Living Soils class reflection: deep nourisment

I feel like I slipped and fell, landing right in Living Soil. When I think back to the beginning of my Living Soils journey, I was living in a fog. Over the past two and a half almost three years I have experienced so much emotional and physical trauma, so many dramatic life changes, that I have felt like I’ve been floating through my life, not really able to think about my future without a surge of terror and pain, not quite here. Floating. My poor distracted brain trying to negotiate and understand such dramatic life changes and challenges that more of my energy was taken up with these inward processes than the outward process of life itself. This summer, I broke my foot. Badly. I was on crutches for 12 weeks (double the length of time for a “normal” bone fracture). My independence was stripped, I was unable to transport myself, unable to do many mundane, everyday tasks without assistance, could not get to my beloved mountains, could not “blow off steam” through any form of exercise (which had become my life-line for negotiating grief, depression, anxiety, as well as providing myself with the therapy of physical movement—attempting to match the turmoil and chaos that raged within). Although there is never a good time to be down with a severe injury, the summer time seemed especially difficult for me as it marked the second anniversary of the sudden and tragic death of my father. Emotional pain fueled physical pain, physical fueled emotional….I struggled with depression and apathy; it was impossible for me to exist in the present moment so I spent much of my time thinking about all the amazing things I would be able to do once healed. I had to up my dosage of pain medication around the anniversary of dad’s death as I struggled on many levels to make it from one day to the next. I tried with all my might to keep a healthy attitude; I wrote gratitudes in my journal, I spent a lot of time reading in the sunshine, soaking up the beauty of this place I call home, I continued to practice yoga daily (learning to become quite creative in my practice), I spent a lot of time soaking at Amaya, and I began to come to Turtle Lake Refuge for lunch more and more frequently. I learned more about plant medicine and bone health and healing; developed a profound relationship with comfrey (among other helpful plants), and continued to remind myself that the universe was teaching me powerful lessons about slowing down, literally, for a reason. But despite all this, I was struggling, I was numb, I was floating. Someone told me about Living Soils….and I thought why not? I was planning on completing my 200 hour Yoga Teacher training in the fall through Yoga Durango. I‘ve always been interested in holistic health, as well as spending lots of time in the mountains and woods….i had had an introduction to the wonderful world of wild plants and plant medicine through Deb Buck when she taught at a yoga and dance retreat that I participated in as I was taking my first steps, still supported by a single crutch…and I had loved the idea of developing a relationship with the plants. Deb introduced us to the idea of plant communication, and led us through a journey to the underworld meditation. I was impacted profoundly by that first plant journey, where I met and spoke with comfrey herself. I left that retreat feeling more grounded, more present, and more fully myself than I had in a long time…. And yet I still had (still have) so far to go. I did not even realize how fragile, vulnerable, feeble, and lifeless I had become until I began to slowly emerge, to build, to grow, to strengthen over the past several months. I feel so vivacious, so strong, so energetic, so positive, so vibrant now. I feel more deeply myself than I think I have ever been. I feel loved, supported, nurtured, whole. What a journey this time has been for me. I now realize, as I reflect, what a crucial part of my healing this class and this community have been. My journey to Living Soils, I’ve said, began when I broke my foot. But I think it began much before that. I’ve always had a passion for health and learning about nutrition, alternative therapies, and “kitchen cabinet medicine”—i.e. using plants and foods to heal. I am grateful, now, as I look back, that I had built up such a strong support network for myself before my dad died, of naturopaths, healers, and friends. Because after his death, I could hardly take care of myself—daily tasks such as eating, getting out of bed, showering became huge mountains to climb. I had trouble connecting with friends and community—I just could not understand daily life and daily experience when my entire experience consisted of terrible pain, horrifying memories, shock, disbelief, and the struggle to simply continue putting one foot in front of the other. My world felt foreign, lonely, desolate, boring. I tried to remind myself constantly of the beauty—of the power of love that I could feel so terrible. But it was difficult. Still is in moments. But no I can look back on those initial weeks and months of darkness with joy and love and say “look how far I’ve come”. I think the experience of losing my father has enabled me to now connect on a much deeper level to community, to joy, to health, and to life. The person I am now is very different from the person who lost her father. I am stronger, happier, more positive, more vibrant, more able to let the little stuff go, more present, more loving… and most of all more grateful for every precious moment. In many ways, I think the experiences of the past two years prepared me to really explore and discover, to connect, to take in and to let go of the ideas, relationships, and experiences of this class. Most importantly, I’ve learned to be more authentic to myself; this class deepened that ability as it both pushed me and nurtured me. When I came to Living Soil I was hungry. I was hungry for nourishment--my soul bruised and exhausted. I was hungry for community and support and love; most importantly and deeply I was hungry for self-love. And now, as I write this, tears run down my face because I realize how much more than a “food class” the experience of living soil has been for me. I have been deeply, deeply nourished. Mind. Body. Spirit. All. And I am so deeply grateful to have had such an opportunity to learn, for the sake of learning and exploration, at a time when I was so ripe for it. I am so grateful to have been in an environment that enabled me to learn to love myself. Deeply. There were moments during class when I wondered why I was taking it, times when I felt pushed outside of my comfort zone, times