A Day in the Life

February 16th, 2016

The alarm rings, and I slowly convince myself to get out of bed. It’s later than expected, so I hurry out of the house, skipping breakfast. Daughter and husband are still asleep.

I rush up the sidewalk as fast as I can towards the bus stop. I see the top of the bus coming over the hill, and I run full tilt to get there in time, lugging my ball and chain laptop over my shoulder. I make it to the bus and check work emails and Facebook and personal email and Instagram while the bus drives downtown.

Twenty minutes later, I exit the bus and walk 6 blocks to work. I notice the time and walk a little faster. I stop to buy a coffee and yogurt – not enough time for anything special. I make it to my desk in time to take off my coat and run to a meeting. Thirty minutes later, I eat my yogurt at my desk and scroll through new emails before another meeting begins.

After some work time, I go to buy lunch. Sometimes I get a moment to write or peruse online articles, but today is not one of those days. I eat at my desk and prep for a 1pm conference call. I put myself on mute and finish my lunch while listening to the call.

A few more hours of work trickle by, while answering urgent emails. An important one comes through: A project I was working on was suddenly delayed. I feel thwarted, as I had been working on it all day. I shift gears and start to work on something else. I get hungry, but am too absorbed in my tasks to get up from my desk.

My phone rings – it’s my husband. My daughter is crying in the background. “When are you leaving work?” he asks. “Could you swing by the store on your way? What do I make for dinner?” I frown as I look at the clock. It’s already 5pm.

“I’m leaving soon, don’t worry,” I say. “Yes, I’ll stop at the store.”

I try to get through the rest of what I was working on, but a few emails pop in that I need to answer. I remember I promised to send an email at the end of the day, but it’s already 5:25, and I need to leave. I decide to write the email from home. I pack up and leave the office.

I walk six blocks back to the bus stop. The next bus comes in 8 minutes. I scroll through email and Facebook and Instagram until the bus comes. I get on and continue scrolling. The bus slowly packs full of commuters and students for 20 minutes. I turn off my phone and rest my eyes.

I ride the bus one stop further than I usually do, and grab some groceries from the store up the street. “Double bag them please,” I say, “I’m walking home.” They oblige. The milk is heavy, but not as heavy as my laptop. I put on my gloves and head out the door.

I walk the four blocks to my house down the street. It’s a little icy, so I take it slow. It’s after 6pm. I’ve been out of the house since 8am. I stop and look up at my house from the street and take a deep breath. I know this is my last silent moment before crossing the threshold into chaos again. My daughter wanting to spend time with me. My husband ready to leave and get out. The dog demanding to play.

Breathe in. Breathe out. The moon was out and shining already.

I climb the stairs, open the door and smile. My time will wait. My life is for them at this moment. I will have to answer and send that email later. I will have time to write and read my book later. I can watch Netflix later. I can run to the store later. I will see my friends later.

My daughter’s face lights up when I come in the house. The dog runs around excitedly in circles. My husband looks relieved.

These days are busy and full and exhausting. It’s hard to be mindful. It’s hard to stay present. But I try. I do it for them, and I do it for me. I can’t do anything else.

The world peers in with loving glances. I am suddenly grateful for my exhausting days. Grateful for my husband and daughter and demanding dog. Grateful I have a moment to stand still in the moonlight. On the outside looking in. Grateful for the world. Grateful for this life.

Breathe in. Breathe out. Love.


Dear Daughter,

You are almost 2 years old and I’m not sure where the time has gone. And weirdly enough, I am already bracing for the time when I won’t see you every day. When you will leave home and live a life that runs parallel to my own, and not still on my track. You are so much more than I ever hoped for in a daughter. You are so young, yet truly – know that I feel this deeply.

Having you in my arms is the most complete feeling I have ever known. This is saying a lot, I know, but you are a piece of me – and it has never been more evident that you are a piece of myself that has been knocked loose and will never rejoin. I have to be happy with the feeling of complete non-completeness. With the feeling that there is a hole that will never be filled. But yet – a hole that was meant to be?  A hole that was destined to be there?

Yes, yes, a resounding YES. Not one single, infinitesimal regret.

In this way, you have taught me what the word ‘children’ really means. I’ve read it a thousand times and I’ve never truly understood it until now. The concept of ourselves as children – or the children of God – never made perfect sense until you have revealed this to me: That we are all children –  both of our parents and as pieces of God –  knocked loose, never to rejoin. Complete non-completeness.

But God, as the parent, exists in perfect love, perfect stillness, never judging, always embracing, as we embark on a parallel track to His own. A bittersweet, joyous and momentous occurrence. A feeling, a place, that I could not begin to fathom before now.

Thank you V, so much, for choosing me.
Love and endless Light, your Mama

Kernels Within

Children are so much work. But I try to observe and let them shine through to me the truth of human nature. And what have I seen?

