Country Road

In my quest to figure out exactly what nourishes my soul, I've become more keenly aware of what I have been missing. Quite simply, my life is sorely missing natural aesthetics.  At my very depths, I have always been a country girl. I would take a night under the stars, laying next to a crackling fire on a blanket, over a night out in the city.  The thought of sitting in a grassy meadow surrounded by pines takes first billing over a front row seat to the ballet. I'm a simple girl, with simple tastes.  Given this, one might find it odd that I am living my life and raising my beautiful  children in the desert. I know I find it odd and quite frankly, the disconnect between who I am at my very core and where I live has been steadily growing over the last couple of years; and while I am grateful for the many sights, smells, and wildlife only afforded by the desert, I can't help but yearn for something greener. I dream of playing in the leaves with my children in the fall and building cliched snowmen with them in the winter. 

I miss this.

The Power of a Few, Short Words

Tomorrow I'm scheduled to have eye surgery.

To most, surgery conjures up images of blood, guts, and pain. In all honesty, I haven't been worried about the idea, the surgery, or the recovery period. My confidence in my surgeon and the necessity of the surgery have all fueled my optimism towards the procedure. I have basically just thought of it as something I have to do on Wednesday.

That all changed today.

I was standing in line at Target, waiting to fill a script the doctor had given me for post-op "discomfort." I had had the script floating around in my purse for some time and hadn't looked at it until I pulled it out to hand it to the pharmacy tech. As I was pulling it out, 4 words caught my eye. They stood out from the rest of the chicken scratch on the little blue sheet.

They read: FOR SEVERE EYE PAIN

And just like that, my confidence flew away down the antacid aisle at Target.

All of a sudden, my Wednesday isn't looking so hot anymore.

It's amazing how much power a few simple words can wield.

Working the Forest into the Trees

We recently came back from a long camping trip in New Mexico. Not surprisingly, I'm still hearing echoes of the wind in the trees and deeply missing the vast, black, star filled nights. Our annual pilgrimage to NM is always filled with laughter, wonder, and exploration. Hanging in a hammock, strung between two sturdy and regal pines, and drinking wine by starlight are always welcome comforts. In the city, the sky is never quite dark and solitude and pure silence are truly non-existant. When there, I never seem to have trouble relaxing. I'm never too busy to play a full blown battle of Star Wars Monopoly. Flashlight wars, skipping rocks in the lake, football tossing, and soccer games flow seamlessly and effortlessly throughout the days. Late night tuck-ins are no big deal and late morning get-ups are even better. It truly is a vacation for the family, for mind, for body and at its very depth, it's rest for my soul.

So, my question is, how to keep that peace not afforded by city life?

When away, in the trees, I see it all - the red bluffs, the pinons, the ponderosas, the meadows, as one beautiful masterpiece. I don't focus in on each piece, it's all part of a beautifully painted whole - the forest. When home, it's different. It's easy to get sucked into the everyday. It's easy to focus on every little detail, instead of looking at the grand scheme of things. Work beckons around every corner. Hustle and bustle, as cliche as the terminology is, is what life is...hectic and ever moving; an endless stream of laundry, dishes, bills, homework, housework, jobs, dinners, and need. Although life is good, it's really not that hard to wonder if I am missing it while living it.

In honor of my growing pains (1st post on here), here's a promise to myself. From here on out, I'm going to let the laundry sit a little longer. The dishes can wait a few more minutes. Homework time will be more fun, and well, the bills, I just have to finally accept that they'll always be there, just as a pesky fly at a picnic is always lurking around your next bite.

So, in honor of this new self-promise, here's a toast to me:

A toast to squeezing more forest into my trees.

Growing Pains

When it comes to want, we each have our own definitions. For some, want is more of a need. The want for food or shelter or love. Basic needs that are aligned with basic wants. For others, want is far more expansive; a new home, a better job, a more fit and trim body.  Want, in the most general of terms beyond the necessities of emotional and physical survival,  is indeed both a luxury and a burden. And today, I find myself uncomfortably comfortable in the in-between. While my basic needs are in tact, working my way up Maslow's hierarchy is a very strange and unsettling experience. I'm in the middle of an emotional growth spurt, but just as a young child's bones ache during physical growth, my emotions are wracked with strain. Simply put,  for the first time in  my adult life, I just don't know what I want. As a parent, it's easy to say what you want for your children.  Health, happiness, friendships, etc. But somewhere along the parenting road, it's easy to forget ourselves. It's easy to make our needs synonymous with the wants we have for our children. Somehow, we forget that we haven't stopped growing and in all truth, needing. It's time for me to grow, and I'm going to take my time, planting the right seeds that will nourish my soul's needs.