Thank you for a walk at dusk with R and A. 

Thank you for healthy green babies.

Thank you for BO inspiring me to volunteer again.

Thank you for a warm and friendly 83rd birthday party (not mine). Thank you for all the neighbors who brought it to be.

Thank you for intentions set for the day ahead before climbing out of bed. Here are some: to be compassionate, to listen to others mindfully, to take time, to be productive, to be courageous. 

Thank you for awareness of the impact of words and phrasing. For instance, the wish to be fearless is followed by awareness that “fearless” includes both “fear” and “less.” Awareness of those words’ impact leads to a reframing: I choose to focus on being courageous instead. Here is another example from workouts: to keep going, I may repeat, “Don’t stop,” which includes both “don’t” and “stop.” Since those words are counter to my aims of encouragement, I reframe and tell myself, “Keep going.” 

Thank you for the notion of mindful consumption of thoughts—that we are consumers of our very own thoughts. If, say, the words of encouragement or simple narratives we repeat to ourselves are unintentionally, arbitrarily framed in less than positive terms, we can intentionally rephrase our thoughts with new wording that promotes hope and encouragement.

Thank you for the immense treasure of beautiful, colorful, clever, poetic, romantic, funny, sad, happy songs introduced to me over the past year and a half.

Thank you for how that music enlivens my days and deepens my emotions.

Thank you for friends with diverse beliefs and attitudes, and for greater acceptance. Thank you for the insight that our commonalities, what unites us, matter more than our differences. We have loved ones. We have all felt vulnerable and will feel that way again. We face illness, aging, death. We need clean air and water, nourishment, shelter, companionship. We feel fears and enjoy pleasures. Something about the natural world resonates with something inside each of us. We thrive when cared for. Basic aspects of the human experience may be the most meaningful bits of life, and they’re shared across humanity.

Thank you (again) for purposeful times of rest. Thank you for rest making active time more productive.

Thank you for the moon showing up outside the front door early one morning after a dream that it had fallen from the sky into darkness.

Thank you for white owls.

Thank you for trusted doctors who care for patients with covid and other ailments.

Thank you for eye contact.

Thank you for gentle transitions, like from sleep to waking.

Thank you for genuinely, wholeheartedly loved friends and family. 

Thank you for how we improve at what we focus our time and efforts on. So when we focus on being more caring, compassionate, and loving, then we become stronger in those areas.

Thank you for a clean toilet and house.

Thank you for opportunities to learn. They are always available.

Thank you (again) for the alchemy of compost.

Thank you for days of twos (02-20-22 and 02-22-22).

Thank you for safe, fun, challenging, breathtaking bike rides. Thank you for the playlists that put them over the top. Thank you for the much-loved person in the background.

Thank you for wine cravings that aren’t indulged.

Thank you for the safety and wellbeing of the community.

Thank you for a (slightly caffeine-fueled) feeling of warmth toward pretty much every living thing.

Thank you for the coyote on Mulholland who greeted me on a Sunday morning ride.

Thank you for garlicky fingers.

Thank you for pasta with tomatoes and garlic for dinner.

Thank you for the distant memory of an ex-bf calling me Garleeka. He was making fun of my stink from too much bruschetta. In hindsight it’s funny. Thank you for nicer nicknames from future BF.

Thank you for lasting love, transformative hope, mutual forgiveness, exceptional mediocrity, and hard work.

Thank you for real life.

Thank you for snowball effects of inspiration. Thank you for positive feedback loops, when we treat each other well and our healing multiplies.

Thank you for the determination to say and do embarrassing things, repeatedly. That way I reclaim freedom.

Thank you for togetherness.

Thank you for what is worth waiting for.

Thank you for wellness and healing. 

Thank you for happy faces :D

Thank you for the nuns and monks at Plum Village. 

Thank you for our (Peaches and my) hawk friend. (I think we’re friends now but not sure.)

Thank you for garlic and onions.

Thank you for Peaches letting me trim her fur mats in sensitive areas.

Thank you for restful nights.

Thank you for when the thing I put off doing (paperwork) ended up easier than anticipated.

Thank you for the actions we take not for people to know we’ve taken them but instead because something inside us thinks they’re worthwhile.

Thank you for safe, clean, scenic, publicly maintained roads and paths for actively enjoying nature.

Thank you for simple folks.

Thank you for friends.

Thank you for trees.

Thank you for tree people growing their reach.

Thank you for in-person meditation retreats starting back up.

Thank you for B being cared for and accepting care graciously. Thank you for everyone who is surrounding her with love.

Thank you for supportive, friendly communities.

Thank you for Abby and Donegal.

Thank you for slightly greater awareness of attachments and for less discomfort letting go.

Thank you for emptiness, signlessness, and aimlessness—even if I don’t fully get them.

Thank you for clean teeth.

Thank you for the color of dragon fruit.

Thank you for bobcats and Bob dogs.

Thank you for more EVs and hopefully fewer combustion engines, less driving, and fewer cars overall.

Thank you for the possibility of a cleaner future.

Thank you for G and N enjoying their EV.

Thank you for enjoyment of silence, or maybe rather than complete silence, peace.

Thank you for when I’m calm enough to notice the peace around me.

Thank you for that one stretch on Mulholland that’s mournfully peaceful.

Thank you for a life (mine) to manage.

Thank you for chores feeling happier when I realize what a privilege it is to run a household.

Thank you for blossoms buzzing with bees. One bush down the hill had hundreds of them!

Thank you for reasonable prices on pasta, beans, cabbage, sweet potatoes, and so on.

Thank you for understanding that dissolves negativity into lovingkindness.

Thank you for cupcakes on the counter and frosting in the fridge.

Thank you for Peaches kiss-licking the palm of my hand when I brush her in the mornings. 

Thank you for moon-gazing with her.

Thank you for our routines.

Thank you for the man in the moon.

Thank you for the reason I fell in love with succulents.

Thank you for patience.

Thank you for courage to love.

Thank you for imperfect lives sprinkled with joy.

Thank you for days of rain.

Thank you for days of rain ending.

Thank you for roaring waterfalls.

Thank you for Peaches washing my hand.

Thank you for writing with paper and pencil.

Thank you for others sharing their routines to inspire healthy habits.

Thank you for couples in love who inspire hope.

Thank you for language being a code.

Thank you for helmets.

Thank you for time to meditate.

Thank you for Peaches cuddling up next to me.

Thank you for Paul Hawken’s recent work (Regeneration). Maybe I already mentioned it. There are lots of repeats here, but there’s lots of stuff I feel grateful for repeatedly. So it’s ok.

Thank you for Matthew Walker educating the public on sleep. He shares how adequate, quality sleep is crucial for psychological and physical well being. Thank you for how his talk on the RRP is inspiring me to sleep better (quality and quantity). Also it gave me a deeper appreciation for the magic of sleep and dreams. (I’m a sleep deprived WIP while writing this, ironically.)

Thank you for thriving forests.

Thank you for when we see past ourselves.

Thank you for our care and compassion for other beings and how that is part of our care and compassion for ourselves.

Thank you for cancel culture losing popularity. To cancel it would be to perpetuate it, so that won’t work. I guess it helps to gently encourage compassionate alternatives, and to model those alternatives through forgiveness, acceptance, and nurturing in one’s own life (attitudes, speech, behavior).

Thank you for circularity and closed loops.

Thank you for food to eat.

Thank you for frogs outside. I’m so happy to hear you. 

Thank you for ferns.

Thank you for a loving home, even if it’s just Peaches and plants and me.

Thank you for clean air.

Thank you for morning walk-jogs and chats with power couple C & J. Thank you for J sharing that he was at our lot after it burned (before we met). He liked or needed to stand on the fresh rubble to help process the tragedy that pervaded our community. As an HSP, he also said that he could feel what the people who had lived in those spots felt. Standing on our rubble, he told me there was a sense of sadness coming from older people. I wondered about that comment. I had always assumed that my dad is in a better place where suffering just doesn’t happen—that he’s beyond worldly concerns. J’s comment led me to question. If my dad and his family—lost aunts and uncles and grandparents, etc.—have insight into our suffering here on earth, do they then feel pain, too? Does my hurt cause my father’s spirit to grieve? The possibility of him feeling my pain has been a strong motivator to happiness. If I work through worries, if I cultivate a positive, joyous attitude, maybe the spirits of my dad and his family will feel heartened along with me.

Thank you for the kind, interesting, inspiring friends made since moving back home and for reconnections with old neighbors. They flooded me with unexpected care. They are how I strive to be.

Thank you for how easy it has felt to meet neighbors since moving back to Cornell. Is the community more welcoming after the fire? Am I less shy? Am I less of an a-hole? (Hopefully.) Is this the most genuinely, comfortably social I’ve ever been? Maybe so. Is it a jump to conclude that the feelings of comfort and kinship mean that this town is “home”?