when I did not want to know because I wanted to stay within my comfort zone and I was told that I was hurting myself by doing so. I felt pushed away from raw foods when Kevin and Isabelle taught (I’ve since found out many of us had that reaction) because of the radical and aggressive energy they brought to class. I tried to tell myself that I appreciated their energy and enthusiasm, as I rebelled in the following weeks cooking more and eating more animal products than usual….but in the end I learned a valuable lesson from them. I discovered that lecturing people and trying to force your view of health, nutrition, what we should be eating on others often times backfires because you are taking no time to appreciate the other, the audience, the patient. I have found in my own experience that approaches like Dr. Nicola’s have the most profound impact on people. I have most especially found this with myself. There have been moments during this class when I’ve tried to make radical changes in my food and nutrition choices, only to fail miserable, then feeling badly about myself I end up far in the opposite direction from where I was trying to go. I have found that if I am more compassionate, loving, understanding, and realistic with myself and my needs, I tend to naturally gravitate toward healthier choices. And I’ve managed to stick to my motto through-out the class: everything in moderation, even moderation;). That means that I allowed myself to eat crackers (gluten free with lots of healthy seeds and yumminess) with cheese and avocado after dinner because I was still hungry and my body was craving fat and protein; that I enjoyed my glass of wine tonight. And that I refuse to judge myself even if I go on a major junk food binge (which is happening less and less as my body is beginning to crave healthier foods and most especially green drink). I say to myself: oh that’s interesting. Aren’t I cute. And I move on. Let it go. Get back to being joyful and free. Yep, I’ve brought my yoga practice into my food practice☺ what a beautiful marriage. One class that sticks out in my mind is the one with Pat Blair. I loved her advice to “follow your giddy”. And Katrina: I so appreciate your wonderful positive energy. You are so, so joyful and encouraging of others, and you bring a wealth of healthy foods and ideas to others… without ever making other people feel judged, or like you are pressing any sort of agenda upon them. I am so grateful to have such a wonderful mentor, role model, and friend. I realize, as I write this, how much I learned about health and happiness and how connected they are. I am so grateful to have had such positive influences and motivation during a time in my life when I am re-defining who I am and the daily choices I make. All of our instructors contributed to my healing, growth, and self-discovery. Whether instructors made me run the opposite direction, or want to be just like them, I learned something valuable; I learned to listen to my inner teacher more and more closely, I learned to experiment and explore and that I do not have to do anything by anyone else’s “book”. I learned to allow myself a bit more wildness, freedom; and I learned how to nourish myself even when I feel so utterly depleted I don’t quite know what to do. I learned that a big liter of green drink can go a long way towards revitalizing every cell in my being when I’m run down—whether its from too many hours spent in the hospital helping my mother through surgery, or from many miles of exploration on my bicycle or running. I have learned that it takes a community to support the individual—whether we are talking about plants or humans. I have learned to continue exploring, discovering, trying new things, always checking in with the Self. And I have learned to always to stop and question and check in with Self and with Mother earth. I have learned to reach out my arms, to open and expand my heart, and love comes running right into my embrace. I have learned that love really does make this world go round. I have been told that for a while I was standing with one foot in life, this life, and one foot in death—the other side. I know this is true as I look back on the past two years of putting one foot in front of the other. The fogginess. The terrible anger. The uncontrollable tears. The feeling that my chest was ripping into a million splinters of glass. The chaos. The alienation. The aloneness. The loneliness. The fear. And. Yet. The joy. The gratitude. The connection. The love. I have learned to connect ever and ever more deeply to my own “divine courage, freedom, and Light” (hafiz). I have learned to let others in… and the vital role of community and love in healing. I have learned to allow plants, as well as people, to help me heal, to guide me toward my deepest needs, and my deepest fulfillments. I have learned to be flexible, fluid, and child-like with my curiosity and desire to learn, explore, and discover. I have learned that the worst thing I can do for myself and others is to become rigid and firm in my beliefs. I try to remain graceful and fluid like the wind and the waters of this planet. I dance upon this beautiful earth with joy. I open my arms and my heart for all the world; whatever experiences come my way I try to embrace with love and gratitude. I think the words of Hafiz profoundly explain my experience: my deep learning not only about foods, nutrition, and health but of life and the human experience. So I leave you with the words of a poem, read to me for the first time by Katrina herself, as we gathered, celebrating life, community, love, and wildness outside the dream cave last Wednesday evening. If the falling of a hoof If the falling of a hoof Ever rings the temple bells, If a lonely man’s final scream Before he hangs himself And the nightingale’s perfect lyric Of happiness All become an equal cause to dance, Then the Sun has at last parted Its curtain before you— God has stopped playing child’s games With your mind And dragged you backstage by The hair, Shown to you the only possible Reason For this bizarre and spectacular Existence. Go running though the streets Creating divine chaos, Make everyone and yourself ecstatically mad For the Friend’s beautiful open arms. Go running through this world Giving love, giving love, If the falling of a hoof upon this earth Ever rings the Temple Bell. Thank you Katrina, thank you to everyone who was a part of Living soil for giving love, for giving love. And for nurturing me back to myself. Back to health. Back to love. Back to Self. I am oh so grateful for this wonderful community, and this wonderful knowledge I have discovered.

