Newly minted...

It's official! On Friday, December 13, after 16 months of in-depth study, practice, mentoring and testing, I graduated from Invite Change, an International Coach Federation-accredited vocational training program, as a life coach.

While I've been doing this work in some fashion unofficially for much of my adult life, this at last makes it official. Here's what the Invite Change faculty had to say about me at our graduation celebration:

And that's "d" for damn, as in Damn Good Coach, an intention I set for myself when I started the Mastery program, the last of five courses in their Certified Professional Coach curriculum. And while I have learned new skills, built upon talents, developed my processes, and honed my instincts, the best things that came from this program were the relationships - with my cohorts, especially, but also with my instructors and mentors, as well as my trusting clients. And if I'm really honest, the relationship with myself. I have done an even deeper dive and come out with much greater awareness, clarity, understanding, compassion, confidence, appreciation, and recognition of who I am, what I believe, how I operate, what moves me, drives me, makes me tick, as well as where I limit myself and get in my own way (of which I'm doing less of, by the way).

It's been a rewarding, fascinating 16 months, for which I'm truly grateful. What's next? Keep on coaching! The experience of coaching is hard to describe in words, and yet, its value is both extraordinary and measurable. If your curiosity is at all piqued, I have more information on my website.

How to be hopeful and helpful during the holidays

For all the hoopla, fun, and togetherness some experience during the holidays, the season also comes with extra tasks and expectations. And for some, it's a lonely time of year. The days are short and dark, ads in print, on the airwaves and on the internet depict happy gatherings, gifts and good times. Perhaps because it's also the end of the year, all those unmet goals and ideals can amplify in their importance. I know my world can be a crazy mash up of all of these.

What to do? Here are a few things I try to keep in mind as the clock ticks faster and the days evaporate.

• Prioritize. What's really important - and as important, who decides? Check in with yourself to see if it's an obligation you can renegotiate or somehow do differently. Or not do at all. What's the worst that can happen if something doesn't get done? Carefully evaluate what's worthy of keeping on the overflowing to-do list. 
• Say no. Measure the value of invitations, engagements and expectations. Where will your help or offering be most appreciated and valued? What will you remember most when it's all behind you? 
• Say yes. What's the most meaningful to you this time of year? How can you practice radical self-care in the midst of it all? 
• How much is enough? Will the trinkets and gifts be memorable in the years - or even days - to come? If not, what can you do differently? There are countless charitable organizations that would welcome gifts of time, money or needed supplies. And there's something for every interest: animal lovers and conservationists, or the homeless, seniors or children in need. I aim for local, but CharityWatch has some ideas for global organizations that make a difference. 
• Reach out. If you have time or energy to give, or need someone to give to you, there are many ways to do this. Sometimes there's no better way to feel hopeful and helpful than to give to others, even when it feels like we have nothing to give. There's no shame in needing support. We all have low points, and we all need to rejuvenate and replenish. At points throughout our lives, we all give and take. The scales eventually balance, in whatever way they need to, whether a direct exchange or we pay it forward. 

A few final tips that keep me sane... Despite my penchant for shopping the rest of the year, I try to avoid malls and big box stores from mid-November to Boxing Day. I make small things for girlfriends, and buy gifts like preserves or special indulgences from the farmers market. Usually there's a new product I'm particularly excited about - a locally crafted chocolate, coffee or tea, or a soap or body product - and I share that. I don't get energy from people the way I used to (as I age, I'm becoming more introverted), so a random party is less meaningful to me than reading a book or watching favorite Christmas specials for the umpteenth time. Or going for a nice long walk, bundled like a weeble-wobble.

Notice what gives you energy, and do that. And notice what drains you, and see what you can do differently. Chances are, as you start to pay attention, you'll feel the difference.

And, if you thrive on chaos, now's your time. Enjoy!

Sated: Full fat or no fat, please

Today I read yet another article explaining how we've been doing it wrong. For years, doctors gave us the wrong advice about what to eat and what to avoid. Unwittingly, maybe... but their tune is changing, and we'll all be better for it. Avoiding fat isn't the answer to better health. Eating real, whole foods is.

I grimace whenever I see a health "authority" recommending a low fat diet or when I can only find non-fat products on the grocery shelves. Regardless of the changing tune, there's still a lot of misinformation out there. I read it in articles online and off, I see it at work in our cafes - where low fat is king. And I see it in random places where it seems to me it's a "shouldn't be." Most low fat foods also have unhealthy additives, not to mention they're low on the satisfaction scale.

I followed the no-fat path for a while. When Joe Piscatella's book, Don't Eat Your Heart Out, came out in the '80s, I gave up just about everything. I stopped eating red meat - no more fast food burgers for me! No butter, no oil. No bacon! And just non-fat dairy. I was determined. I hated the way high fat foods felt in my mouth.

I eventually fell off that wagon, but I stayed on that track for a number of years - a move to Vancouver and regular visits to a naturopath only made my diet more extreme - I gave up all dairy, corn, yeast, wheat and caffeine, among other things.

Now, many years, lots of research, and trial and error led me back to whole foods. Foods with natural fats are flavorful and satisfying. They're not laden with fillers or chemicals. And I'm not talking about deep fried foods, nor chips or foods made from highly processed or genetically engineered oils. Just whole, real foods. Cream. Butter. Grass-fed beef. Olive and coconut oils, and rich, creamy avocados. Nuts and seeds. And yes, even bacon occasionally - ideally when I know where it's from. Appropriately proportioned, these are healthy, satisfying choices.

My new favorite thing? Kefir. Most grocers sell just a couple of brands, and mostly low fat or non fat. But the real prize is from our local Grace Harbor Farms. This stuff is rich and delicious. If you're not in the Northwest, perhaps there's a local dairy near you with something similar. It might be worth exploring. Kefir has the added benefit of being fermented, full of probiotics - the good bacteria our bodies need. Greek yogurt is also a healthy option, but I think the best advice is to read the ingredients on the containers you pick up. If it's full of stuff you can't visualize or pronounce, it might be good to pass up.

Studies show: Small food choices can have a big impact

As a member of my local natural foods co-op, I'm a lucky recipient of their monthly newsletter, in which they regularly publish articles about food, farming, nutrition and health, including news bites from other publications.

The food / health connection is one I've made - incrementally - for 25 years or more, and I regularly read studies and news articles from a wide variety of sources, keeping in mind that findings change and results can be skewed by wherever the research money comes from.

One constant: What we put in our bodies does matter. Whether you're looking to lose weight, manage a health condition, want better nutrition, or avoid pesticides and contaminants - there are no shortage of reasons to read, watch and care.

A couple of clips from the November PCC Sound Consumer news bites caught my attention:

• Because diabetes is pervasive in my family, I'm intrigued by a new Harvard study: Just two servings per week of whole fruit can reduce the risk of Type 2 diabetes by 23%. Just two per week! They suggest apples, grapes and blueberries in particular. When my mom was learning how to manage her diabetes at the Joslin Diabetes Center, I remember learning that because of their high sugar content, grapes could negatively impact blood sugar and should be eaten with other food or avoided. So this is new for me. That said, the study also confirms that fruit juice can increase risk - which isn't new (fresh vegetable juice is a better option, or a smoothie with protein). Orange juice can get your blood sugar back to normal quickly when it's low, but fruit juice, particularly commercial, is never an optimal choice for health. Just two... That's a small step to reduce your chances by over 20% if you're at risk. I know food deserts exist, but for most of us, finding a couple of apples is as close as a grocery store. We just have to make that choice.
   
• Since others in my family either succumbed to heart disease or are in some way managing it, a report by the Union of Concerned Scientists made me take note. The study states that if we increase our fruit and vegetable intake to the daily requirement,* 127,000 deaths from heart disease could be prevented - not just saving lives but also saving about $17 billion in annual medical costs (nationally). Just adding a half-cup a day to our current average diet could save $2.7 trillion. So while they're talking numbers and dollars, what those really mean is better health for those who do this. 

