“May you know what a gift you are to this world. You are more important and more loved than your heart can fathom . . . and the universe is always trying to show you that. . . .” —Laura Lynne Jackson

Thank you for the boost to self esteem from doing what feels difficult (posting here) regularly over the past few months.

Thank you for word searches offline that come up with new ways to relay thoughts.

Thank you for our receptiveness to guidance from the universe. 

Thank you for our openness to love.

Thank you for a tool to aid decision making—ask for signs and be open to receive them.

Thank you for belief in miracles.

Thank you for the natural wonder of Peaches going turbo (getting the zoomies?) at the CEA office. Occasionally, she’d be “moved by the spirit” to launch from zero to full-force sprint, then speed around the cubicles. Two or three laps later it would end just as abruptly with her panting it out. (Love that girl.)

Thank you for a trustworthy dentist who takes his time.

Thank you for Coco’s enthusiastic good mornings.

Thank you for friends back home (RP, KG…) sending pics of the lot at Seminole, greenery after the rain, peacocks at the Old Place… Thank you for the hope their thoughtfulness feeds.

Thank you for peaceful sleep in quiet neighborhoods.

Thank you for soft, warm beds.

Thank you for investment of care into gifts we’re given (like our bodies) as a way of showing appreciation. 

Thank you for applied gratitude.

Thank you for homemade dressings on hearty salads.

Thank you for white butterflies cheering on another arroyo run.

Thank you for the four clairs.

Thank you for abundant opportunities when the aim is to be helpful or supportive. Doors open to accept gifts. That’s at least part of why my advice to self is to give, because I know it’s good for everyone. Especially when we take charge of how it happens (i.e., when we’re in control and proactive). Intentionally aligning one’s contributions with values, interests, passions, and strengths gives meaning on both sides.

Thank you for how we receive what we offer because we’re all connected.

Related to the above, thank you for switches from scarcity to abundance mindsets.  Hopefully they lead us to generosity and investing with a long view that esteems the present.

Thank you for the latest lady crush, on psychic medium and English teacher Laura Lynne Jackson.

Thank you for her book, Signs. 

Thank you for her dedicating that book, in part, to the reader (see quote up top).

Thank you for the “3-D dreams” she writes about. I wonder if you’ve had them, too. 

Thank you for signs from Dad. One I just remembered has to do with finding a place to live after the Woolsey fire. Our lodging at an Extended Stay—three of us in one smelly room—highly motivated relocation efforts. That may explain why I’d rushed to put a deposit on an apartment, only to discover soon after that it was in an unsafe spot. Luckily, a new search unearthed what appeared a safer, less expensive, and more comfortable option than the one I’d committed to. 

So I headed up the 405 from work to check it out. Traffic gave time to brood over the last choice and hope for better luck this go around. And as those thoughts churned, a license plate caught my eye. I think it said DADLFXT. It was true that he always swooped to the rescue. Reading those letters right there and then gave a feeling that this time was no different. 

Thank you for gifts that last forever.

Thank you for friends like RB who show us to ourselves in a better light and expand our capacity to love.

Thank you for inspiration trails. Sis recommended a documentary. It taught about a medium. The medium’s book mentioned someone on the Other Side. His Ted Talk lifted my spirit. If any of it brings you inspiration, we’re even farther along!

Thank you for connections that enrich our paths.

Thank you for the forgiveness of time and the timelessness of love.

Thank you for this time and next. Wishing you well!

“After the final no, there comes a yes, and on that yes the future world depends.” — Wallace Stevens (quoted by Al Gore)

“We all have a really, really big strength, almost like a superpower. And that superpower is our voice…. Don’t forget that your voice and your story are your super powers.” — Itzel Morales Lagunes

Thank you for white-winged doves reminiscent of Peaches. Thank you for their wake up calls outside the window. 

Thank you for “unsubdued elations” (also Wallace Stevens).

Thank you for interesting snippets from a talk by Leah Stokes: “According to Rewiring America, 42% of the energy-related pollution we create comes from decisions that American families make every day around the kitchen table” (like what kind of car we drive, how we cook dinner, how we dry our clothes, how we heat our home and water, where our electricity comes from).

Thank you for her perspective on our homes as little fossil-fuel power plants: There are 140 million homes in this country, and most of them contain gas-burning appliances like space heaters, ovens, cooktops, water heaters, dryers, cars… A billion such machines in the U.S. run on fossil fuels. (Could you imagine having a billion quarters? Or dimes even? Pennies! Little stuff adds up.)

Thank you for gobs of IRA rebates and tax credits for the taking. Thank you for this IRA savings calculator that tells how much we may qualify for.

Thank you for opportunities. The sense that I’ve missed one, by not speaking or acting when the time seemed right, may be an illusion. Life teems with opportunities to redeem.

Thank you for percussion thumped on guitars.

Thank you for a day of cooking after a stretch of fasting.

Thank you for thinking minds that respect inner visions. Some folks assume it’s an either/or—as if our rational thoughts were at odds with intuitive insight. I wonder if it’s better to see the rational mind as a tool. Feelings, observations, beliefs, curiosities, intuition, etc. may craft conclusions with reason as their tool. So when a genuinely intuitive vision appears in conflict with a seemingly rational conclusion, then the “rational” product may be what’s faulty. For instance, the latter may be short-sighted or narrow, ill-formed by a rookie craftsman (like fear), whereas the essence of intuitive sense encompasses a broader scope. That scope could be consistent with masterfully crafted reason yet to congeal. (IDK if that makes any sense.) 

Thank you for the silly saying in philosophy circles, “One person’s modus ponens is another’s modus tollens.”

Thank you for a harmonious Easter with family.

Thank you for memories of Aunt Jaybird’s vibrance.

Thank you for our ancestors’ spirits watching over us. If they really were there, I may not feel deserving. They’d probably love me regardless of how despicable I can seem to me. They appreciate our hearts.

Thank you for the grace of forgiveness that’s neither earned nor racks up debt, that’s as free of requirements as it is of expectations.

Thank you for multiple zingers on the recent Rich Roll Podcast with Cory Booker. The senator shared stories of his shame to empower us through ours.

Thank you for his positive spin on challenges and challenging spin on positivity: “Real hope is scarred. Real hope is wounded. Real hope has had to be resurrected more than once.”

And, “Great despair is a necessary precondition to manifesting great hope.”

Last one, “In the face of intractable problems, hope is always the answer, and doubling down on love…” (Rich Roll).

Thank you for the Cali super-blooms.

Thank you for spring flowers alongside walking trails in the Sandia foothills.

Thank you for the RB lookalike at the blood center yesterday.

Thank you for the choice to give up less safe (overcrowded) spaces, with faith that we all thrive in environments conducive to direct, transparent communication. Those safer spaces hold us accountable to our respect for each other, shine a light on our integrity, and give essential feedback that adjusts our words and acts to better align with our intentions. 

Thank you for scary and exciting (for me) plans to stray from comfort zones. 

Thank you for the thrill of engaging with fears.

Thank you for every one and thing offering lessons. The material is all around. My task is to watch and listen and learn.

Thank you for the warmth of others. Thank you for simple delights of daily living.

Thank you for Harvest Moon playing at the vet’s office when I picked up Coco’s meds on the eleventh anniversary of Peaches and my rescue.

Thank you for the conscious aim, if there is a forced choice, not for a full bank account but for a full life.

Thank you for endings opening into beginnings. Thank you for emptiness unearthing new paths.

Thank you for tapas (one of the niyamas).

Thank you for repeated reminders to self like the one to acknowledge that when I seem to do well, other people and circumstances (even “tragedies”) are crucial to that success. 

Thank you for friends who treasure the good in us despite evidence against it. Thank you if I learn from their examples.

Thank you for diminished fear of death now that my closest pal is gone.

Thank you for doggy hugs and kisses.

Thank you for a friend’s memory: “The sound of her pitter patter, little beans on the floor, I’ll never forget that.”  (I love you, AH.)

Thank you for welcoming what arises from the unknown.

Thank you for Neighbor G’s condolences. I shared that walking helps. She said doing so changes your brain chemistry, so it’s good for grief.

Thank you for after dinner walks replacing heaviness with energy while alleviating angst.

