Dear Julia

Dear Julia,

I'm intrigued by your request, and I know how you asked me to respond. However, I've never been really great at following instructions, so instead I've chosen to answer you in this post. Your request for my naming 5-10 best restaurants worldwide got me to thinking what really does make the best restaurant in my opinion. You see, unbeknownst to you and many people who know me, I don't have a great sense of smell or taste. And, you've requested to promote my Healing Grace website, and as an author I wrote about tastes and smells. Very tricky way to live and work. I have now outed myself. A few years ago I worked in a kitchen at a local restaurant and was asked over and over to taste soups and sandwich mixtures to see what needed to be added. I got really, really good at faking it.

Here are a few restaurants that happen to be on the historic square of McKinney, Texas. They all have more than their location in common; they also have the nicest owners. I go back to these restaurants not only for the beautiful food, but because of how I'm treated. Each and every restaurant have personnel who treat customers as family. The chefs easily and kindly accommodate variations on the menus. I walk into each place and feel as if I'm home.

You also asked for pictures on Instagram, but since I don't use it I decided to do things my way -- stitch my pictures. First off, there's Rick Wells' restaurants, Rick's Chophouse and Harvest. Harvest is a farm to table restaurant where the chef made special vegan meals for three of us. Kudos to the chef!

I've lived in many states in the last few years, and no place spells love and nourishment like downtown McKinney restaurants. Karen Klassen owns Spoons Cafe and Spoons Garage celebrating the best of all comfort food like fried okra, meatloaf, and shepherd's pie. Again the owner and her staff are extremely friendly, helpful, and willing to accommodate. I used to have a studio above Spoons Garage, and what a joyful time to be able to sew, drink some downtown coffee, and take breaks in the Garage eating with friends.

There's also a sweet place that has had my heart since it opened over four years ago. I met the owners the night before they opened, and no matter how much they had to do still, they welcomed my friends and me and showed us around. Square Burger not only has a fabulous chef/owner, Craig, but also has around 30 beers on tap. Brandon, another owner, has gotten more compassionate and kinder through the years, and I didn't even know that was possible. The burgers here are gourmet and plated beautifully. I love the texture in each bite, and their sweet potato fries are truly beyond compare. I step inside and feel the love. That to me is the test of a great restaurant, and they pass with flying colors in my book. I know they've gotten all kinds of accolades for their food, but when you get fabulous food surrounded by loving people... well, it just doesn't get better than that.

I could go on and on about the restaurants on the square and their owners. Sandra and her crew have built an environment where I just want to go and sit, gathering in the warmth of everyone in the coolest place on the planet -- Snug on the Square. Thank you, Sandra.

And then there's Patina Green and their fabulous owners. What a treasure they are. You can pick up a few groceries, grab a snack, or indulge in a great meal. And you can shop in their beautiful surroundings.

Take a look at their websites to get a real idea at how spectacular they are and what they've added to the community.

Oh yeah, and before I go, you asked me to tell you how I got my website started. You actually wrote to me about my book, Healing Grace. Long story short -- I write and I stitch and sometimes I combine the two. I've been doing both since I was a kid. I studied creative writing at Harvard and at University of Colorado in Boulder. Lately, I've been doing most of my writing in my head while sewing all day long. I have a business making things for other people from chair cushions to curtains to tunics, tops, dresses, purses, pillows... and on and on. As soon as I figure out to do all that I really want to do, I'll add more writing into my schedule. My websites are Jill Luigs and The Selvage Edge. You can find my online shop here.

I hope this answers the questions you posed to me. If not, you know how to reach me.

Thanks,
Jill

P.S. And one more thing:

I couldn't stop stitching...

the wind

I am 54 years old. No spring chicken. Been around the block a time or two. So, how is it that I feel brand new?

It seems as if every single thing in my life has occurred to bring me to the moment I'm in now. I am here in NY with this man for a very great reason. I'm learning every single minute how easily love grows. It's astounding to me to feel the way I do about him. I think about him when he's not with me, and when he is, I can hardly keep my eyes (and hands) off him.

Where did this come from? I thought I'd been in love before. I thought I knew what it was like to share my life with someone. I'm finding that those beliefs are false. I'm discovering now what it means to love someone so deeply, so unconditionally that there's not a thing he can say or do that will lessen the love I feel. By opening to him, I've opened myself to the world, the most beautiful, contagiously gorgeous parts of the universe. It's a world I couldn't have wished for because I didn't know it existed.

I look back on my life as a single woman -- my real life, I call it -- and categorize my "episodes" like this: Steamboat Springs was my time for extraordinary spiritual growth and discovering who I could possibly be. The next phase, McKinney, TX, was my I-never-got-to-be-a-wild-teenager-before time, so I took the opportunity to let loose and cultivate wonderful friendships in a magical small community.

And then New Mexico hit me, and I mean that literally. My three months in NM was what I call my "hosing off" time. Apparently, the wild teenager in me needed a major hosing to integrate all the phases I had experienced so that I could be prepared for my NY experiences.

I came here to NY with three suitcases and a box. Absolutely no record of a past to speak of. Pretty amazing considering I used to live in the midst of great quantities of things. Things, things, and more things. I arrived with clothes, a few books, and essential papers. That's it. Nothing more.

However, in the 125 days I've been here, I've accumulated the greatest of all wealth. I am deeply loved by the most amazing man in the galaxy. I am rich beyond words.

I wake in the morning and look at his face. My heart fills to overflowing. I get to wake up next to him. I've never experienced such amazing wealth before moving here.

I recall my childhood with three brothers, a Catholic upbringing in the 50s, 60s, and 70s (And did I mention that it all occurred in the south of all places??), and I see myself now living in the north, non church-going without those said brothers, and I realize the transformation that has transpired. Every single experience, every moment, every breath has led to right now, right here with this man, with our art, with our love, our passion for each other and what we do. It's an extraordinary time, an amazing chance to create the perfect life with this very, very perfect man for me.

I was told by two people in Texas that I would have a relationship beyond my wildest dreams, that I would be loved like this, be given gifts regularly, and not once could I believe them. I scoffed at them actually. I had never had a man treat me with such respect or gratitude. I had no reference for that. I couldn't fathom working with a man I was in a relationship with and loving every minute of it. How could that be after working with a husband for 26 years and knowing that with each passing day, more and more of me was dying?

I was reading some messages that Dan and I had been sending to one another on FB last year before either one of us was ready to admit that there could possibly be more between us than we were letting on, and I marvelled at the genuine concern, beautiful sentiments, and glowing raves we shared with each other. We have respected each other from the very first word. We have believed in each other from the moment we saw each other's work. And now, what we have done together... I am humbled to call him my partner in business, in love, and in life. He is truly so much more than I could have ever imagined. He's allowed my freak flag to fly. He's actually encouraged it, and he truly is the wind beneath it.

milestones...

Today marks a milestone. I've been here in NY with Dan for 84 days, one day longer than I was in New Mexico. It's also the day before Texas Independence Day and Dan's birthday. Several milestones, I guess. I've never celebrated Texas Independence Day or Dan's birthday before. Again, new experiences, and believe me, celebrating with Dan is always a new experience. Because today is his last day to be 54, I want to dedicate this time and this space to the man that I am privileged to live with and to call my own. Ah...

Today we got our second piece of mail with both our names on it. I don't know quite how to describe what that felt like. I looked at both our names with an "and" sign in the middle, sent to one address. I know I live here with him. I wake up with him every morning. I go to bed with him every night. I call this home. This is where I want to encrust a few roots. Then I see our names typed together on a mailing label from a local museum where we are now members, and I feel as if the Universe is agreeing with me. We belong together. We sooooo belong together.

