My life is so full with work, parenting, house-keeping and garden …it’s bursting at the seams. Hard to believe that once, long ago, I was confused and lost at where to go and what to do.

Each photo today shows a little snapshot of my current life.

Photo 1. Here I am balancing on a ball in a side plank. If you’ve ever checked out my Instagram, you know that I’m a sucker for arm balance. I often wonder how much longer I’ll be able to do these balancing antics. And then I remember, why not into my 90’s? Reminds me of a story my daughter told me yesterday about a woman who recently won an ultra marathon. Like 300 miles or something like that. As she was running she kept thinking to herself: Why not me?

Photo 2. And moving on to my backyard. Spring feels weird. Like everything came out too fast. This huge tree that shades our yard from across the fence never seemed to get “spring green” leaves-and already they seem to be turning a fall like color. I try not to think about it too much.

Photo 3. A bluejay and her mate always come to my studio door looking for peanut handouts. Sometimes they stand at the door like they are clients waiting to come in and workout. All my clients know the jay couple and that I’ll pause a session to throw a peanut. So what happened was, the couple had kids. Three of them in fact, in a brilliantly constructed nest in our lemon tree. I was instantly concerned about the baby Jays and kept our bedroom door open at night so we could hear any predators in the tree. I really worried about this and that - such as: was the mom feeding the babies enough and was there enough room in the nest for all three babies as they grew. Then the other day when I was in the garden, the mom came along and was kind of hopping around here and snapping up bugs and things. Soon enough, she jumped up on a chair nearby and I had this odd feeling that she was communicating with me - mind to mind. What she said to me was this: “Hey weirdo: stop worrying about the babies. Birds are descendants from dinosaurs - there’s good reason we’ve survived for 150 million years. I would say I kind of know what I’m doing, okay? I appreciate the peanuts and the assistance on the lookout for predators, but don’t worry so much.
Message received.

Photo 4. I love my garden and because I don’t have a drip system, it keeps me out there watering and checking in nearly every day. I am looking forward to (hopefully) seeing results in cucumbers, tomatoes, and maybe even melons. Lots of other stuff growing too- too much to list. The trick is, to keep critters from taking free handouts!.

Photo 5. Lastly… here’s something cool- after several long years away from my beautiful guitar and wondering if I would ever write again, I got on an unexpected writing spree about a month ago, several songs poured out and I started up the studio again last week. I always think I’ll never write again, and then I always do. I’m really excited about these songs because they came like a tidal wave- absorbing a lot of my experience of the last two years which have been, quite frankly, a little challenging.

With the birth of these new songs I could feel difficulty blooming into something useful. I was reminded of the power of art and its role as transmuter. These songs are already shifting energy in my life. I am very thankful and excited to, when the time comes, share these songs with you. If you happened to ask me what’s been up in my life the last years- I likely won’t share - as I’ve mentioned here several times, it’s not all my story to tell. However the songs will do a good job of sharing more. You’ll have to stay tuned.

In closing, I think about again how this Substack space - which was supposed to once be more instructional has instead become a place of refuge for me where I can share aspects of my journey. Thanks for being here. We’ll see what comes around the bend.

XO

Consider this for a moment:
you don’t know better.

I’m speaking to myself of course
with my hands in the garden
surrounded by the buzzing & whirring

It’s a delicate walk to find what’s right
it’s hard at first
because you have to remove the benchmarks
+ every form of measure
by which you could
file something neatly away in a box
by which you could
achieve that temporary sense of peace.

I’m looking for lasting peace.

Life will let you know
but it’s a very quiet murmur
If you want to hear it
I think you must be willing
first
to set your ideas
out to sea.

See what happens
when it’s not all tied up with a bow
when the waves can be waves
and you are no longer captain.

I wanted to homestead. I wanted a farm - a goat farm maybe. Or a cow or two. It came about suddenly - as soon as I had babies. We moved to a kind of countryish town and I got chickens and ducks. I started sewing. I started shopping secondhand. The funny thing about this shift I went through- it wasn’t a phase. It wasn’t a thing just because the kids were little. It fit along with the aspect of me that always had a garden. The same part of me that didn’t fit in a world full of gel nails and blowdried hair found a home in the straw and the dirt.

Occasionally I find myself wishing I was a gel nail kind of girl. I’d love to be tidy and put together. But I’ve never been that person. My hands are busy in the weeds (and more occasionally, the fretboard of a guitar.) I’m the kind of girl that stands on her hands. These hands are never bored.

Anyway- we had chickens for about 13 years, then we didn’t have chickens anymore. I swore I’d never get them again. Reason was, when we moved back to town, we didn’t have a good chicken coop. No one wants to be out in the coop at 2 a.m. screaming at raccoons to get off the birds. They bit my ducks in the neck. No idea why. I was able to nurse the ducks back to health- but boy, I was tried of chickens and ducks. Tired of fixing the coop, and farm mess. I was tired but Brad was emphatic, line drawn: never another f-ing chicken.

That’s why when I put in my new garden, I told Brad I needed a coop that was critter-proof. Seriously Fort Knox. He wasn’t happy about it- who would be? I tried to build it myself knowing I would fail and he would feel pressed to step in. It’s the age old story of the wife who wants and the husband that provides in order to shut her up.

The last few weekends, I’ve been in the garden all day. Determined to start most things from seed, I’ve been happy to outwit the sparrows when it came to my lettuce seeds. I’ve also been irritated the onions and carrot seeds are taking so long. I’ve lifted so many huge bags of soil that at the end of one afternoon I was practically crying - my arms had literally given up. Let’s goooo arms! I yelled. Arms were not having it. I went inside and scared myself in the mirror - twigs in my hair and sweaty dirt streaks down my face. I know that look, I thought. That’s my farm girl look. It’s not pretty like the movies make it out to be.

So that’s where I’ve been. Hellbent on the garden. A tiny farm. Seeds and water. Dirt and compost. Sun. Just me, the dogs and my three teenage chickens (just what I need, more teens.)

I don’t like instructions. I want to do it myself. I’ll do it alone and I certainly won’t mind (after all, I’m an only child.) Except for Brad. It’s never done without you. Thank you sweetie for the coop. XO

When I first started writing this Substack, I had a purpose for it. I had a plan. I had big plans even, in my head. In my head where all thoughts reside and are sometimes proved wrong. I thought this blog-ish thing would be more… educational. Part of my business, in a way. I was going to have a Podcast, a weekly online yoga class, strength training tutorials, health eating inspiration. And I (kind of) did all that- at the beginning.

