This Year's Intentions

I took this photo at Maker Faire last fall. It's difficult to explain what this was, but people were invited to enter into this space of whirling light. It depicts how time feels to me. Soon enough we'll say good-bye to 2026. Here is what I aim for in my life practice.

Daily

• I will continue to meditate daily for five minutes; it's the holy pause, and even brief episodes have a positive impact.
• Each day I walk, at a minimum, 2,000 steps; given my sedentary job and life, it stuns me how few steps I could take if I don't make the effort. Last year my average was 4,835 steps (2.28 miles per day).
• Read a book -- it requires deep attention.

Weekly

• Make art. It can be small, quick, and simple. Or it can be elaborate.
• Seek and invite spending time with my child, who is leaving in eight months.
• Date night with Hub; this has vastly improved our connection in the past several years.
• See clients -- my work, which I really enjoy.
• Exercise four to five times a week, including strength training.
• Write one blog entry.

Monthly

• See friends!
• Go on side quests with Hub.
• Attend Open Studio with friends.

Yearly

• Improve overall physical fitness, including shedding more weight.
• Read at least 30 books.
• Travel with Hub on a couple of trips.
• Get my child moved to college.
• Explore and create new community.
• Attend a few Ecstatic Dances.

Throughout the year I will check in with myself to ensure I'm attending to these small projects that help me to live richly. 

Whetting My Appetite

Having received the gift of books as I usually do at Christmas, I decided to assemble my to-read pile. The four bottom books were gifts from the most recent Christmas. The other books I "shopped" from my library, because of course I have a collection of unread treasures. These are all non-fiction. I usually rely on serendipity and recommendations for my fiction choices. 

The top three books have been in the queue for several years. Many clients have mentioned the two Ruiz books as being helpful, and I'm curious to know more. The other book, Having Everything Right, contains essays on place, particularly the Pacific Northwest. Usually I remember purchasing a book or that it was a gift (and from whom), but this one is a mystery. The Pacific Northwest beckons me as a possible place to live in retirement, whenever that happens. Thus it caught my eye.

The next five books are poetry, three of which were written by the too-soon departed Andrea Gibson, and the last book by Maggie Smith, who is unknown to me, except for the poem "Good Bones". 

Women Who Run With the Wolves has been on my shelf for the past decade. I started it when I bought it, but it didn't hold my attention. Ten years ago my mental energy was devoted to mothering an eight-year-old, and it wasn't the right moment. This year my child is graduating high school and headed to college; it's time to explore the Wild Woman and give her more room to live. I found this critique fascinating and have offered a gift link: The Wild Woman Awakens.

The other tome in the stack is a memoir (one of my favored genres): A Walk in the Park: The True Story of A Spectacular Misadventure in the Grand Canyon. This book also offers another feature of books I enjoy reading: misadventures, particularly ones related to nature and national parks. Thankfully no one dies in this story, as far as I can tell.

Lastly, I was given three books for art exploration. Last year I began playing with watercolor paint. When paint is of good quality, it is delicious to use. I'm looking forward to exploring and learning its ways.

Do you have a stack of books you look forward to reading this year? Leave a comment if you'd like to share. 

Take Action

It's the first day of another year. I don't do resolutions. But I do spend time considering my goals and intentions for the year and write them down. I use this as a map to check in during the year and see how satisfied I am with my life. This post is not specifically about that, however. Rather I uploaded a calendar for the month featuring small ways to nurture happiness. Visuals help me remember. The calendar is from the non-profit Action For Happiness, which I do plan to learn more about and perhaps get involved. 

Amazing Bake!

It's been awhile since I've rolled dough and prepped pies. But for Christmas Eve and Day (and beyond), we will enjoy the decadence of chocolate pecan pie and apple pie. May your holidays offer a bit of sweetness and light.

Jackie Summers on The Physics of Wishing

I've followed Jackie Summers on Facebook and on his Substack for several years. Based on what I know of his life story, he is a human phoenix. Much respect to him. He's an eloquent thinker and writer, as well as the first Black person in America with a license to make liquor. He created a drink based on the generational recipe from the African-Indiginous heritage of Barbados: Sorel Liqueur.