Thank you for questions.

Thank you for a cold orange to start a big breakfast.

Thank you for when I will have a stable residence and can focus more energy on other causes.

Thank you for the little bird balancing toward the tip of a thin reed at Seminole where the lake once stood. The little guy bounced up and down like a diver on a board before pushing up to the sky. It made me happy for some reason.

Thank you for when I notice an uncomfortable thought or feeling fused with a reflex to escape the discomfort. (Sometimes the push to escape manifests in an urge to play with my phone.) When I notice those feelings of discomfort that nudge me to avoidance, I can pause just long enough to call them out: I feel discomfort and am drawn to escape it.

Thank you for the opportunity to connect with an extraordinary woman-and-daughter pair living in an RV up in the mountains on their “burnout lot.” They felt like family, like when you’re on someone’s side and want them to thrive.

Thank you for hugs despite the pandemic.

Thank you for Hero the bloodhound. Thank you for healing music. Thank you for dreamers who risk it all to try a new life, and who find abundance and peace. Thank you for the gratitude that inspires giving back.

Thank you for brown leaves for the compost from N down the hill.

Thank you for B’s surgery and recovery going well.

Thank you for L’s job opportunity out of state and the adventure it promises.

Thank you for M and K recovering.

Thank you for the succulent cuttings from K that are growing roots. (I adore you, Ric Rac!) 

Thank you for the ones we love staying in our hearts despite their (sometimes difficult to understand) prolonged absence. 

Thank you for future reunions with former friends.

Thank you for our courage to face fears—of failure, success, change, love… 

Thank you for earlier bedtimes, less screen time, more bike and jog and yoga, stronger faith, a happier outlook.

Thank you for interconnected life, so that my health and wellness benefit you, and vice versa. Please be well!

Thank you for the RRP with Anna Lembke on addiction, especially minutes 26-30 when she talks about dopamine deficit states, and minutes 51-54-ish where they discuss the difference between acute and protracted withdrawal. Protracted withdrawal, which is more psychological, can go on for months and years and includes irritability, anxiety, depression, insomnia, etc. 

There are always circumstances I can point to as depressing. And there are also circumstances I can point to as uplifting. They say it’s our (malleable) perspective on all the concrete stuff, “good” and “bad,” that determines how we consequently feel. But sometimes how we feel, influenced by addictions and withdrawal, works in reverse to color our perspectives on the more concrete life circumstances. It’s important to look for this effect and be aware when it happens.

Realizing that both moods and perspectives can be influenced by withdrawal from substances and other so-called “addictions” has motivated me to be less addicted, sidestepping the need for will power. Instead of willpower there is power in awareness of what happens when I get hooked on something and how unsustainable, even long-term defeating, the momentary pleasure or relief is. The pull to escape pain and pursue feeling good may be there every day but doesn’t completely rule me, at least not all the time. I’m grateful for that.

Do I constantly feel tempted to do what will be less than healthy in the long term? Yes. Do I indulge the more obviously dangerous cravings? No. My biggest addictions lately involve screen time. Thankfully, will power is not something that ever worked for me, so part of me knows it’s futile to try that. Mindfulness in conjunction with education and released from anxiety is especially effective. Sometimes this can be as simple as taking a few seconds to think through the long-term consequences of indulging an impulse. (It helps me to see that I may feel temporary relief but will be even more down the following day or two.) Or it can be stopping to realize that I do have a choice when it feels like I don’t. Little stuff like that helps with my anxiety and addictive impulses.

Thank you for patience gained from cleaning up after a gnarly toilet mishap.

Thank you for the sound of rain. It’s beautiful. It thrills me. It scares me. It reminds me of the more extreme weather we are causing. It touches my heart. It takes me back to my dad’s last days. We had so much rain then. He would wake up on occasion and point to the window. It was his way of asking, “Is there water out there?” So we’d shake or nod our heads to let him know. When he was well, if a storm came, he always wanted to make sure the drains on the roof weren’t clogged. He’d check for leaks and such. That’s who he was. He didn’t seem to know any other way to be than to look after the house and us.

Thank you for a new way to make lists and keep myself accountable. Recently I switched away from the weekly self-care chart, where for each day of the week I’d cross off as many self-care cells as possible: yoga, walking/biking/jogging, reading, writing, meditating, studying French. Those were baseline activities I felt needed to happen on a pretty regular basis to keep me somewhat healthy (in addition to nurturing relationships, searching for a permanent residence, daily living tasks, finding a passion.)… But you know what? Crossing items off a list is not so rewarding anymore. It even leaves me feeling defeated. So instead of making a chart with boxes that get X-ed out every day, I’m writing in what I do as if each activity is an accomplishment added to life rather than something to be checked off. This new way feels better. I almost realize a little bit here and there that daily life can be exciting. It’s a privilege to do what we do every single day. Hopefully, without ignoring the huge existential challenges humanity faces, excitement for life will build in me this year (which will better equip me to deal with those huge challenges). 

Thank you for New Year’s resolutions. Here are some thoughts:

• Think of yearly, monthly, or long term, rather than daily goals.

• Instead of crossing off to-do’s, add up accomplishments. (Make it additive rather than subtractive?)

• Find healthy replacements for screen time, especially for music app (which may have been feeding delusions or at least expectations, and was damaging to my mental health), game apps, and YouTube.

• Be more giving. (It will help to be specific.)

• Achieve greater stability. (It will help to be specific.)

• Organize and re-think blog. (Ditto.)

Thank you for a listen to Ryan Holiday today on RRP (without that one app, I listen to the RRP more). He was talking about the value of sitting quietly with your own thoughts. I think doing that is really difficult and important. Like last night, I wanted to veg out with sudoku or thrift shop online until my eyes couldn’t stay open. Instead, I lay in bed quietly in the dark. I let feelings of sadness and abandonment bleed into my awareness. I felt the hurt that was already eating up my insides. It was there before, but sitting quietly allowed it to seep through. That’s how I fell asleep, in emotional distress. Waking up this morning was hardly better. The rain was torrential and my insides stormed to match. But the rest of the day has been calm, content, and strong. The painful moments took me back to November 2017 when I felt sort of brokenhearted. One day I floated in the ocean and did nothing but rest there feeing sadness. It really helped. So, yes, Ryan Holiday, I agree with you. Sitting quietly is not for the weak. Feeling the pain of life is not easy. If you choose that path, it will do good for your heart and mind. Ironically, feeling the misery has given me deeper, more genuine contentment. Like right now, I appreciate life and have love in my heart.

Thank you for all of the kindness you have shown in big and small ways, which is more than you probably realize. Merry Christmas <3

Thank you for rain.

Thank you for cozy blankets.

Thank you for simple living.

Thank you for adjusted (down) expectations for myself lately, accepting rather than pushing.

Thank you for a cinnamon and spice muffin scented house.

Thank you for the gift and practice of seeing good in life despite feeling low. Even amid tragedies goodness shines. Love is always here.

Thank you for the warmth that emanates from love stories.

Thank you for unexpected road blocks, literally, that rearrange plans. Earlier this week my car being locked inside the road closure resulted in a peaceful night.

Thank you for a beautiful dog friend (Lady Peach). Being with her reinforces my faith in lasting love. Years after we met, coming home to her is still exciting. Hopefully she’s happy with me, too.

Thank you for bugs. 

Thank you, again, for all the repeat thank yous and sorry for the redundancy.

Thank you for dirt. 

Thank you for noisy birds. 

Thank you for ric rac cactus. You overflow my being with emotion.

Thank you for the dream of more nursery outings.

Thank you for how happy it felt to be social and active outdoors today. 

Thank you for bike rides.

Thank you for crisp sunny fall skies.

Thank you for walking down the hill with Peaches this afternoon, meeting new neighbors and greeting a familiar one. 

Thank you for interesting, kind, warm people. They are all around us!

Thank you for K and M. Thank you for their gift of plants. Succulents! Hopefully our green babies thrive.

Thank you for faith.

Thank you for a successful Friday morning working out the water issue. Thank you for friends who offered advice.

Thank you for warm baths and clean hair and laundry hanging to dry.

Thank you for the new owner of our lot calling after escrow closed. I hope it works out well for him and his family, and for the land and the life our choices impact.

Thank you for a neighbor at Malibou Lake helping with the search for a new place to call home.

Thank you for chances to be with nature (especially with animals, human and otherwise).

Thank you for the value in smiles and eye contact.

Thank you for the value in caring gestures and words.

Thank you for the value in listening. With the holidays, it feels like I’ve come slightly more unraveled and would benefit from deep listening.

Thank you for brilliant WUI moonlight.

Thank you for the love you give. Thank you for the love we feel and exchange. May it multiply and spread! <3

Thank you for all the repeat thank yous, like wabi sabi.