blissful birthday

I think today was the best birthday i’ve ever had...and more people wished me a happy birthday than ever before-via text messages, facebook and e-mail its amazing! how many people sent me well wishes...i realize how incredibly loved and supported i am. so many people love me so much. and i feel so incredibly supported--so many people really want this net phase of my life to be happy and joyful. and i know i have drawn so much of this good energy into my life. so much love and abundance and fun fun fun. lots of love and laughter--i had trouble finishing conversations with people because so many people kept talking to me. I have created such amazing friendships in such a short period of time! i’m amazed at myself when i stop to take stock of where i am at and what i am doing....how i am moving through my life.. . i am so happy right now. and even though its 230 in the morning i am so wired on the fun of my party and am floating on absolute bliss.

I am really living it. to the fullest. savoring the moment. . . packing so much into my days--i realize i am always so busy! in a good way--i get a lot into my days and i enjoy many blessings in my life. so many amazing people in my life. so much to do so much to see to explore just gotta get out there and live it!!!!! and i’m really truly doing it. i am so proud of myself and so so grateful! my heart is bursting-wide open and just look at all that i’ve allowed in.

I feel my father's pride pulsating around me. and his love. I know he stands by my side truly cheering me on as i maneuver my way through this upheaval and transformation. I am so blessed to have the resources and support to grow and shine so much through all the pain and sadness in my life. Tragedy is opportunity for growth and amazing self-discovery. I am so grateful to be able to see.

One regret, dear world,
That I am determined not to have
When I am lying on my deathbed
Is that
I did not kiss you enough.

