Because my body has been hurting in various place for such a long time, I've been reading a lot of self-help websites on both physical and mental health.  From what to feed my body, mind and spirit, to how to think about and accept my body, mind and spirit, to how to exercise my body, mind and spirit.

Tuning in to know when your body, mind and spirit are hungry, sad, tired, lonely, thirsty etc etc., is a really good and necessary thing - like recognizing when to remove your hand from that hot burner on the stove - and when I apply the suggestions and advice that resonate with me, it's helpful and I'm even successful in accomplishing a goal here and there, especially when I stick to the advice and stay consistent in applying the suggestions. 

But sometimes there's a deeper thing going on inside my soul.  A rumbling and tumbling of something trying to be seen and heard and felt.  Or fed.  A craving for deep knowledge that I sense but haven't known.  Ancient wisdom.  Ancient memories clambering to be remembered.

Most of the time I ignore those noises, tune them out because when I take the time to look inside myself to see what's going on, I see, not a "thing", but a person.  A little girl longing to be fed with love and attention; acceptance and approval.  She looks up at me with big, sad, brown eyes and she breaks my heart.  So I don't look.  I just feed her with food to dull her senses and lull her to sleep.

The thing is, she always wakes back up.  And she's always hungry.

I'm not sure why I don't just give her what she truly needs, what will truly nourish her.  I want to.  I want her to be healthy, happy and alive.  I want her to finally grow up to be big and strong, lead a fulfilling life and be who she was created to be.  So what's stopping me?

This is terrible to feel and say, but it's easier to let her languish hidden away and allow the distractions and pushes and pulls of everyday life to drown out her plea.  It's a sacrifice on my part to pull up the patience required to listen and pay attention to her needs, take the time to cook and feed her healthy food, call her forth, invite her out to play, teach her how to be a woman, explain to her the ways of life.

It can be a tough world out here.  Is she strong enough to survive?  I'm afraid for her.  Afraid she'll be criticized, scrutinized and found lacking; put down, beaten up, poked in the nose.  Would she be able to stand up for herself?  Defend herself?

Honestly, it frightens me, even though I know she has what it takes to do this.  She already has everything within her necessary to live and thrive.  And it's apparent by the racket she's making down there that she wants to come out and give it a go.

So perhaps it's me who needs to swallow hard, buck up and have a little faith.  I gotta let go sometime.  Every parent does.  I can't protect her forever.  She has to endure the skirmishes of life and push against the hard things and test herself  in order to become strong and beautiful and knowledgeable about herself and the world.  She has to learn to have faith herself and grow in wisdom, and experience the good things in this world and know the satisfaction of coming full circle by offering to others what she's learned.

I know there's only one love greater than the love I can give to that little brown-eyed girl, and that's the love given by The Creator who fashioned and formed her.  So, to Him I must look, who is above, inside and all around her.  In Him is where I will find the courageous love I need to call her forth.  He is the Ancient Wisdom and the Holder of Ancient Memories from Whom I must draw.  He has the instructions I need to quiet her rumblings and tumblings.

So when she comes out I must point her to Him, put her in His capable hands and have the faith that He will take care to lead and guide and protect her.  And I do know He will.

This is a simple post about being thankful, grateful.  Something I have to continually remind myself to be.  I have a few aches and pains in my body that can get me down, and a few of my "very important dreams" remain unfulfilled.  But, even so, I need, want, to be thankful.

Today, I want to list, actually write down, what I'm thankful for:

* Sight
* Good hearing
* A good mind
* The ability to express myself
* The strength and ability to care for myself
* A loving husband
* Family and friends who love me and whom I can love back
* A solid home; warm, safe, with a pretty  garden I'm still strong enough to work in; and it's close enough to the water for me to hear, like right now, the fog horns out in the Strait.
* A washer and dryer - right inside my house
* Running water
* In-door toilets - 2 of them!
* Trash pick-up service
* A good job with a fair and appreciative boss - he sends me home on occasion, with a really good bottle of wine
* Satisfaction of doing the best job I can at work
* Ideas and dreams
* A fair amount of compassion
* More wisdom now than I had 10 years ago - 5 years ago, or yesterday even!
* The ticking grandfather clock in my living room that reminds me of my mother, though I don't need that to remember her, every day I think of her.
* My father, too

Hey!  Did you see what happened?  This is such an incomplete list and I wrote these down in no particular order, just as they came to mind, but one thought would spark another, which led to another.  As if they were all connected.  Isn't that amazing?

And look, watch this!  I could greatly expand on each one of them.  Each one could be a category all in themselves, such as:

* A loving husband who is...  faithful; kind even when speaking a truth I don't want to hear; rises early in the morning and goes to work every day so we can enjoy food, shelter, entertainment; wise; strong; an excellent spiritual leader in our home; honest; respectful; intelligent; loves God...

Or:

* Good hearing to... hear the clock in my living room, the fog horns in the Strait; the wind in the trees; my friends encouragement; the words that come out of my own mouth; the birds chirping; the rain tapping on the window panes...

And did you notice?  Each item in each category could become a sub-category all in itself.

Thankfulness surrounds us.  Thankfulness begets thankfulness.  When I list my "thankfuls", I see how wealthy I truly am... hummm...

Okay, so... buh bye for now...  I'm gonna go think up some more, embrace 'em all - and become a bizillionaire!  

She's tall, wide, accommodating and 50' long.  She carried us safely from Anacortes to Roche Harbor in just a few hours.  

Pushing off from the dock, it was cloudy, but by the time we pulled into Roche Harbor the sun was out and stayed with us until it set the trees in silhouette that evening.

Motoring between islands large and small, with tip-of-the-iceberg like rock outcroppings here and there, we gawked our way, binoculars ever in hand, past homes, other boats and ferries.  A small, woodsy cabin here, a captain's cottage there, some nestled in trees by the water, some open to the sun; some with companion yachts moored at their long and languorous private docks, extending their domain into the sea; one home with pink flamingos - yes, even out here there has to be one - and this one had two pairs sitting on the waterside, a classic stick figure version, only very tall, stretched high to be seen; and the other pair a blow up version resembling huge beached floaty's waiting with silly-smiley grins for their children to come play.

Come late afternoon, securely anchored, embraced by the island arms of Roche Harbor, we relaxed in the cockpit of the Tani Kaye, the little coffee table laden with snacks of salmon spread, pita chips, veggies and wine - with nothing at all to whine about.  Later, an easy dinner of BBQ burgers, potato salad and chips.

At sundown, the dusky evening brought blasts and a boom, and air horns blowing all around, as the tradition of ceremony saluted the retiring of the colors honoring "Our America" and our neighborly Canadian friends.    

Right now, looking out over the water I see a sea of anchor lights marking the location of each boat at anchor in the harbor.  The fringe of trees at the top of the islands are all that remains of the silhouette against the darkening western sky.  Lights of houses on the hillsides illuminate the spaces and occupants within.

Bobbing, bobbing, flowing with the winds of the currents.  The moon, a little more that half full, casts it's arrow of light, only slightly rippled by a gentle breeze, across the water pointing directly in my direction, pointing to me.

My boating companions down below laughing, joking, dice in a cup - shakelshakelshakel crussshc! - as they spill onto the table.  Apparently Paul's the winner of this round.

Sounds of laughing, joyous merrymaking float my way from boats across the water.   We are almost still now.  The water is calm.  The sky almost dark.  I am getting drowsy.  Rock me to sleep, sweet Tani Kaye.  Let me wake to the sunrise in the early morn.