Loving Kindness Meditation

     Sometimes, I fall into a trap of what I feel like my meditation practice should be like. Conjuring up images of a sage, sitting on a mountain in lotus pose, emptying their mind for hours at a time, connecting with the universal energy. This couldn't be further removed from what my meditation practice is like, but it is what I tend to envision. I actually find it nearly impossible to just sit and empty my mind. For me to quiet my inner dialogue,  I need to be immersed in something physically demanding, where I am so focused on my movements, my balance, my muscle engagement, that there is no room for outside thoughts. I think that is what hooked me on yoga when I came to it. But, I also crave calm, quiet stillness. So for balance, with my meditation practice, I gravitate towards more active meditation. Mantra meditation, mala meditation, and guided meditation.

     In a house full of kids, chaos, and well, life happening, I have to choose my moments for meditation. There is no way that all 4 kids are going to sit quietly so that I can have a peaceful space to meditate. I just can't, at this point, block out what is happening around me. So I accommodate for this. Sometimes I get up before everyone else so that I can start my day by centring. Sometimes I wait until the kids are off at school. If I meditate at night, it is aways a guided meditation (one that I listen to) because by this point, my mind is too busy. I always first practice pranayama, or breathing exercises, to help balance my energy to get ready for guided meditation. One of my favourite meditations of all time is the buddhist loving kindness meditation, also known as the metta meditation. This meditation allows me to direct my thoughts, and visualize, which focuses my mind in one place. Even though it is not a completely quiet mind, it is quieter.


     After the kids left for school the other morning, I went for a bike ride, to get rid of some of my busy energy, and then sat down by the river to practice the metta meditation. I parked my bike, and took a seat on a bench. There are so many variations on how we can practice this, and I change how I practice based on what I am in need of at the time of the meditation ( I will follow up with another variation of this practice very soon). Lately, I have been feeling a little greedy, taking all this time to work on myself. I feel like I am letting down the people around me. I have incredibly patient workspaces that are accommodating me being off, but I feel bad for taking so long. I have a wonderfully supportive family, but I am fully conscious of the fact that I have stopped financially contributing to the household. I have pulled back from a lot of social engagements, because it is overwhelming and awkward for me right now. And, it is increasingly important for me to accept that for me to get back to feeling like myself again, all of this is necessary, and not selfish. In this meditation, I needed to practice self compassion, to let go of all of the guilt that I have tied to this break that I am taking. I needed to acknowledge all of the 'hats that I wear'.

     Closing my eyes, I took three full, long breaths in, drawing the breath all the way down so that my belly expanded, sighing out each exhale. And then I began my meditation practice.  As I sat, feeling the breath in my body, I began to visualize a six pointed star in the middle of my field of inner vision. This star began to slowly draw in energy form all around me. I imagined it pulling in energy from the trees, from the wind, from the water. I stopped myself from analyzing this imagery, and just let it continue. Next I began the actual loving kindness meditation. I pulled up a picture in my minds eye of myself as a mother, trying to imagine myself in this roll, with as much detail as I possibly could. How look from my children's point of view, how I sound, how it feels to be a mom. Holding this image in my head, I repeated to myself; 

               "May I be filled with loving kindness. May I be safe, may I be well, may I be peaceful and at ease."

     I then began to focus on some of the other aspects of who I am. A wife, daughter, sister, friend, yoga teacher, photographer, woman, and at the core of it all, this soul, having a perfectly imperfect human experience. For each and every side of myself individually, I visualized in as much detail as possible how I am in that capacity, and repeated the meditation.

                "May I be filled with loving kindness. May I be safe, may I be well, may I be peaceful and at ease."

     In total, I spent about 15 minutes by the water. But that 15 minutes shaped the rest of my day. Later on, when I was busy cleaning bathrooms (I know, so much fun, try not to be consumed with jealousy), I got to thinking about what that six pointed star might have meant. Six pointed stars have many different theological and symbolic meanings, but the one that resonated most with me, was that it is the yantra ( or geometric pattern) that represents the heart chakra, Anahata. Our heart chakra is the mid point between our upper and lower energy centres. It connects our mind with our body. It governs the emotions of love, joy, compassion, both inwardly and outwardly. So, it was amazingly fitting that it is what I would have visualized at the beginning of my meditation. 


Where did the "little" go...

