H & I were making the rounds last week, shopping & purchasing supplies for our mini glamping trip & my upcoming trip to California.

He relentlessly pelted me with entreaties for treats & toys. Whew, he knows how to push my buttons & wait for the right opportunity. I obviously don’t want to get in the habit of always getting him something every time we go to the store. When does a toy or a treat not become special anymore?

Geez, but I get tired of saying no. So we’re at Target, the last stop of our errand running. I’ve held fast, & no extra trinkets have been purchased. We are at the area of the store in between the clothes & the toys. There before me is a rack of cheapie type of toys. The kind of toys that always seem a little disastrous, they never last very long.

There before me was a set of sand shaped jewels. My mind on our planned purchases & trips, I just glanced at the picture. Only $5 & there were a bunch of little jewels & rocks buried inside. Perhaps this would occupy him while I packed! Into the cart it went.

Nope. He needed my help to dig those tiny little buggars, er I mean ONE bugger out. There was only one rock! Shaped like a sugar cube of all things. Wtf? Did I just pay $5 for a brown cube shaped rock!? I was annoyed, but I didn’t pay enough attention to the package. It advertised for just 1 treasure to be dug from the inside.

Off he happily ran, clutching this $5 sugar cube rock. He held it the rest of the day & all the way to bedtime.

Motherhood is a lot like that. You plan, you expect, you scheme, but things often turn out much differently than what you plan for. You say no. You say yes. The unexpected happens. There’s no telling what will happen.

In AA they say, “Expectations are resentments waiting to happen.” I agree with this mostly, but I also think, damn am I allowed to dream up some expectations now & again?

I think I am as long as I can remember that just like that geniously marketed sand covered rock, things might now always be what they seem. My perception isn’t always the best one. I have to remind myself of this & defer to my Higher Power. Easier said than done, but there lies the path of least resistance.

I dropped H off yesterday with his grandparents. I’m at the airport now waiting for a flight to Long Beach, CA. I’m staying. For 9 days. I don’t know what to do with myself already. I see little kids all over & I miss him. I’m also deeply grateful for some alone time. It will be good to have a break from teaching too & take some yoga classes out there.

Wishing all of you out there a strange 5 dollar treasure in whatever form it takes.




Some pictures from our recent visit to the Oregon coast:

Mini-cabin at Misty River

View from the mini


Ecola State Park

Indian Beach

If you have a chance to go, I recommend exploring this area which is pretty direct west of Portland. The Oregon coast is very different than what I was formally used to in California. It’s rare to spot a bikini & it’s always wise to wear layers as it can be cold even in July! I’ve included some links below.

Misty River RV Park: we picked this for its proximity to Cannon Beach. I wanted to do a little mini-vacation for H & myself, but also be able to jaunt over (hour-ish jaunt) to CB to visit with family. It’s mainly an RV Park, but they also have 2 mini-cabins (we stayed in one) & 2 yurts.

Ecola State Park: if you park here (pretty drive uphill in the woods in Cannon Beach backyard) you have access to the park (trails & ocean views) or Indian Beach. You can walk down to the beach. This beach is great for exploring at low tide, a popular spot for surfers, & all other beach worthy things.

Blue Agate Cafe: this is in Oceanside. It’s off the beaten path as you have to back track up to the 101 from there, but worth it for the vibes & ocean views. Who doesn’t want to enjoy pancakes while staring at the ocean?

Cape Meares Lighthouse: & if you made it to Agate you might as well drive 5 more minutes & check this cute lighthouse out. There are also plenty of sweeping & grand views of the ocean to be had at this spot as well.

I love the Oregon coast. There is a sense of timelessness there. Everything is scenic, even the long drives are a joy.

Peace & love 🌊


Ever since I can remember I’ve struggled with my conceptions of my physical appearance. I’ve been curvy since those hormones smashed into me at age 12 & I swear if I just side glance a carbohydrate of any sort, my pants hug me a little tighter. I joke around with my mom that there’s some kind of crazy food survival gene in our dna, way back before electricity & grocery stores, our ancestors survived well on little food & constant activity.

