​How to share resources and
care for each other
 
 
 
 
How to trust the cycle of life

​

Skunk cabbage pushes its purpley folded leaves up through the earth
Peepers awaken the ponds
White snowdrops are blooming!
 
 Life goes on here

​

​The whole forest is singing!
 
Step in.
 

Pelicans.
 Have you seen one?
These prehistoric- looking seabirds populate the island. 

I know I’ve arrived when I see a pod flying overhead.
It’s quite a sight. I usually notice their shadows on the sand first. Looking up, there they are, twenty or more,
lying in their classic V formation.  

Why do they fly this way?

“During flight, an updraft is created by
the upstroke of one bird’s wing and
the following bird can take advantage of this wingtip vortex
to save a significant amount of energy.”
(Bay Nature Magazine, April-June 2012, by Michael Ellis)

Smart birds.

I wonder where they’re going so I decide to follow along.
The day is blustery.
A strong northwest breeze chills the air.
Since they fly faster than I walk, I soon lose sight of them.
I continue walking in the direction of the Inlet,
hoping it will offer some protection from this strong breeze.

As I near the rock jetty, I don’t see the pelicans anywhere.
In fact, I don’t see a single seabird.
Where did they go?

I walk along the top of the jetty, the ocean to my right,
the inland waterway to my left.
Surf churns and crashes onto the rocks,
spraying into the air in geyser- like fashion.

Wow. Water power is real.

The jetty leads to a sandy path bordered
by hibiscus and seagrapes.
I follow it to the Inlet Beach.

Looks who’s here! 

Pelicans and...Seagulls, Herons, Egrets, Cormorants
and a few birds I don’t recognize…..
all perched on the rocks, out of the wind,
​basking in the sun, enjoying themselves.
​

​For Love Of The Sea
 
Today, I’d like to write about seashells. I’m fascinated by them.
They are the sculptures of the beach, art forms
casually washed up on shore each time the tide rolls in.
 
Treasures of the sea.
For free! Imagine that!
Finding treasures for free!
 
Beach-combing, as shell collecting is sometimes called, is one of my favorite hobbies.
I’m not entirely sure why I love collecting shells so much.
 
I do know it’s the process I love.
 
Walking barefoot on the sand, my eyes on the beach,
the pleasure of finding a gem shining brightly.
 
I stop, pick it up, feel it and notice its striking beauty, its shape and colors, its contours and size.
I then decide to place it carefully in my bag or gently return it to the spot where I found it.
 
Usually, I keep almost every shell I find!
 
They’re so many shells on this little island, plenty for everyone.
​I love that.
 
They all have stories to share.
 
Where did they begin their ocean journey?
Who inhabited these lovely little houses, now empty on the beach?

​​I’ve been walking this same Florida beach for over 50 years.
Every year I find new shells.
 
This year we had some powerful surf for a few days which brought piles of shells!
A beachcombers paradise!
 
I collected so many shells I couldn’t fit them all in my suitcase!
Oh it was so hard to choose which ones to keep.
​I love them all.

​The waves also washed up an abundance of plastic on the beach this year.
 
Plastic bottles, forks, containers, tiny bits of colored plastic, plastic shoes….

​A high heeled shoe? Really?

​There are locals who walk the beach twice a day and pick up trash.
Bless them.

I gratefully joined their efforts.
One walk would be a trash collecting walk,
another would be a shell collecting walk.

I chose to keep them separate.
 
Recycling is big here.
Beach cleanup days are scheduled regularly and lots of people show up.
They’re taking responsibility for all of us.
 
Now we need to take more action and reduce our use of plastic.
 
The less we buy, the less of a chance it has to end up on the beach
or in the bellies of our precious ocean friends.
 
Because, it seems that no matter where it starts, most of our garbage ends up in the sea.
 
An estimated 14 billion pounds of trash, most of it plastic,
is dumped into the ocean every year. (seastewards.org)
 
I realize that reducing our use of plastic is more easily said than done.
Plastic is everywhere.
 
We can take a step.
Any step will make a difference.

