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We are in the First Quarter Moon Phase right now. The First Quarter Moon Phase is a time when half of the moon’s face is lit up.

Are you lit up?

The daylight hours are increasing; hours of darkness decreasing. When we start to get ready for bed around 6:30pm I can see the light of the moon reflecting into the night. It’s almost like a little added extra in the early evening – a lagniappe, as they say in NOLA.

During this time it’s common to feel lit up, as the moon is. Energy may increase, you may feel called to make a decision or take action. If seeds were planted, or wishes made, during the New Moon, this is the time when they’ll start to rattle, shattering the husk of the seed and reaching for light.

If you didn’t make New Moon wishes, you can go back (or Re:Set) to previous intentions (or Re:Solutions).

Was there external resistance? Did things get a little challenging? Did you crumple and decide to take a break?

OK. That’s normal. But what are you going to do about it?

While doing my Morning Pages today, a thought bubbled up: How much time do you think you have?

Oh my goodness, if that isn’t a kick in the pants I don’t know what is.

I have grey at my temples. Gravity is having its way with the Twin Skin around my belly. My bum knee isn’t bouncing back the way it once did.

How much time do you think you have?

If you believe in reincarnation, then I suppose you can rest at peace. You have this one and many many more to develop your soul and spiritual sides though that doesn’t mean you should throw in the towel, give up, or procrastinate on the dreams or goals that arose in you during this lifetime.

But if you don’t believe in reincarnation, then what are you doing? Can you look at yourself in the mirror, aligned spirit, mind, and body, and agree that you’ve done all you wanted to do and there is nothing more? Have you fulfilled all yearnings, desires, and dreams?

 

I know I haven’t.

But Life is what happens when you are busy making plans. Children, or you, get sick. Businesses get sold or fail. People get married or die. Garbage needs to be taken out, dishes washed, toilets cleaned, floors mopped.

But there’s got to be more than that. There has to be a heartbeat, a thread, an ambition or flight of fancy that gets you up and gets you doing. Do you know what it is? Or do you believe that those days are behind you? You’re too old, too tired, too poor, (too afraid) to dream again.

 

I know. Me too.

 

But there has got to be more than helping with Spanish homework and walking the dog, taco night, and movies. I didn’t come this far to only come this far. I need the rush and thrill of the roller coaster again. I’ve got to climb.

So I’m pursuing and persisting.

I’m putting together a Spring Equinox 6-week program – Re:Fresh.

 

What do you think? REady to join me?

 

More details on March 2, 2023.

About twelve years ago I was cycling through another tough time. Wheel of Fortune-style, life had been up and now life was down.

It was 2011. Our daughters were four years old. The business we had started was just two years old. We had critical acclaim, and many requests to work with us, interview us, meet us, and speak with us. We were well-known and respected. I loved the work we were doing, the people we were surrounded by, the energy, the place, the spirit, and the vigor.

That was on the surface. Behind the scenes, my husband and I quarreled regularly though mostly we seethed in silence. I imagine he felt disregarded and deserted by me. At least that is how I felt about him. The financial stress and responsibility were staggering.

I regularly contemplated ending my life, thinking of different ways to do it that would hurt the fewest number of people. I was cutting. I felt trapped and consumed. As the owner of the business, I felt I couldn’t speak about my situation out of respect for our employees and the business’s reputation. Not wanting to imperil the business I suffered, mostly, in silence. I lacked support for the severity of my situation.

I confided regularly to our general manager. She had struggled with her husband and emerged from that relationship knowing herself better, stronger, and more self-assured. She recommended a very good therapist to me.

I knew I needed to see someone; a professional who would listen without judgment. I was raised Catholic and used to the idea of revealing my sins to a candid professional. But as I learned the details, it went from being essential and urgent to a frivolous whim.

She was too far away! Her office was located in a neighborhood far from my work or home, going in completely the opposite direction of all my obligations.

Hmmm…

It was expensive! How could I afford what she charged?! We were struggling financially as it was.

Hmmm…

What if it didn’t work? And how long was it going to take anyway?! I didn’t have all the time in the world! I was a very busy person. My presence was critical for the functioning of my family and farm.

