Solstice Eve.

I prefer winter and fall, when you can feel the bone structure of the landscape - the loneliness of it, the dead feeling of winter. Something waits beneath it, the whole story doesn't show.

-Andrew Wyeth

View from Del Valle this morning...

Brad descending into the fog...

I also prefer winter and fall riding, with full-length leg warmers, toe-covers, long fingered gloves and wind vests, when you can feel the rain on your face and taste the gritty mud in your teeth. Something about this reminds me that I am climbing, breathing, moving, descending - living. 

Tomorrow is winter solstice, the shortest, darkest day of the year. From there on out, it all brightens and lengthens...

The Other Side.

I once dated a guy who told me straight to my face, "You know, it's good that you're a little overweight- you'll be a more empathic counselor for overweight individuals because you know firsthand what it's like." Since then, I've shed that person from my life, as well as those unwanted pounds, but sometimes those words will still echo in my head. Underneath the initial sting, I believe his message was true- we can more effectively guide people to the other side once we've walked through it ourselves.

Take the first step.

Even as writers, it's our responsibility to get people to the other side- to the other side of fear and judgement, and step into a place of ease and openness. But this can only happen when we're willing to share our own stories and walk on that bridge, over the river of despair, step by step.  If we all stay silent, we all stay paralyzed and isolated.

So don't discount your dark experiences.  Talk about them, share them, use them as supporting wooden planks that create that avenue of connection, holding our weight and acting as a bridge to bring us back to ourselves and to each other.

Syntax.

“Let yourself become living poetry.”

— Rumi

Wild.

“It was my life- like all lives, mysterious and irrevocable and sacred. So very close, so very present, so very belonging to me. How wild is was, to let it be.”

— Cheryl Strayed, Wild

View from today's Mt. Diablo climb. I was too busy pedaling my bike!                                 Photo cred: Brad Rank

Excited to see this movie tonight with a fellow adventurer who is just as obsessed with the outdoors and finding oneself as I am.

Mystery at Limatour Beach

The waves continuously lap
hour after hour
day after day

The sun rises and falls
The sky, watercolored cotton candy pink
and magnificent hues of orange

My light is shining
They wonder from afar who I am
I remain a mystery, an enigma

Tonight I swallowed the moon
She steers me to my destination
Lighting the way

The Uses of Sorrow.

(In my sleep I dreamed this poem)

Someone I loved once gave me

a box full of darkness.

It took me years to understand,

that this, too, was a gift.

-Mary Oliver, Thirst

Taking Flight.

Sunset from Limatour Beach

Still soaking in this past weekend.  Grateful to be in the creative company of so many published writers and writing professors.  Proud of myself for showing up and being as present and brave and vulnerable as I could.  It was beautiful to meet such unique individuals and hear their poetic artistry as it landed on the page.  Perhaps the greatest lesson was learning that we are all the same- walking these same shores of life, witnessing the same sunrise and sunset, and trusting that as we pick up the pen, magic will be created and we will once again courageously fly with our words.

Needing to Recharge.

Ain't that the truth!  God bless all the boys who drop everything, come over when it's late and give your brand new car a jump.  (sure beats calling 24 hr Roadside Assistance)

Hoping this weekend will jumpstart and recharge my inner writer's batteries as well.  And hoping that the only thing that dies is my inner critic.

Books Over Basketball.

“…for some of us, books are as important as anything else on earth. What a miracle it is that out of these small, flat, rigid pieces of paper unfolds world after world, worlds that sing to you, comfort and quiet you or excite you. Books help us understand who we are and how we are to behave. They show us what community and friendship mean; they show us how to live and die.”

— Anne Lamott, Bird by Bird: Some Instructions on Writing and Life

Kaia looks about as thrilled as I did when I was younger...

Coming from a girl who would rather pick up a basketball or a fishing pole or even a rolly polly bug than pick up a book, it's amazing how some things that once you wouldn't devote five minutes to are now the things you crave.  Some think that people don't change.  I'm here to tell you that they do. 

I have stacks of books now in my living room and on my bedstand, constantly competing for my time and attention. But somehow, Anne Lamott always manages to sneak her way to the top and into my hands.

Can you tell I have a slight writer's crush on her?

B-attitudes.

Feeling so grateful and light and energetic- mostly because of high-vibrational foods and the good people in my life.  This last weekend of November (wow, does time fly!) was brought to you by the letter B.

Blended juice of beets, carrots, apples, parsley and ginger. Amaaaazing.

Move over, Vitamix…there's a new kid in town…

Another adventure in vegan, gluten-fee baking. Ginger molasses cookies that complemented our pumpkin coconut ice cream!

Bicycles and beets and baking and boots and bear hugs and breathing and bracelet-making and books and boats and Bibles and a Breville and time spent with one of my favorite people in the world, B.

Blessed. 

Moving On.

I spent the past nine years in a loveless relationship with Mr. H. Now don't get me wrong- H was dependable, trustworthy; the one you'd want to bring home to meet your folks at Christmas. They would approve of his no-frills, humble appearance; breathing a sigh of relief that there was nothing too loud or obnoxious about him.  Practicality on a plate.  Serving me selflessly for years. 

We took road trips from the coast to the snow-capped mountains, sand and sweat-filled memories logged in our memory bank. He came to all of my races, rain or shine. We spent chill mornings together listening to Howard Stern and eating oatmeal.  We sang together at the top of our lungs and laughed and shared deep conversations in the wee hours of the night. 

He was reliable and responsible, but I secretly wanted him to be more cutting edge, sophisticated, risk-taking. And so we'd show up at places together, conservative and happy, but knowing deep down we were both in a passionless relationship.  I ignored it because I thought H was my future. 

And that's when things started to get bumpy. Nothing felt as smooth or effortless as it once had way back when. We thought we could fix it- fix us… And so we sought professional help. We spent money. And we spent time. And even though he always said he was about reliability and spoke of our future together, I began to question him. It felt like superficial bullshit.  Eventually, things soured.

And that's when M first caught my eye. M was sleek and sexy and confident and wildly charismatic. My heart would race and my cheeks would flush every time I would catch a glimpse of him. I had to have him. I craved him, like a drug. Late at night, I'd find myself googling him, staring at his pictures- the light of my computer screen illuminating my lustful eyes. And the first time with M? Amazing. Toe-curling. He was exciting and new and effortlessly fed my adrenaline-hungry body.  He was everything that I had imagined. I wanted to bury my nose in him and inhale his scent deeply and caress him. He was addictive. Where H had left off, M took over, paying such careful attention to the small details- he cared about how my music sounded, the temperature of my body, my safety, my happiness.

And so yesterday, I made a big decision.  I chose M. And I'm all in, baby. 

Excited for our adventures that await.

Goodbye Honda, hello Mazda3. (oh, and hello, Garmin Vivofit!)