A Waking World? #midterms #equality

Image by Arek Socha from Pixabay

As I sit here in the midst of sorting through the aftermath of the midterms elections in the United States, which are still proving to be not very united, my mind is filled with my own polarizing thoughts. Glimmers of light have cropped up across the nation: Massachusetts has appeared to have elected their first woman and openly gay governor, Maryland, their first black man, and Fetterman has defeated Trump’s henchman, Oz in Pennsylvania. Yes, there is hope. Hope that we can continue to step in the direction of equality not just for humanity, but for this larger ecosystem we are all a part.

Last night I had an impromptu dinner with my sister and her children. It was an historic day. Her son, 18, voted in his first election. I am so proud of the younger generations who are making their voices heard. My daughter, who is studying in London this year, crossed the pond to cast her vote early. In the background, the news through NPR is being projected through my kitchen speaker. A few moments ago, a young man was featured. His voice clear and strong, but not without force. Instead, there was the strength of conviction, of confidence, intelligence, and compassion. His is the voice of masculinity balanced by compassion and empathy.

There are so many in the younger generations who are speaking up, and voting, for a better world. A world where all are treated equal, where women’s reproductive rights are basic human rights, where diversity is embraced and the planet, this home we all share, is respected as a living body that is worthy of respect and nurturing. Yes, I am still hopeful, perhaps even more than hopeful, that as we continue on with our lives we will grow a unifying respect for all life, not just for our own personal interest.

I’m still, though, on the fence about Florida. One cannot help but wonder if they really do want to sink into the ocean. They’re certainly heading rapidly in that direction. Some of them may not live long enough to see it, but…

A Reminder of Origin #yoga #toxic-masculinity #unity-consciousness

A pond in Hooksett, NH that was a delightful destination to a nature walk with my husband. A popular path for many, yet walked with a reverence that holds the landscape with peace and joy.

If I go back to the origin of my blog’s title and consider the impetus of the name, I am reminded of the pulse behind the darkness. We are, undeniably, immersed in a time of chaos that can be over-whelming. More often than I’d like to, I find myself considering whether we are a World Gone Mad.

These days I can count insanity by just one degree of separation, sometimes less. On Sunday I conversed with a colleague who was trying to find her grounding after bearing witness to the aftermath of a senseless shooting: A father shot dead by a young man, unrelated. Two kids left behind to watch it from a car’s window.

In my hometown, the community FB page is filled with comments about a man who took it upon himself to drain an entire pond, destroying a beaver dam and countless lives, so that he and his friends could ride their snowmobiles in winter. A season used to be, but is not often, without snow.

I cannot help but wonder if the world has gone mad. Next door, the neighbor who talked to me about love and community years ago as we both displayed our Obama signs with hope has, it seems, turned to the dark side. The opposite of hope and love, staked to her ground.

What is happening? Why is it so easy for us to fall into hatred and fear? Why is it so difficult for us to pause, consider, and breathe the light back into our collective story?

We are succumbing to our own madness through a belief that our world is spinning out of our control. Thinking, ever-foolishly, that we are here to control it. The land is mine to mold my way…

Instead of, I am of the Earth, and therefore a part of all life it nourishes.

Simple facts forgotten. Ignored.

I honor the light in you that is also in me. Therefore, I will do no harm.

I find myself turning to the land with every excuse I can muster. I have taken up foraging as a reason to walk into my wild home and find peace and connection. Belonging returns when the heart opens back to its origins. More than ever I have become a fervent believer that our salvation as humans will only return when we turn to the Earth with reverence. And through this return, find our origin. We are of the Earth, but not limited by it.

One vast body boundless

Yet we allow ourselves to be limited by our own myopic vision. We allow fear to establish our parameters and this fear grows to mistrust, which too often turns to hatred.

I find myself using the term “toxic masculinity” all too often, but there is a disturbing truth to this phrase. It is what kills the hope and love inside of us. It is rapidly seeking dominance again, as it has so often done in our collective history. Why are we afraid of the softening? Why are we afraid of vulnerability? Of surrender? Of love?

We are not truly held by walls and barricades. They are blocks. Temporary, but more often than not, dangerous. They shut us out from the wider world. They block the light of life. They block the greater truth. They block the flow of energy that seeks our connection. They block our coming home to ourselves.

