Our days continue exquisite with such a clear circling of movement as the sun rises and sets, and the moon is still a shining orb in the morning.  

CA law is now requiring sensitivity training for companies with five employees.  Steve fulfilled the requirement yesterday, on-line of course.  

California law requires all employers of 5 or more employees to provide 1 hour of sexual harassment and abusive conduct prevention training to nonsupervisory employees and 2 hours of sexual harassment and abusive conduct prevention training to supervisors and managers once every two years.

Steve then learned the company that created the training is right across the street from his office in the old post office. It’s a small world.

I’m thrilled with the requirement and again it makes it hard to reconcile with a former president who clearly violated all sense of decency, and with his blatant lies still does.  I’m working with balance today, grateful for increasing teaching and awareness, and mind-boggled at how a man, any man, can spout lies without consequence over and over again.

And I’m with the sun and the moon, grateful to be alive.

I’m keeping David Whyte’s beautiful book Everything Is Waiting for You, here on my desk.  Today I light on this poem.  May poetry find you today.


Good poetry begins with

the lightest touch,

a breeze arriving from nowhere,

a whispered healing arrival,

a word in your ear,

a settling into things,

then like a hand in the dark

it arrests the whole body,

steeling you for revelation.

In the silence that follows

a great line

you can feel Lazarus

deep inside

even the laziest, most deathly afraid

part of you,

lift up his hands and walk toward the light.

Inspiration and Light

A Field

I wake this morning with Rumi’s words flowing through and around me.

Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing

and right doing there is a field

I’ll meet you there.

When the soul lies down in that grass

the world is too full to talk about.

We live in a field, a continuous exchange.  I invite and allow myself to feel the movement within and around me, no separation at all.

My grandson is in a Spanish immersion daycare school, so I’m learning Spanish on Duolingo.

Last night I started a new lesson on emotion and feeling.  It’s quite lovely.

I’m with this: Como te sientes?  How do you feel?

Sientes comes from sentir.  I love how sense is there in the question.  How do you sense, and in that, how do you feel?



I often think of self-care from the outside so washing skin and hair, brushing teeth, and today I do those things but I also consider self-care from the inside out – see the buds of my hair follicles – the layers of skin – the tissues – the blood flowing – heart beating – lungs pumping – what a marvel I am this day, the first day of March as we march along toward spring.  

Ursula K. Le Guin said that “science describes accurately from outside, poetry describes accurately from inside, [and] both celebrate what they describe.”

I’m with both today, inside and out, massaging the tissues with poetry and allowing the touch of sunlight to stream deeply within, planting lanterns for fairies and leprechauns.

Orchid comes to bloom again this year, called to form and open by the Light


When I was invited to make a Happy Birthday video, I found myself at the overlook for the Golden Gate Bridge welcoming the sunrise.  The bridge looks so stable from above.  It is stable and yet I’m reminded of May 24, 1987.  

To celebrate its 50th anniversary, the bridge was closed to traffic and opened to walking.  My youngest son and I were there early for the event, and received a piece of the banner as it was cut.  As we started across we met people coming from the SF side.  Because we were first, we got through easily and walked along the bay through the city to the ferry building.  Returning on the ferry, we were shocked to see the bridge flatten out.  No one expected 300,000 people to show up and meet in the middle.  It was claustrophobic gridlock.  For us on the ferry, it was slightly unnerving to see bridge without its curve, and clearly it didn’t fall.

Yesterday in a Sensory Awareness workshop, Misty Hannah led us with the image of bridges, the bridges within us, and the bridges connecting us.  I saw suspension bridges in Nepal and another saw stone bridges in northern England.  It was an invitation of exploration.

What kind of bridges swing or hold steady within us and between us?  Where do we find support?

I thought of the game Chutes and Ladders, visualized and felt an up and down flow within.

Misty shared with us a tribe in Mexico who greets not with Hello, but with “Are you here?” or “You are here.”   They may add “How is your heart today?

How is your heart today?

When I ask myself how my heart is, I feel a swing of response as my lungs move in and out, responsive beacons of support.

I feel fluidity in my spine, a bridge connecting head and sacrum.

All of this flows through me today as I wake in the dark, the moon still shining in the sky.

My son and his wife got their long-awaited rescue greyhound yesterday.  She is a beauty, small and young.  She was never on the track and naturally is her own self so she is different than their first rescue greyhound Senna who passed away last year.  

I’m so happy for them and for her.  Bridges of love and connection brought her to them as she was rescued from Florida, and brought to Denver, and now she is here in their home, her home.  Her track name is Rumor, but they have named her Ebi because she is small.

Beauty and Love.  Bridges of connection. My heart is full. 


Snow Moon

Tonight is the full moon.  I read that we sleep less the nights before the full moon.  We’re more synchronized to the phases of the moon than we may realize.  I’m going to notice from now on but Steve and I were both awake at 3:30 this morning, ready for a shiny new day.

I’m invited to a 100th birthday celebration, on Zoom, of course.  Perhaps seven years ago now, this man was told he would die if he didn’t continue treatment for throat cancer.  Since he couldn’t eat with the treatment, he was slowly starving to death, so he quit the treatment and here he is.  100 years of a very good life, and who knows how many more he has to go.  