For not much effort, those are some impressive numbers.

Eating well doesn't have to be hard, although changing habits can be. That's why even incremental change can make a difference. Maybe start with one or both of these if you're not already doing them. Or just choose one thing - whatever that looks like for you - that makes you feel better. Then see what happens?

A lot of what we eat is what we're used to, often what we grew up with. We like it, we say, when we may not have have anything to compare it to, or haven't given other types of foods a chance. I said that about fast food cheeseburgers not so many years ago. Now I can't imagine eating any kind of fast food; I just can't un-know what I've learned about food. And what I like and what I crave has changed as I incrementally changed the foods I ate.

This was wildly evident at Thanksgiving. These were the foods I grew up eating - and loved. While I enjoyed the visit to memory lane, even my mother's "famous" cranberry marshmallow salad will remain in my past, along with canned cranberries, white rolls, margarine and Cool Whip topping (although I admit, I'll still put black olives on all my fingers and then eat them...). I've trained my palette to like the real thing, the healthier thing for me, and I can't go back.



*The RDA varies by age and gender. While I agree we all need to eat more fruit and vegetables, I would argue some of our government recommendations, and wish they'd push for better food, generally. 

Giving thanks: It really is about choice

I was thankfully reminded last night while having dinner with my aunt and uncle that it's not just genetics that influence how we age.

My uncle, my mom's brother, turned 79 last month, and he looks pretty good. He's still spry, square dances twice a week, and does most of the repairs on his home and rental property. He's aging, clearly, and slowing down; he's had a few health challenges, but nothing that's threatened his mortality or that requires intense management (that I'm aware of). I have long said lifestyle trumps genetics, and I'm taking this as proof that my maternal ancestry doesn't necessarily doom me to a shorter life.

I've had far too many relatives leave the mortal coil at too young an age. My cousin Terri, whose birthday would have been Monday, was just 54 when she died from lung cancer. Cousin Sherri was 52. Their paternal aunt lived into her 90s, though, so I take this as yet another example of lifestyle over genetics.

Other relatives also succumbed to lifestyle-based illness: my mom at 64, her sisters at 60 and 48. Two great aunts in my maternal blood line lived the longest - Alma to 88, her youngest sister, Vernis, to 78. They didn't smoke, among other things. And my mom's maternal cousin, bless her, is well into her 90s and living fully and vivaciously. Whew! But these are just three exceptions on my mom's side.

On the paternal side, I've mentioned that my uncle is now into his 80s, and until recently, competed in weight lifting competitions around the world. I like those genetics!

When I think about genetics, I get scared I'll die a premature death, before I've fully lived the dreams I've envisioned. After all, mom - just 64; my dad - just 28, and on and on. That fear and the realities of managing an illness, as so many in my family must do, are primary motivators for choosing differently. Sometimes I fear there will be a penance for my early years of excess. But my naturopath says if I'd done real damage, I'd likely know by now. Thank goodness for teenage resilience! When I see pictures of my younger self, cigarette in one hand, drink in another, I barely recognize myself and it feels like someone else's life. In a way, it was.

When this fear shows up, I aim first to forgive myself for those early years - not always easy... and trust I haven't yet activated anything undesirable, and remember that genetics aren't the be all, end all. And then I get this body moving. Evidence continues to support how much our diets and activities impact our overall health - even Alzheimer's is proving to be largely diet related. This gives me hope, as that's something I can manage, and that's a disease that's rampant, along with diabetes and heart disease, throughout my family. Research shows that even making small changes can make a big difference if you're not already doing those things that lead to optimal health.

So as I regularly chant, I'm thankful today and every day that lifestyle can, indeed, trump genetics. I can't slack off much. I'm committed to my own health and well-being, despite the challenges. I read today there's actually scientific proof that being thankful improves health, too. That's an easy one!

I hope you, too, have much to be thankful for, today, tomorrow and every day.

Winter tips for health and happiness

While the calendar still says fall, winter is settling in here in the Northwest. The days are shorter, the nights dark and long, and it's starting to get very cold by Northwest standards. Staying healthy and happy this time of year can get a little trickier as we all spend more time in closer indoor quarters. The weather, the light, and all that togetherness can affect us both physically and emotionally.

A murder of crows in a backyard tree

Since I'm often asked how I stay sane and sated, here's a look at my philosophy and a sample of my own practices for the long winter months.

Sustenance: Eat chocolate. I have a sliver of organic dark Theo chocolate every day, usually after dinner. I'm a firm believer that what we put in our bodies has an impact on how we view the world around us, and a little bit of chocolate makes me happy. By some standards, I may eat too much, but at about an ounce a day, I'm not going to worry about it. That said, I eat whole, fresh and largely organic foods and avoid most of the packaged stuff. I'm not afraid of butter, oils and cream, at least in smallish quantities. But too much sugar or fake food and I'm sluggish and depressed.

Hydration. Coffee with cream is a weakness, but I feel better if I drink more water each day. I don't buy bottled water; I've seen too much washed-up plastic on beaches and I don't trust the packagers to do any more than filter the tap, while fighting to privatize water when fresh clean stuff should be everyone's right. Filtered water from my own tap in a reusable bottle works just fine for me, or I'll make a pot of herbal tea when I need to warm up. If extra hydration is needed, coconut water offers up good nutritional value and electrolytes, and doesn't add unhealthy sugars.

Move more: While eating less and moving more is always a good idea, these are much harder for me this time of year, with moving more the hardest. A recently acquired FitBit has me tracking my steps, though, so I aim for no less than the requisite 10,000 a day to maintain some semblance of fitness. This may mean a walk at lunch, or, if I'm a few thousand steps short at the end of the day, running in place on my rebounder (the mini trampoline that lives in my dining room). I've yet to make the gym a habit but I intend to change that this winter. And when I need an inspirational lift, I plug in my Zune (yes, I'm one of the few who have one), and do some form of aerobic dance movements in my living room to old Motown. (Yes, I dance like no one's watching, and I really hope they aren't...)

Move less: Getting enough sleep is essential, and the amount needed varies by person. The suggested amount usually hovers at no less than 6 hours per person, and I am wont to get this. Yet, life looks so much rosier when I do so I continue to make the effort. Recent reports suggest it's OK to break it up into 3 or 4 hours here, another 3 or 4 hours there, with just a few hours in between. If only I had all those hours to make that work! When I boot the cat from the bedroom, I'm more likely to get my sleep. A soft heart and warm bed makes for sometimes sleepless nights.

Shilshole Marina before a storm

Get out: I'm less likely to venture out when I'm cold, especially once I'm tucked inside the house, comfortable and warm. And, I know that being in nature is good for my mental, emotional, physical and spiritual well-being, so out I go... not always, but sometimes. To the marina, the beach, around the neighborhood... When I'm at the beach, I'm always in awe when I remember there's an entire big city behind me, and all I can see is an expansive horizon. This feeds my spirit and opens my mind and heart. I'm especially fond of these places during winter months, and at night, when there aren't many people there.

Get social: At one time a full-on extrovert, I am adopting more introverted ways as I age, so I can be just as comfortable at home as in a social environment. But research shows that a solid social circle can extend life, and therefore, I suspect, it can figuratively shorten the winters. I am content with my own company and books, magazines, and the Intranet are my friends, yet I'll admit that nothing compares to shared experience with my partner or a sister, connecting minds and hearts, enjoying a laugh. So making the effort to socialize has multiple benefits.

