Sometimes, I don’t know how to put a response into words or describe how I feel about things in-the-moment. On a certain crisp Fall morning, I sat with words exchanged a few days before. As I hot glued down needles, a beautiful and fragile web formed. I gently dropped in pieces of handmade papers my aunt had given me and blew tiny feathers in, watching to see how they moved through the scene. I laughed at myself when I tried to predict, with hands shaking from caffeine, where a drop of glue or piece of paper would land. Or how far a tiny glue string would stretch. Afterwards, I felt a great comfort and knew what to say. My reply was this process and piece.

Last week, I spent 9 days in the woods of Massachusetts earning Level 1 Mindful Outdoor Guide certification at Kripalu Center For Yoga & Health in Stockbridge, MA <insert many expletives about how beautiful that area is at this time of year!!> . Our classroom was the forest and I was joined by ~50 people that get as excited as I do at things like the sight of a patch of vibrant moss.

I went looking for a framework to better describe what the hell I am doing when I’m outdoors ogling nature in order to better answer questions like “What do you do?”, “What’s your medium?“, “Can you lead me in meditation?”, “Can I join you when you’re building things in the woods sometime?” and other questions of the sort that I typically respond back with a blank stare and “UUUUHHhhhhhhhhhh.”

I looked locally for programs, but found them primarily focused on “the great outdoors.” You know, out where you have to put effort into going. Hiking, backpacking, identifying plants and animals, wilderness rescue. That’s not really my mode of operation - or accessible at this time in my life. I just like to walk in a leisurely fashion, noticing and connecting with whatever shows up (both outwardly and inwardly), and it makes me feel better.

The program was phenomenal - planned and executed to a T - and building blocks for guiding mindfulness outdoors were received, but what I wasn’t expecting was an even more profound connection with nature AND with other humans. That last piece was especially fascinating given much of our time was spent in social silence.

The transition back to Seattle was pretty harsh. Everything was very loud, bright, and busy. The second day home, however, I woke up early, put on several layers of clothing, grabbed a blanket, and sat outside with coffee. The sky was filled with stars (I had no idea this was happening in the big city!). The clouds moved slowly, gently. Planes and satellites blinked past. The lights from Bremerton Harbor twinkled across the Sound - just like the fire had each morning at Kripalu. I breathed in. I breathed out. I felt home again.

The plan is to tiptoe into guiding . If you are interested in ogling nature with me, please reach out and I’ll keep you posted on dates.

Finding my footing back in the city underneath a tree of fiery leaves.

Our classroom in The Berkshires. Kripalu Center For Yoga & Health, Stockbridge, MA.

There are a lot of spills in our house. So many that I started a series on my instagram feed called #spilloftheday. The images rarely receive many “likes, ” but when people see me in real life, this is the series they talk about. The series they say makes their day.

I wish I could blame the kids for the spill, but a lot come from me. As a often overly self-critical person, I have had to work very hard not to be frustrated with myself over things like spills. Mindfulness and children have taught me to laugh and admire the beauty in a spill instead.

Last night, we looked out the window to admire the sunset and saw this massive spill unfolding.

One could be mad about such a thing (seriously, how did they get all that water out there without anyone noticing!! And the chalk? Not ours. Magically appeared!)

OR

one could notice the colors, contrast, wet vs dry, the kid’s inhibitions in creating/experimenting, the strange conversations and other sounds.

One can laugh. A LOT.

For me, spills are an opportunity to be mindful, to enjoy serendipity, to join in and play/create without expectations. This one was not to be missed. I ran downstairs and grabbed my big girl camera and enjoyed every minute of capturing it.