Thank you for biomimicry and circular economies, and how the latter are an example of the former. Thank you for Janine Benyus.

Thank you for the swirl that’s the mark of freshly made hummus.

Thank you for another shit dream that may bore or sicken you so I’ll only recount a snippet. A runner had come into the dressing room where I sought refuge. She was no amateur but a serious athlete, like Des Linden—you could tell by her physique (strong, powerful) that she ran with diligence, that she devoted a big part of her life to it. Well, this runner marched in wordlessly, squatted, and let loose. I was terrified at how much came out of that lady’s rear but maybe more so at the contents: a cornucopia of whole plant foods. None of it actually looked or smelled like crap. (Her shit didn’t stink, so to speak.) It was sort of a rainbow, an unreal volume of quinoa, grapes, berries….

Reflection on the dream removed the disgust. This woman, a pro runner, had something like discipline. She trained harder than many of us can imagine. Her life went into being in top shape. And so, her “shit” had become “fruitful.” I think that’s what my unconscious wanted to tell me: when you do the work, you’ll still have a ton of crap to deal with. But it will bear fruit. (The mud grows the lotus.) Our bodies and minds make good of suffering so that what others may perceive as our waste or shame or dirt actually contains an enormous wealth. Sorry if that horrified you or sounded far fetched.

Thank you for friends back home sharing about the heavy rains. Thank you for their safety.

Thank you for loving dog moms to Audrey, Chance, Coco, Echo, Maya, Ravyn, Ruby, Sam, Seppe…

Thank you for Snoopy rescue operations and the compassion to see and alleviate suffering.

Thank you for eucalyptus scenting moist air, for damp earth padding footsteps, for water swooshing through creeks and gushing from falls.

Thank you for a shelf packed with noodles from the Asian market—a new adventure!

Thank you for the luxury to plot days to diminish that rushed and inadequate feeling. Do you have that feeling, too, or is it an anxiety thing? I’ve been trying to replace it with calm.

Time and room are adequate to accomplish all that’s important—today, tomorrow, this life. Crowding isn’t necessary. And scheduling less leaves openness for situations and people that pop up unexpectedly.

Too often I’ve shaded in the emptiness that should be left blank. Reserving room for the unexpected requires being less ambitious in a sense, which (for me, anyway) grows contentment.

Thank you for the snow line cutting across the Sandias.

Thank you for mental recaps of the prior day on waking, along with intentions for the day ahead.

Thank you for how it feels to squish down the crusty bread of a huge sandwich so it’s thin enough to manage a satisfying bite. Veggie Dagwoods!

Thank you for a weird thing that happened one morning a couple weeks ago. My fingernail scraped flecks of lip goo from the rim of a drinking glass when a triangle of that glass, the size of a quarter, popped off. Despite being gentle, the right pressure, temperatures, etc., can do that.

What’s funny is that in the hours prior I’d felt seriously destructive. I literally wanted to cut myself or break something and even fantasized about shattering glass.

The shard showed me my mind’s power. I may have unwittingly manifested a piece of the destruction I had yearned for.

Interacting with others while I’m in a dour mood can break things, too. Communications may unwittingly harm feelings the way my fingernail harmed the glass. I’ll do well to remember the consequences of feelings (unconscious and otherwise) as a call to recognize them, embrace them, look into them, and find insights that transform.

Thank you for new realizations after applying lessons (mostly Buddhist) on anger to that recent rage. I’d been using mindfulness as a tool to rid myself of difficult emotions rather than to gain comfort in their presence. My mind was tricking me. The truth is, when mindfulness strategies haven’t “worked”—when anger has outlived my patience for it—I grew enraged. But mindfulness isn’t there to eradicate anger. It’s there to remember that anger is present; we can’t exactly eradicate it. 

That’s the key distinction I overlooked or forgot. The goal is not to cast off negative emotions but simply to embrace them. Surrounding anger with the energy of awareness will not make it vanish. Instead, at some point (we don’t control when) the anger transforms into understanding, compassion, healing, love.

So acceptance must not be a ploy to extinguish anger. Thinking of it as a means to that end only cultivates frustration. 

I actually want to listen to and learn from the uncomfortable emotions, to recognize them with acceptance—over and over if necessary. Giving love and space transforms suffering. We reap insights. The entire process improves relationships.

Thank you for another snippet of Thich Nhat Hanh teaching about anger. This one struck me due to him acknowledging he’s had so much anger that he couldn’t sleep.

Thank you for RP’s perspectives, like this one: “A house is a living thing. It should be a creative thing and a part of your heart.” 

Thank you for added time to plan the house.

Thank you for sanctuaries.

Thank you for love, memories, and sharing that make houses feel like homes.

Thank you for acceptance <3