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