I remember dieting like crazy in 2013 before Pow Wow, a big AA retreat out in Palm Springs. I bought a really cute bikini and didn’t dare to eat anything for days leading up to and during, knowing I was going to be wearing next to nothing most the time I was there! Pow Wow was fun. So many of my close friends were there, & I made deeper connections with new people.

A big group from Long Beach always goes, & knowing that bikinis were involved I purposely avoided it for many years. “Are you going to Pow Wow?!” friends would ask excitedly. “No, not me. It’s not my thing,” I would answer which was partially true, it’s stupid hot in Palm Springs in June even in the pool. Who signs up for that? I also knew what it would bring up. I didn’t want to face it. But for some reason that year I dug in & set a goal for myself, to lose weight, & do the unimaginable: To feel comfortable in a bathing suit in public. I think that this mindset was growth, not all the way to self love, but part of the journey to get there.

I look back on the pictures, & can see my physical body & how thin I looked. But I also see the look in my eyes & remember how I felt. Alone. Desperate. Confused. Sad. Even though I was thin I wasn’t happy. Gasp, right?

I still wasn’t enough. It didn’t matter how much weight I lost. There was something deep inside me that wasn’t fully healed.

Giving birth to my son has put me on a different path. Being pregnant was liberating. There was no more, “just me.” What I ate & the physical activity I took directly affected this growing baby inside of me.

It wasn’t all about me anymore.

I truly believe that one of the keys to growth & change is unselfishness.

I gave birth & when you have a small infant to care for, you’re too busy to be obsessive about the way you look. I stopped straight ironing my hair on the regular. I stopped wearing heels. The baby weight didn’t go anywhere. I realized that there are much more important things in life than looking like a magazine cover.

I started becoming obsessed with esteemable acts & with self care instead of the way I look on the outside.

Those esteemable acts started in early sobriety. Whenever I would bring up my low self esteem, my sponsor in Long Beach would always point me in that direction. I witnessed this in action as I watched her with us (her sponsees), at AA functions, & everywhere else. She liked to have fun but you better believe that she was there to serve too. Like a muscle to be worked, the more I focus on helping others & self care, more whole I grow. It’s taken me a long time to get to this place. I didn’t really choose to get here, although I’m so grateful I did. I never wanted to do esteemable acts instead of thinking about myself all the time. It’s way more natural for me to be selfish than unselfish! Now, there’s hardly anything else I’d rather do than meet with a sponsee. I relish the opportunity to focus on helping someone else rather than think about all of my “problems.” Please.

My sponsor here in Oregon talks a lot about self care. Her sponsor used to ask her, “what have you done for self care today?” Thank goodness for this & the lesson it’s taught me. Many days I ask myself that same question. Sometimes the answer is a gluten free cupcake & sleep. Most days the answer is working out the way I need to work out & eating the foods that will fuel my body. We are all different & what works for me may not work for you.

Food was a place I went to when things got dark. Now food is fuel. Self care is nourishment. If I want to live a healthy life, then healthy food is the answer. I still eat crazy stuff, I just try to focus on what works for my own body for the most part.

Instead of trying to look like someone else, which is sort of crazy since they are them & I am me, I focus on having goals. Who the fork cares how much I weigh? What I do care about is if I can balance in handstand for 10 seconds. If I have to lift weights to get myself there then so be it. If running & weight lifting makes me into a stronger yogi, then I’m all over it. Having goals takes the pressure of what size I am or my measurements. My goals are to be strong in different ways, not to wear a size 2 or get rid of all of my cellulite.

Last year in May I asked a photographer friend to take some pictures of me practicing yoga. It was fun, we went to Portland & she got a lot of good shots. I remember before the shoot, having that anxiety, just like before Pow Wow, like I needed to lose more weight. How were these pictures going to turn out?

They turned out amazing, yes, but some were cringeworthy. I noticed the extra weight, the softness, the wide curves. This is my body, I remember thinking. It’s okay. Last Summer, they opened the pools in our neighborhood & it was the longest stretch I’ve ever had with not really caring about what I looked like half naked. Like, this is just it man. Embrace it. Granted, I wear a conservative “mom suit,” out there for the most part & no one is there some days, but still.