-Hafiz

Finally: Reunited with words

And yet, there is only
One great thing
The only thing.
To live to see in huts and on journeys
The great day that dawns,
And the light that fills the world
-from an Inuit song




I have been meaning to start up my blog again for so long. Well now, I find myself with a broken foot, unable to drive, unable to walk--crutching around instead. And I realized I must return to writing. But this time I am returning with a renewed energy. I want to share my story as it has evolved. As I have returned again and again to a source of deep inner strength cultivated through the loss of my father. Everything I have experienced has prepared me for this moment. And though at times i forget and feel weak, vulnerable, my smaller self. This journey, I am discovering Me. Authentic Me. And every day is a new unfolding.
My whole experience of life is like the lotus flower unfolding beauty with every petal.

Life is crazy. such a gift that we so easily take for granted. precious. it’s true that the body is a temple. the temple. in its most pure and organic form i believe. we find divine love in our hearts. more than anywhere else. The heart is the place where Spirit comes to meet us. divinity within.

i’ve decided to look at my broken foot as a gift. now is the time to draw inward too practice more meditation and to write (finally returning to writing) it feels good to actually sit with myself and ask myself how I am feeling because it has been a while. although i miss running, this challenge is another opportunity for growth. I am developing more and more of a home yoga practice as that is all i can do. i am learning Pilates. and soon i hope i will be able to swim. then bike. and now is a time for reflection for healing--i think the universe is telling me that i need time to truly heal. to sit down! with myself in truth and ask myself how i am truly feeling. and write and feel my heart and to allow grief to move through me. finding freedom and that inner fountain of pure bliss that is free from grief and suffering. I connect with my heart and with the heart of the world as I share in the universal human experience of pain.

Pain, if we let it, as we move through it, is our greatest teacher. It opens us up for a greater capacity for compassion. empathy. love and understanding. I am trying to allow my experiences to be my teachers and everyday I grow. doors are always opening around us. doors of opportunity for growth learning loving. we must learn to be mindful and pay attention. I want to be present and experience every gift life has to offer me. although so many times gifts accompany pain.

I will always carry my father in my heart most of all and I am so grateful for so many dear memories. such a wonderful man--i was so so lucky to have had him as my daddy. I cannot imagine a better father and he will always be my number one role model. He showered me with love and understanding and taught me so much about the world and my health and my soul. thank you dad for all the wonderful gifts you’ve given me.

and of course i have grown so much from his death and the experience of losing him. I am so strong. And i continue to dive deeper and deeper into my spiritual journey. into my soul. i ask myself questions i never would have thought to ask before. i feel deeply connected to the world. because part of life is pain. deep pain and suffering and in this very human experience i feel alive and connected to the pulse of the whole earth. my pain is shared by so many who grieve. nature herself must be grieving the destruction of her skin.

Lost and Found

I've been losing things lately. Actually, that is one reason I haven't posted anything for a long while. Yep, lost my computer. My purse, my favorite sunglasses, my dad's bike, my favorite jacket, deleted all of my music off of my ipod... I've since recovered most of the material items. But have been thinking a bit about this problem. I know mom and I are both still pretty detached from reality. We talked recently about how we are both still in denial--I catch myself thinking constantly, "can it be that he's really gone? as in he's really not coming back?" my poor little brain cannot fathom that, so back to the moment I go and away I float. My loss of material items is almost a reflection of the greater losses in my life. And yet, i have learned that material items have little value in that they are replaceable (of course the things that were my dad's I'd really rather keep). Perhaps these losses should provide me with a wake-up call: I forget, sometimes, how i am utterly immersed in grief, even if I am having fun and enjoying my life in the meantime. I have this huge weight to carry, and I forget that part of my energy, part of my brain, and a huge part of my life are consumed, daily, by this grief. It's not a bad thing, it just is.

Mom and I are doing the best we can. We had a wonderful day on her birthday, April 14. I made breakfast, then off for a leisurely hike up Sand Canyon. We found a beautiful spot to sit and eat lunch. And of course the conversation turned to dad. We laughed, cried, shared in our missing him. And we agreed that he was proud of us and what we were doing that day. In a way, I feel like I honor him every time I venture out into nature, it meant so much to him. We really enjoyed each other, and that is so refreshing when we have so much stress on our relationship. It is fun to watch mom's recovery as she climbs back on the bike, and back into her hiking boots. Away we go! I am so proud of her:) In a way, that day, we found our relationship--for a moment. But however brief those moments are, we treasure them, and they will grow.