But, something happened along the way. This writing place ended up being much more personal. I needed to have a place where I didn’t have to be someone who had something to offer. I could just freely come from the place in me that wrote songs.

So, pretty quickly, I realized this blog was not a place for me to seek followers, even though that seems the purpose of a Substack, in great part. The act of seeking followers, attention, business….well, it didn’t align with me. It kind of wasn’t even up to me. The energy was simply not there. Now, you can force energy- can you not? Sure. People do all the time.

I didn’t want to. Maybe because I have plenty of other stuff on my plate. I didn’t want to fight with myself on what this blog could or should be.
I didn’t want to waste time discussing.

Let go or be dragged (by your thoughts.)
I let go.

Because:
You have to learn when to let go, and when to hold on.
That’s the work of life.
I keep thinking about that Kenny Rogers song
You got to know when to hold ‘em
know when to fold ‘em.

You know, I planted a big garden in the midst of a crazy life. I wasn’t going to say no to that because I couldn’t. The energy picked me up and took me.
I had some people unfollow me when they saw what this writing space had turned into. They didn’t get what they signed up for. Absolutely. Totally fair.

It is what it is. It’s a balance.
It’s worth thinking about.
Why are you doing what you’re doing?
What’s your purpose?
Are you going with the flow?
Going with the flow doesn’t mean it’s super easy.
(At least not to me.)
Rather, going with the flow
is nonjudgmentally (let’s say it’s a word)
following your heart of hearts.
It’s very different than giving up.
It’s not even in the same family as giving up.
That’s what I came to.

Valentine’s Day

A few days after I realized
I had been giving my love
to people who abused me
I went to a Tom Petty concert with a friend

The friend left mid-concert
(boy problems)
I was all alone
Petty was singing “Top of the World.”

We had seats in the nosebleeds
I wanted to go closer to the stage
The friend did not.
(But she was gone.)

It was a beautiful warm summer night at The Bowl
& for once in my life
I walked up
from the back.

I couldn’t help but notice
no one was hurting me
I was safe
with myself
no longer someone’s doormat
in exchange
for a warped illusion of love
the kind I tried so hard
to shove into a box
make it fit
it always popped back out
I shoved it again
it smacked me down.

You’re so interested in my past
let me tell you something about me:
When I was looking for love
because I needed it to feel whole
because I needed it to feel worthy
I never chose wisely.

I’m not sure
If you’re ready to hear this:
Love bubbles up from within you
it’s protective of you first.
Before it paves the way for anything else
it seeps into you
scrubs the walls & floors
of thirst and defeat

Let it.
As you walk yourself up from the back
to where you can hear the music
and sing
from the bottom of your heart
to the top of your lungs

You’ll never get away from this thing about life:
You absolutely must
Love yourself first.

My mom has always had a garden and I don’t think I’ve ever thanked her for that. Because of her, and my memories of her hands in the dirt planting tomatoes, I’ve always had a garden, myself. At around 21 years old I had my first very own veggie garden in a little run down rental. It was literally just a postage stamp of dirt but I grew a lot, including some delicious green beans. Then- when I lived up on the mountain a few years later (which I spoke about last post) I had a huge veggie garden. Different gardens followed throughout the different houses I lived in. But always, always- a garden.

The growing space I’ve had for the last nearly 15 years has been awesome, we are lucky to have a spacious backyard. Only thing is, every few years, we have rats come visit and eat my tomatoes. Recently, I was able to update my garden area with three new box additions and pea gravel. This may not seem like a big deal to most people, but to me it’s life-changing. My updated garden space has enabled me to set up for success and (hopefully) grow a lot more food than I was able to before. I have plans, should rats dare to step foot near my garden this year and I’ve already done a great job keeping the birds away from my lettuce seeds. I decided to mostly grow from seed- since it’s early in the year and there’s plenty of time. I plan to grow the biggest garden I can, with lots of food and herbs. I’ll keep you posted.

I’ve also gotten into baking bread, which I have always done from time to time. This time however, I made my own sourdough starter. Did you know making your own starter takes 5 days? It’s like taking care of a kid. I guess that’s what gardening is like, too - raising babies. Creating sourdough starter is kind of like taking care of a kid, but actually not really, because kids - for reasons beyond our comprehension- put folded clean clothes in the dirty hamper. They also rarely clean up the bathroom. My sourdough starter would never do such things.

That’s why I like to bake and garden. You get to create, in the quiet. I’ve always liked the quiet aspect of gardening. But at this time of my life, it’s more than appreciated, it’s needed.

(The recipes I’m using for baking currently are gluten-free and from this book. It’s a beautiful book. This lady’s kind of a genius baker. I recommend it.)

Then there’s Marv. Marv and Amma both like to garden with me. Marv likes to eat dirt clods and wood chips while Amma just kind of stands around and looks at me as if she’s asking- should he be doing that? Then they both go in and nap, as you can see.

Sometimes I think that as long as I have a few dogs and a place to garden, I’ll really always be content.

There was a time when I wanted to be famous.
Then. I had a hit single in Japan
went there to tour
and walking down some street in Tokyo
I was recognized
(he asked for my autograph.)
I was famous for a minute. I knew a few famous people for a minute.
It was cool. But.
Something felt weird.
I didn’t know how to be myself.
I tried. And…
I just didn’t know how to dress the part or talk to executives.
I wanted to be famous!
but
I ached
to get home
to the mountain I was living on
where I grew a big garden.

On the mountain
we weren’t on city water lines
we had no trash service
we had mountain lion tracks in our dirt driveway.
I liked all that.
I was always more that.

I understood:
hawks, road runners, trees.
sky, sage, rock.
dirty jeans.
no shoes.
I saw the curve of the earth from way up there.
(no words can describe.)

Anyway. Fast forward to now.
30 years gone by.
Using my hands to
get the garden growing
watching
those tiny birds
in the lemon tree.

I’m so relieved 2025 is in the rearview. Though I will say, the very end of it almost made it all the year’s difficulty worth it. We had a great holiday break as a family — I’ve shared some photos here. Everyone was happy and nearly every day was full of life and creativity.

My older daughter asked me what my word was for 2026. I didn’t need to think about it for more than a second: Create.