Thank you for mindfulness of mundane stuff like toothbrushing and even pooping.

Thank you for the Woolsey fire forcing us in its path to grow. Thank you for the friends it gave me. Thank you for deeper connections in impacted communities.

Thank you for sharp peaks of emotion sanded smooth with equanimity over time.

Thank you for acceptance that if I can’t change the world on a macro level, I still can try to live well. That wellness will actually change the world. 

Thank you for the kindness in Al Gore’s talks. Thank you for the passion spurring his cause.

Thank you for lessons from regrets over Peaches’ healthcare.

1. We are allowed to change our minds multiple times if doing so is genuine to us. Decision-making can be iterative. (Is that the right word?)

2. We may be the best advocates—even better than the pros—for ourselves and those in our care.

3. Be aware of external pressures, and note the sources of those pressures. Same with internal ones.

4. If you feel rushed, try to step back. You may actually have time to think through a situation from a removed vantage point.

They tell me guilt is normal. Part of me wonders if we (Peaches and I) didn’t get her miracle recovery because I convinced myself it was foolish and selfish to believe in one. Or maybe the fight in me was exhausted. Sometimes our belief in possibility makes the crucial difference. 

Thank you for the peace that came from re-reading journal entries. I trust my girl is in a better place. Still, insights from doubts are tools to navigate future uncertainties. Thank you again for the grace she gave and teaches me to give. 

Thank you for her ashes on the nightstand near where she slept. It’s like Thich Nhat Hanh explained if his ashes were to be kept in a stupa. He would have wanted us to know that he’s not in that shrine; he’s not outside it, either. He’s in our breaths and steps—when we feel peace, fulfillment, joy, and happiness. 

Thank you for memories and the souvenirs, notes, memos that refresh them, since part of living well is simply recalling the essential stuff.

Thank you for trust in the universe translated into practical terms. (It’s a struggle for me.) Ideally, I make choices under my control in the present. And I plan, insofar as a discernible path aligns options with values. Then there are unknowns where I feel really blind or cases where control comes only with grasping—with sacrificing a value or wellness. The aim then is to let go? To do what seems best? Something like that…

Thank you for day three of a fast. I seek strength within that extends beyond me. I wish healing from dependence into freedom, from anger into understanding, from deception into truth, from fear into courage. For everyone struggling in relationships, may we achieve peaceful closure or may we work it out—with harmony prevailing, regardless. May truth and love be the foundations on which our futures flourish.

Thank you for the thought of vegan purple cows. The purple cow as I recall is a float with grape juice and vanilla ice cream. (I wonder how that sounds if you’ve never tried it.)

Thank you for my parents’ nicknames for each other prior to their divorce in the eighties: Mommo and Daddo (sort of like Jiddo and Sito). Anyhow, in Daddo’s final days, we all were there to care for him, and she once again called him the name that had long lain dormant.

Thank you for anticipation after a new used book arrives and before the first read.

Thank you, in uncertainty, for urges over and over to focus on the present and what I can control.

Thank you for those who love us and those we love.

Thank you for the optimism of spring. Thank you for new life ahead.

Thank you for epic road trips. If you’re on one, stay safe. Enjoy the journey and the company!

Thank you for your wellness.

“Thinking of every venture, every project as an experiment is a great way to go through life. It lowers the stakes. It minimizes the downside. It lets you take a shot on something that otherwise might be way too intimidating.” - Ryan Holiday (Ventures seen as adventures also can be helpful.)

Thank you for free smiles on a rainy walk. Strangers seemed to give them not as courtesy but as expressions of glee.

Thank you for our last family outing with Peaches. 

Thank you for the feeling (in between cranky episodes) that my heart is spilling over with forgiveness since she’s been gone. She gave me that, and I want it for others.

Thank you for the Peaches in me and the Peaches in you. We’re all a little bit Peaches!

Thank you for Surviving Death episodes one and six (a Sister recommendation).

Thank you for space to adjust to this new life. It is kind of sad and in some sense lonely but hopeful, too.

Thank you for the realization that decisions up my anxiety. Whether about treatment options for my girl or chocolate bars at the store, I get nervous. Pressure added onto each choice then clouds what’s going on. It contributes to regret. Calm, as usual, is an antidote extending clarity to those critical moments.

Thank you for wandering thoughts on long walks.

Thank you for friends texting song links last week for no special reason. 

Thank you for the clunk of the teacup on the nightstand. 

Thank you for fresh ginger tea.

Thank you for all that’s magical in life. Thank you for belief in more than our eyes see. Thank you for guidance.

Thank you for dreams recorded and reviewed. Thank you for when loved ones visit us in dreams.

Thank you for miracles.

Thank you for coherence.

Thank you for summer plans taking shape. On the list is a meditation retreat and visiting friends, if they’re up for it. A trip to CA, too.

Thank you for a possible new career path to experiment with.

Thank you for that actor’s quick no and long yes: "Before I say yes to anything...I give myself about 2 weeks in each frame of mind—yes I'm in, no I'm out—and then I measure what keeps me up at night.”

Thank you (again) for distance from a stifling career to reset self-esteem, curiosity, and compassion—which takes time. Thank you nonetheless for friends and experiences gained in that chapter.

Thank you for a definition of success including personal wellness. Beyond having a positive impact indulging passions, a successful me moves most days and sleeps well most nights. She’s outdoors often. And, of course, connects (honestly) with others…

Thank you for the gentle ways of Peanut Bob. I call him that because he’d walk up Mulholland tossing breakfast to the blue birds. He’s part of what makes the place special.

Thank you for vivid flashbacks of cycling canyon roads not measuring distance or speed, just enjoying. That may be how dogs feel cruising with their heads out the window—freedom!

Thank you for my sobriety and healthy eating journeys. Let’s focus on the latter. I used to be kind of addicted to sodas and fast food—Taco Bell, Burger King, Carl’s Jr., In and Out… The attachments took years to loosen, and old ways attract me still, even the substances. But tugs in that direction are met with awareness of downsides. Plus the benefits of life now are too good. I’m grateful to be somewhat even-keeled. The pleasure beyond passing moments is truer. I face the world with a little straighter spine. Mornings feel fresher. My body is “lighter” and clean and mind enjoys clarity. Thank you for a freer way to be.

Thank you for irreverent offerings of wisdom like this endurance cyclist’s take on opportunity in adversity.

Thank you for heartfelt exchanges with my shero sisters. Thank you for the good fortune to use the plural.

Thank you for care we put into ourselves. As I tend to my suffering, yours diminishes, and vice versa. Every step back is a lesson. Every step forward is a victory.

Thank you for heart-to-hearts with myself when missing a loved one. Feeling powerless due to the circumstances, I urge myself to trust. Practice love. Be patient. Surrender to the unknown and appreciate its gifts.

Thank you for a related thought about giving up control: If we’re growing and learning, then maybe our futures will look different from what our past (more limited) selves envisioned. The future may exceed our visions in ironic ways. It may also reveal value in what we previously didn’t appreciate. 

Thank you for trials and errors, experiments, and leaps of faith. 

Thank you for love as a catalyst of unbounded wonders.

Thank you for “Half the battle is just showing up.” - Stephen Hawking 

Thank you for another reminder on being vulnerable. It means I’m aware that I may seem foolish, dumb, whatever, yet I go ahead and share.

Thank you for LP’s vulnerability to disclose painful personal experiences.

Thank you for Sister C’s animated shark singing Ave Maria in her voice. Thank you for her creative humor.

Thank you for Sister A’s liveliness and funky salutations. Thank you for her generous care.

Thank you for a walk along Juan Tabo when the funny thought sprouted that loneliness is a shark with no teeth. The real danger comes when fleeing it leads us to hazardous spots.

Thank you for a daily practice of asking the universe to guide me: “I’m surrendering to you. Please take control. Reveal the way forward.” Ideas have been popping up. My eyes see little signs in daily life and inner view has landed on insights.

Thank you for fruits of trust in a greater intelligence.

Thank you for bantus giving a built-in pillow or bumpers to cushion my head during sleep.

Thank you for the vibrance fresh beets add to smoothies. Thank you for their reasonable cost.

Thank you for inadvertent seagull sounds issuing from landlocked toddlers.

