It was a warm summer night, a few hours before midnight. My sweet, furry companion, Brooklyn, a now 16 years old petite beagle lab mix, has gone outside for the night, as she has done most nice summer nights all the years of her life. For the last few months, she has been recovering from a bout of vestibular or old dog syndrome. After the incident–which amounts to vertigo and required our extreme love and attention as she re-learned how to walk–she slowly regained her health and persistence and continued on through the days and nights with no apparent judgement of her new normal. When she and her “sister”, Gogi, go out for the night, Brooklyn usually lies near my bedroom window and sleeps, while Goji does perimeter checks and general patrolling–as congruent with her part-Pyrenees nature.

Before I had quite settled in for sleep myself, I heard the barking. Very consistent and coming from the other end of the house. Goji has a special kind of bark she uses when she has located some kind of animal and I heard that now plus barks coming from Brooklyn.

Investigation would be needed.

I headed outside barefoot and in my nightgown (thank goodness for living in the country) and tried to see where they were and what they were up to. I finally made my way around to the concrete pad in front of the garage to find them both, frantically barking and digging on the other side of the small concrete wall by our water spigot. My 35lb geriatric puppy clawing with all her might, one back leg propped up on top of the wall, Goji right by her side–digging and barking! Hey, hey, hey, what’s going on here?, I start with.

No one acknowledges my inquiry.

I make my way around the wall with a flashlight to see a poor armadillo had dug itself into a hole next to the wall where the ground must be soft with water from the hose…and the dogs are non-stop digging right on top of it! Good thing it has armor.

Everyone is still intent with their tasks, plus I’m not sure how much hearing Brooklyn has at this point anyway, so I make my way into the fray. I reach in to scoop Brooklyn up–one arm under her chest and one behind her back legs, letting her knees bend in towards her belly. (I’ve become accustomed to this stance as we used it frequently during her recovery, taking her up and down the two big steps into the front of our house before she regained her ability to walk the ramp my husband had built for her months before. Her 35lb frame is just about what I can squat and lift with proper alignment!) I didn’t know if this strategy would work or if I would end up having to carry her all the way back inside the house, but when I set her down on the gravel driveway, she seemed to let out a sigh of relief, thankful to be pulled out of her frenzy and slowly started to walk back towards the front door with me. Goji also followed suit, tired from the exertion and came to rest inside awhile. They drank their water and laid down until their panting subsided. Their eyes drifted closed for a time as I assessed whether I should return them back into the night or wait a few hours for Goji to surely wake me from my slumber with barks of dire urgency. Sensing that I did not truly have much of a say, I opted for the former, and released them out again, urging them to please go on to sleep.

And we all had a lovely, peaceful and deep rest…

Until, of course, one of us was awakened–again–to the sounds of two barking dogs in the distance, intent on mischief, mayhem and possibly even murder if it weren’t for their tried and true girl, who sleeps with one ear open now and can’t help but come to the rescue (or to break up the party–depending on your perspective!)

Out I went again. Into the darkness, same story – barefoot, nightgown–glad to be in the county–happy that it’s warm–and tracking the sounds of barking to a different location now. Down the hill and off to the side of the front yard…a commotion, beyond the hugelkultur where the asparagus and blueberries grow. Walking briskly there, I shine my flashlight on to two dogs–a 75lb black and white part-Pyrenees and medium sized light brown and white beagle lab mix–digging and clawing right on top of the back of an armadillo. The same one, I presume. It has dug itself into another hole right next to our chain link fence, likely trying to get the hell out of this danger zone and being, so far, unsuccessful. Honestly, there are only about two places that afford access to our property through gaps in the gates, so finding it’s way out is going to be a challenge. Many a small, furry creature has wondered in through these gaps and they often don’t make their way back out. I pray the armadillo works swiftly to find an exit as I coax the dogs (again) to leave this scene and come to bed for good.

Once Brookyln’s digging is interrupted, she follows me again, willingly, wearily back up the hill to the house. I worry that she won’t be able to move the next day after such exertion. We leave Goji to continue “the fight,” and I give Brooklyn water, salmon flavored doggie CBD oil and a little assistance into her comfy bed. Goji makes her way in too and passes out on her side, taking up a large swath of floor with her outstretched limbs. I hear her snoring as I crawl back into bed, where my husband has been sleeping soundly for hours.