Thank you for problems revealing depth and beauty. 

Thank you for Elaine Aron introducing the notion of HSP to further our understanding of selves and others.

Thank you for photosynthesis. 

Thank you for a home surrounded by nature. Opening the front door is an awesome experience.

Thank you for fog clearing.

Thank you for accidental encounters of other vegans.

Thank you for the expressiveness of doggy eyes.

Thank you for crooked teeth (like Peaches’ snaggle).

Thank you for adversity giving the opportunity to practice gratitude, kindness, and calm along with that elusive balance of tenacity and surrender.

Thank you for love that gives space with faith in the outcome, whatever it may be.

Thank you for houses on lakes.

Thank you for when I pay attention to messages from my unconscious mind. The past couple weeks I’ve been accidentally bumping my head hard enough to leave lumps. Then I cycled up and down the snake with the quick release on my front wheel unknowingly open and very loose. It’s the first time that has happened. Usually I do an ABCQ check before each ride (air, brakes, chain, quick release). Along with the risky, bumpy times, a voice in a dream warned, “You’re not on the right path. You know what the right path is.” It’s like when I accidentally cut the little piece off my finger. My conscious mind had been spinning out of control with worry, obsessing over mysteries and the future. So the unconscious mind, to save my psyche from the further damage that worrying would cause, chose to hurt my body. It did so either as a wake up call or just to give my mind a healthier subject to focus on. (Bodily injury is perhaps a healthier focus than is spinning wheels brooding about mysteries beyond one’s control.) It’s still worrisome, the possibility of accidentally hurting myself. Hopefully I am respecting my mind so that it doesn’t resort to drastic measures. 

Thank you for when I am able to give space. In some cases presence doesn’t mean love, and absence doesn’t mean hate. It’s the opposite. The most compassionate way to treat loved ones may be to give room and time for them to gain clarity, stability, calm, etc., free from pressure.

Thank you for tart cranberry orange smoothies with vanilla.

Thank you for beans on the pot.

Thank you for plant parents.

Thank you for LF reaching out after a long absence. Thank you for her ability to cope and thrive despite hardship. Thank you for her caring, genuine attitude.

Thank you for peaceful Sunday feelings.

Thank you for the importance of rest for productivity.

Thank you for highly anticipated bedtimes.

Thank you for all of us who are realizing it’s time to replace judgments and anger and shaming with acceptance, forgiveness, and love of one another and selves.

Thank you for still being here. I appreciate you! Be well <3

Thank you for hardware.

Thank you for henna hair dye that is safe to wash down the drain and healthy for hair.

Thank you for intuition that strengthens with practice.

Thank you for our relationships with our inner selves. My inner self may benefit given more respect from her outer self.

Thank you for natural scents.

Thank you for thredup. That’s where I found the vest and jacket that the alter-me wore in my dream. She was walking tall in the woods alongside her partner near their house filled with treasures, out of harm’s way. 

Thank you for beloved neighbors’ gifts of persimmons and pomegranates. 

Thank you for the luxury to wake up slow and cuddle until Peaches is ready to get up.

Thank you for best friends.

Thank you for my belief in your and my healing.

Thank you for fresh thoughts on jogs. This morning I thought about self esteem. It’s not a fully baked thought but here you go. Zero sum investment gains do not build genuine self esteem, and such investment losses do not reflect lack of self worth. 

What I mean is that if I invest in some aspect of me compared to others, and come to see myself as having more of it or higher quality (and others thus as having less of it or lower quality), then any boost I get from the comparison is not adding to my genuine self worth. On the flip side, if I look at what others have or do as being more or better than me, the perceived lack in me is only illusory. 

Why? It sounds mushy or weird but this is how I feel. It’s because true self worth, and hence how we accurately esteem ourselves, comes from an inherent value within us all, in equal (i.e., infinite) measure. It’s only when we see ourselves on the level with everyone else that our self esteem matches reality. It’s only when we see our individual uniqueness on par with the uniqueness of each living being that we get it. And when we do that, we will not feel need to compare our relative worths from the outside—in terms of milestones we’ve reached at each decade of our life, or how far or fast we can run or cycle or swim relative to others, or where we live, or what our kids or partners accomplish, or how much money we earn, or our job titles or academic degrees, or our height or weight or house or car. Those comparisons may have some purpose but that purpose is not to delineate our value nor distinguish it from the value of another. 

On the contrary, the good that I see in myself, if it’s genuine, is inside you, too. My good reflects yours, and vice versa. They never compete. Our worths are interdependent because we are not disconnected. We are one.

The meaningful piece of that oneness may hide within. We all share built-in magic at our cores as long as we are alive. Each of us is an equally incomparable little particle of light, each occupying its own space in time, equally capable to shine love and worthy to receive it. That’s what makes us both invaluable and inseparable. We’re made of the same stuff and need each other to make meaning, to move from being a single dot to a full ray. When we grasp our equality—that we are as miraculous, no more and no less, than everyone else—that all of us are treasures—then our self esteem realizes it cannot be earned or demonstrated through performance metrics that single us out. It comes from an inner, unshakeable place of unity. There is no competition! Everyone is a winner.

Thank you for lights left on for loved ones.

Thank you for the cricket chirping outside my window.

Thank you for critters in the WUI.

Thank you for new leaves.

Thank you for optimism and relief from anxiety after a post-game discussion with K and M. They helped me to feel like there is no hurry to find a long-term landing spot for the house, and everything will be alright. 

Thank you for when I am able to give back, even in small ways, to friends who give me so much.

Thank you for numbers ending in 035.

Thank you for the happiness we exchange through friendships.

Thank you for community.

Thank you for sensitive men.

Thank you for sensitive women.

Thank you for sensitive couples.

Thank you for cold face washes in the mornings.

Thank you for walks up the hill.

Thank you for coziness.

Thank you for my brain starting to feel less chaotic and more calm.

Thank you for a couple recent jogs to the view site and back with new running shoes and happy music.

Thank you for canned pumpkin in stock meaning Peaches can enjoy her usual soup.

Thank you for my ABQ family’s upcoming visit.

Thank you for 9:30 lovingkindness meditations.

Thank you for lion hearts.

Thank you for chocolate chips.

Thank you for the possibility to move nearby. It’s just a possibility, but it brings happiness to consider.

Thank you for kabocha coconut curry.

Thank you for plants at the local hardware store.

Thank you for smiles that make comebacks. Quite a bit ago, it felt like my smile had abandoned me. Pictures showed me stretching the sides of my mouth to mimic the shape of a smile. The contrived expression barely masked one of genuine pain. I worried back then that effortful (i.e., fake) smiles were a permanent effect of growing older. Thankfully they were not. Now crinkly-eyed, tooth-filled, cheeky grins bust out every day. If you seem to have lost your smile, please rest assured. It may just be temporary!

Thank you for the notary, Kimberly, who came for my signature on the grant deed. We talked about the power of positive thinking. I love meaningful conversations with strangers. Seeing the tiny house on the burnout lot I think opens folks up to feel freer with me, I’m not sure. But the house and the lot, the fire’s devastation, etc., are great conversation starters. It reinforces that so many of us are concerned about what is happening in our world and interested in living a new way.

Thank you for a peaceful feeling. I wish it on you!

Thank you for watching happy people enjoy fluffy cinnamon rolls.

Thank you for pickleball fun with admired friends.

Thank you for a visit to the Calabasas One-Stop Center that did not leave me despondent—at least not for long.

Thank you for a friendly chat with a frustrated realtor.

Thank you for journals that record inner life.

Thank you for so much help from friends and family who care, advising on options, offering to talk with realtors, asking around to see if anyone has land to rent. I feel loved and hope they feel loved, too.

Thank you for my phone’s voicemail transcribing “Vitalant blood services” as “my town but services.” 

Thank you for a friendly visit and laughs with C & J, and more smoothie ideas.

Thank you for Peaches playing with her stuffed sheep.

Thank you for the presence to write down another dream.

Thank you for DJs who know how to shift listeners’ moods so they feel good.

Thank you for infinite ways to say, “I love you.”

Thank you for our dreams coming true when we step toward them.

Thank you for another safe bike ride.

Thank you for Peach songs.

Thank you for Malibou Lake.

Thank you for I love you anyhow.

Thank you for a cuddly pooch.

Thank you for sobriety being like the quiet person folks may assume is not too bright or interesting. I think she seems boring because she’s low drama. 

Thank you for how easy it is to fall asleep.

Thank you for the extraordinary insight and kindness of “ordinary” people all around.

Thank you for miracles everywhere. You are a miracle, too.

Thank you for intense or interesting dreams on rainy nights. Is it because of the weather or because the weather interrupts sleep at odd hours, unearthing dreams that otherwise would stay buried?