On Sunday, my colleague and I also spoke of this lose of connection. We are both yoga instructors, but our desire to thread this idea of union is not limited to the mat of practice. We spoke of Earth. Of nature and our connection to it. We spoke of how to bring the concepts of yoga, which share the teachings of all the ancient wisdoms, out into the community in a way that brings us home to ourselves through a reconnection with wonder and nature.

During one of my foraging walks with another friend, conversation led to physical education classes and how simple and effective it would be to switch the focus from competitive sports to exercises like nature walks. Imagine combining P.E. with science, writing, history, and, an inherent mindfulness. The possibilities turn from limiting, to limitless. It’s in some ways a radical shift in perspective, but it’s also a chance at our salvation. Each child given a sense of belonging instead of vying for one.

If we all had that sense of belonging, would we need to erect walls to separate? Would we need to point fingers and declare, “You are not good enough?”

True connection to one’s self and the greater “world,” unites. It is yoga. It is a coming home to the self and the self’s origins which, at its essence, is a limitless belonging.

One vast body, boundless

Happy Earth Birthday, Sue. We continue to miss you…#suevincent

Sue at Wayland’s Smithy on the last day we spent together.

For Sue

Sister of the wild moors

Daughter of the dragon stones

your body returned to the hills

but the winds hold the memory of you

the soft touch on the shoulder

the voice, sometimes a whisper, sometimes

a howl, never leaves. Oh winged one 

what does it feel like to fly

again, over the land you love?

How long does it take to trace the tracks

back to the stars? The world beyond wonder

opened full, no longer a yearning, but home

In the days after my daughter flies away to London #college #leavinghome

Image by Jürgen from Pixabay

We left her at the airport the day after the apples in our favorite orchard were ready to be picked. Two days later, the peaches on our tree would begin to yield to our tug. Before she left, I was already starting a tally of what she would miss. Or maybe, If I am honest, it was more about what I would miss.

My daughter, who arrived in this world with eyes wide open and determined to take in fully the life laid out before her, was more ready to leave than I was to let her go. Even if it meant flying over the ocean to begin college in a city that she had only visited for one rather hectic day eight years ago. It was not the drop-off I would created if I could create it for us, but it was fitting for the way my daughter has chosen to take on this life she has been given. My winged girl always knowing how to soar, even when it was a struggle for me to release her.

I spent half of yesterday, three days after her departure, cleaning her room. The house was quiet. My husband at work, my son at school, only the pets to keep complete solitude at bay. It took me the better part of the morning. I went through two handfuls of rags and filled the washer three times to release the dust of more than a dozen years from the blankets and forgotten garments wedged underneath and on the side of her bed. Okay, maybe it wasn’t that bad, but nearly.

I took my time placing the gray flannel sheets with snowflakes on her bed. Pulling the edges tight around a mattress that would not be slept in before December. I nearly forgot about summer as I piled on her holiday pillows and folded the colors of Christmas at the foot of her bed. Before she left, my daughter asked if I would go through her binders and folders from her last year of high school, but I told her I would do more than that. Instead of leaving her room untouched, just how she would have kept it had she been home to use it, I knew I needed to clean it. The release had to be as full and complete as I could make it.

I didn’t want her to feel held back. Even from 3,000 miles away. Even from London, I knew she would feel my tug. So I cleaned and tried to think about how much she would appreciate coming home to order free of dust. To having her closet and shelves sorted, and her desk and bureau free of clutter. Her bed made with clean sheets meant to keep in the warmth.

Despite the calendar reminding me that we still had nearly three weeks of summer left, I tugged the air conditioner out of her window, and swiped the dust cloth across its surface before I tucked it into the newly vacuumed corner of her closet. I noticed the gray film on the window frames, grabbed a clean cloth and the glass cleaner to wipe them clear.

It was nearly noon by the time I untied the sashes from her curtains and pulled them to the center of her closet. To keep the dust out I told myself, but all I could see was a closed space. I lowered her windows by a couple of inches, left their shades up to keep the light in, then left my daughter’s door wide open as I exited her space. To keep the air fresh, I told myself.