I'm working on a few commissioned pieces right now, and he's been documenting every step of the way. I've put up a design wall in my studio space so I can view the makings of the wall hangings from hour to hour, moment by moment. And before I know it, Dan's taking pictures of the progression of the strips, the circles, the squares, and the rectangles. I'm making five wall hangings and one pillow out of someone's father's clothing. He was a surgeon and a hunter, so I have a collection of silk ties and camo, dress shirts and overalls, not to mention the bright hunter orange shirt. Dan has given me advice, listened to my musings, and put up with whining when I couldn't figure out why I wasn't pleased with the pieces.




way before a million changes


I've never had this in my life. I've never had a man who was so encouraging to my artist whims. I've never had someone want to be a part of this growing experiment of making wall art from clothing. He has provided me with solitude when he knew I needed it and an ear when I needed to be heard.

We discovered each other when we were 54 years old, when we least expected it, when we both fought the inevitable. When we surrendered to the fact that we were meant to be together, it was (and continues to be) truly magical, and the easiest thing we both have ever done.

It's been 84 days of bliss, of extraordinary education in art, of stretching myself, and of allowing the most beautiful man into my life. I've grown my sewing space, and I've grown my imagination. The latest things I've done with his tie-dyes have yet to be completely finished, but I'll unveil the happenings here.




tie-dyed fabric beads


If it weren't for Dan Leo, I would not be where I am right now or who I am right now. I love it all more than I've loved any of it before. I've never felt like I belong like I do here, and believe me I knew I belonged in McKinney, Texas, so just imagine what my belonging in this place to this man feels like!

We're working on a name for our business. We thought we had it twice already. However, both names were already taken, so now back to square one. In the meantime, I'll keep posting our latest works and our latest comings and goings.

You know, people have always told me that if they knew what it was like to be a grandparent they would have chosen that first. Well, if I'd ever known what it was like to love this man and live with this man like I do, I would have done it first. But because we met up when we'd both been through a lot, after tremendous growth and pain, we have created a life together that is beyond compare. I could never have had this kind of relationship without first experiencing all that I didn't want first. So, to all that participated in that challenging growth, I thank you because right here, right now I'm the happiest I've ever been. This is right where I belong.

going home

I haven't celebrated Christmas in many, many years. No Christmas tree. No Christmas dinner. Just didn't feel like it. Christmas has been just another day for most of this century. As a matter of fact, I was looking at the same kind of Christmas this year too as everyone in the compound where I live right now in Taos will be gone by Christmas. I thought I'd be here by myself -- again.

Not so anymore.

I'm moving to Oswego, New York. Heading that way on Monday. Right now my last load of laundry is being dried, and just one more suitcase to pack. I've given away even more of my stuff. I've spent my single life purging like crazy, and when I left McKinney, Texas I thought I'd purged enough of my things. Again, it's not what I thought.

All of my belongings now fit into two large suitcases and a duffel bag. I'm arriving in Oswego with no past. I've gotten rid of all journals and now most of my pictures. I've held onto a few pictures of my daughter, but all others are gone.

This move has been a no-brainer. It has come strictly from my heart. I am working with someone creating clothing from his dyed fabrics. The joy I feel from working with his masterpieces is indescribable. The passion I feel for working with him has led to something very personal. There is a connection between the two of us that has made this move across the country the easiest thing I've ever done. I am told several times a day about how cold it is there, the amounts of snow they have every winter, and how poverty-stricken the area is.

It doesn't matter. I'm moving to be with the man, not to be in the place. The love I feel for him is so deep and natural and real. It's the truest thing in my life. It's the one thing I'm more sure of than anything else. And, it's all that matters.

I'm 54 years old. I'm not a young teenager that's walking into a situation thinking it's all rosy and sweet. No, I'm looking at it as fun. This adventure is my fun time. My marriage was hard work, drudgery, and putting happiness at bay. This relationship has just been so much fun. If I could only impart the joy I feel brainstorming with him, looking at his picture of super heroes overseeing his cups of dyes, hearing about the nativity set where each figure is about one inch tall, and looking at the picture of the glass baby Jesus in front of the margarita mix bucket. He opens my world with his fascination of how macaroni could actually look like an angel. When I look at the picture he sent me, I can't help but smile and get excited about creating new Christmas memories.

This is my time to lighten up, to play, to live with boys again, create art, clothing, and accessories out of tie-dyed fabrics, to laugh incessantly, to dance to every kind of music, to plant a garden with seeds garnered from eaten vegetables, to help cook coconut battered fried chicken, to make up stories, and to love so openly that joy spills out. This is my new adventure. The train I'm taking leaves on Monday and arrives where my heart is leading me on Wednesday.

I am going home. Finally. And, home is not a place. In this case it's a man, and I get to play with him.

Does place matter?

Years ago I was asked if place mattered, if a place could make you happy. Now, I don't believe anything outside myself is responsible for my happiness. I do know that certain people or situations can certainly broaden my smile, and other experiences can make a smile difficult to form. However, if I were not human ever, then I'd have to say place or anything else did not matter at all because I could be happy all the time no matter what.


I just happen to be human also. I have some very human moments, and just what a kick they happen to be.

What I've been discovering is just how unnecessary it is to get dramatic about how things look. For instance, Tammy and I no longer have phone service today. I smile anyway and want to see how clever the universe is in getting me the information I am to know today. God knows, the one thing the universe does not need to communicate with me is a phone. I'm waiting to hear from a future employer, but it won't be by phone now. I have some of my artwork at a new store, and the owner was going to call me today about selling them there. Well, it won't be by phone.

This has offered me another opportunity to be less available in the "normal" channels. I won't go into why the phone was disconnected because every human involved with the situation has a different story, and the stories don't matter. None of the stories matter. None.

So, back to a place making me happy... I moved to Taos only knowing Tammy. Why did I move here? Don't know that one completely, just know that it felt good. It still feels good. It feels right. I look back on who I was being in McKinney, Texas, and I not only don't recognize that person, but I truly don't like the memories I have of her.

I used to party a lot on the square. There was always drinking and eating going on there. That's what we did. At the end of the day it was always about where we were going to go that night and who we were going to drink with. That's how I remember it. I haven't had a sip of any alcohol whatsoever since my birthday party in late September. I didn't drink much in Steamboat Springs, Colorado where I lived before arriving in McKinney. As a matter of fact, I don't think I drank like that since I had been in college.

Steamboat and Taos have both been very spiritual places for me. Taos even more so. The level of art is escalated here. I feel that goes hand in hand, at least it does for me. My art is a form of spirituality for me. It takes me to a place I can't go to in any other way. What's interesting though is that I moved out here with no art/sewing supplies whatsoever. I keep stripping down my material life. It's fascinating because I'm learning how to live life totally differently. I thought I was going to come out here and do energy work and not be an artist when what I have done is use my energy in my latest art creations. My energy here is so profound that it knocks me off my feet sometimes. The energy in Taos is palpable. I feel the shift in my own energy since moving here. I'm discovering that this is the case with most people. What takes people years to transform in other places occurs here within days. That's how it's been for me.

Does Taos make me happy? I make me happy. Taos resonates with my energy though. Taos and I are one sometimes. I don't need to do energy work here. I am an energy billboard here. No matter what I do or say or have or be, I am all that's necessary right here, right now. I have it all within. I've never felt this way until moving here. It's a complete package of peace and tranquility wrapped up so nicely.