Thank you for the extra effort paid to my dreams for a little while. Recording dreams does show recurring aspects and maybe even growth over time.

Thank you for better moods for a stretch due to the milder weather.

Thank you for a funny tomato tune.

Thank you for growing freedom.

Thank you for awareness of responsibility.

Thank you for the amazing scent outside after the day of rain. Eucalyptus. Like smelling God! 

Thank you for the privilege to rest when feeling unwell.

Thank you for a comfy bed.

Thank you for wildlife under a full moon in the WUI.

Thank you for a three-day migraine ending.

Thank you for kindness and love. Thank you for when those qualities in us transform the qualities that are incompatible with them.

Thank you for hope, faith, love to realize that hurtful words or behavior reflect the offender’s own hurts and insecurities rather than the offender herself. She is worthy of love and kindness.

Thank you for hope, faith, love to let go and leave space for healing.

Thank you for un-dinner dinners, like berry oatmeal, noochy popcorn, and mint chocolate chip smoothies.

Thank you for how rough my skin feels when rubbed against the scarred pad of my right index finger. It reminds me of that saying, “Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.” Instead this might be, “softness is in the fingers of the feeler?” IDK. Sorry.

Thank you for time and prayers for healing and wellness.

Thank you for when I mess up and apologize afterward (like today). Even when I don’t mess up, sometimes there is uncalled-for apologizing. Other times an apology is totally called for (whether I mess up or not).  It may take away a little hurt and leave less bitterness toward humanity.

Thank you for hope that we will learn to show and feel not so much hate toward each other, but more love and forgiveness. Hopefully we will be more sensitive to how other people actually feel as a result of our harsh words and actions, our hasty attitudes. We all are human, we all make mistakes and face challenges, and no two people will agree on every little issue. It’s ok, we’re worthy of love. I don’t care if I say the same thing over and over, if it’s true. I’m so tired.

Thank you for my loving feelings for you.

Thank you for perfect bike ride weather this morning. Thank you for the neighbors who waved and said hello.

Thank you for songs about holding hands.

Thank you for movie night with the ladies. We watched Fantastic Fungi on the recommendation of another friend. Now becoming a mushroom farmer seems like the thing to do.

Thank you for splashes in the tub.

Thank you for ready made vegan meals when you aren’t up for preparing anything.

Thank you for that lion-hearted magic.

Thank you for my heart bubbling over now and again.

Thank you for your heart bubbling over. I only assume that it must happen. If not, may your heart overflow with love, over and over again.

Thank you for the change in this little community since the fire. I was talking about it with my sister, how it’s so friendly and warm here. She said that’s what New York was like after 9/11. Everybody started to talking to each other and helping one another. I don’t believe it’s that we become more of a community after tragedies. I think maybe (aside from us needing each other) it is that we realize what was always the case—we are a community. We are connected. Waking up to the realization allows us to be active in it. 

Thank you for friends from work at UCLA.

Thank you for beautiful mountain views every single day.

Thank you for fresh air.

Thank you for contributing to this site almost daily. Since I’ve been doing it, logging in doesn’t give as much anxiety. It is not easy but does seem healthy.

Thank you for waking dreams.

Thank you for waves.

Thank you for excitement.

Thank you for a happy Sunday. Wishing you many more happy Sundays, enjoyed with loved ones <3

Thank you for tahini dressings.

Thank you for when my eyes opened while meditating to meet Peaches’ look of love. 

Thank you for a morning chat with the ladies by the clubhouse. 

Thank you for books on hold at the library. The first one ready is Cat’s Cradle. I don’t know much about it but enjoyed one of Vonnegut’s books long ago. 

Thank you for library networks that make so many books accessible.

Thank you for the inspiration found in reads. Books can be like firework shows for the brain. They fill you with wonder and leave you in awe.

Thank you for trust, which seems to require communication and vulnerability. I am not sure how trust will take root without a leap (of faith?) closer toward the person or thing to be trusted. (I mean, how can it take root from a safe distance?)

Thank you for when we try to be there for others through difficult times, even when we do so awkwardly and imperfectly.

Thank you for a good workout Monday. I was sore for two days.

Thank you for when being boring doesn’t seem dull.

Thank you for contact with friends that reveals how diverse the world is and opens you to accept differences. It also raises appreciation for the gift of compatibility: you are less inclined to take for granted shared interests and values.

Thank you for new leaves on Jedidiah.

Thank you for a sewing kit to repair Peaches’ pillow.

Thank you for new friends.

Thank you for silent friends who are deeply loved regardless of what they do or don’t say.

Thank you for friends who remain friends with no physical involvement.

Thank you for friends of different ages, colors, backgrounds, cultures, sexes, beliefs, orientations, etc. They water my kindness, awareness, and interest. They feed happiness—if my social circle were restricted to women just like me, life might be solitary. Respectful connections also mold me into a more capable partner.

Thank you for us being more forgiving and accepting.

Thank you for more of us taking action to reduce our carbon footprints.

Thank you for confidence and calm to feel that life isn’t forcing me to be any certain way.  Thank you for when there is time to research and take conscious action. Thank you for when there is power to consider options, space to weigh decisions, experience to make deliberate steps. 

Thank you for intentional living (not that this is my way but it is a healthy way that I strive for).

Thank you for efforts to live with intention.

Thank you for life flowing on. If it isn’t how we would choose, sometimes its meaning and beauty are enhanced by accepting how it is.

Thank you for vacations that are not escapes but are rests or adventures.

Thank you for people who choose zero emissions vehicles, like my neighbor who is leasing a Bolt even though they were recalled because the batteries may catch fire, or something like that.

Thank you for how fun it is to practice speaking French.

Thank you for sun salutations.

Thank you for window coverings soon, after months in a sort of fishbowl. 

Thank you for simple lives.

Thank you for drama free relationships.

Thank you for Bob down the hill who loves to bark at Peaches. Thank you for his big wrinkly blue head and stubby wagging tail. Thank you for how he always stays behind the short gate to his yard, even though he could easily hop over it. Thank you for how everyone can see the choice Bob doesn’t make. It’s something to talk about when walking alongside neighbors down the hill past Gary’s small fence and large dog.

Thank you for typos that form new nonsense words.

Thank you for bedtime.

Thank you for the care that we give ourselves.

Thank you for the DJ of my dreams.

Thank you for good nights and happy weekends.

Thank you for health. I wish the best of it on you!

Thank you for when friends come easily. Thank you for text messages and phone calls and invites and chats. Thank you for common interests. Thank you for comfort around others. Thank you for love for them. Thank you for looking back to see how far I’ve come by working on the insides and not worrying so much about outsides, not forcing life. It has more meaning now. Connecting with people is fulfilling.

Thank you for when I don’t try to force myself to change and end up changing (growing) naturally. That’s what has happened with my shyness. It’s still there but much better.

Thank you for shyness and introversion being compatible with loving others. Thank you for work-arounds that compensate for shortcomings. One of the reasons I’ve loved living in dense areas (like Manhattan and Westwood) is that it’s impossible not to connect with people in urban areas, not matter how shy you are or how much of a homebody. That’s also a great thing about life in Cornell. Running into neighbors is inevitable. All you have to do is spend some time walking outside. So there’s less effort to make friends. And that automatic interaction is a real plus for shut-ins who happen not to be misanthropes.

Thank you for the Golden Girls theme song and for hearts full of love. Thank you for a tiny kernel of confidence that everything is alright no matter what. Thank you for special friends. Thank you for the feeling that we are not alone. Thank you for healing. Thank you for our interconnected world.  

Thank you for when we let go of punishing others for not doing or being how we expect, and instead accept and appreciate them as they are.

Thank you for dogs barking in their sleep.

Thank you for my budding sudoku addiction. It’s a guilty pleasure. It won’t always be there.

Thank you for The Breaks and other cute funnies. Thank you for virtual warm blankets.

Thank you for hugs.

Thank you for a feeling of safety. Everything will be ok, regardless…

Thank you for our wishes for others to thrive.

Thank you for new options popping into my head.

Thank you for this Sunday.

Thank you for bike rides, yoga on the beach, and farmer’s market visits.

Thank you for healthy boobs.

Thank you for the inspirational stories of late bloomers.

Thank you for prayer plants. 

Thank you for a clean toilet and house.

Thank you for succumbing to sleepiness, and wishing you restful sleep and refreshed mornings.

Thank you for fasts.

Thank you for tangerine juice mixed with tart cherry juice and sparkling water.

Thank you for cool weather in the forecast.

Thank you for time to read.

Thank you for a comfy living space.

Thank you for chats with Sri Hari, how they keep me focused on a more inward, spiritual path.

Thank you for peaceful feelings.

Thank you for lady bosses with employees who enjoy working for them.

Thank you for new thoughts that came with the end of a horrible mood.

