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Still here. Not sleeping.

I remember that day, the last day, the last time, the last everything. I remember hello’s and good-bye’s. I remember regrets. I remember feelings, sensations and touches.  I remember all of it.

There are times when I can’t breathe, when I can’t catch my breath. When I can’t find my way ahead. When it feels like it’s all in vain. When it feels like I finally overstepped my destiny. Went to far.  Exceeded the speed limit.  Took too much.

And then there are times when I feel like there isn’t enough time to do what I have yet to do.  To feel what I have yet to feel.  To be heard. To be seen. To be the person that I couldn’t be back then, because I didn’t know that she existed. I didn’t know that she was possible.

And there are times that I lay away at night, in the darkness, and the quiet, and I just breathe.  Inhale. Exhale. Repeat. Until finally my body falls away from my mind, and I am able to drift off for three hours before  I have to get up again.

And I know that this is what is supposed to be, otherwise, I would not be compelled.  I just don’t know why.

And therein lies the adventure.  I am still here. Living. Loving. Falling. Landing. Feeling. Numbing. Breathing. But not sleeping. 

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50 over 50

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That time is finite
That beauty is subjective
That every day
 both time and beauty
as it was defined mere seconds ago
changes.
That life is too short to fade away into the background of time.
That life is too short not to ask for what you want, and expect it.
That life is too short to wait, and wish.
That there is a price to pay, but the time spent wishing is a greater loss.
otherwise I know
nothing.

Not sobbing. Just streaming tears.

For my friend, D. 

Arms stretched forward, heels together, and legs reaching the outer edges of my towel,  I close my eyes, breathing, listening to the sound of my breath,  paying attention to its cadence, to its depth.  With each breath, my chest would rise and fill, my spine lifting and releasing. 
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to cradle it back to life.   
Breath comes in. Breath leaves.  Body lifts, then lowers, lifts, then lowers.   My chest falls closer to the bathroom floor.  Knees widening as the weight of my body pushes its way through
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Living an Audacious Life, in Shoes.

I am just flying home after a week in Vancouver, visiting inspiring shops, and buying shoes for the fall season. This is our third buy since taking over the store and giving it a new life.

The word for this fall season is "Audacious".

To have the audacity to stand up and stand out in your own personal vision of who you are.
To have the audacity to walk into a room and own it.
To have the audacity to know what you want, and to go for it, unabashedly.
To have the audacity to fall in love, and learn to land on the way down.
To have the audacity to   . . . you.

Everyone asks if this is my dream come true, and I guess on days like this it is.