The whole process is rewarding-ly therapeautic.

Tonight was one of those nights. After an incredibly long day, I arrived home so ready to go to sleep, but I could not help but begin to scrub away! And how satisfying is the feeling of a clean toilet, clean shower and clean sink! Not satisfying ,though, was the awful bloody booboo I got from setting up the vacuum cleaner. I’ve got quite the photo of it, but it looks way worse than it actually is because I was letting it bleed. So I’m just going to keep that one to myself.  What I will share though, is what all the dance rehearsals have been doing to my poor knees!! Eeep!

This is all going to pay off because TRYBE’s huge annual gala coming up in just two weeks! So much of my life has been dedicated to all things Trybe since I arrived. This is me not complaining.

Despite the long days spent in dance rehearsal [all my nights and weekends are spent in practice], I am also having a wonderful time in my classes this semester, the few that I have. The semester looks incredibly promising! I’ll be sure to write more about them soon, but I will say for now that my life in the classroom these days is full of art and poetry. I couldn’t ask for anything lovelier.

I’ve started up my painting work and have been re-setting up my little studio space that I had last semester. Here’s my most recent work, a life-sized painting I’ve just started working on. Hours and hours and hours more to go, but I am so excited!

What 7 a.m. looks like. View from my pillow. Poor image quality by my phone.

Trying to keep up with the short but pretty regular running excursions that I’ve been doing, I had decided that a nice morning run would be good to jump start my first day back. Dance doesn’t start until tomorrow and all the sleeping in cramped airplane seats had definitely tightened up my muscles. (I had been so glad to finally be horizontal on my familiar bed at Wheaton last night!)

I put in lots of time to layer up – I had a couple of sweatshirts on and legwarmers underneath my sweatpants. I even put a hat on! I was ready to go! A morning run, what a great idea!

I stepped out of Keefe and groaned. It was snowinggg. It didn’t seem like all that much, so I decided to go on anyway, not planning to be out for too long. I started to jog, sticking to the road’s shoulder, rather than the sidewalks steadily slicking up with snow. Four minutes in and I was realizing how cold it was. The layers were almost useless. I had broken a sweat already, but the winter air and the snow flying into my face was telling me to go back inside. Where was all the real air!?!? And who is sucking it all in?! I suddenly missed the Philippine heat (I almost never miss the heat!) because the cold left my breath short and my chest tight. I turned around, not so reluctantly, mad that the snow was already ruining my plans.

Since then, I’ve had a very productive day! (And I also have refused to leave the building because of the snow, although I may soon have to because of my hungerrr.) Last night when I started to unpack, I looked around my room and realized that I’d have to clean up and organize before I could get empty out my suitcases. It wasn’t a complete mess, but I had left in a quite a rush last December and put no time into tidying up. It was almost a complete mess. So this morning, after a cold trek to breakfast and back, I went full force on my little room! This is probably the cleanest and tidiest it is going to be all semester. Well, hopefully not, I guess. I re-folded and re-sorted all my clothes and shoes, cleaned out my desk drawers, sorted out piles of papers into recycling, hung up all my accessories, vacuumed my carpet (that thing is never going to be glitter-free), did some laundry, and put on some fresh sheets on my bed. (Photographs soon. Maybe.) Believe me, it was quite the operation.

Now I sit at my desk, warm in a nice vintage find, from my sister’s closet and straight from the 80′s. (I am loving the patterns!)

On my flight out of Manila, I was served little mango cubes with my meal. This serving topped off my week-long strategic mango consumption effort. In the last week I was home, I tried to squeeze in as much good company and good mangoes as I could – always the juicy, ripe, filipino mango that never fails. I had it with my pancakes, in my crepes, in my yogurt, in my frozen yogurt, in my mango bravo (a yummy frozen kind of cake!), in my juice… It seemed just right to have it as dessert on my flight. I brought enough stock of dried mangoes and mangorinds to keep me alive on this end! Nothing compared to the real thing though. On the flight, I reflected on my last holiday break that was drawing to a close. In just a few days, I begin my final semester of undergraduate study at Wheaton College…buuut more on that later!

As we landed in Narita, the first thing I thought was, Oh, Winter. The trees that lined the fence of the airport were blackened, damp in the rain, and stripped by the season. I had forgotten that Winter looked like this. Here I am, back in its short days and its blackened, white nights. This morning, on my stiff walk back from my failed run, I thought, I forgot Winter felt like this.