During the night I woke often, as has become my habit this summer, to peer through the crack of my bedroom door to look for the light in her room. I didn’t see it until morning, when I knew it was time to get up and greet the day in whatever form it presented to me. I walked passed by daughter’s room and the door that had not been closed during the night, with a new load of laundry in my hands trying not to think about how different the lines of clothes would look outside drying in the sun.

The Dream of a Life #lifegoal #aspirations

To help build my vision into reality, I enjoy taking photos of “Wild Wonders.”

If you could dream anything into being what would it be? We all harbor secret longings and aspirations. There’s that needling, persistent urge inside of each of us that won’t let us go. Or maybe you have followed that needling and somehow brought your dream into reality. Whatever the story might be, I’d love to hear about it. Share it in the comments, send me it as a guest post, whatever pulls your heart toward joy…I’d love to hear about it. Let’s share those secret, or not so secret, longings that sometimes keep us up at night with all their wonderful “what ifs.”

My middle grade character Aponi is able to shape-shift into a monarch butterfly

My secret longings have changed over the years, but there have been some constants. There has always been a pull inside of me to help bring more beauty into the world to erase some of the darkness… These days there’s a nagging dream that follows me while I walk in the woods. It seeps into my dreams and shows me the full beauty of its wonderment. I don’t know if it will ever be realized, but maybe, just maybe someday I will see it transform into the daylight. When I envision it, it makes my heart sing. Isn’t that what all dreams without the nightmare are meant to do?

I have become particularly enraptured by the “Winged Wonders” around me.

I’m sharing my dream with you in the hopes that you will share yours too. That perhaps it will spark a light that grows a little stronger as we find the courage to find a home for each of our secret longings.

Here is the “dream” that fills me with the Wild Wonder of What-If:

Imagine a place, if you will, where people can go to find their own wild wonder. Where we are moved to step outside the confines of structure and conformity to find that home inside the heart where we realize we are a part of everything that surrounds us. It is a place where nature runs wild and free and where we are reminded of home. That we are not separated from, but a part of the whole, and the natural world that surrounds us.

This winged beauty reminds me of Sue, who seems to be ever-present as I “dream.”

In my dream there are “centers” where people can explore wild wonder and what it means to them. They are places where the inner child opens to joy and finds home inside the self and all that surrounds it. Perhaps that center offers classes and workshops, or maybe it is simply a gateway to nature. The only rules are kindness and compassion. Both for the self, and for our surroundings.

Winged Joy

It is perhaps a movement, more than a place. A reconnection to our roots. The knowing that we are not just of the Earth and all that exists, but a part of it.

Because I’m writing a middle grade book series that very much centers around this concept, my dream includes the heroes of my books and their passions. At the centers I envision:

  • Sula’s Library of Wonderful Reads
  • Aponi’s Field of Pollinator Delights
  • Shesha’s Meditation & Mindfulness Maze
  • Lupe’s Local Eats Organic Cafe
  • Dell’s Fantastic Fairy Gardens & Pools
  • Ari’s Adventure Walks in the Woods

And so much more…

It’s fun to dream about what we want to create, but creating can be a challenge. I am trying to bring my vision forth in steps. Writing the book series is one of them. My husband and I talk about where we might live someday when our kids are out of college, and I can envision the first center perhaps beginning at that place. After all, my ideas for the centers arose out of a walk I took with him on the 4th of July. Somehow we landed at a place that perfectly suited this vision. It had, already, all the foundations of the elements I saw in the vision. The property, though, was not for sale. That’s okay, we’re not ready to move.

The Volcano, the Vikings, and the Sea: Our last stops along the Reykjanes Peninsula #Iceland #travel

After leaving the Seltun Geothermal Field, we headed up the road to visit the Fagradalsfjall’s 2021 Eruption site. Had we know we would have had more time to spare, we would likely have made our trip into more of a hike. Instead, we parked at the lot below the volcano’s base, scanned the QR code to pay, and headed out to explore the still-steaming lava field.

Even at the base of the lava field, the landscape is unstable and there are signs warning visitors not to step on the lava least they fall through or get burned. You can see areas where the surface has caved in and there are still mini steam vents.

You can see the wisps of steam rising from the cooling lava in this video.