Thank you for this five-minute clip on mindfulness and climate action.

Thank you for snowflakes caught on my eyelashes like in that Sound of Music song.

Thank you for relationship advice to my future self. Since understanding is essential to love, healthy relationships involve honest and ongoing efforts at mutual understanding. It, too, is a salve that generates forgiveness. We grow forgiveness (for ourselves and others) when we offer time, listening, and understanding through a selfless lens. 

Thank you, again, if advice to myself offers a boost beyond me. 

Thank you for calming visits to Dodd Hall when depression raged like a hurricane ages ago. It must be similar to riding in the car for cranky babies or browsing Tiffany’s for Holly Golightly’s mean reds.

Thank you for Peaches’ existence in the analog world attracting my presence there.

Thank you for her presence starving my negativity and nourishing positivity. Her way of being cultivated joy. Closeness to her fed warmth. I hope to honor her by keeping those qualities alive.

Thank you for her cuddles.

Thank you for the friends she drew near.

Thank you for habits of care for my lady reinforcing habits of care for myself.

Thank you for the structure she added to each day. She was my anchor.

Thank you for the preparation our time together gave me for our time apart. 

Thank you for her last moments with us.

Thank you for a sensitive, compassionate vet to facilitate her transition.

Thank you for nothing to say to her lifeless body. The vet was about to leave the room so I could be with it alone, but it didn’t feel necessary. I had already shared my heart with her while she lived. Plus, she’s in my heart now.

Thank you for love from friends and family.

Thank you for the ends of lives and relationships sometimes being less traumatic when those lives and connections enjoyed healthy fullness on some measure.

Thank you for how I wouldn’t notice the cold now if not for her warmth.

Thank you for when I explored loneliness by asking what it is. “It’s a feeling.” Okay, then what is a feeling? No answer needed for that one. I get that loneliness won’t consume me. We can converse. I have choices—to acknowledge it, respect the feeling, and let it teach me as I mend.

Thank you for the foresight to know I’d be disoriented after she was gone. A walk outside brought peace. Then I sorted through her belongings and washed her bedding, leash, and harness. The next day I dropped off her stuff at the animal clinic, where staff and I exchanged condolences and gratitude. One blanket, a dog tag, and a lock of fur are what I kept; the rest is gone—I envy her tiny paw print! Anyway, clearing out reflects the reality of a different life.

Thank you for a new chapter opening, a chance to surrender and be led. Thank you for opportunities to honor my lady baby by making good of this next chapter.

Thank you for nature abhorring a vacuum. (I wonder if that Far Side comic is still taped to Calvin’s office door...)

Thank you for the balance between fear and courage tipping in favor of the latter at the moment. I fear you may judge me for loving and grieving in a foreign way but accept my personal perspective as worthy to share. Maybe it’ll be of use. This helps me, anyhow.

Thank you for yoga chitta vritti nirodha.

Thank you for ho’oponopono and its similarities to what I learned from Dad’s hospice care. They taught the practice to help with closure.

Thank you for the beauty of life.

Thank you for lines from the Tao Te Ching:

Map difficult through easy

Approach great through narrow

The most difficult things in the world

Must be accomplished through the easiest

The greatest things in the world

Must be accomplished through the smallest.

Thank you for the Morning Pages habit and benefits it brings.

Thank you for the color and smell of gochugaru.

Thank you for allowing thoughts. (This may be a repeat.) Years ago I set the rule that thoughts are a safe space. I decided never to shut out a thought, whether it imagines something heinous like beating up an old lady or cursing out a little kid, or is randomly inappropriate like yelling in a library. There is no, “Stop thinking about it.”

The freedom encourages me to process. I’m not pushing out but am tugging and digging —“From where does this thought or feeling arise? Why is it here? What would result from acting on it?”

To me, it’s like the Bible passage Mark 9:43-47 advising that if your eye or hand causes you to sin, then cut it off. I (mis)interpret that advice as a call to seek causes. When we look at the cause of a less-than-healthy inclination, it won’t be a hand or an eye. It may instead be the influences we absorb (media we consume, for instance, or people we’re around)…stuff like that. 

Thank you for how Peaches has transformed my life. It’s a lesson in the ease of making a difference. Peaches doesn’t talk. She has zero dollars or education and very little stuff. Her meals are humble. Her dress, basic. She’s content with simplicity. She accepts and she forgives. Being real—exuberant, affectionate, calm, aware, curious, hungry, vulnerable—how much light she adds to the world!

Thank you for the vets and vet techs and front desk staff at Aztec Animal Clinic caring for my sweet lady.

Thank you for geese honking in the sky over SR 313.

Thank you for a new way to see life challenges (a bike ride thought). The sum of them can seem like a mountain—a heap of difficulties piled up, blocking freedom. To whittle down the mountain, we may use what meager or grand tools we have to dig. 

As we plow down, though, life adds on. We start to realize—we’ll never level it this way. So how do we make a real dent? And how will doing so ever help if life relentlessly builds? The struggle will be nonstop. 

The thought was, external life doesn’t block our way. We needn’t combat nature because the Mountain that’s stalling us isn’t out there. I mean, rather than referring to happenings beyond us, the heap of hardships is within—in the way we think and feel about the landscape outside.

Since it’s in our minds, it’s not actually blocking our way through the external world. Not having “level ground” outside us is compatible with moving forward as long as we have choices. And as for the ranges in our heads that seem insurmountable, we can actually think our way through them. In their center, deep under the base, are seeds from which our living inner mountains grow.  We can examine that base and below it to the roots. Then, even the inner peaks are not obstacles but guides.

Thank you for the OG male supermodel on the RRP discussing mental health for men and the call for them to engage in real and vulnerable ways. Thank you also for the talk of mentors. 

Thank you for my first serious mentors (in grad school on the west coast). It’s counterintuitive how they built me up by giving break after break. They weren’t hard on me. They didn’t rage or insult. It showed me to be kinder to myself. In turn, I felt warmer toward others. 

Thank you for stable and mature adults who communicate wisdom from experience to those in their charge. 

Thank you for sureness that solidifies from questioning what we deserve. Thank you for awareness as a byproduct of discerning other perspectives. Thank you for compassion.

Thank you for luxurious self-care rituals. 

Thank you for little happy moments like quiet breakfasts, rides lost in thought, warm baths, cozy bedtimes, fun reads, movie nights, heartfelt chats, doggy cuddles…that strung together make for a happier life.

Thank you for BT hanging curtains in my room as a surprise. Thank you for her patience and understanding during a challenging time.

Thank you for unapologetic hope in truth and healing for all, with the understanding that I’m responsible solely for my own truth and healing. Please wish me healing. Please wish me success in efforts to stay clear of what is less than healthy and focus on what nourishes (like gratitude). If you are choosing to read this, I hope you find nourishment in it, too. 

Thank you for this article on self sabotage and for this quote from it: “Love the person you’re becoming, and believe you have something special to share with the world.” 

Thank you for sourdough bread with chocolate.

Thank you for hazelnut butter (with or without chocolate).

Thank you for Coco the whirling dervish.

Thank you for beautiful skies. If your surroundings lack inspiration, go out and look up! 

Thank you for Juley Bee from Etsy bringing back the love cows. Thank you for her kindness and talent. Thank you for artists who enhance lives beyond their own. 

Thank you for induction cooktops and electric ovens.

Thank you for quotes from the Growth Equation newsletter:

“Get comfortable spending time on the plateau.”

“Breakthroughs often occur after periods of static, even stagnation. Generally speaking, you have to wrestle with and absorb the work before you start to realize its benefits, especially in an observable manner.”

Thank you for cold splashes of water to wake up the face.

Thank you for greased hinges.

Thank you for mornings, afternoons, evenings, and nights.

Thank you for routines. Thank you for the comfort in their repetitive uneventfulness and the value in what they cultivate.

Thank you for the ability to be there for loved ones in need.

Thank you for another move on the horizon. Thank you for life about to completely change again.

Thank you for the journal of controversial ideas, which I’ve never read, but it sounds interesting.

Thank you for mindful inquiry to reduce stress.