For now, it is dark again outside and I can hear  Sarah in the shower, newly returned to me after a stressful, eventful journey back. She takes the prize for this set of flights – almost deported and hours and hours late! Ha!

The flight attendant on the speaker welcomed us to Chicago and told us it was 2:30 pm. While waiting for the passengers in front of me to file out of the plane, I did some calculations. If I could get through the immigration in twenty minutes, claim baggage/get through customs/re-check baggage in another twenty; the final twenty of the minutes of the hour could be split between getting out of the plane and getting myself rechecked into the airport terminal. And if I still needed more time, I hoped the boarding time would serve as a little buffer.  I power walked with my bulky backpack and large shoulder bag from the plane to the immigration line, leaving behind many excessively calm travelers in no hurry. It was no use trying the moving walkways because they were full of slow pokes that had a lot of time on their hands. I, on the other hand, was trying to speed through. I’ve never had to trek so far to the immigration area! When I finally made it there, my throat dry from shallow breathing in the cold, I was glad I had decided not to throw out that half a bottle of water that I had in my bag, and thankful for the special section they had for visitors with connecting flights! Ordinarily, I could spend at least half an hour just waiting in line! I had a couple people pass me by in line, thanks to this new and annoying system of student having to fill in extra information onto our I-90 cards. Of course my hands were shaking as I hurriedly filled it out. I soon made it through.

At the baggage claim area, I tapped my foot impatiently, as I looked hard for my bags. Where were they?? No matter how fast you get through immigration, if your bags aren’t out yet, you’re still stuck. I tried to coax them out faster onto the conveyor belt and hoped that they would arrive soon. I’d rather they arrive late then be lost somewhere, because processing that takes even more time and after having seen a whole plane-full of luggage go by! A couple more waves of bags arrived, then I finally saw the familiar dark bags with bright pink ribbons and quickly hauled them over to customs. Once through the inspector, all my bags got put through a scanner before I exited into a large hectic room. There, I was approached by one of the airport employees with a huge barcode scanner. He was scanning luggage and letting passengers know what gate and terminal they had to proceed to. He scanned mine, then said something that I ended up having to repeat in my own head, just to sort out his accent – Your gate is C9, Terminal 1. Still distracted by my own busy head (translating the accent, estimating the time and trying to cheer myself forward), I followed the rest of the travelers handing off their bags to the muscle men putting them on more conveyer belts. I tried to stay encouraged by reasoning that if my flight had left already, he would’ve known and would’ve told me. My baggage wouldn’t have anywhere to go! But then again, you never know. For once I was hoping the flight would be delayed!

I let myself look at the blue screens full of flight information. On Time, it told me brightly, next to my flight number to Boston. At least it didn’t say, Now Boarding! So I kept moving. I found myself a little disoriented when I stepped out onto a new lobby, with people walking in all directions, but I soon found the escalators leading to the inter-terminal train stop. The train arrived a couple minutes after I walked onto the platform and two stops later, I arrived at Terminal 1. More walking, more hustling! I then had to go through, guess whaaat, more security checks! I was basically getting re-checked into the airport. I stood still with my hands above my head and elbows bent, in between those airport scanners that show the officers everything. Afterwards, I walked over to the female officer on duty, waiting to get the clear from the officer on the other side of her earpiece. As I tried to wait patiently, I thought to myself, I’msocloseI’msoclose! Aaaand of course, just to keep me on my toes, I got an extra check. The officer had to pat down my back pockets and the front of my shirt. She had me show her the old necklace I had tucked into my shirt, one I got from Kuya Law over a decade ago. Then she took one of those small pieces of paper, wiped the palm of my hand with it a couple of times and put it into a machine to get it checked. They usually do this to my bags, not me! Oh well. Something new every time. Once I was cleared, another officer asked to look into my handbag. Ah, powder! he said, looking at the bottle, then letting me go on my way.

A nearby screen told me that my plane had arrived late. I hoped I wasn’t reading wrong!

You would think that by now, I would maybe, possibly, potentially, perhaps be very close to my boarding gate. Ah, no! Such is life! There is lots of walking, lots of hustling to be done! From Concourse B, I had to make my way to Concourse C. Between these two was a nice looong walkway; long but happily and colorfully lit by neon tubes overhead and glowing walls. Maybe I was imagining them? Anyway, I was glad for the encouraging lights and the many moving walkways that this time that were not full of slow and annoying walkers. I walked up the escalators too, squeezing by some very pleasant people. Walk, walk, walk.