Hmmm…

What if my husband said no? We were fighting as it was. I didn’t want to add one more thing into the mix.

Hmmm…

 

All of those reasons were legitimate. But they were also excuses.

I was coming closer to the idea of ending my life. I was hurting myself and my husband and likely others close to me with my erratic and unstable behavior. I was in need and desperate.

And desperate times call for desperate measures.

So I took the plunge and started, what would become, the biggest shift in my life.

But like most shifts, like seasonal changes, they happen so gradually that you don’t notice. You start to hear and notice things, that you didn’t before; ideas, thoughts, words, and impulses. Curious, you pursue and desist, drawn toward it yet repelled. It can be nerve-wracking to change, even when we want it, embrace it, or are desperate. Like the seed in the ground, once an idea is planted it will grow if you tenderly safeguard it.

 

It was the ability to sit across someone who wouldn’t judge me, call me a sinner, and require repentance. Yes, I wanted to change; I was remorseful. I needed encouragement. I just needed someone’s presence, to feel that someone was categorically in my corner and would be no matter if I retreated or advanced.

The eyeball can’t see itself and I needed someone else to see me. She did and she does. I still need that safe place where I can say anything, and admit to anything with someone who has seen me through the wheel of fortune, up and down. She can bring me back when I’m on the brink or embolden me to fly.

 

Not everyone is ready for therapy. It takes a tremendous amount of courage to actively face yourself. There are beautiful things in there – generosity, loyalty, patience, peace. There are also some not-so-cute things – envy and jealousy are my top ones, the worms, insects, and spiders that wriggle underneath the burlap sack that is the Oogie Boogie Man. That me too.

 

But I’m endeavoring for whole, healed, beauty.

To be holistic is to integrate all parts of yourself, even the ones you don’t like. All elements are examined, my mind, body, spirit, my environment, relationships, thinking and stories, habits, and behaviors, and more. What do I tell myself? Why? How do I hold myself back? What do I resist and why? What do I want and why?

Healing can come from the integration of the parts into the whole. I don’t have to hate my saddlebags or my jealous, impatient nature. I accept the jowls on my face and my propensity to overthink the same way I accept my silliness and sense of humor.

All of that is what makes me beautiful – isn’t that a One Direction song? Excuse me while I go check. Deep diving, one of my most regular habits can be either good or bad depending on the moment (I digressed for twenty minutes y’all! The lyrics are pretty close: Check it here for an afternoon bop.)

But maybe the thing is not to judge them either way. Like the old zen koan, good or bad, maybe. We don’t know. They exist like this desk exists, like this notebook, like this trashcan. It’s very popular right now to say that everything happens for a reason, or that even the bad is good. That’s a fine way to look at things sometimes. After all, things were terrible for me and they got better.

But things aren’t perfect. They constantly flex and flux. External circumstances mess with my meditative calm and I reel. Other times things are stable, and I feel on top of the world, Bay-bee!

One of the constants is therapy, weekly, regular, out of pocket, with the same person, for over ten years. Why? Most insurance companies want to use Cognitive Behavior Therapy to teach old dogs new tricks and move on.

I pay out of pocket because this is an investment in myself and in my family. I’m trying to heal multi-generational trauma. I learn how to communicate better with my children and community. I know when to hold ’em and when to fold ’em.

I strenuously recommend it if you want more peace and true healing in your life. If you are tired of stuffing it down, sweeping it under the rug, and pretending like your pain is fine (it’s not), I suggest getting a referral from someone you trust. The live you save will be your own.

 

xoxoxo

 

All is well. It’s an extra day off from school and work today that I plan to spend reading and readying for the week. You know, batch cooking basics, looking ahead at calendar items, cleaning the refrigerator, sorting socks – the usual things I do on the weekend that I was able to shift to today.

It’s a day for resetting. A day to prepare.

 

Imbolc can be an overlooked season. I think that stems from the feeling that there is little to no “there” there.

The season isn’t as showy or exciting as summer with its vacations and long, light-filled days, and warm weather.

It isn’t as glittering or magical as winter with its holidays and abundance.

Autumn offers the marvel of colored leaves and costumes. Spring encourages us with new blooms and flushes of green.

