I used to speak about the "Circle of Life" as though I were 80 years old and looking back on it.

"Oh, you're born, you grow up, you live, you become an adult, get married, have children, then they have children and then you die (though not necessarily in that order these days)."

But I am in fact inside the circle right now in this very moment.

It's spinning but I'm very still.

I see my 9-year-old daughter texting my father - her grandfather - and the tenderness with which he talks to her and

suddenly I'm 9 years old again.

Sliding back in that circle of time, I'm awkward in my own skin. I'm wearing a yellow shirt and orange shorts and my dad is trying to brush my long hair with his left hand. It's frizzy and my outfit doesn't match and by all accounts I'm a mess

but he thinks I'm pretty anyway.

I could feel it then but only now, inside the circle and very still,  do I have the words.

The words which my daughter now feels and will speak of when she's a mother.

I want to tell her about this circle but she needs to grow inside of it to feel alive in it her whole life.

I watch my mother cradle my children in her arms and cook them their favorite foods and

suddenly I'm in high school opening my packed lunch.

The root beer is on the bottom wrapped in a napkin so it doesn't fall through the bag.

The chicken sandwich with lettuce and mayo sits carefully on top of that so that it's cold all day.

My favorite snacks are gently placed on top of that, 

followed by the love note which is the first thing I see.

"I love you princess, Love Mom"

Oh, mom, you didn't even have to say it because I felt it then.

But only now, inside the circle and very still, do I have the words.

The words which my kids now feel and will know when they, too, are parents.

My brother tucks two lottery tickets inside my daughter's birthday card

with words of love that she understands.

"I love you more than Katy Perry loves fireworks, 

more than Taylor Swift loves umbrellas."

And suddenly I'm 7 years old in an oversized t-shirt crawling into my brother's bunk bed.

I'm scared but he doesn't say anything, he just scoots over and makes room.

Together they scratch off the lottery tickets.

But they've already won the jackpot of a lifetime.

He loves her like none other and she knows it. 

 She feels it because she's inside the circle too.

This morning I walked in my daughter's room and there, snuggled next to her,

is her little brother, curled up in a ball next to her warmth and I know that she must have made room for him last night in her bed because he, too, was scared.

Suddenly I am as still as ever.

Spinning slowly inside the circle but yet very still.

I want to keep spinning inside this Circle of Life

and be as present as I can be in this moment.

~ ~ ~

You're spinning too, right now on this planet Earth.

Very, very slowly.

But are you spinning slowly inside your life circle?

Slowly enough to realize that your life isn't square?

I invite you to spin still with me.

~ L ~

ad-ap-ta-tion; noun

In Death Valley, the hottest place on Earth with temps up to 134 degrees, 

Coyotes can scrape by on grubs and lizards whereas most other animals fail to survive.

I thought about this fact during the first two months at my new gym, my new home away from home.

  "Why do I feel so out of place here?", I thought.

Everything seemed foreign even though I'd been doing similar exercise for years.

There's no way I'm gonna like this place, I told myself.  

It's too.....different.  

I hated on it right away. Why is the floor like this? 

Who are these people?

And why didn't they notice when I was away for two weeks?

They should have called me dammit - what if I was dead?

I wanted to quit, but I'd been here before.

Here, in the quit pits of my own mind.

Alright, I thought, "Are you going to be the sea otter out of place in the desert or are you going to be the coyote?"

Day after day, I got more pissed off at myself for walking in and feeling so out of place.

I knew it wasn't them or the place or the room, the floor, the bars or the cubbies that wouldn't fit my drink.  

And that's what pissed me off most.

----->  It was ME.  <-----

"What do you want from this place, Lauren? From these People?

Do you want a cookie for doing a pull-up? 

Do you expect to be any more than a stranger to anyone here?"

Ugh, there I was, all caught up in the middle of a life lesson.

But what do I learn from this?

My answer was clear today.

They announced the workout. I'd be trying "butterfly" style pull-ups for the first time today.

I immediately hated the thought.  Hating on it already.

I can't do this. I'm going to fail. I want to do a regular pull up for crying out loud.

I'm good at those.

Think of the Coyote, Lauren.

Take it by the 'horns' and get up there and 

butterfly the shit out of the air,

out of your head and all its negative residual clutter up there.

You're a walking, thinking, breathing mammal, a machine

who can more than survive in these four walls

because the coyote THRIVES in Death Valley for god's sake!

I went for it with a new attitude.

One that had subsided in me over the past few months,

that was lurking in the dark valley of pity and quit and fear.

I did it.

And do you know, I was GOOD at it!

It was the surprise that I needed from no one else but me.

It was the lizard the coyote found under a rock after nearly starving.

As soon as I noticed me, so did the others, the 'others' that DID in fact notice that I was gone.

Maybe I hadn't noticed I was gone because I was never really........there.

But now here I was. 

Finally.

Home.

It's in a neighborhood near determination, 

across the street from courage

and on the other side of the tracks from fear.

You can find me there.

Keep feeding your mind the right food, L.

Eat a lizard and like it. 

Butterfly anything once.

Lesson: Adaptation

scabs and scars

The relief that comes when scratching an itch can be heaven.

It feels so good while it's happening.

But shortly thereafter comes the red skin followed by the burn.

Was the immediate scratch and relief worth 

the aftermath of raw skin and burn?

Does your answer depend on how long the burn takes to go away?

Or if a scar forms?

Such was the thought running through my head 

the other night in my bathtub

when the burning sensation of the scratch aftermath

interrupted my sanctuary of comfort 

and reminded me to pay attention next time with forethought.

 ~ Food for thought on this first day of September. ~

~ L