January/February Journal (2026)

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January happened
like a bitch who brought,
not just snow
and not even sleet,
but ICE! Dreaded ice.

And two days before 
I'm at the kitchen sink window,
and see our beloved barn,
the life-saving grace for our horses
in such weather and it hit me - two to
four inches of ice. Will the roof hold?

Two inches? Maybe. Four inches? It will fail. 

And adrenaline rushed like the breach
of a dam as repairs were made with
extra supports and de-icing researched:
What wasn't toxic to horses?

For days it went like this - things to consider
outside my experience, things that were my
job to consider.

And it should be no surprise that
once the storm passed, my system kept
scanning for how we weren't safe and
what I could do about it. 

Weeks later I settled, but not without
cost: I was tired. No, more than tired. 
And I recognized and tried to deny it
at the same time - the familiar symptoms
of an adrenal crash - muscle weakness,
dizziness on standing, heart palpitations,
and wanting to lie down and cry,
or die,
whichever came first:
I didn't care.

Too dramatic you say?

Well juice is juice and when you don't have it
everything in you says, "What's the point?"

But like most maladies, this one has a gift,
and the writing that follows is mine to you.
It might not be "good," but it's genuine,
and on the off chance it's helpful,
here it is: my

January/February Adrenal Fatigue Journal


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I'm a truck revved up with the parking brakes on
and I can't stop the revving and I can't stop the
braking.

Analysis is fruitless and only makes it worse,
and worry is what caused it in the first place.

I love how I judge it and laugh at its
absurdity - not the revving or the braking -
but the belief that it should be, that I should be
different.

What made me think I should or could rise above
physiology? Did I really think that if I became healed
enough or enlightened enough I would somehow 
transcend human chemistry?

What rubbish! And shame on any so-called healer
or spiritual teacher who makes you feel that way.

I mean, I understand. I've done it too - sometimes 
to others, but mostly to myself.

This being human is a ride. Sometimes it's a
tugboat, sometimes a jet, and sometimes
a chemically-induced tilt-a-whirl. 

But chemistry is part of the fun. For how
else would you know you are more than
that? How else would you know that you are
the one who rides above and below and
between it all - 

the One who breathes with a smile
while being revved up, 
with the brakes on?


~~~~~~~~~~~~


I hate this tiredness and what it won't
let me do.

It won't let me push like I've always done -
engage my will and call on some backup chemical
resources and ancestrally-programmed determination
to mind-over-matter my way through life.

And I want to say, Fuck it! Go ahead and kill
me. I'm tired of fighting a battle I'll never win -
trying to control what happens to me and to
those I love.

But chemical patterns and genetic tendencies
die hard, and can only be breathed through -
​
one episode at a time.


~~~~~~~~~~~~


Resist nothing.

Allow the pinch in your chest
and your brace against it.

Allow your concern about it 
and trying not to be 
concerned.

Allow the fear and being afraid
of the fear.

Allow the trying to figure it out and
trying to stop that too.

Allow the worry and your judgment
about the worry.

Welcome it all and see 
what happens.

It's like falling,
falling,

a white dissolving fall
into nothing.

But who is falling?
No one.

But falling is definitely happening,
as a soft, loving lightness
that says Yes
to it all.


~~~~~~~~~~~~


There is a place in you,
there is a place in me,
that says Yes.

And I can't tell you where it is or
how to find it, but it's here,
in you, in me, in each of us
always.

Your mind can't find it,
so don't even try. It will
contrive and effort, but this
Yes is free of effort.

It emerges softly
after you've said No
a thousand times,
consciously, as a fully
embodied, fit-pitching,
tantrum-y child.

She is brilliant, this child.
Let her move and scream
while you listen.

If you don't she'll be running 
things anyway, behind the scenes,
and your fear and rejection of her
will only make you stiff and tired while
you brace and pretend she's not there.

No one needs to hear her except you.
So close the door, turn down the lights,
and stomp your No feet, pound your No
fists, until you feel the pain of "It shouldn't
be this way" or "I hate this" move through
your body in a terrifying, tantrum-y dance.

And then you'll be free.
Because only when you've faced
and exhausted the No,
can you feel the holy Yes.


~~~~~~~~~~~~


NEW PROJECTIONS ONTO THE MOURNING DOVE

I used to hear her plaintive song and believe
what they said: she is sad, melancholy.

But today I heard, for the first time ever,
her quiet joy.

She's not sad, she is soft.
And her full, gray breast expands from
her feet, not perched, but anchored on
the old barked branch,

her heavy, unhurried body not twittering like
the others who fuss and flutter.

She is weighted in the now and
its inherent sweetness.


~~~~~~~~~~~~

​
I woke during the night and
walked my drunken walk to
the bathroom once again, and
once again I imagined myself
as a decrepit old woman, alone
in my house, and falling, and no
one knows how long I lie there,
with no one to feed my horses,
and every body dies 
a slow and painful death.

Crazy.

And I hear the funny grunt that
Accuweather makes and my heart
skips a beat and I see the tornado
or wildfire flames racing toward my
house and my horses and I'm scrambling
in a panic - frantically helpless.

Crazy.

I'm exaggerating a little - the scenes
aren't that specific and there's no
narration, but the feeling is the same.

These are my favorite scary movies.
What are yours?  

And maybe your mind, like
mine, gets defensive and says,
"Well these things could actually happen.
They do you know. And what makes you think
you are special and would be spared
of such a fate?"

And so it goes,

while in this moment there is nothing
but the peace of your breath
and the collapse of your
self
when you turn your attention
fully 
to the now.


~~~~~~~~~~~~


All day long I watched
the approach of moving light across
the wide tan ground of the neighbor's pasture,
and how fast it chased the shadows of clouds
like ocean waves
over and over again
crashing toward my tiny house.
​
And I stand amazed at how solid
I seem 
with all that wind and all that
crashing.

And I wonder, Am I the ground
or am I the space above the
clouds - the Light that never changes?

I am both it seems.
And the wind and the waves,
and the shadows and the crashing
are just what happens
when the Light and earth
come together.


~~~~~~~~~~~~