Thank you for baby-step thoughts. One day I was agonizing over a life path. My mind chatter said I wasn’t good at anything—nothing career-worthy, anyhow. Then a voice asked me to think of what I can do. Well, I can write letters. (Some have had influence.) Later, I realized another capacity is to feed people.

What “little” things can you do? Appreciate the easy stuff that comes naturally, that you enjoy. Take stock of gifts you tend to overlook or minimize. Acknowledge when you see an impact stem from action. Be aware. Focus energy with intention. My hunch is doing so grows one’s influence.

Thank you for new year’s resolutions remembered. Thank you for moving forward little by little.

Thank you for completion of the search for “home” lifting a heavy burden. 

Thank you again for all the blessings within uncertainty and so-called wasted time. Wandering broadens our perspectives. Understandings become stretchier as they reach in multiple directions, and we grow just as comfortable in uncertainty as we are appreciative of feeling secure.

Thank you for the wish never to feel that I’ve arrived home and instead to see that nowhere and everywhere are both home.

Thank you for the clean happy energy after a tub soak. Thank you for shampoo days.

Thank you for moonshine backlighting tiger-stripe clouds.

Thank you for the latest read, the Tao Te Ching. It’s poetry. The words seem too sparse to convey meaning. But then each re-read is like another coat of light paint on a dark surface. 

Thank you for Peaches resting her head on my feet.

Thank you for family and friends. I love you. Thank you for neighbors. I’m working to love you too.

Thank you for our futures.

Thank you for communication nourishing relationships with compassion.

Thank you for our bodies appreciating us for feeding them well. A reward is happy energy.

Thank you for a song a neighbor sent (not sure why) on Valentine’s Day—Martha by Tom Waits. Thank you for Marthas and Toms.

Thank you for Friday tidying sessions with BT. Thank you for our progress on multiple levels. Thank you for the laughs we share.

Thank you for the difference between shame and guilt. Did Brene Brown talk about it? Guilt for not living my values or for causing hurt is appropriate. Shame debilitates. While there is no shame in wrongdoing, guilt helps me accept responsibility and grow.

Thank you for a slip on ice that bubbled a giggle of whimsy. It was like in the Ted Talk Sister A sent—dancing!

Thank you for awareness of the potential to cause harm. Drug or alcohol problems may be years behind me but their seeds are still there. Awareness of dormant potential safeguards me from actualizing it. 

Thank you for efforts to simplify life. 

Thank you for doggy acupuncture.

Thank you for my healthiest ten years since switching to a plant-based diet.

Thank you for positive transformations happening overnight on a whim. Going vegan was like that. Same with adopting Peaches.

Thank you for firm decisions to be led toward love regardless of obstacles. What appears a sacrifice, when made for the right reasons, may really be a gift.

Thank you for hemp, chia, and flax seeds.

Thank you for genuine friends. Thank you for the warmth of exchanging I love yous with them.

Thank you for those who stand by unpopular decisions firm with internal conviction.

Thank you for the distinction between forcing myself to do what seems right from the outside and freeing myself to do what feels right deep inside (deeper even than less-than-healthy patterns that may feel natural). 

Thank you for insects. Thank you for environments where they thrive.

Thank you for the Rich Roll Podcast with Rick Rubin! Thank you for his insights on creativity and mysticism. Thank you for when we notice the whispers, respect them, and act on them.

Thank you for personal relationships with the universe. Thank you for conversations with the unconscious through dreams and the like. Thank you for inspiration everywhere. Thank you for honing our vision to see life’s magic.

Thank you for art in general and the art of living specifically.

Thank you for deliberation on whether or not to continue these posts. Part of me sees them as silly and redundant. Sometimes they feel boring. It’s ok. Maybe I’ll keep it up at least until the move home, granted no emergency sidetracks focus before then. Purposes: 

1. Sustain and promote a gratitude practice. (To cultivate positivity and share it may have ripple effects.)

2. Cultivate and share inspiration from books, podcasts, videos, life happenings, etc.

3. Communicate thoughts and updates to loved ones. 

4. Dissolve my shame by exposing my vulnerability.

5. Develop tenacity fused with authenticity. Being consistent even if it seems trifling or redundant may build a reputation with both the universe and my self esteem.

6. Give back some of the love shown me.

May we open to the gifts life silently lays all around us <3

Thank you for a surprise call from BW. Thank you for her cheerfulness and generosity. Thank you for her new Great Pyrenees on the way—Abby’s granddaughter.

Thank you for Echo’s trainer building his confidence.

Thank you for dried sea vegetables expanding in soup.

Thank you for how smooth teeth feel after a good brush.

Thank you for when “windshield wiper” is a verb. 

Thank you for quiet mornings in the kitchen.

Thank you for a little pause from house planning to gain perspective. Thank you for caring designers. Thank you for details that make up a home. 

Thank you for self acceptance and other acceptance.

Thank you for reminders to focus on living my life as a remedy for being caught in others’ narratives.

Thank you for how living my life isn’t always about living my life. It may involve placing effort where care is needed.

Thank you for Peaches’ cuteness when she squats to pee.

Thank you for time to think about the way I treat those around me and determination to improve. Same with how I treat myself.

Thank you for childlike smiles.

Thank you for the lightened burden when self-flagellation lifts from difficult situations. 

Thank you to the universe when it steps in to correct my harsh judgements. 

Thank you for life humbling all of us. 

Thank you for stillness in the face of technology’s allure. Thank you for the enrichment of doing nothing. Thank you for moments of freedom in the analog world. 

Thank you for truth that pierces illusions. Thank you for the value of the inconspicuous and discounted. 

Thank you for love making our lives worth living and the work we do having value insofar as it furthers love.

Thank you (again) for a place to live long term. Thank you for dreams of being established and building a life with greater purpose. Thank you for the promise of stability and adventure.

Thank you for when we make where we are home.

Thank you for struggles that disintegrate our facades. 

Thank you for our roughness and gentleness. Thank you for the hurts and loves that inform our wisdom. Thank you for our genuine selves.

Thank you for those we love. Thank you for maturity, forgiveness, and reconciliation.

To be honest, it seems like my genuine gratitude could use a refresher. Since these lists feel tedious recently (or maybe it’s from being ill, or life would benefit from a reset) it could be time to step back. I don’t really know what to do. Maybe a fast for clarity is in order. In the meantime, let’s focus on living well. Please know that you are loved <3

Thank you for the feel of laughter bubbling up.

Thank you for information on responsible home decluttering. Are the resources listed common knowledge? A lot were new to me. I love finding ways to further reduce waste—even old undies and socks can be repurposed!

Thank you for weather cooperating with Sunday rides. Thank you for horses and cows grazing along Tramway and Hwy 313.

Thank you for coyote yips from the arroyo. I’m not sure what they’re talking about but touched to hear them.

Thank you for the practice and courage involved in skillful communication. Think of the suffering they prevent (in ourselves and others) and the chances for happiness they open. When I’m less than skillful it may be impulsivity, prodded by hunger or fatigue. I’d do well to pause for reflection first. Another hindrance is fear. I may not know how to express myself and fear messing up. To step outside that fear and explore it—digging, removed from emotion (what am I afraid of…?)—is key.

Thank you for a friend sharing her Al Anon family experience and the “one day at a time” motto. Experience confirms the usefulness of that approach.

Thank you for friendly faces at the YMCA. Thank you for intervals on the treadmill with songs to energize them. Thank you for warm stretches. Thank you for the joy and expansion of movement. Thank you for health. 

Thank you for how one right thing is never just one thing. Learn to do one thing really right, with honesty, compassion, diligence, intention, examination…and it informs other aspects of life. It quietly influences the world. So one good thing (one good practice?) is all I need to have an impact. That’s how I feel about meditation, journaling, healthy eating, exercise….

And a level of comfort or mastery may be a call not to rest but to climb the ladder’s next rung. I never have to stop. Thus I feed what may be a human impulse for constant expansion. 

We can redirect the historical impulse for more—land, goods, wealth, power—to widen our reach of wellness and expand our consciousness instead. We can strive continually for balance and find new ways to express compassion. 

Thank you for thoughts that plop out while scribbling.

Thank you for repeated thoughts about what humans contribute to the world as a species, ideally. Are we meant to be stewards of the land like Native Americans who managed forests, adding to the health of the environment? Are we meant constantly to grow our awareness and compassion? Are we meant to promote peace around us?