Last year was about the furthest I’ve ever gotten from my creative self. And that really weighed on the difficulty of the year. Sometimes life has other plans and we get dragged along into murky messes - that’s what 2025 felt like to me. But things began to turn around as the year came to a close and by the time my daughter asked me what my word for 2026 was… I already knew that a new space was opening for me.

In the past- I tried to make my creativity support me financially. I can tell you with sincere expertise that it’s an incredibly exhausting and stressful way to live. That said, I forced it for many, many years. For so long, in fact, that it eventually caused a separation between me and my creativeness. What I know now is that creativity should have no pressure put upon it. I think the definition of the “crazy artist” is simply an artist who has to sell their work. It’s the having to sell that makes the crazy- not the art.

I sold my songs for years- most people know that. But I also went though a time when I sold things I made with material. Lap quilts and sewn artwork. What I made actually sold quite well- and that was the problem. I couldn’t make enough fast enough. It drove me crazy. It took the inspiration and fun out of it. One day when my girls were little, Brad came home and I was flat out on the floor, face down, crying in a mess of material. I couldn’t sew another stitch.

It wasn’t too long after that I started teaching yoga full time instead of part time, then I got certified as a plant-based health coach, then as a personal trainer, and then I got my certification in Corrective Exercise - that last piece really defined my work and I opened up my business as a health coach.

I put my artist self in the corner. My guitar case got dusty and I sold my sewing machine. The years went by and as long as I didn’t think about the loss of my creative self too much, I found I actually enjoyed feeling like a “normal person.” For the first time in my life I was working a normal(ish) job, 5 days a week just like the next guy.

Now and then my daughters would play my music. They would play it for me, or tell me how much they loved this song or that song. I was so thankful then I had spent those cataclysmic (and, only in retrospect, strangely beautiful) years toiling out my songs. I was thankful my music was out in the world.

Then- at the end of 2025 I pulled out a quilt I had never finished. I had been eyeing it for a while but had not brought myself to do much with it. It was huge, actually- much bigger than a lap size. I decided one day to finish it on an old sewing machine we still had hanging around. Brad was always complaining of not having a snuggly blanket on the couch for late night TV watching so this would be a perfect Christmas gift. I listened to music and sewed away during Christmas break. Often with my kids around me doing their creative endeavors.

Another time over the break my older daughter and I sat around with a guitar and sang my songs. My younger daughter came in and asked if I could play Orion- and she sang the whole thing, word for word.

We also baked, and my younger daughter made fancy cappuccinos with our new espresso machine. We ate lots of stuff I usually don’t. Freshly baked cinnamon rolls and other brilliant things you can make with dough. The art of baking is as inspired as growing veggies in the garden, I thought - as I cleaned out the last cucumbers and lettuce from the garden boxes.

We took long walks on the beach and at the bluffs with Marv. (When I carried him because he seemed tired Brad asked me how I expected Marv to become a man if he couldn’t experience persevering through some fatigue.)

Anyway- look. What I realized these last weeks is this: art and creativity, away from the struggle …it was still there waiting for me. Just waiting patiently for me to figure it out. To seal in this realization, I bought myself a new sewing machine and started sewing a new quilt. As I did I thought about my garden and plans to grow more food. I pulled out my favorite recipe books and mulled over all the things I wanted to make. I spent time with other inspiring books that I’d set aside for far too long. I knitted for a while and sewed some more and picked up my guitar again for a few minutes. These actions fulfill me and yet I had abandoned them. It happens.

My creative spirit has been in Winter for many years. But seasons turn. And my Winter, I believe, is coming to an end. I can feel the interconnectedness with my family- my parents, husband and children who identify my creative self as simply their daughter, wife and mother. In other words, to them, it’s just who I am. They have cherished and held that part of me always in their hearts and somehow kept it alive for me when I, myself, could not. Thank you family. I love you so much.

I guess another word I could use for 2026 is Balance. (That’s my older daughter’s word.) Finding the balance between work and art and also the places they intersect….
…it should prove to be an interesting year.

And so…with that. I can now ask you…what’s YOUR word for 2026?

xoxo

I’ve tried three times to write this post, and I’ve failed every time. I think I’m trying to bring too much together in a small space.

In a nutshell, I’ve seen some of the worst aspects of our modern society in the past weeks, and- I’ve also seen absolutely amazing things. One of the worst aspects was (and still is) dealing with an issue with my phone that the phone company can’t seem to fix. Suddenly, I can’t receive calls. And no one can tell me why. And no one can fix it. I’ve dealt with zombies in a fluorescent big box store for so many hours these past days…. it almost made me go crazy. After this week, I really understand why someone would want to live off the grid.

But then. I was back in my own home- with my two daughters, making food and tea, laughing and sewing and knitting and drawing…

I always seem to come back to simple things. Ancient arts. A salad with lettuce from the garden. Listening to good music in which there is stunning poetry and melody (hard to find, but once in a while, it is out there.) I’m hard to please and easy to please.

Quite frankly, I’m not sure what to do with this world. But I know that I will continue on with this great quote from the movie Nyad: “Where’s the excellence?” It’s my mantra for 2026! Where’s the excellence? ( I can tell you for sure it’s not in the channels of my phone company.)

Can we find excellence in ourselves in the face of crappy things? Can we seek excellence in the small and big things we do? I watch my youngest daughter make a beautiful salad because life is beautiful. Life is beautiful and in response we should strive for excellence in everything we do.

Anyway. Look! We adopted a young man that we named Marvin. He is excellent. Someone dropped him in a dirt yard and left him scared. He was skinny and turned into a pancake when you approached him- all legs out and chin to the ground. He is the sweetest guy we’ve ever met and we love him to pieces! I don’t think he’d ever seen grass before. He thinks grass is the most amazing thing in the world!! He loves our senior Lab and snuggling is his favorite pastime. He doesn’t let his hurtful past drag him down. Marvin manifested us and the universe gave us Marvin. Poof!

There is good and richness and beauty around us. I hope you can feel and see all the magic in yourself and in the world this holiday.

XO

C.

A sort of part two from last week.

Generally, people forget that they are living in a body that strives to be healthy. A body that is incredible, and in many ways not understood by science. There are mysteries of the human body that even doctors can’t rightly understand. Luckily- and perhaps purposefully - those mysteries don’t all need to be understood by us. Neil deGrasse Tyson said “The universe is under no obligation to make sense to you.” We could say the same thing about the body.

