Here is the note I reference in today’s podcast…thank you to atom for some truly incredible immersive art. Kind of a complete departure from “normal.”

Anyway, I had to link to this because the visual so exactly captures how I have imagined (without any conscious work) the way I see Reality, vs how you do, or they do, or really anyone does. It’s all through little round windows, and it’s not precisely that we distort the view, as that we are looking at a “view” at all, and never really the whole thing.

And I really am wondering if one can ever truly leave one’s “spaceship.” The jury is out. I pull from so many stories in my Imaginal Realm, which is how I navigate the stories I tell myself, which then inform my actions, observable behaviours, and in turn, what I see out my window as I steer through the cosmos. I love the Pern novels, and so when I talk about the possibility of “landing,” and “exiting,” I’m probably thinking most fondly of Anne McCaffrey’s Dragonrider world. Ah well. I digress.

Hope you enjoy this podcast, and that it sets you to wondering what more you could see, or become aware of, if only you had access to a few more portholes? I sure do. Meanwhile, enjoy atom’s art, and have a great and well-protected (maybe through other means than armour??) weekend.

Ahh. Grace, softness, space…my 2026 words. Not so easy to embody, every day. In the real world, I struggle for balance and sometimes have to pick myself up again…

May as well not write too much here as I certainly had a lot to say on my walk. Join me! It’s sunny and you can’t feel the wind chill (which is a nice thing for you!).

I really hope you can find time to listen to this one. I’m getting closer to the real deal here. I have always struggled with leaving home, coming back home, and how I feel (at times) safer, more congruent, and just plain old more authentic when I’m out and about rather than in the four walled structure that I have tended to think is where I reside.

I’m playing with the terms “real,” and “imaginal” here, too. It seems to me that “real” could mean what is scientifically observable on our outsides - the shared environment which has form and texture and hue and so on. However, “real” could also refer to that which is most essential to what happens next - the causes that create effects, rather than just those obvious effects.

As it relates to home, I am challenging the idea in my own past and deep neural architecture that it is an insecure possession, a container of things, a sort of disappointing and vaguely shame-filled conceptual ideal where “love” should happen, and so often does not.

What if HOME was available, deeply and richly present, all full of love, beauty, intention, identity, and magic already? What if HOME was not just for those with lots of money, or skills, or emotional energy and intact relationships and identities that others find inoffensive? What if HOME was something we each carry, can build without objects, or scarcity of any type, and where we most accurately work from, rather than towards?

What, in that case, would be the most REAL home we could label, and what would simply be the best compromise we can come up with between what we can envision, and what our bodies and pocketbooks can afford?

Hope you get a chance to follow along, and as always, I’d love to hear your thoughts, feelings, and even sensory impressions of this particular take on a concept we often take for granted, but all deeply, clearly, need.

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Both need the same things: respectful dialogue, presumed competence, manners, clear signals, and some chances to learn. You know, just the basics. Decent common sense stuff.

It’s nice to have a horse to model what my nervous system is likely also feeling, this Wednesday. I am noticing that routine, repetition, slowing down the conversational “pace,” and also allowing my Heart to tell me all the stuff she’s noticing that’s good about my life, are all fairly calming and organizing practices. I’m inviting you along, as usual, just in case your own nervous system lacks a handy 1000 lb avatar.

Have a great day, even though it’s still January, and still cold. We get through these wintry seasons, one task, one meal, one walk at a time.

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I’m just about at a one year mark in this Substack project. I’ve tried to just describe what I see, keeping a bit back (well, I’ve kept a lot back, actually). However it is starting to be apparent even to me, even in the middle of it all, that I’ve come from one place, and am now in another. And it has been tough slogging, with a lot of doubling back, checking each step for traps, and pausing, to catch my breath; gather my courage.

I appreciate you quietly reading along, reaching out with little encouragements here and there, and offering support in so many ways. That has meant a lot, even when I haven’t taken you up on the offers (mostly because of all the stuff I’m still holding back). However, I do have more confidence in the perspective I’m building as having some merit in real time, in the physical world of cause and effect and milk that spills and snow that falls. The seed of an idea: that I could have a home; that I’m entitled to a place in the world, and that this place, this space, is my primary job to both inhabit, and also enliven, has taken hold and is growing.

So much so that I can afford to finally take a look back, to where I spent most of my life, to the country of what was, for me, homelessness, and a sort of soul wandering, and compare it to this rooted, grounded, tender but stubborn sort of faith.

This is better. I’m happier here. Think I’ll stay on this side of this fence.

But, it is okay to take one last look, and then move ahead, keep going, resume the good work of home-building. Or building a way to work from home. Or just becoming a home for my work, my play, my self.

This was a fun one. And gave me a ton of emotional information. I’m working on getting better at paying attention to what I’m paying attention to!

Anxiety in my animals really does cause me a cascade of internal alarms, and depending on how well I’m doing, it can cause me to escalate into care, or into vigilance, or even into irritation at their “neediness.” And that there is instructive, isn’t it? Using “neediness” to denote another’s general low character, weakness, or simple lack of will or drive or what-have-you is quite embedded in our Western culture. It’s almost the worst descriptor I can think of, a kind of soft slur that denotes nothing good.