Here are a few ways to begin:
*Eliminate the use of plastic water bottles
*Use reusable grocery bags
*Shop at farmer’s markets as often as possible
*Purchase reusable mesh produce bags
 
Reduce, reuse, recycle
 
I realize that collecting shells brings me into closer relationship
with the mystery and beauty of the sea.
 
All those who create beauty
deserve our respect and protection.

It has been said:

“When you find your breath, you find your teacher”
(unknown)

What is the color of September?
 
I say gold.

I say the color of goldenrod and marigolds, afternoon sunlight
​ and the gentle touch of yellow on maple leaves.
 
It’s the afternoon of summer, the turning of the seasons.
 
Endings and beginnings…
 
Letting go, making room for something new…
 
How does a leaf know when to change color?
How do the raptors know exactly when to head south?
How do the monarch butterflies know when to hatch?
 

They seem highly attuned to the slightest change in temperature,
light, sound and scent. Clearly, they’re guided by an inner knowing.
 
It’s afternoon as I write. A catbird calls from a nearby branch and receives a distant reply. A rabbit quietly munches greens at the edge of the yard. Crickets are beginning to chirp. The sun is already dropping below the trees, casting a golden glow across the yard.
 
“The lighting is beautiful right now,” says my 19 year-old-son Noah
​ as he walks by, journal in hand.

He’ll be going back to college soon. He’s recently discovered that journaling can be an effective way to process all the conflicting thoughts and feelings that arise as he prepares for change.
 
He searched his room and found the empty journal with the soft black leather cover his grandfather gave him. Now he’s off on a new adventure with a new friend.
 
“How do you feel after journaling?” I ask him.
“Great, clear,” he says.
 
I’m always amazed by what happens when I put pen to paper.
 
I had a whole different plan for this month’s blog and then nature drew me in!

Nature as teacher
 
Writing as a tool to lead us back to the power of NOW
 
I highly recommend putting pen to paper this month. Inspired by my son who was inspired by his friend Xander, I’m going to commit to journaling each day during September.
 
Would you like to join me?
 
All it takes is a pen and paper. Perhaps one day you’ll write pages, another….. a sentence or two, another…. one word.
 
 Simply putting pen to paper is enough! See what happens!
 
Wishing you clear sailing,
 
Blessings,
 
Deborah

Imani once knew her way to the garden, but she’d forgotten. The path zigzagged before her, twisting and turning in dizzying patterns.
     She stopped, sat down on the soft, mossy earth, and closed her eyes.
     “Where is the magic?” she asked herself,  “I can’t feel it.”
     She lay down on her belly and buried her face in her hands. Tears dripped onto her arms, dampening her sleeves.
     Imani opened her eye just as a cloud was covering the sun. She buried her face in her hands again. A gust of wind rattled the branches nearby, a chill running up her spine. And then all was still.
     “Imani, is that you?”
     A familiar voice called her name.
     “Imani?”
     She looked up.
     “Ila! She jumped to her feet and ran to her dear friend. Ila wrapped her great silver wings around Imani and hugged her. Her scales shimmered in the returning sunlight. Her long, powerful tail swished from side to side.
     “So, you were the cloud covering the sun!” said Imani.
     “Yes, sorry,” Ila replied. “It was only for a moment. My wings have grown so big that they’re sometimes a bit hard to manage. You’ve grown, too, I see! You still have your long, golden hair and blue eyes and freckles, only you’re taller. I’m so glad to see you. Welcome back!
     “Thank you,” said Imani. “I’m so glad to be back!”
     “I’ve missed you, Imani, Ila told her.
     Her name echoed in the air.
     “Imani”, she repeated “Imani,” speaking her name like her grandfather used to, calling to herself.
     It was then that she remembered her dream:
 
 
 
Stay tuned……
​

After our ceremonial lunch, I stepped outside. I was immediately drawn to the Gazebo.
 
Entering it, I understood why.
The screened octagonal structure provided a subtle boundary for me.
I could see through the screen and at the same time I was alone.
 
A rectangular table and chairs stood in the center.
A white cloth covered the table.
 
Simplicity. Silence.
 
