thing that people have made that has enhanced our lives? What kind of experience is that?

Returning home rituals:

remove pants

open all windows

burn incense


feel grateful

Instead of magpies like the city, I have trembling aspens outside one of my windows. They fill the house with the sound of waves day and night as the wind sighs through them. The air circulating in here is the kind that people are now willing to pay for. I live in it. My luxuries are infinite. How has such grace entered my life?

Quietly, I would say.


Inspiration Life

Published June 15, 2016 by






Published June 14, 2016 by

I have beautiful nights often.

I love being outside at nighttime no matter what the weather. The less clothing, the better.

This time, a few weeks ago, I was in the city.

Friends who have me stay over know that I walk at night. I’ve stopped doing that in the mountains ever since the time I caught the flashing eyes of a cougar in my headlights after a late night solo stroll.

But in the city, I feel safe. In fancy neighborhoods with quiet streets, manicured lawns and long driveways after dark. That I am so free and frivolous just steps away from unassuming people brushing their teeth, checking their email…this only adds to my amusement and excitement.

I remember that night smelled like bonfire and I could hear the muted noise of a backyard gathering. As I moved on, the lilacs seemed so alive. On every corner, the color of them stood in relief against a night that was mostly black, grey and the gold of the street lights.

I twirled down the empty streets, singing softly to myself, twisting a sprig of spring flowers between my fingers overhead, enjoying their fresh smell and the warm, windy night. A breeze ran its fingers through my hair.  I love having long, dark, flowing hair.

Also, I feel sometimes like I absorb midnight through my skin. It feels like the slow blush of bourbon, deepening in intensity the longer any bare part of me is exposed to the night air.

I walked for an hour, stopping for minutes on end to hold my hand out under the dancing shadows the lilac bushes cast like lace over the pavement.

I can’t help but giggle and laugh to myself at times like these. I’d been in the ER twice that month. Ever the escape artist, here I stood, strolling, smiling, singing, dancing while everyone slept and I with not a care in the world. A moment frozen in time.

These experiences are what luxury means to me. Purring, pure color, heightened sense moments of being aware of every sensation within a waking dream.

I hope in some other reality, there is now the ghost of a girl with midnight in her skin, singing softly, gaily strolling those streets after dark for eternity and whatever comes after.