When I explain to people here how I've been feeling, they nod their heads. They tell me welcome home. They embrace me. This is something I've not experienced before. I used to be very careful with what I said because I was tired of the strange looks or the constant questions. Here, I hardly even finish a statement when the person I'm speaking with agrees with me. Sometimes I can't finish a sentence because it's just not necessary. Words aren't always essential here. It's the unspoken understanding, the smile, a gentle hand on the shoulder, that makes me realize that this is the only place I can be right now for the growth that I've gone through, the relationships I've developed, and the peace I've embodied. With everything stripped away, I can only see the trust I have in the Universe. I am totally taken care of with or without a phone. Phoneless, I must put myself out there to talk to those I need to face to face. What a concept! I have to look in their eyes while giving and getting information. I make connections with them that I couldn't possibly do on a phone or through emails.

My life here has centered around human contact while totally sober. I've learned to adjust my body to the different energy here. I feel things so much stronger. I feel people who aren't even here physically. And in Taos, those feelings are normal. I don't have to explain myself here. I am where I belong right now. I have the prospect of having a future boss that is phenomenal in the loving people department. I have the ability to go to work and not have a single thing matter as much as radiating compassion and understanding to every single person I encounter. This is what I'm here for right now. This is all that matters at this moment. To love no matter what. It's really easy to love when I'm being loved, and now I'm doing it when the" being loved" is disguised as something else.

So today begins another new way of showing up in this fantasy called life. I've adapted to not having a car, and now I'll do it with a phone that acts as a timepiece. I am grateful. I am just so grateful to see how beautifully the magic will unfold today.

And, yes, place does matter.

what if?

"Your Source Energy is always giving you exactly what you need in the particular now moment you happen to be in. However, so often you don't receive it because you are somewhere else. When you are not present in the now moment it is akin to not being home. When Source knocks on your door, you do not hear it. For any problem you have, Source already has the solution. But, you must be home to receive it." Thank you, Kristopher Raphael

This struck me so clearly this morning (as most of Kristopher's statements do) because I recognized in me this need to be able to "see into the future" and determine where my steps would lead. I'm saying this because of something interesting that happened yesterday. First of all, I've attracted someone into my life that just doesn't play the games I'm used to playing with men. There are no games with him. There is this adherence to being in the present moment and being there so completely that there is nothing else. In his words, "being with all that is." He shows up as he is in every moment. There's no guessing what's going on, or what he "really" means when he says something because with him what he speaks are the words he means at that very moment. Period. The way he treats me is the way he means to at that very moment. And, when we're not together there are no moments of angst about what each other's thinking or anything else because he is in that moment that he's in. He is that present, and he's teaching me about the peace that is.

Being in that present moment allows such clarity of what's going on around us. Sitting on the bed last night talking with him about something that occurred yesterday that before would've sent me over the edge, instead gave me lovely moments to share with a very present and purposeful man. He's teaching me that peace is the energy of allowing. Being peace is Source energy, where we come from, what we're here to live in, wrap ourselves in, and just be. When I'm in that place of peacefulness, I see more clearly because I'm not caught up in the emotions of the people around me, and there are no emotions that erupt within. I am calm. I am needing nothing. I am purely present.

I remember reading the Power of Now back in McKinney, Texas, and before that when I was married. I really had no experience of feeling that complete and utter present. That still moment. That just being. And now I do. It's in the experiencing of it that I've learned what it feels like, and the feeling of it has altered how I look at my world. I can hear the words of naysayers, and instead of getting emotionally defensive, I look at what in them is triggering the charge within me. What in me needs to be healed? They are just these magnificent beings here to help me move to my next transformation. How lovely is that? And this time the words come from someone I have held so closely to my heart all of her life. My daughter. I adore this young woman. She is one of the most amazing beings I have ever had experiences with, and I am that privileged to call myself her mother. She is my greatest gift even now when her words are harsh and angry. She's teaching me to open my heart even more, to love unconditionally no matter what is being said. She's showing me how to be loving and compassionate and all-embracing no matter what, and because of that I have attracted into my life a very conscious, intentional man who is the epitome of being what is.

What if we were truly able to see others as reflections of ourselves instead of enemies? What in them is charging us? What if we were to look at the circumstances around us in that way? Could there be peace? What if we were more concerned about being peace instead of trying to create it in others? What if we were more determined to be the people we are here to be rather than trying to get others to adjust to what it is we want? What if we made unconditional love our top priority instead of the almighty dollar?

What if indeed...

Transparency

"We are earth people on a spiritual journey to the stars. Our quest, our earth walk, is to look within, to know who we are, to see that we are connected to all things, that there is no separation, only in the mind." -Lakota


I was reading postings on my FB wall when I came across this one shared by Cheryl Janecky. Interesting that I had just journaled about that very thing. I've made friends with a Lakota medicine man and have fallen in love with me all that more because there is no separation, except in my mind. He is peace. He knows who he is and knows the connection with us all. By knowing him, I know myself. By loving him, I love myself. With him there is quiet euphoria and the questions disappear when I truly lay myself open before him.

The difficulty I've had has been to be that laid out and honest, that authentic and purely open. I find myself running for cover in superficial conversations. Really, really? I say this is what I want, and he shows up, and I play less than? Is this what it means to be careful what you wish for?

I choose to step up and meet him where he is. I choose better for myself. I choose the best for myself, and right now it feels right to choose what he brings into my life. To match him, I must be authentic. To me that means that I must speak and feel from my heart, not my head. Stop myself before opening my mouth or doing anything, and listen within. What feels good? Respond to him, his energy, in kind. He speaks from his heart. He loves openingly. His eyes tell all. They are a sea of compassion, of kindness, and if that's what I see, then it's in me. We are one. The separation exists only in my mind, and when I get out of my head, I see the best parts of me. I see myself as unconditional love. I see myself as that compassionate being, that person that oozes loving energy. When I acknowledge who I really am, how can I be anything else? How can it be any different for you? We are made of the same fabric.

I sit here at this beautiful dining room table with dahlias overseeing my typing, small aircraft flying outside the window, and adobe houses lining the streets. I'm listening to Native American chants through my earbuds, and I'm flying high. In a previous life I would be chastising myself for wasting time not doing anything on my to-do lists. I don't have to-do lists anymore. My heart's in charge now. My heart is my guidance, my boss, my supervisor, my CEO. And because of that, I've attracted the most amazing people in my life. I've been given the opportunity to raise the bar over and over with how I show up in the world. I choose to keep raising it. I belong higher, and the higher I go the higher I want to go.

Someone told me that there was no reason for me to leave McKinney, Texas where I'd been living near her. She told me that I could have everything I wanted right there. She said I was running away from something, and I was taking myself with me. She told me that I would end up just in another place and still unhappy with myself and with the place. All I can say to that now is that I could have never experienced (and did not experience) any of this in Texas. There is an energy here like I've never experienced before. There are people here like I've never met before, and I have become someone I've never been before, and becoming even more the person I really want to be. The peace within is what I carry now. That is all I carry. I've gotten rid of everything else, and I keep encountering layers of what's not peace every now and then, and get the chance to remove it. I go deeper and deeper within. I excavate. I am quiet. I am silent. I sit on a boulder on a mountain soaking in the sun. I hear the ravens overhead. I see the hawks circling, and I come to know me even more.

There is no bank account, car, house, alcoholic drinks, person, lover, etc. that can bring to me the peace I have cultivated within. It wasn't until I became that peace, that love, that all-encompassing energy body that all these people showed up in my life. When I became what I wanted, I made room for these experiences of what authentic love looks like.

You raise me up...

Floating through life, that's what my friend Tammy Davis and I are doing here. We're showing up and seeing what happens. Everything we thought we were going to be doing here has fallen apart, and the new keeps unfolding. The lessons, the epiphanies, the life-altering moments, everything is course correcting. We're learning to drop the oars and just float downstream. There's nothing else to do. Absolutely nothing.

