Warning: This is a Vulnerable Post
It’s challenging balancing work and personal life. There are so many things I want to do. I know, I’m extremely curious and will never be satisfied sticking to one thing all the time. This time of year, especially, in the late spring, I start to feel like there just won’t be enough good weather time to fit in everything I want to do: keeping bees, sailing, gardening, walking the dogs, exercising, writing classes, seeing clients… not necessarily in that order, although the last two can be done in bad weather as well, so they don’t feel so urgent.
I take the summer off from teaching, mostly because I could never get a class to fill in the summer, but also because, just like all the potential students who didn’t sign up for a summer class, I would rather be outside this time of year.
This year is my first year to get serious about separating dahlias. I now have 33 dahlia plants, and they are all about 4-6” tall so far. I want to dig out more and more grass to plant other flowers and things that the bees can go wild on. But then there’s organizing the garage and shed, getting out to my sailboat as many days as possible, and just relaxing in the sun.
So I’m proud of myself for all I have been able to accomplish so far this season. Today I moved my boat trailer out to my parents’ property (my first time pulling a trailer without a man on hand, and second time ever—last time my dad was with me to coach me along), so I don’t have to have it in my back alley. My sister came with me, and we grabbed a few things out of the yard that we wanted for our own yards—an old garden gate I had put in 22 years ago when I built a garden out there for my son to watch the plants grow while he played in the dirt with me, and some other random yard art and tools we could put to use. Then I sat down when I got home and listed all of my classes for the 2025-2026 school year on my website so people can start signing up. That took several hours to get everything just right, and I have a feeling I will be getting questions from people about things I didn’t catch—little inconsistencies, or something I didn’t get programmed just right. Tech is my nemesis most of the time. I’m way better with my hands and heart than I am in front of a computer.
But I’m also proud of myself for how far I have come since last fall when my dad passed away. My sister and I are getting into a groove of good communication about taking care of our mother, which my sister bears the brunt of, but I try to help out as much as I can. It was so nice to spend the day with her out there, laughing about little idiosyncrasies our parents had, or memories we recollected while piddling around in the yard. My body doesn’t hurt or feel heavy with grief anymore. I’m able to meet most of the challenges of day to day life again, with confidence and a positive attitude. I have let the grief process, roll through, and I still allow it to come up whenever it needs to, giving myself the grace I need to be present in my body and with my friends, family and clients.
I took a break from teaching for a couple of months while I dealt with grief and the stagnancy that it produces, as well as the desire to raise the bar for my classes and move into more of a three-day class rhythm, from two day classes. I had to mull it over for a while to see what felt right about where to teach, what to teach, and how long to make the classes. I’m still working on a plan to offer a type of apprenticeship where we will hold student clinic days after a class, to be attended by students who have attended a couple of basic classes and then agree to complete a few of my core classes. I’m letting it simmer, but I should have it ready to write down and offer officially in the next few weeks.
I can hardly wait to see what it will look like once it’s fully created and then watch it develop as we have student clinic days. I can just imagine watching 2-3 students working on a client, perhaps a veteran or other person with a lot of injuries and traumas. To see how their body responds to several skilled workers communicating with each other and following where the body leads them will be a sight to see. I think it’s really going to be amazing, and a gift to our community here in Spokane.
So I close this post with gratitude for what lies ahead, and for the support I have received from above as well as from family, friends, students and clients, and some people who fall into more than one of those categories. I feel so blessed to be able to do this work, and have a life that is full of exploration of the human body as well as nature and beautiful relationships. Thank you, each and every one of you, for the words of encouragement, the praise, the thanks, and the support that you have all given me.
