I’ve never gone in for the whole peace, love and understanding scene. 

I’ve attempted yoga a few times in my life. No offense to my yogi friends out there, but it’s just not for me. In particular, I can’t handle the whole breathing, humming and chanting stuff – it makes me want to giggle uncontrollably.

Similarly, I’ve never been inclined to make the time or space to calm my mind through meditation. I know, I know, that’s precisely the point of meditation. Alas, it holds no appeal for me. Just thinking about it makes me itchy, which is probably a good indication that I would benefit from doing it. Still…not going to happen anytime soon.

Along those same lines, every time I’ve heard about “practicing gratitude” or keeping a gratitude journal I’ve responded with an internal eye roll. Maybe it’s because, as I’ve reluctantly discussed before, I lead a pretty charmed and happy life. As such, a practice meant to engender greater happiness and more positive emotions feels a little superfluous to me.

It’s not that I think practicing gratitude, meditation, yoga and the like aren’t valuable. I know that they are. It’s just that I’ve never been inclined to engage in such activities unfettered.

You can imagine my surprise to find myself gravitating in that direction recently. 

I have been going through a bit of a funk recently, which I talked about in my last blog post. To my untrained eye I would guess I was going through a bit of a depression. I found myself suddenly adrift after quitting my job to travel…only to have COVID take the option to travel away from me. I didn’t have a “Plan B” and I hadn’t realized how much of my identity was tied up in what I did as a profession. I wasn’t sure what to do with myself.

As I was in the middle of working through those emotions (which I wrote about in my previous blog post), I ended up watching a movie called Garnet’s Gold. 

An excerpt from my previous blog post: Last night Glenn and I were watching a movie called Garnet’s Gold. It’s a documentary about a quirky middle-aged man named Garnet who seemingly hasn’t done much with his life. Garnet dreams of returning to the Scottish Highlands in search of a long-lost legendary chest of buried gold. He believes he may have stumbled upon the hiding place of the gold 30 years prior while lost in the heather and the film follows his journey to return to that spot. Garnet’s 90-year-old bed-ridden mother, whom he still lives with, waves goodbye as he sets off for the highlands telling the camera “I hope he finds something, whatever it is. If it’s not gold, it’s his heart’s desire.” At one point in the film Garnet’s mother is talking about his fixation with finding the gold and she says “gold isn’t just stuff that you find in the ground or in a box marked X on a map. Your life consists a lot of the time in thinking about the past and your place in it, the friends you had. You gather up fragments of gold from those – gold dust.”   

I felt like his mother was a wisened oracle speaking directly to me through the screen. The concept of “gold dust” really stuck with me; the notion that even though I’m currently unable to experience the big exciting travel adventures I had my heart set on (my buried chest of gold), that I was still surrounded by smaller joys that were just as valuable and worthy of collecting (gold dust). 

Over the past several months I’ve been focused on finding the gold dust in my life. Those little moments and experiences that bring me joy. Essentially, I’ve been practicing gratitude – taking the time to notice and reflect upon the things I’m thankful for.

I found this activity to be quite gratifying and it has really helped me feel more grounded and stable during these tumultuous times (ya know, a raging pandemic, the fight for racial justice, a deadly insurrection attempt on the U.S. capitol).

I guess this whole peace, love and understanding thing might have some merit after all? (although I still draw the line at yoga chants) 

I’ve chronicled some of my gold dust below. I’ve done this primarily for myself, to create a bit of a journal for future reference – but you’re welcome to scroll through and see what I’ve been up to.

Just the act of recording these things has had a profound impact on my state of mind and has enabled me to move past the disappointment and frustration I was experiencing before.

I think that building this muscle for consciously counting my blessings will benefit me far into the future and will make those bigger more spectacular adventures and experiences that much more rich and profound because I’ll be better able to notice the little bits along the way.   

This is Stewart the hummingbird. His friends would call him “Stewie” except he doesn’t have any friends because Stewart is an asshole.

Stewart decided that the nectar in the hummingbird feeder was his own private reserve and would harass any other hummers that came by. From sunup to sundown he sat on these grape vines swiveling his head like a military gunner ready to take out the enemy.

I had a heart-to-heart with Stewart the day I took this photo and explained that if he continued to be a jerk I was going to take the feeder down. I must have really offended him because he left that evening and never returned. Although he was annoying, I got a lot of joy out of watching Stewart constantly on patrol – like a little fat grumpy old man yelling “get off my lawn!”

Also in our backyard, Glenn and I constructed what we call the “COVID Tent” in an attempt to mentally and emotionally make it through the dark and rainy Portland winter by enabling outdoor, physically distanced socializing.

