{i feel moved to share part of today’s journal entry with you. the questions are courtesy of martha beck and the joy diet, which i am currently re-reading. may it offer a spoonful of permission and a sprinkling of compassion on this, the first day of the new year. }

what am i feeling?

nothing. it feels like the kind of nothing that is blocking something.

i feel sleepy. again, not the sleepy of (i need rest), but the sleepy that is keeping me away from the truth.

i feel anger. it is behind my shoulders, behind me, a tightening.

now i want to know why i’m angry. it is not the gentle loving curious why, but the why that says what i’m thinking/feeling/doing is wrong and i must find the why in order to change it.

ahhhhh. now there are tears. my shoulders ease. i finally feel permission to feel.

i feel …

i don’t know the word. confusion? longing?

yes, longing. i sense a deep longing for something that i am not ready to articulate to myself just yet.

for now, that is enough.

what hurts?

my throat. it feels raw and inflamed.

it speaks of too much apple cider vinegar and not enough honey, of taking in someone else’s wisdom and thinking it must become mine because they are clearly wiser than me (by virtue of not being me), of forgetting about pleasure and joy and honoring myself in favor of pain and suffering and the opposite of loving kindness.

it speaks of stuffing things down and being small and thinking that my ways (and subsequently me) are not the right ways because they are not what someone else might have done.

it speaks of shame, of feeling embarrassed about how much i love my puppy, even though my love for him is one of the real-est and truest things about me.

ahhhhh. again there are tears. there is a cool release spreading throughout my throat.

for now, that is enough.

“It is the life of the crystal, the architect of the flake, the fire of the frost, the soul of the sunbeam. This crisp winter air is full of it.”

~ John Burroughs, Winter Sunshine

{i don’t know who john burroughs is, but i need to read his book because it seems to be full of the most marvelous thoughts about winter.}

{this photo comes to you courtesy of an old truck, sunshine, and snowflakes. i am so loving finding the magic in winter.}

as i bent down, and looked sideways, i caught a glimpse of the road to fairyland.

i can see the sun out my window, so i am sending you some sunshine of your own.

may your tuesday be full of cheer.

“I pick the prettiest part of the sky and I melt into the wing and then into the air, till I’m just soul on a sunbeam.”

~ Richard Bach

I touch my cheek, my lip, the inside of my wrist, and I marvel at the softness.

This houses me. This is mine.

This past weekend, I had my very first ride on a motorcycle. While on it, I realized that I felt a little cool.

Not completely cool. But kind of cool.

Cool is a word I have never ever ever associated with myself. In high school, I wore glasses and played the flute and got straight As and was neither popular nor athletic. Also, I was in lots of spelling bees in middle school. I was most definitely not considered cool.

Somehow that made me think of someone I know, who probably doesn’t think they’re cool, but I think they’re very cool.

That made me wonder if there might even be people who think I am cool. (What a thought!)

All of this is making me think about labels. About how we apply them to ourselves. About how we apply them to other people. About how we allow those labels to shape us. About how we carry those labels for years, never bothering to take them out and question them.

I am even thinking about labels I might like, because the truth is that they often cause me to extend judgment toward myself and others. If I want to be a kind person, it is hard for me to accept and forgive myself for behavior that is unkind, because it doesn’t align with my perception of a kind person.

I don’t know if it’s possible, but I want to lovingly thank all of my labels for their service and release them with love. I think it would be freeing.

(Ok. I know I just disavowed labels, but I am definitely a thinker, since I seem unable to completely enjoy anything without reflecting on it, even when I don’t mean to. I love that about me.)

what if you were a well, filled by an underground spring. only instead of water, the spring was the source of any quality you can imagine.

what quality would you like to be filled with today?

if you like, you can close your eyes, rest your feet firmly on the ground, and imagine that quality rising up from the earth, entering through your feet, and slowly filling your entire body.

can you feel it?

{if you enjoy this, you might enjoy hope floats. you can sign up today to receive a daily dose of nourishment every day in october.}

yesterday, i started writing a blog post titled “10 things you can do when the irs is knocking at your door”, because it made me giggle.

who knows, i may still finish and share it, but the moment is not right. i do, however, want to say that i am in what could best be described as a financial implosion.

one of the things i don’t talk about is money. not because i don’t like talking about it, because i actually do. i find money and personal finance to be interesting and fascinating and relevant. if there’s a book on money out there, i’ve probably read it. (years ago, i spent one birthday weekend at a cabin with atlas, eating angel food cake and chocolate pudding while reading every single rich dad poor dad book. now that is my idea of birthday fun. oh! i also own the rich dad cashflow game. i always forget about it – i haven’t played it in years – but it is so much fun.)

i also think that money is a topic that could use a great many more open and honest discussions. (i used to belong to a discussion board where people shared everything about money, up to and including numbers. it was the most fascinating board ever.)

at its core, money is simply a means of exchange, something we created to be of use. it is not inherently good or bad. the only value it has is what we ourselves apply to it – and that value is really only a story.

somehow, over the years, we seem to have given away much of our power to money; it can cause us to feel guilty and ashamed and irresponsible and to apply judgment to ourselves and others. this seems so strange because really, things are the way they are; they got there the way they got there; what’s right for one person is wrong for another; and our financial situation says nothing about our worth and value.

along with many other things, i think that talking about money is one of the ways we bring light into all the dark places and change this for the better.

i mostly don’t talk about money because it hasn’t popped into my head as a thing to talk about. or in this case, because i realized that i like people to buy my stuff because they love it and want it and the time is right, not because they are worried about me. but that, i decided, is a silly thing to worry about, because i always trust that you will do what’s right for you.

and it turns out that i do want to share where i’m at. not so that you will worry about me, or because i want or need sympathy. just because it is where i’m at and it feels important to share.

i must confess that this year has quite possibly been my hardest year yet. for two entirely different reasons. but inspiration and intuition have not led me to talk about them, so i do not.

and yet, the hard has been full of its own particular beauty, and i would not wish it away. i find that i am filled with even more love for myself, my sense of worth is more solid, and i am more and more able to access joy & possibility & wonder in moments when i would have previously thought them well out of reach.

what i feel moved to say today is this:

be gentle with yourself. if and as you can.

it’s hard to be alive sometimes. but you are doing a darn good job at it.