I first met Tammy three months ago today in the alley beside Coffee 'n Cream in McKinney, Texas. I was working in my studio above a restaurant on the square called Spoons making aprons, purses, bags, wall hangings, and anything else that came to my mind and slipped out my fingers. I had no intention of ever going back into the health care world. I was an artist, not a healer. Not after working in a healing facility for 26 years or working with a shaman for almost two years, not after getting certified in Integrated Energy Therapy and doing a study on the effects of energy on the physical body. Nope. Wasn't going back into that field.

And then, about a week later I was "trapped" in the spa sitting in the front room having energy flow in and out of me in waves forming the infinity symbol. It amped me up so much that I had to grab the next person that came out of any treatment room and shoot the energy out my hands all over her. An hour later we both thought we needed a cigarette. It was that explosive, that powerful, and that life-altering. It was something I knew I had to do. It was something that shot into me and wasn't going to let me go. I began to feel other's energy fields whether they were near me or not. I was discovering a way to make love without another body present. I was having night time visitors that were not in their physical bodies telling me things that only they would know, and then I would discover how true it really was after going on with my life the following days.

That's how I spent my summer. And then I shut down my studio and worked in the health care facility with my daughter, Tammy, and others. That's when everything began to amp up even more until Tammy found herself being called to Santa Fe. Suddenly, I was on the road with her. I had felt my pull back to Colorado. However, after a "hunting" trip to Santa Fe, I jumped on Tammy's train. I had to go where she was heading. I had never been to Santa Fe before, never yearned for it before, but knew, just knew I had to go with her.

The night before I left I had dinner with someone from high school that I hadn't seen since graduation. He treated me like no man had ever treated me before. He raised the bar so high that no one I had ever experienced before could even come close to touching it.

What's interesting about these turn of events is that each man in my life has increased the development of who I'm necessary to be to be open to what's been coming my way here. He not only showed me what I deserve, but what I know I deserve. Before him, I didn't know a man could treat a woman like he did, and now I know I deserve nothing less.

In high school he liked me. I knew he liked me, but how could I trust that when I didn't even like me? It goes with that saying, "I wouldn't belong to a club that would have me." So, forty years later I not only like me, but I so enjoy being treated with the utmost consideration and respect. I was with a man for thirty-two years, and was never shown the amount of respect in that time by my husband than I was by this man in one night.

"You raise me up to more than I can be." I used to listen to Josh Groban sing those lyrics, and I was totally confused to how that could be. How could you possibly be raised to more than you can be? How could that happen? I don't know the answer to that, but what I do know is that I feel that I have been raised up to more than I can be. And, while living here in Santa Fe these past few days, I'm discovering over and over and over just how powerful a place that is.

At last...

Settling in on a friend's couch with book in hand, I felt this shift within me as if there was this whole other Jill residing on the surface who moved just a little differently than the Jill I was accustomed to being with. Just a twinge of separation and then there it was, a complete and utter knowledge that I had cut ties with Texas.

 Again.

I am ready to move back to Colorado.

Back in '74 when I was moving there the first time, I had consciously planned the event well in advance. This time all I was doing was settling in for a night of reading, and then I felt it. I looked at my cell phone to see what time it was. 7:17 was on the face.

The rest of the story is up for grabs. I just know that I know it's time to move on. When it occurs, how it occurs, and where I move to is certainly not in my realm of knowledge at the moment.

I was raised to believe that you go to school, get a degree, get a good job, and then retire. I thought I'd marry one time, stay married til I died (or he did) and remain in Boulder County forever. Not once in all those scenarios was happiness a factor. Not once did I ask myself what I really wanted. Not once did I contemplate what my role in life was going to be. I just did what I was told with a very heavy and sad heart and repeated it day after day after day. So, I wasn't used to switching places to live or careers or friends or lovers until I became single again.

Now, uncertainty has become one of my closest companions. I feel the energy and go with it, and I'm not saying it's that easy for me either. I've felt some very strange energy within me for awhile now, and at 7:17 tonight it felt that it moved dramatically. I'm calm right now. It's been a few days since I've felt that way. I should've known something big was up for me because I went ballistic while texting a friend today. He had texted that he wasn't that special, and I lost it. Let's just say I learned something more about me at that moment. It wasn't until I let go of another old, old, frickin' old belief about myself that I realized how crazy my text back to him was.

He's either a very kind man or just great at bullshitting because he let me know that it was all good, and I hadn't scared him off yet. Well, he's also 900 miles away so I'm sure he's feeling very safe from my craziness. Believe me there are many times I wish I could be 900 miles away from me too.

"As you begin to release the constraints that bind you to circumstances you have outgrown, you will discover that the direction of choice is found on a road you must travel alone. As you gather the fragments of the structure that crumbles around you, and as you cease trying to 'make sense of it,' you will come to embrace the peace of knowing that the struggle is, at last, coming to an end. And you will experience a sense of sweet detachment from what was and an openness to what is yet to be."
-- Oneness by Rasha

I'm curious as to what is yet to be. I'm curious, fascinated, and totally intrigued. Sometimes I lose my head and try to figure things out, and by doing so I get caught up in drama and lose sight of the magic. And that's what I did today.

"It is crucial that you attain a state of detachment from the energy charges that have magnetized you, habitually, throughout this lifetime. It is crucial that you recognize the common thread in the web of dramas that you have woven -- that continue to ensnare you. And it is crucial that you allow yourself the grace of your own humanness in responding to these recurring situations -- and love yourself for it."
-- Oneness by Rasha

That's what I learned about myself today: I didn't think I was that special. My friend was a mirror to me. I didn't want to wring his neck; I wanted to wring mine. I am that special. I am that wonderful. I am. Another human experience that I get to love myself for. Just another opportunity to grow, another chance to expand. Oh, yay for me...

Now, I'm going to take myself on a walk. It's finally cool outside, and as I walk through familiar blocks of beautiful historic homes I'm going to get the chance to experience another level of detachment because as I stroll through these neighborhoods, I know that one day soon it will be my last.

About last night...

A guy I went to high school with had a birthday yesterday. After 21 comments back and forth to each other on Facebook, we continued with texting on and off throughout the day and night, and into early morning for me. We texted a lot about metaphysics, which led to past lives and Indians. Anyone who knows me well, knows how strongly I relate to those subjects. Indians became a constant topic of conversation and transformation for me while I lived in Steamboat, and apparently it didn't end there.

To make a really long story as short as I can, this friend yesterday brought up specific things that related to what I had seen during my shamanic journeys. It has since put me in another place mentally and emotionally. I haven't stopped thinking about it. When I least expected it, when I was so focused on possibly beginning a new relationship with someone local, this man in Colorado plugs into visions I had not even thought about in a long time. The energy that rose while texting each other is still ramping up. I pace the floor like a caged animal because it is so powerful. There was a connection made last night through the help of technology that has shifted everything.

"When you least expect it, from the most unlikely place, he will show up." This is what a psychic told me May of '08. Well, let me say that it is the most unlikely person and the most unlikely place. I thought I'd never leave Colorado, and here I am back in Texas after a 34-year absence. Reading his texts last night about how he sleeps with the windows open year round flashed me back to wonderful nights snuggled under covers with a breeze wafting through the room. I can't do that here. It's too hot, too humid, and way too many bugs. As he was texting me about his first trip to Gunnison, his desire to be in the wilderness, and a place with a creek running through it, my heart remembered why I moved there in '74.

I've been very happy here in McKinney. I've met the best people in the world, creating relationships beyond compare, and lately I've been feeling open to moving again. Listening to my friend talk about why he had to move there last year tugged at my heart. I remembered sitting by the Roaring Fork in Basalt listening to the water rush past me; the night I spent at Woody Creek Tavern with two very good friends of John Denver's; the many times I've taken off from the Aspen airport in a friend's Bonanza; the daily walks I took along the Yampa in Steamboat; the hikes up Emerald Mountain; climbing W Mountain in Gunnison; feeding horses naked during a snowfall...

