๐ You built your life around being easy to get along with. You hide your vulnerable bits under your general competence, a thick armor of humor, and always being there for everyone else. And then life tilts over without your permission. Heartbreak. Soul ache. Grief that wonโt stay in its lane. All piling up until you j u s t. c a n โt. b r e a t h e. ๐ฟ I help capable women stop believing they have to earn their worth, especially when itโs not just their plans that fall apart, but their sense of who they are. ๐ So if you feel all gooโd up like a caterpillar in a cocoon, Iโm your gal. Iโm both the stick that holds you and your guide through the goo, so you can emerge intact when youโre ready to move rooted through the world again. ๐ป I live on the Olympic Peninsula, just around the bend from my beloved Lake Crescent, with Blue and Micky (the dogs), ๐พKatniss and Rue (the cats), ๐ Justin (the semi-retired fisherman), and an opinionated herd of elk who insist my lone pear tree is theirs. ๐ฆ
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My mother, Zoom, and a very timely burger ๐
Published about 2 months agoย โขย 4 min read
Earlier in the week, I learned that Wendell Berry died. I know Wendell Berry from his poem The Peace of Wild Things. It's one of the poems I return to again and again when the world feels like too much. When despair for the world grows in me and I wake in the night โฆ I go and lie down where the wood drake rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds. This is exactly what I do โฆ I came across a tribute to Berry and his lifelong question of how to live well in relationship with...
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