That said, we do get clear messages from our bodies when we need to change behavior or attend to something of importance: fatigue, thirst, hunger, fullness, discomfort and pain are important communications - not unlike an engine light going on in a car.

Part of the problem with culture today is it strives to teach us that it knows better than we do about our own selves and instincts. TikTok and other forms of social media seek to exploit self-doubt and disconnect. The weight-loss industry, for example —according to Chat GPT, is valued at approximately $142.58 billion in 2022 and is projected to reach $298.66 billion by 2030.

Staying with the concept of weight loss for a moment…check it out: a calorie is simply a measure of energy. Our bodies need energy in order to do anything and everything. All living actions, even breathing, burns calories. The amount of calories we need to ingest from food is dependent on how many calories we burn through activity. That’s why active people need more calories than sedentary people.

Excluding those with more uncommon medical conditions - for most people, if you are trying to lose weight, the goal is to ultimately burn more calories than you take in. That’s how you burn fat (fat = “extra” calories stored in your body.)

Using a pill to take off weight may work in the same way that using make-up might cover up dark circles under the eyes. In such instances, we miss the journey of self-connection: the process by which we listen and respond naturally to ourselves and our body’s communications. We miss out on understanding why we are overweight, or constantly fatigued, or whatever the symptom may be. Our culture supports this trading of curiosity and personal journey for a quick fix.

We want results without the work. We want an athletic body without having to train like an athlete. We want to control our eating without seeking the understanding of why we eat too much (or too little.) We are awesome at coming up with excuses for why we are not feeling our best. For instance, I can’t tell you how many times people comment to me that they are “too tight to do yoga.” Ummm….that’s like saying you’re too thirsty to drink water.

A new client asked me asked me the other day how many times much she should exercise per week. Tell me your goals, I asked her. (I would never answer for a client “how much” without understanding what exactly it is they want to achieve.) After a client tells me their goals, I can tell them with assuredness how often they need to workout in order to achieve that goal. Often though, it turns out for the client that there’s a time factor issue and then the excuses come rolling in…the kids, work schedule, etc. Can you get up an hour earlier a few times a week? I’ll ask. Simple. (Not easy.)

This morning I’m going for a swim because I want to be a better swimmer. The more I allow the unease, the more I face the challenge, the more I learn about myself. Each run, each swim, the closer I get to myself. The closer I get to myself, the healthier I become. The healthier I become, the more I can tolerate my own difficulties as well as have more bandwidth to understand others who may be struggling in their lives. These are the benefits to following through with long-term goals or commitments even when it’s hard.

Are you tight? Does it bother you? Then stretch! The answer is not complicated. The actually doing it, the setting aside the time, the willingness to be the tightest person in the yoga class, the getting up an hour earlier to go to the gym, the planning of healthy meals, that’s where the work comes in, the journey starts, and life gets a lot more interesting.

One day, many sessions in, a tight client says to me: Hey, look! I can touch my fingers to my toes! I’ve never been able to do that! He says it with disbelief, shock and awe, as if there is sort of some magic involved. No magic. You just showed up and did the work. I have never seen someone more proud than a tight dude the day he touches his toes.

So.
What are YOUR goals? (They could be anything.)
What happens when you try and take the easy way out?
What happens when you don’t?

I find it interesting that as humans, we are really are quite confused on how best to take care of ourselves. In order to understand how true that is, just look outside the window. Is that bird on the branch googling what workout is best for removing menopausal belly fat? Is a an ant hemming and hawing between Paleo, Vegan and Keto diets?

Part of the problem, some say, is that as a species, at one point, our brains developed too quickly for our own good. We came to dominate the earth without rightly or innately understanding ourselves. And that makes for a confused leader. A lioness is stoic in her power because she developed herself over the timespan of approximately 2 million years. She’s chill with who she is. Modern humans developed in just 300,000 years. We are not chill. We are freaked out.

Just take the world of weight-loss. How many different ways can you think of to lose weight. Here’s just a few: weight loss drugs, weight loss surgery, Weight Watchers or the gym. Which would you choose? Other species have exercise wired. They do what’s sensible, minus the guesswork and drama. A lion never has to decide what weight loss plan to do because a lion lives in a natural eco-friendly balance that was learned over millennia. We as a species are far too under-developed to do that. Good news is: we don’t have to be. (Not totally anyway.)

As far as health goes, the world makes it FAR too complex. Instead, make it simple. Eat nutritious and clean. Get adequate sleep, water and exercise. Done.

If there are mental/emotional blocks in the way, get a therapist. If you don’t know how to exercise correctly, get a Personal Trainer. If you don’t know how to eat healthily, get a nutritionist. Done. If you can’t afford those things, get yo’ ass to the local library and start some dedicated research.

Sleep is non negotiable and so is hydration and a healthy diet. But exercise, to me, is empowering! Not only does exercise burn calories, it streamlines the body and wakes it up- by moving our blood and speeding up the detoxing of “trash” in our tissues. Exercise increases “happy” chemicals in the brain, helps us flush out emotional stagnancy and builds muscle and bone density. All of these things contribute to organ health. That’s why people who exercise regularly look healthy - they are healthy!

How about this: when at a loss for how to care for yourself, go for a brisk walk or run. Plant some food in your garden, tend to it, watch it grow. Drink some water. Eat a salad with some protein mixed in. Join the local gym. Get your heart rate up enough to break a sweat. Go to bed early.

The rest of nature keeps things pretty simple. Learn from a flower. Learn from a bird. Learn from your dog. Learn from lettuce seeds. Dive in and learn from yourself. One of my favorite phrases is: the truth is out there. It’s out there (and in there.)

You have to choose to evolve.

When working on your own health, here’s something: get interested in the difference between simple and easy. (Hint, preparing a nutritious meal is simple- that doesn’t mean it’s always easy.)

To me, evolving is like going backwards. Back to our roots. Nature, air, food, water, walk, rest. Is it easy? It’s an interesting question. Another question would be: is it worth it.

Set the goal, get the goal. These were the words of an athletic director I worked for in my early days of being a Personal Trainer. The phrase was actually used as sales pitch to entice people to sign up for training sessions. The words felt cheesy at the time- but somehow they’ve stuck with me for years.