In the morning, everyone is eats breakfast. Brooklyn moves around in her same “new normal” fashion and I am thankful that she is still living her best wild dog life. Goji has her nose to ground and is heading towards the fence to begin the perimeter check.

This writing was prompted by teacher Dixie Keyes at Eastern Livity’s Under the Moonlight: Yoga & Writing Series in the Summer of 2022. It is a story about an encounter with a nocturnal animal. It is also an ode to an amazing friend, teacher, soul mate and furry companion, Brooklyn Taylor 7/3/2005– 7/5/2022


One of the best things about owning my holistic wellness center, Eastern Livity, is that I get to host the best teachers and take their classes myself! We have now had three rounds of a Yoga+Writing series taught by yoga teacher and Arkansas State University professor, Dixie Keyes. This is perfect for me because I love to write, but my personal writing often gets put on the back burner. I do very well with classes, assignments and deadlines! It also exposes me to different writing techniques, to hear other’s unique perspectives and allows me to release stories from various times in my life that otherwise may never leave a journal or even my own memory. One assignment was a vignette–a brief, evocative description about a comfort item. At first, I had a hard time identifying my comfort item, as nothing springs to mind that I interact with often, like a special blanket or clothing item. Then, as I laid in bed looking at the shelf that holds my tchotchkes, I saw it. A little statue of two raggedy Ann and Andy like dolls hugging each other with the phrase, “Each day my love for you grows stronger. I’ll love you forever…even longer ” written at the bottom. It was from my Grandmother’s house and it instantly reminder me of her. This would be my item! This is what I wrote:

Her laugh was adorable. She was petite and delicate, yet robust and sturdy simultaneously. When she laughed, it was as though she was trying to conceal it, and her body shook as a result. Her eyes were pale blue. The creases around them told stores of hardship, but mostly of love. She radiated acceptance. I’m not sure she was capable of not loving unconditionally. She had a one pointed focus on the divine, and the love of God moved through her and emanated out of her and was her. She fully shaped me, yet it is only in the writing of this, nearly a decade after her passing, that new understandings are revealed to me.

I see her through a new lens. My guardian angel. My guru. My teacher sent before me to lead by example for my first 30 years. I see now, with no disrespect, her disregard for material processions. Look how cute, I say, gesturing to a knickknack I have never noticed on the shelf in her bathroom. Oh? Take it home with you, she replied. We were in the only bathroom in her house that had a bathtub, but it had long been turned into a sanctuary for plants and I have no memory of it ever being used to bathe a person.

One fall, before her passing, we were in her flower garden digging up begonias to save them from impending frost. There she was, 88 years young, two hands full of flowers and earth. She turned her head to look at me, Don’t you just love playing in the dirt? It’s my favorite thing! I am smiling, and loving her, and I snap a picture. Next year, we will use it on the front of the little card they hand out at the funeral home. The ones where you try and summarize everything a person was in this life in a single fold, four inch note card.

I sometimes thought she was too meek. I wished her more outspoken, bold. Now, I have a better understanding of her priorities. I see only her contentment, acceptance. I see her living in the present, relieved of desires. How you teach me still!

Each day my love for you grows stronger. I’ll love you forever…even longer.

In memory of Retha Lydia Holland Martin 1921–2011

“Love knows not its own depth until the hour of separation” –Kahil Gibran

Be still and know that I am God. Be still. Be quiet. Turn inward. Breathe. Mediation. Know your true nature. Remember yourself.

This is what I am hearing right now. This is what I am called to write as I said goodbye this morning to one of our four “outside” cats. I did more than say goodbye. I actually had to make the choice to take her to the vet, so that they could end her suffering. I had to choose to end her life. I do not take this lightly and, (as some of you who have had this experience also know), it was a awful.

I came to understand this morning that it is by grace that I do not have to make these decisions of life and death every day. And yet, the other side of that same coin is, that whether I am fully aware or not, I am participating in this cycle daily at various levels. When you believe, as I do, that everything is sentient, everything is conscious, or – a term I recently heard – ensouled, then I understand that I am an active part of death. I already observe how my garden is like a microcosm of which I am the god and ruler and have learned many lessons from this. I do not relish deciding what insects should live and which should be exterminated. I do not relish choosing that my need to live is more important than their’s –that my life goals are higher than theirs. They are, after all, doing exactly as they should be doing – executing their objectives at a very high caliber. Yet death is an absolutely necessity, as everything that dies turns into the soil that grows the plants that feed us and keep our lives going.

