Knowing Enough

Friends are going through chemotherapy right now which may be why I’ve wondered what to post.  My experience comes back, and I remember the beauty of connection, the clarity and gratitude that we are all one and we do a great deal to save the life of another.

Lately I’ve been with the uniqueness of each one of us, the uniqueness of our experience and perception.

Recently I read The Rosie Project by Graeme Simsion.  As reading does, it allows one entry into the mind of another, a man with Aspergers.  It’s laugh out loud funny in places and yet there’s a deeper stream of compassion and strength holding it all together.  Though it’s a trilogy, I only read the first book.  It was enough, and I’m with enough these days, knowing enough.

I’m grateful to be alive and well and able to feel the reverberations of all we create and share as we balance the tides and embrace and release with care.

Ebi, the rescue greyhound, thinks she’s a Lap Dog.


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

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!!