Thank you for the apostle Peter’s relationship with Jesus and for the discussion of it in Works of Love.

Thank you for gifts of religious insights. 

Thank you for thoughts on how to move forward. The gratitudes would be written even if not shared, but is sharing this same sort of entry, over and over, all that worthwhile beyond me? I guess that I would like to be of benefit. Maybe it’s time to try something new.  Or let these questions simmer and a new way will float up when it’s ready. I don’t know. Another possibility is that sameness gives practice in persistence, and others benefit from the consistency. Suggestions are appreciated!

Thank you for when you feel stuck and know it will pass because you’ve felt stuck before and, through effort and ease, gotten somewhere better. 

Thank you for warmer days. Thank you for sunny days. Thank you for clouds.

Thank you for a night off from cooking to scarf a Vegos burrito.

Thank you for Chance and Snoop, a love story! Thank you for tales inspired by Sam. Thank you for sharing them to inspire others.

Thank you for the dreams that keep us alive.

Thank you for future neighbors. Thank you for enough like-minded folks in the park to form a community of care. Thank you for its bohemian bent, for its meditators and vegans, its gardeners and outdoor adventurers. Thank you for the international contingent that would rather have less and live more. Thank you for the lower-income families enjoying greater freedom than the city affords. Thank you for the animal lovers and nature worshippers. Thank you for the old-timers aging healthily in place amid youngsters roaming free. Thank you for the proud owners of long silver locks. Thank you for the givers of warm hugs. Thank you for a region touched by tragedy recovering together. Thank you for the dream I didn’t realize I had coming true.

Thank you for another dream telling me love and happiness aren’t always how we may assume. 

To me a color of happiness is yellow—light and bright. This dream showed several yellows in a less than wonderful context. For instance, a strand of ultra smooth and glowing Barbie hair grew impossibly long from my head. Only it hadn’t actually grown there. It had been attached as I slept (by a schmoozy acquaintance who for some reason also pressured me to sign a contract). 

You could interpret the extension as a symbol of goods or ideas peddled by convention. It weaves them into our heads. Too many of us were raised on those one-size-fits-all prototypes of what to strive for. We were spoon fed notions of happiness, worthiness, love. The genuine deals can be darker. They’re less smooth. And they take time to grow.

Thank you for “What we’re unconscious to silently directs us.” - Deborah Eden Tull

Thank you for dog-eared pages in Works of Love, for the exercise its winding sentences give my thoughts. Thank you for the reason I’m reading it. 

Thank you for my sisters’ strength and insight. Thank you for their resilience.

Thank you for when the part of me that worries about being redundant is met by a part that replies some stuff is okay to repeat.

Thank you for when energy, time, and enthusiasm all point toward productivity, and accomplishments are fueled with awareness of what matters. 

Thank you for a couple talking about how their losses opened space for wins.

Thank you for the natural flow of chats with G in 5C. I hope she finds them rewarding, too.

Thank you for the observation that embracing a “lowered bar” lifestyle may actually prove more productive than the expectations-exceeding-capacities model.

Thank you for warming soups with crusty bread.

Thank you for the distinction between urgency and importance.

Thank you for self-help books that aren’t really self-help books. The ones I mean are about love and living well, but are anchored in history. Does the steadying weight of philosophy and religion render them beyond reproach? Not more so than is any modern bestseller. They do have special depth, though, or maybe character, like the faded patterns of an antique rug. Part of what attracts your eye is the beauty; another is the challenge to discern what’s there. It’s as if the stamp of time’s tread lays bare the appeal and wonder of timeless treasures.

Thank you for efforts to grow.

Thank you for (more corny but heartfelt) hopes for all of us. 

I hope we with unspoken dreams venture from the safety of our cages to explore freedom’s expanse. 

I hope we practice courage to share our hearts vulnerably and that doing so transforms our lives. 

I hope we gain awareness of the threads linking our treatment of self with how we treat others, and see how these tie inextricably to our happiness.

I hope we know positive snowball effects where the more we practice courage, honesty, and compassion, the greater is our self esteem, which heaps on opportunity. 

I hope our relationships with ourselves grow into implicit trust in our truth and intuition, and through this trust we gain integrity to live solid like mountains.

I hope we see our power and hold it sacred.

I hope we realize the fragility and gift of existence (and wellness). 

I hope we nourish ourselves with healthy inputs of all sorts—food, media, friends, environments—with insight that our consumption constitutes who we are.

I hope we grow in the capacity to give and accept love.

Thank you for being here <3

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

Thank you for Peaches seeming improved and for a new diagnosis that’s more manageable. (It went from brain tumor to slipped disc.)

Thank you for thoughts on suffering, illness, and death. Thinking about why an innocent creature like Peaches has to suffer set them rolling. 

I re-wondered an oldie but goodie—if illness and death really have as much inherent suffering as I’d assumed. What if society, conventions, gut reactions, rumination, egos paint them as horrible things when really they’re natural processes that aren’t awful per se? It’s possible nature didn’t make mortality tragic; we did. (Think of the notion of no birth, no death and of the second arrow.)

So I decided to take a different (silly) perspective. Regardless of how long Peaches has left, we’ll make the best of it and keep her as comfy as possible. I’ll view her inevitable transition as graduation from the school of life where we’ve shared a dorm room. Neither of us know where she’ll end up after the strain of final exams, the stress of graduation. But it’s all part of the deal. We’ll relish our remaining moments; if she leaves first, I’ll try to see her as not ending but moving on.

Thank you for fun Bertrand Russell quotes (mined from a less than politically correct book, The Conquest of Happiness). 

On love: “For the love that has been purged by gentleness of all tendency towards tyranny can give a joy more exquisite, more tender, more capable of transmuting the base metal of daily life into the pure gold of mystic ecstasy, than any emotion that is possible to the man still fighting and struggling to maintain his ascendancy in this slippery world.”

On work and purpose: “A little work directed to a good end is better than a great deal of work directed to a bad end, though the apostles of the strenuous life seem to think otherwise.”

On resilience: “A man of adequate vitality and zest will surmount all misfortunes by the emergence after each blow of an interest in life and the world which cannot be narrowed down so much as to make one loss fatal.”

On attaining happiness: “Happiness is not, except in very rare cases, something that drops into the mouth, like a ripe fruit, by the mere operation of fortunate circumstances.” Further, “Happiness must be, for most men and women, an achievement rather than a gift of the gods, and in this achievement effort, both inward and outward, must play a great part.”

On enduring hope: “Hope which is to be unconquerable must be large and impersonal.” And then, “In a thousand ways the failure of purely personal hopes may be unavoidable, but if personal aims have been part of larger hopes for humanity, there is not the same utter defeat when failure comes.”

Thank you for new year’s resolutions. Here are mine for this year: Write more letters and send more messages. Treat people kindly (focus on listening, especially). Dance.

I also found a list of resolutions from 2010 to 2015. They, too, are embarrassing but may be helpful or entertaining to read:

2010 - Don’t pick on you. Be gracious. Smell yummy. Be open, sharing with people (trust). Knit. Dance.

2011 - Help people to feel more comfy around you. Try to feel more comfy around others. Take a dance class. Write 1x/week.

2012 - Appreciate friendships, good times, blessings while they’re here.

2013 - Be more honest. Try to feel more comfy expressing dissent. Meditate more.

2014 - Be gentler to yourself (challenges faced). Approach interactions with a view of what you have to offer others. Surf more.

2015 - Be a servant. Fight climate change.

Thank you for book suggestions from loved ones. The read promises at the very least to add understanding of the one who recommends it.

Thank you for cozy, relaxed, candle-lit holidays.

Thank you for RP’s advice and kindness during our chat Christmas evening. 

Thank you for women supporting women.

Thank you for a quarter, fifty cents, and a dollar. 

Thank you for family. Thank you for sisters who inspire.

Thank you for DA and his family staying warm and safe in a snowstorm.

Thank you for MK teaching by example what it means to give unconditional support and acceptance.

Thank you for LF’s sappy text message read at just the right time. Thank you for her strength with compassion. Thank you for our maturity and friendship evolving.

