Diaries of The Breadman’s Daughter: Take Good Care of Yourself.

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Girl Warrior. Take good care of yourself. Do whatever it takes to be physically healthy. All the days of your life. Do it for yourself. And for all the people who love you. Be active in every arena of your life.

Find the thing that moves you. Go to the gym. Take a fitness class. Play a sport. Be part of the team. Or go it alone. Do the Sun Salutation every morning in the tranquility of your bedroom. Walk the dog after supper. Chase the cat around the yard. Climb a mountain. Run down the hill. Swim circles around the competition. Pole dance. Or plié at the barre. Go fly a kite. Or paddle a canoe.

Whatever floats your boat. Makes you feel alive and well in your skin. You don’t have to master it. You just have to do it. Get off the couch, away from the table, or out of the bed. That’s half the battle. You need to be strong Girl Warrior. Fit as a fiddle and in fighting form.

Ready for anything.

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Diaries of The Breadman’s Daughter: Don’t Waste Your Pretty.

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Girl Warrior. Don’t waste your pretty on anyone who is unworthy. Consider that thought for a moment. Let it sink in. Allow it to ooze into the deepest place inside your generous heart and beautiful mind. For it is here that you will know the truth.

And the truth is Girl Warrior you are one fabulous chick.

You deserve to be surrounded by sweet heart-stopping goodness. Pure and simple. Drop anything less than that like a bad habit. Kick their sorry ass to the curb. Don’t wave or blow a kiss goodbye. Put them in your rear view mirror. Permanently. Save all your heavenly kisses for the good ones. For they are out there just waiting for your warm embrace.

Be radical about this knowledge. Wrap your brilliant brain around this information. Fill your soul with this awareness. Grasp the importance of this concept. And hold onto this big idea for dear life.

Seek extravagant love. The best love. The kind of love that is true to the marrow. That sees, with breathtaking clarity, your pretty in all its magical complicated layers. The kind of love that holds like crazy-glue. No matter what.

Because Girl Warrior, your pretty is too precious to be unappreciated.

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Diaries of The Breadman’s Daughter: My Yoga.

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In many ways yoga has saved my life. Or at the very least kept me from being a total train wreck. My daily practice has taught me how to keep my feet firmly planted on the ground. And my spirit ever reaching for heaven. It has opened my eyes to the exquisiteness of my life in its domestic ordinariness. The beauty of the day-to-day. The rhythm of regular rituals. The well-crafted commonplace I love.

For I am an ordinary woman.

My yoga has aged with me. I can no longer do the poses the way I once did. But I can still bend and fold and breathe. And allow grace to gently do the rest. I surrender to a higher wisdom.

I salute the sun and whisper thank you to the morning light.

These photos were taken by daughter, Melissa Adams in our living room where I do my yoga every morning.

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Diaries of The Breadman’s Daughter: A Mother’s Prayer for Peace.

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Dear God,

It’s the middle of the night,

And I cannot sleep.

The rain is pounding on the roof

And the wind is howling outside my window.

But I am safe and warm,

Comforted by my feather duvet.

My faithful dog curled up at my feet

And my husband breathing softly next to me

Our children safe in their beds

Surrendered to dreams,

Sweet sweet dreams.

Yet my heart is not at peace,

It is broken with sadness.

For out there

Somewhere in a world I do not know

In countries I’ve only seen on TV

Are other families

With mothers just like me,

Who but for your gentle grace

Live a different life.

One not privileged with

Warm safe beds to rest,

To sleep, to dream of tomorrow.

Their lives, every bit as precious as mine

Are torn apart and shattered –

By fear

And hate

And hunger

And disease

And disaster

And ignorance

WAR.

I pray for these loving mothers

And for their dear families

That they ALL

Each and every one

Have what I have

And know, truly know

What it’s like

To go to bed at night

And NOT be filled with fear

That their beautiful child,

Every bit as precious as mine,

Won’t be harmed

Or blown to pieces

By an enemy no one really knows.

