Ambiguity and Prayer: A Lesson in Tapas

“ I should not make any promises right now,

But I know if you


Somewhere in this world—

Something good will happen.”—Hafiz

As seen on Instagram at meditation.quotes


            “So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.”—Isaiah 41:10


Ambiguity. I stare at the black and white print.   Within the word I see small words: “am,” “big,” “’u’, also known as, ‘you’.” I arrange the words. Play with them. “You are big.” “I am big.” “Big, you are.” “Big, I am.” Big, big, big . . ..


Problems feel big. Illness feels big. Crisis feels big. Parenting feels big. Aging feels big. Financial struggles feel big. Education feels big. Currents news feels big. Violence feels big. Sadness feels big.  Depression feels big.  Big, big, big . . .translates into hard, hard, hard.


“You are big.” “I am big.”

As seen on Instagram at spiritual movement


One part of my yoga teacher training homework for this month states, “Tapas” (Which literally means “heat,” but also translates into discipline and commitment–as best I understand it.) “’Just feel it!’ Use discipline to stay committed to the path, and use tapas to direct your anger in positive ways.”   Anger often feels hot. Discipline can feel hot too, but also soothing.

As seen on Instagram at spiritualist_within


Tina, one of my yoga instructors, recently stated, “I believe you must pray daily and often. Meditation is important, but so is prayer.” I am paraphrasing, but basically she added that prayer is not about a wish list, but more about gratitude and an attitude of, “Thy will be done.” Sometimes gratitude, and the ambiguity of “Thy will be done,” is hard.


Tapas. Heat. Discipline.




Recently, I shared with my husband, John, a personal struggle I was experiencing with an acquaintance.   I explained that I could sense her negative energy, and even anger, when she was around me. “I want to apologize for whatever wrong I have caused her, but I honestly don’t know what I did.”


John’s reply was simple and direct, “Pray for her.”


And so I did.

As seen on heartcenteredrebalancing


One month later, this same acquaintance was seemingly happier, lighter, and more at ease. She even approached me to thank me. Unbeknownst to me, she overheard me giving one of her close friends the same advice John had given me. This friend asked me about how to handle a person who was set in their ways and would seemingly never embrace the faith-filled path she was now embodying. I shared with her what John had told with me, “Pray for that person.” Adding, “it might not change that person, but perhaps it might change the way in which you view and relate to him or her.”


The acquaintance who was confessing to overhearing my comments explained that a light bulb went off in her mind. She described a bit of her own personal struggles; and added, “So I just said a prayer, and went for a walk. When I came back, I had a long awaited text on my phone.”


As seen on Instagram at positivenergyalways


Then, she thanked me, and spent the next few minutes describing to me in great detail, all of the ambiguity surrounding her due to an upcoming major procedure and potential life change. “I just turned it over to my Higher Power, and you helped me get there. Thank you.”


By turning over my anxiety and false assumptions regarding this person to my faith, I released the notion that somehow I was in control of her actions, her feelings. While I had been indeed, sensing negative energy in this person, it had nothing to do with me, and everything to do with the ambiguity of the situation into which she was being thrown—one of life’s unexpected curveballs. When I focused less on the ambiguity I thought was surrounding her, and disciplined my mind and heart to direct my energy, instead, to the great, “I am,” the ambiguity still remained, but we were both released to feel, accept, and allow our faith to embrace us.


As seen on Instagram at bodymovejoy


When I was young, my prayers were often the selfish prayers of a personal wish-list; such, “Please let me pass this test. Please let me get a job. Please keep my car running . . ..” As I have aged, I have certainly offered more prayers of gratitude, but my wish list is still present—only now, I convince myself it isn’t selfish because my prayers are most often my wish list for others.


“Please give Maddie (my daughter) both mental and physical strength;” or, “Please watch over my parents, my husband, my siblings, my loved ones,” and so forth. I am not saying these are “bad” prayers, but it is still my attempt to control. “Hey God, let me tell you how it should be, because I am pretty good at taking charge; and, in case you haven’t noticed, I have the perfect plan for you to follow.”


The bigness, the vastness of God, the Great “I Am” is even bigger and warmer than spring sunshine.