{A tangent here, something that I think of often: one of the many reasons there is so much unhappiness amongst us…the majority of us modern day humans, will not get to be buried in the soil, and therefore, will not be able to fulfill the end of our bargain – unable to fulfill the rest of the circle of life. The poet Kahil Gibran’s words always come to my mind,

When you kill a beast, say to him in your heart:

By the same power that slays you, I too am slain, and I too shall be consumed. For the law that delivers you into my hand shall deliver me in to a mightier hand. Your blood and my blood is naught but the sap that feed the tree of heaven.}

And so, to be here, human, on earth, is to participate in the dance of life and death. Creation and destruction. All necessary and born out of one another. I do my best to “tread lightly” in this dance, but I know I must actively participate. I am mostly vegetarian, I eat only seafood from time to time, but if I think too long on it, I will refrain from eating animals and fish all together. But still, I harvest the fruits of the plants and compost the plants at the end of the season, and kill the insects that threaten my food source, and fell the trees needed to build our home and business, and feed canned meat of other animals to my pets so that they may live and thrive… and the list goes on. No one can escape the cycle. (Except at the end of life as I mentioned earlier. But we only cheat ourselves by embalming our bodies and putting them into sealed caskets and cement vaults…)

I needed help to accept the circumstances I was finding myself in over the last few weeks. Our cat, Hemingway, was diagnosed with kidney failure and anemia over a month ago. It was terminal and I was sad that it took me so long to notice that she was awfully thin and not as hardy as she usually was. We brought her home and I pulled out my trusty copy of Dr. Pitcairn’s Complete Guide to Natural Health for Dogs and Cats. I read up on foods and herbal supplements and suddenly this vegetarian was making bone broth, chicken & rice and beef livers! I started offering broth twice a day and was able to get a lot of supplements in there to help her. Chlorophyll to help build blood, vitamin A, nutritional yeast for B vitamins and a blend of others like kelp, marshmallow root, calcium and probiotics. Served in warm broth and sprinkled over all the dry food, in case she wanted that. From what I can tell, this helped her. She drank a lot of broth and spent almost everyday (even despite the cold) outside under the red bud tree near our kitchen window. She had trouble staying warm from the anemia but the other cats would snuggle with her at night and I would make her a hot water bottle. She let me and my family touch and pet her more that we had been able to her whole life, as she and her sisters were feral and we’ve done our best to domesticate them. I held her for the first time since she was a kitten! She reached out to touch my nose to hers (cat lovers know this is a big deal!), she smelled my forehead and my hair and she even began to purr. I knew I wouldn’t be able to heal her and this is tough news for an optimist such as myself. So, I promised we would monitor her quality of life and make the decision to end her suffering, only if we felt that she was somehow asking this of us. It’s wild, but over my 37 years of having so very many animals live with us, we have never had to do this before. I suppose it’s because we live in the county and often the animals would go off on their own and disappear or we lost them to getting hit by cars before we had built the big fence we have now, some died of old age. But I have lived thus far without having to hold a small friend in my arms while making the choice for a kind soul to administer something that would cease the beating of her heart.

A few days ago, I consulted my new Animal Spirit guidebook I got for Christmas for help and support. The dragonfly card told me “The situation at hand may be different than it appears at first glance…the dragonfly reminds us to calm the mind so that the light of wisdom can shine through.”

I tried to think of alternative ways to see the situation. I thought of how death can be a gift even though we mostly think only of life as the gift. Death is transformation. Death is release of our current body–especially one that may no longer be functioning well.

I bundled up and sat in the garage with Hemie. I wrapped her up on my lap and did my best to show her she was loved.

My husband woke me this morning saying, “I think Hemie is suffering and it may be time.” The past two days she had eaten less and less broth and she did not spend time outside. I had lined all the cat beds with puppy pads, because, as one can imagine when the kidneys are failing, it’s hard to be in control of them.