Thank you for recorded dreams to re-read and re-analyze.

Thank you for when I have patience to let Peaches take her time on walks.

Thank you for long distance drives that go smoothly (no accidents, etc.), even if they’re just into the city.

Thank you for an overcast, cool day that reminds me of the weather here growing up.

Thank you for the gentle sounds of the ceiling fan.

Thank you for awareness that it’s inaccurate to call myself weird. I’m just me.

Thank you for a few mornings ago when Peaches let me wrap both arms around her and cuddle her like the world was ending.

Thank you for the salty sweet creamy frosting on Veggie Grill carrot cake.

Thank you for Peaches feeling better. (She started to be unwell a few hours after nabbing a mystery treat from the ground outside.) Thank you for the urgent care vet in TO and the doctor and techs who helped her.

Thank you for confidence that I’'ll feel better again, too.

Thank you for when the clear blue cloudless sky transforms into a twinkling inky expanse. 

Thank you for the variety of succulents that look science fiction but are real.

Thank you for fall weather.

Thank you for a new lady friend suggesting we play pickleball. Thank you for memories of another dear friend who shares this pickleball player’s name. 

Thank you for home popped popcorn. 

Thank you for bandages.

Thank you for love songs and love letters.

Thank you for growing kindness.

Thank you for plant dreams.

Thank you for the first time using the oven. A kabocha baked in there. It may become taquitos, or dog food, or a simple snack. (And it’s good that the oven wasn’t used before today, because it does warm the whole house!)

Thank you for the kabocha whistling when it’s oven time ended.

Thank you for the most incredible rainbow yesterday morning. It was like the sky’s happy hangover after a night of lightning, thunder, and rain. 

Thank you for two gal pals both trying to help me find love. Just knowing that they care and think of me as suitable for that sort of thing touches me, even if I’m still only ready to find friends.

Thank you for the Rich Roll Podcasts again. Thank you for how much learning and inspiration he offers so many people.

Thank you for sweet and loving friends.

Thank you for the extraordinary community here. I don’t want to leave. Morning walks and talking with neighbors feels whole. Wherever I live, I would like to be part of a community.

Thank you for the mobile home park even considering my request to move the tiny there. They haven’t said yes or no yet, and there are no affordable lots for sale at the moment. But I’m hopeful. If they refuse, there are still multiple options to explore. 

Thank you for organizations that help those in need. Thank you for the folks who start, run, staff, and support those orgs.

Thank you for crickets chirping outside the window.

Thank you for birds drinking the dew off my car this am.

Thank you for visions of togetherness.

Thank you for healing meditations.

Thank you for patience.

Thank you for 1 Corinthians 13.

Thank you for true love.

Thank you for videos like the one above that help me regain some stability when it feels like I’m coming unhinged.

Thank you for honesty.

Thank you for a couch to relax on.

Thank you for everyone who made it possible for me to have a space that is slowly becoming more comfortable and homey (my dad, mom, sister, Elyse, JP, their team, people who make appliances and flooring and windows, people who grow trees for wood, truck drivers, sales associates, LA County workers in the field and behind desks, electricians and contractors and landscapers, hardware store stockers, handymen, owners of independent furniture companies and their employees, storage unit people, truck rental people, the water company. I should go on but my head is hurting.)

Thank you for how easy it is to order books from the library. The one I just turned in is 1Q84. Not my favorite Murakami novel due to so much violence and violent sex, but still interesting and thought provoking. The main characters I loved, especially Aomame. She and I can be happy alone for similar reasons.

Thank you for Peachy’s first smoothie today (watermelon, cherries, and water) to cool her down from the inside.

Thank you for the latest addition to our family—Chester the fern. I hope I don’t accidentally kill you, Chester.

Thank you for the book Being Mortal by Atul Gawande. I highly recommend that book, especially if you or someone you know is mortal. Another book I’m excited to read, as a mortal, is Arthur Kleinman’s Soul of Care (on caregiving for someone ill, I believe). It’s waiting for me at the library.

Thank you for comfort.

Thank you for vegan cheeseburgers.

Thank you for more friend visits soon.

Thank you for friends.

Thank you for the self esteem to realize that I don’t deserve to be put down or insulted. I don’t deserve your anger.

Thank you for the insight to realize that we teach others how to love us through our interactions with them, by letting them know things like the above.

Thank you for the awareness that those who do lash out in anger are doing so because they are suffering. I hope they find a way through, a path beyond that suffering. I hope they are able to care for their feelings. I hope the same for me because I’ve been struggling with negative emotions lately too.

Thank you for resources from the past, like a notebook full of positive affirmations, to help me with this difficult spot.

Thank you for new resources, like my first session with a therapist nearby tomorrow afternoon.

Thank you for caring enough to read this. I hope you find freedom from what troubles you, and that more and more good things come to you.

Thank you for ramen night.

Thank you for visits from friends.

Thank you for frozen watermelon slushies with lime and mint on hot days.

Thank you for when there is phone and internet here at the house. Thank you for when there isn’t, so I get a break from it.

Thank you for unlimited therapy sessions covered by insurance with a $15 co-pay, and for Elizabeth who helped me figure out how to make the first appointment today.

Thank you for the people who know me, who trust my integrity and look up to me.

Thank you for healthy options when feeling dazed, confused, delusional, etc., and unsure what to say or do. Thank you for hard work put in to be well.

Thank you for willingness to communicate and trust even when it’s risky.

Thank you for cold, clean drinking water in the fridge.

Thank you for the moonlight tonight.

Thank you for David (high school friend) and his family (wife and daughter) visiting next month around my birthday. They were nice enough to invite me with them for a day at the beach when they are in town.

Thank you for when life feels overwhelming and self-talk is there as a reminder that it isn’t always like this.

Thank you for the prospect of not having to move for a few years (we’ll see). Thank you for stability and security. Even if those are both sort of illusions in some sense, in another sense they’re sort of real.

Thank you for opportunities that take time to reveal themselves.

Thank you for Peaches’ love.

Thank you for comfy sleepwear.

Thank you for pooping on coconuts.

Thank you for quiet country nights.

Thank you for sweepy.

Thank you for chocolate.

Thank you for the neighbors in ABQ who ask about me. I miss you.

Thank you for neighbors here who make this place memorable and warm. You sustain me.

Thank you for pillows.

Thank you for goodnights. I hope you are well <3

Thank you for the thought that I need therapy because I don’t know if I am delusional, but it seems likely.

Thank you for friends who understand that my communication and interpersonal skills may be somewhat underdeveloped, but my intentions are good and I will keep trying.

Thank you for patience.

Thank you for practice sharing personal thoughts, being more open.

Thank you for new conversations with different people.

Thank you for our similarities and differences with each other.

Thank you for the instant pot, a gift from Stacey. She has given me so much (not just materially), shown love and kindness.

Thank you for lasting friendships. If it weren’t for my friends being so patient and forgiving, I wouldn’t be fortunate to know what a lasting friendship is. Thank you for their never giving up on me. I make mistakes, but I won’t give up, either. 

Thank you for those who make us better and those who are made better by us.

Thank you for Joel with LA County Public Works actually driving to the road closure, measuring the gate width, and sending pics. It’s touching when a stranger shows kindness like that. Also it’s a relief to know that the house might squeeze through that gate.

Thank you for yoga today being fun and making me feel great.

Thank you for my mouth healing, so eating and drinking aren’t painful. It may sound like I have horrible dental issues but really I don’t.

Thank you for pizza cutters.

Thank you for a thoughtful POTUS.

Thank you for the lady who took my motel reservation. She was friendly and gave a better price than online quotes. Thank you for the motel, truck, trailer, and storage lined up, and everyone who helped with them.

Thank you for prep work related to moving/house because it is a good way to overcome fears and procrastination. Also it’s a pleasure interacting socially, like today—conversations with helpful folks at LA County Public Works, LA Compost, U-Haul, and ReCover CA.

Thank you for low drama. Don’t misunderstand—arguing I love. Instead of emotionally charged, angry, or personal attacks, the best arguing is where all parties share their minds respectfully for the sake of greater understanding. Also, being overly agreeable inhibits intimacy because it blocks us from really expressing ourselves and knowing each other. Good arguing promotes expression, knowing, and thus intimacy. (I just made that up. Hopefully it’s not ridiculous.)

Thank you for hot water again and how nice it felt to have clean hair. Thank you for warm baths.

Thank you for productive days of emails and phone calls.

Thank you for the house being pretty much finished, it seems. Thank you for the luxury of dealing with trusted and respected builders, and for what a learning process it has been. Thank you for a living space that appears well suited to me. It may end up sold at some point, who knows. For now, it seems nice.

