cool reflection in Beaver Creek

from my hike today - petroglyph along Beaver Creek

Chaco the mountain dog!

Balancing Rock

Peregrine falcon on the way home from hike!

My sister is learning how not to be "nice." It is a thrilling thing to see. It reminded me of my own journey to "no." Here's a poem I wrote at the time:

 
 

Sometimes, a woman has to say "No" a thousand times

before she can come to one true yes.

 
 

No, I can't talk to you right now.

No, I won't join one more committee even if it is a vital cause.

No, I won't be the neighborhood babysitter just because everyone else works out of the home.

 
 

In all of these no's we can finally come to know who we really are.

 
 

We are not the volunteer who always works so hard that she becomes physically sick after the big event.

We are not the friend who always answers the phone no matter what.

We are not the mother whose door is always open.

 
 

All of these yes' come at a price.

 
 

The headaches.

Breast Cancer.

Fallen families.

Lives unlived.

Love lost.

 
 

After the first hundred no's it gets a little easier.

 
 

No, I won't remain silent while an angry father slaps his two year old at the grocery store.

No, I can't share myself with "friends" who are unkind and ungiving.

No, I won't accept something as truth without first asking my heart.

 
 

At the end of that long road of no's we finally meet who we really are. Some say she's wicked, others think she's evil but I think she is someone I would want my own daughter to take after.

 
 

 
 

 
 

 
 

 
 

 
 

Guest House by Rumi

 
 

This being human is a guest house

Every morning a new arrival.

A joy, a depression, a meanness,

some momentary awareness comes

as an unexpected visitor.

Welcome and entertain them all!

Even if they are a crowd of sorrows,

who violently sweep your house

empty of its furniture,

still treat each guest honorably.

He may be clearing you out for some new delight.

The dark thought, the shame, the malice,

meet them at the door laughing,

and invite them in.

Be grateful for whoever comes,

because each has been sent

as a guide from beyond.

I Live Between Two Worlds

I live between two worlds, the world of work and efficiency and remembered tasks and schedules and items checked off and the world of dreams and of stories telling themselves and chaos and confusion. The hardest part is finding enough time to go to the latter. Mya is telling me her story but I have to stop her, midsentence sometimes, to travel to the land of adolescent girls with all of their challenges and learnings and joys and grief and drama. Maybe the travels between the two are really what juice each.

 
 

105 ms pages!

One thing I’ve discovered in writing this book is I’m starting to come out in it. Somehow the things I’ve learned in my life are finding their way into the pages. This journey is nothing like I thought it would be. The story has taken on a life of its own and I feel it is telling itself through me.

45 pages on my manuscript and counting! This certainly is a journey for me. Just like the heroine who refuses the first call to action I turned my head for years. I have finally put on my traveling shoes, grabbed my walking stick and hit the trail. Today the path is smooth. Yesterday it was all uphill. I had to stop several times to catch my breath. It does take my breath away - this process of telling a story. My protagonist, Mya, is searching for the lost stories of her culture. As she navigates the rough terrain of foreign lands I too look to my soul compass for direction to my true north - my true self.