Even though I had lived in Colorado for 34 years, I'm remembering only those times when I was single there. Those were my most amazing times, because it was in being single that gave me the latitude to awaken to what really jazzed me.

And now, this man reawakened in me the deepest, most profound part of who I really am using his own desires for the land where he now lives to help me remember what drove me there 36 years ago. I can live anywhere and still be a Colorado girl. People tell me all the time that I dress Colorado. No matter how hard I've tried, I'm not a Texas-girl dresser. I am not bling, big hair, or high heels. I am a t-shirt and blue jeans girl. Give me my Keene sandals, and I can stay on my feet walking or hiking for hours.

I love McKinney. I love the people here. It's magical, and yet, there's this other part of me that remembers the colors of the aspen leaves in September and the sound they make with the wind blowing through them, or the mountain to the left of us when taking off from the Aspen airport, Starwood to our right, and all the Gulf Streams under us. It's funny that I've never felt the desire to fly here, but thinking about take-offs from the Aspen airport makes me want to jump in that Bonanza right now.

I feel my life in waves, one wave of this great desire to be in Colorado, and another wave of loving life here in McKinney. Back and forth these waves undulate, tide rolling out and then coming back in. One foot in Texas, the other in Colorado.

And then I did an energy session with an intuitive who gave me a reading afterwards. What she told me was what I had been feeling: my heart, my home is in Colorado. She said I would be going back there this fall. She said this man is a stepping stone to my being open to doing just that. She said a lot of other things about him too, but I'm not sharing that information.

The guides that showed up were Indian grandmothers. They asked me how far will I take myself? They told me that all I needed to do was put one moccasin in front of another. I make my path wherever I go. They also said I was still connected to my shaman, Rob Wergin, that my work picks up where his leaves off. Not sure what that means, but they said that I'm not done working with him. Well, thank god for that!

So, Monday morning when I woke up I had no inclination to move back to Colorado. Within hours my mind was a tad bit open to the concept, and now... Hm, let's just say that I make my path wherever I go.

Nothing like it.

A lot of people hate rain. I happen to love it. Love, love, love cloudy drizzly days. For some reason sun doesn't appeal to me so much, and lately there has been a lot of rain here in McKinney. I've been in heaven over it. Lovely times on the square with cool breezes and wet awnings. Okay, so we can't sit outside so much, but how much did I sit outside anyway? At night plenty. I love sitting outside after patients and clients have gone and it's just us girls sitting on the gliders outside the French doors talking or just sitting, watching people walk by, having some stop and talk before going on their way.

It's my front porch fetish. Many years ago I built a home with a wrap-around porch. I loved sitting out there almost more than anything else. I took the phone outside and talked with friends. I had my Coronas and lime while watching the sun go down in the back or watching my neighbors come home while sitting in the front. I tended to my roses and then came back to the porch to prop my feet up on the rail and watch the mountains past the field. Hawks would fly overhead. Roosters would noise up across the street, no matter what time of day it was.

And through it all, I planned my escape.

On September 11, 2006 I drove down my driveway in a packed car and a moving van following me. I haven't had a covered porch since.

Until now. And it's so much more fun. I've dealt with insurance companies out there, planned events, and sipped wine with friends. I've listened to the live music inside with the French doors wide open and speakers blasting it down the street.

There's something to be said for front porches. My next home would be lovely with a front porch with a swing where I could sit next to my sweetie, drink wine, kiss, and touch in oh so many ways. Ah, my next venture whenever that comes into play. Right now though, I'm focused on doing what I need to do today. Just today. Finish sending paperwork to our insurance billing agency, rewrite the lyrics to our theme song, reschedule the "Abbey Road" album cover photo shoot, and then go to Cadillac tonight to listen to some great music and dance. There's nothing like it.

Home

Today I've been very sad. It doesn't happen to me very often. My daughter even asked me if I was mad at her. I'm not and never was. It's just so rare that I'm not bubbling with happiness and joy.

Today was different. Today was a culmination of many moments of sadness and all I wanted to do was cry a bit. There's nothing wrong with that. It's an honest and true emotion and I deserved it. I was sad for several reasons, and one I feel is a bit selfish because by my writing about it, I know it will be read by the person I most don't want to read it. I don't want him to be sidetracked by anything, especially me. He's on a roll. He's in the zone, and I want him to stay there. It's an amazing place to be. He's disciplined enough to put me in a compartment that he doesn't think about so he can focus on what he moved to Steamboat to do. I honor that. I so respect that, and still I put in writing something that might alter that just a little.

I'm sad because I'm not with him. I'm sad because I just want to crawl under the sheets and lay with him. There's no place like lying next to him, skin to skin and having his arms wrapped around me. He runs his fingers down my arm and kisses me. I slip a leg over his, and it's just the best feeling I can remember.

I write this knowing that he will probably read this. I also know that he is so disciplined that it won't sidetrack him. I am so happy for him I could just bust. He's doing what he loves. There's just nothing better. Well, maybe doing what he loves and making love with someone he loves would be a bit better.

I told him yesterday that if I had felt this way about him last October when I knew I was moving, I'm not sure a move would have occurred, and I know I am where I belong. So, it's a magnificent thing that I'm here and he's there, but it doesn't keep me from feeling sad sometimes.

If only I could look up from my desk and see him walking through the spa door. If I could walk around the square with him by my side. If we could sit on the couch in Rick's Chophouse bar and drink some wine while listening to Buzz sing. Oh, if only...

I can see him right now sitting in the library typing on his laptop sitting at the table where I first met him almost a year ago. Right now I'm wearing the shirt I had been wearing that day, October 7, 2008. I know what day it was because I opened up a journal of mine and it fell to the page where I was writing and then stopped the entry mid-sentence. Later I wrote that I stopped because a man sat at the table in front of me and we began a conversation. That wasn't all we began. He told me later that he knew when he first saw me that we would make love. Did I know that then? Hm, I know I had high hopes of that happening. I certainly thought about it during our first conversation.

I'm not sad anymore. I am so happy because I remembered that first day I laid eyes on him. I enjoy thinking about him. I relish the memories I have. He is an awesome lover. He told me the last night, actually the morning that I left for McKinney, that he wanted to give me a night I would never forget.

He did. But that's not all that's unforgettable. Neither is he. I even tried. I got involved with someone else, someone I just knew was "the one." Ha! He showed up in town one weekend from his home state and he showed me how disastrous he really was for me. He also showed me how little I really knew about what was good for me, because he truly was everything I thought I wanted. The moment I purged him from my life, I got a call from this kind, gentle, amazing man in Steamboat "out of the blue" and my heart longed for home. I just didn't ever see home as looking like him -- until that phone call.

From the bottom of my heart, I love you, Bo. I love you, I love you, I love you. And I want you to do everything that makes you happy, and if at any point that includes me, what an immense pleasure.

The true meaning of ease and grace

My life continues to amaze me. I met a man last fall right before moving to McKinney. I had been so focused on my new life in a new place that after a few weeks here, I hardly thought of him at all. Instead I chose to fill up my moments with new people and new adventures moment after moment after moment. I was not disappointed.

And lately, all that has shifted. His name shows up as a new friend's son's name, as a name being spoken on TV during my rare times of turning it on, and lastly on my Steamboat key ring that I had been given when first moving there three years ago. I looked at the ring and all the letters had been rubbed off but the two that spelled his name -- Bo.

And he reappeared last June right after an amazing purging of a relationship. Out of the blue, he called. We reconnected as if time had not elapsed since our last conversation six months earlier.