Thank you for the insight that my aesthetic preferences differ from some around me, and it doesn’t mean I have “bad taste.” Maybe I just like different things. What’s ugly, plain, or boring in certain circles may be beautiful, calming, and pleasant in others. Thank you also for aesthetic preferences that change over time.

Thank you for positive affirmations.

Thank you for persistence to make at least a tiny amount of progress each day.

Thank you for refunds and exchanges.

Thank you for realistic optimism.

Thank you again for repeated thank yous.

Thank you for uncertainty.

Thank you for pooches. Thank you for tails wagging.

Thank you for how happy my body feels after breakfast.

Thank you for a fun bike ride in perfect weather—no jacket, no puffy gloves.

Thank you for rest afterward because I overdid it.

Thank you for sore, sunburned legs and arms.

Thank you for Kayla’s chalk drawings.

Thank you for takeout and the people who make it possible.

Thank you for neighbors enjoying coffee together in the sunshine.

Thank you for my mom and sister and her Jeff all being vaccinated already, and everyone else besides them.

Thank you for moving day only one week later than originally scheduled.

Thank you for everyone I’ve met here, mostly and especially neighbors.

Thank you for daffodils.

Thank you for minimalism.

Either way, thank you for water extinguishing fire.

Thank you for a level of awareness of both my own anger and how highly contagious any anger can be.

Thank you for the elderly lady who runs up and around the arroyo with her partner following on a bike. She’s an inspiration.

Thank you for lent almost over.

Thank you for my grandma’s spirit.

Thank you for I Love Lucy playing at the dentist’s office. Little Ricky is my favorite.

Thank you for Dr. Tran wishing me well on the move.

Thank you for our dreams communicating with us.

Thank you for the Plum Village talk on forgiveness where Thich Nhat Hanh shared about the soldier in Vietnam who intentionally killed multiple innocent villagers, and they all happened to be children. The positive outcome for the soldier might anger some, but I’m grateful for the message that forgiveness is available to us all, no matter what we’ve done. That story made me a mushy snotty mess.

Thank you maybe even more for the Plum Village talk on going home to the self, connecting with the self. TNH draws such pretty circles. My eyes leaked again to hear about home and making a home for ourselves so that we can be there for others. Hopefully if you listen you will understand.

Thank you for radical spiritual leaders who go beyond the mass marketed forms of love with societally sanctioned limits (those limits give us permission to go ahead and hate on each other for this or that taboo transgression). Thank you for leaders who teach and live unlimited love and forgiveness. Thank you for the hope to become more like them with continued effort.

Thank you for the Rich Roll Podcast episode with the Sherzai doctors discussing cognitive decline, dementia, and prevention. Parts of that had me blubbering, too. 

Thank you for how quiet it is here at the condo.

Thank you for thoughtfully designed metropolitan areas.

Thank you for warm, clean shelters from heat, rain, wind, snow….

Thank you for Anita’s cookie-scone recipe.

Thank you for flashbacks.

Thank you for careful drivers.

Thank you for nursery shopping.

Thank you for living gifts to remember loved ones by.

Thank you for shared drinks.

Thank you for giving without possessiveness.

Thank you for when we help the ones we are supposed to be competing against, even if it’s in games.

Thank you for egos that don’t take themselves too seriously and aren’t all that defensive.

Thank you for easygoing comfort.

Thank you for acceptance without demands or pressure.

Thank you for viparita karani and avocado toast.

Thank you for coziness.

Thank you for presence.

Thank you for voices that are a pleasure to hear. Thank you for when words and the way they’re spoken make for enjoyable listening.

Thank you for rainbows.

Thank you for joy

Thank you for blessings.

Thank you for intimacy.

Thank you for life and laughter and love.

Thank you for yesterdays.

Thank you for today.

Thank you for tomorrow.

Thank you for spring birdsongs.

Thank you for made up words.

Thank you for quirky personalities.

Thank you for Peaches sleeping next to me. Usually she spends the night in her bed on my bed, near the foot. For some reason she got close enough for me to sneak cuddles a couple nights.

Thank you for a mood boost from wearing socks with sandals (like Jesus might, if he were here today).

Thank you for an appointment with the contractor, John, in less than four weeks to haul that gravel stuff (forgot it’s name) up to the lot. 

Thank you again for the friend who took down the for sale sign by the front gate. Not sure who did that, but it was appreciated.

Thank you for Seaspiracy coming out on Netflix soon. 

Thank you for Dr Tran making me a new nightguard that works better for sleeping.

Thank you for an extra comfy bed with soft, warm blankets.

Thank you for people here waving. They’re not just humoring me by waving back. If I don’t wave first, they usually do.

Thank you for little friendly exchanges between strangers all over the world every single day. If you added them up, they’d be enormous.

Thank you for the beloved curator behind the ten digits.

Thank you for the tidbit I learned forever ago in a social psychology class as an undergrad. Sorry if I’m messing it up: The strongest determinant of whether or not you will like someone is whether or not you think that person likes you. Awareness of that tidbit helps me to go on liking people even if I think they may not like me (because I’m not convinced that being liked is the best reason for me to like).

Thank you for yoga nidra.

Thank you for a beautiful warm sunny day.

Thank you for Ramona next door and her close knit family that supports her. Thank you for their offer to help out here after I leave.

Thank you for our neighbors who hang art in their garages. It’s fun and funky.

Thank you for Senator Pope and his passion for renewable energy.

Thank you for the reassurance that I have this beautiful place to visit, at the very least.

Thank you for the smell of frosting paired with the look of multicolored sprinkles.

Thank you for a booch after a long break. It was decaffeinated, so it’s ok. Thank you for Stacey recommending Rowdy Mermaid to me.

Thank you for the Heart of the Buddha’s Teaching (THOTBT), pages 217, 224, and 225. What’s really pleasurable is reading that kind of book a few pages a day. It’s nice not to rush through books. What’s the hurry?

Thank you for longer days. 

Thank you for life feeling easier when I care less about some of the more superficial stuff, like wearing a different outfit every day. 

Thank you for the tip to keep from passing out. Maybe I was slow to learn about it. Here it is in case you don’t know, because it may come in handy. They say that if you feel like you’re going to pass out but can’t lie down, then squeeze and release the muscles in your butt, thighs, and calves. (Also it’s kind of funny.)

Thank you for a movie night with my mom.

Thank you for a reminder that love is not selfish.

Thank you for the electrical permit submitted and approved. That seems to be the last permit required, at least for a year.

Thank you for everyone who loves Peaches.

Thank you for turmeric.

Thank you for a pleasant meeting with Sister and Moms. We were all dreading it. We had to review the inventory of everything we lost and resend it to the fire lawyers. Digging up those memories is not pleasant, but it helps to appreciate the present and to remember that material stuff doesn’t give happiness. Anyway, none of us went too far down the rabbit hole this time. For that I’m grateful.

Thank you for my efforts to let go of the idea of a dream house or a dream car or place to live, or any dream thing. Those things (in my opinion), aren’t where my dreams belong. Getting or taking or having aren’t the goals I’d prefer either. It feels like I’m programmed to have those goals as a product of this environment/society, but re-programming is possible.

Thank you for efforts to improve.

Thank you for stubborn love.

Thank you for pockets.

Thank you for Sri Hari and Jaya being in my life again after a period of absence. Thank you for uplifting and thought-provoking chats with Sri over tea at Tifa before the move. Thank you for patient, forgiving friends. Thank you for friends with similar interests.

Thank you for the art of doing nothing. It’s the title of a book that was propped up on a rock in the dirt beside the walking path. I’ve never read it. Doing nothing does seem essential, and there must be an art to doing it well.

Thank you for the only headache this week leaving quickly. Cutting back on caffeine and screen time seems to have helped. It also made it go away faster to do nothing but lie in bed listening to the humidifier and staring at the ceiling.

Thank you for friends and family, and tons of others, getting vaccinated. 

Thank you for this last forty days in the desert. 

Thank you for an adventure on the horizon.

Thank you for different ways to show love. Some of mine are probably a little bit flawed, but I try.  

Thank you for Iceland.

Thank you for labradors.

Thank you for yucca.

Thank you for reconciliation.

Thank you for bear hugs.

Thank you for 123482610.

Thank you for the quote from THOTBT reminding me of how powerful my thoughts are, “To make hell into paradise, we only need to change the mind on which it is based.”

And, “The mind of the people is the basis of paradise. With your deluded mind, you make hell for yourself. With your true mind, you make paradise. If two people come together with true mind, they make a small paradise for themselves.”

Thank you for the power to feel love and hope instead of hurt and pessimism.

Thank you for letting go of grasping.

Thank you for openness.

Thank you for rest.

Thank you for the unknown.

Thank you for rain in the forecast. 

Thank you for ethical attorneys. 

Thank you for truth. 