I went to her and she was talking and talking to me. The past few days, she’d become even more affectionate. I feel happy to think that she can trust me. She was sleeping in her liter box. I cleaned her face because she no longer has the energy for grooming. I wrapped her in fleece and sat her on my lap. She stopped meowing and started purring and I tried to know if I was about to make the “right” decision. I quieted my mind. I was breathing through my tears, her purring calming me. I searched for  other perspectives and I began thanking her:

Thank you for trusting me to take care of you.

Thank you spending this time with me.

Thank you for choosing me.

Thank you for teaching me something so difficult about what it means to love.

Thank you for being my friend.

Thank you for being my teacher.

Thank you for showing me over the years, the many ways that relationships can work. Until recently, I never got to love you in the way that I wanted. You didn’t like to be held or petted. You were distrustful (& with good reason, as when we did have to hold you, we often were having to take you to vet!). And yet, we co-existed. We fed you dry food and you safely roamed our five acres of land. You played and hunted and spent days in the warm sunshine. At night you cuddled with you sisters in the beds and carpets we made for you in our garage–protected from the elements. Thank you for showing me the many ways that we can give and receive love. Thank you for not giving me my way.

Thank you for being an amazing example of bravery, courage, and fierceness. You were an excellent hunter! Unafraid of the dark or of other predators. Eating so many lizards, mice and voles!

Thank you for showing me how to persevere despite unpleasant circumstances. (The vet said that you was so anemic, that if these had been your blood levels after an accident, you would not have survived it). You are so incredibly strong–continuing to survive–and enjoy the day–to–day life of a cat without commentary and comparison to past better days.

I pray I am doing right by you, in setting you free of your body, so that you may transition on.

Thank you for teaching me about detachment. Aparigraha (the fifth Yama or restraint in yoga teachings) Non-grasping. Non-clinging. Non-possessiveness. We have shared nearly a decade together and yet, you are not mine. I will make this decision today, I will let go.

I’ll see you again…in some other time, in some other form. Yet perhaps, we have already known each other. After all, in this list is some pretty big lessons brought to me in a pretty tiny package – a cat, that all in all, I did not spend THAT much time with over the years. (I so enjoy thinking of the soul contracts I made before entering into this life…my friends and “enemies” meeting up with over the course of my years here to help me learn and send me further on my path.)

She rested and purred and listened to me speak.

It was time to go. We loved on her and praised her and my mom and I cried. Her body became heavier in my arms, even before they administered the drugs. I thanked them. Today (and probably most days), this vet was the one who would ultimately end her life…and what a heavy job that is.

I know that on one hand, it’s all very real and it was so very shitty to be there in that moment with everything it entailed. But I also tried to remind myself that it wasn’t real at all. That this is the play of consciousness – moving in and out of form. That it so loves to do this! That in fact, these bodies and forms are what is keeping us separate from each other. I will continue to meditate on this…I know it is true. But, I am human, and alas, I do love the forms. I will continue to learn these lessons from Hemingway and others as I continue on…

How quickly we go from form to formless. Death, just on the other side of an exhale. I held a soul on my way to the vet, and as I knew would be the case, I held a body on the way back home. She purred all way the way there. Her fur was still so beautiful and soft like a rabbit’s. Sweet and tiny friend, teaching me some of the biggest lessons for this life, I honor you. I respect you. I thank you. I will return you to the earth and I promise, when my work is done here someday, I will join you.

I know it is a gift to be with a being at the beginning or end of their life. I know it is a privilege. I will accept what that entails.

Namaste’ ~ I see the light inside of you…It is the same light I have inside of me! The light of love, of God, of consciousness. I remember that we are one and it is impossible for us to be separate


Hemingway Taylor–Steinberg was polydactyl, meaning she had many extra toes on each foot and her name came from the stories that Ernest Hemingway had many polydactyl cats living on his property in Key West.






My own kind of foodie

Breakfast splurge at Sucrose in St.Charles, Mo.

Country life vs. city life for sure. I’m a forever foodie – but maybe not in the traditional sense? It’s not always about aesthetics but often about nourishment (as in my new fascination with foraging wild foods) but today, in the big city of St.Louis, it’s about splurging on some higher sugar and fat than I would ever have at home. But still, made in house daily by a small, local business.