This relationship has been calm and nurturing, loving and so very, very kind. It's been peaceful and warm and oh so lovely. There's never been any drama or accusations or blame. God, it's just been so very, very wonderful. And because of that, because it's been so different from anything else I've ever had, I didn't put much stock in its lasting effect. It's been nearly a year since we first met, and it's still one of those amazing gifts that I enjoy opening over and over.

He recently presented me with one of those gifts during our phone conversations. In the midst of the conversation -- him being at the OldeTown Pub in Steamboat Springs, Colorado drinking and watching some game on the screen, he uttered these words so smoothly: I love you. I love you. I love you.

The words flowed to me like a sweet wisp of a cloud. From head to toe, I felt his energy, and it just felt good. The words were this continual stream of effortless energy that flowed back and forth between us. Ahhh...it was that easy for someone to love me and me love him back. It was just that easy. No explosive fireworks or clanging bells or oh my god he said those three words. It was just warm, sweet, wonderful, and very, very right. It felt like something that I had been waiting for all along that showed up even though I didn't know I was missing it.

When we told each other how we felt, how we missed each other, how we loved each other, it was as if the whole of me became even fuller, more saturated with ease and grace. I felt more capable of loving others. I felt freer to love all more openly.

This is what I've never felt before with another man, the ability to love larger, to love more about others, to freely express my feelings and emotions about anyone and not be hindered or scrutinized.

To love Bo is freeing, free-flying, floating free. It's limitless, airless, and oh so easy. Why did I not recognize this until now? Maybe I was never truly ready for ease until now. Now it's crazy if it's not easy, and I've discovered that real ease is between my ears no matter what's going on around me.

And the magic continues...

Another day in McKinney at The RejuveNation LifeSpa. Honestly, I don't know what to say. I don't know what words are capable of emitting the emotion that I feel at the moment. I am in awe. I am grateful. I am speechless.

Two of my most favorite people in the world showed up here tonight to do a night of trance dancing -- dancing to tribal drumming while blindfolded. Since I had already done it, I helped Silky spot those who were dancing without physical sight. You read that right -- Silky. I love that name. Silky Hart. It not only fits her perfectly but describes her so well too. I watched her dance tonight, and the movements were silky, flowing, effortless, and so graceful. She showed me how fluidity in her body exposed how open and natural she is, so allowing of others to be who they are in the moment, so open to the world of all possibilities and basking in the glow of immense abundance. She glowed with radiance as her hands flowed through the air as she swayed to the beat of the drumming. She was art at its best.

And my other favorite person is Silky's husband Tom. He set up his speakers and drums and soothed us into the beat of the music. Thank you, Tom and Silky, for being a part of my dreams coming true. I am so grateful to the two of you and to all who participated with us tonight. It was truly a night of magic at The RejuveNation LifeSpa.

I showed up here in McKinney last fall to spend my daughter's birthday with her and moved here just two weeks later. A beautiful, gracious, and loving man helped me move without once saying a derogatory word, not once did he utter a syllable of negativity. He packed me up. He moved my studio into the UHaul and then gave me the time of my life. He didn't want me to move, but he didn't say a word about it the whole time he carried boxes down the stairs to the truck. Instead, he helped me go down a path that unfolded my dreams.

And here I am in McKinney, Texas watching those dreams come to life every second I just show up. RejuveNation LifeSpa is magic. We all felt it tonight. People walk by tonight with the doors open and walk in. They tell me they feel it in here. They feel the magic. I do too. It's the magic of knowing I'm okay no matter what. I'm leaping and the net appears over and over and over. The right people and situations walk through the doors every day. I open the doors and dreams unfold. My dreams. The dreams I would've never dreamed before I knew how magical life really is.

So, thank you to all who helped make this happen for me. To my daughter, Dr. Alyssa Summey, you are my greatest gift, my wildest dream come true, and the most magnificent magic. You've taught me to believe in who I really am. Thank you.

Thank you to all who showed up tonight to play in my dream. It was so fun being with you and feeling the love in that room. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

To Tom and Silky. You are the light I choose to be.

And to Bo, thank you for trusting in me, knowing that I was embarking on a necessary journey and believing that our time apart would be temporary. In the meantime, thank you for everything. Absolutely everything. I breathe you in and it is delicious.

Sculpted Memories

I'm sitting here in The Gratitude Cafe where for once it's quiet, and I'm alone. This doesn't happen much because everybody stops in here. There are a lot of people walking around the square right now and pausing every time they pass the French doors.

Right now neon colored 30s are hanging all around the room because Maria Alvarez is throwing herself a birthday party tonight. All those making the preparations just took off to go to Sauce for dinner. This is a fascinating concept to me considering there's a dining room table here filled with food and coolers overflowing with alcohol. Really, I'd be scratching my head at the moment if my fingers weren't so busy typing.

Maria's iPod is playing Barry White right now. It zooms my thoughts right to my conversation with a lovely man this morning. We haven't known each other very long, but from the moment we met there was a real knowingness that something was different about our connection. From the very first time he turned to me and struck up a conversation there was a spark that ignited.

We sculpted beautiful memories together the month before I moved from Steamboat Springs, Colorado to McKinney, Texas, and then the phone calls fell away. My life took off with lightning speed with exciting new adventures. I started new careers, travelled, took amazing workshops with James Arthur Ray, got caught up in a rapturous 5-minute long distance consumption with a man, and the moment I knew it was over, this beautiful man from Steamboat called me after not hearing from him for 6 months.

There are many memories that make me catch my breath, but the main one is the view I had from underneath his firm body and watching the muscles in his arms as he came toward me. Every time that memory flashes in my mind, I forget to breathe.

In a very short time we packed a lot of opportunities to be together, new experiences, new ways of pleasure, and wonderful ways of just being with one another. The images are so vivid that it makes my arms ache to slide them around his back and bury my head against his chest. Ah, that chest, that wonderful, luscious chest. Sometimes the ache surfaces when I least expect it, like when I'm serving champagne to a wedding party or calling an insurance company for a patient's benefits. It feels like a knot twisted in my heart and tears spring into my eyes. I don't have to even be thinking about him. I don't need to be feeling anything but tremendous joy when all of a sudden it lights up in my heart, and I hurt. And just for a moment, or longer, it seems I'd give anything to lie in his arms once again.

Icing on the cake

When I wake up in the mornings, I never know what I'm going to experience throughout the day. I'm always so amazed as it unfolds. Here's my day so far:

I awoke to my daughter's phone, her dog licking my face, and when I looked at my daughter, I saw her lying on top of the covers fully clothed with boots still on. The clock read 8:39. Welcome to my world.

The dog pounced on me, grabbing an arm in his mouth. I struggled to get up, tripping over him as I made my way to the bathroom. Finally, we headed out the door with an empty jug to fill with happy water and leash in hand.

After he took care of his morning business, we headed over to another apartment where a dear friend lives. She supplies me with what we lovingly call our happy water made from a Kangen filter. She so graciously made us coffee while the dog sniffed around the apartment, and before we knew it, we were cackling like high school girls. Thank you, sweet baby Jesus for happy water! There's nothing like it in coffee. I tell you what, that combination makes you feel like you've never left the Garden of Eden! One sip of that tasty brew and there are just no cares in the world.

After my daughter and I got dressed and ready to go out the door, we headed to her spa in downtown McKinney on the square. She took care of a morning patient and then laid down on the couch in the Gratitude Cafe, complaining about not feeling so great after her late night out with the Dallas Defenders, Dallas area law enforcement and firefighters football team. She's the team doctor. I told her she needed a bloody Mary. We were on a mission -- finding a bloody Mary on the square at 11:00 on a Friday morning. Thank goodness for Sauce and bartender Jason because it was taken care of in minutes. I ran into friends who joined us. We ended up having lunch and drinking -- her bloody Mary and my coffee.

