This March I turn 56. And for the first time, it is not a birthday I welcome. It will be the first one without my husband since we married over 26 years ago. My daughter is leaving home and moving to Colorado five days later. And I look in the mirror these days and feel old.
And then there are days like today. When I am called to make soup, with onions and celery and carrots and ginger. It is my version of Miso soup, hearty with many vegetables. I slice and dice and sauté and stir while classical music plays in the background. I go to make a cup of
Sometimes we need a hand to hold. Even though we know we can do it, are strong enough, smart enough to do it, sometimes, we somehow, just don't. Sometimes we need a little extra help, to get us over a hump, a bump. To give us a hug, or a sweet smile, to hold our hand
It is strange the things that trigger the grieving. The other day it was my visit to my accountant to prepare our taxes. Every year for over 26 years we had our ritual at tax time. The annual argument over turbo tax vs. an accountant. I always voted for the accountant; I usually won. Then
Sitting in a room with other beautiful souls, participating in a Kirtan Concert with Bachan Kaur, I let the heavenly music wash over me. Eyes closed, heart open, the songs flowed and danced and invited me to settle deep and relax, let go. At the end of the evening, we were invited to share some