But Imbolc? It’s just kind of there, a grey slog we have to get through.

In many places, it is still cold and dreary. Trees are barren, and the earth may be grey or brown, sodden and muddy with old snow. Weather is erratic or steady.

There is a tremendous amount of anticipation for the next thing but we don’t give much though to the spiritual preparations of the next thing.

Are we ready? Are we ready to grow, flourish with glee, blossom, and change this year?

Or do we feel like our surroundings? Uninspired, grey, cold, and old.

 

Farmers in very cold climates take this time to ponder and prepare; what will they plant? Like the Earth, the farmer rests during hard winter. But at this point, they know that Spring comes close. Mentally, they plot their fields, savoring seed catalogs and dream; they visualize their year. They dream of Lammas and the Autumnal Equinox when they will reap.

 

But for now, in Imbolc, they start. Perhaps seeds are planted in greenhouses. Greens may be started in the ground, covered to incur warmth and protection. Last-minute choices are procured from purveyors.

They prepare.

They anticipate the effort it takes to plant, tend, and harvest. They prepare mentally for the calling.

They know new life is coming. When it comes it will burst and bound. Once the seed stirs it cannot be stopped.

 

How is it for you?

 

Are there any seeds stirring? Are you still dreaming through your dreariness?

Do you believe there is something next? Or are you resigned, or too tired? Might you stay as you are where you are? Have you paused or have you stopped? Are you blocked? Do you wonder, why bother? Things won’t change anyway. I’ve tried and failed, and I don’t want to, I can’t, try again.

I can relate. And when that happens to me, when those feelings rise, I notice them and am grateful for them. They are my deep spirit, welling up inside, breaking through like a tender sprout through dark Earth, reaching for the warmth and light of the sun.

They are a Break Through.

I’ve already Resolved this year. So now, in Imbolc, it’s time to Reset.

That usually starts with my body, my physical vessel, the temple for my spirit. It’s cold and sluggish – like the weather – which leads to lethargy.

 

My knee flared up about a month ago, so I’ve laid off. But there are other exercises I can do for the upper body. Any exercise at all will increase blood flow to my brain and extremities, strengthen muscles, and improve my joints. And I know that exercise helps my mental fitness.

The Things haven’t really exercised since Samhain, when deep darkness descends and time changes, all motivation is lost and habits dissolve as our bodies adjust to the abrupt time shift and our attention diverts to the holidays.

Gyms are havens for germs during the Winter, so we stay away, opting for walks or at-home exercises.

But I notice that if I don’t take them right after school, if we return home before going to walk or the gym, I’ve lost the game. The comfort of home, and our habits, pull us in. Couches and beds magnetize us. No amount of cajoling or bribing can alter the course and I avoid the Sisyphean Feat. It’s enough of a challenge to self-motivate, let alone goad 2 fifteen-year-olds.

 

So, here we are – a long weekend, a Monday, and they say never miss a Monday. Start Strong. I’ve alerted The Things to the change in the season. They don’t have school today so they can’t claim to be so tired.

It begins, again, today – The Reset.

The Gym today and Wednesday. Tomorrow, a walk with the dog at the beach. A self-defense martial arts class on Saturday. And that’s it. An easy entry point. We aren’t going to Crush It. There are no plans to Hustle the Muscle. We won’t Endure Pain for Gain.

None. Of. That.

We are simply going to get started; a very low entry point. Easy. Minimal. We are just going to get there.

Its the New Moon today, a perfect time to start this habit. For the next Moon cycle, we are going to focus on creating this new habit.

We will remember to get out our gym clothes. I’ll bring a pre-workout snack and bottles of water. Fifteen minutes of cardio warm-up and then strength training followed by stretching.

Gentle. Delicate. Fragile. Just like a seed sprouting, we are going to reclaim the habit of caring for our bodies. That’s how we will Start Strong.

Like rivers and oceans, we are going to move.

Some may disagree with this approach to the Reset. That’s OK. They aren’t me. They don’t know The Things. The don’t know what we need.

 

What we need is to shake off the lethargy on the path to Refreshing and Revitalizing.

But you can’t jump to Revitalizing. We often fail if we increase too quickly.