As I stared at that word, “ambiguity,” it all came together, then hit me like a strong, blustery March wind. Tapas is faith in a nutshell—embracing the heat of the unknown, the uncertainty, the unexplained—and our prayers are the disciplined connection to our Creator, a Higher Power that is so big, so vast, and beyond what we can conceive. Therefore, even when our prayers are a wish list, it is still okay as we are brought into communion with that that is so big. “I am big. I, too, am ambiguous, but I am omnipresent and all-pervading, enveloping you in my palms that are so big, so big . . .they contain you, your struggles, and all that is and ever will be.”


Life can feel like the messiness of a bird’s nest, but just as this nest is still able to envelope the baby birds and mama bird, so too can the vastness of God support us.


Most of life events are ambiguous. We think we are in control of time and space, but life events are God’s way of reminding us, “I am big. Have faith in my bigness.” The heat of life, really, is a way of demanding tapas, the discipline to pray more as well as rely on faith more. In turn, the discipline of faith and prayer taps into the greatness of, “I am.”

As seen on Instagram at positiveaffirmations101










Low-carb, gluten-free pumpkin risotto

“I will defend pumpkin until the day I die. It’s delicious. It’s healthy. I don’t understand the backlash. How did pumpkin become this embarrassing thing to love, but bacon is still the cool flavor to add to everything? I don’t have anything against bacon; just don’t come after pumpkin like it’s a crime to love an American staple.”—Anna Kendrick, Scrappy Little Nobody




Personally, I agree with the above passage. I, too, love pumpkin and eat it year-round! Pumpkin cookies, pumpkin muffins, pumpkin oatmeal, pumpkin pie, oh my! It is a versatile food worth eating year ‘round—especially since canned pumpkin is always available. Plus, I love pumpkin seeds too, but that is another story for another recipe!




Another versatile food I have fallen in love with is riced cauliflower. It is like a white canvas. It can be seasoned and combined in a multitude of ways. From smoothies to salads, from Asian-inspired stir-fries to Tex-Mex influences, and from hearty bowl-based dishes to plated mashed sides, riced cauliflower is one of the most versatile foods with which I cook! This recipe takes its versatility in a new and exciting direction—at least to me!




I like making this recipe ahead, and then packing it my workday lunch. It makes for a warm, cozy meal that makes lunchtime seem a bit more special than my usual cold salad and/or veggie sticks. I also like to make this ahead, and then eat it for breakfast! Yep, you read that right, breakfast. Why not start my day with vegetables. If I can add riced cauliflower to my smoothie, why not eat pumpkin risotto for breakfast?




Finally, this dish can also serve as a tasty side-dish for any meat-based meal. Serve it along side your favorite grilled fish, chicken or steak—add salad, and yummo! Additionally, it makes a great addition to a bowl—if you like creating bowl meals as I do—this is a perfect base to a jam-packed nutritional bowl! In fact, one night, I used it as a base and simply added stuffed mushroom on top. It was amazing!



From my home to yours, I wish you happy, healthy, and homemade meals.


Low Carb, Gluten-free Pumpkin Risotto


2 tablespoons olive oil (If you prefer cooking oil-free, use equivalent amount of favorite broth.)

¼ cup diced onion

Salt & pepper to taste

1-teaspoon paprika

12-ounce bag riced cauliflower

¼ cup favorite type broth

½ cup pureed pumpkin (or butternut squash)

¼ cup Parmesan cheese (or nutritional yeast if want vegan version)

¼ cup fresh chopped parsley or frozen peas—if desired for color contrast


In a large saucepan on medium heat, add olive oil, onion, salt, pepper, and paprika.

Stir until onion has softened and become translucent.

Stir in cauliflower until thoroughly combined.

Gently pour in broth, stir, and cover with lid.

Allow to simmer (gently bubble) 10-15 minutes. (You may need to stir occasionally to ensure cauliflower is not sticking to bottom of pan.)

Stir in pumpkin (or butternut squash) puree.

Then add Parmesan (or nutritional yeast).

Continue stirring and cooking until cauliflower is soft and mixture is thick like warm pudding.

Stir in parsley or peas if desired as well as more salt and pepper if needed.

Serve warm.


Makes 2-4 side servings (depending upon how big serving), or one huge meal-bowl!

Remembering Lt. Col. Huston, Hero and Mentor to Many

As seen on Instagram at positveenergyalways


            “No person was ever honored for what he received. Honor has been the reward for what he gave.”—Calvin Coolidge


The year was 1987. 21 years wise and freshly graduated from college, I was ready to begin my teaching career.   After making the long walk from the main part of the building that contained classrooms and administrative offices, through the cafeteria, past the concession stands area used during basketball season, through the entire length of the gym, up the back stairway that led to the underside of gym bleachers, through two other makeshift classrooms, separated by rolling chalkboards, I finally arrived in my “classroom.” I sighed, in a state of shock and dismay.