My friend Alisa was my first guest and I’ve since had several people (one or two at a time) over to catch up. Honeydew is always on hand to supervise and make sure everyone is following COVID-safety guidelines.

Speaking of Honeydew, I’ve gotten a lot of joy out of watching her play with our neighbor’s new puppy Beatrice. Honeydew is getting a little slow and lazy in her old age (she’ll be 13 in March), but Bea certainly brings out her inner puppy. I made a little montage video of one of their more epic play dates.

Glenn and I have ventured out into nature several times in recent months seeking unique experiences that get us out of out town while also minimizing our contact with others.

We spent a couple of nights in a yurt. This sounded amazing…in theory. In reality, we discovered that a yurt is basically made of glorified plastic coated paper…which offers nothing when it is 24 °F (minus 4 °C) outside!

But, the clear and crisp weather delivered some amazing Honeydew approved views!

We also recently spent a couple of nights in a glorified horse trailer – a step up from the glorified paper yurt in terms of heat! The end of the trailer by the bed was a wall of glass which meant we had front-row seats to amazing sunrises in the mornings and twinkling stars at night.

The trailer came with a little activity book in the welcome basket. It contained mazes, sudoku, Mad Libs, etc. There was a section called “get to know your travel partner” that contained various open ended questions. I feel like I know Glenn quite well, but I thought it would be fun to ask him the questions anyhow.

I got the biggest chuckle from his response to “what’s your favorite campfire memory?” His eyes lit up and without missing a beat he said “oh, when Boy Scout leader Skip was messing around and accidentally spit his fake teeth into the fire!” I had visions of a little miniature Glenn, his face alight with the glow of a campfire, thinking that was the most hysterical thing he had ever seen.

In the past couple of months I’ve discovered all sorts of delectable and joyful bites. For example, a woman that sells yummy homemade pop-tarts out of her garage (thanks for the intel on that Shannon!)

Glenn and I went for a rambling drive to find a new place to go hiking one day and stumbled upon a drive-in diner that has amazing food, like this squash sandwich…

The awesome folks that lived in the tiny house in our backyard for several years made the exciting decision to buy their own home. It had been a long time since I’d made dinner for anyone other than Glenn, and creating a feast for Laura and Miguel to enjoy on their first night in their new home after an exhausting day of moving brought me great joy.

Our friend Steve took Glenn and I crabbing for the first time in our lives. It was a fascinating and fun experience.

To celebrate our adventure we invited our friend Fritz over for a crab bisque dinner…a soup I had never made before.

Since about May I’ve been suffering with plantar fasciitis. If you don’t know what that is, consider yourself lucky! I have tried most everything to combat it. I am awash with all sorts of spikey balls and rollers, heating pads, ice packs, orthotics, special insoles, splints, ointments and lasers. My condition has gradually improved and the addition of a massage gun to my daily treatments helped me make the biggest gains toward reducing the pain.

I’m now able to tolerate the pain enough to go shoggling with a small group of friends 3 or 4 times a week. “Shoggling” is a term Glenn and I coined with our friend Kristen many years ago.

Shoggling = shuffling + jogging + jiggling! The word alone brings me joy because it helps to diffuse society’s expectations of what speed/distance/form/body qualifies as a “real runner.”

The shoggling crew has brought me great joy. They are funny, encouraging and consistently show up…which makes me want to show up even when my nice warm bed suggests I should do otherwise.

We are a very food-motivated group, so we’re almost always shoggling to get coffee or waffles!

Over the holidays Glenn and I did a virtual fun run through the Slow AF Run Club. The “Santa Dash” was 12.25 km long (get it?) and it just about killed me. I haven’t run that far in a really long time and it was a toss up if I was going to puke or pass out first. The experience reminded me of how amazing my body is. There is joy in knowing I can somehow push through, even when I want to quit.

Our shoggling crew meets in downtown Portland (Oregon) at 7:00 AM, which at this latitude this time of year means it is still dark when we get started. The benefit of this is: a) no one else is around, and b) the occasional calm weather delivers amazing, jaw-dropping vistas.

One of the highlights of my morning shoggle is running into Wendel. Wendel is a Navy veteran who walks approximately 9 miles every morning. Every. Single. Day. Rain or shine. Wendel carries a big walking stick adorned with blinking lights and a boom box from which he plays classical music for all to enjoy.

Wendel always greets you with the most grandiose “hello!” followed by some deep pearls of wisdom about how amazing it is to be alive on that day.