Now, she's at The Ritz getting her hair done, and I just got off the phone with Natalie, a friend of mine who works at the history museum down the block. I need information on the history of the building that houses my daughter's Rejuvenation LifeSpa. I'm spending the night in a haunted tea shop tomorrow night with ghost hunters and a Dallas Morning News reporter. The reporter wanted me to see if there's any history to my daughter's office building worth reporting about. You know the typical historical information like was anyone killed here, any ghost sightings, was this a saloon or brothel, or just any typical information that would be listed in historical documents. Yeah, right. And I thought working for a shaman before moving here was different. I see now that working in his office was the only way I would be prepared for living here. What a frickin' trip this life is!

I just received a phone call from another friend who I'm working with tomorrow morning catering a wedding for 50 at an historical building in town. So, after being here in the spa today, I'll be heading over to the haunted tea shop to prepare meals for tomorrow morning. And after that is a wild night at Cadillac Pizza Pub with a local band if I'm not too tired. Because another thing I've learned in this journey called life is that sometimes there's just nothing better than a wonderfully comfy bed with my daughter's dog curled up next to me. Really, everything else is icing on the cake.

A well-traveled road

As soon as it was time to go to college, I left the state I'd spent most of my life in -- Texas. I fled to Colorado. It was a place I had thought about and dreamed about for years. My every waking moment was spent fantasizing about living there. I imagined everything I'd do, how I'd live, and who I'd love. Ask anyone who knew me during high school. John Denver and Colorado were all I ever talked about.

Looking back on those 14-year-old's memories, I realize how few of those fantasies came true. So, what's up with all this hype about the law of attraction -- we attract to us that which we think and feel about? I thought it; I felt it; and I still didn't move to Aspen and become friends with John Denver. That was probably my biggest fantasy. I wanted to travel with him, to help run his show in some way. I didn't know what that would be. I didn't care. I just knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that I could work and travel with this man.

After moving to Gunnison, Colorado for college, I took guitar lessons and learned how to play John Denver songs. I probably still have the music somewhere for "The Eagle and The Hawk." I was a music major playing the piano, and John Denver was not allowed in those classical music halls. Confined in my small room with a captive piano I would play for hours -- Bach, Beethoven, and Chopin, but never John Denver.

I was sitting in a room alone with a piano instead of outside in the Rocky Mountains that John would sing about. I was running my hands up and down a keyboard playing a long-dead musician's piece instead of picking "Rocky Mountain High" beside a river. I would spend hours and hours in a confined room playing the same arpeggios instead of traveling with a band that introduced John Denver to an audience so many nights on the road.

It didn't matter. I knew so strongly that this would come true that I didn't waiver. I kept playing until I was asked to leave the program for lack of a tolerable singing voice and for being tone deaf. I picked up my pen instead and became a writer. I ended up with a degree in English. I use it every day.

One of the first guys I met in Gunnison was from the Aspen area. I even hitchhiked to his mother's house my freshman year and spent the weekend with him there. He was a friend that I never forgot over the years. When I ran away from home with a six-year old daughter, I ran to him, and then again 18 years later when I struggled with a failing marriage and a buried identity.

Just a few short years ago in 2004, I left Boulder county where I was living to go to a symposium in Snowmass near Aspen. The symposium was put on by a John Denver foundation called Windstar. I never made it to the symposium, but I got reacquainted with my college friend. He flew me back to Gunnison where we'd met. We walked the main street where we'd been all those years ago. We talked about all the places we'd gone to there, the people we'd befriended, and what happened in those buildings. But most importantly, while walking down the street we remembered who we once were and who we thought we'd be. It was painful to see the incongruency in it all. It was a turning point, a defining moment for me like none other. It was my 48th birthday, and I was so disappointed with who I'd become.

The dichotomy of who I dreamed I could be and who I had become was such a chasm, I couldn't fathom a way to make it to the side I wanted to be on. The distinction between the two were so evident, so in my face, that it was too painful to not do something about it.

The drive back to Boulder county that day took me two extra hours and I don't remember it at all. I never stopped thinking about how I had to make changes. I didn't know how; I just knew I had to, and one of the first things I wanted to do was learn to fly. My Aspen friend flew me over the Maroon Bells and Pyramid Peak to Gunnison, and it seemed the world opened up to me. There was something inside that blossomed and turned me into someone who could no longer be that simple wife that did what it took to keep peace (in an angry sort of way).

Taking flying lessons was out of the question, according to my then husband. To me the only thing out of the question was to continue being his wife. So, after 27 1/2 years I became single again. After living near Denver and Boulder for all those years, I went back to the mountains in search of me. I went back to the mountains to hibernate for a couple of years and grow into someone I could be proud of.

One of the first people I met was a shaman that I worked with for months before finding out that he and John Denver had been good friends. We worked together in Aspen for a while, driving from Steamboat every week. I met many John Denver friends that way. I still get calls from them. And then last September I took a 5-day workshop with one of John's dearest friends, Tom Crum, on the Journey to Center. It was a John Denver lovefest. There were many participants that had been good friends of John's. I heard so many stories about him. We listened to his music, and his energy was so prevalent that it was palpable.

Within weeks of that workshop, I had moved back to Texas.

So, did all that visualizing/fantasizing mean nothing? Did I really not have my dreams come true? Did I not travel with John?

In the past when I've declared something as mine -- visualizing it and claiming it with affirmations, vision boards, etc. -- it has always shown up, but just not how I think. I've traveled all my adulthood with John Denver. I moved to Colorado in 1974 because of him. I spent many nights in the Aspen area because of him, and I moved back to Texas because of him. Every major event in my life has had a John Denver connection. Every trip back to Aspen has been a defining moment for me. Every experience there and every experience with his friends have helped shape my life into what it is today.

I thought I'd be lugging around guitars with a backstage pass around my neck. I thought I'd be hearing his music live from behind the stage. Instead, I heard him within. I followed the tiny nudges that kept leading me to the next step, and those steps led me to McKinney, Texas in 2008, 34 years after leaving Texas the first time.

I've learned to make my wishes known to the universe. To voice them in the ways I know how and then allow the events to unfold as beautifully and perfectly as they always have. I've learned to wake up to the possibilities in every moment and see the finer connection to all that there is. It's a lovely way to live. I am so grateful. Thank you, John. It's been a well-traveled road back.

The best fourth of July ever...

Before I get into what I want to write about I have to say that I am sooo grateful for the rain and the 82 degrees. When was the last day that it didn't get up to 100? I hear people say that this hot weather is so unusual for this area, and all I want to say is: "THAT'S WHY I LEFT HERE IN '74! IT'S FRICKIN' HOT!" Okay, now that I've said that, I feel so much better and ready to blog about my night last night.

What a very happy fourth and fifth of July it was/is. First of all, my hat's off to Broken Code. You guys, rock. Seriously, do you not get how great you are??? I've heard each of the band members at Cadillac's, but I don't recall hearing all of them play together until last night. Where have you guys been hiding? If I'd had my camera I'd be posting pictures of the great time we had.

They were gracious enough to ask Alyssa and me to get on stage with them and sing, dance, and bang on things (like a tambourine). Hopefully, the music drowned out our voices. There are many things I'd have to say that my daughter and I are great at, but I know for a fact, that our singing abilities really suck. However, once I have a couple of glasses of red wine in me, I can do just about anything and not care. So, all you at Dodie's last night in Allen, I apologize if my voice really did come out on the mic. That was not my intention. I didn't know the mic was on. (yeah right)

I loved dancing and singing to Mustang Sally and Sweet Home Alabama, and I had no idea anyone could play Santana like they did last night except for Santana. I was mesmerized by the guitars and foot pedals that went with them. I majored in music back in the middle ages and I had no idea that there were foot pedals with guitars. Rod and Bob had millions of them. So, there they were picking and strumming with their hands, and their feet were tapping on these pedals. What? When did guitars come with pedals? I had no idea. It opened up a whole new world for me. With my big ol' piano a few hundred years ago, I only had three pedals and they had no lights flashing at me to let me know if my chords were in tune. Rod's and Bob's pedals had red and green lights to let them know if the chords they were playing were in tune, and digital numbers even came up to let them know which chords they were playing. C'mon, how cool is that? Gotta love technology...