Get inspired: As a kid, reading opened me up to whole new worlds, and while I spend far less time with books now, a good winter tale can make even the shortest day of the year seem ... well, too short. Who inspires you? What intrigues you? Reading about people and things can spark the imagination, replenish your soul, and fill a void with ideas and dreams. I have so many books waiting to be read that I can't begin to list them, but I'm sure there's one in every genre. Or close.

Find light: Long nights coupled with gray Northwest skies can get the better of me now and then. Full spectrum bulbs and regular Vitamin D3 supplements go a long way to brighter days. Most of us who live with limited natural light need to supplement; while Vitamin D3 really doesn't have side effects, it's still a good idea to have your blood levels checked first. And... as mentioned earlier, getting outside at any opportunity, even in low light, is better than not at all. I'll admit to a penchant for Christmas lights; my pagan heart likes the light and festivity and their cheerfulness make December much more bearable.  
And lastly, there's gratitude. I think that's how all my posts close these days. I have endless things to be grateful for, and when life looks gray and grim, well, I can remind myself of all that's good in my world, and almost everything gets easier.

I believe every one of these contribute to a healthy, vibrant immune system, as well as my overall happiness. I'll also give a shout-out to being germ friendly; our love affair with anti-bacterial everything does us more harm than good, And even when I couldn't afford it, I'd find a way for a semi-regular massage. I'm convinced it keeps me both sane and sated, in every way.  

Silencing the "haters" in my head...

I read that somewhere recently - not sure where now, but it struck a chord: "the haters" in my head. In coaching, sometimes we call these gremlins - those thoughts or beliefs we have that threaten to derail us. I've also heard "inner critic" and another new one, "inner mean girl." When these things come up, I've learned to wonder whose voice from my past I'm listening to. Because it's probably not my own - or at least, not originally. It's usually something I heard or interpreted, and then made it mine.

But calling them out as haters, it gives the gremlins, critics and mean girls a different spin - the old voices, those old stories or outdated beliefs. I can laugh when I call them haters because it sounds so ridiculous to me. Because it's what they are; they certainly aren't my best pals (while they may have been useful at one time or another) or my cheerleaders.

You know the ones I'm talking about: that niggling voice that says you're not quite good enough, not quite smart enough, not deserving enough, that doubt your ability to do something - or a version thereof. Most of us have at least one of these, or have experienced one at some point in our lives. My current hater tells me "I don't know how" and "it's too hard." Really? Put these two together and it sounds like nonsense. Anytime I'm learning something new, especially if it's outside of what's comfortable, I'm not going to know how and it might be a little hard. But it won't get any easier and I won't learn if I don't try and practice.

So while developing my coaching skills, I've undergone extensive coaching of my own by my peers and mentors. And while I long ago identified my driving haters in therapy - and learned to quiet them with love and compassion, I've been replacing them with more empowering versions - my own voice, my true story, my core beliefs, and mine alone. My goal? Unshakable confidence and to embrace learning in a new way. I don't think I'm afraid of failure, because even failure can be redefined. Learning opportunity, anyone? I think I'm afraid of looking stupid. Of being stupid. That's one of my driving haters. What if I'm stupid? I'm not.

I'm also redefining my relationship to change. Change now shows up in my life with ease and grace. I lived much of my life believing life was hard, but I know my perspective shaped my experience, and I collected plenty of evidence to support it. No longer. I anticipate much change in the coming few years (well, indefinitely, if I'm honest about it), and I welcome it.

I have dipped my toes more fully into my personal power and I'm owning my authentic self. The self that's dynamic and purposeful, super smart, adventurous, courageous, compassionate, playful and creative - and an advocate for my own personal truth. And I'm ready to support others in finding their own truths, who are ready to take that next step, and silence their own version of the haters. (And so much more.)

Every day, I dive a little more fully into the adventure and mystery of the great unknown. And I'm working on unshakable. Want to join me?

There but for the grace...

Why do we choose the paths we do?

My coworkers and I were chatting about the time before our current jobs. One of my coworkers had a decidedly "vanilla" upbringing; we noted that despite that (noting also our own interpretations of vanilla), she's not judgmental, and she's very curious, inclusive, well-adjusted and exceptionally likable.

Another had a straight and narrow Southern Baptist upbringing, which influenced his choices until early mid-life, when everything shifted. He came out, acquired an addiction and found himself living a wild life - a life no one expected given his character and background.

Until about 12, my earliest childhood years had shades of vanilla, at least from the outside looking in (inside, maybe not so much: I sometimes refer to my family as the "grim Swedes," for their stoic determination and head-in-the-sand approach to conflict or problems; a friend also coined my heritage as "JewLute" - Jewish and Lutheran ancestry resulting in a guilt double-whammy). We were white-bread working class - no major scandals, nothing too exciting, basic needs all met, pretty "ordinary" by conventional standards. I can't say there was a lot of love in the house, but there wasn't a lot of visible conflict, either.

But my coworker's story and that of another brought to mind my own tumultuous teen years, and I can't help but shout out, "there but for the grace..."

Somehow, I made different choices than those of my friends - choices I couldn't have imagined for myself as a teenager. For much of my teen years, I wasn't encouraged, I didn't have good role models - in life, work, or relationships, and I didn't have hope. My losses were already extensive and growing. Dreams and desires? My general take was, "Why bother... " I couldn't see beyond the scope of my immediate reality.

I lost my aunt - essentially my caretaker - at 8, an alcoholic who hid her bottles; my grandfather at 9, and my grandmother at 12. Mom worked, and was emotionally detached. So by the time I turned 13, there wasn't really anyone left for me to be accountable to. I felt angry, scared and alone.

Yet somehow... I made it through, made different choices, never quite stepped off that ledge. My best friend at 14, whose father was both violent and a pedophile, succumbed to endless abuse and addiction, and is now occasionally homeless. A later BFF - inseparable from about 16 - 20 - told me to stay out of her life; by then, she was moving quickly down the road of addiction and prostitution, from which she'd never escape. Countless others followed a path of abuse, addiction, alcoholism... leading to incarceration, dis-ease and dead ends, whether dead-end relationships, jobs... or an early death. Stanley said what many of us thought at the time, "Die young and leave a good looking body." He died at 19 of an overdose. Having no siblings and a mostly absent mother during those years, these kids were my family. And yet, while I was prone to self-abuse, I didn't go where they did. How? Did the stability of those earliest formative years, despite the many shortcomings, make a difference, and keep me just shy of self-destruction?

Conscious or not, we do choose. We make choices based on what's familiar, what's comfortable, and what we believe we deserve. If we believe at our core - largely unconscious until something triggers awareness - that what we deserve is abuse (or that people will leave us, not love us, not help us...), every choice we make will likely support more of the same. And those results can be subtle but profound at the same time.

Despite what I believed about myself, somehow, I got myself through high school, college, found decent jobs and eventually got married (not necessarily in A to Z order, and the marriage was short-lived). I was the first in my known family to go to college (on my dad's side, they were well-educated, but I didn't know them until my early 20s; my dad died at 28 just after I was born).

I did what I thought I was supposed to do based on what I saw "out there." I had so many life lessons to learn; my upbringing gave me street smarts but no practical life skills to thrive in the 'real world.' With no real guidance, I drew from an internal well of resources I didn't know I had, even though at my core, I had a lot of shame and didn't believe I deserved much.

Not any more. As an adult, I had some help along the way - therapists, coaches, friends, even a couple of teachers - but I give myself credit where credit's due. When I unearthed a knotted ball of shame residing deep within me, I saw how it kept me from living fully - and dreaming. And now, thanks to a lot of work and a vivid imagination, that little ball is a pile of ashes. Around that pile lives a fireball that drives me. A little flame was always there; I'm certain now that it kept me from jumping over the proverbial cliff into a place from which I, too, might never escape. I started dreaming again. And now I know I'm deserving of creating and achieving my dreams.

And yes, there but for the grace...