I smiled, sat in a chair and put my head on the table to rest.
I could feel the gentle breeze from the nearby lake caressing the back
of my neck and shoulders, relaxing them.
Closing my eyes, the chorus of birds lulled me into a deep rest.
 
Some time passed.
 
The soft sound of a bell roused me, calling us to the afternoon
​ session of this beautiful meditation retreat.
 
As I lifted my head I noticed a large insect on the inner side of the screen.
 
The Queen Bee!

Impressive! How did she get in? Can she get out?
She has enough air to breathe but she’s without food and her tribe.
How long can she last?
I turned to go. I’ll check on her later, I decided and share what I’ve seen.
 
As I walked back to the meeting room, I remembered seeing two bumblebees
tumbling over each other inside a beach rose, earlier in the day.
I giggled at the thought of their joyful play.
 
Tribe. Food. Shelter.
 
The Queen Bee’s visit offered me a precious gift.
 
She reminded me that retreat is a necessary time to rest and restore
​ but not a place to reside indefinitely.
 
I also require food, shelter and my tribe in order to thrive.
 
 
Blessings and love,
 
Deborah
 

I can see that day so clearly.

I’m walking along a dirt road with my young daughter Maria. It’s a sunny day in early June.
The sky is deep blue. A gentle breeze keeps the air temperature comfortable.
I’m a glorious 38 weeks pregnant.
 
We’re on a mission.

Maria is selling strawberries for her school fundraiser. Her new friend Tara lives at the
end of this road. We’ve decided this would be a good place to start. We’re skipping along,
singing our favorite songs, happy and free.
 
As the house comes into view, a large, ferocious German Shepard charges down the
hill toward us, barking loudly. Instinctively, I take hold of Maria’s hand and we run
into the nearest building, a barn, with the dog on our heels.
 
We dash into the first empty stall and bolt the door.
The dog bangs on the door with his paws trying to get in.
 
Maria and I move to the back of the stall and sit down. The dog continues to bark
and growl and bang on the door.
“What if he gets in?” Maria asks.
“I don’t think he can fit under the door or jump over it. Let’s stay very quiet and maybe he’ll forget we’re here.”
The dog continues to growl and bang ferociously. He then sits down outside the door.

We’re trapped in a horse stall.

A wave of fear moves through me. No one knows we’re here. We don’t have any way of contacting anyone. My belly tightens. I’m aware that a sudden fright so close to
birth can bring on labor. My heart is racing.
I look at my daughter. I look at my surroundings. NO. This isn’t in my birth plan.
 
I’ve got to pull it together fast.
 
Breathe, Breathe, I remind myself. I begin to slow my breathing, taking long breaths in and out. My belly relaxes. My daughter relaxes.
 
A rusty colored hen trots through our stall, clucking merrily. I smile. We begin to notice other sounds in the barn, the baaing of the sheep, the bleating of the goats, the grunting of the pigs,
the whinnying of the horses. Beautiful animals are welcoming us! 

In a few moments, we’ve moved from fear to peace.

Maria and I continue to sit quietly, listening to all the beautiful sounds. The dog is still parked outside our stall door. We’re ok. Maria dozes off, her head in my lap. I doze on and off.
 
When we awaken, the light is dim and there’s a chill in the air. We’re both ready to go home,
but how?
 
I quietly bend forward and look under the door. No dog! He’s gone! We tiptoe to the stall door.
I look over and down the aisle. No dog! I open the door and listen. No dog!
 
Maria and I creep to the barn door. No dog to be seen! I point to a large bush in the yard
and holding Maria’s hand we run to the bush and hide behind it. No dog!
“Ok, to the gate,” I whisper. We run and keep on running past the gate and down the road until the house is no longer in sight.
“We’re safe! I say. Let’s walk home!”
 “But we didn’t sell any strawberries,” Maria says.
“No, we didn’t, not today. Let’s go selling again tomorrow,” I suggest.
 
Aaron was born at home two weeks later on the Summer Solstice,
surrounded by loving family, loving friends, loving midwives.

​This was the birth I envisioned! 