Thank you for taps of raindrops that don’t clamor but make themselves known. 

Thank you for shelter.

Thank you for the opportunity of a new year to take stock of the old and make fresh starts. Let’s look with compassion on the past. Its lessons will equip us to thrive. 

Wishing you a 2023 of wellness and progress! Please enjoy rest to sustain your endeavors and forgiveness as cushion when they fall short. May your heart’s truth find expression. Set free with vulnerability, accepted in love, our truths will mend us and the world <3

Sisters on the road to Lower Hamlet, Plum Village 2018

Thank you for a new OG self-help book with fun quotes like this: “A society composed of men and women who do not bow too much to the conventions is a far more interesting society than one in which all behave alike” (Bertrand Russel).

Thank you for open spaces.

Thank you for freebies declined.

Thank you for pickled radishes dyed with beets.

Thank you for spices.

Thank you for healthcare.

Thank you for rhythms in songs.

Thank you for rhythms in life.

Thank you for fragrant trees.

Thank you for lasting awareness with determination to remain clear of DM3. Doing so supports healing. 

Thank you for the perspective distance brings.

Thank you for hope and faith in love and humanity.

Thank you for the beauty of the unknown. 

Thank you for all of us enduring hardships, if only because we have solidarity in our suffering and efforts to make it through.

Thank you for questions, even (maybe especially) ones without clear answers.

Thank you for openness to ambiguity when loose ends don’t tie up. We can craft stories to give certainty. And it’s easy to take those stories for truth. The best in me would rather not pretend less complicated narratives are real, though. The best in me embraces the mess. 

Thank you for guidance from Thich Nhat Hanh’s talks. Thank you for his humility and imperfect English. Thank you for his soft “milkshake” voice. Thank you for the grainy videos that preserve his gems. Thank you for the simple profundity of his lessons. Several helped me this week. 

Thank you for wisdom with love (like his), that pulls me through default states of darkness and anger almost like it’s lifting me against gravity. (I guess that default mode is why they call those states “negative habit patterns.”)

Thank you for practices to make a habit of walking the less habitual path, through suffering into wellness. Efforts to diminish unhealthy habit patterns while growing healthy ones must persist. It won’t stick to hear an inspirational talk once in a while or visit a retreat center for vacation or read a text start to finish. Active study is necessary. It has to be ongoing, even repetitive. The principles engrained and practiced will have an impact. 

Some efforts to make this stuff stick are writing little notes (like these) and sharing them.

Thank you for snippets from the talk, “A simple way to heal yourself”: 

• Compassion is born from understanding of suffering.

• The energy that can help you look at suffering, listen to suffering, and embrace suffering is called mindfulness.

• If you know how to suffer, you suffer much less.

• Compassion should be directed to yourself first. If you don’t know how to be compassionate to yourself, it’s very difficult to be compassionate to another person.

Thank you for snippets from talk, “taking care of anger”:

• “It is insight that transforms our affllictions.” 

• Steps in transforming our anger through mindfulness:

  • Recognizing our anger

  • Embracing our anger

  • Looking deeply (into our anger, ourselves, our situation…) 

  • Getting insight

  • Getting transformation, healing, and freedom

Thank you for snippets from talk, “loving speech and deep listening,” and the determination to practice deep listening in future conversations.

• How to listen with mindfulness of compassion: 

  • “I am listening to him with only one purpose: to help him to suffer less. Therefore, even if he says wrong things, if he is bitter, if he blames, I still continue to listen.”

  • “Breathe in and out mindfully during the whole session of listening, and remember just one thing. Listening to that person, I only have one purpose: Give him a chance to suffer less. Just remember one thing throughout the session. And you can tell yourself that his misunderstanding, his judgement based on prejudices and misunderstanding, in a few days I will have a chance to give him, to offer him some informations so that he can correct his perception. But not now. Now is only to listen.” 

• Your energy of compassion will keep you safe. “If compassion is there, what the other person is saying, even with a lot of wrong perception, even with bitterness, anger, blames, accusations, you are safe. Because you are protected by compassion. The best protection is the protection with compassion.”

Thank you for holiday sharing. Wishing you warmth, wellness, and peace this season! May your life and love thrive in 2023.

Thank you for resilience.

Thank you for meals that cook in the time it takes to boil noodles or pasta.

Thank you for these garlic chili noodles.

Thank you for Peaches’ episodes dissipating. Either the medicine is easing symptoms or her body is recovering. 

Thank you for healing through healthy lifestyles.

Thank you for rescue dogs and the people they rescue.

Thank you for Verbena the Dracaena’s new leaves.

Thank you for repeated efforts to be present.

Thank you for half-Lebanese sisters embracing our backgrounds and each other.

Thank you for Sister C’s pomegranates and Sister A’s lemons. 

Thank you for the feel of wind on faces and its sound against ears.

Thank you for the magic of new growth whether it’s sprouts in a mason jar or hair on a head or leaves on a plant or perspectives on a challenge…

Thank you for focus on growth encouraging it to continue. It would be useful for me to remember that what I focus on, I get more of.

Thank you not just for lessons learned but ones committed to memory, because a lesson is more impactful when retained. Thank you for mental notebooks for reference.

Thank you for a splash of rose water in a berry smoothie. Yum!

Thank you for when we are able to pursue the long view: we eschew the quick fix of short-term options. We invite pain and welcome truth. We trust. Then, instead of it crippling us, it graces us with the foundations for contentment. 

Thank you for visions and dreams. Please have faith in yours.

Thank you for Br Phap Huu on The Way Out Is In podcast (episode 42) saying that learning to be still is an art. Thank you for Jo Confino sharing, “If we let go of control, then we allow life to show up.” Thank you for spiritual leaders like Thich Nhat Hanh who promote stillness.

Thank you for when we cooperate with our better selves by surrendering to life. I’m not sure how the surrendering works exactly. I think it involves releasing personal agendas and following where we’re led. That one, too, is fuzzy. It could mean living not based on worry, fear, desire, etc., and instead simply doing what seems right at any given moment without consideration of consequences. I often trick myself about what seems right. (Deep down, part of me knows.) Of course, there can be multiple rights. But there are also definite unhealthies. With less fear, with more trust, with mindfulness, I won’t trick myself as often. The inner voice (truth) will start to sound louder. Is that what surrendering means—letting go of the static so the wisdom comes through?

Thank you for quiet nights safe and warm inside. Wishing you comfort, peace, and safety, too.

Thank you for Peaches not holding a grudge. Advice to self: Remember all the times you’ve been forgiven. Keep those memories handy when someone wrongs you.

Thank you for forgiveness and unconditional love.

Thank you for contraries to competition: cooperation, collaboration, teamwork, inclusiveness, sharing…

Thank you for family reunions.

Thank you for Slomo “Frankly, at this point, I’m just trying to get to the end of my life without becoming an asshole again.” What wisdom!

Thank you for Peaches’ love. She may be having serious health issues so I’ll probably spend less time online, at least for a bit, and more with her. 

Thank you for the kindness of the staff at the vet’s office over the weekend. 

Thank you for dogs and cats being loved on in the waiting room. 

Thank you for the magical eighties/nineties vibes there. 

Thank you for the professionalism, knowledge, and unhurried attentiveness of the doctor. 

A morning spent at the vet’s office showed an exceptionally caring side of this town. So thank you for a wait in a packed little room that exposed me to patient caregivers treating their charges with tenderness and each other with cordiality.

Thank you for KG feeding her plants compost tea and sharing her personal stories.

Thank you for the house order almost ready to submit.

Thank you for a lesson learned the hard way after I refused to heed it for a good while. Love really does sometimes look like letting go.

Thank you always for the work we do to heal.

Thank you for sprouting and fermenting as teachers of patience. They also teach to follow what’s right and then to let go and trust the process.

Thank you for winter being the Sunday of the seasons.

Thank you for a more precious (early) Christmas gift than ever imagined.

Thank you for life’s lovely surprises (LP’s phrase).

Thank you for family. 

Thank you for colorful friends of varied ages, backgrounds, genders, religions, and values.

Thank you for openness to wisdom regardless of its source.