Found some proof online. I wasn’t hallucinating!:

C  17, C 15, C 13….Then, finally, my gate was in sight! AAAHH!!! How thankful I was to see a large crowd of people still gathered around it! Boarding hadn’t even started. I did not reward myself with a seat just yet, but proceeded to the nearby restroom in relief. I wasn’t going to miss my flight! It wasn’t until I joined the rest of the crowd that I allowed myself to ask a nice lady for the time. It was five minutes to four! Whew! That was way too close. Thank God for the delay!

We boarded shortly and I finally let myself have a seat. While we waited for everyone to get on the plane, I watched the snow gather on my window. Even after our plane had closed its cabin doors, we ended up waiting. We waited a long time. The plane had to be sprayed with some chemicals to keep the snow off, ice had to be melted as we pulled out of our gate and onto the runway, and who know what else – I was dozing off already!

The quick and rough sketch I did as I watched the window. The snow kept coming as our plane stood still. Poised on the glass, you could make out the beautiful intricate designs of a few individual snowflakes! This muddy sketch does it absolutely no justice.

How beautiful it was to read Ralph Waldo Emerson on that calm Monday morning, and to digest his thoughts on nature and beauty in the presence of a vast space that is, quite appropriately, an example of both. I propped up my feet, wrapped in happy striped socks, and proceeded to read. I’d set the book down every now and then, and was thankful for the opportunity to let my eyes wander – from near objects to far spaces. I suddenly thought of something I read years ago in Toni Morrison’s, “Beloved.” I can’t remember the words exactly, but I never forgot it’s impression. She was describing a man’s eyes, and how he had the gaze of someone accustomed to looking at things from a distance, someone used to being outdoors. When you work in the field all day, your attention stretched across meters or miles, how different it must be to then focus on something near – like a book on your lap, or a friend sitting across the table from you.

Loosely wrapped in all that space of the fish pond, my usual day’s activities felt so cramped in comparison. How much of my day is spent looking at things literally right in front of my face? How much time is invested in my laptop, my television, my cellphone? You reach out to touch these screens and your fingertips meet no depth.

How much of my days are spent looking into the distance, leveling my world out with the horizon? You stretch out your arm to touch the space and find how short your own reach is, and how much of the world there is yet for your soul to grasp. Thank God for eyes with which to take in the beautiful sights of this world.

Emerson reminds us, “We are never tired so long as we can see far enough.”

Here are some photos from our quick trip to see our fish at Ilog!

Tuesday's sunrise.

That was probably the first time I ever went ahead of my age. I’m twenty-two. Usually something inside tells me I’m seventeen and I have to take a second to think when people ask me how old I am. I literally have to take a moment to get my facts straight!

Is this what happens as you get older? When you’re a child and growing up, your age matters so much. A large part of your identity, you never forget how old you are or how old you are turning on your next birthday. Older people ask it too often for you to get it wrong!

Meet little T. I assure you, I was not as much trouble as I looked!

When I was eight years old, I remember wanting to be eight forever. Not only was that my favorite number, there seemed to be so many great and wonderful things about being eight years old, none of which I can seem to recall today. I remember when I turned ten, and what a huge deal it was – I was graduating to double digits! Then I remember turning thirteen and finally being a teenager. Every teenage year that followed seemed to come with its own set of expectations, its own set of stereotyping, but also a longer list of things you’re allowed to do and decisions you are given the chance to make on your own. At first it’s a later curfew, next thing you know, your parents are letting you go to school on the other side of the planet. Literally!

Every year counted while growing up. Being seven was light years away from being nine. When you were fourteen you looked at eleven year olds and thought, Oh how young they are! When you were sixteen, you were too cool to hang out with the kids in grade school. Every year brought you closer to being more “mature,” and supposedly being taken more seriously. (Then you meet those older people who help you realize that sometimes age has little to do with maturity and being “grown up”.)

When you’re an adult, How old are you? never seems to be the first question anymore and the answer doesn’t seem to hold as much weight as it did in the playground. Surely it becomes less of a welcomed inquiry as the years go by. Ever meet adults who brag about how old they’ve become? Ha!

Age is just a number after all. More important things shape your identity!

But yes, T, it’s twenty-two for now, not twenty-three.