My mom always said I had a guardian angel. I suspect she was right. I'm pretty sure that internal fireball is connected to a universal life force, an energy, that connects us all and guides us, despite our own free will. Each of us has a purpose - whether or not we're ever conscious of what that is. We're here to learn, grow and make a difference - even if that difference is the impact we have on those around us, to help them also learn, grow and make a difference. Or just to have a better day. There but for the grace...

In a golden cage

White bird, just sits in her cage, growing old... white bird must fly, or she will die. 

I first heard White Bird when I was 10 or 11. I remember how old I was because we were all at my cousin's place for Easter, and my wheelchair-bound grandmother was there. My cousin was living (in sin, by some standards) with her boyfriend; his record collection was unlike any I'd ever seen and he had the stereo sound to go with it.

The sound on that system was crisp and clear with every vocal and violin intonation distinctly separate from the rest of the music. The song was an instant favorite for reasons that at the time would have been unclear. It was rare and unusual - and a little bit strange. Beautiful, yet somewhat disturbing, melancholy yet hopeful -visceral feelings not necessarily conscious. My friends didn't know it. It wasn't in regular radio rotation. So for years after that first moment, when I'd hear it on the local AM station, I'd tell myself it would be an unusually good day.

A couple years later, a handsome Vietnam vet moved in down the street. He'd stand in his doorway, dark eyes watching me pass, his bearded mouth drawing on a cigarette. When he invited me in to check out his record collection, I was smitten. He had a copy of It's a Beautiful Day, and a decent sounding stereo. It was on his porch I tried my first cigarette and experienced my first French kiss.

And still, the song stayed with me. I'm only just realizing this: those lyrics could have been prophetic for me.

While I was the apple of my grandfather's eye, I was a thorn in my grandmother's side. At least in our shared years together, she was mean, miserable and a martyr. She built her own impenetrable cage and grew old prematurely. My mother, absorbing my grandmother's guilt, created a cage of her own. She, too, grew old prematurely.

The leaves blow across the long black road, to the darkened sky in its rage. Both my grandmother and my mother were angry, unwitting victims, and my mother, so very alone. Now, I can't help but think of my mom when I hear that song. And still I tell myself it's going to be a good day.

My own cage began early, from my need for approval or staying invisible, to an over-the-top rebellion throughout my teens - an expression of a deep anger and shame I didn't understand. That early stereo was also my first introduction to Frank Zappa and Dinah-Moe Humm, which a few years later, could have been my anthem... Just get me wasted and you're halfway there; when my mind's messed up, my body don't care. 

But a perpetual need to not settle, to push, to somehow be different, kept me from ever locking that cage door. While the infrastructure was there - it was familiar and safe - I recognized it was a place I didn't want to be. It has taken ongoing courage, self-evaluation, painful experiences, conscious effort and shifting my beliefs about myself and what I'm worth. And, I believe, a lot of grace and gratitude. The skeleton remains as a reminder, but I have no desire to visit that place.

The song has recently reappeared as part of my interior sound track. As I dive deep into the coaching experience, I am acknowledging my own progress, and noticing how many of us create cages for ourselves that we're hard-pressed to escape. How many of us don't realize there's a way out, that the door isn't locked, or that we're really in charge of that lock? Cages can take many forms and shapes, and while, yes, we can be victimized, we largely create our own cages. Usually unconsciously. Mostly unwittingly.

We don't have to stay there. There's a way out. And it doesn't have to be hard.

The sunsets come, the sunsets go, the clouds pile high, the air moves slow. And the young bird's eyes do always know, she must fly, she must fly, she must fly. 

This song is still my queue to have "a beautiful day." Perhaps now for different reasons.

Full circle: Sustainable Ballard's 5th annual Edible Garden Tour

We were sitting in the backyard when a woman walked around the corner of the house. "Would you like to be part of Sustainable Ballard's Edible Garden Tour? Your garden is really inspiring."

And so it is we're once again on the Edible Garden Tour - five years after the first, which was our first as a community garden. A few things have changed. The gardeners, for one, although several of them remain our friends. My neighbor, Shiv, is the exception, although he's brought family members along to help.

And all that work we did in 2009? Well, I have news for you. We have some invasive grass that's beyond tenacious. The layers of impermeable paper and plastic, along with the foot or so of bark, were no match for the invasives. And we have no shortage of various types of nightshade, holly, ivy, and brambles - and who knows what else. Oh - and oregano, lilac, ocean spray and maple. Who knew these would spread the way they do???

But that said, it's all coming together again this year. Thanks largely to Ice Jackson, as the bluetooth in my car so designates him (he's my ICE - In Case of Emergency - contact). He's now back from seven months at sea, and the garden is grateful. As I am. I think both the garden and I have felt parched, and his return is like quenching a long-held thirst.

I like gardening. There's something very satisfying about pulling weeds and watching seeds grow into edible plants. But because this yard is so huge, and there are so many weeds, it's just too much on my own. He is so much more able than I am - so much stronger, and allergy-free. That combination makes the work go much faster, and the visual sense of accomplishment that much more rewarding. And while so much work is required to keep it up, this garden continues to be a very special place.

The garden tour is Saturday, June 29 (here's the event website with details). If you're reading this and in the 'hood that day, come on by. I suspect it'll be a bit of a party.

May 2013: Getting started

May 2009: Getting started

June 2009: Edible Garden Tour day

A truck-load of caged chickens... another reason to eat local and organic

I'd rather know the chicken and eggs I
eat aren't stuck in shoe-box sized
cages, their beaks cut off and then
pumped full of drugs. Give me
roaming chickens any day... 

Driving to work this morning, I passed a semi-truck with its entire cargo area loaded with cage after cage after cage of chickens. Small, barely-big-enough-for-the-bird cages. Open to the elements. My stomach did a little flip. A voice in my head said this isn't right...

I know some people see these chickens as just birds - they're food, and we're suppposed to have dominion over them - and that it doesn't matter. But not me. It feels cruel, unjust, inhumane. And it's unhealthy - for the bird and for us.

I know not everyone can afford to buy local and organic right now, and that's a big 'shoudn't be' in my mind. But I have to draw the line somewhere, and I just can't eat meat from animals raised this way. I don't need to visit the farm, like they did in an episode of Portlandia, but I want to trust my source. I'd rather eat vegetarian meals than contribute to a food system where animal conditions aren't considered. And I'm not a vegetarian. I enjoy eating meat and I believe my body functions better with at least some animal protein every week.

But watching my cat and other pets (birds included), and having spent time on a friend's farm, I can't believe for a minute that animals don't feel. In addition to being confined to cages with barely enough room to turn around, it's common practice in the commodity chicken market to remove their beaks, fill them with antibiotics and supply feed grown with various pesticides - among other heinous practices. 

A couple of good resources to learn more are Organic Consumers Association and the Environmental Working Group. And while I don't love the title of this one, here's another site that spells it out pretty clearly.

Sustainable and / or organic food could feed the world if big agriculture wasn't calling the shots in our political system. But they are, so the best thing we can do is vote with our purchases. And speak up and speak out when we can. While Scientific American suggests a hybrid approach, this article still states, "When farmers apply best management practices, organic systems, for example, perform relatively better."

Here are a few resources that support organic food production and illustrate why it's important - how it might just eradicate hunger and have a positive impact on our environment.
The Atlantic
PCC Natural Markets
WorldWatch Institute

I may be an enigma, but I'm healthy...

Now I have baffled both my physical therapist and my naturopath. But we're working through it. I am healthy, capable, and infinitely generative.

The physical therapist concluded my foot problems stemmed from weakening hips and glutes (I've mentioned I sit too much), and my calves are compensating, causing my Achilles to tighten in my feet, causing occasional shooting pains.