​A few days later, we were awakened in the wee hours of the morning by the gentle sound
of mewing. Maria’s cat, Coppelia had given birth to five kittens under our bed! A touch of barn living came with us.

​And when Tara’s family heard of our adventure, they bought a whole flat of strawberries!
 

Happy Summer Solstice!
I wonder what magical moments the longest day will offer this year?
 
Love and Blessings,
 
Deborah

I love that we have a day in our yearly calendar to celebrate Mothering!
After all, we all have a mother!
 
Do you look forward to Mother’s Day?
 
Or do you have mixed feelings about this day?
 
Are your Mother’s Day celebrations nourishing to you?
 
Or are they filled with unrealistic expectations from all angles….self, family, culture….
 
Would you like to add some new ingredients to your celebrations?
 
I have a few I’d love to share with you!!
 
Here they are:

​Begin Mother’s Day with your own, very special, self designed Blessing.
In order to set the tone for your Blessing, perhaps you’d like:

*An hour of alone time
*A walk in nature
*A bubble bath

Once you have set the tone, choose the most loving words you know to Bless Yourself.
A Blessing doesn’t have to be long, just authentic and unconditionally loving.

Here’s an example:

Sitting comfortably, place your hands on your heart center
and gently whisper these words to yourself over and over:
 
“I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you.”
 
How do you feel?

In many cultures in the world, bowing is an accepted daily practice.
 
 What happens when we bow?
 Our head becomes physically lower than our hearts,
giving our very willing hearts the opportunity to lead us.
 
How to bow?
From a comfortable seated or standing position, simply place your hands together
​at your heart center, inhale and as you exhale, bow your head lower than your heart.
 
Here’s the most important part:
 
Each time you bow, share one reason why you are grateful to be a mom.
 
See if you can come up with 10 reasons or more!
 
How do you feel?

​

This might be the most challenging one!
Are you so accustomed to giving that you find it challenging to receive?
 
You’re not alone.
 
In order to receive love, we must change our beliefs.
 
“I am deserving of love,”
is a powerful Mother’s Day mantra to repeat over and over.
 
Now, can you receive a little more easily?
 
From the freshly picked flower with the broken stem to the crumpled handmade card to the sweetest kisses to the most creative brunches to the texts and phone calls and Ecards…
 
I invite you to allow yourself to be showered with love inside and out all day!
 
I wish you a Blissful Mother’s Day,
 
Love and Blessings,
 
Deborah
 
 
 
   

On the heels of our powerful Spring Equinox and Super Worm Moon,
my respect for the Earth is heightened.

​Is yours as well?
 
Happy Earth Day!
 
The gardening season is beginning!

Do you like the idea of growing your own food
but slugs and bugs stop you in your tracks?
 
I know something about that! Here’s a glimpse.
 
The summer of 2003 was an especially rainy one.
Our seeds were sprouting faster than usual and our produce was prolific!

All good.
 
I picked some fresh lettuce for dinner one night, rinsed it and made a fresh salad.
I happily served a big wooden bowl filled to the brim with mixed, colorful greens to my family.
 
“EW!” my daughter Maria screeched, as she took her first bite of salad.
She jumped off her chair, pushing the salad bowl away
and scattering lettuce leaves across the table.
 
“A SLUG! THERE’S A SLUG IN MY SALAD! YUK! YUK! DISGUSTING!” She yelled.
 
My boys were fascinated by the slug
and walked over to her chair to get a closer look.
 
NO GO on the slug for Maria.
No slug, no salad, no dinner.
 
“I’m never eating another lettuce leaf from the garden!” she announced.
 
I blew it. Big time.
 
My sixteen- year old daughter, raised on fresh, organic produce
would only eat store bought, plastic wrapped lettuce from
a grocery store for the rest of high school.
 
I really blew it. All for missing one little slippery, slimy slug!

Fast forward to her first week in college.
 
“Mom,” she said on the other end of the phone line.
​“None of the fruits and vegetables has any taste here.”
 
Big smile.
 
Is gardening worth it, slugs and bugs and all?
 
I say YES.
 
I wish you a fun filled gardening season!
 
Love and blessings,
 
Deborah