As seen on google free-stock images.


One “wall” was literally the underbelly of the gymnasium bleachers. Another “wall” was the rolling chalkboards by which I had passed. A third wall, across from the bleachers, was a painted concrete wall stained with yellow mold; and, the final wall, was a padded medal door that I would later learn was filled with weapons used by the Greenup County High School ROTC students. And, with those students would enter a man I would come to know as Marine retired Lt. Col. Vance Huston—a man I would consider a mentor during my first year of teaching and during his last year as an educator.


However, on that first day, weeks before students arrived, I looked around this so-called room and wondered if I had made a huge mistake. Was this the job meant for me? How could I ever be expected to teach in such dismissal surroundings with no window or source of natural light? I sat and stared. This was not the setting for which I prepared in the idyllic world of textbooks, professors, and idealistic future teachers.


Nonetheless, I threw back my shoulders and began the task of cleaning, tidying, and arranging the room as best I could. I was able to hang a few colorful posters/charts on the two-door metal cabinet that stood along the concrete wall, stacked a few battered textbooks that my 9-12 grade special educations students were supposed to use, as well as a few of my own reference books. I would make the best of the situation.


Thinking determined thoughts on that long ago end-of-July-day, I was startled by a man quietly entering my room.   While I do not recall his exact words, I do remember his kind, twinkling eyes and warm smile. He said something about the fact that he wasn’t used to seeing teachers in their classrooms so early before the start of school. Then, he introduced himself as, “Col. Huston,” and offered his hand to shake.


As photographed by Kevin Goldy and published in the March 3 edition of The Daily Indepedent.


He was relaxed, confident, and warm. Sitting on the top of a student desk, he began asking questions, seemingly eager to figure out who I was. As I answered, I remember the way he would nod his head and simultaneously close his eyes as if trying remember each word I stated. He smiled frequently, and continued to engage me with questions.


After asking numerous questions, he launched into a personal story meant to serve as a mini-life lesson for me. That was the beginning of what would become a nearly daily occurrence at the end of each school day.


“Ms. Musick, how are you today?”


“Ms. Musick, did the kids treat you well?”


“Ms. Musick, how are you getting along?”


“Ms. Musick, how are you liking it here?”


No matter what question with which he began our conversation (after he was certain the padded door to the weapons rooms was locked and secure) he managed to turn my answer into a story/mini-lesson.


As seen on Instagram at heartcenteredrebalancing.


During these conversations, he revealed he was originally from and educated in California, and that I, too, must one day acquire a Masters Degree in Education as he had earned. He frequently talked of his Marine service that followed, for which he was commissioned in 1955. Never once, however, did he reveal that he was White House Helicopter support for Presidents Eisenhower, Kennedy, and Johnson from 1960-1964. He did certainly share that he flew Marine C-130s during two tours of Vietnam from 1965 (the year in which I was born) to 1970. And, while I knew he had survived a horrific helicopter crash that ultimately served as a vehicle for his deeply convicted faith, I never realized how bad the crash was until recently viewing the picture of mangled, twisted, and warped metal that was once the helicopter from which he, and the other men, miraculously walked away.


After his service in Vietnam, Lt. Col. Huston was a Commanding Officer of a wing equipment and repair squadron at Cherry Point, North Carolina. Next, he served as Executive Officer, Marine barracks, Subic Bay, Philippines. Finally, he rounded out his Marine service in Public Affairs at Marine Headquarters, Pentagon. Even with all his honors and experience, he spoke more often about his love for his wife, his children, his extended family, and his profound faith than anything else.


As originally ran in The Daily Independent and printed in the funeral home remembrance.


No matter what had occurred during a school day, I could count on Lt. Col. Huston to end my day with a smile. On days I was down, from lack of appropriate supplies, facilities, or plain of feeling isolated and lonely, Lt. Col. Huston was there to offer a quick story and smile. I never shared with him how lonely I felt that year, but I think he knew. In fact, I am fairly certain he was responsible for ensuring that one of the Assistant principals, Mr. Lyles, invited me to his office at least twice a month for coffee to “see how I was doing.”