While some might call me picky, persnickety or snobbish when it comes to what I ingest – that’s their prerogative! I am picky because I care about certain issues like where my food came from, the possible ethical issues tied into the procuring of the food (Ex. Coffee and the workers involved, dairy and the cows and factory farms involved), the packaging of the food and its environmental impact, the corporation who owns the establishment vs. supporting local businesses etc!! I generally enjoy this process – it makes me feel empowered and I feel health is one of the highest priorities. Without it, we can’t do anything else, right?! And remember, WE LITERALLY ARE WHAT WE EAT!

Over the past years – since starting the Zero Waste Lifestyle and realizing how good it felt (perhaps surprisingly) to be deprived sometimes – I have redefined what my daily eating intake looks like. I no longer eat three meals a day, I don’t snack in between the meals I do eat, I stay hydrated with water, I don’t eat unless I am feeling hungry, I look at my eating seasonally – saying goodbye to blueberries, tomatoes and cantaloupes etc in the winter. For over a year, I have been practicing intermittent fasting – meaning I go as long as I can overnight not eating. I shoot for at least 12 hours and easily go 14 or 16 hours a few times a week. Suffice it to say, I am working on my durability! Remember, IT’S OKAY TO FEEL HUNGRY sometimes! In fact, it’s good for us! Our bodies were designed for feast and famine, but when’s the last time you’ve experienced famine?! And this is where some fun challenges come in for me. I can hold out and find a local cafe over fast food. I can eat only what I find at a farmer’s market and create my recipes from that – rather than driving all over town looking for specific ingredients that may be out of season or in disposable packaging. I am not addicted to coffee, so I will hold out for my ethically sourced, rain forest certified cup and pass up the Folgers.

I would like to end by acknowledging that I am a privileged, white woman who has enough money (& a vehicle etc) to make some of these – what some may deem – elitist choices. I still stand by the fact that there is a way for all people to have some of these same choices and to embrace the Zero Waste Lifestyle, but it may take education and some sort of external help, guidance or initial monetary investment to get there. The truth is getting back to nature and learning about the plants around us holds all the answers. Living simply and letting go of the perceived standards of living, which are guided by consumerism, will be our salvation. It’s not about choosing and paying for organic food, it’s about putting some seeds out in your backyard or in your windowsill. It’s about researching what all the different “weeds” are surrounding your apartment complex or in the field across the street and then consuming them! It’s about cutting back on your meat intake – saving money and packaging – and being nourished by extremely affordable dried beans, legumes and fresh vegetables or eating the meat you hunt (deer, anyone?!) It’s not about only being able to afford Folgers coffee, it’s about finding some Yaupon Holly from a friend (in the South and Midwest) and harvesting North America’s natural caffeinated beverage!

Talk about bringing things back to local!

I know I’m an optimist. I’m a believer. But simplicity is the key. Less is more. Excess will be the death of us. The priority of comfort will be our downfall. Embrace discomfort. Become durable.

Extra little references/thoughts:

Marie Kondo has a new Netflix show helping people to downsize and keep only the material things that bring them joy. Based on her book, “The Magic Art of Tidying Up”. Remember – when cleaning out, donate your belongings and recycle everything possible before sending to the garbage!

A reminder for those who would consider themselves to be followers of Christ (& everyone else too!): Jesus had no belongings. For all accounts, he was a homeless, shoeless, dirty, long haired Middle Eastern hippy who preached “its easier for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle than it is for a rich man to enter the kingdom of Heaven.” And this is why Jesus is my homeboy, for reals. But why, in a country that is majority Christian, are we ACTUALLY ruled by the economy and consumerism?? I hear Christians talk about the Bible passage that says “you cannot serve two masters,” and Its references as man or government vs. God. I ask you today to contemplate replacing “man” with words like the economy, materialism, money, or excess food and see how that strikes you. Contemplation = good.

Now, amen and namaste’ y’all!

