Today I ran into a friend I haven’t seen in a long time.  He is happily married, successful, artistic, and spirited.  I’ve always loved him and his wife.  They are faithful to each other and to their own paths, and that is such a healthy thing to witness.  Today as this sweet man and I caught up, he addressed the matters that mean so much to me… how were my parents?  How’s Hannah? How’s my little dog?  What art am I creating of late?  He
noticed that I grew warm in the afternoon sunlight, and he thoughtfully got me a cup of cool water.  He also hugged me tight as we parted our ways.
 
It’s a pretty ordinary story. There’s nothing more to it than this.  But what I was reminded of today is that I am so grateful, so very grateful for men like this who quietly come and go in my life.  To speak with ease to a man, to feel validated and seen, to be remembered with tenderness, to be loved in a way that I yearn to be loved… just innocent offerings that warm my heart.   I walked away from my friend today and thought…this does exist. 
There really are men in the world who ‘get’ life in the ways I adore. There really are men who connect to the sacredness of relationship. 
  
And so before I close my eyes in sleep tonight, I feel compelled to thank the really special guys who give me hope… who teach me and tend me in ways that are honorable and holy and absolutely delightful.  Paul and Paul and Ken and Mike and Mike and Bill and Bill and Chris and Seth and Jim and Steve.  Thanks, guys. Your wives are truly blessed to roam through this life with you.  You give me hope that I’ll find that keeper one day as well.  

Today I took myself to the doctor.  She sent me for a chest x-ray and blood work.  Now I am home, and will be at home for the next three days.  She told me to rest.  I cannot tell you what a relief that is!  It takes a whole lot for me to decide I am not well.  I need a raging fever or a back full of muscle spasms to slow me down. No matter how poorly I feel, I tend to always think I can keep going!!  But today, I was so thankful to have a professional tell me it is time to take a break.  (Yes, there is a therapy session or two needed to resolve my need for someone else to give me permission to time out… but that’s another story!)
 
I don’t know what this is from a medical standpoint.  I’ll get test results tomorrow, but here is what I do know. 
I function best with simplicity.  I like slow.  I like time in which to be thoughtful and kind and generous.  I like to notice sunrises and little birdsongs.  I don’t believe that we need more to do in order to have or be more.  I trust quiet.  I swirl like a little girl in a twirly dress at moments that finally peel us back to sanity and compassion and good humor and love.  I adore, absolutely adore, wisdom that tosses out bureaucracy, pettiness, and small-mindedness. I need nature to ground me.  I need art to feed me.  I need prayer to steady me.

Of late, I’ve been on some kind of inner crash course on how to wreak havoc on my soul.  My pace, my lists, my drive to give has intensified so much that I cannot slow my body down enough to sleep at night.  I worry.  I worry about work and family and relationships and wars and the future and my own one life in which I want to do everything and be this amazing gloriosa daisy girl who lives into her own wondrous potential fully.  Sheesh!  Just naming all of that makes me want to go take another nap! Why have I joined the worldly craze of be all and do all?
 
Sometimes, I think the best thing for me and for so many others on this less-than-fun merry go ride is to sit still and watch the mountains change in color as day turns to night.  I think it is healthy to make old fashioned casseroles and remember how our grandmothers made them and really pay attention to stirring and temperatures
and timing and how good the house begins to smell.  And then to just pick up the phone and find someone at home who had been wishing all day for someone to cook them a casserole and invite them to come and share the meal together.  I think a slow walk and gentle conversation on the front porch with candles lit at the end of the day is the best bedtime prayer.



I believe all of this. 
I know it as truth, but I haven’t been living it. 
My body has now decided to be stronger than my mind and make me sick so I can find my way back.  Wow!  Now isn’t that just something?  No matter how much the brain is labeled as the place of knowledge and wisdom… the body and soul speak clearer and truer.  To every ache, to the drain of energy, to the headaches and shortness of breath… thank you. Thank you for knocking some sense into my head.  Namaste.