Thank you for less than two months until moving day. It’s bittersweet. The plan was to leave the last week of March but now I hope to leave the first or even second week of April, as late as possible to save money on lodging. I just have to be there in time to have a space on the lot ready before the house is delivered. The house is set to leave the builders April 6, and it should be in transit a week or two.

Thank you for the willingness to do scary things. Some of what scares me about the move is driving the truck with car towed on back, stopping for gas (especially if reversing is necessary), finding a place to sleep, keeping Peaches calm and comfy, unpacking and repacking and unpacking again, figuring out how to get the house past where the street is blocked off and up to its landing spot, other logistical stuff. Also, what happens if I get sick? Hopefully this is the right thing to do. If not, then may I make the best out of it and learn from it.

Thank you for small living spaces.

Thank you for animal caregivers who clean up after their pets.

Thank you for last night, lying in bed and feeling grateful/happy for peace, comfort, health, rest.

Thank you for unscented household and beauty products.

Thank you for lipstick that comes wrapped in paper like a crayon.

Thank you for dad hats.

Thank you for compostable produce bags.

Thank you for waste and recycling services. 

Thank you for reminders of what day it is by the sound of the trash truck.

Thank you for how different places and creatures on earth seem otherworldly. 

Thank you for prescient dreams. A few times lately small details of the next day popped into dreams the night before.

Thank you for family.

Thank you for support networks that are like safety nets.

Thank you for a snow free parking lot.

Thank you for a snow and ice free walkway outside our building.

Thank you for chocolate with quinoa crisps.

Thank you for John Kerry.

Thank you for clean teeth.

Thank you for ginger.

Thank you for symbolism.

Thank you for games.

Thank you for analogies.

Thank you for puzzles.

Thank you for humor.

Thank you for the sound of the word “powder” in French. 

Thank you for thoughts that tickle.

Thank you for baskets.

Thank you for when space apart brings loved ones closer in the long run.

Thank you for Marc assigning me analysis of the most interesting item on the senior survey. Every year he let me sift through thousands of responses to “What was your most meaningful learning experience at UCLA?” Imagine having access to a databank filled with touching memories and insights collected from the once-in-a-lifetime experiences of high performing diverse adults.  

Thank you for simple designs.

Thank you for hands.

Thank you for others who practice mindfulness. When someone I stalked on social media had posted a photo of a tree sign with a mindfulness saying on it, I gained appreciation for my own practice. It started me thinking of mindfulness as something real and valuable. Before seeing that, if I were meditating and a friend called to ask what I was up to, I would have said “nothing.” I didn’t think mindfulness or meditation was worth bringing up, in a way. There was a lot for me to learn about it outside of the clinical and self-help settings. I mean, I knew it mattered, but I also didn’t. Seeing someone I looked up to celebrate the very thing I practiced gave me more respect for myself.

Thank you for bird tracks through the snow under the rosebush outside our door.

Thank you for Peaches licking my hand after it was hurt (not bad).

Thank you for Adam Grant on the Rich Roll Podcast. It was interesting their discussion about us being like preachers, politicians, prosecutors, scientists, and lighthouses (in how we relate to each other). Also I’d heard of support networks but never challenge networks. What else? The importance of enjoying challenges and welcoming being wrong as an opportunity to learn. For me, attitude makes a huge difference. When I assert something with an attitude or with pride, then it’s a lot harder to embrace if I’m wrong. It helps to have a questioning and humble attitude. Some people don’t seem to listen to me when I take the less confident approach, I’ve noticed. So that’s one drawback of not sounding too self assured. But then when I do have that uncertain, humble attitude, then I don’t have to walk back so far or eat humble pie when I’m wrong. When it’s easier to accept being wrong, then it’s easier to learn and grow from mistakes. It’s a goal not to be too sure of myself. Maybe that’s sort of what AG meant by being like a (good) scientist. Or not. Whatever. Question to seek truth, and don’t invest your ego in whether you’re right or wrong.

Thank you also for what Adam Grant said about procrastination being motivated not by aversion to work but by emotion. I agree. Behind my procrastination are fears of failure, of conflict, of making the wrong decisions, of getting into a hole that I can’t dig out from, etc.

Thank you for multiple weeks without a booch.

Thank you for when my dad would make a pita sandwich and call it a Lebaneser. Thank you for when he’d tell us about a dish, “Now this is bedouin food.” Thank you for his dry sense of humor. 

Thank you for Garrison at the solar place and for the renewable energy workforce.

Thank you for when we are moved to tears in any direction. It means we’re feeling deeply, and that’s essential to being human.

Thank you for sourdough bread with chocolate.

Thank you for when we are able to give space to friends who are confused or angry, when our involvement with them in some respects seems to water unwholesome seeds. Thank you for when there is faith that all parties involved have the wisdom, patience, compassion, and strength to navigate through difficulties and come out healthier as a result.

Thank you for the capacity to change.

Thank you for seemingly healthy intimate relationships, especially ones with challenges. Thank you for the hope and inspiration they give. 

Thank you for Bunny the talking dog. Probably many more dogs could talk if they were only taught how.

Thank you for Nora in customer service at the mattress place. She cared, which uplifted my day.

Thank you for Martin with LA DRP agreeing to chat about the permit requirements and how to submit the application. Thank you for the temporary housing application submitted and approved. I had been stressing over it for such a long time. Thank you for everyone who helped with it, especially Sister and Martin.

Thank you for Covid numbers going down.

Thank you for faith.

Thank you for love, the study of love, the practice of it.

Thank you for the t-shirt slogan that Jedidiah Jenkins mentioned on the RRP, “Remember when you wanted what you currently have.” I remember when I wanted more independence, out of grad school, out of the cubicle, fewer skin problems, healthier hair, not to feel alone, a dog, a car, less anger, to share thoughts with others, to feel comfortable in my body… Just so much. Looking back brings relief.

I’m especially thinking of when I had finished grad school but couldn’t get a job near my dad and wasn’t willing to apply farther out. It was one of the tougher periods of my adult life. I was running out of money and ended up fortunate to take the option of living back with him and my mom. He was in denial of his dementia, and didn’t trust. She was beyond stressed. They both needed help. Being there allowed me to contribute some, but I still needed an income. No one would hire me—maybe it’s how I presented myself. Then a caregiving agency finally gave me a chance. I was eventually assigned to an elderly couple four days a week for just above minimum wage. (The agency added a dollar an hour to care for one extra soul.) 

Both spent their days drinking coffee, heavily medicated, in recliners aimed at the TV. The woman’s deteriorating mental state kept her from recognizing her adult son and made her husband appear as her grandmother. She’d do things like decorate her pancakes with assorted pills. She was without exception gentle and kind. The man had a sound mind and thankfully treated his wife well. But he relished in calling me their servant. He liked to tell me how many ice cubes each wanted in their drinks, stuff like that. Through their door I became a less-than person. There were better fits with others, but this situation is what I stayed with.

Anyhow, my former boss called in the middle of that job to offer back a research position, part time. I took him up on it although I’d committed to yoga teacher training on the weekends and had no intention to leave caregiving. So for a time it was caregiving Mondays through Thursdays, research Fridays, and yoga training on Saturdays and Sundays. Every evening meant returning home to heartbreak. Then as my dad grew more ill, time as a paid caregiver dwindled while hours (working mainly from home) as a researcher increased. It sounds funny to say, but maybe I didn’t have the confidence to pursue yoga teaching. Not sure if I discounted my capacity for a fulfilling career, if teaching yoga wasn’t fulfilling in the right way, or if starting something new seemed daunting. Plus I had an open invitation back to the cubicle full time with a decent paycheck. Later circumstances gave me the chance for time off from office life, too. So much has changed in a good way, despite great loss. Now I look to gain inner health and empowerment that I’ve never had. To rest the constant feeling of being rushed. To calm the belief that I’m not good enough to make a difference or have a fulfilling vocation. There are prospects for a more stable home life. I feel determined to live responsibly and to support myself in fulfilling work, even if it means taking a break to reset.

Thank you for faith that if a connection is real, then a pause for clarity will only strengthen it.

Thank you for efforts to do what is best despite difficulties. Thank you for attempts to lay a healthy foundation for a future relationship.

Thank you for faith that everything will be ok no matter what tomorrow brings. (Honestly, one tomorrow will bring the end of tomorrows. That’s how it goes. That will be ok, too.)

Thank you for stand up comedy.

Thank you for the latest watch party with the ladies.

Thank you for POTUS leading with compassion, giving wisdom on how to grieve based on his experience. Feeling sadness and loss heals our insides to process grief in a healthy way.

Thank you for effort and ease.

Thank you for vegan almond croissants.

Thank you for iTunes for the time being.

Thank you for Milpa blue corn tortillas. They make crispy light chips in the air fryer.

Thank you for warmer and sunnier days here lately.

Thank you for clear, warm weather for a bike ride two weekends in a row.