Baby Steps. Grace. Determination. Heart.

That’s what I’m going for here – for The Things, for me, and for you.

 

Still got your notebook? No. That’s OK, grab whatever is closest to you that you can write on. It might be the back of an agenda, a bill, or an envelope. Anything is good.

Ask yourself, on this New Moon – what do you want? What could you reset over the next four weeks? During this moon cycle, what would you like to make space for?

Perhaps it’s reading at night before bed, going to a museum, trying a new recipe, rearranging your living room, or cleaning out the sock drawer.

You won’t know until you ask yourself.

In the mornings, I write three pages a la Julia Cameron’s The Artist’s Way, Morning Pages. Lately I’ve been starting the pages like this:

 

 

hello love

hello

how are you?

 

 

And then I begin. Whatever comes up for me comes up because I’ve taken some time to ask myself how I am. Sometimes, I am the only person that day to ask myself how I am doing. This is how I discover and uncover.

Can you take ten minutes to find out for yourself what needs a Reset?

I encourage you to try.

xoxox

In Latin America, February 14 is celebrated as Día del Amor y la Amistad; the Day of love and friendship.

What’s nice about this is that it opens the range of people you can celebrate and the connotation.

It seems that here in the U.S. we celebrate Valentine’s Day as a day of romantic love, or what the ancient Greeks called Eros. 

We have a culture of rom-coms and other media that fixate on the couple getting together, fairy tales that start with once upon a time and end with happily ever after. We are attracted to these archetypes as they’ve been instilled in us since we were children. I mean, who doesn’t want happily ever after?

Think about it: Happily Ever After. My goodness, no more pain, fear, or sorrow – just happiness. It appeals.

We look for that happiness outside of ourselves. Inside we are roiling messes – at least I am.

I’m rarely on social media anymore. I can’t bear the switch that happens in my head as I look at someone’s highlight reel and imagine it as their regular life. Trips to Paris, gigantic and sparkly engagement rings, taut and trim bodies, gorgeous romantic partners, fabulous careers and cars, and high-achieving children send me to the ash heap. Good gravy, it is more than I can mentally endure.

Mind you, I know intellectually, I KNOW it is a highlight reel. Yet, my mind clicks into comparison mode and I wonder why I should bother trying. I can’t keep up.

Social media used to be so fun for me – catching up with old friends and sharing little details about my life. But things, Life, started to get really Real for me – the shuttered business, marital friction, aging parents and children, and a cancer diagnosis and treatment.

What value can I contribute to the conversation? Who wants to hear about troubles and woes? We all have them and I think we are all trying to minimize them in our own lives, if not avoid them completely. Better to just not play along, keep my head down in my own life, and try to get out of it.

I turned 51 in December – officially middle-aged, with more runway behind me than in front of me. The last few years have felt like disappointments and shortages.

Oh! There was also the bit about the global pandemic.

I’m left reeling from the hits, punch-drunk.

 

 

I know this is the mess in the middle – are you familiar with it?

Let’s say you are putting away laundry.

You’re wrestling with your sheets as you try to stuff them into the overfilled closet. You’re mad; this is a mess! Things are spilling out. Towels are topped with tablecloths. Blankets are bungled up with bath robes. What is the gift wrap doing in here?! Who folded these fitted sheets?!

So you decide to refold the fitted sheets since they look like they were wrapped around a baseball bat and crammed into the corner. But when you pull out the fitted sheets, the flat sheets slip onto the vacuum cleaner and wrap around the extra heater which is also squeezed into the linen closet.

So you pull those out because now they also have to be refolded. And you notice some flat sheets under the bathroom rugs, so you remove those.

Before long you’ve decided – to heck with this closet! I’m sick of it! I’m cleaning this out.

Your five-minute task of putting the laundry away becomes a two-day affair of clearing every item, perusing and deciding what stays and what goes, wiping down all the shelves, and refolding and replacing or removing every item.

Your dining room table, or the bathroom sink, or the hallway floor are piled up with linens and towels, luggage, holiday ornaments and decorations, coats, extra toilet paper, and whatever else you keep in your closet.

