Restorative Rituals for
Mental Health

Meaningful Self Care
for Moms


Anyways, breathe.
Pausing here, as I write the words,
to feel the oxygen filling me
as if for the first time.
This is life.
The day to day,
hour to hour,
minute to minute.
The waves of exasperation and irritation,
and yes,
shame and guilt and uncertainty too,
dancing amongst the touches
of beauty and joy.
The mundane, spinning with the ecstasy.
The dog barking at 6 am on Saturday,
and coming down to a sink full of dirty dishes.
The unconditional love of a dog,
and the food we ate for dinner last night.
No way to have one without the other.
No way to have the brilliant sparks of stars
without the haunting shadows of dark.
And so we practice somehow,
to be with it all and all of it.
Without choosing, without preference,
just breathing,

Mindful Mondays

  • 41

    As I enter into my 41st year, I felt a sudden desire to return here to my blog and write.  It has been awhile.  I have shared poems and other words on social media, and a few here as well.  But, it has been some time since I have sat down to reflect, write out

  • Hold On

    For you whose light has been dimmed in an already dark world— For you whose voice has been muted in a loud screaming world— For you who feels lost in a world full of mirrors— Breathe. When every warm body is out of reach, you have the power to hold your own heart with a

  • Waking Up

    Holding hands in the dark, the wash of moonlight spilling onto the sheets. A kiss on my cheek and a hug that lingers long enough to feel the solid warmth of skin and bone. The breath of a sunset sky, and the heat of thunder and lightning pouring cleansing waters from above. A singular burgundy