Thank you for the calm gained when reading The Heart of the Buddha’s Teaching. Every time, I feel peaceful and happy. Thank you for different ways to give (from that book)—joy, presence, stability, freedom, freshness, peace, space, understanding. Thank you for the bottoms of pages 179, 181, and 188.

Thank you for the contentment of watching Peaches sleep.

Thank you for more house pics from Elyse and for everyone who is hard at work on construction. It has floors and walls and lofts and ceilings and windows now. The build appears to be on schedule.

Thank you for naturally lit kitchens. Cooking is easier in natural light. The end results can be tastier too.

Thank you for the comfort not to have broken bones or other major injuries. When I appreciate my health, it’s hard to be sad.

Thank you for busy days.

Thank you for the sun’s warmth.

Thank you for you.

Thank you for the design phase of the house finished and construction beginning. Thank you for everyone who is working hard to make it happen. Thank you for the house pics Elyse sent.

Thank you for Manny at SCE responding to my inquiry with a kind message.

Thank you for a moving truck with trailer reserved. Why was I so nervous about making the reservation? It ended up quick and easy. The truck is smaller than what I drove out here. Plus the move will not be as rushed and should be better prepared in some ways.

Thank you for the environmental health application submitted and approved (the first of two steps toward the temporary housing permit). Thank you for Sister requesting we pray over it before sending it out. It happened to be on the anniversary of when we lost our dad. He would have been happy with us and for us.

Thank you for hope that the pandemic will continue to shrink. Thank you for so many people being vaccinated.

Thank you for when science brings us closer to balance and equilibrium and farther from their opposites. I guess it’s not science per se but how/why it’s done and used, idk.

Thank you for humanity starting to open our eyes. Thank you for all of us who are trying to make things better.

Thank you for interconnectedness.

Thank you for eyes peeking above masks. 

Thank you for pandas playing in snow.

Thank you for supportive, caring, patient friends.

Thank you for cactus paddles that cradle snow like spoons.

Thank you for a sunny walk.

Thank you for leftover soup saving me from having to cook dinner.

Thank you for candlelight’s calm.

Thank you for the power of perspectives.

Thank you for forgotten thoughts of gratitude.

Thank you for active communities.

Thank you for infrastructure in cities that nurtures well-being and cooperation.

Thank you for how we are sort of products of our environment. It can be unhealthy but also presents opportunity.

Thank you for mom and sister painting together every week lately.

Thank you again for the TJs here in ABQ. The friendliness is happy-making.

Thank you for a little more practice expressing dissent in healthier ways.

Thank you for jackfruit carnitas. Thank you for fingers that smell like corn tortillas.

Thank you for C Street and Sunset with Al and Ryan a lifetime ago.

Thank you for unlikely friendships.

Thank you for conversations about what matters to us. Thank you for heartfelt talks from unassuming talkers. 

Thank you for bike rides on PCH and Mulholland.

Thank you for visits with Stacey and the family at Joi Cafe.

Thank you for the decision to be happy in my home.

Thank you for the decision not to have anything in the house run on any gas, which I didn’t realize was a thing. Now I’m learning, it is a thing. (There’s a lot for me to learn.)

Thank you for a nightguard to keep from grinding, especially for Sister recommending it and sharing her dentist friends with me. So far it doesn’t like to spend the night in my mouth. I’m not giving up. Thank you for Dorothy and Quan being so caring.

Thank you for the luxury to rest when tired. Thank you for awareness that resting when tired should not be a luxury.  

Thank you, again, for my anger continuing to subside over the years, especially these days. I don’t think it could be a situational effect (not entirely).

Thank you for self awareness (of problems, challenges) and openness about issues. 

Thank you for ways to keep track of finances.

Thank you for the word “tub.”

Thank you for the term “soda pop.”

Thank you for Support + Feed.

Thank you for PCRM.

Thank you for Plum Village.

Thank you for when we don’t automatically accept what is presented to us as obviously or incontrovertibly correct. Views approved by consensus may be mistaken—even views that so many feel entitled to self-righteously defend. What is healthy or “right” may depend on the circumstances. It can be impossible to understand what is happening with someone if you aren’t going through it yourself.

Thank you for dreams of a new home in an old spot, of growing a garden, of rides to Sage for lazy brunch, dinners cooked for loved ones, walks around the lake, talks at the library, campouts in the yard, quiet meditations, yoga before bed, soaks in the tub, tiny house retreats for city-worn friends, chats with neighbors down the hill, trips to farmers markets, mornings at the beach, bike rides, sunbaths, star gazes, compost bins (two!), sunburns, coyotes and deer and bunnies and squirrels and tarantulas and maybe even mountain lions.

Thank you for a winter coat. 

Thank you for the internal capacity to regulate emotions. Thank you for our insides doing the gradual work of balancing us out, when all we do is accept our feelings. Trust in the process and willingness to be uncomfortable have helped me. Considering that I yelled back at an elderly lady with road rage last week while I was out for a walk, there is room for improvement.

Thank you for muscles that strengthen with use.

Thank you for flexibility. Thank you for balance. I’m not that flexible and balanced but strive to be. It’s reassuring to see that they increase with effort.

Thank you for vegan pecan pie from Annapurna’s 

Thank you for overall confidence in NM elected officials and how they’re handling the virus. 

Thank you for women different from me who stop wearing makeup (“slave paint”) and dyeing their hair, who let their body hair grow freely and live off grid in the jungle with their boyfriends. I admire the confidence, fierceness, integrity.

Thank you for the blurb in the New Yorker about Paul Desmond and Audrey Hepburn that puts a positive spin on light stalking.

Thank you for breaks from screen time, breaks from the news especially.

Thank you for employees who realize it’s unwise and unhealthy to keep taking on more and more at their job. These days so many institutions downsize and push more work onto fewer employees, or else they grow their output without expanding their payroll. It results in overworked and stressed employees. Fortunately, some are able to stand up and say this isn’t right and/or to find alternative incomes.

Thank you for healthy forms of diligence. 

Thank you for the realization that we shouldn’t have to punish ourselves (working long hours, enduring stressful commutes, draining our curiosity, relying on chemical stimulants, losing sleep, being confined or strained for hours….) every day in order to afford basic comforts—to make a living, I mean. If that is the requirement or the norm in society, then society is flawed. We as individuals are not flawed for wanting freer and simpler lives.

Thank you for pleasurable effort, work.

Thank you for self esteem. Just saying it is something to be grateful for.

Thank you for a new way to stay awake when meditating: have a tall glass of water first.

Thank you for when monster headaches let up. The latest is almost done. Maybe it was a coffee hangover.

Thank you for the homemade mocha ice blended that gave me the monster headache. It wasn’t worth the pain but did satisfy a coffee craving.

Thank you for our compassion for each other’s petty and not-so-petty struggles.

Thank you for positive benefits that build from doing the same little thing consistently over time. It’s extra rewarding if that thing involves communication and trust with someone you care about. Such work is more than worth it.

Thank you for you.

Thank you for respect.

Thank you for intelligence.

Thank you for companionship.

Thank you for kindness.

Thank you for yearnings.

Thank you for beauty.

Thank you for appreciation.

Thank you for tenacity.

Thank you for excitement.

Thank you for softness.

Thank you for devotion.

Thank you for change.

Thank you for warm, slow evolutions of relationships.

Thank you for pizza sauce. 

Thank you for awareness that I feel very overwhelmed lately (as usual) and how fortunate it is to have a positive future to feel overwhelmed about.

Thank you for mindful breaths.

Thank you for peaceful sleep.

Thank you for a fridge packed with healthy food—sweet potatoes, greens, berries, lentils…

Thank you for kitchen organization that prevents food waste.

Thank you for almost lunchtime.

Thank you for forced rest on snow days.

Thank you for when I heard S.O.Y.P., etc., this morning and thought of what Thich Nhat Hanh said about equanimity or inclusiveness, one of the four elements of true love. He shared something like this: If you throw a handful of salt in a bowl of water, the water becomes undrinkable. But if you throw the same amount of salt in a river, the salt disperses and people can still enjoy drinking from the river. It’s because the river is immense. He said to be immense, like the river. That’s what I’ll try to do.

Thank you for when we can see where our vagueness may have been the source of misunderstanding, and we try to make ourselves clearer.

Thank you for DM3 and its counterpart. To me it feels like they’ve evolved through disagreements, vulnerabilities, and persistence to be even more special than they were at the start. Hopefully I’m not alone in that feeling. Hopefully what I’ve contributed is beneficial beyond me.

Thank you for the last minute decision to give up the app with mysterious vibes for the period of lent. Time there was rewarding, especially believing in its benefits beyond me. I am very grateful for it. But recent word shows that it continues to be a source of confusion and suffering. I will lovingly give a break to prioritize wellbeing.