A good trainer will be able to assess where a client is and set up a program to get them from where they are to where they want to be. One thing I always ask a new client is how many days per week they will be able to devote to training. It’s a non-judgmental question meant to inform me (and them) on how long it will likely take the client to get where they want to be.

A lot of middle-aged women want arms like Michelle Obama. All I can tell you is Michelle works out more than 1X/week. So. Can you settle for arms that look more toned than yours but not quite Michelle’s? Because on a quick google search I found this: Michelle Obama works out almost every day, except when she is traveling. Her routine includes a mix of cardio, Pilates, tennis, and kickboxing. She has also been known to wake up as early as 4:30 a.m. to make time for her workouts.

Achievable goals, my friends.

As for me- well, I’m in the business of training and health so maybe I’m willing to put more time into my workouts than the average person. Still- my athletic friend and client who swims in the open ocean and ran a marathon suggested to me that I start with the shorter duration “Sprint Triathlon” (rather than the Marathon Tri) when I told her my plans for 2026. Achievable Goals.

Similarly, my younger daughter recently and bravely came to see that a goal of hers was perhaps too big of a bite to chew. It’s not that the ultimate goal isn’t achievable, rather- the reaching for it felt consistently defeating. Sometimes we put the cart in front of the horse. Reminds me of the stock market when a stock price suddenly skyrockets seemingly out of nowhere- and then has to drop back down to backfill the gap it created. It’s ok, and there’s nothing “wrong” with overshooting….but life will most likely make us go back and fill in the gaps. Writer Samuel Beckett said “Try again. Fail again. Fail better.”

I’m sore this morning because I’m pushing myself towards my goal to do the (Sprint) Triathlon next year.. I go to the pool. I hate the pool. I hate cold(ish) water. I hate the swim cap and goggles. I hate the dead bees in the pool. I hate that it’s hard. I hate that I’m bad at it. But I was damn proud to swim my first 500 meters the other day. And, as I’ve told you- I hate running. Though I’m learning to hate it less- because I’m running a little bit further here and there and in the habit of telling myself: You did that!

If you want Michelle Obama arms— what it will take and what can you give? If you want to do a triathlon. If you want to make a million dollars. If you want to become a famous actor. If you want to plant a huge garden. If you want to play the guitar. If you want to get into Harvard. If you want to be bi-lingual. What are you willing to commit to? What’s in the way that’s keeping you from committing more? How can you keep things reasonable and not overshoot? It’s an inside job to figure out the answers to these questions. That’s what I tell my kids, that’s what I remind myself, and that’s what it always comes back to.

Are you willing to fail is an interesting question. But a much more interesting question to me is… are you willing to succeed?

The idea of a Sprint Triathlon keeps me training but keeps the dread out of it. The distances are reasonable enough that I can take time to focus on speed and technique rather than just praying I can finish the event without dying. It’s an achievable goal.

Brick by brick, my fellow goal-setters. Stroke by stroke. push-up by push-up and step by step. Are you with me? What’s your goal for 2026? Let’s get ‘em, tiger.

You’ll want to read last week’s post if you missed it. Adding on from there.

Joined the club to use the lap pool. Yes. Can “swim” but not a swimmer. Don’t know the strokes. Never have. Put on my swim cap and goggles at dusk on a Friday when I hoped no one would be around to see me trying not to drown for next 30 minutes. Tried to remember all the cues from the Instagram videos I’d watched the previous days and did my best to breathe correctly doing freestyle. Turning the head at the right time, at the right angle, taking sips of air. I could breathe somewhat ok on the left. Taking breaths on the right sent me down like a torpedo. Swallowed enough water to fill a toddler pool.

After about 25 minutes (felt like 4 months), I got out of the pool. Was so dizzy, swerved like a drunkard and barely caught myself before hitting cement. Laid out in the nearest chaise lounge and tried not to puke. Made it to the showers and asked myself 4000 times What do you think you’re doing? Got to the car and sat there for 15 minutes in mild shock.

Came home, told Brad about all of it. He was on swim team in High School and is thus a decent swimmer. He laughed in my face (in a loving way) and told me that I need to concentrate on one aspect of swimming at a time.
No shit. I said. I almost died.
Sounds like you were fighting the water, he said.
No shit. I said. I almost died.

You’re fine! he said. (I love that about him. And by the way- one should never undervalue the words “you’re fine” when told to you by a trusted person.) Anyway- he’s going to come watch me in the pool next week. (I don’t think he’ll say I’m fine then, but if he does, I’ll be so relieved!)

Good news. Upper body - especially shoulders - held up well from my years of strength training. I even felt at one moment if I could take a friggin breath without flailing I might actually be a decent swimmer. Not overly sore this morning but definitely feel body fatigue - probably mostly from the emotional stress of being afraid of the water and drinking half the contents of the pool.

Scary shit learning to do something athletically new at 53 (nearly 54.) Working on not being a baby (this is Brad’s advice.) One of my clients is a swimmer and does long open ocean swims. I keep telling her how amazing she is. She always says…" “but I can’t do a handstand like you.” I hardly think ocean -swimming and handstands are comparable. But thanks for trying to make me feel better! (Wink.)

Seriously though, one day at a time. Next time I’m looking forward to using a pull buoy (a float held by the legs) which (theoretically) should make it easier for me to focus on the breathing. Plus if Brad can give me some tips, maybe one day soon I will get out of the pool like a normal person. Just a normal person who had a normal swim. Is that so much to ask?

Things were mellow enough in my life last weekend that I actually had time to look at myself for a moment and see what there was to see. On the outside I saw someone with very tight shoulders and a tight chest. However, I also saw that there was not presently any “crisis-energy” reverberating through my body. Simply said: hard things were feeling easier. And I was shocked to see that possibly, just maybe, I had an opportunity to focus on me.

That was when I decided, suddenly, and to my own wild apprehension and sheer terror, that maybe I would do a triathlon next year. Once I had the thought it was like being in a room full of people and blurting out something you immediately want to take back. But you can’t! It’s out there. By the way, the thought didn’t just appear in my head like a rabbit out of a magician’s hat. It had been put there by a headline I’d seen about an 80-year-old woman who had completed a triathlon. Well, if she can, I thought to myself.

