Merry and Bright.

While cresting the hill near Hiddenbrooke this morning, this Irish blessing came into my head. It seemed fitting as I pedaled behind my two girlfriends, into the sunshine and with the wind finally at our backs…

May the road rise up to meet you

May the wind be ever at your back

May the sun shine warm upon your face

and the rain fall softly on your field…

Christmas morning miles...

Christmas morning miles...

May your days be merry and bright

And may all your Christmases be white (or full of sunshine and green hills)...

Beannacht.

Today has been a whirlwind of errands, including trips to the bank, installing Sirius in my new car, troubleshooting an alternator on my old car, phone calls for tech support in India for a printer (we bonded over my random Hindi phrases and love for kitchari), and organizing some paperwork that needed to get done. It seems like a lot of busyness in an already busy season, so tonight I just lit some candles, played some piano, and worked on some art projects. Clearing the mind, clearing the clutter. I feel better already. I'll leave you tonight with a gem of a poem which concluded last night's winter solstice poetry reading at Point Reyes Books. Such a cozy venue, sitting shoulder-to-shoulder with fellow poets, reading from a faint book light, as the rest of the store was illuminated by candlelight. Beannacht is Gaelic for "blessing"- may you be equally blessed by these words…

The cozy atmosphere from inside Point Reyes Books... 

On the day when
The weight deadens
On your shoulders
And you stumble,
May the clay dance
To balance you.

And when your eyes
Freeze behind
The grey window
And the ghost of loss
Gets into you,
May a flock of colours,
Indigo, red, green
And azure blue,
Come to awaken in you
A meadow of delight.

When the canvas frays
In the currach of thought
And a stain of ocean
Blackens beneath you,
May there come across the waters
A path of yellow moonlight
To bring you safely home.

May the nourishment of the earth be yours,
May the clarity of light be yours,
May the fluency of the ocean be yours,
May the protection of the ancestors be yours.

And so may a slow
Wind work these words
Of love around you,
An invisible cloak,
To mind your life.

-John O'Donohue

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.

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.

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

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.

Taking Flight.

Sunset from Limatour Beach

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.