SO back to the counselor I have gone, and it feels good to acknowledge that I still need HELP! 9 months later, it is still fresh. I wonder if it will ever begin to ease, and yet it has begun. I find relief in nature, in activity, from friends. I have never before realized the extent to which we need one another. Friends can be family. Our friends have lifted my mother and I up from our "dark holes" as I like to refer to the darkest moments of depression and grief. Sometimes you just need a little nudge, a little movement, something to get that inertia back. Sometimes, I need to be picked up and held. Sometimes mom and I are able to do that for each other. Sometimes it is asking too much. But always, we are surrounded by a network of love and support. I feel the energy, being back in colorado, of all the caring of the community. And I feel so lucky to have the opportunity to see such good in humanity. So this began as a brief reflection, and is ending in a thank you. Thank you for listening, for the hugs, the smiles--even the smallest positive interaction can change my entire day. Thank you for your support and for being my teachers and friends and family.

I love nature

"Life is too tragic for sadness: Let us rejoice." --Edward Abbey

My new friend asked me today whether I was fond of Ed. Abbey. My brain reacted strangely to that question. Of course I thought. Then the memory. Of dad, his feet, his hiking boots, his gators. He was just a body. At that moment, I had thought about edward abbey. I thought "Dad, Abbey would be jealous. God damnit!" I debated telling my friend about that memory. People don't know what to say when I share the memories that surface so, so much. I like talking about it and it is healing. SO I finally want to write again. And I want to continue to share my story.

I miss dad, but I have been getting out into nature oh So much! and I love it and just today I went hiking with my neighbor and friend up the ridge behind out houses (crazy dog madness! my dog ran away. twice. and then we found a crazy lost dog... couldn't catch him...even tried the whole food thing. eventually I was able to grab him though and he was super friendly--just a bit of a nut. His daddy was glad to have him back. And I found mack, eventually, all um... 4 times? he took off after squirrels or deer or birds and didn't come back for a long time... oops. I'm glad to have him back now.



I miss him so much. I talk to friends--old and new-- here in durango and they talk about adventure with their parents. And I miss him. I want to be able to go camping and skiing and enjoy beautiful pristine wonderful earth--with my dad. with my family. But I have to think like dad thought, what can Cheryle and I still do together and enjoy? Mom is healing fast and doing well, but I can't WAIT for us to start biking again--i really enjoy riding with her and am so glad that we can do a sport together.


That is how I am dealing now. I love nature. I have been playing in the sun and the glorious outdoors. and its addictive. and wonderful and natural and healthy to be active and to be outside. I love durango. I forgot how sunny and amazing it is here.

Thinking bout abbey a lot now. And I crave adventure. THank you dad for that. Now I shall venture out to explore the world and I will carry him with me in spirit and I treasure all of our wonderful memories out there together. And all the wonderful memories I have with both of them and all of the adventures I will have with mom.

"But love of the wilderness is more than a hunger for what is always beyond reach; it is also an expression of loyalty to the earth which bore us and sustains us, the only home we shall ever know, the only paradise we ever need - if only we had eyes to see." --Ed Abbey

Joy

"From joy all beings are born,
By joy they are all sustained,
And into joy they again return."

-Taittiriga Upanishad



This quote is one I found in my dad's stuff after he died. He had written it by hand and stuck it in his top dresser drawer, along with cards--most of them from mom or me, old passports and other special paraphernalia. (I found a copy of a paper i wrote sophomore year of college about The Clash in the bottom of the madness) I made a copy, it spoke to me. And I find it comforting. I imagine my father thinking of death as "returning to joy" and I remember the raven I saw flying over us just after he died on the mountain, and I think "you are free now. part of the wind and the earth and that quiet, timeless place that is at the center of us all where there is no suffering, only joy."