Countrygal Citygal

A Thanksgiving Prayer

In our home, we hold hands before meals and in silence, we offer up our own prayers, in the way we want, to whom we wish. I do a lot more meditating than I do praying, mostly because I feel words are often to small to express the complex thoughts/emotions I’m experiencing and that it’s better to sit in stillness and quiet and stay on the “receiving end” of things. When hearing other’s prayers, I often hear the same sentiments – especially around this time of year. Dear Heavenly Father, bless this food that we are about to receive and bless the hands that prepared it. This is a wonderful statement, but there is so much more I feel is missing. I don’t really think anyone in my extended family spends too much time wondering what kind of prayer I would pray if I was ever the one to say it out loud, and I’m not even sure I would have the courage to say all of this in that setting. It’s emotional. It’s messy. It’s ugly. It’s not traditional. It is in fact, the shadow side of this Thanksgiving Day. It is the other side of the “yin yang” that makes it all complete. I feel it’s necessary and it makes me feel so much better to put it out there – bravely, courageously – embracing it all. Not just the food. Not just the pilgrims. Not just the tryptophan, the parade and football. This is what I came up with and pray it will all my heart.


A Thanksgiving Prayer by Holland LeDelia ~ November 22, 2018

Mother/Father God,

We kneel down before you now in humility and gratitude – overwhelmed by the goodness and by the abundance that we are lucky enough to receive from you daily. On this day, may we enjoy and be thankful for the nourishing food, the animals that gave their lives, the people that prepared the meal,  and the company with whom we share it.

May we remember that the collective path we took to get here as Americans was fueled by greed and ego. We coveted, lied, cheated, stole and murdered. We remember now the Indigenous People. We ask forgiveness for the sins of our ancestors and we pray that new ways of reparation will be shown to us, so that we may actively care for the Native People now and work to heal what we’ve so badly damaged.

As we enjoy this excess, may we remember those who are not experiencing abundance and those who are barely surviving. They are around the world, across America, and in our town – all around us. May we not take for granted what we have and we pray now for opportunities to help and serve those in need. Give us the awareness to see these opportunities and the drive and energy to take them! To care for God’s people with and open heart and without judgement.

Mother/Father God, we ask to be taught MODERATION. Teach us to live in harmony with nature, animals and our fellow humans. Teach us – on this day of plenty and everyday – to take only what is necessary. Lead us away from greed, gluttony and fear that there is “not enough.” Help us to stay present, mindful and thankful everyday that we receive this gift of life. Help us do our best to contribute positively to others’ lives – helping them in any way we can – to become present, mindful and thankful.

We pray this now to the God of our own understanding. Amen.





Marriage Prep

It’s now October 1st and my best friend’s wedding is today. (Don’t worry, I haven’t decided that I am in love with him and that he should be with me instead of his fiancé!)
Not only that, but my own wedding is only 16 days away. (How Kyle and I managed to get married in our 34th year within 3 weeks of each other is truly amazing to me.)

With a large event around the corner, it’s easy to get taken over by ALL the details. Your attention is spread across so many things, from sleeping arrangements to food planning, activities, the ceremony, the weather, and for ours, how to make this a zero waste wedding. About a month ago, I was reminded that I needed to be preparing myself for the actual marriage that was to take place–not just planning the event.

The truth is that I had been on cloud nine since Jonathan proposed back in December. We were having a blast doing everything together as fiancé’s and loving our life by the beach in St. Thomas and starting to make wedding plans. My wake up call happened while I was attending another wedding in August and for two days, I felt fear. Whatever you like to call it–cold feet, anxiety, uncertainty–I was feeling it, and knowing that I could not continue on with those feelings–and I certainly could not walk down the aisle with those doubts.

I spoke to my fiancé a bit, trying not to hurt his feelings with my honesty. I reached out to a couple of friends who I thought could help me sort through, but they were unavailable. I was in trouble, because I remembered–after this blissful eight months of engagement–that I barely even like the concept of marriage!!

I spent years of my life deciding I would not marry for various reasons–many of those stemming from injustice and my rebellion against tradition. Until only recently, one reason I didn’t want to marry was because my best friend, who is homosexual, could legally not! I felt a horrible sting that I was allowed to have this right and this ceremony just because I loved someone of the opposite sex. I secretly told myself, I wouldn’t marry until he could. Another reason–all my friend’s are divorced. I spent my 20’s being in weddings and attending weddings and getting gifts for weddings and then one by one seeing those marriages end in divorce. With each one, I thought, no thanks. Also, monogamy is not actually in our nature. It is unnatural for humans and most animals to be monogamous, so I questioned if I should go against nature. (Especially with what long lives most people live nowadays.) And most recently, with the current Presidential campaigns that are happening, I believe with Secretary Clinton in the running, sexism is rearing its UGLY head. So I dissected the process of marriage:

I don’t want anyone to GIVE me away. I am my own woman! I’m not going anywhere!