Last night was long. So long. It wasn't until 3 am that I started to drift off. And then, I was wide awake at 6:45 am. One of the many amazing symptoms during a bout of hypomania. Hopefully, as we get my medicine figured out, this sleeplessness will pass.

One thing that I have learned in my few years of mom-ing, is that when you want a little bit of quiet in the morning - DON'T GET UP AND DO SHIT. I used to try and get a little bit done in the mornings before the kids got up. Tiptoeing around the house, trying to be as quiet as possible. It was useless. Within minutes, I would have a little Kai, creeping down the stairs, smiling at me, "Mom, it is like we are connected! As soon as you get up, I get up." So true little buddy. So now, when I want a little bit of quiet, I stay the fuck in my room. 

This morning, was one of those mornings. I woke up, did a couple rounds of sun salutations, very quietly grabbed a coffee, and plunked back into my bed. I opened up Instagram, and instead of scrolling my feed, I scrolled through my old pictures. What the actual hell. Where did all of the "little" go? I thumbed through picture upon picture of missing teeth, old favourite outfits, stuffed animals, sleeping faces, and notes.

I could have cried! How long had it been since I looked at all of these?!? How did I forget how little these faces were?!?! Somehow I have been swept away in the world of 'tween drama, and forgot about their littleness. I forgot about the naps, and the croup, the drawings on the wall, the mud, the family sleep-togethers. When did they switch from being "little kids" to being "big kids"? "Big kids" who babysit, and go out with their friends - all by themselves, who have school tests, and crushes. Fuck, now I am crying...


That "New Mama" Glow...

Today, I had to run into the grocery store to grab a few things on my way home. Shopping all by myself (which feels like a mini vacay), I adeptly slid from one area to the next, quickly, quietly, gently placing each item in my cart. I even had the time to read labels, to compare the ingredient list on my much needed coconut milk. I finished up in mere minutes, payed for my food, and headed towards the doors. Then I saw her. A new mama in all of her glow-y glory. She walked slowly, gazed fixed on her beautiful baby, a smile gently strewn across her lips. We briefly made eye contact, her smile remained, and then the moment was gone. I continued on my way to my van, she continued into the store. I was flooded with memories, and three distinct thoughts.

1) I remember that feeling. That "I can't take my eyes off you" feeling. That dreamlike state where I was filled with more love than I ever knew could possibly exist. ( I still feel it now, although it is most pronounced when I look at them as they sleep.)

2) I miss that feeling. But, not enough to want another baby.

3) Oh-ma-gawd, when I walk into a store with my kids now, we look like a clusterfuck of hot-messy-ness.

There is always a whole series of rules to go over before we head in. An agonizing list of what we do, and don't do in a grocery store, a reminder not to ask for every single thing they lay their eyes on.  I could easily conjure a picture of us entering the store. Me trying to wrangle two kids by holding the collars of their shirts, dragging two kids behind me who are clinging onto my ankles like their lives depended on it. Even though it is not what is happening in reality, it is exactly what it feels like to me. I always have at least one kid who can't stop telling me how much they don't want to be in the store. I always try to let them know that while I understand, I am required by law to feed them, and that I don't want to be there anymore than they do. I also always have at least one kid trying to run, to grab anything, to grab everything, to get it in the cart before I realize it. These trips are always entertaining, to say the least. I know that one day, I will miss the lunacy. So I smile, I reminisce, I allow myself just a minute of jealousy, and then I return to feeling so incredibly happy for the loud, for the love, for the crazy, for the quiet, for it all.

 photo by Proper Photography | www.properphoto.ca

photo by Proper Photography | www.properphoto.ca

This Small City...The Overview Cafe...

     My last few posts were heavy, let's lighten the mood. As I work to carve out a little "me" time, time that is by myself and for myself, I am going to try to visit some places in this small city that I haven't been to before (and a few that I visit a lot). Some might be theraputic, some might be indulgent, and some might be for amusement. My first stop, now that the dizziness from my medication has worn off and I can drive again, was The Overflow Cafe, in Northgate Plaza, where The British Shop was...


     I walk through the door, which is built to resemble a British phone booth, and am instantaneously greeted.  I find a two top around the corner from where I entered. I am nestled in the corner, my back to the window, with a view of the whole, quaint cafe.