For 2012, I decided to open up the year with 12 words. In the next twelve months, these twelve words will be my inspiration. On pretty little blocks of layered paper, I wrote them down (looking forward to incorporating them into the handmade planner I’ve working on!). I’ve called them magic words, but really they’re a lot of work. They require action, real effort – and more than just a wave of a wand or a sprinkle of fairy dust. Yet they are magical because I am hoping they will usher in some pretty breathtaking little breakthroughs this year.

Here they are, in no particular order; all related, but most certainly distinct.

Hope. Kindness. Peace. Thankfulness. Self-Control. Love.

Selflessness. Goodness. Forgiveness. Diligence. Patience. Joy.

In a little bag, I mixed in all the pretty papers with my 12 words on them. One by one I took them out again, taking note the order in which they came out by writing a tiny number in the corner on the back of each one. Each number corresponded to a month of the year. To give myself some kind of structure to this unfolding process/personal experiment, every month is to have it’s very own word. You could even call it a theme of the month, or perhaps the quality of the month. The task is to reflect on each of these attributes, carefully throughout the course of the month, and to find tangible ways to make them living truths in my life. Throughout the course of the year I will also dwell on these words collectively, hopefully doing my utmost to live by their “magic.”  I’m quite certain that by the end of the year I will have learned 12 profound lessons, each inspired by the words I’ve chosen. Heck, I’d be a winner if  I end up with just one lesson by the end of the year, profound or not.

This is exciting, albeit substantially unnerving, this little soul adventure I’ve set up for myself. I made sure that the relationship between word and month was completely random on my end, but I cannot help but already anticipate the ways God is orchestrating all of this in order to teach me very specific lessons. Ah, how the Creator has His ways! All I can do now is step out with with an open mind, an open heart, and pay attention.

On another note, here’s a sneak peek at the planner I’m working on. I did all the sewing last night and I’m now working on the inside. It’s a lot of work – I’ve barely made it into decorating the first week of February!

I have this on my bedroom wall at school - a poster by Mark Weaver, based on a Fleet Foxes song.

Here’s one last look at 2011: I’ve come up with a playlist.

I tried my best to look back as far as I could into the year that just passed, to pull out the music that walked through the year with me. Thanks to Pandora, YouTube, and more recently, Spotify, most of the music that I obsessed over can’t even be found on my computer.

So this is made mostly from memory. I get obsessed with an artist or a specific song, and for a couple days, it becomes somewhat of a theme song, and the artist becomes a friend. For at least a short period of time, it will be the song that soothes me most (thus the overplaying). The music eventually tags itself to a certain memory, a specific place, or a distinct season in my life. Each of these songs walked me through some period of 2011, and each artist at one point was a steady voice in my head. (How hard it was to give some artists only one song!)

I almost made a second mix to share, one with more mainstream music – songs that were played at parties, the music we danced to and heard everywhere we went. But it felt so impersonal, you know? All you’d have to do is look up a year-end Billboard chart, and there it all is.

Ten, twenty, or even thirty years from now, if I want to remember what 2011 felt like, all I have to do is play this music. Enjoy!

Listen to the playlist here.

T’s “Fare the well, 2011″ Playlist

(Music roughly in order of appearance.)

• M83: We Own the Sky
• Discovery: Can You Discover?
• Bell X1: Velcro
• Robyn: Dream On
• The Cold War Kids: Audience
• The Temper Trap: Sweet Disposition
• Timothy Bloom and V.Bozeman: Until the End of Time
• The Penguin Cafe Orchestra: Perpetuum Mobile
• Balmorhea: The Winter
• Stateless: Bloodstream
• Clint Mansell & Peter Broderick: Not At Home
• Devendra Banhart: Brindo
• James Vincent McMorrow: Early In the Morning
• AWOLNATION: Sail
• Bon Iver: Holocene
• The XX: Intro
• Sigur Ros: The Fountain
• Poison & Wine: The Civil Wars
• Coldplay: Up In Flames
  
• Fleet Foxes: A Shrine/An Argument

I didn’t run for very long, but switched between a steady jog, a quick sprint and a brisk walk of recovery. It was the middle of an overcast afternoon, but the heat and all the effort my out-of-shape body could muster soon tired me. I walked home exhausted, a little breathless, but so happy to be moving! I end this year, 2011, in much the same way. I’ve walked (or more literally, flown) home exhausted, a little breathless, but so glad with the year’s adventures!

Here’s a quick recap of the year that was my 2011. Granted it’s not a complete rundown (and who would want to read about all of that?!), but it definitely highlights some memorable moments.

