Diaries of The Breadman’s Daughter: You Have the Right to Say Yes and to Say No.

12782443_10153356191466846_885274834_n (1)

Girl Warrior. You have the right to say yes and to say no. You always have a choice. Always. It’s critical that you understand the importance of this. Especially at those times when you hit the fork in the road and a decision must be made. If not your life, then your wellbeing could depend on it.

It’s your life, your body, and your mind. It is all sacredly yours to decide how what where when and why you will use it as a means of expression. Only you get to decide what happens to you. This point is a powerful pill. Take it in massive doses.

Do not let anyone tell you differently. Do not allow another to pressure, persuade or push you into anything you do not want to do. Do not be coerced into giving consent or granting permission. Do not surrender your esteemed self. Do not let anyone sweet-talk you into being untrue to the self-respecting warrior you are. Do not enable arm-twisting of any kind.

No matter what.

Do exercise your right to self-determination. Do grow all your spiritual muscles around this notion. Do expand your understanding of the things that matter most to you. Do figure out who belongs on your odyssey and who does not. Do draw your own line in the sand. Do take control of your life. Do manifest your own destiny. Do say yes to the life of your choosing.

Girl Warrior whether it’s yes or no, the choice belongs to you. Only you.

12324882_10153946432065120_84140430_n (2)

IMG_1494 (1)

IMG_2743

IMG_2752

IMG_2774 (1)

IMG_2781

IMG_3086 (1)

IMG_3273 (1)

Diaries of The Breadman’s Daughter: Happy to be Here.

Photo by Melissa Adams.

Photo by Melissa Adams.

It’s been one of those weeks. The up and down roller coaster ride. Good. Bad. With a little bit of random thrown in for good measure. It’s also been one of those weeks that has left me a little bit shaken. Wobbly-kneed and rubber-legged. But grateful. Big time.

It’s easy to be grateful during the good times. Especially when the living is easy. For the good things. All those blessings that we want more of. Happy shiny people all around us. Our dear ones by our side. Full of good health and abundance. Kindness and generosity. Peace love and understanding. The list is endless of all the good things to be thankful for.

But what about the hard times? The sad and tragic days. The difficult seasons of stress, when life feels more like a pressure cooker than a pastoral playground. How do you find gratitude when you feel like giving up? When life is just one super-sized shit show. What about those days when the best you can say is, thanks for nothing? How do you find the place in your spirit where gratefulness and appreciation dwell?

I don’t know.

I do know this. When you have a close call. A brush with death. A collision with calamity. The veil of ambiguity is lifted. You see. With such lucidity. Clarity. And in high definition. At least that’s what happened to me this week.

While driving into work on Thursday morning, I was in an accident with my truck. It happened in an instant. One minute I was stopped at a crosswalk watching the pedestrian at the curb. Then within seconds I was shoved from behind and catapulted into the middle of the intersection.

That woke me up.

I was momentarily stunned by the deafening sound of the truck behind engaging with the rear-end of mine. It sounded worse than it actually was. Once I got my bearings and realized that the only damage was to my truck. No humans were harmed. Everyone involved was alive and kicking. I was grateful.

I am here.  All is well.

Trucks can be repaired. Or replaced. They’re just material things. Temporary impermanent pleasures. Not important in the grand scheme. Humans and all living creatures matter. I’m thankful to have been intimately reminded of the difference.

The young man, who rear-ended the truck, was horrified that he hit me. My heart ached for him. It was just one of those things. He looked away for a second. That’s all it took. Could have happened to anyone. Including me. I’ve had some close calls. We all have. But for the grace of God, goes I. So in our brief exchange, I got well with him, right then and there. On the spot absolution.

I’m grateful for that too.

Truth is, at that moment, my gratitude muscle was in a need of a workout. It had grown complacent. Lazy even. I had said the words “I am grateful” so often, they had grown damn near meaningless. Rather than coming from a sincere place deep within my heart, they rolled off my tongue like liquid gold. By rote. Like rhyming off multiplication tables. They had become a cliched elixir to cover my ass in the spiritual department.

Evolved psychologist, spiritual gurus and preachers advise us to be in a mindful state of constant gratitude, especially if we want to be divinely healthy. Honestly, I thought I was. After all, I am the Queen of Deep. Especially after the year we just had with E and the Big C.  I was spewing words of gratitude like yellow smoke from a factory. I had it down.

Then Thursday morning happened. I am truly grateful to be here. To write this post. To spend a little time with you.

To say thank you.