Inspired, I leap on the words of Ralph Waldo Emerson:

“The drop is a small ocean.”

So many drops, so many oceans, and here we are!!

The Wholeness of a Moment

The world is opening up.  I got my teeth cleaned yesterday and I’ll get a haircut today.   Yes, we’re still wearing masks but there’s a little more space in these longer days.

I asked my dental hygienist how his children were doing with the pandemic.  He said his seven year old daughter had been doing well and then a few months ago became hysterical and they couldn’t calm her down.  She kept saying, “The hospitals are full.”  They took her to a behavioral psychotherapist who through talking and having the child draw discovered that the child remembered when she was four years old and had respiratory failure and was rushed to the hospital in an ambulance.  Now, she feared it would happen again and the hospitals would be full and she would die.   The therapist assured her she is older now and stronger and will be okay.

I think it’s good the memory of her trauma was uncovered, discussed and aired. I think of the healing in putting it on paper. In chemotherapy, I drew an image of my body, and the therapist analyzing it, pointed out what she saw and what I might not be seeing and feeling in my experience. I can’t remember what I drew, but I do remember how her analysis hit home. I walked out feeling “seen”, and of course, it was really me seeing myself.

I sit with how our children have been and are being affected by all of this. Yesterday, my hygienist put it in perspective. He said that though this may be hard on our children, it’s not like life in Syria.  Yes, it’s true.  And I wonder what they say.

I’m with words of Jane Hirshfield: “One breath taken completely; one poem, fully written, fully read — in such a moment, anything can happen.”


I’m with the fullness of the moment, the fullness of the breath as I assimilate and reflect. My passage expands like the twittering and flight of birds, a reverence ringing inside and out. I am the bell, the space, the lamp, the light, the chime.

Harvest and meaning gong!!

Morning Comes
Orchid reaches to open and bloom
Wind chimes

Light shines



An Angel of a friend has pancreatic cancer and has been given two to five years to live.  He’s our age, Steve and mine, and our first thought was oh, no, and the second was two to five years.  Wow!  It goes with living every minute as though it’s our last.

A request to make a video tribute for my daughter-in-law’s 40th birthday led me up to the Headlands early yesterday morning.  I wanted to catch the sunrise but then was content with this view – the sun’s radiant coming and the symbolism of sunrise and the Golden Gate Bridge and the passage out to sea.

Life is good for me!

Here she comes!
Looking out to the Pacific


When I was in 8th grade we sang the Hallelujah Chorus.  I wonder how now as I listen to the range required.  

I was inspired to listen when I learned in Writer’s Almanac that today is Handel’s birthday.

It’s the birthday of composer George Handel, who wrote the great oratorio Messiah, born in Halle, Germany (1685).

In 1741, he was asked to do a benefit in Dublin. He decided to write a new oratorio for the performance, and he worked on it zealously, often neglecting to eat or sleep. In 25 days, he’d created the score for the Messiah, which was composed of 50 separate pieces. When he was finished he said, “I think God has visited me.”

You can listen and then view pictures I took yesterday from the overlook in Muir Beach and further down.  Music, Nature, Inspired!

From the overlook

At a friend’s home

It’s Spring!


In these times of complexity, balance, and change, I come to Mary Oliver’s book Upstream.   

Out walking, she comes upon a hawk beginning the process of tearing apart and consuming a pheasant.  Though she prefers to be a vegetarian, a craving for meat will strike, and she considers how the pheasant could be her dinner.  Then, re-considering, she walks on.

“But I know how sparkling was the push of my own appetite. I am no fool, no sentimentalist.  I know that appetite is one of the gods, with a rough and savage face, but a god all the same.

Teilhard de Chardin says somewhere that man’s most agonizing spiritual decision is his necessity for food, with its unavoidable attachments to suffering.  Who would disagree.


A Vote for Equality

I’m beginning this post with John O’Donohue:

“Unfinished Poem

I would love to live like a river flows, carried by the surprise of its own unfolding.”

I’m now going to quote from an article in The Nation by Nathan Newman called “The Case for Blue-State Secession: It’s the only way to ensure equal representation for all.”

“Twice in the past 20 years, a GOP candidate who lost the popular vote took the presidency and 2020 came uncomfortably close to making it a third time. A minority of the population controlled the Senate for the past six years, during which, in combination with a minority-elected president, it packed the Supreme Court with a supermajority of Republican judges.”

“Democratic presidents have appointed just four out of 17 Supreme Court justices since 1970.”

“Thanks to the Senate’s bizarre filibuster rules, 41 senators – who represent as little as 11 percent of the population – can prevent any bill from even coming to a vote.”

In addition, blue states send more to the federal government than red states.  Mississippi receives $2.09 in spending for every tax dollar it sends to Washington. McConnell’s Kentucky gets $2.89 and Lindsey Graham’s South Caroline receives $1.71.  

Trump purposely sent aid to states that supported him and ignored California when wildfires raged.

Newman shows how all the people in this country would benefit from equal representation because then blue states could pressure red states for equality and fairness for all.

Let’s live like a river flows, carried by the surprise of our own unfolding.