It’s worth a trip to the site of the eruption if you are exploring the peninsula. According to the travel guides, it’s at least a 45 minute hike to get a good view of the volcano, but clearly you could spend a good half-day here as there are tours offering 5-hour excursions. We didn’t want to sacrifice too much time, so we spent about a half-hour walking around its base and then followed the dragon line to the ocean.

The head of the dragon over-looks the ocean. There are warnings at its base not to walk along its neck, but people still do.

The coast along the peninsula is perhaps not as stunning as the more famous areas along the South Coast, but still quite beautiful. Please click through the slide show to see some of the views we experienced during our stop.

It was rather blustery and chilly during out visit to see the ocean, but we did spend some time walking around and taking it the splendor of the rugged rocks where seabirds make their nests, and watched the wave’s relentless massage of the land.

We knew the Viking World Museum would be closing soon after we finished our visit at the coast, so we made it our last stop before we turned in our car. We timed it just in time for a tour-bus, though. Because of this, we spent just as much time outside the museum as we did inside, but building sits nearby the harbor, offering beautiful views.

The museum itself is not large, most of its space is taken up by the viking ship, which is its main attraction. A half-hour is sufficient to walk through it, more time is worthwhile if you are a viking fan and want to read more about the history of the culture and the artifacts that are housed in the museum. There are some turf houses outside the museum, but their doors are locked. Only about a mile from the airport, the Viking World Museum is a logical stop before you depart from the Land of Fire and Ice. As it was, we had ample time to spare, and found ourselves wishing we had perhaps spent a little more time at the volcano.

Driving the Reykjanes Peninsula to Kleifarvatn Lake and the Seltun Geothermal Field #Iceland #travel

Since we had a late flight home, my husband and I decided to make the most out of our last day in Iceland by driving around the Reykjanes Peninsula, where Keflavik Airport is located. The drive is lovely, with the exception of the sulfur smell that pervades the air as you drive. At times it can be quite over-whelming. The peninsula is filled with geothermal activity and hosts the famous Blue Lagoon, the geothermal wastewater container turned major tourist attraction/spa.

We opted not to join the throngs of tourists at this man-made wonder, and instead we made our way south down Rt 42 from Reykjavik. It’s not a large peninsula, and it doesn’t take long to reach the first stop worth pulling over, Kleifarvatn Lake.

Kleifarvatn Lake is bordered by black sands and stunning volcanic hills.

The lake is stunning, and well-worth pulling over to take in its beauty, and capture a few memories in photographs. Although there is no formal road leading down to the water, there are cars that ignore the signs and drive down to the water’s edge. We pulled over with other tourists in one of the lots over-looking the lake to take our photos and selfie.

The contrasting colors and contours of the landscape make for a breath-taking spot.

Although our stay beside the lake was brief, we were glad we did not miss the splendor of this gem inside the peninsula.

Our selfie at the lake

After taking photographs from different angles to capture the lake’s beauty, we headed back down Rt 42 towards the Seltún geothermal field.

The Seltún Geothermal Field

The smell of sulfur greets you before you pull up to the parking lot at the Seltún Geothermal Field. The odor of the landscape, along with its colors and textures, gives you the feel that you are somewhere other than Earth.

The bubbling red-gray of the barren hillside of Seltún contrasts with its lush green surroundings.

To be quite honest, I found the area difficult to navigate, not due to the terrain, but because of the over-whelming odor of sulfur. If you are sensitive to the smell, you may want to consider wearing a mask. I found myself covering my nose with the sleeve of my coat as we walked through the smelliest areas. Aside from the odor, though, the area is quite intriguing and, in some ways, beautiful with its steaming pewter-colored steams meandering through red sands.

The other-worldly landscape of Seltún is worth at least a brief pause to take in before you continue your walk.

We followed the paths along the main area of the field up into the hillside, where you you can see some more geothermal vents as well as gorgeous views of the surrounding area. Click through for a glimpse of the rest of our visit to Seltún.

Do take care if you walk up the hillside. The terrain can be quite slippery and steep. We had plenty of its red clay stuck to our shoes afterwards, and saw some visitors cleaning it off theirs in the cool stream that descends from its summit. We opted to clap ours off as best we could before we got back into our car and headed towards our next stop, a still-steaming volcano…

Our Last Stop of the South Coast: Homes in the Hillside #

As we departed from the glacier, we debated the time, which was now approaching 6pm, took in the low-hanging clouds, and weighed our reserves of energy. Deciding it was not worth the further drive south to see a misty and very overcast black sand beach, we headed back towards our home base. We had two more stops we wanted to make along the way back, and those were to visit the homes in the hillsides we had seen during our drive south.

