Friday, March 24, 2006


Today I had my 14 year old cat, Barclay, put to sleep. I'm sad. Just days ago he started to act sick. Confused. Lethargic. Not eating or drinking. Yesterday the vet said it's congestive heart failure. He wasn't going to get better. Today, it was painful to see him that way. Laying like a wet noodle on the floor. Crying out. Confused. Refusing to eat or drink. I had to let him go. I didn't wait. I let him go. I'm sad. Hoping there is truth to spirit and wondering if he met my Jack on the other side. That's my hope. My heart feels a little empty and the space on the couch next to me is hollow without him. Thank you Barclay for being a quiet presence in my life for so long. I'll miss you sweet boy.

Sunday, March 12, 2006



and on we go

It's Sunday. Already the middle of March. It's true that time seems to elapse faster the older we get. How is it that I will turn 39 years old in just a few weeks?

I remember when I was a teenager how older people seemed a world a way. Out of touch. I was certain that they had no idea what I was going through. And now, almost 40, I am clear that though I now have a much more broad perspective on life, I am the same girl I was when I was that young. I laugh thinking about the drama. The things that were the end of the world, the immensity of the emotions I was feeling. Not that I haven't felt immense drama as an adult (oh, just a few times....). But the feeling is different. As a teen I wasn't able to apply the big picture to the pain. It was just me, and my experience that created the pulse of Life.

I have a new compassion for people at the end of their journey, knowing that they are the same child that they have always been. The reality of it is truly beautiful. And comforting that when I approach my twilight, I will still be me. It's a thought that reinforces my belief that this isn't the end.

Saturday, March 11, 2006


Messages come. Often overlooked as chaff in the wind. Unused.
I hear a message for me.

Why is it that though we may technically be adults, there are huge, viable parts of us that don't mature past the time in our lives that we were hurt. When the wound came.

I am hearing Life whisper to me that I am not 13. I am not in need. I do not need anyone to affirm who I am. I am not alone. I am not weak. I AM.

I am feeling compassion for those who seek to fill that chasm in ways that cross boundaries. Boundaries that are important and necessary because they protect others. Boundaries that keep the people we are working to help-safe in their own experiences. I have compassion for those to break those boundaries and I have anger at the same time. I have not done this, and at the same time, I hear Life whisper for me to pay attention. Fill my own chasm. Anything else is to not love.

To allow oneself to fill it with someone else's attention..... attention that is gained by being in a position of trust...... is to use the warm spirit of a cherished person for our own need, our own gain. The thought makes my soul weep. And shudder.

My hearts desire is to be in a position of trust. A place that others can come to to fall, to grow, to weep, to trust. A place where they can be safe to lose their own sense of boundary. Therefore, I will continue to work to strengthen my own fortress of integrity. It is so easy for it to become a thin veil that blends with the breeze around it... possible to ignore. I will not. I move to remember my core and to love others with a trustworthiness strong enough to handle their lack of it.

Life, Thank you for the whisper.

Tuesday, March 07, 2006


I didn't know her.
Didn't think of her often.

Her death has touched me.
Her smile. Her generous spirit. Her heart.

She was the wind beneath his wings.
Her soul willingly intertwined with his.
Then his wings spread and he left.

It's almost as if she couldn't remain without him.
And she left too.
Knowing her strong son had been prepared.

My morning was touched with sadness.
My own loss revisited.
My own tears invited to share in this goodbye.

A reminder of my own woman of grace.
And her goodbye.