I’ve hardly been on a bike since I was in Jr. High. I can swim well enough to get to the other side of a pool (hopefully.) As for running, I’ve never pushed myself to be a better runner and while I do usually run once or twice a week, it’s a short distance. Probably an ant covers more ground in a day than I do on one of my runs. Once I was going to run a 5k. Then I didn’t. That pretty much describes me as a runner.

As the thought crossed my mind that I might do a triathlon, I first thought of the costs associated. I’d need a bike, for one thing. And I’d need to join the gym to use the pool - no way in hell will I learn to be a better swimmer by starting out swimming in the ocean. In fact, the thought of having to swim in the ocean for the triathlon itself makes me sick to think about. I’m scared of deep water (even in a pool.) Also scared of sharks, cold water, and waves. This is going to be interesting, I told myself. It was then I decided: You can’t do this.

Then, I sat on the couch until I heard another voice. This one said: Don’t listen to her. She doesn’t know you.

I decided right then to go for a run and run longer and faster than I ever had! I did it in the heat of day. I went as fast as I could (which is slower than maybe 98% of all runners.). When I got back home I was breathing heavy and came to see I’d gone basically the same distance in the same time that I usually did.

I know how to make gains while running, but I don’t do those things. It’s like I think suddenly, magically, I will become a better runner by doing the same things that never propel me further. When you really want to learn and grow, you have to do what you haven’t done.

I know from my own experience with my weight training clients - they will not make gains until they break down their stubborn rigid ideas and let me get in there and do my job. In order to succeed, sometimes you have to get out of your own comfort zone.

So last night I told myself that I had to start running differently and in order to do that I needed to listen to the experts. I needed to slow down my speed and work on endurance. I needed to run slow enough to be able to feel like I could keep going past my normal burn out zone.

I set out running at 6:15 a.m. when the world was still dark. This was a first. I had never run so early. Immediately I loved it. The air was cool and fresh and the world was in shades of blue and gray. No cars. No people. No noise. I ran in my neighborhood streets reminding myself that I was not going to push. I tried to remember all the things I knew to do when running but often ignored. Short strides, relaxed hands. When I started out I felt that familiar tightness in my chest and upper back. Instead of trying to fight it, I allowed it to be there- I figured if I couldn’t run with some level of discomfort I wasn’t going to be able to run frequently. BUT YOU’RE DYING! A well-known voice within me exclaimed.

As I continued on for a while longer I realized that maybe for the first time ever I was actually running without pushing. I saw for once how people could actually enjoy running, the pain in my chest and shoulder blades melted away as my body got warmer. I was pain-free and enjoying my run. At one point I looked at my speed on my watch and almost got upset. Then I remembered, that wasn’t the point of my run, and it wouldn’t be the point of many of my upcoming runs as I started to build something I’d never athletically built before: endurance.

The idea of doing a triathlon SCARES THE SHIT OUT OF ME. I want to add so many disclaimers saying why I may not even do it. But I have 10 months to just continue on. To flounder around in the pool and piss off the expert swimmers - to bike slow enough to annoy any other surrounding bikers. 10 full months to endure myself, and my discrediting voices. And maybe, even, to ignore them.

1. Me hanging out downside-up. (more workout stuff found here.)

2. Butterfly I found on the way to the compost.

3. Incredible moves by street dancer Kareem Ali witnessed during a visit Balboa Park, San Diego. (That’s Chloe in the green shirt, she was pulled from the crowd.)

4. Monarch caterpillar munching away in my mama’s yard.

5. Amma happy in the school yard (her favorite place.)

6. Matcha in San Diego (and Chloe’s pretty arm.)

7. Stunning neighborhood beach from a walk with hubby.

8. Amazing drawing by Olivia - a sketch for a school art class assignment

9. Make-it-yourself Poki Salad from Lazy Acres in Santa Barbara - a fave of Brad and mine.

10. Homemade Protein Salad (I rarely eat eggs, but once in a while…yummmm)

11. Client and son planking out.

12. Winter garden starting up.

13. My very long-time “ladies workout group” warming down.

Here’s the thing about having a child
you are connected beyond the soul.
(Beyond the soul!
Can there be such a thing?)

Consider
the intelligence of
the universe and its ancient stars
the deep forests and
crystalline pools
far beyond
the beyond.

Sit on the bed of your child
and feel
not what appears
but what is!

The absolute value of this child.

Not your stagnant perception.
No.
Drop that!
let it break
re-focus:

The things in her room
the faces she drew
the (precious) tiny messages buried
in the dirty
sticky
tangled
mess

See what she sees!

With perspective over rules
and freedom over shelter
there comes a time
to welcome your child
to all you fear about the world
and watch her rise.

It’s been a minute. While I can’t say much about why I’ve been gone, I can say that during a recent stretch of challenging times, my life as I knew it shifted. Like a tectonic plate.

Doesn’t matter “what” happened (much of it is not my story to tell.) Rather, think of your own life. Ever go through a really hard time when even going to the store felt like a foreign occurrence? One in which you were so far outside the realm of normal life you felt like a stranger on earth? I had days and weeks and months when I went to the store with my baseball cap pulled down so low it nearly covered my eyes.

It was as if we had to turn a huge ship around. Huge. (And our arms got so tired from turning, and turning.)

Exercise proves a challenge in such times. Not sure I made gains, but I didn’t stop making sure I took care of myself as best I could. The crisis itself kind of took on a form - one that I could push against. I would mumble things like: You’re not taking me down! At one point, Brad and I were taking so many walks to just try and make sense of the challenges surrounding us, we eventually came to the opinion that hardship was a great motivation for long walks.

Weekends, when I would previously settle to write here, became a time when I needed quiet. To give nothing and say nothing.

The beginning of the shift will always be marked Oct 2024 with the extremely sudden death of our 5-year-old beloved dog Kody. That was hard, but merely a prelude to the months ahead. We slipped and slid.

On top of all of the serious chaos we were dealing with we had an additional “side problem.” It was a dog named Koa whom we had adopted from a rescue shortly after Kody died. The rescue was not forthcoming about Koa’s streak of aggressiveness and we soon came to see we had a dog with a lot more issues than we signed up for. Koa liked to eat things you’re not supposed to eat (socks, dish towels) and that cost us thousands of dollars. But that wasn’t the worst problem. It was the occasional aggression we couldn’t handle. Koa is beautiful and cuddly and smart and sweet so we gave him every chance. But after a year and $4000 of intensive dog training, we finally admitted we weren’t getting where we needed to with this dog in order to keep him.