My naturopath concluded that my slightly-off-kilter liver enzymes, cholesterol, and thyroid just didn't add up, and we're going to retest in a few months. But her instinct tells her I'm healthy, and to watch and wait. There are no additional indicators suggesting that anything's wrong in any way.

I concur. My general feeling / instinct about both of these is that exercise, which I am only recently getting into a renewed rhythm with, will make a big difference if I can maintain consistency and proper form. And I will continue to refine how I eat, the products I use, and how I take care of my inner self (this inner part needs a bit more attention).

I am trusting that all is well, and that I do, indeed, still have work to do here. For that, I'm feeling pretty grateful. Perhaps this was just meant to be a call-out to take notice of where I'm putting my attention, that to create what I'm working toward I need to focus and be clear on my priorities.

And Forrest is back, after an entire seven months away with limited communication. Perhaps having him here, safe from so many unknowns in my imagination, will make a difference, too.

Nothing like a little health scare...

... to catch my attention. It might still be a scare. I don't know yet. When I got the results of my last blood test, I had a bit of a surprise.

Food yet to be.... I am also grateful
for my grandfather's garden as a child.
He taught me to love fresh vegetables.

I have exercised and eaten well for most of my life (although I cringe to think of the Vienna sausages, margarine, Crisco, nacho cheese Doritos, Top Ramen and fast-food burgers of my early years). I made a big change in my mid-20s, though, when I made the connection between food and health. So whether by design or by luck, I've stayed pretty healthy and at a good-for-me weight. And at mid-life, that's no small feat, really, especially given my family genetics. But my recent blood work showed slightly high cholesterol (the kind that isn't supposed to be high) and elevated liver enzymes.

I think I know why my cholesterol is high. I'm barely moving. I sit all day at work. I haven't exercised - much - over the last two years or so. The first year due to... well, not sure why; the last, due to injury from trying to do too much too soon. I've gained some weight. I'm sluggish.

The liver enzymes sent me spinning. With any luck, the high numbers are a fluke and related to the two glasses of wine I'd had the Saturday night before my Thursday morning blood draw. Since I so rarely drink now, the guy at the supplement store said it's possible. Still, I couldn't help but flash back to all the years I over-consumed: the self-abusive teen years, the early 20s backslide, the early 30s divorce, a couple of single years, and then trying to keep up with my hard-drinking social circle until about 40, when I finally had enough. Chances are, any damage from those years would have shown up sooner (thank god for teenage resilience), so right now I'm just counting my blessings and trusting that maybe I have a higher purpose and that all will be well.

What this did, though, was got me moving again, in a much bigger, consistent way. As I've mentioned in previous posts, I've exercised since my late teens (despite countless bad habits to counter-weight the benefit in those earlier years), but stopped running - my exercise of choice since anxiety kicked in at 32 - in late December, 2009, when I lost my resistance to cold temperatures and couldn't make myself leave the house for much of anything but work. I did, however, continue to go to the climbing gym pretty regularly til June, 2012. Good for strength and balance, but not for maintaining general fitness or keeping off the weight from a mostly sedentary lifestyle. In 2010, 2011 and the beginning of 2012, I dabbled in exercise doing things like Zumba, marina walks, and 'dancing' in my living room aerobic-style to Motown, alt rock, post-punk and some 70's classics (I sure hope nobody can see through my curtains) - but nothing consistent to maintain an acceptable level of fitness.

In June 2012, I decided to start running again - slowly, just a run / walk routine. But I quickly added in some stair climbing from the beach to upper Golden Gardens park, and damned if it wasn't too much too soon. An injury sidelined me. Despite joining a gym in November, it's been nearly a year since I've done any kind of consistent exercise.

Now I'm in physical therapy for what I thought was plantar fasciitis but appears to be more hip and glute related due to sitting too much. My calves are insanely tight, and my poor feet aren't able to handle the burden. I am now on a regimen back to health: a run / walk program, heinous glute strengthening exercises called 'fire hydrants', and a variety of other stretches and toning exercises. It seems to be helping - my body feels better and I have more energy, but the real test will be the next blood draw. I don't have the genes to be a slacker. I just don't and I know this.

I do have other things in my favor. When I read about liver health, I give myself points for these:

Black beans, brown rice, avocado
and a dollop of sour cream (all
organic) - a typical weeknight dinner.

• My daily diet is better than most. I love kefir and yogurt, I've always loved vegetables, and I don't eat a ton of fruit or meat - and when I do, it's likely organic and, in the case of meat, grass-fed. My morning cereal is gluten free and my naturopath says the amount of soy I use in tea and over cereal is nothing to worry about. Black beans are a favorite, and I've given up white rice for brown. I don't eat junk food, or rarely, and nothing with high fructose corn syrup goes in my body. Ever. I am a label reader. And I avoid aspartame and sugar and white flour and rice (mostly - sushi being an exception, although I prefer sashimi), and attempt to be GMO-free. I admit I indulge in Theo organic dark chocolate every single day, and I do like tea and coffee for their caffeinated impact. I've started making a green juice every few days. And I finally found a Kombucha I like (GT's raw, organic gingerade - yum!). 
• My supplements are the result of previous blood draws - I take only what my blood work shows I need - D3, DHEA, cod liver oil, cal/mag and a thyroid boost. And the only drugs I take are allergy meds.
• Most of my personal products are nearly toxin-free, with organic ingredients when they're available. I use soaps, shampoos, cosmetics (except mascara), lotions, potions and household cleaners and detergents that are free of the most egregious additives. I do get my hair colored. I'm not a complete purist; I'm not interested in looking my age (although my "real age" according to my biometrics is 38 - that I can live with!) and I want to always look my best. But I also want to age well and stay healthy.

So the piece that's missing was vigorous exercise and while I'm not there yet, I'm getting there. I have left my personal little pity party that kicked in with the injury behind and I'm about six weeks into my new plan and so far, so good.

Now I'm crossing my fingers, saying a few prayers and asking for grace that my next blood tests come back within normal range. My mantra: I'm healthy in every way. I'll keep you posted.

Do ethics matter? What about our gaps?

On Monday, we had a speaker on campus to talk with us about ethics at work - oh so important in a work environment and in mine, perhaps more so than some. But what fascinated me was how he opened the conversation by asking us about our personal values. A few key points stood out and I thought I'd share - because it became very clear that it's from our values that our personal and work ethics stem.

Shades of blue and gray: Oregon coast south of
Cannon Beach (April 2013)

Gaps and gray areas

Our speaker, Bill Grace, who founded the Center for Ethical Leadership, noted when he asked us about our values that no matter how saintly we consider ourselves (or not), we all have gaps. All of us. And there are many shades of gray. He also acknowledged that most of us want to close those gaps once we know they exist - but it's the knowing part that's sometimes the hardest. Most of us have a pretty strong sense of what's wrong or right, yet those the gaps can be hard to see because, like it or not, we have our biases based on our backgrounds, experiences, knowledge, and our own moral compass.

One way Bill suggested we assess where we are is to look at our calendars and our checkbooks. Does how we spend our time (and I have to add, who we spend it with...), or how we spend our money, line up with what we say we value? That's a useful benchmark. I know I'm not there yet. At least in a few areas there's room for improvement (ahem... shop therapy, anyone?).

Shared experience

He also explained that we - the collective we - share at least a handful of personal values. His experience shows that, whether in a room of 80 or 8000 people, at least one out of eight common values are shared, with love, family and integrity the top three. He did an exercise to demonstrate this, and our group of 150 shared at least one in seven. Of those three, my top value is integrity - in a sense, an umbrella value for me under which things like honesty, doing what you say you're going to do (or clean it up) and acting ethically fall under.