     A table full of men laugh and crack jokes, sharing stories about driving trips and cars.  A group of coast guards walk by outside, and one man grins ear to ear, and says, "Ahhhh, women in uniform..." It makes me smile and picture this table of middle aged men as a table of teenagers. I think the man who spoke knows I heard him, his cheeks are a little bit red. The table beside me is swapping ideas back and fourth at an increasing speed.  They sound like they are planning a new business venture, and I find myself picturing their imagined space, wondering if it will come to fruition.  Another table harbours a loner diner. At one point, our gazes meet, and she greets me with the warmest of smiles. This simple action fills my cup a little bit. The waitress comes by quickly to take my order, and then often, offering coffee, which is a little bitter, but not the worst coffee I have ever had. My breakfast arrives, and I am impressed with the portions, knowing full well that I will only be able to eat about half of it.  Poached eggs, rye toast, home-fries, and bacon. The food is well made, hot, and came out in a reasonable amount of time.

     I continue reading the article that I started this morning while I pick away at my breakfast. I am not overly hungry, but one of the medications that I take for crohns must be taken with food. This article pulls me into another world, it is sad, it is dark, and it is sprinkled with stories of hope. Although I am often flippant about how I can best serve to help others, the way that this article touches me reiterates inside this feeling of being called to offer help.

     I ask for my bill, and the waitress promptly returns with it. When I walk up to pay, I only have to wait a moment. I leave a 50% tip, because breakfast waitresses work hard, and head off to an appointment. I will definitely be back.

September is Suicide Prevention month

Some people might know that September is Suicide Prevention Month.  Some may have have even known that Sunday, September 10th  was National Suicide Prevention Day. I wanted to sit down that day and put all these thoughts to paper (metaphorically speaking, of course), but Sundays are a day spent with my family. So, instead I did it today. National Suicide Prevention Day, and Suicide Prevention Month is a time to bring awareness to both those who have died by their own hand, those who have attempted suicide, those who struggle with suicidal thoughts, and the resources available to help people in these kinds of crisis situations. The Canadian Association for Suicide Prevention is rolling out distress and crisis service later this year.  Their website is loaded with information for both suicide prevention, and coping with suicide loss.


     There are some astounding  facts about suicide on the internet. Below are a few that I found on Wikipedia...

"As of 2011, an estimated one million people per year die by suicide or "a death every 40 seconds or about 3,000 every day." According to WHO there are twenty people who have a failed suicide attempt for every one that is successful, at a rate approximately one every three seconds. Suicide is the "most common cause of death for people aged 15 – 24. More people die from suicide than from murder and war; it is the 13th leading cause of death worldwide. According to WHO, suicide accounts for nearly half of all violent deaths in the world. Brian Mishara, IASP president, noted that, "more people kill themselves than die in all wars, terrorist acts and interpersonal violence combined." The number of people who die by suicide is expected to reach 1.5 million per year by 2020. "

     The facts about suicide that we can gather from an information point of view, the statistics, are not debatable. Some of peoples interpretations about suicide can be. I can't tell you what suicide is to each person who struggles. I can tell you, as a 5 time suicide attempt surviver, what it is and isn't for me.

     For me personally, suicide wasn't ever a concept that arose in the depth of despair. I didn't ever want to end my life because I was sad, or felt like no one was there for me, or even because I had lost the ability to see my future. It was always out of exhaustion. For me personally, my depression is manageable. In actuality, when feeling depressed, I couldn't possibly muster the energy or drive for such a feat. At the opposite end of the spectrum, when my mind is overwhelmingly busy, when my anxiety is uncontrollable, when my body is so restless that I feel like I want to tear off my own skin, when the intensity of my emotions are heightened, when I am bombarded non stop by ideas; that is where I struggle. At the times in my life that I had attempted to commit suicide, I didn't fit into the stereotypical warning list. My attempts had always come as a complete surprise to family and friends. From WebMD, I found a pretty typical list of warning signs, which are very helpful, but not always accurate for everyone.