Luckily, one of the people who had worked with Koa as a trainer took him in. Stephen is sweet kid in his 20’s who fell in love with all Koa’s great qualities (and was eager to continue to work on the not-so-great.) Stephen texted me the other day a bit worried because Koa ate part of a leash. “Yep. He’ll probably throw it up, give him a few days.” I said. Two days later Stephen texted me again: “Great news…!”

We still have a dog at home. She’s an old baby, 12 years, and she doesn’t make it much further than around the block. So, for the first time in almost 25 years I walk dog-less. I head to the bluffs and out to the waves where I dunk my head in the ocean. Even though we live less than a mile from this magnificent place, in the past I never went regularly. These days I go a lot. Run, walk, dunk.

The other day, Stephen sent us a video of Koa rolling around in the back seat of his car after a trip to the beach. Turns out we were really just fostering Koa this past year as we waited for Stephen to show up. It makes me realize: sometimes, in the thick of it, you don’t understand the why. But eventually, when you look back, you do. Look closer still and you can see there’s a bit of magic woven in. Gold threads hidden in the tapestry of life. Meant-to-be-ness.

I apply that thought to the larger scope of my life as I get ready to head out to the bluffs. I run and run until I hit the edge where I scan for dolphins and whales. I think about how life challenge makes for deep self-reliance, a stronger bonding with those you love most. I think of the image of turning a ship, the fatigue and the insight, the willingness to learn, to cry, to be patient, worried, uncomfortable, exhausted, steadfast.

Then I head down the steep and slippery shale path to the beach where the sand is warm. Suddenly, near the end of the path, I slip. Both feet come out from under me and I fall hard on my side. There’s that initial moment of shock, where things aren’t as expected. And then, it turns out, I’m ok.

I’ve always loved hollyhocks. When the girls were little, we would zip up to Cambria for an easy two day trip. Walking around town, I always made sure we cruised by a little rustic house which had in its yard the most beautiful hollyhocks. I loved the delicate papery flowers and the strong tall stems. (Once I measured and they were taller than me!) Hollyhocks remind me of English cottage gardens and simpler times. (Interesting fact: they’ve been grown for centuries and were popular in Medieval gardens!)

As much as I tried over the years, I never had luck with Hollyhocks in my own garden. On the rare occasion that I would find them as starters in the nursery, I could not for the life of me get them to bloom. It was just about a month ago when I thought of Hollyhocks again and inquired at the nursery if they had starters. They didn’t, and informed me that while they could get the seeds, I should know that Hollyhocks only bloom their second year.

AH! I said. It all made sense. I’d never been lucky with Hollyhocks because they don’t bloom in the first year. Bummer, I thought. Who wants to wait two years?

Food and flower gardens have been a challenge for us on our property. Varmints of different variations mostly. Years vary, but last year was especially rough. I spent hours and hours trying to keep critters out of my huge and healthy tomato plants. I planted mint to deter them, put up garden fencing and gopher proofed what I could. In the end, what the gophers didn’t get, rats did. And what rats didn’t get, mice took care of. Critters are smart- and they broke me. Eventually I gave up and they dined on my green tomatoes and baby zucchini for the rest of the Summer

After last Summer, Brad thought I was crazy to consider another garden. But then again, I’m a gardener at heart and a strong-headed capricorn. So- I planted veggies. I threw caution to the wind, and decided it would be what it was. When it would have made historical sense for me to try harder, I hardly tried. I barely fertilized or amended the soil. I spent a few spare moments throwing up some sort of fencing that wouldn’t stop any animal, especially a determined varmint.

It’s not that I didn’t care about the garden surviving, it’s that I was tired. Burnt out. Burnt out means you have been rung out like a towel. It was like…last Spring there emerged an upbeat little gardener from within me, hoe in hand. But it arrived into the shell of a worn-down, menopausal mother of teens.

At one point during the spring season, the gardener within me threw a bunch of “Bee Garden” wildflower seeds into one of the garden boxes. In the past, seeds never worked for me as I forgot to regularly water them during the work week. I knew there was even less chance of them being watered this year. I planted them anyway…

…and maybe you can guess where this little story is heading. As I was telling it to Brad last night he said: I see where this is going, so get to the point.

Brad and I are a bit tired. Mostly, we’ve never been middle aged before and it’s all new. We’ve never worked this hard. We never imagined it. We’ve never worried so much about the state of the world. We are parenting with intense purpose, trying to educate our kids in a very certain way in the short and precious window of their late teen years ..just as they start to “wake up” to the real world.

Last week, a dear friend was in town and as my 17-year-old and I sat with her over coffee, I said to my friend: Talk to my daughter about money. I sat back with my coffee and a wave of relief washed over me knowing that in the next 30 minutes, my child would get exactly what she needed to hear. My friend said so many clear-headed things that the next day my 17-year-old started up an online business she had been thinking about for a long time.

I know it seems like I got side tracked there with that last paragraph but…trust me, somehow, it’s all part of it. I have felt desperate for guidance these past 9 months. Mostly I have needed to guide myself, researching my way out of awful menopause symptoms (I did it) and enjoying/enduring/experiencing the trepidatious and intense shaping of my teens

whom I must sometimes parent
by the light of my scars.

We do the best we can (well, most of us do.) What does it mean to do your best? To scatter seeds when you’re too tired to do so. To let the gardener take residence within you when you don’t believe the garden will grow.

I will never forget how I asked my friend to take over like that. Just for a moment. And how she did. Seamlessly. She, who can finish my sentences, who could silently, energetically say in that moment: Sit back mama, I got this. And I sat back with my coffee. (GOD it felt good to sit back! )

Yesterday, I took the dog-in-training into the garden on a leash. (Have you ever tried to work in the garden and hold a dog on a leash? Didn’t think so. It’s not for the faint of heart.) First I watered the beautiful (nearly-red) tomatoes and cucumbers and zucchini.

Then, I began to weed the grass-filled bed where many months ago I had thrown the seeds. I was soon sweating- pulling out a lot of hard-rooted crab grass (and the dog was pulling me the other way) when suddenly emerged a flash of purple and pink. Lupine and cosmos and alstroemeria began to show themselves from where weeds had once been. I continued to pull more weeds closer to the center of the bed until …I came upon…wispy petals on a stocky stem; a strong, paper-white Hollyhock. And another. And another, with buds tight. Ready to grow tall, above and beyond.

