Hickory Smoked Turkey

  The other day, while sitting in circle, a student who had been upset and crying outside because a friend hurt her feelings, leaned over to me and said: "I'm sorry I'm crying over something so small." My heart sank because I knew how she felt. I looked our sweet student in the face and reassured her she had nothing to apologize for, that her feelings, no matter what they were, were valid.   Why is it so easy to recognize the pain or sadness of another human as valid, but it's such a challenge to honor and validate my/our own?   I've struggled with not only validating my own feelings but even recognizing them.  Over the summer, with my sister and nephew in town, I was sure that the nausea and trouble breathing I was experiencing, were due to an asthma attack. My hands and fingers cramped up and I felt like I was hyperventilating.  My husband took me to urgent care where the doctor listened to my symptoms and asked if I was especially worried about some

Macro focus, micro focus, ants move. Rooster on gravel road, VFW door. Tips of leaves begin to change. From the playground, a rooster crows.

  I think of myself as optimistic. I tend to have a positive outlook on things and try to see the "bright side" of challenges. But, I am kidding myself. I'm freaking stressed out, in a manageable way, but I need to acknowledge it.   This summer I began to notice a pattern. I had just gotten surgery and after a week I expected that I would be back to normal. Six weeks later, while feeling pretty normal I'm still experiencing the after effects and am very much in the healing process. When I slow down and allow myself to think about how I'm feeling and the possible reasons associated with it, I see that I too often try to rush through life without acknowledgement of experience, struggle, or emotion.   On Friday I met with a new acupuncturist who is helping me with my healing process but also fertility. When going through my intake form she asked me a few times about stress levels in my life. I answered each question with, "Nah, I don't think I'm

Dynamite In the uneven lot, he walks slowly, the shuffle of a stroke, to the coffee shop door. I stay behind, don't want to rush him. I wait in line, "Good morning, Brian.  Coffee for here and two refills?" The man smiles, "Yes, please. "

The window, one large cloud, nowhere to go or float suspended near me.