I’m okay with how I look. Maybe because I’m okay with who I am. Are all of the cliches true? They must be.

Fast forward to now, I try to eat protein & veggies for the most part, I intermittent fast, I run 3 times a week, I work out a different body part four days a week, & my class load ranges from 8-10 classes per week. I take 2 or 3 days off. Is it a lot? For me, yes. It’s been a slow process to be this active. My clothes fit better. My injuries feel better. I have a lot of energy. I feel strong which was my goal. Do I still have curves & cellulite? Hell yeah I do, I’m 41 so that probably will not change. Do I still get tired? Yes. Do I eat gluten free chocolate chip cookies? Again, yes.

I’ve taken my time writing this post because I know how much weight talking about diets & exercise carries. It’s an emotionally charged subject & I don’t bring it up lightly.

Wishing all of you out there lots of self love which is more important than the way you look.



Someone may see a glossy picture of me on social media & think that whatever day I had, it was a good one. That I’m doing just fine. I have a solid higher power, a supportive family, my son, a supportive AA family, & duh, yoga. All this stuff is very true (& more) & I’m so grateful for it.

Spend some time with me & pry deeper, you may see more. Sadness, vulnerability, anger. Control. Lack of control. My side of the street. Resentments. Not letting go. Not letting go of the bondage of self. My friend from CA texted me last week:

Congrats on your 8 years smober! 🚭🚭😤 Can you believe we actually sucked on those nasty things? 😝

It struck me that, hell no I can’t believe it! If you still smoke, no judgement, it takes what it takes & I’ve been there, relishing the feeling of sucking that nicotine into my lungs. Some days I miss it still.

What I remember eight years ago, is picking a date to give smoking up, fully not believing that I could. I was 2 years sober when I decided to quit, I was down to a pack a day, when I drank I smoked 2 packs a day. Just dumping poison into my body. Sometimes I think continuous sobriety is just dumping less & less poison into yourself as time goes by, whether it’s physical or emotional.

My quit date came. I remember very clearly driving to work, a time period where I usually sucked down 2 cigarettes. I felt nervous & uneasy. I had my patch on & chewed my nicotine gum. I later learned that I was putting too much nicotine into my system so I dropped the patches & just stuck with the gum for a while.

I was used to taking a smoke break on the hour, cheating the system of the 2 ten minute breaks per 8 hour shift rule. My feet would hop towards the door & I would think, oh yeah I’m not smoking! This tic happened every half hour. What do people do on their breaks if they don’t smoke!?

Being at home was the worst. They say in the rooms, “sit on your hands,” & it was the first time that I actually sat in my hands in my apartment. It was excruciating to not grab my keys, run to my car to drive & buy a pack. It was excruciating not to act on this urge to smoke.

At meetings too. Was it ok to just hang out inside during the 10 minute break…&…talk to people? I don’t know, eat cookies? Uncomfortable as hell, but yes, yes it was. New habits formed & old habits dead. That last sentence sounds great, but it was SO HARD. I won’t ever forget.

These past couple weeks have been difficult. I’m back to sitting on my hands. I pulled out of my garage & knocked my side mirror off. I failed to show up for a friend when they really needed me. I’m not all the way “here.” I’m hurting. I’m slowly coming out of it.

I’m doing the best I can.

It’s okay to be honest about it & it’s okay to feel this way.

A really rad definition of vulnerable I came across according to urban dictionary:


Someone who is completely and rawly open, unguarded with their heart, mind, and soul. Being vulnerable happens when you trust completely. Rather its vulnerability by pain or joy, it’s being exposed with all of the emotions that make it easy for someone (someone you trust) to really do some emotional damage or healing.. Vulnerability is the surrender of all control and personal power in regards to letting someone close enough to destroy you!

Lol, a little dramatic, but you get it. It sums up much of what I feel here & now. I cling to those constants in life, the non material things I’m grateful for in the above first paragraph. I’m learning about myself. I’m being healed. I let go one day & not the next, but I believe my higher power will fill up all my imperfections.