Thank you for the hungry-angry-lonely-tired (HALT) question from twelve-step that I learned on the Rich Roll Podcast with Whitney Cummings. That guy is such an Al Anon proponent. From what I’ve heard, it helps.

Thank you for migraines dramatically subsiding after addressing a caffeine dependence. My energy feels smoother. It’s also freeing to rediscover the ability to do hard things without a chemical boost.

Thank you for the comparison of how frustrated and crappy it feels before writing in the journal (There’s nothing to say!) with how relieved and happy it seems after. Today’s entry surfaced doubts about the choice to live at the park. Exploring those doubts increased my confidence in the choice. 

Thank you for how we can never know know if our decisions for the future are right. After all, none of us truly sees beyond the present. That’s okay, though. We still can make choices that lead us into the future with a straight spine, clear conscience, and easy smile.

Thank you for the solemness of the term “lavatorial jokes” contrasted with what it denotes.

Thank you for hygge season.

Thank you for leaf flurries.

Thank you for exhilarating bike adventures on unfamiliar routes.

Thank you for BW sending a pic of her with Cam and Echo. Thank you for her open door policy. Being near her made my life happier. It made me want to be nicer. She lives cheerfully and honestly, despite hardships, with grace.

Thank you for a future home with open doors. Thank you for dreams of garden-fresh food. Thank you for role models living their dreams “alone” yet surrounded by the love they’ve invested in all they do.

Thank you for the support of future nextdoor neighbors on either side. Thank you for their doggos.

Thank you for more of Marcus Aurelius’ advice to self: “Every time you lose your temper, make sure you have readily available the thought that anger is not a manly quality and that in fact gentleness and calmness are more manly, qua more human.”

And, “Fortitude, strength, and courage are attributes of a calm and gentle man, not one who’s irascible and easily offended, because the closer a man is to being impassive, the closer he is also to being a man of power” (Meditations 11.18, Waterfield translation).

I wonder if the emperor would have agreed with the use of “impassive.” My hope is that the original term was more like “equanimous.” Man(ly) can be interchanged with woman(ly), too.

Thank you for dim lights in the evening to help feel tired at the right time.

Thank you for the next kitchen adventure: broccoli sprouts! 

Thank you for greens—spinach, kale, arugula, cabbage, chard…. Thank you for fresh, juicy cabbage to ferment. Who knew it could be juicy? I recently found out.

Thank you for vegan junk food munchies.

Thank you for improvements in setting boundaries to protect wellbeing. The trick is to stay both loving and unyielding. That’s not my reality, simply the goal. It is an honor if “easygoing” applies to me. Yet with wellbeing on the line, inflexibility is preferred.

Thank you for memories of NYC as a comfy place. The public transit and walkability helped. A metro card is like the key to the city. And you never have to drive or find parking. 

Thank you doubly for student tickets to the New York City Ballet when Maria Kowroski was a principal dancer. Thank you for Shambards.

Thank you for wordless art tapping deeper than words into our emotions.

Thank you for an awesome roomie at the Gershwin House. Her warmth and wisdom touched me. We gave one another space. (Well, she gave me space.) It’s uplifting to think she’s in the world.

Thank you for sisters.

Thank you for volumes yet to be lived.

Thank you for when we have awareness of present and future opportunities for the good stuff that gives life meaning (connections, healing, joy, growth…).

Thank you for present moments relished and the memories they birth, like immortal souvenirs that feed our hearts the warmth of life.

Thank you for this reminder: “For our body to be healthy, our heart must pump a constant flow of blood. For our relationships to be healthy, we need a constant flow of mindful communication.” (Thich Nhat Hanh)

Thank you for efforts to practice communication and for forgiveness of non-efforts. 

Thank you for weekly phone meetings with GK to discuss the new house. Thank you for his patience.

Thank you for check-ins with RP. She also has a Woolsey lot and is planning a home with a small footprint. It’s comforting to go through the process with her. Thank you for how her lifelong learning teaches and inspires.

Thank you for regular texts from AH even though I don’t feel worthy. I admire that she stays real and loving all at once—she would only tell me what I want to hear if it’s true to her.

Thank you for a hand-written card in the mail from JL. Thank you for the example of how to be a supportive friend. Thank you for the care she gives uplifting those around her. Thank you for the inspiration of her and Z’s love story. Thank you for her integrity and independence. Thank you for her relationships with her little guys.

Thank you for trustworthy friends I feel safe near and happy to be influenced by. Hopefully they feel ok with me, too. (I could do better.)

Thank you for strong, tactful, dignified women in real life and the media who serve as my role models. 

Thank you for the next fermentation adventure: sauerkraut! 

Thank you for a free mirror to face a longtime phobia. Thank you for the happiness that comes with movement.

Thank you for self forgiveness and other forgiveness. 

Thank you for a web of features incompatible with shame (e.g., vulnerability, respectful communication, self esteem…). As I build the incompatible features, my shame naturally diminishes.

Thank you for the dexterity of hands. I wonder how human hands seem from a dog’s perspective. Maybe like huge wiggly alien appendages.

Thank you for Peaches watching me on the yoga mat.

Thank you for the cuteness in her movements.

Thank you for the watery self-talk of Marcus Aurelius: ”Dig inside yourself. Inside you, there’s a wellspring of goodness, which is capable of gushing all the time, as long as you keep digging.” (Meditations, 7.59)

Another of his aqueous metaphors is similar to Thich Nhat Hanh talking about salt in a river. Here is the emperor’s version: “Suppose someone standing by a clear, sweet spring were to curse it: it just keeps right on bringing drinkable water bubbling up to the surface.” He continues, “Even if he throws mud or dung in it, before long the spring disperses the dirt and washes it out, leaving no stain.” (8.51)

Following that metaphor is advice to himself on how to be a clear spring. “Preserve your self-reliance at every hour, and your kindness, simplicity, and morality.” (Thay’s similar advice is to cultivate equanimity or upeskha.)

Thank you for gentle persistence when my heart feels more like a sippy cup than a river or spring.

Thank you for impatience corrected with faith. We don’t always heal on our timelines. There may be lessons in the healing that we’re still figuring out. So we do well to stay with the process. 

Thank you for kindness to ourselves and others despite injuries. If one who loves me has done something to hurt me, the pain emanating from her to me may have been only a small fraction of what burned inside her. A loving thing I can do for her is to recover from my injuries.

Let’s go a step farther and say that anyone at all who has committed aggressions against us, even if they don’t know us, must be suffering. Their suffering is reason not to dissolve the boundaries that protect us but to relinquish our bitterness in favor of understanding.

Thank you for when words on a page become practices in real life. It’s a lot easier to say something kind than it is to mean it, to stand behind the talk. But sometimes loving and honest words—written, spoken, thought—are a good first step. May they guide diligent efforts to live in accord with our hearts.

Thank you for the role of imagination in empathy and compassion. Imagining another’s situation from his or her perspective while keeping in mind the limits of my vision increases understanding, which is integral to love. 

Thank you for crisp chilled apple slices to cap off dinner.

Thank you for a snaggletooth (Peaches’) that still mesmerizes.

Thank you for the Faces Places documentary with Agnes Varda and JR. Loving artists humbly embracing their weirdness make me happy.

Thank you for interesting quotes from Rich Roll Podcasts: “Every itch not scratched is a lesson in compassion” (That’s Brad Stulberg citing an unnamed source). I think some unscratched itches end up a futile practice in avoidance or “self discipline” but still appreciate his perspective—it’s about letting those itches be, in a loving way. 

Matt Long shared on a different episode, “You don’t achieve true success by yourself, whether that’s happiness or financial success. . . .  I’d be wary of the person who says, ‘I did this by myself. I’m self made.’” 

Thank you again for Meditations by Marcus Aurelius. It’s just candid journal entries. How heartening to glimpse the inner world of a historical figure who dedicated his life to self betterment. I may not agree with every specific but respect his efforts.

Thank you for similarities between Buddhist teachings and some of the beliefs expressed by Marcus Aurelius (many of them Stoic). One example—I’m not sure it resonates with Stoicism—is that your mind will come to resemble your frequently repeated thoughts: your mind takes on the hue of your thoughts. He concludes that you should “dye your mind” with ideas. To me it’s similar to the Buddhist notion of mindful or right consumption and the premise that we consume even our own thoughts.