When I began to show an interest in running and biking as a hobby, Lt. Col. Huston encouraged me. He offered tips as he was an avid runner, running 5-6 miles at a time, several days a week. In fact, it wasn’t unusual to drive down US 23 and see Lt. Col. Houston running alongside the road in grey sweatpants and a grey sweatshirt. Fitness, he stated, was an important discipline for the mind, body, and soul.


A picture taken of me biking by John in 1988–an activity/hobby Lt. Col. Huston encouraged.



Near the end of my first year of teaching, I shared with him that I had met man for whom I felt deep love and affection. His eyes truly shone then. From that point on, he gave me daily advice on how to make a relationship work and how to, one day, be a good parent.


“Put your spouse and children first. That is the key.”


After my first year at GCHS, Lt. Col. Huston retired, but he would regularly drop by school for visits just to, “see how I was getting along.” When he learned of my engagement to my now husband of nearly 30 years, he simply smiled and said he hoped I was as blessed as he had been in the love of his wife.


My husband, John Hill, and me on our wedding day, June 14, 1989. We were honored by the attendance of Lt. Col. Huston in his Marine dress blues.


June of 1989, Lt. Col. Huston honored me by making the 45-60 minute drive to attend my wedding in South Point, Ohio. He was stunning in his Marine dress blues. For a wedding present, he gave my husband and me an electric carving knife attached with a note of advice: “The words of the reckless pierce like a sword, but the words of the wise brings healing.”—Proverbs 12:18


Nearly 30 years later, we still have the electric knife Lt. Col. Huston gave us.


Lt. Col. Huston recently flew, this time on eagle’s wings, to meet his Creator, on March 1 of this year. He was 85 years old.




On March 7, my husband, John, and I made the 45-60 minute drive to pay our respects to his wife, Ella Mae, of 65 years, and the rest of his family. I learned upon his retirement from GCHS, he had not stopped mentoring others. His ministry continued through service to Meal-on-Wheels, Prison Ministry at the Federal Penitentiary in Summit, Bible study groups in the Greenup Country Detention Center, Gideon’s International, and at his beloved house of worship, Green County Methodist Church.



I was blessed to have been under Lt. Col. Huston’s watchful eye, even for a short time; and based on the number of people attending his viewing—there were hundreds, if not thousands more, that could also consider their lives enriched because of this honorable man.


May Lt. Col. Huston’s wings of faith eternally fly as inspiration and example to all.


As seen on Instagram at positiveaffirmations101.





Circle of Pain vs. the Kingdom of God: Lessons in santosha aka contentment



            “Great is Thy faithfulness,” O God my Father, There is no shadow of turning with Thee; Thou changest not, Thy compassions, they fail not– As Thou hast been, Thou forever wilt be.”—Thomas Obediah Chisholm


I have recently been wrestling with the notion of contentment—more to the point—having faith that turn-of-events and/or daily circumstances are occurring as they should be; and simply leaning in to say, “Yes,” to all experience, rather than resist or attempt to change/modify it. In fact, in addition to numerous readings and other assignments for this month, one part of my yoga teacher training homework is to practice santosha, which is Sanskrit for contentment. I have been asked to: notice when I feel content; find small spaces of contentment in the busyness of life; and contemplate on how this feels.


This is a challenging concept for me because, as I most recently shared, I like to attach to “The Story of How Life Should Occur” as written by the great-all-knowing Stephanie Hill. Examples of these sure-to-be best selling titles include, but are not limited to: My own child should not have suffered as she did all through her senior year of high school. My mother-in-law should not have suffered an excruciating end-of-life. My parents should not have to face the painful issues that come from aging; and, as a matter of fact, neither should my husband and I. Friends, co-workers, and loved ones should not have to experience painful events. My students should not have to struggle with learning new concepts. The world should not be filled with violent rhetoric and actions. Honestly, how can any of us experience contentment when life is often filled with much pain and suffering?


Children should not grow up so quickly, becoming a grandparent should not occur too quickly, and my parents should have to deal with the aches and pains of aging–for that matter neither should my husband and I!


“Summer and winter, and springtime and harvest, Sun, moon and stars in their courses above, Join with all nature in manifold witness To Thy great faithfulness, mercy, and love.”


I was exiting the school in which I teach on a recent cloudy, rainy afternoon while mulling over this notion of contentment.   As I happened to be exiting the building at 5:00 pm, a set of church bells began chiming an old hymn, “Great is Thy Faithfulness.” I smiled instinctively because I have always loved that song.