Hoping all of you out there are doing better than me, er, I mean learning valuable life lessons & getting all mature, eh?

Peace, love, & always:



Whew, it’s been a while since I’ve posted. H & I traveled to Florida at the very beginning of March & I feel like right after we got on that plane at PDX I blinked & now it’s past Easter.

My yoga teaching has ramped up, swerved, & morphed into something new. I’ve been subbing a lot. Also, I shared a while back how I had to turn down some new classes, I had to take step back & reevaluate how much yoga I can keep on my plate.

Way back, even before I completed my teacher training, I posted about finding this studio, little did I know at the time that I’d do an apprenticeship there, that the owner & two other teachers there would be instrumental in how I frame my yoga teaching world. They all showed me great patience & compassion.

I auditioned & got hired on as a sub. I found other gigs & always returned to this place to help out when other teachers needed time off. I came to the conclusion that this was my path with this place.

Most recently they hired me to teach a couple classes a week! I’m still not used to it, & I’m tired. I gave notice at a different place to make room for these classes but am working all of them for another week.

So I’ve been tired.

Tired & blessed.

More of a life than I ever had. If I was to die tomorrow, yes there would be things that I wished I would have accomplished, but damn, I know that I would be happy with what has happened so far.

I’m a far cry from that drunk girl crying herself to sleep at night because she was sure no one would ever love her.

She was so wrong. So many people love her.

I love her. Fiercely.

So, even though I’m a little exhausted & also obviously too busy to blog, I’m also very grateful today for all I have.

Most of which is not physical.

Wishing all of you out there a deep sense of gratitude, especially if you feel overwhelmed by all the good just like me.



Most of the time I filter what I say. I pause & think before speaking. Let’s face it, there’s a level of annoyance with an over sharer in meetings or a teacher in a yoga class. Not to say that we shouldn’t overshare, save your ass not your face, & let it out if needs be, for sure. But I do hold back, I share in a general way, or I teach in the best way I feel like my students can learn. They came for a class not to listen to my silliness (although the silly comes out every now & again). Isn’t that a new level maturity or what being somewhat of an adult is?

All that to say, it’s such a relief when you’re able let stuff out, to be uncensored, to spend time with those friends, you know those friends, the friends you can really be yourself with. There’s no editing. Cursing is ok. You can say whatever comes to mind & yes you might get teased for it, but that’s okay too. It’s part of the goodness of the relationships. You never feel judged.

Inside joke.

All pictures taken by my two friends, most of them by: Marci Tasche.

A couple of my Long Beach friends came up to Oregon to visit me last weekend. I burst into tears when they arrived & we were having deep conversations just minutes after being together. I had mentioned to them many times last year how much I missed them. I know they came here for me & to be supportive.

The inside jokes. Laughing until you cry & almost pee. I’ve known one of them a bit longer & they’ve had years of time hanging out without me so we sometimes had to fill in the blanks. A lot of history. Also, a lot of catching me up on what’s going on back in Long Beach.

Long Beach. I know I’ve written a lot about being homesick which is such a conundrum, Oregon is my home, I love it here. But I miss my friends. I want to rush the grieving process, the fact that I can’t go meet them at a meeting, that I can’t go to meetings there & know almost everyone in the rooms. I want to be okay with it. I didn’t know it would be this hard.

Maybe I’ll always be some shade of sad about it. Maybe there will always be some gap, some place in my soul that Oregon can’t quite fill.

The thing is that a miracle occurred in California, I wanted to die one day, I went to a AA meeting, & then I had hope. Everything was new, sure I had ups & downs, but everything was different. My friends were different too. I once had friends that abandoned me in bars, not caring how I got home. In AA I met friends that were genuine & reliable. Friends that were sharply witty & fun without the use of alcohol.

They came bouldering with me.  We stayed home one day, my friend cooked soup, we made a fire, we watched standup.  We did a Portland day the last day they were here.  It was super sunny!  I kept raving about it & they of course looked at me like I was crazy.  We drank fine coffee, they petted a million dogs, we ate at a trendy Portland spot, we perused the cool shops, & then we ended up at a bar where my two friends did some standup at an open mic.

