Kung Pao at Sunrise …

There’s something delightful about left over Chinese take out.  Especially in the morning. 

That’s right, I’m eating Kung Pao and watching the Sunrise. 

Who says that breakfast must be eggs, toast and bacon?

When did we become so accustomed to eating certain things at specific times of the day?

Shouldn’t we begin our days on a spicy note? Won’t it help to not only get your metabolism going but wake you up as well?

On another note, I should be applying mascara at this very moment.  However, I am not.  It seems that I’m having a wee bit of an issue with priorities this morning, eh?

But, hey, that’s how I roll (okay, I don’t ever use this phrase but it’s just fun)!!

A Soulful Bowl …



Call me silly but I find something spiritual about chinese soup. 

It’s soulful food.

My bowl is a treasure trove of colorful beauty and texture.  It feels ‘real’ to me and it’s warmth somehow soothes my soul this evening.

I’ve been thinking lately about changing the way I eat.  In the sense that I would like to cut out things that aren’t natural. 

They say that if your great-grandmother wouldn’t recognize it as food, don’t eat it. 

I have also tried to go organic as much as possible.  I delight in the way organic food looks.  No shellac coating  to make it shiny, or chemicals to mar the health value.  Instead, lovely pure color and texture that elicits thoughts of the earth. 

I believe that if we started eating for the soul (i.e. organic, fresh, humanely slaughtered, less refined), there would be less illness in the world.  And, happier people. 

When my food arrived a bit ago I was hungry and ready to eat.  But, instead of consuming without thought I took the time to savor each delicious spoonful.  I let my taste buds thrill in each bite.  I allowed my senses to take over.   It wasn’t just sustenance, it was love.

 And, isn’t this the way it was meant to be?

The Silent Dark …


So here I sit late at night. 

The room is dark except for a preternatural glow emanating from the laptop screen. 

It’s quiet, just as I like it. 

I find that lately the quiet soothes me. 
When I am distressed or simply in need of peace, I seek solitude in darkness and the sound of nothing.
When I was younger I sought noise to keep me company. 
The sound of the television in the background or music loudly whirling through speakers. 
I allowed this cacophony and chaotic imagery,  in the hopes that the word “alone” would not sink in. 

But now,  alone is no longer lonely. 

It is precious. 

In this dark solitude I am not a presence, a pretty face or just another girl. 

Instead I am effervescent energy.  
Free from bodily constraints, the rules of the world and the judgement of others. 
I do not reside heavily on the earth, held down by gravity. 
Instead I float and flit effortlessly and with great serenity in the ether.  Tethered only by a gossamer string that stirs softly in the night. 

In the light I smile for others and make up my outward appearance to please ever watching eyes.  But when it’s quiet and the still has settled into the air and the last of the light has evaporated, I am free…

Cape Cod Longing…

A Walk At Low Tide


I miss Cape Cod.     

The last time I visited was in September 2009.  It’s been much too long.      

I remember it was stunningly beautiful in the Fall.      

The sunlight was dappled and welcoming.       

The Indian Summer air was warm and left lingering remnants of salt on my lips.       

I recall a red moon rose on the first night and it’s reflection was caught  in the wetness of the low tide.      

The lobster was delicious and decadent and the streets bustled with vibrant energy.       

There’s something romantic and endearing about this area of the country.  Mysterious and historic as well.       

And just to touch on a bit of the historic: Most aren’t aware that the Pilgrims first landed in Province Town before the Mayflower came to rest at Plymouth Rock.       

Some of the oldest Pilgrim cemetaries in our country our located there.  I love to walk through them, reading the names and epitaphs on the crumbling yet amazingly interesting head stones.  In the oldest parts you can find bits of the headstones that have fallen off.  Shards of layered stone that tingle when you hold them.  As if still emitting energy from the past.      

The magic begins the moment you start your drive on the Cape.       

I’m always so excited to see the wild turkeys on the side of the road.  So much so that I squeal and want to stop the car to walk with and photograph them.       

I love saying the names of the towns out loud as I pass the signs that direct you to them.  It’s just fun to think of living in a town called ‘Sandwich’ don’t you think (just a bit of history: It’s the oldest town on the Cape and one of the oldest in the United States)?       

But my favorite moment is when the sand dunes come into sight.  There’s something so magical about them.       

One day I hope to own a cottage there.  Somewhere to simply ‘be’ and ensconce myself in pure, quiet beauty.      

Yes, I’m longing for the Cape…



I believe that God is all around us.   

Supreme energy,  universal flow and nature; it is all one.

The soulfulness that we are seeps from our pores, permeates the ether, mingles with others and emits radiant beauty.

There is an emptiness inside of me lately that can not be filled with just things or people. It is the part of me that connects to the earth and it cries out for life once again.

The past year has been a bit of a struggle for me.

One night out of complete confusion and the need to focus and center, I began to pray.  I prayed while reciting a mantra and within minutes I felt a calm settle over me and at that moment I knew that I had not lost faith.

Faith in the soul.  Faith in life.  Faith in myself and in my body.

I realized that our focus is what we are,  and if I focus on gentle words sent out to God/Manna/Allah/The Universe (whatever you believe) that this energy will be returned ten fold to us.

I have spent some time as of late, wondering why things happen as they do in this world and I have come to two conclusions.

The first:

Everything happens for a reason; we just need to be patient and follow the signs. 


Sometimes we will never truly know the answers, but we must have faith.

If we don’t we are doomed to suffer chaos.

Buddhism is peace to me. Yet strangely, so is traditional prayer.  Is it possible for the two to mingle?  Yes, it is.

Every day a miracle occurs.  The sun shines, the flowers bloom and we breathe a breath of newness as our eyes open.

Every new day has the potential to be soul fulfilling,  it’s all what you make of it.

A sigh of surprise when a butterfly flutters towards you…

Watching a leaf swirl gently from a tree to your feet…

Laying quietly in the dark while your mind wanders to far off places…

The sweet warmth of a dog curled up next to you…

These are all forms of prayer. You simply need to be aware.

I find strength in the knowledge that I exist and  that energy vibrates and envelops me.