His recent post was about The Physics of Wishing, and I wanted to bookmark it for future reference. The entire post is worth reading. 

But the core of what I want to post are his instructions as follows:

How to Actually Send a Wish

(No physics degree required)

If any of those landed in your chest and you thought, “I hope that’s true for somebody I love”— here’s how you turn that into a real wish.

You don’t have to believe in magic. You just have to be willing to try an experiment.

1. Breathe once, on purpose.
Inhale a little slower than usual.
That’s your rhythm.

2. Let one person come to mind.
Just one. A friend, a lover, an ex, a parent, a stranger on the edge.

3. Find your stillness, set your intention.
Say it quietly in your head. Let your body feel what you mean.

4. Exhale slowly.
On that breath out, imagine the wish leaving your field and brushing theirs.

That’s it. That’s the whole spell.

No glitter. No angels getting their wings. Just a small increase in local coherence, from your nervous system to someone else’s.

Marcel The Shell With Shoes On | Official Trailer HD | A24

If you ever get a chance to watch this quirky movie, you won't regret it. That is, if you enjoy movies about love, connection, grief, joy, and wonder.  

The Huron Carol - Canadian Christmas Chant

Jagged peaks meet

ice-capped glaciers;

braided rivers weave 

across windswept plains.

The last maple leaf

having let go of the branch 

second-guessed its choice.

 

What if I told you 
that the carpet of lights 
below an ascending plane
are sparks of souls, 
our ancestors visiting 
to light our way through life?

Learning All the Ways

 “It seems to me that the great pleasure of human life is not in having an opinion, but rather in learning all the ways you are wrong, and all the nuances you failed to account for, and all the truths that turned out to be not as simple as you once believed. And it seems to me that one of the central pleasures of attending school is that you get to read with really well-informed people who can help welcome you into a complex world stuffed with rich and maddening ambiguity.”

— John Green

Old rickety steps

each step strewn with leaf debris

leading nowhere new.

Doing God's Work

Matthew 25:35-40 - New Living Translation

35 For I was hungry, and you fed me. I was thirsty, and you gave me a drink. I was a stranger, and you invited me into your home. 

36 I was naked, and you gave me clothing. I was sick, and you cared for me. I was in prison, and you visited me.’

37 “Then these righteous ones will reply, ‘Lord, when did we ever see you hungry and feed you? Or thirsty and give you something to drink? 

38 Or a stranger and show you hospitality? Or naked and give you clothing? 

39 When did we ever see you sick or in prison and visit you?’

40 “And the King will say, ‘I tell you the truth, when you did it to one of the least of these my brothers and sisters,[a] you were doing it to me!’

Last plucked from the vine,

summer's juicy gift lingers

destined for my tongue.

The sky flows towards 

upended kayaks resting

on the inlet shore.

Bookended by oaks

glowing sunset confection,

sweet sherbet colors.

Lay Down Your Suffering

 Little Altars Everywhere

There are little altars everywhere
in the world, places where you can
lay down your suffering for a while.
Hollowed-out oak trunk by the forest trail
where you leave acorns and pine cones
and worries you’ve gathered on a cushion
of moss, whose patience softens everything.
Or the bench at the busy intersection
where streams of people crossing the street
parted around you, and you fell in love
with each of them—the men in suits, babies
strapped in strollers—and left your fear
crumpled there like a useless receipt.
Or the shelf where you keep the box
of your mother’s ashes next to an electric
candle that flickers day and night, how you
give your grief to the yellow glow of that
false flame over and over, knowing
that even the plainest of light can be
enough sometimes to hold your pain.

--James Crews

Oh, Mother Morro!

Steadfast refuge for wildlife;

sacred ancient land.

In the black abyss

glorious color shifting

revealing a path.

A gondola skims
across the bay, ushering
the evening's peace.