Wendel and I had such an exchange one day a few years ago as I ran past him. He caught up to me again later as I was waiting for my friends to finish the route. He told me how much it means to him that I say hello each morning; about how important it is for everyone to feel seen and acknowledged and that most folks just run or bike past him without so much as looking up.

I’ve learned so much from Wendel over the years of our morning encounters. He inspires to try to move through the world as he does, with a profound love and joy for the people that cross his path.

Wendel isn’t gold dust…he’s a big, shiny gold nugget!

Like most dogs, Honeydew is a gold dust machine. She was a Guide Dog for the Blind puppy that we raised. The first blog I ever made was actually a chronicle of our experience raising her. She ended up being “career changed” – which is a nice way of saying she didn’t cut it to be a working guide. This meant that we got to keep her as a pet.

Honeydew has always been very attached to me and she’s been right by my side, day and night, as I’ve been working through my funk.

We’ve gone on several hiking adventures over the past couple of months. Honeydew loves hiking, even if she can’t go as far as she used to be able to. I’ll never get tired of following her cute little puppy butt down the trail.

We have worked as volunteers for Guide Dogs for the Blind for over 13 years. Unfortunately, most volunteering jobs are on hold right now due to the pandemic. Recently, however, we were approved to be a foster home for Guide Dogs who need a place to stay for a little while.

We fostered our first pup over the holidays. Kaelyn is a fully trained Guide Dog who is waiting to be paired with her blind or visually impaired partner. Honeydew was thrilled to have a new buddy to hang out with. They were two peas in a pod.

As you might imagine, Kaelyn was remarkably well trained and an absolute sweetie. Kaelyn loved a good belly rub almost as much as she loved a good nap. We joked that she was a narcoleptic puppy because she would fall asleep at the drop of a hat if you were petting her. I recorded a video of this behavior, which regularly cracked me up as Glenn and I did this to her multiple times a day.

In addition to connecting with friends in our backyard COVID Tent, I’ve also been able to connect virtually and even out in the real world with folks that are important to me.

Sometimes it’s just been little random connections that bring me joy. Like the time my friend Alisa and I realized we had basically the same exact view at the same exact moment (complete with black-toed socks and fuzzy slippers).

I was also able to meet up with my friend Gwen. I met Gwen almost 7 years ago while doing a 25-mile group hike in the mountains. Gwen was doing the hike to celebrate having just turned 70 years old. Gwen’s zest for life is closely matched by her tenacity and determination to tackle hard things. She is one of the most active humans I know, of any age, both physically and mentally.

She recently took me hiking in her neighborhood in a rural area outside of town. It was beautiful…at least what I could see of the scenery out of the visor I had steamed up from huffing and puffing by trying to keep up with her!

Gwen shared her own experience of transitioning out of working, including the importance of focusing on finding the things that give you joy and trying new things…even if you aren’t very good at them.

She shared with me her new-found love of latch hooking photographs she’s taken. (For the uninitiated, latch hooking is a craft where a hooked tool is used to weave small bits of yarn into a mesh background to create a picture.) Her precious latch hook canvasses were at the top of her list of most important things to save as they were quickly evacuated from their home this summer due to a big wildfire that was burning across the street!

Seeing the affinity Gwen had for latch hooking made me start thinking about what crafts I might enjoy. I was inspired to try my hand at a paint-by-number painting – a craft I did as a child, along with latch hooks. It’s been so much fun. I find it relaxing and dare I say…meditative.

A good friend of mine has also started doing paint-by-numbers. I love the idea of us both sitting at our respective kitchen tables half-way across the country from each other, mutually engaged in this relaxing and fun artistic endeavor.

Glenn has also been able to connect with friends…and sometimes these exchanges are beyond hysterical. For example, a good friend of his from college does a podcast where participants taste different stout beers and share what they think of them.

Once they are done recording an episode (virtually over Zoom), they sit around chatting and often drink one of the beers they enjoyed tasting. Recently, during one such episode, they were tasting a flight of beers that had quite a few imperial stouts…apparently the heavy hitters of the stout world in terms of smooth sweet taste and high alcohol content.

They drank one beer after the next while chatting each other up. As the evening progressed Glenn’s voice kept getting louder and louder. I could only overhear Glenn’s portion of the conversation (he had headphones on), but given the juvenile banter reaching my ears, it was clear Glenn was getting more than a little tipsy.

By the time he hung up he was completely shit-faced. He came stumbling out to the living room proudly proclaiming “I just had a total rager with the fellas…over Zoom, ’cause I party. I’m…bed…now.” Ahh, to be young again. They spent a good portion of their next gathering recounting their respective hangovers.