I don’t want to be proposed MAN & WIFE. Why not WIFE and MAN??

Why does the woman’s family have to pay for most of the expenses??

Why do I have to give up my name and take someone else’s??

Seriously, at every turn, marriage is sexist and kinda crazy. (Note to self: read Elizabeth Gilbert’s Committed.) To top it all off, my fiancé was raised in a religion that he and I do not practice, but that most of his family still does. We made the decision to ask our families to stand with us and our wedding parties during the ceremony, and although they initially said yes, when this time rolled around, many questions started to be asked about who our officiant was, and what exactly would he be saying during the ceremony (and would that put them in a compromising position according to their faith)?

I’ll jump now to my fiancé and I thankfully getting in touch with our officiant, (the wonderful Matthew Krepps, owner of Circle Yoga Shala in Northwest Arkansas), and talking through these issues over speaker phone on day two of unsettling feelings. Honestly, most of my thoughts did not even have to be voiced, as Matt calmly articulated his plans for the ceremony and spoke to us about commitment we will be  making. Silent tears ran down my cheeks as I felt my fears subside, with my fiancé’s
hand in mine. When we hung up, I felt better, but I spoke to one more friend, who brought to my attention, that my feelings had been a wake up call…and it was time to get to work.

What a gift. I have realized that I have a month and half to DO THE WORK of preparing for marriage.

This is not decorations and ordering dishes and making napkins, this is work of entering into this union without reservation.

My work was cut out for me.

I began in silent meditation–making sure to make time for this daily. I began to sit quietly and actually contemplate marriage. Asking myself what it means for me, what it means for my future, what changes does it creates, what things do I release? I thought through the ceremony–in depth–to figure out how to make it feel holy, scared and equal. While we visited New York City for a few weeks, I joined the Siddha Yogis for Satsangs, chanting and meditations. I’ve contemplated and now I’m writing this blog. I have sat down with my fiancé and had a handful of tough conversations where we brought up questions and possible future problems as we gave ourselves our own “marriage prep counseling.”

I feel exponentially better and truly can’t believe I was going to get married without doing this work!  Still to come, I’d like to journal this process more and work through anything else that comes up. Continue to meditate on accepting this season of my life. That though I feel about 15 on the inside, it is in fact, time for me to move into the season of my life where I will be a wife and mother. I need to spend some time in grief, and mourning the loss of my single life, leaving the life of being only a child, a daughter, a girlfriend–before the responsibilities and growing pains of becoming a wife and mother. Moving through the grieving, and into acceptance with grace, and then by the wedding day, peace, joy, and pure bliss in joining my freedom to Jonathan’s freedom. We are going to form a team and make a difference in the world–more of a difference that we could on our own.

I’ll toast to that. I may even change my name for that.

Through it all, I’ll still be spreading the word–tough–challenging–taboo though it may be, and starting much needed conversations in the world–igniting change and evolution as…


Love & bliss to you all.

Fight or flight: When to stand our ground and when to walk away.

I have often asked myself when is the right time to stand up and not take any more crap from someone! Of course I am usually asking myself this when I am right smack dab in a situation that demands this decision, i.e. in the middle of taking a lot of crap from someone. (I’m … Continue reading

We made it through the challenge…Summin it up!

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Well, time sure flies when your having fun! Our two months flew by in St. Thomas as we worked at Point Wellness, I teaching yoga and J giving massages. I got to make delicious foods at the delectable Barefoot Buddha Cafe and J headed up the kid’s Shakespeare Festival for Pistarkle Theatre for the second … Continue reading

Half way through the challenge!

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Here we are, already half way through our time on the island this time around. The weather has been beautiful and as I type this from my kitchen table, I have breeze blowing through the screen doors and a lovely view of the Pillsbury Sound–a place where the Caribbean Ocean meets the Atlantic. We are … Continue reading