There’s a term in standup called, “call back.”  When you tie in an earlier joke later on in your bit, that’s a call back.  We kept yelling that at each other all weekend when we would reference an earlier idea or joke.

And maybe that’s what those strong long distance relationships are like, you’re away from each other, there are moments you miss with each other, there is grief for what’s lost, but the miracle is that you can see them again and when you get back together again it’s a big, giant call back, filled with magical timing.

I have a new perspective on it all.  I’ll be saving some extra pennies for a Summer flight.  Wishing you all the best kind of call backs with your strong & real relationships out there.



H & I had a really good set of holidays this past (past already, gasp) year.  Usually I want to go on big adventures to other states to see my family, which is always amazing too, but this time I really didn’t want to go anywhere.  I wanted to stay home.  My aunt and uncle live close in a nearby town and we had Thanksgiving at their house.  My maternal grandma lives close to us now, so it’s nice to have her in on all of the family get togethers.

My parents were traveling to VA Christmas Eve to NYE so I knew H & I would be on our own.  I asked my same aunt if we could spend the night at her house since my second cousin, aged 7 would be there too.  They could wake up and open presents together.  Everything was great, I even managed to cart my son and my grandma the 45 minutes to their house.  We had a good Christmas Eve meal.  Then H threw up all over, but he managed to sleep through the night.  We opened presents and had a really good time the next morning.  My aunt cooked breakfast, I felt really spoiled.

H threw up again & then I noticed my stomach started feeling a little funny.  It turned out that we had a bad stomach flu (later my grandma, uncle, and cousin got it too, sorry!) and I couldn’t get home fast enough.  I rarely throw up & it really brings back those old drinking days when too much booze would make me vomit.

Luckily I got all of my classes except one covered so H & I actually had a good time (despite the sickness) lounging around, making fires in the fireplace, sitting by the Christmas tree, & putting legos together.  There wasn’t much eating involved excepting saltine crackers.  Those little suckers really do the trick but I never eat them normally!

I felt a little isolated.  I had vowed before that I had to drag he & I to meetings when my parents left in the past, which I did do last Summer, but damn, by 6pm at night my brain & body were toasted.  I was sick & tired, literally & I just couldn’t do it.  It felt really good to get back to the womens meeting last Monday & I’m going to another tonight.  I did manage to muscle ourselves to a Blazers game last Thursday.  H had started (& then retreated from, lol) basketball at the YMCA I work at & they had an amazing deal on Blazers tickets.  I forced it & boy was I glad I did.  So much of it was worth it even though we were both so tired.  I always enjoy watching his reaction once we hit Portland, he loves looking at all of the big buildings, bridges, tall cranes, & other urban cityscape.  We didn’t stay through the game or even the first quarter (!) but we got early entry to watch the players warm up almost court side & then H got to go on the court during the national anthem!  He stood right in front of the players who totally made him look like the tiniest toddler in the whole world.  They were actually really nice to him, a couple of them knelt down & talked to him a little bit!  I’m sure this pleased me way more than anything he got out of it but hopefully he’ll enjoy the story and physical documentation of it someday.




H got his own little tree this year, spoiled.


At my aunts, he got to sleep on the trundle.



At the Blazers & trying not to think about how dirty that carpet is.

I decided to teach an intentions based class on the 1st of the new year.  It was restorative, a really nice and mellow class to come to & especially if you BELIEVE.

Because it’s hard to believe in your dreams sometimes.  It’s easy to listen to the negative voices in your head.  I wrote some major intentions out.  I’m having a really hard time with just one of them, but am really asking my Higher Power to give me a breakthrough on it.

I decided also to go off of Netflix, social media, & candy for three days (today is day 3) so I could spend some extra time in meditation & also some extra time just listening to myself.  It has been a gratifying but rough experience.  I use food, sugar, social media, & t.v. to quiet the inner voice I have & it’s been startling to face that fear.

It takes a lot of guts to sit in discomfort.  There never seems to be a perfect time for it. It takes guts to dream, set intentions, & then take action towards them.  It was 3 years ago that I made a decision that drastically changed my life, 3 years ago I started this blog with this post where I was debating upon that decision.