I haven't shaken any tambourines in years and to be able to get myself up on stage last night at the age of 52 and shake my money maker was just plain fun. I want to thank Dr. Jim Johnston for a lovely night of food and drink, my daughter, Dr. Alyssa Summey, for playing with me, and to Broken Code -- Alan, Bob, Rod, and Phil, for just letting me play with them. It was a wannabe rock star's dream come true. I certainly hope you guys will let me do it again. I promise not to stick my mouth so close to the mic.

Roots

Today was by far one of the most amazing times of my life. I found myself saying yes to staying here, at least for now.

Since my divorce, I've realized how little I feel the need to commit -- to anything. I love being free and loose with no mortgage and no rent. Until today. Today I sat in Lavender House with seven other women brainstorming about how we can work together and how we can add more value to each other's passions. It was a beautiful way to spend my day. It was lovely. It was like none other, and isn't it amazing that I have had so many of those amazing days since being single, especially since moving to McKinney, Texas?

I intend to be happy and joyful with whatever shows up and know that it's all so perfect no matter what it looks like. This is my one remaining intention. All other goals and intentions have slipped away. Since living my life like this, the most beautiful experiences and people have flowed into my life. Every day is this glorious new adventure that just astounds me with its magical unfolding.

It started when I chose to follow my intuition even though it seemed stupid. A few years ago I had built my dream home with my husband of 25 years at that time. I had a 1200 square foot studio to create in all day and night. I had a balcony built outside the glass sliding doors so I could take my afternoon coffee breaks overlooking the Colorado mountains. There were 40 acres of open space behind me, and in Boulder County that was sacred. Never would a fence be put up alongside it much less any developments. It was pristine and wonderful, and I felt incredibly lonely and in the wrong place with the wrong man, and I was miserable.

Within 2 years I moved to Steamboat Springs because I walked through an open door. I never intended to be in Steamboat. Only knew two people who lived there. What few memories I had of Steamboat were not good ones at all, but I showed up anyway. There seemed to be no logic to this move, but somehow it felt right and it flowed, so I did it.

Two years later I knew why. I made incredible friends and family there, and my growth was exponential. I never put down roots there. I never even made a utilities payment there. I had nothing but a checkbook with my post office box there. I did rent studio space, but I signed on for only a year. I didn't even last that long. I knew it was a short visit, but it was long enough to fall in love with several people and carry them now in my heart.

Last September for my birthday I was given a massage and intuitive reading from a couple of women in Steamboat. I got my session with them somewhere around the first of October. The intuitive told me that I had a man in my energy field. He was so close, and all I had to do was allow him in. She told me that I needed to be more fully me, to feel good in my own skin, and to live who I was. That would bring him forth. She told me I was to wear bright colors because it made me feel good instead of always throwing on the nearest pair of jeans and sweatshirt. She also told me that I needed to leave Steamboat. That one I already knew, but she told me that going where my daughter was would be the ideal spot. I just about came off the massage table on that one, because I had no intention of going back to Dallas. Ever.

The next day I wore a brightly colored shirt and beads and met a man in the library. A little over a month later I moved to Dallas area to be with my daughter. I'm still in touch with the man, and my daughter, Dr. Alyssa Summey, and I are in the midst of an amazing business venture. What's the most miraculous thing though is that I want to put down roots here.

Alyssa left her previous office space to move into one in the square in downtown McKinney. Within 2 weeks what she had been promised fell through and the men involved said they were moving out. That left her with a huge space and a large rent.

But then the real players showed up.

It's still unfolding, but there are many wonderful women coming into our lives wanting to play with us in the most remarkable ways. The miracles that follow are too numerous to count. Every moment is one of awe. It feels as if every breath I ever took has led to this one. That this is what I've been waiting for, and what this is is still an untold story. Right now it looks like everything I ever dreamed of.

And it's a lot of work. It's just the beginning and I foresee many sleepless nights. Already my car's filled with stuff to move in the new space. And it's just the beginning. Did I already mention that?

I'm not afraid of hard labor. I welcome it because it means the beginning of a dream come true.

I'm finally willing to commit to something. I'm finally willing to put down roots. And I'm willing to do it all knowing that the need to move on may show up again.

For all who don't know, we are in the midst of a cold front here in McKinney, Texas. It's 9:37 in the morning and only 82 degrees. I'm looking for my jacket. Wherever did I put my jeans?

The reason I'm looking for clothes at all (and not that it's necessary to wear jeans and jacket right now) is that a shelf in the closet came crashing down and everything needs to be taken out of it to make room for the necessary repairs. The first thing I told my daughter, Alyssa, was that we'd need to patch it. She looks at me like I'm speaking a different language. "Mom," she said, "that's what maintenance is for."

Now, this really hit me. I've been a homeowner most of my life. I'm used to taking care of all the repairs. I either did it myself or had the numbers at the ready of those who could do it for me. What a concept to just call maintenance and they come and fix it and you don't pay for it. This renting thing is nice. Why hadn't I thought of it before?

Do you know how long it's been since I've pulled a weed or watered flower beds? How many years ago was it that I painted my porch railing summer after summer? With a wraparound porch, it took most of the summer too.

Renting, it's a lovely concept. If I want to move, I don't have to put anything on the market and pray for a quick sale.

Really, this is fascinating. I have so much more time because it's not my responsibility to take care of a house and yard anymore. I'm not in charge of those chores anymore. I can put my energy into things that matter to me. This is such a wild concept to me that I'm just reveling in it right now. Even though I haven't been a homeowner in a couple of years, this is the first time something has occurred that needed repairs, and I didn't have to make them. Sweet mother of god, why didn't someone tell me sooner that I didn't have to be responsible???

I feel years younger, more vibrant, and ready to take on the world because I'm not responsible.

I've been responsible since I can remember. Responsibility has weighed heavily on me, and because of it I took life seriously. I took myself seriously. I felt it necessary to figure everything out, how we were going to pay bills, how we were going to take time off for seminars, where our daughter was going to school, how she was going to get there...

Ahhhh, now I breathe. Now I just sit here on this monstrous couch knowing that maintenance is called and all I need do is breathe. Life is not serious. I'm not serious. It's all a game. It's all just fun. Okay, so the flea thing wasn't fun, but it has been my intention to clear things out of my life, and guess what? I got the opportunity to do just that when fleas showed up on the cutest puppy in the world that just happens to be living with me. Actually, I live with him. He and my daughter were here first and I showed up .

Now back to the "cold front."

My computer is still set at Steamboat Springs, Colorado time and weather, so when I open my yahoo account, I get to see 45 degrees as the current weather. I can even almost believe it until I open the front door to the apartment and am hit by the oven-like atmosphere. I'll be talking with a friend from Steamboat who tells me how hot it is there, and I glance at my computer to see the 72 degrees listed. I'm telling you, though, that temperature can feel really hot. I know. What Colorado doesn't have is the humidity. I knew how fortunate I was to live without it for 34 years, but chose instead to jump back into it last November. Back then Texas felt really good when Steamboat was getting hit with snow again, but now? I don't think I can say anything more than how great it feels to be able to call maintenance when something in the apartment needs to be fixed.