A particularly fascinating reminder was about the Pledge of Allegiance, something I haven't thought about for a very long time, but it's pertinent given the gay marriage legislation being considered in states around the country. Written in 1892, the closing line reads, "and liberty and justice for all." (By the way, for those of you who don't know, "under God" was added to the pledge in the 1950s). But in 1892, there were many gaps in terms of who 'all' included. Women didn't yet have the vote. It wasn't until the 1960s that the Civil Rights Act was passed. And today, civil liberties are still unavailable to certain segments of the population - and dare I say it, some could be considered threatened.

Doing the right thing

Distinctions in leadership were made: Are you a transactional or a transformational leader? Both are acceptable forms of leadership and have value. But transactional leadership is about doing things the right way, whereas transformational leadership is doing the right thing, even if it isn't the popular thing. Bill challenged us to "stay in deep water and work to resolve" the things that are important - and to do the right thing, even if it isn't the easy answer.

Lastly, we talked about ethical dilemmas and how important it is to remember there's a human being at the other end of a decision. As author Stephen Covey suggests, look for the win-win. Don't necessarily choose justice over mercy, or vice versa, just because a policy dictates something. Policies and laws aren't always right, and as mentioned, there are many gray areas. Instead, what if there's a third possible option that's both just and merciful?

So just what is ethics? 

Our ethics are derived from what we value. It's doing the right thing. Your heart or your gut (whichever one you listen to) usually knows what that is. In coaching, one of the first things we look at when checking in with ourselves or working with a client is what we most value. It's in part how we measure progress. How do these things we say are so important actually line up with what we do?

Celebrating older women

I heard a story on our local NPR station recently that piqued my curiosity enough to explore further. New York photographer Ari Cohen has made it his mission to photograph style mavens over 60 on the streets of New York. Despite their advancing age (many are in their 80s and 90s), they're still very much embracing and celebrating life and themselves, and living out loud with what they wear.

Check it out here.

As a young girl, I was surrounded by interesting older women. Friends of my grandmother - Mary Swift and Mary McKagen (grandmother of Duff) - were stylish, creative, talented, outspoken, and both very prominent figures in my life at different times. A pale yellow skirt made from fine wool with exquisite detailing by Mrs. Swift was my introduction to couture at a very young age. Ms. McKagen's sense of humor stayed with her 'til her final days and my visits with her are unforgettable.

There was Hazel Schultz, a friend of my father who kept his memory alive for me. She was a hat model in the 1920s. The afternoon we spent in her attic opening hat box after hat box was my version of heaven at that moment. Already a hat collector, she sent me home with a couple dozen ranging from 1940s military style, 1950s pillboxes to 1960s mod and so many more. The stories behind those hats! If only I'd written them down...

My neighbors Mrs. Bean, Dorothy, Old Mrs. Wurm and the spinster Miss G (whose German last name was hard to pronounce) each had their own special style and made their contributions to the world and my life. I'm also lucky enough to have hats from each of them except Miss G, who insisted on wearing scarves to cover her thinning hair (one of those many things we potentially have to look forward to...).

My great aunt Vernis was my own Auntie Mame. Her laughter and zest for life were contagious, and she always maintained a positive outlook. When her second husband died after a long illness, she reconnected with her first husband who was still wildly in love with her. They remarried, and spent much of their final years together boating in the San Juan Islands. She drove a Cadillac, wore bright colors, always had her hair done, and never left the house without makeup. With no children of her own, she indulged me in meaningful ways. It was from her that I developed my love for vintage clothes, hats, gloves and handbags, playing dress-up with her lovely castoffs. She was a rare gift - so different than the others in my family.

These are just a few who have inspired me and who I could aspire to be like as I age.

I love it when stereotypes are smashed and cultural myths about aging defied. This becomes more important to me as I age and contemplate what aging means to me. One day I will be considered 'old' by societal standards. What does that look like? I certainly don't want to feel old. And I don't want my style to be dictated by my age - how I dress, the length of my skirt or how I wear my hair. And I really don't want collective expectations to hinder my ability to live as loudly and fully as possible.

What concepts about aging do you want to break?

By the way, I'm excited to note there's an Advanced Style documentary film in the works to be released sometime this year. I don't know any more details but if I hear of any, I'll post them here.

Managing expectations, dealing with disappointment... and the stories they trigger

I should be on a plane to Singapore on Friday. A relatively short trip - just over a week, but an opportunity to see Forrest after six months apart and explore an intriguing destination together - a place I've read about, heard about, thought about, and wanted to visit for a long time. Ideally, a longer trip would encompass travel to other destinations in the area: various parts of Thailand, Vietnam, Bali, Kuala Lumpur... to name just a few. But I was so looking forward to this trip, regardless. To seeing Forrest, to going somewhere I've never been, to vacation time, to play time, hanging out, laughing... something I'm currently in need of.

I bought my ticket on April 1. I waited until Forrest confirmed the ship he's on would be in port on the scheduled dates with no change in plans. But still it wasn't meant to be - the shipping line decided last minute on a cost saving measure, anchoring in international waters with no 'launch' service - meaning the crew can't go ashore. I cancelled my flight on April 9. I don't think I have words that are any better than his, so you can read his blog post here.

This was quite a letdown - one of many since his flight left Seattle October 17, albeit the biggest. Our communication options have been terrible - before he signed on, we thought "modern shipping line - no problem." We expected we'd have internet, Skype, email... Instead, we've had horrible satellite phone conversations - bad connections, delays, disconnections... And email is sent and received from the ship once a day to his crew email address. When he's in port, he has SIM cards that allow him to make and receive calls from his cell phone, and gives him internet access - when they work. We thought we'd be able to meet in a port or two - we planned to meet in Savannah in December before he started his second Atlantic crossing to Gibraltar and points beyond. But the ship's schedule changed.

This last disappointment triggered a lot of old stories and beliefs about my self worth, what I can have, what I deserve, whether my life matters or works, and if I should even be here (I'm really not being dramatic - I grew up with this crap in the recesses of my brain... and there's a bit more to this story: I have guidebook after guidebook of places I've planned to visit and have only managed to get to a minute few over a vast number of years). It feels unfair.

These are all interesting things to notice. The stories don't run me anymore, and they rarely even make an appearance. And when they do, they don't stay very long. Awareness is key. I now know these are stories that were developed from events, experiences, and other people's perspectives - and they aren't true. But they were part of my inner dialogue for so long that at low points, when I'm least prepared, they come back in a flash and nearly blindside me.

What shifts me away and into a better place? After awareness comes acceptance and compassion. Seriously, compassion for myself had to be one of the hardest things I've had to learn, but the choice is really simple. Now that I can see the difference, it's really the only choice.

Because I know the old stories aren't true and I can put perspective around the feelings, I can more quickly see beyond my immediate sadness and disappointment. Practicing compassion helps me move toward self empowerment. Forrest will be home in just over five weeks. One day, I will make travel happen and I will go to the places I've dreamed about for so long because I know how to do things differently now and make different choices (I did actually buy this ticket, didn't I? That's a step closer!). Together, Forrest and I have been laying a foundation to create these opportunities, and this is merely a minor setback. Really.

This too shall pass. And as I have been reminded, all things do seem to happen for a reason and at some point, that reason will likely be apparent. I'll stay open and see what shows up.

Meanwhile, I'm hitting my reset button and giving myself plenty of room. At the beach.


Update 4/12/13: While not particularly relevant, it did make me laugh about 'being triggered.'

Sedona: A visit to Inspirational Drive

People flock to Sedona for inspiration, healing, connection, and so much more. Sedona is indeed inspiring, but I only learned after returning to Seattle that the house where I stayed was on Inspirational Drive. How appropriate is that?

Being home and back at work after only a few days there feels a little surreal. It's a bit like transporting myself out of this realm and into another. Everything you've ever heard about Sedona and its beauty or other-worldliness is true. And my perspective feels forever slightly shifted.

Just do it...