I have found something unexpected in my grief. Page and I were talking about this peculiarity, and she agreed, she said, "I was surprised by how much we laughed those first few days!" Laugher truly is medicine. It relieves tension, it lifts some of the heaviness of grief, and it brings our minds into the present moment.

I want to live my life seeking joy, and spreading joy. Finding joy, living in the present moment: I can learn from my dog, Mackney. He is so damn happy!

So I guess you could say I have been on a quest for joy. I have been listening to the child part of myself and playing. Naute is healing an wholesome. I feel a sense of deep inner peace, and comfort when I am out in nature. And there is a sense of exploration and playfulness. I believe life is what we decide to make it. But balance is everything. We have goals, but we can become consumed by them. We also must play, and let the universe guide us to some extent. I believe everything falls into place as it should. Opportunities come when they are supposed to . Each life experience prepares us for something that follows.

I feel right being in Durango now. Sunshine makes my quest for joy less of a battle. I feel closer to my dad. And mom and I are together. as we should be now. My dog is a great friend, and I find myself laughing and enjoying much of the time. Yes, it is always lurking somewhere in my brain. I see him passing out. I see his glasses, broken, lying on the rock. I think "goddamnit! why couldn't I have thought to remove his helmet to better open his airway. I see his body lurching as CPR was performed. I think about these things in the grocery store. Driving. In the middle of conversations--little things are triggers. skiing, hiking, playing with mackney, out with friends, alone at home. THose memories are a part of me now. But the vividness of that day is fading a bit. It does not feel real. It didn't then. It doesn't now, almost 8 months later. It never will. It is shifting now. I am starting to focus more on missing dad because of all of our happy memories together. Because he was my best friend, constant adventure partner, guide, protector, "Mr. Fix-it", he was my daddy. And I loved him with all my heart and I thank him for teaching me the depth and power of love. The love I felt for him as he was dying was the most powerful thing I have ever felt. And the void that he has left is so deep, I cannot comprehend.

I ask myself, sometimes, Ok, how do I do this? Can I really step out into the world today? Can I really figure out how to do this without asking dad? I am learning to rely much more on myself, because I have to. And he (and my wonderful mother of course) has given me the tools to figure these things out. It's just so damn hard. And I want to throw a temper tantrum. I don't want to figure this out alone! HELP me dad! But he can no longer help me in this world of living flesh.

So Ok, I think, just take it slow, one step at a time. I will figure out this whole new life. I will learn to function again, and along the way, joy is my savior. So I will reach out to joy for help. And I will play and explore and allow myself to still be a kid sometimes.

Pics: Happy memores bring me joy. DOing things I love with mom--Biking. Costa Rica!!! (pura vida) rafting. Mackney--a constant source of joy, love, company, and comfort.

"Past and future are in the mind only - I am now. "

-Sri Nisargadatta Mahara

missing dad...my amazing mother...spirituality???

Looking at my old post, I lost it. I miss my dad sooo much. The sight of his face hurts because I can no longer kiss the roughness of that cheek when he had not recently shaved. Because I can no longer be comforted by those arms. I still remember exactly how his back, his shoulders, his arms felt. That special comfort that can only come from being cradled by the arms of my father. I wonder if those memories, the memories of his physical body will fade with time? I hope they do not. I will miss them. But how do you record the memory of touch? I cannot express with words the exact contours of my fathers shoulder, his back, his cheek. Oh how I miss him.

I keep thinking, God, mom is such a trouper. She went through her period of grief I feel like. She was deliberating for longer than necessary over a lumpectomy versus a mastectomy. One day, she was talking to one of her friends on the telephone. "I guess next step is I decide what kind of surgery I am having," she said.

"You've already decided." I said. "You decided that first day, you're having a mastectomy."

She looked at me for a moment. Nodded, and passed this information on to her friend on the other line. From then on, when friends asked her, she said, "well Natalie said I've already decided what kind of surgery I'm going to have, so I guess I'm having a mastectomy," still a bit unsure. Still scared.