Thank you for efforts to seek nourishing environments, words, sounds, sights, attitudes, and to navigate around their contraries. It became clear early on how absorbent my shell is. Thus care was required in exposing it to the right influences.

Thank you for daily journal entries that help me process life in a healthier way.

Thank you for perspective on the challenges of my childhood and adolescence. It used to seem like a barrier to have struggled young. My youth’s turmoil felt shatter-your-being-and-life-view rough. It grazed death and embraced darkness. It heaved with losses. What I thought of as good unraveled into bad and morphed into me. 

Of course coming out the other side didn’t guarantee ease. And healing can take a lifetime, so I never really made it to that other side, in some sense. The thing I can say is that I may be better equipped to handle difficulties after painstakingly sifting through the shards of my shattered youth. I’m lucky to have felt broken early and grateful to keep lessons dear. 

We’re probably all at least a little fractured. Some of us haven’t yet had our pieces scattered helter-skelter. Our cracks, hidden, may allow us to move “normally”—blindly—through our entire lives. Why? Because we have the luxury to deny what’s merely hidden, and ignoring problems is a human thing to do. That’s why I’m grateful my cracks tore asunder. I had to face them. They left me no choice.

Thank you for a new lesson: I am not a martyr. When I think I’m sacrificing my wellbeing to help someone, that is a red flag. I may actually be using “help” as an excuse to escape my own suffering in the short term by acting in a way that disrespects myself long term. In other words, my decision to “martyr” myself for another may stem from selfish attachment (or from aversion to discomfort). Sometimes the healthiest way to help is, in some respects, not self sacrifice but sacrifice of attachments and aversions. 

Another lesson: If I accept someone being less than respectful to me, then I am not doing him any good, either. If he condones me subjecting myself to unhealthy circumstances to please or be with him, that is not right thinking. What is good for me also will be good for my loved ones. What is good for them will not be hurtful or disrespectful to me.  

Thank you for saved voicemails from my dad and a snippet of him singing. 

Thank you for saved voice memos. A surreal dream told half asleep at 3 AM stands out. Have you ever recorded yourself in a stupor, solemnly recounting wacky narratives from your unconscious? It can be an entertaining listen down the road.

Thank you for Sister True Dedication sharing on the Ten Percent Happier podcast what Thich Nhat Hanh would advise. As I remember, it’s ok to be angry for a little while, but after a certain period (a day?) we must address our anger so it doesn’t, I don’t know, fester inside or eat us up or whatever. 

Thank you for simple recognition of anger without further action. With faith in the practice of acknowledging and letting anger be felt—with acceptance of bitter parts—transformation is possible.

Thank you for this passage from Marcus Aurelius’ Meditations: If someone can prove me wrong and show me that something I thought or did was mistaken, I’ll gladly change, because my goal is the truth and the truth has never harmed anyone. (6.21) 

Thank you for unshakeable faith in truth.

And thank you for a happy effect since re-reading Meditations—i.e., the (fleeting) thought that maybe life is good and I don’t need to fret. What if there is providence in the universe or some sort of divine reason overseeing everything? Then it’s up to me to trust that Reason and live in alignment with it, which is doable. I can let go of worry. What’s handed to me in life doesn’t matter. I only see a small portion of the overall story, anyway: our entire modern civilization is only a fragment. 

By trusting nature’s goodness I have more ease. The bigger story (the one I can’t fathom) is purposeful. Situations that befall me throughout life lose relevance. Even the seemingly awesome happenings aren’t as important. What I do with what’s handed to me is the only thing that truly gives value. I increase that value by living so that my reason and the actions that result from it align with a higher Reason or nature. Matching up my little reason with big Reason harmonizes my life with the providence of the universe, and fulfillment results. (For the Stoics, I think the little reason entailed practicing wisdom, moderation, courage, and justice—their four cardinal virtues.)

Thank you for diverse philosophies on living a good life. What beliefs inform how you live and nourish your well being? How do your values sync up with the ins and outs of your daily life, the big stuff and the little details, in each moment over time?

Thank you for encouragement to one’s self. It helps to have yourself as your cheerleader and support system.

Thank you for relationships we cultivate with ourselves that transform self hatred. Stubborn efforts and forgiveness help.

Thank you for our responses to life’s blows mitigating their impact and in some cases transforming it.

Thank you for the connection between self loathing and arrogance, because it means I can address both together. They’re jointly tied to either-or, individualistic thinking. When the stark individual extremes melt into a collective gray, I realize, one, that I’m no better than people who do wrong. (My arrogance subsides.) And two, that I’m no worse than people who do right. (My self-loathing subsides.) I do good, and I cause hurt. I falter and succeed. That’s human.

Exploring connections shows we are universally tied to circumstances, histories, nature, habits. If I look deeply, I discern my regrets in your seemingly unrelated wrongdoings. And I perceive my triumphs when I view your success. Further, “success” or “failure” is never the whole story. They’re a package deal, too. Often a regret informs an achievement. Or what seems a success instead causes suffering. 

Mistakes and suffering give (shared) lessons on the path to well being. None of us walk that path alone. No one stumbles without obstacles, even if they’re within or invisible. Likewise, no one rises without help. So remorse needn’t devolve to shame and self loathing; victory or virtue needn’t overshoot to pride and arrogance. Practice looking brings equanimity. (It’s just a thought. My head is starting to hurt so maybe these ramblings are a little kooky.)

Thank you for my dad’s support years after he left us.

Thank you for ideas while meditating.

Thank you for Peaches’ surgery and recovery going well, and for the professionals who gave her care.

Thank you for huge, nourishing breakfasts.

Thank you for a sunny day.

Thank you for a fridge filled with whole foods.

Thank you for clear skin.

Thank you for clean water abundantly available.

Thank you for early morning routines.

Thank you for how good it feels to meditate.

Thank you for houseplants adding joy and calm when we rest our gaze on them.

Thank you for large windows to let in bright sunlight.

Thank you for determination to love.

Thank you for rest.

Thank you for, “The energy of stopping is very powerful” (Thich Nhat Hanh). I’d add that awareness (of breath, thoughts, feelings, sensations, etc.) makes stopping not simply ceasing one thing but also taking up another.

Thank you for the smell of coffee.

Thank you for memories of Paris.

Thank you for it’s never too late. The past two years (mostly in CA) have seen me establish more—and more genuine—social ties than ever before. This happened without pushing or purpose. It’s a stark contrast to the days (esp. in grad school) when social anxiety consumed me. Eye contact with male peers sparked embarrassment. I could barely speak in class or at work. Social gatherings terrified me. And I constantly pressured myself to be less shy. 

Again, focusing not on the problem but on self-care practices and nourishing environments (plus having luck) helped. My MO shifted from avoidance to approach. I became more accepting of me, which gave ease around others; the receding need to quell turmoil left space for curiosity toward lives and experiences. Social anxiety therapy did not accomplish that. Nor did pressuring myself to change. Seeking general wellness through a variety of specific practices helped.

Thank you for when we have the peace of mind to walk tall.

Thank you for unfulfilled dreams. Life looks nothing like I thought it should. I’ve received countless enormous gifts that weren’t asked for, but a lot of what I used to want, what society and ego told me were important, I never received. With those disappointments came a nudge toward gratitude for what I did have and a call to accept more responsibility for my happiness—I’m glimpsing a truer meaning of it.

Thank you for the plain talk of Dr. Robynne Chutkan on the Rich Roll Podcast, particularly about the link between medications and the state of our gut microbiome.

Thank you for fermented foods and diverse plant foods, for how their consumption increases our physical and mental wellness.

Thank you for when we appreciate the times we’re not going under. To be afloat in rough waters is a feat.

Thank you for the saying, “This is a happy moment,” that Sister True Dedication shared on the Ten Percent Happier podcast. 

Thank you for happy little moments to pin with that phrase: morning cuddles with Peach, watching her sniff leaves, tucking into a perfect sweet potato, feeling the breeze on my face, running up the arroyo, seeing sunshine reflected off wings, listening to cheerful music, being enveloped in soft sheets…

Thank you if the above saying helps give a name to your happy moments, so you appreciate them better throughout the day. I hope those moments grow.