Monthly Archives: December 2025

on the eve of

This morning, I journaled about how difficult this past year has been. So much anger, resentment, fatigue, and disappointment. Two years post-divorce after nearly 30 years of marriage, the lingering challenges can feel overwhelming on some days. My own self-limiting beliefs and negativity don’t help. They tend to feed a sense of disillusionment that can be hard to escape.

And yet, I keep going, must keep going. In the process, I sometimes lose sight of all I have actually accomplished over these past two years, even as the work of grieving continues.

On a brighter note, winter break has offered moments of creativity and rest. I’ve been collaging and recently had a photo shoot for my new website. I’ll be honest, I wasn’t thrilled with how I looked, but the camera captures what it captures. Aging is inevitable, and some days that truth lands more heavily than others.

The shoot itself was no small feat. It was cold and windy, and hauling my Tibetan and crystal singing bowls through beach sand took more energy than I had to spare. I left some instruments and props in the car simply because I didn’t have it in me to carry more. The photos will do for now. Perhaps I’ll try again in the spring, somewhere other than the beach! Still, the sunset was beautiful, despite my whining.

As we step into a new year, I wish you joy, good health, abundance, and new adventures. May your days be brighter, your nights calmer, and your moments sweeter in 2026. I enter this next chapter grateful for endings and new beginnings, carrying a quiet sense of adventure yet fear of the unknown.

simple life

I want a slow, simple, peaceful life,
one that doesn’t ask me to live on edge,
one that doesn’t grind my bones to dust
just to pay the goddamn rent.

A life where enough is enough,
where healing is a calling
that feeds me too,
not just those around me.

I wish for mornings that open softly,
light pouring in without alarms,
furry creatures and soft whinnies,
the quiet language of animals,
knowing without words.

I’m not asking for castles
or the lottery.
The material doesn’t interest me.
Only a place where love is close
and the ones I cherish
are within reach of my voice.

Why is that so hard?
Why does something so small
feel near impossible,
like asking the world to stop spinning
for one kinder hour?

And still, inside this tired chest,
lives a stubborn spark
that keeps burning.
There must be more than this;
there must be a slower way to live.

So I hold that wish
like a candle in the dark
and dream of a life
that doesn’t hurt to wake up to.