God, I pray that all these mothers

Know at least one moment of peace.

And that that moment grows and grows

Like a wave across the world.

A graceful, gentle, loving wave of peace.

It begins with one moment

And grows from moment to moment.

It begins with one mother

And grows from mother to mother.

And it saves one child

And grows from child to child.

May we share this moment of peace

Mothers of the world.

Now I lay me down to sleep.

Amen.

In gratitude and love,

boo king

Photo on 2015-05-09 at 11.57 AM

 

 

Diaries of The Breadman’s Daughter: The Maple Tree.

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I have a Maple Tree in my front yard.

I brought it with me from Ontario as a tiny sapling.

I removed it gingerly from its mother tree the morning I left to return to BC.

I wrapped it in a wet paper towel and a plastic baggy.

I placed it carefully into my purse where it journeyed across Canada with me.

I loved it so and made a promise to my parents to take good care of it.

I planted it temporarily in a small terracotta pot.

I replanted it and replanted it into ever-bigger pots that sat on my sunny patio.

I watched as it grew and grew until it was the same height as me.

I bought a little white house after my parents died just around the corner from the rental.

I lovingly removed the Maple Tree from its final pot made from a wooden barrel.

I planted it permanently in the front yard deeply anchored in the solid earth.

I called it Marion after my mother.

She is well over twenty feet tall now.

She is far bigger than my mother could have ever imagined.

She is a faithful reminder of my mother and the life we shared.

She provides a welcome canopy of shade.

She keeps my front room cool and comfortable in the summertime.

She is beautifully naked and oh so graceful in the winter.

She quietly stands guard and watches over this little white house.

She is eternally helpful and obliging that way.

She also makes me feel safe in the shelter of her branches.

She changes color with the seasons but not the way her mother tree did back in Ontario.

She wonders about some of those autumn colors of her lineage.

She ponders the reason they are missing from her leaves.

She thinks her mother tree looked divine in a particular shade of red.

She mourns the loss of the things she did not inherit.

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Diaries of The Breadman’s Daughter: Never Give Up.

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Girl Warrior. Never give up. No matter what. Go get all the wonderful and truly wicked things you want out of this life. Chase unapologetically after your dreams. Pursue them persistently. Passionately. Purposefully.

Follow your bliss. Wherever it takes you. This is your quest. All yours Girl Warrior. Imagine that beautiful butterfly.

There will be obstacles in your path. Guaranteed. Road blocks. Landslides. Washouts. Detours, diversions and distractions. All kinds of barriers, hurdles and little sneaky snags. It’s okay if you trip and fall when you hit one of these. Your job is to get back in the saddle, on the bike, behind the wheel, on your feet. Don’t hesitate when this happens. Steady yourself. Stay on course. Reset your sights if need be. Do whatever it takes. The idea is to keep heading in the direction of your brass ring.

Keep your wits about you. Not everyone will get what you’re doing. Along the way you’ll encounter dream crushers and naysayers. These are easy to spot because they are the ones who are quick to squash, smash and suppress the desires of your brave lion-heart. Shut their voices down quickly and carry on. The tougher ones are the well-meaning folks, who for whatever reason, don’t get behind your calling. Wish these people well, bless them, love them, and move on.

Know that you are tougher than any storm. There isn’t anything you can’t weather. Go out there and be someone’s pain in the ass. Be the squeaky wheel that insists on being oiled. Be tenacious. Courageous. Audacious. Strong-willed and stubborn as a mule if need be.

But always be patiently persistent. Remember this on the dark days. It will pay off big-time in the end Girl Warrior.

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Diaries of The Breadman’s Daughter: Find Your Tribe.

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Girl Warrior. Find your tribe. Your pack. Your posse. Your band of sisters and brothers. Surround yourself with people you trust, respect and enjoy. You don’t have to always agree. You don’t even have to always get along.

But these are the faithful ones. Loyal. Steadfast. And true. The ones who will be there for you. With you. By your side. The ones who have your back.

And will hold your hair back while you barf.

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