  • Always talking or thinking about death
  • Clinical depression -- deep sadness, loss of interest, trouble sleeping and eating -- that gets worse
  • Having a "death wish," tempting fate by taking risks that could lead to death, such as driving fast or running red lights
  • Losing interest in things one used to care about
  • Making comments about being hopeless, helpless, or worthless
  • Putting affairs in order, tying up loose ends, changing a will
  • Saying things like "it would be better if I wasn't here" or "I want out"
  • Sudden, unexpected switch from being very sad to being very calm or appearing to be happy
  • Talking about suicide or killing one's self
  • Visiting or calling people to say goodbye

  In my experience, I can say honestly that at no time did I want to die. I did however want what was happening in my head to stop. I never gave away my belongings in preparation. I never contacted friends or family to say goodbye. I didn't talk about or think about death. I didn't feel worthless. I didn't think that the world would be better without me. I had never lost sight of my future. In truth, I could always just see too much in my future. During each period of life for my suicide attempts, everything was too much. Too much socializing. Too much drinking (not in frequency, but in volume), too much shopping, too much thinking, too many ideas, to much energy, too much emotion, too much need for change, too many compulsions, too much anxiety.  

      Although it has been said that "suicide is a cowards was out", I can assure you that the amount of "courage" that I had to summon was immense, to be able to continue when I was utterly terrified. Not just of the act, but of the consequences. If I was successful, what would happen to my soul. If I was successful, what would happen to my family, my friends. If I was successful, how would I be damaging the life of the person who found me. If I was unsuccessful, what would happen to the way people thought of me. If I was unsuccessful, what would happen to my relationships. If I was unsuccessful, how would I ever finally be able to cope with living in my own head. Classic Shannon, overthinking at every opportunity.

     The last thing that I can tell you from my own perspective, is that even though it has been ingrained into me that these kinds of actions are embarrassing, I am always open to talking about them. I am actively trying to grow beyond my shame. If you have someone in your life who you think is contemplating suicide, or know someone who has tried to commit suicide, don't be afraid to talk to them about it.  Previously linked in this post is the Canadian Association for Suicide prevention. Included in the incredible information on their site, is a page to help those that are concerned for someone.


Round, and round, and round we go...

     Lately I have had lots of time to think. More time than I ever thought possible. I just left the hospital three days ago, after spending 11 days admitted. In all honesty, the first few days, explaining my absence from life was the last thing on my mind. As things started to come back into focus, as I talked with my family and close friends, and as I realized that there were going to be things that I loved doing that were going to have to move to the back burner for a while, I began to realize that I would have to explain my absence. So, here we go; I was admitted to 3 West, which is the Mental Health Inpatient ward.  I was admitted after coming to the emergency room for help. I will spare you the details of what led me to seek help, which is a nice way of saying that some things are private, even in this time of seemingly endless accessibility. But what I am willing to share, is that over the last little while, my mind has become increasingly busy. Being inside of my mind felt like being in a crowded room, and hearing hundreds of conversations at once. All of my emotions seemed amplified. I was not sleeping well, not remembering to eat, and felt like I had endless amounts of restless energy. The worst though, was my anxiety. Luckily for me (picture me laughing, for real, and rolling my eyes), I am pretty adept at keeping most of this to myself. 

     I have never hidden the fact that I have struggled to keep my mental health balanced, and it is the number one reason that I delved so deeply into yoga. I believe that the reason I was able to maintain a semblance of balance for so long is because of my yoga practice. I genuinely feel that for the most part, or at least for a period of time, I was keenly aware of where I was at mentally. At a point earlier this year, I lost this to some degree. I got to a place where my mind was so busy, that it became impossible for me to meditate. Even though I understand that a grounding, restorative practice would be the most beneficial for me, it ended up as a time for me to ruminate in my worries. My meditation, my practice, became another source of anxiety. I know that there are people who will say that if you just practice right, eat properly,  meditate regularly, use essential oils, and wear the right gemstones, that you can overcome/heal/live with mental illness. I am in complete agreeance that it can definitely help you to cope. I don't believe these practices cure. Even though I personally believe in their ability to help, they may even just be a placebo effect. But, in at least my case, it was not entirely enough. I am currently trying to adjust to new medications, one that helps to slow down my thoughts a little bit, and one to help with my anxiety. I am waiting on my referral to the Canadian Mental Health Association to be processed for further support. My psychiatrist would like me to begin Cognitive Behavioural Therapy, and I will also be seeking the help of a counsellor.