Your children are looking for you to make lunch or take them to practice because just a moment ago you were in the laundry room, but no longer. You’re exasperated by any other demands on your life at the moment because you just want to get through this, organize it, get it just so, and then you can be done!

In the meantime, you’re in the mess in the middle wondering whose bright idea it was to organize the linen closet on a Saturday afternoon at 12:37 when a little while ago you had zero intention of organizing the linen closet and now it’s Sunday afternoon and it seems you’ve spent the entire weekend doing this when maybe you would have rather done anything else and it seems there is still no end in sight and you might be feeling the flames of anger and resentment that you let it get this bad or why can’t anyone else see this is a disaster and why won’t anyone else pitch in to help? And you might be feeling alone and stuck but you can’t stop now because there are washcloths and cotton swabs piled up and you’ve got to get through it and get it done.

That’s the mess in the middle. You’ve gone too far; point of no return time.

The mess in the middle is so much of life. We have anchors that can signal beginnings and ends – Temporal Landmarks along the vast landscape of our lives. But sometimes you’re just in the middle of the desert and everything looks the same in every direction. You’re not quite sure where you started and you can’t figure out the end.

But if we can keep going, on the other side of the pile of stained towels and dingy rugs and yellowing pillowcases, we have a fresh and tidy closet and a couple of piles of linens to take to the pet rescue shelter. And moving forward, every time we put things back into the closet, we are a little more careful and attentive because we know what it was like to go through that and we don’t want to go through that again.

Every time we look into the closet we feel a surge of pride and love. “I did that.” We show it off to our friends. We prove to ourselves that even if everything else is in chaos in our lives, the linen closet is ordered. Tremendous satisfaction and peace can come from that order.

We learn a lesson among and from the linens.

It doesn’t have to be the linen closet. It could be your sock drawer, the pantry, the stack of books next to your bed, or your office paperwork.

It’s taking the physical space and breaking it way down, smaller and smaller and smaller goals, bite-size pieces so we stop choking.

 

This is one of the ways love can look like, the kind of self-love the Greeks called Philautia. This is the kind of love Jesus referred to when he said, love others as you love yourself.

RuPaul said, “If you don’t love yourself, how in the hell you gonna love somebody else?”

The problem is that we do love others the way we love ourselves, which isn’t very well.

In our focus on finding romantic love, or performing to be loved by our bosses, other lacrosse moms, or by our “friends” on social media, we forsake ourselves.

 

Imagine if, on a day like today, you treated yourself the way you would treat a romantic partner – took yourself to dinner, bought yourself flowers or jewelry, and did what you wanted to please yourself. Miley Cyrus famously has a song about this right now, which makes me laugh. Like, seriously Girl? Are you just figuring that out now?

What does loving yourself look like? Can you look at yourself in the mirror right now and say your name and I love you?

That’s a place to start.

For better life results, be a friend to yourself first.

As the Christmas song goes, “Although it’s been said many times many ways”, there is truth to it, and like the linen closet, it needs to be attended to regularly.

You need to be attended to regularly. No one else really truly knows exactly what you need or when you need it.

Stop choking down the mess in the middle. Grace yourself with some compassion. Love yourself tenderly. Let all of those romantic song lyrics be about you from you to you. Let this be the beginning of your happily ever after.

Feliz Dia del Amor y la Amistad. 

I was feeling sick last week. Thing Two came down with a cold and I picked it up, casually, the way one picks out a Kind Bar in the checkout lane at Target.

No fever. No sore throat. Just a lot of mucus and feeling generally run down.

Thing Two started the previous semester like this. She missed the first week of school which put her way behind enough for the rest of the semester that she never entirely caught up in Biology. She failed it and, to her dismay, is retaking it this semester. Unwilling to repeat the previous semester’s folly (and biology or any other class), she is choosing to go to school – masked and socially distanced from her classmates.

 

 

I have up and down days.

One day I’m wiped out, in bed by 1800 and sleeping past my 0400 alarm, right up until I wake The Things at 0700. This makes for a rushed morning – not my favorite. I drive the girls to school in my pajamas and go straight home – not walking the dog in the morning after pick-up, as I normally do.