There are several caves in the rocks along the south coast, several of which are on private land but open to visitors.

Two sites along our route featured signs that welcomed visitors, Drangurinn and Rútshellir. I believe both are on private land, and there are donation boxes near their entrances.

Many legends have risen from these mysterious dwellings, including stories of horrific murders, magical temples, and places where the hidden folk reside and might even be viewed. I did get a particular “feel” while visiting the Rútshellir cave, in particular, and even captured a mysterious green light while photographing it. But first here’s a glimpse of the Drangurinn dwellings that are accessible to tourists. They have been built-up with wooden structures over time, which are now mostly collapsing, but one can peek into some of their interiors and contemplate what it might have been like to live there.

As mentioned, I found the Rútshellir caves to be particularly intriguing. Visitors can walk into their interiors and get a real feel for the place. Apparently even the Nazis were intrigued by these caves, convinced they were once a sacred temple and held secrets they could possibly decode. Whatever they were used for over the years, the caves still hold an aura of mystery and intrigue. I like to think the hidden folks haunt these hills and find shelter in the caves. Hidden by most who peer into them, but not by all…

Did you see the green light in one of the photos? What do you think?

Following the Clouds from a Waterfall to a Rapidly Retreating Glacier #iceland #Sólheimajökull #climatechange

It was fitting to have the clouds linger over the landscape as we left Skogafoss and headed further down the south coast of Iceland to visit the Sólheimajökull glacier. Before you are able to get a good view of the glacier and its beauty, you are greeted with a small post indicating how much the glacier has melted in a short period of time. The glacier retreats the size of an olympic swimming pool each year. It is a sobering thought to say the least as one contemplates our intrusion on the land and how much we have altered the fate of all life on Earth.

The view of Sólheimajökull from nearby the parking lot

I couldn’t help but think about how much our collective feet have pressed against time as I walked the landscape of black lava stone to get a glimpse of what remains of Sólheimajökull. I was yet another intruder from afar, here to selfishly take in the wild beauty of a land that is poignantly feeling the effects of climate change.

The ever-expanding base beneath Sólheimajökull Glacier is stunning and bleak.

My attempts to capture a bit of the wild beauty of Sólheimajökull as a testament of all that could be lost without a concerted global effort to change our selfish ways, served to remind me of my own actions. Like many countries, Iceland is making concerted efforts to reduce and sequester carbon emissions. Although we did not have the option of renting an electric car when we reserved our very-efficient econobox, we were impressed with the number of electric vehicles we saw on the road, as well as how accessible it is to walk and bike in the more densely populated areas. And, although Iceland does not, by nature, have an abundance of trees, more and more are being planted to the government and individuals.

The area around the glacier is a good example of Iceland’s harsh, rocky landscape, but there are places that are much more amenable to trees.

When we visit these fragile landscapes we can take in their beauty, but also their vulnerability. We can be reminded of our own impact, our collective impact, and contemplate the ways we can move towards further change to preserve and protect our planet and its landscape.

The ever-increasing length of the walk to the glacier allows for contemplation. The edge of its ice sheet used to reach the parking lot…

I couldn’t help but wonder about our future and what sort of landscape the next generations of children will be greeted with as I approached the glacier cap and began to take in its still mighty expanse and beauty.

The glacier is covered with volcanic dust, and sits atop an active volcano. The black dust against the blue ice enhances the melancholic feel of the place. As with all sites that welcome tourists in Iceland, one is advised to take caution and obey the signs. Glacier are a place to see changes in real-time, and as we approached the base of the Sólheimajökull we could see its drips of melting ice.

As we were not equipped to hike the glacier, we just walked a short distance on the ice. Here you could see its steady drip of water.

The feeling of reverence and guilt pervades your thoughts as you watch Sólheimajökull’s ice give way to water filling its lagoon.

The Icebergs in Sólheimajökull’s lagoon are not very large, and keep getting smaller.

Please click through the short slide show of additional photos to get some more glimpses of Sólheimajökull’s fragile beauty.