Eating My Weedies!

20150527_082002_NE Carrie Ln

Fresh filtered water 2-3 cups
A bosc pear
Some dandelions from my back yard
A gripful of barley or wheat grass (pre-blended with water and stained)
A handful of frozen berries
A bunch of parsley
A little nib of ginger

Blend all lovely ingredients for 30 seconds on high, pour into a glass, then drink–for a light natural high. (Be careful with the amount of grass. Whew!)

Green smoothies made from foraged weeds, are becoming a mainstay for me. This is a seriously creative fun way to live.

A toast beauties, to health! To living outside the box! To seeing the wealth around us! To questioning! To love!


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Fit Feels


“Nothing tastes as good as fit feels.”

I like this. This little inspirational quote was up on the white board at the gym where my boyfriend works out, and where he coaches me on Wednesday mornings–one of the best parts of the week. (Smile) We looked at the saying a few days back, and we pondered its meaning as we worked our leg biceps and crunched our quads.

I wonder: Is that really true? As I type here and munch away on my homemade chocolate-flax-vegan-protein-powder cookie, I think this little nugget just might be true. Fit just might feel better, than this cookie tastes. Maybe. It’s not like I can’t have ONE of these, then eat a little less later, right? Being fit isn’t about eternal deprivation, right?

I think being fit is pure, hedonistic joy. THINK. I’d actually like to FEEL this. A plump, protruding abdomen–eh, not so much. But, how do I know “fit feels” at a deeper feeling that leads to the action of conscious eating? Sometimes I feel just so darned weak-willed. And, I make the most delicious things on the planet!

The boyfriend-coach says just keep building muscle, keep eating and the whole thing will work itself out. Hmmm… For now, I’m trying that.

Just thinking.
Be well beauties.

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My Enduring Feel-Good Hobby


It’s been three years since I first contracted the Kombucha bug, and I’ve hardly glanced back. Instead, it’s been a constant fascination and evolution of process and product, that never ceases to intrigue me: I keep brewing! I keep tweaking the recipe! I keep “throwing back” (drinking with gusto) bottle after bottle!

When I’m feeling “off,” I swig a little shot of the bitter, effervescent, amber elixir and somehow I become as right as rain. Ph? Flora? A little alcohol? Not sure, and nearly impossible to test.

I just feel pretty darned fine!

A toast: to finding our own groovy place, that thing that just works, the hobby that satisfies.

Love and lettuce,

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Wisdom of Retreat


So, if retreating is a natural thing we humans do, could we fashion a more elegant, mindful way of living its truth?

I’ll be right back.
Smile. Touch. I’m going to the park to huck my disc. I’ll be right back.
Hey Sweetie. I’m going to go write for a while. I’m in my office if you need me.
Acknowledge the other’s funk and smile, kiss and know it’s not about me.

What about every day connection?

I’m going to lie on the couch. Want to join me?
Come over and crawl in bed with me.
I need you. Where are you? I’m on my way.
I have a problem with my sink. Will you come take a look?

Still learning. Still loving. Still experimenting.

A toast to love.

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At the Edge: A Father’s Advice

Yoga on the beach 2015

Getting my infusion of fatherly wisdom, both from my Step-father Tom and my lover’s dad Richard. This morning feels like a collision with the Divine.

Tom cheered for me in his simple, calm fatherly ways. Richard, like Richard is, was inspired and energetic and ready to infuse me with new ways of thinking.

Richard and I talked about coming to our edges, and becoming more alive, as a way of life. (It all comes down to exercise with Richard.) “Sustaining and Embracing a Mindful Edge,” he thoughtfully tries out. (Hmmm…I nod.) “Surrendering and Reverence to the Edge,” Richard experiments again and decides he likes that one. Richard goes on to speak of restoration and a recreation of the soul and recreating life itself–through physical practice. “Let go,” he says. “Surrender. Breathe. Gather. Nurture. Get ready. Move. Express. Then move onto your stage of life!” he says triumphantly. “Mindfully moving to your edge,” he continues. “Mindful meditation at the edge. Let go. Surrender. Recreate.”

Richard invited me to go to some edge today, in some way. I told him a story of how I went to an emotional-spritual edge just yesterday with his son. And, I agreed, it was a deeply enlivening creation-recreation-restoration experience.