     Upon being admitted to the hospital, I had two major concerns. One was that parents of my friends children would find out that I was being hospitalized for my mental health, and become uncomfortable with our children playing together, or allowing their children to visit our home. The other concern was embarrassment that I was teaching people to find balance using asana and meditation, and I was unable to sustain this balance myself. There is nothing I hate more than a fraud. This is why I chose to share as much as I did. Because even though these practices can help, sometimes they don't help enough. I also wanted to share, because there is such a stigma associated with mental health. If I was being admitted to the hospital because I had a physical illness, I wouldn't have had to worry about either of these points. 

     So, now that that is out of the way, I just wanted to share that I am taking a little bit of time off to adjust. The medications have me currently feeling a little slow, a little dizzy, but I have been assured that this feeling will pass. I am not going to book any additional photo sessions for the rest of the year, and I hope to ease back into teaching yoga as soon as I am physically, mentally, and emotionally able to.

Letting go of control, letting go of stress.

There is something that seems to be sort of a catch phrase in our house, "You can't control the people around you, you can only control your reaction to them." I am sure that it isn't a huge surprise that with 4 kids so close in age, there are at times, arguments like;

  1. She is sitting too close to me.
  2. He is looking out my window.
  3. She keeps singing the same song over and over.
  4. He is looking at me.
  5. She is breathing too loud.
  6. He is...insert complaint of the moment.

  I get it, kids will be kids. I try to encourage them to approach the situation more easily by telling them the phrase mentioned above.  While it may seem like it is directed towards them, in reality I am saying it to myself.

  The deeper I delve into my yoga practice, the more I work on my svadhyaya (my self study - meaning both to study by myself, and to study myself), the more able I am to come to some pretty profound truths about myself. Realizing my need for control has been a hard pill to swallow; I am not sure why.

  Growing up, it is no secret, I struggled with my mental health (let's be completely honest, I still struggle with it, although my yoga practice seems to lessen the intensity). I was diagnosed with severe chronic depression, anxiety, and obsessive compulsive tendencies, which makes it seem funny to me that I didn't know that I liked to control things. My husband used to point out to me when I would be dealing with different situations that I was just trying to be in control. This would always infuriate me. Until one day it didn't, because I realized that he was being truthful. I did indeed have a habit of trying to control everything around me. I don't think that I was trying to control the people as a means to be in a position of power, I believe that it was my attempt to lessen my anxiety by controlling the situations that arose. 


  Insert that little family catch phrase or mantra here. "You can't control the people around you, you can only control your reaction to them." If we expand on this just a little bit ( which I do internally every time that I say it), then it could become, "We can't control what happens around us, we can only control our actions and reactions." I imagine this in a large scale scenes. Like, picturing myself trying to control the weather. The more I let this sink in, the less weight I feel like I am carrying. Surrendering to the truth in this thought is powerful.  Instead of focusing on things that are out of my control, I focus on the fact that my actions and reactions have an impact, sometimes small, sometimes large. 

  Even when it comes to my children this is true.  I focus on what my role is, what I am responsible for. I have come to know, that in reality, I can not and should not control my kids. I have no power in the choices that they make. I have no power over what they chose to believe. I do however have influence. I have (hopefully) control over the way I conduct myself, I can set clear boundaries in our house, and have consequences set in place for their choices. But in the end, the choices are theirs to make. The lessons are theirs to learn. There are parts of this journey that I will just have to sit back and watch unfold.


Nope, you don't get to tell me how to feel.

According to the information on this page, it has been a whopping year and a couple of months since I wrote a blog post. What the hell!! How has it been that long! I actually still remember writing it. Life is busy, and holy shit, it goes by fast. I have a pile of drafts sitting, waiting to be finished. But today, instead of finishing one of the almost-ready-to-go pieces, I wanted to write about something that was on my mind all day yesterday.




  Yesterday started off for me teaching a class at Inner Dawn. I came home to breakfast made by my husband, a tea ready to drink, kids waiting at the door to throw their arms around me and say hello. After breakfast I had an amazing chat with a friend that I haven't been connecting with as much lately. Sounds like a pretty great morning. Sounds like the kind of post we see on social media all the time. And, it was in fact a great morning, a great breakfast, a great talk. But the talk stirred up some old feelings in me. These feelings that I have been consciously pushing down for years. These feelings come up for me when I hear certain phrases; certain words. Words that, when they have been directed at me, have made me feel that I am not grateful enough.

