Revived
The simple act of walking to see what I might see.
Alignment
I’ve lived out of alignment for much of my life. Out of alignment with my true self. Shaped by the expectations of others. Skeleton literally curved to satisfy my own need for approval. Balanced precariously. Unable to orient myself. A body stuck in the fawn response (a cousin to the well-known fight, flight, and freeze). Center of gravity not balanced over my own feet. Not grounded in any way. Body tension that almost lifted me off the ground. Back pain, neck pain, feet pain. Digestive woes.
But now I am well on my way toward a healthy alignment. A knowledgeable physical therapist helped me to breathe my way into mobility. I spent a lot of time blowing into a kazoo, breathing to make a pinwheel spin, and blowing up a balloon over and over again. All to learn to create harmony so that my diaphragm and pelvic floor worked together.
Alignment.
A well-trained and kind counselor held up a mirror for me to see myself clearly so that I might become aware of the old patterns that no longer worked for me. To set boundaries and welcome all the parts. To heal old wounds.
Alignment.
Lifelong friends listened patiently and held space for me to change, even as the changes meant that I showed up differently for them.
Alignment.
My husband and my children supported me in ways both big and small. Plenty of times I overshot the mark, pulling us apart or smashing us together. All in pursuit of those overlapping, healthy circles the counselor described to me.
Alignment.
My favorite way to avoid discomfort is to intellectualize the problem. I tried many times and many ways to fix myself. But now I feel in my bones, I was never broken. This freedom is hard won, and still ongoing, but I can see progress every where I look. Have you ever taken pictures with a range finder camera? To focus, you line up two small boxes in the view finder. When you line those boxes up, stacked one on top of the other, the subject comes into focus and the picture turns out successfully. This is what I am trying to do in my life. Stack the pieces of myself.
In Alignment.
Tea & Cookies
Tea Infuser Collection, November 2025
Because I couldn’t decide which version of this photo I like best, there are two notebook entries for this collection of tea infusers. We love what we love, and for me, things that combine form and function are the most beautiful.
I drove an hour to the Jackson and Company Market in Gordonsville to buy this little stack of homemade cherry almond cookies. I savor one each night with a cup of decaf Lady Earl Grey tea.
It’s no small thing to take care of myself in all of these ways. Some difficult and uncomfortable: putting my work in this space and letting it land how it lands. And other ways soft and gentle: having a cookie, not because I am hungry, or because it is healthy, but simply for the joy of eating. A practice of self-love.
Cherry Almond Cookies, Jackson and Company Market, November 2025
Another Pot O' Tea
Another Pot O’ Tea, November 2025
One summer, when my son Jacob was about 10 years-old (around 2007) , he helped me work on a scrapbook. Or maybe he was working on his own scrapbook. All I can recall for certain is that he spent hours in our dining room turned craft studio making something. Colorful card stock, stickers, glue, scissors, hole punches, do-dads and lots of colored pens.
I was determined to complete a family photo album. I’ve always had a hard time working to music (I usually require silence for deep work), but that summer, I found something that soothed my spirit as I worked. A compact disc player and an old CD by Anne Murray. We must have listened to that CD over fifty times, and one song, Another Pot O’ Tea, stuck in our heads forever. (The song Another Pot o' Tea was written by Paul Grady and was first recorded and released by Anne Murray in 1974.) I can’t say why the song stuck for Jacob, only that he still recalls it to this day. But for me, the song will always remind me of that sweet time when your children are connected to you like your hand is connected to your arm. An extension of you—so exquisite that you cannot imagine your life without it. This is the phase of child development when children think the sun rises and sets in their mother, before they begin the necessary work of separating from their parents. I can picture the scene. I feel the warm breeze coming in the window. I hear Anne Murray’s soft melody. Mother and son working side-by-side in harmony. It’s a beautiful memory. Put on another pot o’ tea.