So they are out there in the universe & I am here, trusting & relying on my Higher Power as much as I possibly can.  One statement that resonates, there’s always a reason for what I’ve gone through good & bad.

Wishing you the most auspicious of new year’s.



This time two years ago I was showing up several times a week to a storefront out in Milwaukie (Oregon) filled with impressive looking Pilates equipment just hoping that someone would show up for yoga.  It was my first official gig as a yoga instructor, besides this I had offered some free outdoor yoga and was putting in apprenticeship hours at a local studio.

Some days one person would show, usually none, and I think one day I was lucky enough to get two actually breathing humans in the same class.

That gig ended and I got a job at a aquatic center.  Mine were brand new classes and no one showed up to these either.  My low came one night when the manager suggested that I walk around the pool telling people about my classes if no one showed.  Luckily that night a person came so I didn’t have to stoop over wet swimmers and try to explain to them how cool yoga was (although I probably would have done it!).  I still have that gig and now it’s my favorite one.  Two years later I have a steady stream of regulars, most of which I consider my friends.

I got more yoga gigs, I started teaching gentle/restorative yoga, and spent A LOT of time LEARNING how to teach soft instead of intense. I subbed for Hatha and learned how to teach without a bunch of flow.

I also learned to not care so much what other people think, but to follow my own intuition.  I learned that you can’t please everyone and that’s okay.  I learned that yoga is yoga, which sounds overly simple, but if I can manage to remember that while I teach, I’ll be okay.  Yoga is yoga is yoga.  Just teach yoga.

I scrambled to get jobs two years ago, now I have to turn some down. I have some corporate gigs where I go teach working professionals at their places of work after their shifts.  I teach a class at a bouldering gym.  I don’t have one actual ‘yoga studio’ job, but for me that feels like normal.

If I could say something to myself two years ago I would tell me not to give up.  That’s definitely a message I’d love to pass on to any new yoga teachers out there who are just starting out.  Yes, there will be criticism and countless jobs given to other more experienced teachers instead of you.  That’s okay, just keep going.  My experience hustling for yoga jobs has taught me the valuable lesson of working hard for something even though I though it was pointless at the time.  I remember telling my friend at the time I just wanted so badly to tell these people I was auditioning for, “I can do it.  Please let me just fly.”

I’m flying now in this whole yoga deal.  It won’t last forever, I long to get a ‘normal’ 9 to 5 again, but I’m enjoying it for right now.  I’m able to be with my son instead of sending him to day care and that means so much to me.

Wishing all of you out there to find wings and the space to try them out in.

~Peace & Namaste.

Picture from that first gig ❤️


Whew, boy I managed to go a whole month without blogging!  That’s a first for me in 2 years & I’m trying not to feel too bad about it.  I have another writing project in the works and it’s been hard to switch gears when I have some dedicated time to write.

But I’m here now.

Life has been a little crazy lately…I feel like it’s always a little crazy.  I mean c’mon I have a toddler, it’s not going to be well manicured.  It’s gonna get messy.  Messy like last week when I got a call from my mom after an AA meeting, “Holden’s okay but…”  I couldn’t let her finish, all of the blood seemed to rush out of my body.  “What happened?!” I asked.  “He fell and bit through his tongue.”

I rushed home and we all went to the ER, first trip for this mama.  He was in pain but the bleeding had slowed to a trickle.  He had a pretty big open gash on the tip of his tongue.  It was late, he kept falling asleep & then waking back up to the pain.  We were seen pretty fast & the doctor said it could really go either way, if he was unable to get stitches he would probably be fine but he was going to stitch his tongue up anyways.  They administered some drugs up his nose and swaddled him in some white blankets like a little toddler burrito.  My son became like a happy drunk, watching Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles and laughing at anything that was even reasonably funny.  The doctor managed to get a couple of stitches in before H became wise to what was happening.  He started jerking around, so the doctor gave up on that last perfect stitch.