I turned 22. Welcomed a new sister into the Aritao family. Became a senior in college. I danced – with the Wheaton College Dance Company, with TRYBE. I choreographed – some contemporary, some hip hop, and even random dances for Wheaton’s all-male acapella group, the Gentlemen Callers. I taught classes for the Wheaton Dance Collective. I performed – three of the best dance shows at Wheaton in recent years (according to great feedback!) Behind the Wall, So You Think You Can Trybe, and Cell 45, which just took place a couple weeks ago. I wrote. I wrote for my college and I began writing spoken word. I even performed one of my pieces for a relief fundraiser for Japan.

I went to see some great art exhibits, ones I will probably remember for the rest of my life – the beautiful glass sculptures of Dale Chihuly, the haunting but beautiful visions of Alexander McQueen, and a lovely collection art by one of the artists that has made an incredible impression in my own art, Edgar Degas. I also got to see some of my professor’s recent art (beautiful silk organza collographs!!) at the Newport Art Museum. I revisited New York. Fell in love with Washington D.C. Took my first dance classes in the US outside of my college campus – in Boston and New York – got inspired by all the beautiful, older women who I took class with. They could kick my butt out of those studios! I saw one of my favorite bands, the Cold War Kids. I saw a ballet in the US for the first time – one of my dance teachers perform as the Sugar Plum Fairy in Festival Ballet’s The Nutcracker!

I fell in love with figure drawing. I began to paint, and loved it. I began to do printmaking and hated it. Then loved it, but not after much resistance. I spent the year doing independent work on in the art studio at school, and even got my own spot out on the painting deck to explore my drawing-paintings of dancers. I took a year off of shoe shopping. It was a year of pride parades, flash mobs, a lot of art-seeing and art-making, of writing, of performing, of getting evacuated in a hurricane right at the beginning of senior year. It was a year of tea time – I used to hate tea (until tea quickly and effectively made me feel better when I was sick in the spring!) It was another year of loving and leading ice breakers and energizers. It was a year of falling in love with children – the children I work with in the Philippines, and the adorable ones I just started seeing at a nursery nearby the college. Buhay Makulay had it’s fifth annual children’s fair at the San Lazaro Hospital, and it’s second annual one at a local children’s shelter. It was the year a dear friend passed away.

It was a year of moving. In the spring, moved back into the familiar Davis House. Over the summer, bounced around -D.C., New York, Massachusetts, Hong Kong and the Philippines. In the fall, moved in with two beautiful ladies, and soon realized I wouldn’t survive senior year without their sweet and undying support.

It was a year I learned about friendships. About making mistakes. About being a good leader and what it takes grow into a great one. I learned about being there for the people you love and care about. I learned about decisions. I learned more about hope, more about faith.

Well that’s a lot about me, so perhaps now take a look at what happened in the world. The New York Times’ has a collection of the year in photos here. Or, if you’d like, look at the year’s best twelve fashion trends here.

Here’s another good note to end the year on. I was flipping through my planner and found something I kept to myself and failed to pass on. Today I pass it on to you, and it’s true.

Goodbye, 2011! You sure were beautiful too.

(My older brother was quite amused with the "interesting clothes" I had on. He asked if he could take a full body shot. I went all out and turned it into my holiday greeting card! Merry Christmas!

It sure is a blessing to be home for Christmas! I arrived seven days ago and it took a while to get here (54 hours in total – thanks to a delayed flight and the hectic holiday air traffic), but I am here and happy. And so is my sister! (Although she flies out again later today )

On my mind on this meaningful day are those who cannot be home for Christmas, and those who have lost their homes.

As I walked to my boarding gate, for the final leg of my trip home after hours and hours and hours in the Hong Kong airport, I passed by a TV screen and stopped at the video footage they were sharing. It was news about the storm that was devastating the southern part of the Philippines. This afternoon, the newspapers said that the death toll could reach 3,000! If you haven’t heard about the typhoon that hit my country, here’s a little clip:

Despite the heartbreak, light always finds its way in.

In six evacuation centers crammed with 20,000 people in Cagayan de Oro, a mix of desperation and a subdued Christmas spirit was in the air on Friday.

For single-mother Nova Lopena, there was so much to thank for. “We lost our house, our little shelter, but he is the greatest gift for this year,” the 17-year-old said of her 2-week-old baby Hadji Rey.

