Morning story; enjoying the process

She woke up to Beethoven, the soothing yet startling strains of the woodwinds unraveling the edges of her sleep. The violas and cellos continued the unwinding, and suddenly, she was up. She checked in with herself. She knew she wanted pancakes.

Downstairs, she pet her beautiful dog. She put on water to boil for coffee and melted butter for the ‘cakes. She let herself out to pee, as well as her dog, and marveled again at the April warmth and the earliness of the light.

She decided to eat each pancake as it came off the pan, to save time, she thought, but also because she didn’t want to wait. She listened to a story about people wanting to see their loved ones’ bodies after they had died, and then a story about a man whose mother was having a heart attack and how he managed his mentally ill brother. It was time to make a smoothie. She got blueberry juice on her knuckles from the freezer bag, creating a nasty faux bruise.

She got in the car with her dog and her things and drove to the trailhead for a quick walk. The dog needed to get out the wiggles. She thought about being enough, she looked at the different colors in the spruce trees, and she wondered when these trails would inevitably become a swamp, impassable until next winter. She turned around earlier than normal to give herself enough time to get to school.

The drive was a treat; dry roads. She arrived to animal quarters at 7:50 am and learned that her help that morning wasn’t needed.

There is a certain feeling she gets when she has planned a plan and that plan is cancelled. It’s like floating. It’s like a balloon released from a child’s hand.

She goes back to her office, in the quiet, empty building. It’s been a hard couple of days for her. It often feels like her days are hard. Her friend last night told her she wasn’t too much, but she feels like that. Anyone who touches her will eventually hear the stories of feeling lost, feeling afraid, feeling sad.

But, she remembers, this blog is called Positive Affirmations for Women. So, she wants to leave whoever is reading this with a positive idea, one that connects with her little morning story. Keep on trying. Keep on trying to find lasting peace and happiness within your heart. Remember those who love and support you. Find safety in their embraces and in their words. Keep getting outside and be there, really be there. Enjoy the process.



Oscillation is a beautiful word, with gentle meanings. I actually prefer this physics-specific definition more than the general: regular variation in magnitude or position around a central point.

More on that in a minute.

[If you know me, as most of you reading this do quite well (in fact, I believe about 50% of my regular readership was instrumental in my conception), you may have noticed that if I am asked a question or have a story to tell I like to give a lot of backstory. I like to provide the background. Sometimes I have to go back a decade to give adequate backstory, eventually, breathlessly, arriving at the point. I hope this is a charming attribute rather than something a listener or reader has to grin and bear.]


Yesterday I went to my friend Morganne’s yoga class. Morganne was unable to teach for a couple of months, so her return to Heartstream was exciting news. I hadn’t attended a yoga class since I ran the Equinox relay, so that nine-mile climb was still tensing up my butt and hips and hamstrings. Morganne leads an amazing class: playful, easeful, challenging, and natural. I left feeling wide open. It felt good.

When I got home to my cold cabin I decided to make wheat tortillas from scratch. When you live in a dry cabin, every cooking endeavor requires greater consideration, as the clean up will inevitably take more effort. Also, flour and water essentially create glue, so that has to be included in your cleanup considerations. To cut a long backstory short, my kitchen got gluey, the tortillas were sticking to the rolling pin, Junie was annoyingly squeezed between my legs and the fridge (her favorite place), and I was really hungry. I became unrealistically frustrated, annoyed, and angry. And this! After my wonderful yoga class! After a wonderful day at school and with my dog! Wasn’t yoga supposed to elevate me and open up my heart and feed my compassionate fire?

Ah, I’d been duped again. To be human is to be duped!

To me, the practice of yoga does open up your heart. It opens it up and it can be scary. Opening does not mean reliably overflowing love. It means shining a light on whatever is sticking to your ribs, whatever is lodged in your hips, whatever is tensing your jaw muscles. I went to bed early, really upset.

Today I went to a poster presentation and a man that I am interested in spending more time with was there and we didn’t talk. I was disappointed and felt very vulnerable. I felt unrealistically sad. Yet, I took Junie for a walk, and started thinking, as I stomped through the dead birch leaves and old cranberry bushes. Think, think, think. And I thought about oscillation.

Oscillation! Here it is! The terminus of my backstory and the entrance of the point. Going back to our definition (regular variation in magnitude or position around a central point), one could see the “central point” as truth, whatever that means to you. And the oscillation around truth, in my mind and body, is a back-and-forth between heart opening, learning to exist. Heart opening more, learning to exist. Heart opening so much it aches, oh-I-didn’t-know-it-could-open-so-much…learning to exist.

As I grow older, my heart keeps opening up to previously unfathomable chasms. And I keep learning to exist within that deepening chasm. I get better at living with my heart, but it keeps opening deeper and more painfully and more wonderfully. I oscillate between opening and learning.

Heart-opening experiences, although they can scare us, are a necessary part of the oscillation of a healthy life.

Photo credit.