The day before surgery:doctors and more doctors... but we learned exactly what to expect the following morning... S-DAY... the big day. (We joked about it. I think it helped mom to joke and make light of it. I think laugher is therapy we should remember, because it has really helped us). But we ended that day with the energy-healing session. A very powerful experience, I felt my father's love, and his intense love for mom as it flowed through me. I am usually not one to speak quite so... I do not even know the word, I guess "other worldly"? or something... new agey? whatever. What I felt was powerful and intense and I think I felt that presence because I was open to whatever experience (or not) I felt while doing this "energy work" with mom. I have been interested in naturopathic, homeopathic....yada yada for a long time. And I feel like I am a fairly open person spiritually. I feel something. I do not feel the need to try to capture it with words. But it exists in the mountains. In the love that people have poured out to my mother (she has been "coated in prayer" by family), it exists in the mundane experience of the everyday--whatever joy or whatever experience--there is something to be gained, learned, appreciated, perhaps loved about every day. It may be something simple: somedays I decide that I am grateful that i can take deep breaths (I love yoga--so I appreciate that I can do...or attempt--like we all do--yoga), or I am so glad that i have a body that functions so well. I am grateful that I am learning to listen to my heart. Taking this semester off of school was difficult. I had so much pressure to "stay in school!" "finish now--just get it over with!"; yet, I decided to listen to what my gut feeling was: that I needed a break from school. And then, about two weeks into the new semester, my mom was diagnosed with breast cancer; with no husband to comfort her, to hug her, to take care of her. So I was called home. And now our family is together.

It feels right to be in Durango now. I am in my home town; the place where I grew up, where I took my first wobbly steps into the world--both physically and metaphorically, the place where my father is remembered, and it is the place where people knew him. And it is the place where I was introduced to change, and grief: death when my pony died, and then my grandfathers. I learned to let myself cry with my head buried on my dads chest. I would lift my head and see a big wet mark from my tears on his collared shirt. But he never cared. He just wanted to hug me.

Again--I miss him. Smiling. I know I always will. Always I will miss him intensely. But the pain is not as bad as it once was; it is not as sharp. It no longer takes my breath away to realize, again, that he is really gone.

I know mom misses him too. She says she is numb--maybe because she has already experienced so much pain and hardship in her life. But his love still is such a strong in our small family. Dad used to say he "counted his blessings" especially for me and for mom. I've been thinking lately that I "count my blessings" to have had such a tight family. To have had such an amazing father. To have grown up the way I did, learning to love, appreciate, and be comfortable in nature. I come from strong, steady roots. I admire both of my parents so much. They are role models, heros, and teachers--just as parents should be. And I "count my blessings" for my mom, for my family, for our friends, for all the love and prayers and thoughts sent our way.

Dad, even in his death, has left me with so, so many lessons. I think I am finally getting some of what he was trying to teach me all along. He wanted me to appreciate the present moment. Now I have to. Thinking about the future is painful. He wanted me to learn to love myself. And I have discovered so much of him, and so much of mom in myself over the past seven months. I love them so much, how can I not love those parts of myself, and with that beginning, I am learning to treat myself with acceptance, patience and love... always a work in progress.

Most of all, I appreciate my mother. Seeing her so vulnerable during surgery, I realized how intense my love is for her. And I have found an extra reserve of patience that seems to exist for the purpose of caring for a parent. I have done so much for her, and I have truly been doing (most of) it out of love. I love this women, who for so long cared for me. So I will do what I can to help her through this time.

In a way, helping mom has been cathartic. I have seen both of my parents at their absolute most vulnerable--my father as he died of his heart attack, my mother as she was put under and wheeled off for surgery. And after surgery, as she was only sort of in control of her body... she recovered ( and continues to recover) rapidly and well! But still,there were those moments. and it helps me now to be able to help mom. To be able to care for her. To not have lost her (they asked for her living will before she went under anesthesia). To watch her recover. I can help her. I no longer feel quite so helpless (a residual feeling after my fathers death on Long's Peak). And through helping her, perhaps, i am learning to trust myself again... I certainly feel like I am regaining strength.