How do I feel when I am “needy?” I feel weak, ashamed, like I’ve failed. I desperately want and crave and…need something. Maybe attention, maybe resources directed thoughtfully and skillfully my way. Maybe I’m not sure what I need, just that I don’t feel adequate for what’s being asked of me.

Placing that description up against the fact that we all need help, sometimes, and that asking for help requires a successive chain of events that is entirely under the category of fighting to live…makes me wonder if we haven’t inherited a prejudice or two that disincentivizes us from self-care in the most logical sense. If I don’t think that being needy is morally okay, I’m going to do everything I can to hide my neediness. Because I sure can’t stop being needy, just because my culture thinks it’s shameful. I need a lot. So does everyone. It would be so much better if we could normalize and even value the polite and clear requests for help that would allow us to actually support our most vulnerable, and even our apparently less vulnerable, group members.

So…I’m trying something with Tundra, once again, that may help me dislodge some very stuck thinking that I no longer agree will help me in becoming the person I want to be. I’m going to respond to slightly anxious behaviour, not as a behavioural problem, but as if it is indicating a need for more….support.

Come along and let me know what you think!

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It’s nice to be back! I missed this (the last two weeks) but was following my own new principles of self-care and care of my inner team and all that jazz. Only so much that I can do, even though I have so many words, and I process oh so verbally.

This one is about the difference between my story and yours. As defined (here in the middle of Canada in the middle of winter) by the small circular light thrown by my toque. As I try not to get hay in my nose and willow branches in my eyes.

I can see a little, but not a lot. I see the outsides of you, and you see the outsides of me, but neither of us can really inhabit the centre of the “light” the other one is throwing. We are just ourselves, taking our own small steps and actions, seeing what we see, and usually kinda making up the rest.

However, it is possible to shift perspectives within our own small selves, and that is really what I’m talking about today. Join me on my comfortable fence, looking around at the various views - this side, that side, this way, that way.

(Also there are some beautiful sunrises to notice…)

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We are each the centre of the U-ni-verse. Aren’t we? It is a little like we all have our own globe, a snow globe, in my case, surrounding us and defining the outer limits of what we can see, hear, feel, and “know.”

It feels even more this way in the hush and dark of the morning. It’s not early, but it feels early, without the daylight and the traffic and other people’s voices telling me they’re up. I am really starting to cherish these morning walks, even though I probably wouldn’t choose them, without the animals and their constant needs.

I try to “settle my snow globe” in the times I have to myself. I try to remember how I do exist on my own, without the transactions of meeting others’ needs, expectations, or simply requests for attention or connection. All perfectly wonderful ways to stay in communication, but not necessary (which is key) for my own worthiness or legitimacy as a full person.

As simplistic as that sounds, and as ridiculous as it can look, I have to believe I’m not the only one who struggles to feel fully present even when I don’t “fit in.”

I do fit in to the world around me, as do you to the world around you. More than that, you belong, and I belong, and there is space and softness and grace enough for all of us, together, separately, and in honest, respectful, but fully boundaried connection.

It’s kind of a lovely sensation, circling away, circling back, coming home, bringing home with me.

This is a little rambly sort of walk and talk, even for me. I’m thinking of so many things these days, chief among them how to organize my life this next year from a healthier and saner set of “principles,” or truths that I really believe, and which are helpful and relevant and relaxing.

I found it interesting that in doing a little “space” exercise with Tundra, she was affected enough that the entire walk from the barn back to the corral was a halt and look sort of experience. She seemed to be a little thrown by my talking with you, but perhaps also by processing my nonverbal requests for her to adjust herself to accommodate me in her stall. I’ve done this here and there before, but not with a phone, and not so slowly or deliberately. It was helpful for me to notice what confused her, what made sense, how long it took for her to figure out what I was - not cueing, but - suggesting…and how it felt for me in my body to let her make mistakes. It was nice, and a little strange. She seemed to catch that and communicated uncertainty all the way back to her “home.” I edited some of it out (because it was kind of unsettling) and kept some of it in (because it was kind of interesting) but in the end, it was what it was. And that’s the point.

Making mistakes, being a non-expert, learning through plenty of trial and error, and generally giving myself grace instead of pressure is probably the most central “resolution” I’m giving myself, as this year draws to a close and a new one opens up. And feeling in my body (if not quite emotionally - baby steps!) the difference between needing Tundra to “get it,” and simply allowing her and me to figure it out at a pace that suits us both, was very stark. I am used to a very tight bodily sensation of proactive control moves. I am going to work this year on relaxing that grip, and just…making space for both of us to learn, comfortably.

And on that very imperfect, amateur, friendly and not very expert note - Happy New Year! Enjoy the chance to start again, reset your rhythms, and, if nothing else, celebrate that your fight to live resulted in your being here. And now. You made it! That’s not nothing. It is actually quite something.

See you in 2026!

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I’m playing Il Divo’s 2005 Christmas album on my phone as I’m walking. I left it in as it sort of went with the whole experience…

May you have a very peace-filled, safe, and connected day. May you experience love in all its richness. May you keep your balance, keep your head, and let your heart flow its oxygen in, and out. May your soul feel at home.

With love,

from all of us over here.