These little people are pure mischief, pure energy, pure sadness, pure curiosity and pure joy. These are the kernels of which all adults in this world are borne from, and of which still lie deep within. As we reconnect ourselves with nature, god and the pure energy of life, we rekindle these kernels in the fire that was submerged by expectation.

Smothered by the will of others.

As a mother, I am now constantly aware of these false constructions that our society builds, the constructs of expectation, and how easily – and eagerly – we fall into them. How can we grant the freedom of these pure kernels of the soul to express themselves fully? How can we unleash them so that we may live as ourselves, truly?

A few thoughts before I head into the mountains for a few days, untethered from the wires of society that cradle us so strongly. May we be aware of those wires and work together to fray them even just a little bit, so that we may live a little more connected to the pureness within – and not from the false concoctions without.

No worry, no fear

The Mother post I wrote a few weeks ago has struck a chord in me about creation and catalysts. It occurred to me that in those moments that I previously described that seemed so full of clarity, there was more going on than just standard decision-making… these decisions were devoid of fear. In those moments, there was absolutely no fear, no worry – only certainty. There was only faith and wisdom and knowing.

I just read a very great passage in a book talking about the difference of fear, worry, love and kindness. It said that in worry and fear, we accomplish nothing. In love and in kindness, ALL things are accomplished.

So what things in my life are still holding me back, what fears are holding me hostage? What things do I need to let go in order to live freer, more untethered, more infinite than I have been before?

I am certain that this is what caused these important moments to impress upon my soul and lead me forward. Because when I think back on them and recall them from my memory I can only remember the intuition and firm ‘knowingness’ of the moment; Of joy, and love, and that feeling of infinite possibilities. Infinite love. Oh, what a feeling.

This is the feeling I want most in my life, and in order to have it I need to let go. No fear, no worry. Strength in my wisdom, confidence in my person, and love in the creator, who allows this to be.

The more tangible things I fear that give me anxiety – not having money, living in debt, financial crisis – seem like small mountains compared to other things I could be worried about. But you know what? All of these things are surmountable. They are mortal problems to be solved. Why are they holding me back so much??

Such are the things that sit around in my mind, hanging on until I get them out into words and living, breathing concepts. I hope they plant a seed and grow oh-so-much bigger.


This isn’t meant to be a ‘Mom’ blog by any means, but I am a mother and this is an aspect of my life that I cannot avoid and think about a lot.

I remember clearly the night I was falling asleep, and I was musing about my future and what I wanted to do, in those half-reality/half-dream thoughts, and I said to myself: “I should like to be a mother one day. I want to have that experience.” Strange that I remember that small moment, but it was a pretty impactful one. I am a very loving person, and I always assumed that I would be a mom one day and have a family, but I was never quite sure of it – kids intimidated me, birth terrified me, and being a parent seemed insurmountably overwhelming. So when I finally, quietly, said to myself that this is what I wanted, it was like a small affirmation to my future – a prayer and a calling for what was to come. A moment in my life when I knew something deeply, intuitively; the kind of moment that comes with strings that pull you to where you want to go…

I felt this same feeling when I was hanging out with my future husband when I was 17. It was late in the evening, and we had gone back to his parent’s house after watching a movie with friends and were having ice cream at his kitchen table. I was wearing a necklace with a Chinese symbol on it for love or something like that, and we talked vaguely about what we wanted in the future for our love lives. We were not dating at that time, but while we were chatting I felt that feeling distinctly – I knew in my heart that this was the person for me. Funny that I don’t remember at all what we said to each other but I do remember the feeling. Isn’t it quite a testimony to the role that emotions play in our lives that they should trump the rational intellect so easily?

I have had more of these deep-feel moments in my life, mostly involving spiritual epiphanies or passages I’ve read in books. But these moments do not compare to the two I describe above. Why though?

The spiritual thoughts I have are uplifting and engaging and transforming – but they pale in comparison with the decisions above that determined the path of my life and the definition of my experience. The deep feelings and affirmations of wanting to be a mother, and feeling the conviction of the future with the person in front of me were powerful catalysts of creation.

In these moments I made decisions, deep decisions, and they were of my own creation. The power of creation was tangible in these moments. When you create from the deepest part of your heart and soul, it is unforgettable.

Being a mom was something society always told me I was going to be – inevitable, really. But when I said the affirmation and made the decision, this redefined me as a person at that moment. And becoming a mother has changed me greatly, in ways that I could not have fathomed in my life before and that are hard to put into words: A greater depth of feeling? A more human-centered empathy for life? A greater drive to help people? An enlightenment of the human experience?

I think all of these, and this is just the beginning. Thank you dear daughter for coming to me and hearing my call of creation into the wilderness. I hope this Mother thing leads to amazing roads and discoveries beyond our imaginations.