As we drove home my son begged to go back to the hospital.  The drugs were still working through his system, he now vacillated between happy and mean drunk.  “I want to go back!” he shouted.  He kept crying & wailing.  It was around two in the morning now & us three adults were really only thinking about our beds & some sanity.  He refused to get out of his car seat.  He kept hitting me.  I had to carry him out of the car and into the house against his will.  He wasn’t supposed to walk on his own, because of the drugs he could fall.  I finally got him to bed with my mom’s help.  Nope, it wasn’t fun.

This is a somewhat extreme example of how hard being a parent can be (it could have been worse, yes I’ve heard the stories!), it’s not just roses and sunbeams all of the time.  You will be inconvenienced.  You will be karate chopped on the bridge of your nose by a very small (but strong) toddler.

You will be questioned incessantly.  You will be stressed.  You will be tired.  You will want to give up.

Lately I’ve had to seek a shift.  Morning hits me like a freight truck.  “Get up Mommy!”  I’ve had to switch my ways of thinking about him & how I react.  Because it’s easy to react wrong & it’s harder to react right.

I don’t react right all of the time & no, none of us is perfect.  But, I am my son’s only parent.  He has his grandparents too (Thank you Jesus) but I’m going to be with him for most of his early life.  This is a weighty thing to think about.  I’m it for him.  What I do will shape his mindset & beliefs.  It’s scary to think of myself like that.  It’s scary when my rational brain shuts off & I just feel annoyance or anger.

Because damn, three-almost-four-year-olds are quick.  While I was typing an email on my phone earlier, he dumped out two card decks, mixed them together, and poured all his toys over them.  Why?  So he could jump up and down on this flotsam, of course!  Pretty fun to clean up & yes he has to help too because that’s the lesson I want to teach him.

So I’ve begun to have to change my ideas about what he or I should be.  I’ve had to take breaks.  I’ve had to take more time to explain things to him.  I’ve had to discipline which is not natural for me to do.  I’ve had to nourish his spirit because I don’t want to crush it.  I’ve had to answer non explainable questions.  I’ve had to reach a little bit deeper.

I’m not feeling like I’m perfect at it, but I am feeling like I’m trying & doing my best.  I’m asking my HP for help always.  I know as other parents read this they will chuckle, their heads naturally nodding in agreement, remembering their own experiences & struggles.

Wishing all parents & kids out there a break.  A deeper understanding & love for one another.  This is what it’s all about.




I appreciated how, on our last weekend of teacher training, our master teacher asked us what relationship with money was like.  I specifically liked how she worded it:

“Is your relationship with money adversarial?  Or is it a tool?”

This post isn’t about money, but about social media as it’s been useful for me to view it within the same framework.  Is it adversarial?  Or is it a tool?

Sometimes for me it’s one or the other or even both.  A couple years after getting sober in 2008 I ran with a crowd that rejected Facebook.  Everyone was deleting their accounts, they didn’t like how vapid it could get, they didn’t want to waste their time with it.  They wanted to focus more of their energy on being spiritual and living in the present.

I did it too.  I went ‘off’ Facebook for years. People would comment to me about it and I would tell them that I didn’t have one.  I would get weird looks.  Lots of people consider having a Facebook (& other social media accounts) as being normal although there are many people out there who don’t engage.

I later found Instagram & took to its simplicity.  Fast forward to the present:  I am a Facebooker again & I have both types of accounts, continuously posting & streaming pictures about yoga, my son, & my life.  Facebook became a sort of ‘necessity’ for all of my yoga stuff.

But sometimes it’s too much.  I waste too much time scrolling though useless stuff.  It makes me feel like a zombie.  And I do best when I’m not following an outline, I recently tried out my first yoga challenge on Instagram (post every day about yoga for a month) & it made me feel trapped.  Creativity & freedom always works best for me.  It’s not fun if it feels forced.

I always have to remember that no one places me in a box, except for myself!  And I have the power to step back or remove myself from it.  

So I’ve taken breaks from it.  My head got quiet.  I want a quiet head so I think it will be something that I will do more often.  Going back to that idea that group of AA’s in early sobriety taught me.  Not deleting, just abstaining for periods of time.

Balance.  It’s hard to find.

Wishing all you out there balance in what you need.

Peace, love, & namaste~