I try to catch up on schoolwork, but doze off while reading. I’m hungry all day; nothing tastes good. Unsatisfied, I eat again. I’m hungry, famished, for something food can’t provide.

 

The dog follows my every move with her eyes – hoping painfully, that she and I will do more than move from couch to bed to kitchen counter. My conscience is already loaded like potato skins, I don’t need the extra remorse.

But days of rest have been followed by bursts of energy. I look around the house – a bit disgusted frankly – how can we live like this? Everything feels shabby and neglected. I feel stagnant; so does my home. I’m sick and tired and sick and tired of living like this.

The weather has perked up, which helps my disposition. Sunny, cloudless skies. Daytime highs are in the mid-60s. Nights have warmed up to the high-40s so I’m not walking around the house bundled up like a glaciologist in Antarctica (have you seen natural gas prices?! Here, in California we are getting hammered!).

Yes, Phil from Punxsutawney may have claimed another six weeks of Winter this year but this week feels like Spring.

And that’s what Imbolc is – late winter/early spring.

 

I weeded on Tuesday. We’ve had an unseasonably wet January. Multiple days of cold drenching rain have been followed by multiple days of warm, sunny days.  Nasturtiums have naturalized in San Diego; our canyons and valleys (and my backyard) pop with their cheerful, plate-sized leaves. The mint curlicues from the flourishing weeds. The cilantro sneaks past the grasses.

 

We tented our home for termites in October. All the plants along the house burned in the process. I’ve walked by their dead bodies for four months.

As I yank at blighted aloe, I notice new pups at the seam. I pop them off, tossing the larger plant into the greens recycling. Time for some freshness. Aloe, and the other hardy succulents I sprinkle in the newly divulged earth, can forge their way. More rain and cool temperatures are likely over the next eight weeks. I trust they will find a way to grow.

 

I’ve always loved weeding. Your progress is evident. Where once was a cloak of weeds, now is a blank sheet. You can resolve the issue in a straightforward manner with a determined and consistent effort. Your body works, undertaking the task, and in a short time, your results are indisputable.

I was here. There was a problem; I solved it. I’ve got the dirt under my nails and the sore back to prove it.

Golly, it’s satisfying.

 

If only other issues in life were that conspicuous.

 

It’s also a matter of timing.

 

Right now with all the rain and cool weather, the weeding is easy…so so easy. I blasted out two hours and weeded 75% of the yard. It rained last night with more rain scheduled this week, which means I can weed more this week and complete the task. I may need to go back a bit and tend to it a bit more over the season, but I’m ahead of the game and it’s not such a formidable task.

I proved I can handle my business.

 

That’s important for me right now because I’ve been sick. Lethargy coupled with my bum knee has kept me from my regular exercise causing me distress.

Exercise is one of the key ways I keep my anxiety, and my general mental health in check.

I’m aware, right now. I’m noticing. Since there is a disturbance in my body, I’m more attuned than I have been. I’m shaking the dullness. I need something more. Winter, with its gifts of attunement, intentionality, and conceiving, is adjourning. But not all at once because seasons don’t change like that – from one day to the next BOOM.

Shoulder seasons are gradual, like dawn and dusk. They melt and emulsify so that in some moments you don’t know if it’s Winter or Spring, Summer or Autumn. They are both and neither, they are shoulder seasons and they are powerful.

 

Powerful reminders of what we are, who we are, and how we change.

 

We change just like this. We notice dreariness or staleness in our life. We let in some light. We warm up to the idea of change. And then we take timely, specific action.

Then we go back. We discern. What is piled up? Where are the scuffs? What am I ignoring? Where do I need to get stronger? What dead bodies am I ignoring? Where are weeds smothering what I want to grow?

 

These are good questions to ask yourself in your notebook today or this week. Small emotions are breadcrumbs on the trail to your truth. Do you feel something about something in your home, closet, bathroom cabinet, or yard? Can you do something about it today or this week?

Something small, remember. Don’t overburden yourself.

We aren’t trying to eat the elephant all at once. We are trying to remove a splinter.

Baby steps, with encouragement and compassion. Spring cleaning doesn’t happen all at once. By starting the process now, when Spring arrives in five weeks, you’ll feel fit.