My intent was solely to visit and catch up with a friend of 20+ years who moved to Sedona from Vancouver, BC about five years ago. We met at work shortly after we'd both relocated from the US, newly married, and our status immediately connected us. While we've stayed in touch via phone, Facebook, email and text, our last in-person visit was three or so years ago when she moved her personal possessions from the chilly damp air of Vancouver to the radiant dry heat of Sedona.

She came through Seattle with a U-Haul filled with the contents of her storage space, not quite certain of her decision to move. I get that; it was hard for me to come back to Seattle, despite having grown up here. Sedona's small and the landscape entirely different, and it's a plane ride instead of a short drive away from everything familiar. But her family - daughter, mother, brother and sister had all moved here, in that order, and she wanted to be close to them.

I have missed our personal connection, so a visit has been on my radar for a while now. But it was never the right time. So early this year, I determined it was now or never and to just. set. a. date. Time and resources finally aligned, or maybe it was meant to be.

The nature of things

They say everything for a reason, yes? This is even more pronounced in Sedona, so apparently it was no accident that I landed here now. I am transitioning into my role as coach, claiming my life journey as valuable, stepping into my natural gifts, and open to so much more. And more is what I got. Here's a sampling of who I met, where I went, what I saw and what I learned about:

• Lightworkers, healers and shamans (oh my)
• Art, nature and unrivaled beauty
• Organic, vegan, green and raw
• Sacred space, mystery and majesty
• Chakras and the divine feminine
• Natural spring and kangen water
• Ascendant masters, spirit guides, and visiting Pleiades
• Higher vibrations, energy and sunshine 
• Yoga, rebounding and hiking
• Smudging, altars, gemstones and crystals
• Stars - a brilliant, beautiful star-filled sky
• Wonder, awe, and ... peace 

Sedona is physically, culturally and spiritually rich. While it's a relatively young city (1902), its rock / sand formations have been millions of years in the making and it's renowned the world over (perhaps universes and/ or galaxies, too?) for its vortexes and the profound energy found there as a result. UFO sightings are common. Some call it a "spiritual Disneyland." And some of the Native American cultures believe the land is sacred and shouldn't have been built on at all. True or not, Sedona does a decent job of ensuring its design laws honor the landscape in texture, color and feel. And it's not hard to summon images of rugged pioneers seeking their fortunes amidst the iron-laden soils of this wild west outpost.

One thing I was surprised by, however - given Sedona's beauty and their apparent commitment to keeping it that way - was the seemingly limited recycling / compost options. I'm curious and would like to learn more about what they're doing, or not doing - and if not, why not. I would think, given the level of earth and general environmental consciousness there, that options for both would be everywhere. If Seattle can have compost and recycling bins in their shopping malls, well, anything seems possible.

Connection

After a shuttle from Phoenix, I met Lori at the gallery where she works in Tlaquepaque, an art center in the center of the city, arriving in the middle of a new show opening. My favorite piece by the featured artist was called "Lightness of Being." Lightness of being has been an area of focus for me for the last couple years - reclaiming that feeling of lightness I recall from my unencumbered youth (usually noticed when I skipped school on a sunny spring day, but that's another story; I remember the feeling and want it back).

Lori at Thunder Mountain

Earth Wisdom Tours

Of this earth... or not

Hiking at Thunder Mountain followed the next morning, and we scored an Earth Wisdom jeep tour with Lori's brother that afternoon at no charge due to a cancellation. Earth Wisdom holds the only tour permit to access key locations that are otherwise inaccessible except privately with the right vehicle. Our fabulous dinner at Elote Cafe featured a tableside "hello" from its renowned chef.

Sunday coffee came with introductions to wisdom seekers, embodiments of spiritual masters, and shamans. And really good coffee. Shopping with Lori's daughter and granddaughter followed, and the weather turned overcast. We spent the last daylight hours at Cathedral Rock, a spectacular red outcrop, and one of four main vortexes. Back on Inspirational Drive, we watched a video about tapping into your own psychic abilities and Lori prepared a delicious, healthy meal. She later offered a card reading, and I gratefully accepted. She's a gifted reader, and I have new information to work with, and more tools to explore.

A Monday morning visit to Lori's daughter's place gave me insight into new technology that I don't have the words or understanding to explain. But I purchased a Level II pendant that is purported to increase my energy and/or vibrations. I will learn more and share later (I still need to read through this). But it's fascinating work, and I am happy there are people doing what they're doing. Our planet needs this. But it's even bigger than that. And again, I have no words. Yet. I didn't know it then but it's exactly what I wanted.

The shuttle back to Phoenix was as uninspiring as Sedona was inspiring, and it felt like a long journey back. The 'green' juice Lori made me for breakfast, however, suggested it might be time for an overall detox. It's rare that I'm happy to spend more than a couple hours at an airport, but in this case, I didn't mind. And it gave me time to reflect.

Grace

I entered this weekend with no expectations, no set plans, and a willingness to just be present and see what showed up. Grace, love and opportunity showed up for me, and I am again counting blessings. Lori and I have an ongoing friendship of give and take, sharing, supporting and helping each other, and this was evident throughout the weekend. I love what my friend is up to, and I think she feels the same about me. Inspirational, indeed.

Feet to the fire: Time to get moving again

I have now publicly committed to being a LifeWise of Washington ambassador with a promise to help model the way - with 29 other ambassadors, all at various fitness and activity levels - to a healthy lifestyle.

I stopped running for the most part in December of '09 when the temperatures hit freezing and I got too cold. And for whatever reason, I never got back into it with any consistency. I sit at my desk for work all day every day, and often go home at night and sit and do more computer-related tasks.

While I have made fitness a big part of my adult life, I've had a hard time getting going again. Up until last June, I was still going to the climbing gym (about twice a week), but other than the occasional walk, I wasn't doing much else between that December and spring, 2012.

So I got moving around Easter last year with Zumba, a little running, more walking and some Golden Gardens stairclimbing, only to end up on the sidelines by mid-summer with plantar fasciitis. Tight calves, hamstrings and hip flexors, as well as hips that could use more strength, all contributed. I've always stretched a lot when I'm exercising, but I really suck at it when I'm not. And I never developed a love affair with yoga. My lack of flexibility makes it frustrating and uncomfortable.

I think being part of this program will help get me back on track - keeping me focused on my goals and reminding me to at least do something. Even if that something is soaking and massaging my feet every night, and maybe just a few good stretches. Oh, and maybe a few pushups, a pull-up or two, and a little bit of core work. I can do this! Everything I do with a focus on healing will contribute to getting me back up and literally running again. Which is what I want. Really I do. So why is it so hard?

I am so ready for a physical outlet - I feel better physically, emotionally, mentally, and spiritually when I am moving, particularly when I'm outdoors. And I believe it absolutely when I say that we're really all we have, and we are our own health plans. Whether or not we have insurance. Sure, stuff can happen no matter what - I certainly don't mean to imply that it can't, but we at least have some control around managing our health, and I'd rather be proactive than just wait-and-see. My health isn't something I want to leave to chance.

So here's the blog post I wrote for LifeWise, which puts my intention out there for everyone to see.

Of cats and kids, and big decisions

Nightmare, or in this pic,
Kitty Dirty Paws

I don't have children - this is largely intentional. I'm not convinced I'd have been a good parent, given my own troubled youth and lack of good parenting models, nor did the option ever really present itself. I honestly can't remember if I wanted to have children. And my clock just didn't tick.

Many women grow up with this path in mind, and if not in mind, certainly in body. They know this is their destiny, and their bodies (or circumstances) tell them when it's time. Other than Barbie and a baby doll when I was very small, I don't remember even playing with dolls. I preferred my Matchbox cars, Tonka truck and a few stuffed animals. Barbie didn't have kids... she was all style and no substance - well, and maybe relationships. There was Ken, after all, and the other 'adult' dolls - and whatever personalities I assigned them from the recesses of my imagination. OK - so that's a stretch... It was all about the clothes. And the shoes. Oh, and the corvette... and so on.  So no, no dolls, and no kids. I don't think playing with dolls is an actual indicator, but my guess would be that it's a clue. 