  I remembering having a conversation one day a few years ago. Someone had mentioned that I had 4 kids. Someone else made the obligatory comment of "Wow, how do you manage that?  Your house must be crazy!?" And I, being awkward and honest, replied with "Sometimes it isn't crazy, sometimes it is. When it get crazy, I just remember that one day, they will be all grown up, and move out." I was immediately met with a scowl, and a phrase that I have come to loathe...

"What!!  You should enjoy every minute!!!"

  Ummmm, actually, no, I don't have to enjoy every minute. I am happy with the fact that I enjoy the experience as a whole. There is no part of me that feels the need to enjoy every, single, individual experience. In fact, I guess, if I want to turn to my yoga practice for inspiration, I shouldn't prefer or dislike any part of it (you know, the whole non attachment thing). I will always openly admit that there are parts in my day with my children that I look forward to getting past. I do also realize however, that these moments that are hard for me, are also the moments that allow me to learn, and to grow - as a mom, as a woman, as a yogi, as a human.  And i that doesn't jive for you, if you are part of the train of thought that we should "enjoy every moment" then awesome!! I am more than happy to agree to disagree. If you honestly enjoy every moment, then who am I to tell you not to. Just remember that it goes both ways. 

  I have come across a few articles lately, talking about this "mom drinking wine" culture, the memes that blow up our newsfeed, and that most of us have shared at lease once. Now, this is only my opinion, but maybe these memes are a way of some people saying how hard it is being a mom, without saying how hard it is. Sometimes, if we talk about what we are really going through, we come across as ungrateful, or resentful. I say with all sincerity, that every single day, I am indeed grateful for my family, for my husband, for my children, for my parents, and my siblings (both biological, and through marriage). And I love them all. But that doesn't mean that there are never upset feelings, or hard conversations, or even arguments. Being grateful every day, for me, doesn't mean being happy and enjoying every single moment of that day. For me, it just means that at some point, even on the hardest, shittiest days, I need to find something that I am grateful for. Maybe that gratitude is for the challenge and the growth. Maybe I can't find anything else in my day that I enjoyed. Maybe, just maybe, my gratitude is that the situation has indeed passed. Maybe if we were allowed to share our struggles without being judged so ferociously, people would open up a little bit more often, and less people would feel alone...

Sh!t I learned from Yoga - Letting Go...

     Every Wednesday morning I teach a class called "Happy Hips". I try to always switch up my classes. Some days I make adjustments and offer students essential oils to smell. Some days I do guided savasana. Some days I do a reading before savasana, while everyone settles into their rest pose. Some days I do a completely silent savasana. One thing I rarely do, is a reading at the beginning of class. I don't usually set group intentions either. I know that every day, the students come to their mat for different reasons, and I usually prefer to allow them time to set their own intention for their practice.  

     While preparing for class this past Wednesday, I came across a reading that changed my plan for this week. I found this reading and immediately thought it would be best shared at the beginning of class, and offered for all of the student to join me in a group intention, for at least the time we spent in class, to let go.

 shannonturnerphotography.com   Algonquin Park 2015

shannonturnerphotography.com   Algonquin Park 2015


She let go
By Rev. Safire Rose

Without a thought or a word, she let go.

She let go of fear.

She let go of judgments.

She let go of the confluence of opinions swarming around her head.
She let go of the committee of indecision within her.

She let go of all the ‘right’ reasons.
Wholly and completely, without hesitation or worry, she just let go.

She didn’t ask anyone for advice.

She didn’t read a book on how to let go.
She just let go.
She let go of all the memories that held her back.

She let go of all of the anxiety that kept her from moving forward.

She let go of the planning and all of the calculations about how to do it just right.

She didn’t promise to let go.

She didn’t journal about it.
She didn’t write the projected date in her Day-Timer.

She made no public announcement.

She didn’t check the weather report or read her daily horoscope.
She just let go.

She didn’t analyze whether she should let go.

She didn’t call her friends to discuss the matter.

She didn’t utter one word.
She just let go.

No one was around when it happened. There was no applause or congratulations.
No one thanked her or praised her. No one noticed a thing.
Like a leaf falling from a tree, she just let go.

There was no effort. There was no struggle.

It wasn’t good. It wasn’t bad.
It was what it was, and it is just that.
In the space of letting go, she let it all be.

A small smile came over her face. A light breeze blew through her.

And the sun and the moon shone forevermore


     When was the last time that you allowed yourself to just let go.  Maybe today is the day to try...