I ran back into the house, tripping over the dog, straight to the computer to find out it is rare, but not impossible, for a hollyhock to bloom early.

But only when conditions are just right.

My college girl is finished with Freshman year and home for the Summer. My high school girl just ended her junior year. Both kids finished strong, have summer jobs and are in good, happy places. That means a lot, as this past year wasn’t an easy one. Let’s just say these past nine months made me a much stronger parent and changed me fundamentally in many ways.

We had a big family hug in the kitchen yesterday, Father’s Day. I cried. (As did my older daughter - we are the criers of the family.) Feels like we are slowly emerging out of the other side of a bad storm. You are only as happy as your most unhappy child —when everyone is happy, mama is a bright shiny star.

Without telling anyone else’s story- how can I explain in a few words what brought us out of the tumult of the last 9 months? Therapy. A willingness to trudge. Learning to see the forest for the trees.

What I realized these past years - and especially the last difficult year- is that I crave order in my life. I had kind of gotten by without it for so long. I always admired people who had things in adult order. Envied them, even. It’s kind of hard to describe, but I had always felt a little haphazard or chaotic in my approach to life. I guess there is a beauty in chaos, to a point. Many creatives have an untamed feel to them (and on a core level I am more aligned with “creative” than anything else.) But a creative approach only gets you so far in life in my experience.

Years ago, when the kids were little, I thought I could put together an Ikea bookshelf without following the instructions. I finished putting it together, put all the books on, dusted off my hands, and stood back proudly to appreciate my good work. Late that night, there was a very loud crash.

Looking back, my constant “free” approach to things was likely tinted with some ADHD. After all, reading instructions takes a focused stillness. It’s why I could sew cool things, but never from a pattern, and sometimes the stitches came loose. I could go so far to say that “creativity” can provide a place to hide away from stillness.

~~~

So, we got this dog, right? We got him from a rescue when our other beloved 5 year old dog suddenly (and I mean suddenly) died of cancer. And during this time period, you see, we had other hard things going on. Our lives were a big mess. And in comes this young dog we adopted to quell the pain of our other dog’s death.

He was supposed to be easy. A problem-free dog. That’s what the rescue owner promised us. Short story: he was far from problem free. This dog had more issues than Blake Lively and Justin Baldoni. This dog had more issues than a Sunday Newspaper. This dog had more issues than…. well, you get it. When we called to complain about this “problem-free” dog the rescue said they could take him back…and put him down!

So here we were left with this dog running (and in some ways ruining) our lives. Although he never bit anyone or anything, he was aggressively reactive with other dogs and had a huge attachment disorder. After trying many things - including one hella expensive trainer that didn’t work- we contemplated putting him down (but only for one tiny second because that is an AWFUL thought!)

SO: today is the first day of hard-core training school for Koa - two weeks of all day intensive training at the most highly rated facility here in town- “any dog, any problem”. I’m not sure it’s quite military training, but it’s pretty close. Whatever it is, I say: Have at it boys! Try this kid on for size! (And for the price, I should be getting back a dog that makes my breakfast.)

See? Order. I need order in my life. I need all kids and dogs to act as they should. I need myself to act as I should! Not rigid and uncreative. No. Not in a way that is blocking all freedom. Just reading the instructions. Capiche? I just don’t want to be one of those people that apologizes for bad behavior.

One of the things I learned in family therapy this past year is that boundaries are essential. A child needs them, a mom needs them, a dad needs them, a sister needs them, a dog needs them. When we went in to the dog training facility last week to have Koa assessed, the head trainer told us we had a very unconfident dog. He’s not aggressive, he’s confused. That sounds familiar, I thought.

Life is confusing. Hard things happening in life make it all the more confusing. Here we have a dog that was found on the streets. He’s got some shit to work out.

The way I see it, human therapy and dog training both provide instructions on slowing down. Sometimes you can’t see the forest for the trees. This is most definitely what my dog needs help with, and it’s most definitely what my teens are learning, and it’s most definitely what I have devoted my life to learning. That ultimate reworking of ourselves into something more, free - actually. There is nothing worse than being a prisoner of your own chaos. Slow down, assess and start building with the instructions.

First, a solid framework.
Then, comes freedom.

(I’ll keep you posted on the dog.)

Last week was the first week in 18 months that I’ve taken off from this space! I’m back, summer is (nearly) here and I’ll catch you up on my recents.

There’s been a lot going on with one home from college and a full house again. Also, I’m still in my re-balancing phase for this new time in life. Maybe I’m having a midlife crisis (in mostly good ways) but I find it’s hard lately to do the extra things, like show up here. My practice is to just do it, though as far as this publication is concerned (Regardless of who is on the other side doing the reading.) Just like one may not want to meditate every day, or exercise, showing up is half the battle. Here I am.

First, it’s taken me 53 years to understand that the garden doesn’t need to go in all at once. A little here, a little there every weekend. It’s true, it could all get demolished by critters. But- I’m hopeful! The garden vibe this year is good. Already in: tomatoes, basil, cucumbers + lettuce and we are still harvesting onions (and compost!) from last year. I do a little every week. That’s all I can handle with the rest of my schedule. It’s enough!

Also I thought I would share some of the vibrant, healthy protein-filled magic that’s been in our blender these days.

These two smoothie recipes are my own, and customizable. Meaning, they can be tweaked towards your needs or inspiration. That said, I am sharing the ingredients we have been using and loving. These have been powerful adds for me at this time in my. life, and my kids are digging them too. We do smoothies everyday around here.

~The Vibrant Berry~
1 serving Vanilla Protein Powder
Large handful fresh organic Strawberries and/or Blueberries
2 frozen organic bananas
Oat milk (or another plant milk) or water to the consistency you like.
1 TBP Chia seeds
My optional add ins:
Creatine - I do this in mine (not kids) 20-60 minutes before or after exercise
Mary Ruth Liquid Multivitamin for the kids! “One and done” is great for kids + teens!

~Green Alignment~
1 serving Vanilla Protein Powder
2 frozen organic bananas
Oat milk (or another plant milk) or water to the consistency you like.
Handful of fresh green spinach
1/2 avocado (to add some healthy fat)
optional add ins:
Vimergy Barley Grass Powder
Vimergy Spirulina Powder

I hope you enjoy your first days of Summer! XO