I imagined for a time while he spoke and then after I hung up the phone, what this edge concept really looked like. I can bring up in my mind’s eye, being at the edge of cardio exhaustion, or being at the edge of muscle failure, or sitting at the edge in a yoga asana, as deep as I can go (safely)–all at the edge of what I can do that particular day. And at those moments I imagine drifting into my core and meditating on this new place I’ve come to, and then maybe letting that physical creation energy flow into the rest of my life, possibly into my relationship or my work–my writing! It’s all connected, right?

Interesting morning, especially in light of the conversation I had with his son just yesterday.

Thank you Tom, for your gentle openness today. Thank you Richard for your big, physical bits of soul wisdom. Thank you Divine, for what you’re revealing to my body, my soul and my life!

Blessings from the Edge!

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Twenty Minutes No Matter What

2012-06-16 13.19.39

“Twenty minutes no matter what,” my very fit friend says in response my question.

“Cardio, you’re talking,” I clarify, because I can’t imagine this man ever doing just twenty minutes of exercise. He’s confessed recently to usually getting in five to six, three-hour workouts per week–more than I usually work.

“Yep,” he says. It’s simple for him. Well, sort of.

“Even if you don’t feel well?” I venture, thinking of all the reasons I sometimes come up with for not working out.

“Well, I figure I showed up, you know? So, I just ride the bike; walk the treadmill; climb the stair-stepping machine–whatever. I make it my rule, then at the end of twenty minutes, if I’m not feeling it, I stop. Usually once I warm up, I’m more energized and getting into a groove. Most of the time I’ll knock out another twenty or more minutes of cardio, especially if there’s a good movie playing on the big screen in the cardio room, or I’ll head right into my lifting-cross-fitness routine.”

“What motivates you to get in there? To keep going?” I’ve always wondered this: Why do some of people succeed at this whole fitness-health thing, and others just don’t?

“It’s my thing. I feel fantastic as I’m doing it. I love to feel strong.” This seemed an oversimplified explanation of his fifteen to eighteen hour-a-week habit, so I asked another very fit, exercise-as-second-job, female this time.

“Is this kind of commitment/compulsion a replacement for anything?”

“You mean like alcohol or sex?” she smiles.

“Yeah, like that” I whisper. Interesting…. but kind of a side note. Or maybe not. If you’re going to be addicted to something…

Now, another co-worker power-lifts and he recommended just adding dead-lifts and squats to my routine, in this case, in order to lose weight.

So, I’ve always wanted to lose ten pounds, and as I’ve conversed with these and other male bodybuilders, they’ve all said the same thing: Muscle actually pushes out the fat. Gain a little muscle and you WILL lose weight.

I will have to say I was skeptical, but who can argue with success? My male friends do look pretty damn good. And, with that increased muscle they huck a disc (disc golf) like crazy.

So, I worked out a couple of times with that first, off-beat fitness guy, though I will have to say, I was initially intimidated: Me a cushy novice; He a ripped and seasoned hard-body.

The results: Nearly immediate! I felt stronger. Within two sessions, people were asking what I was doing. I felt stronger. I felt the possibility growing inside me, along with the muscle.

Then, I wondered: Could this improve my disc golf game? Could I ache less? Would I be more resistant to injury in yoga?


So, maybe START with twenty minutes no matter what: Then feel the strength; see the emerging curves; embrace the niggling inspiration; enjoy the pain-free joints…and who knows what’s next?

Maybe that book?

A toast beauties. I’m lifting my ten-pound barbell overhead, and imagining all that building muscle can bring us.

Love and Lettuce,

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Just Three Things

Clay bowl Soup

A friend of mine counsels at our local hospital as a dietician, where many patients are admitted with life threatening illnesses, caused by simple choices they make every single day. When my dietician friend initially reads the patient’s chart, before the consultation, her most frequent response is “Please tell me someone is in error, that this weight is really pounds, not kilos.” But when she enters the hospital room their doughy, bloated misery is propped up in the hospital bed, IV pumping who knows what life saving fluid into their vein.

