beauty is as soft as a butterfly wing and as fierce as the truth.

beauty is in a single tear and in a burst of uncontrollable laughter.

beauty is as hard as a diamond and as supple as a blade of grass.

beauty is in a shy glance and in a powerful stride.

beauty is a prayer, a sigh, a whisper.

i was thinking about my grandparents’ farm in michigan and i remembered this photo.

clearly atlas has a long history of picking his own fruit.

maybe we could go to an apple orchard this fall and he could pick apples while i sit on a picnic bench and drink cider and eat cinnamon sugar doughnuts and supervise.

somewhat impulsively, i am off to michigan next week. i am so very excited because i get to spend time with my niece savannah! also other people. also lake superior. but also savannah! almost a whole year has gone by since i saw her. i miss her.

i feel like a kid on christmas morning.

{a photo project honoring radiance, one of my words for 2012 :: 52 photos that represent radiance, 52 photos that represent luminosity.}

i am starting to think that power and radiance might be a two year journey.

the other day, i looked in the mirror three or four times before i left the house. i felt pretty and it was such a novel feeling that i kept going back to it.

every once in a while, i will be in the midst of writing out postcards and cards for friends and it will occur to me that i am a good friend and i don’t know why i always think that i’m not.

the day before i left for spain, i organized my day in order to buy fresh bagels from panera and spent time trying to figure out how to pack everything so there would be room for them. i had asked my sister if she wanted me to bring her anything. later, it occurred to me to ask if her roommates wanted me to bring them anything as well; one of them wanted bagels. while i was driving around, i was wondering why i always think that i’m not a nice person, when buying bagels didn’t seem like something that a not-nice person would do.

many of the people i love are wonderful writers. every time i read a piece of their writing, whether it be a blog post or an email, i wish i could write like them. a while ago, i read through a bunch of my favorite posts because i was looking for one that i could repurpose for a project. as i was reading, i realized that i can write. what i mean by that is – when i really want to talk about something, i can usually find a way to express my thoughts and feelings in a way that feels good to me.

shortly after having one of these thoughts, another thought pops into my mind, which is, “wow, i am vain and egotistical and think highly of myself.”

i have decided that the reason positive thoughts feel so uncomfortable and wrong is because i am not used to them. after all, they are a new development. after all, i have years of believing the opposite. after all, i have years of being taught that it is bad to say nice things about yourself.

i think i want to practice more.

i think i also want to take the resulting “but this is wrong and bad and i am wrong and bad” less seriously. i am guessing it feels a lot worse in my head than it actually is. (sort of like how, if you’ve spent your life trying to please other people, giving your opinion on something small, like whether or not you liked a certain movie, feels really big and possibly relationship-ending.)

truth be told, i have a feeling that we could all probably stand to give ourselves a lot more credit than we do.

i know conventional wisdom says that prices generally go up, not down.

apparently i am living in the land of opposites because instead, i just had a flash of inspiration to lower my price for the pause – a way to rest and recharge and renew.

i am not entirely sure why i feel so inspired; mostly it just feels like a lovely thing to do. so, as of today, the price is $62.

if you (or someone you know) are looking for a way to retreat from the chaos of daily life for a while, all in the comfort of your own home, maybe a pause would be right for you.

(if you haven’t noticed, i am fond of numbers that add up to 8. i like the number 8. it reminds me of infinity and the interplay between giving and receiving.)

these photos make me smile.

especially the first photo. (his head looks like it’s scrunched.) and the third photo. (dumbo!)

and definitely the last photo. doesn’t it look like atlas is about to eat the ant-people on the beach? (it’s dogzilla!)

“Admit something: Everyone you see, you say to them, “Love me.”

Of course you do not do this out loud, otherwise someone would call the cops.

Still, though, think about this, this great pull in us to connect. Why not become the one who lives with a full moon in each eye that is always saying, with that sweet moon language, What every other eye in this world is dying to hear.”

– Hafiz, With That Moon Language

i sat in the cool living room last night and shared a bag of popcorn with atlas. ten pieces for me; a piece for him. twelve pieces for me; two pieces for him. five pieces for me; a piece for him. twenty pieces for me; two pieces for him. (i think atlas would have preferred if the quantities were reversed.)

sharing popcorn leaves much time for thought.

“We like to pretend that our generous impulses come naturally. But the reality is we often become our kindest, most ethical selves only by seeing what it feels like to be a selfish jackass first. It’s the reason .. our most meaningful relationships are so often those that continued beyond the very juncture at which they came the closest to ending.”

– from Tiny Beautiful Things by Cheryl Strayed

the thing that i find myself thinking a lot lately – and it came to me again while nibbling popcorn – is that atlas has seen the very best of me. i have been the best version of myself with him. i have been sweet and loving and kind and patient and gentle to a degree that i wouldn’t have believed possible.

atlas has also seen the very worst of me. i have been the worst version of myself with him. i do not like to remember those moments, though as i grow older and wiser and kinder, it is easier to forgive myself for them. it seems very true that in every moment, we really are doing the best we can.

there have also been many many moments in between those two extremes.

for his part, i think it’s safe to say that atlas has been all versions of himself. (i would say that he’s been good and bad and everything in between, except i don’t really think dogs are good or bad; they just are.)

from the second i looked into atlas’ big eyes through the screen door, i wouldn’t have traded him for anything. after all these years of loving and learning together, that love feels like a teaspoon in the ocean of today’s love.

no matter what happens or doesn’t happen in the future, atlas is indeed one of the great loves of my life. the best and truest prayer i can offer on his behalf is “thank you, thank you, thank you.”

“Dario understands when I say that Buttermilk is the great love of my life. I know Buttermilk better than I have known any human, and he surely knows me better than anyone.”

– from All That is Bitter & Sweet by Ashley Judd

i don’t really have a point, except to say that when i look at atlas, it is easy to see that love is messy and beautiful.

i had an idea!

if you are the parent or close relative of a child who will be in the hospital for a while, and you want them to receive more mail while they’re there, i invite you to send me their information and address. i would be happy to send them a little note and one of my stories.

i was in the hospital for a long time when i was little, so i know what it’s like, and i am very good at sending random mail. if my experience means i now have the opportunity to make another child’s hospital stay just a little bit brighter, then i will count it a blessing.

consider this an open invitation.

please feel free to share it with anyone you think would benefit.

(that being said, may you never need it.)

p.s. just for fun, i used the healing brush on this photo, to clean up some of the lens flare on the left. it seemed so appropriate!