“How fortunate it is to work at a school near an old church that still plays these great hymns like the church bells to which I once listened in Raceland, KY so many years ago whenever I stayed with my grandparents.”


I drifted into a brief moment of reverie harkening to all the beautiful moments when at 8:00 am, noon, and 5:00 pm those Raceland church bells would chime in the background of my childhood through young adult days. Scenes, scents, and sounds flashed through my mind’s eye before it occurred to me, “Was this a moment of contentment?” I paused in the middle of the parking lot, rain drip-dropping around me, and focused on the melody until the last note was played. Then, I peacefully sighed and entered my car for the ride home.

My grandparents’ home in which I spent over 30 years listening to hymns chimed by nearby church bells at daily, regular intervals.


Pardon for sin and a peace that endureth, Thine own dear presence to cheer and to guide; Strength for today and bright hope for tomorrow, Blessings all mine, with ten thousand beside!”


Later that week, I was struggling through an incredibly long day. I was tired, physically and mentally, and fighting through some pain—that also happened to be both mental and physical. Driving home in the dark of the same evening, I turned on an audible book and just happened to hear a story about a woman who went to her priest weeping profusely as she unloaded all her worries and sorrows. When she was finally spent, he took one of her hands and drew a circle in the center of her palm with his finger. He told her that the circle represented the place where she was currently living with all of her very real pain and suffering. He explained that it could not be avoided, and she must let it be. Then, he covered her hands with his, asking her to remember there is a greatness and a wholeness in the Kingdom God; and, in this merciful space, her immediate life could unfold.


When experiencing pain and/or suffering, we must surrender into God’s mercy as it hold us and wraps around us much in the way this blanket is comforting and supporting my cat, Tippi Tail.


“This pain,” he added, as he touched the center of her palm, “is held always in God’s love.”

He added that as she began to know both the pain and the love, she would heal.

“By surrendering to your pain, you are surrendering to the mercy of an ever-loving God. The more you let go, the more you are held by the Infinite compassion of God.” I audibly sighed. Was this, yet, another moment of contentment?



That same long, grueling day, our school discovered unexpected disturbance to our playground:  a tree had been blown over by a storm the previous night, crushing part of the playground fence.  Of course, that “should” not have happened.


“Great is Thy faithfulness!” “Great is Thy faithfulness!” Morning by morning new mercies I see; All I have needed Thy hand hath provided—“Great is Thy faithfulness,” Lord, unto me!”


The next day, I talked at length by phone with my daughter, now in her second semester at Bethany College.

“Mom, I never realized how miserable I was last year,” she emphatically stated.

Our conversation continued, and I added that I had often wondered if she would have been better served with early entry into college after her second or third year of high school.

“No, Mom. As much as I hated that last year of school, I had to go through it in order to appreciate how much I love Bethany and the whole college experience.”


In other words, she, too, had to learn to let the pain be, and rely on Divine Providence, in order to heal and grow into a greater understanding.


My daughter, pictured in the floral dress, is positively glowing as she appreciates with greater clarity moments of joy.


Learning to say, “Yes,” to each of life’s moments: be it pain, sadness, impatience, depression, disappointment, injury/illness, loss, and so forth; or likewise, times of happiness, patience, joy, successes, wellness, and abundance is still a skill for which I think I must continue to work. In part, contentment means I must fall in love, not only with my life, but also with the Divine Mercy that carries each of us through the wide expanse of the human experience. Each day of life, I must remember, is complete–no matter what form it takes—and for each experience of life, I must be grateful.  And, perhaps, that is the key to contentment: gratitude.  Gratitude for each moment–irrespective to the life script I have written.













Flooding and Rebirth

            “The river is one of my favorite metaphors, the symbol of the great flow of Life Itself. The river begins at Source, and returns to Source unerringly. This happens every single time, without exception. We are no different.”—Jeffery. R. Anderson


Beginning in her first year of life, my husband, John, and I traveled frequently with our daughter, Madelyn. The road trips took us to locations all over the United States and several locations in Canada. It was common, when Maddie was a young girl, for her to break down and cry dolorously for an hour or so, on our return drive home from these trips.