At some point, I consciously decided I would not have children. I don't remember when. I know I was adamant about this by my mid-30s, but I'm sure I was somewhat cognizant of this much earlier. I don't have regrets. As I age, I sometimes engage in self-doubt and ask myself if I did the right thing, and the answer is always the same - it was the right choice for me. Thankfully, there is no longer a stigma around being childless, and I now have many friends, older and younger, who are also intentionally without children.

All that said, as Forrest's mom OKay pointed out, I am very nurturing. Until recently we had three cats - essentially my fur kids. I am connected to these little creatures in ways I wouldn't have imagined. We lost Motormouth to renal failure on Christmas eve, 2010, and Photon to lymphoma the following September. Nightmare, initially my mom's cat, is still with us, and at 14, pretty spry. And last week he was diagnosed with early stage renal failure. While I am told not to panic, I'm a little panicky and pretty heartbroken.

My little white furball still looks and acts like a sprout - he is playful, feisty, curious, active, eats well... and recently started drinking a lot of water. I didn't pick up on it initially, but it finally clicked that he was drinking more than normal, and by that point, for a couple of months. So I scheduled the vet appointment, hoping for an all's well call.

But instead the next day's call made my heart sink. Now, after several calls and email messages, a lot of my own research, and email messages to pet food companies and pet websites, I am feeling more hopeful. Cats can live a long time with proper care, even with failing kidneys.

Proper care, in my mind, is a blend of vet recommendations, what I learn from my own exploration, and gut instinct. For example, I'm not very interested in feeding my cat, who gets pretty decent grain-free food, a prescription diet from one of the major pet food companies. I feel about them the way I do about big agriculture and food producers. I will explore how to balance his protein needs with the right types of food, and supplement with vitamins and Chinese herbs. Acupuncture is another option, but I'm concerned that the trip in the car, unfamiliar surroundings, and new people would be more stressful and negate any benefit. Managing kitty stress is also part of the care plan. We'll see. Maybe they make home visits?

It's interesting to ponder end-of-life decisions. We do this for our pets, but only in a few states can we (legally) make choices for ourselves. We're not yet near this time for Nightmare, but the news brought it to mind. Quality of life is essential. My neighbor, just a few years shy of 100, was ready to go for a while before it was finally her turn. She was tired. And done. She had experienced all of life, her friends and family were gone, and her mobility was compromised. And my friend Stacey, at 49, left two young boys behind with no plan because it didn't occur to her or anyone else that she might die so young. Her brother had to make a choice when his options were limited. It begs the question: Are you ready? Just in case?

I don't look forward to making choices like these - for Nightmare or anyone. But if his quality of life ebbs to the point of pain and suffering, I will carefully calculate our options. Motormouth's last few days will stay with me for a long time to come. I don't think living beings should expect any less than dignity, comfort, peace and love when that time comes.

Many of us are able to choose whether or not to have children. What would it be like if we could choose how or when we die? We have a family joke about going out for that "last cup of tea" when we've outlived our usefullness. What if that were really possible? It's for the living we grieve, yes?

Finding wellness in Vancouver

This year marked the 21st year of The Wellness Show in Vancouver, BC. For the third year in a row, I've made the trip north to see a friend who manages the cooking stage, and find out what's new in the world of wellness. It's hard to believe it was 20 years ago I worked on the show's marketing copy, and the changes I've experienced over those two decades.

My wellness journey started in my mid-20s when I came to the realization that lifestyle trumps genetics. I made significant changes that I've built on and refined ever since. From fitness to food, it all matters. We are our own best health plan. Information changes over time with more research and experimentation, though, so gut sense - literal and figurative - plays a part. Events like The Wellness Show help educate a general audience, introduce new products, pathways and techniques to the tried and true, and remind us that there are no shortcuts to health, much as we'd like them. 


The antitheses to healthy eating: Leaving the convention center on Sunday,
I walked by this food truck. I noticed their restaurant on Robson Street
while up for the show last year. Hardly a health food, I couldn't resist
the photo. It's a food trend I just don't understand.
And I hear they're everywhere!

While I didn't attend any of the workshops or seminars, I learned a lot just walking the aisles and talking with vendors. A few of the key things I learned or noticed this year:

• Coconut is everywhere - from crunchy chips to organic milk, to face creams and good-for-you candy bars. It's the latest trend and while I have been a coconut fan for years (I both cook with and use the oil on my skin as a night cream, add flakes to my breakfast cereal, and I adore coconut curries - and dare I say it? As a kid, I loved Almond Joy candy bars and just about anything coconut...), I worry about resource depletion once something finds its way into our obsessive culture.
• "Raw" chocolate bars are chalky and bitter and not yet worth the cost.
• Nordic Naturals fish oil is an easy access product that I can feel good about buying. However, a wallet-sized card I picked up lets me know which fish are the most contaminated and over-fished. It leaves just a small list of what I can feel good about eating.
• Nature's Path rocks my world. I love their products. They sponsor the show and promise not to sell out to a major corporation like so many other good brands.
• Natural cosmetics are improving. Except mascara (for me). And if you're in the northwest and local is your thing, Lavera and Benecos are based in Kirkland. And for those who have more luck than I do with products, Lavera mascara is apparently rated the best in the natural cosmetics world. 
• Coffee with mushrooms tastes fine, but I didn't notice a kick. Tea is a burgeoning health trend.
• For the lactose intolerant, naturally aged cheese is your friend. A raw milk cheese vendor explained that cheese aged over time loses its lactose, but most cheese bought in supermarkets is quickly processed. 
• Pets need healthy products, too, and there's no shortage. From wet and dry food to natural supplements, it's available. Grain-free for cats is the way to go (I didn't ask about dogs). 
• I'm not crazy about what's traditionally considered "health food." And I'm never going to be vegan. The vegan cheezcake just didn't do it for me.
• Common Ground magazine is still publishing and this makes me happy. They do a great job of educating their readers about issues of significant importance be they global, national, regional or hyper local.
• Wellness is a body, mind, spirit experience. There is no separation. And there are myriad ways to nurture and satisfy all three.
• Wellness skews female. And most of us want to look young and healthy as long as we can. 

Held at the Vancouver Convention Center on Vancouver's downtown waterfront, even the location says wellness. Across the inlet are the North Shore mountains, what seem like just a hop and a skip away. The Grouse Grind, three ski hills and endless hiking trails await anyone who's fit and ready - no matter the season. And the 1,000 acre Stanley Park is just a few blocks away, with hiking trails throughout and a seawall / cycling / walking path that rings the park.

While I was well on my way to wellness prior to moving to Vancouver, it was during my years there that I notched it up a number of rungs. I fell in love with hiking, sailing, running, and healthy food, and it was living in this clean, coastal city that changed my awareness about environmental practices and living lightly on the planet. Living with a vegetarian (who managed her MS in large part through diet), seeing a naturopath, and starting a regular massage regimen all shifted my perspective about managing my own health.

I wouldn't want to live there again, but it's sure nice to visit. I'm grateful for the friends, the experience, and the greater good that came from it.

Oh - and floating is back! The Float House is opening in April in Vancouver, and a search turned up several float locations in the Vancouver / Seattle / Pacific Northwest region. Long since closed, the Float Zone on Vancouver's 1st Street was a favorite, followed by a tank at Ballard Massage in Seattle, decommissioned years ago. Unless you're claustrophobic, you really must try it sometime - there's nothing like complete sensory deprivation (I'll take mine without music, thanks) for complete relaxation. This may be as close as you'll get to floating on a cloud.