At West City Central School, Josefa Mandula, 66, was waiting for her son to arrive with food packs from the relief line. Mandula’s house was swept away by the rampaging flood, but nothing could stop her from celebrating with her family intact in the evacuation center.

“We can prepare sardines, pancit or misua so that we can have something to eat,” Mandula said.

Said Imelda Lantawan, whose family was sharing a room in the school with 25 other families: “It would be a great Christmas after all, with new friends we can share experiences with.”

In one corner, Cesar Legazpi said that despite the tragedy, there was reason to be thankful for the second chance in life.

“While others perished, we need to go on and smile and honor their memories. We must be thankful for the chance we are given because many did not have that chance,” Legazpi said.

Flora Abellanosa, 65, said celebrating Christmas at the evacuation center would give survivors a chance to “reflect on their lives, their blessings and losses, and the chances we are given and the changes we are going to make.”

Read more about how the survivors in Iligan and Cagayan De Oro still feel the Christmas spirit here or here. My heart goes out to the thousands celebrating Christmas in shelters and evacuation centers today.

On a happier note, there are those who like myself, have been given the gift of homecoming this Christmas. See these emotional and beautiful moments for some filipinos who haven’t been home for years and years and years.

Unshakeable peace, deep joy and overwhelming love;

my wishes for you this Christmas.

Merry Christmas!

⁸ And there were shepherds living out in the fields nearby, keeping watch over their flocks at night. ⁹ An angel of the Lord appeared to them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified. ¹⁰ But the angel said to them, “Do not be afraid. I bring you good news that will cause great joy for all the people. ¹¹ Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you; he is the Messiah, the Lord. ¹²This will be a sign to you: You will find a baby wrapped in cloths and lying in a manger.”

 ¹³ Suddenly a great company of the heavenly host appeared with the angel, praising God and saying,

 ¹⁴ “Glory to God in the highest heaven,
   and on earth peace to those on whom his favor rests.”

 ¹⁵ When the angels had left them and gone into heaven, the shepherds said to one another, “Let’s go to Bethlehem and see this thing that has happened, which the Lord has told us about.”

 ¹⁶ So they hurried off and found Mary and Joseph, and the baby, who was lying in the manger. ¹⁷ When they had seen him, they spread the word concerning what had been told them about this child, ¹⁸ and all who heard it were amazed at what the shepherds said to them. ¹⁹ But Mary treasured up all these things and pondered them in her heart. ²⁰ The shepherds returned, glorifying and praising God for all the things they had heard and seen, which were just as they had been told.

(Photos by Erin’s mom, Terry, taken on our walk before tea!)

I had a couple firsts: took a peek into the Native American’s National Day of Morning, enjoyed a full-on Thanksgiving gathering with extended family, watched the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade on television and went out for my first Tea Date with the ladies. I had a lot of time to catch up on things like sleep, sharing photos, Erin-time (it is incredibly upsetting, how little we have seen of each other this semester) and getting my fill of good ridiculously fantastic food. We also went to see the Muppet Movie yesterday (another first!) and I fell in love with Kermit all over again! When we returned home, the family had their own more intimate round of Thanksgiving dinner, and it was so worth having. Erin and her mom made a glorious assortment of dishes, making sure all of their favorites were in the mix. The meal was topped off by the amazing pies they baked – pecan pie with kahlua and pumpkin cheesecake – and the warmth of grateful spirits.

(Terry’s photo of me at Thanksgiving and my photo of her at tea.)

The day after Thanksgiving, I went out alone for a walk on the beach just down the road. It was a beautiful day, warm and sunny, more like spring than the end of November in New England. With my sketchbook/journal in tow, I found a little rock and took my time to just sit. A black and orange butterfly did the same on a little rock nearby. I let my mind wander as I looked out onto the ocean. I prayed, wrote a little and drew a lot, with the sun, sweet on my face. And I felt grateful.

(My noon view of what I believe is Sagamore beach.)

There are so many things to be thankful for. How lovely to have the time of Thankgiving, which inspires us to give thanks. Tonight I am most grateful for gifts of family and friendship. I am thankful for the Koles who folded me into their loving family this week. I am thankful for the girls I live with, Sarah and Yuri – how I looked forward to returning home to you ladies and our Cuddle Castle! And I am thankful for my family, miles and miles away at present, whose love and support never cease to amaze and humble my soul.

Today, I ended the break just as I began it- working in my art studio and catching up with friends. Hoping my joy (and my energy!) runs over and over through these next couple of weeks, catapulting me back into the tropical embrace of home.