The first time this occurred, I asked her, with great concern, what was wrong. She explained that she did not want the vacation experience to end, and she wanted to remain in the location in which we had stayed.   John and I would attempt to explain that the place would no longer seem special if we lived there. We further encouraged her to focus on all the good memories we created, and how wonderful it was to spend time together in such a special way. Despite our best efforts to cheer her, she was attached to her feeling, to her story. She had to cry as a way to release her grief and her attachment to the illusion that life should always be like vacation.


Maddie, pictured here with her cousin Johnny, on a trip to the Newport Aquarium. She cried when this trip was over.


Likewise, the Ohio River has risen due to frequent and heavy rains and snowmelt. In fact, the mighty Ohio has risen to such levels that I recently watched with great interest as the floodwall gates, along the Ohio River in Huntington, WV, were closed to the public and sturdy-looking metal inserts were tightly locked into place. Furthermore, streams, such as nearby Symmes Creek, a 76.4-mile-long tributary of the Ohio River in southern Ohio, began to overflow their banks and spill out into roadways making travel challenging if not impossible.




Numerous residents were trapped in their homes unable to report to work due to road closures. Those who could get to work were often spending double, or even triple, the amount of drive time traveling to and from work. Additionally, there were homes either destroyed or damaged by floodwaters. These stories filled the news each evening as more predictions of rain filled the weather headlines.


Even as the waters began to recede though, other negative concerns have arisen. Roads that were already pocked with the small potholes from the freeze-thaw cycle of winter are now burgeoning with ever expanding potholes caused by the erosion of floodwaters. Furthermore, trash, debris, refuse, and junk litter the river and stream banks as well as the roadways. While our tendency is to focus on such negative implications of floodwaters, we tend forget that by their nature, rivers flood. It is part of their natural process; and, yes, there are actually benefits of a flood.


As best I understand it, the right amount of flooding is good for the flood plain lands that are often used for agriculture. Flooding makes these grounds more fertile and productive by overflowing the soil with vital and enriching nutrients. In return, fresh nutrients from the soil are also infused back into the rivers, lakes, and streams thereby improving the vitality for the fish and other wild life contained within. Sometimes, floodwaters relocate fish and other living organisms into other water bodies. This often improves and brings increased balance into the ecosystem as new predators and prey species are introduced into the aquatic population. Floodwaters also recharge the groundwater, which has overall benefits for humans and wildlife alike. Finally, I have to believe that the powerful way in which floodwaters spew out the physical trash also offers an overall benefit to the health of the water. Despite these benefits, it is human nature for us to resist flooding in the same way Maddie sorrowfully resisted the transition from vacation to normal life.




Both of these stories are a metaphor to an issue with which I have been wrestling– attachment to the story: How life should flow as written by the great know-it-all Steph. Life, like the Ohio River, should flow smoothly and remain within its known boundaries. Sure, the river bends and curves, but you see those ahead of time and know how to prepare for them. The fallacy with my attachment to this story is that if I were to really examine the river, I would see that it is in state of continual change. Some changes are almost imperceptible while other changes occur dramatically and sometimes cataclysmically.


Like the flooding, life’s so called catastrophes, as bad, as awful, and as troubling as they can seem, often have a positive side—even if those positives may not be recognizable until years later. Sometimes, the benefit may be as simple as an enhanced appreciation for health, family, and/or friends, while other advantages may include a more resilient immune system, mind, or emotional-well being. In spite of all of Maddie’s tears at the end of a vacation, she still grew and gained insight from each new place visited; and, as a result, she is more knowledgeable, open-minded, and can adapt easily to new situations.


When we attach to the story of how things should be, we actually create more personal mental suffering and anguish. Thus, we often cry and/or mourn what we perceive as loss, losing sight of all the good and wondrous events occurring all around us. It is often through those watershed moments, life is infusing us with nutrient-rich experiences that greater inform us, introduce new people and understandings, create more balance and harmony, as well as clears mental and physical debris and clutter.


Meanwhile, during all of our collective worry and focus on the flooding, the cycle of life renewed itself. Spring peepers can now be heard at night, hyacinths have quietly bloomed, grass is beginning to grow, and our willow trees are sprouting new green leaves. When we detach from the story, we are able to see our watershed moments do indeed lead to our own spring-like renewal and return to us our source in the same way the river starts and ends at its source.

While much of our collective focus was on the rising waters, grass began to grow, spring peepers began their nocturnal chirpings, and our willow tree began to sprout new green leaves.


As seen on heartcenteredrebalancing on Instagram.