“What do you tell them?” I ask. She says she asks them questions about their life, and knows it will be a long road to wellness, IF they choose it. Many do not, she says–even if it would save their life. Many choose obesity. Many choose illness. Many choose pain. My friend shrugs and says there’s nothing she can do about it, that she’s glad she can help those who want her help.

“So, some want your help, right?” She nods and says she gives them a list of changes they can make. I nod. Nothing new there. Then she tells them to choose three things they can do that will change their lives TODAY. Okay, I think. Then I tell them, she adds, make it measurable–some sort of visual representation of the process, like a chart or a board, or pictures–something that will track progress. She says the likelihood of success is greatly improved with this last simple step. She also says that sometimes the new habits are the goal.

“Not: 108 pounds, 12% body fat?” I ask. She says no. She says these clients get discouraged with the enormous task in front of them, and with the habit being the goal, these folks are successful every single day!

So, this got me thinking. Three things:

1. Do yoga 60 minutes every day.
2. Eat only what’s in my clay bowl, while sitting at the table.
3. Drink 24 ounces of water between each meal.

Keep track of my progress with a point system on the calendar I have attached to my fridge with a clip magnet.

The simplicity makes sense to me. I’ve been creating my new habits for just over a week now. I really am staying more focused than I ever have. I am heartened.

Cheers Lovelies! To creating lifestyle, habits and practices!

Love and Lettuce,

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IUD’s and Copper Toxicity


Fascinating article. I was in meditation yesterday, and afterwards felt compelled to have my IUD (birth control for the uninitiated) removed. Then today, while researching this little copper-wrapped, T-shaped baby, I came across many side effects including something called “copper toxicity” and was astounded at what I found. I think I’m going to be feeling a whole lot better soon!

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“Give it up girl,” he says after listening patiently to me tell another woman’s story. “That’s very nice for Cherie, but I’m waiting for what you have to say.”

Jesus, I thought I am an adult woman. Why is this so hard? I nod and measure my breaths into even and silent in-and-outs. I close my eyes and a tentative smile stretches my lips into a flat curve. Then what were my words, dissolve into smoke and drift lazily out of me, like incense, then float through the parked car’s half-open window. I watch the now indiscernible words, carried away on the light, cool wind of the March night.

He’s waiting, all easy and quiet, leaning against the car door. I can only hear the water-rushing sound inside my own head. He draws in a breath and holds it, as he’s holding what he just realized: All is not well. He exhales and with a smiling sigh, nods. He knew this day would come.

“Come in,” he says finally. “My girls can wait. This is important.” My face is hot, both with the sticky words caught in my throat, cutting off my air, and with the surprising notion that he actually wants to know.

Once inside he points to the futon-couch, covered in a t-shirt-soft, burgundy-colored material—the very same color as the dress I wore on our first date. I lower myself onto the place I know his girls sleep when they stay with their Dad, and I run my hand over the soft fabric, which catches on my dry finger tips. I pull my hands into my lap and sneak a look into his golden eyes, which are fixed on me, waiting.

“I’ll do anything,” he starts. “Just be specific.” I am suddenly aware of the fullness in my chest, and the physical sensation both startles and amuses me. I settle into this new sensation, and something occurs to me: What I thought was his—is mine: I own this thing–my own desire; my own need; my own voice. I looked into his well-intentioned eyes, my gut swimming with a mixture of hope and doubt… and I ask anyway.

I figure it’s all practice, all just a grand experiment towards becoming ever more open and loving.

Cheers Lovelies–to speaking up, because we can, because we are that!

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Clay Bowl Meals


Simple meals most of the time: I think that’s my answer to living high and feeling fine! If the food isn’t in the clay bowl, I don’t need it. This really cuts down on snacking, and this combo leaves me feeling great!

Here’s my formula: Leafy greens, veggies, fermented foods, some protein and a little starch with the occasional sea vegetable. Winner! Winner!

When making a shift the simpler you can make it, the better. You have a combo that works for you? Share it!

Clay Bowl Meal

Greens (Kale, lettuce, spinach, dandelion greens)
Steamed vegetable
Miso (I like chickpea)
Protein (chicken, fish, hemp, eggs)
Legume (black beans, peas, garbanzos)
Maybe a sea vegetable like hijiki or nori
Maybe a 1/4 cup quinoa or millet (or a little yam)
Sriracha sauce

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