To say that this last U.S. election was tumultuous would be an understatement. So many things happened that were frustrating and alarming. Given all of the vitriol and divisiveness and outright lies surrounding the election, it’s hard to find much gold dust.

Sometimes, gold dust is microscopic and can only be found by crushing rock and using harsh chemicals to dissolve it out. That is sort of how finding joy in this election season felt to me…needing to work extra hard to crush and sift to create my pile of gold dust.

One of those joys was having the opportunity to vote a woman into the second-highest elected position in this country. To make it even better, I got to vote for a woman of color, and most especially a Black woman.

Another aspect of this election season that greatly impacted me was witnessing the power and beauty of Black voices and of Black votes. I am in awe of how the Black community, and especially Black women, consistently show up to make this country a better place…even though this country consistently shows up to marginalize, oppress and at times exterminate them. I think Amanda Gorman’s inaugural poem was a beautiful and hopeful testament to this dynamic.

The other day I happened upon this cute display of miniature gnomes with Black Lives Matter signs in a little garden of succulents. This gave me a little chuckle…but it also reinforced for me the importance of continuing the fight for racial justice. Yard signs and a Black woman as vice president does not mean that racism and white supremacy has been dismantled. Far from it.

Glenn dealt with his own personal version of a “I quit my job but can’t travel” funk through productivity. He decided to clean out 15 years of junk that had accumulated in our basement. Every few days he’d emerge from the basement clutching some sort of little treasure that he planned to either donate or sell on eBay.

I used to be a big collector of Muppets paraphernalia, especially Kermit. Glenn had already sold all of his old G.I. Joe figurines on eBay and was eager to start selling off my Muppets collection. I was hesitant at first…I mean, I’d been carting those things around with me for the last 30 years. They were an important part of my identity at one point in my life.

One day a friend was telling me about the experience of giving away a small chair that had been in her family for generations. She had no use for it, but felt guilty about getting rid of it because it had been her mother’s, etc. She finally arrived at the understanding that by giving it away it could take on second life as a chair that would bring yet another family joy.

I thought about this as I gave Glenn the okay to sell my Muppets stuff. Wouldn’t you know, those items are now out bringing joy to others rather than growing musty while crammed in a box in my basement for decades to come. Below is one of several such messages Glenn has gotten from those that adopted my stuff.

Glenn’s older brother was also doing some spelunking of his own into old things and found a story Glenn wrote when he was a small child. Glenn was an early bloomer when it came to reading and writing and he thinks he was about 5 years old when he came up with this gem (the teacher’s response cracks me up)!

It’s amusing to see how Glenn has/hasn’t changed over the last 45 years. Today, I’d say Glenn grew up to be a solid feminist with a continued weakness for pancakes.

His brother also unearthed some old photos from their youth where they used to play with Star Wars action figures in the back yard. In December, for Glenn’s birthday, his brother sent him a metal Star Wars lunchbox filled with similar action figures, along with copies of the photos.

Glenn texted his childhood best friend Chris who was always a party to these adventures asking if he remembered those times (Chris is the guy in the fur hat in the beer drinking podcast group photo above). This was their text exchange…

I find that so charming. That two people, over the course of a 40-year friendship, could remember and re-live a single joyful moment in time with the aid of an old photograph.

Another thing Glenn found in the basement was recordings of old 8mm films from when my mother was a child/young woman. My mother passed away a few years ago from pancreatic cancer (I think some of my best writing was done when processing that loss). I was incredibly close with my mother and although she told me stories about some of the experiences in the films, I regret that I never retained many of the details.

I found great joy in watching these videos of my mom now that the pain of her loss is less acute. It’s fascinating to see the same mannerisms and facial expressions as a child that embody who she was to me as an adult. From sticking out her tongue, to being reluctant to be photographed, to smoothing the back of her hair…these gestures are so familiar to me.

It was also a joy to see footage of my beloved grandmother Clarabelle (best name ever!) for whom culotte pants never went out of style. I’m pretty sure my affinity for capri pants is hereditary.

Glenn also unearthed his old computer in the basement. Although Glenn and I have known each other for a long time (I first met him when I was 14) we were never romantically involved until much later in life.

We reconnected at a friend’s wedding to discover that I was finishing graduate school in Washington and the previous year he had moved to Washington for work. Not long after I got a job interview where he lived. I was a poor student in need of a free place to stay and some help getting to a job interview, so I sent Glenn an email to see if he could help me out.

Our early courtship played out over email and Glenn had kept his computer nestled snuggly in the basement in an effort to save our correspondence. It was so fun to re-read our exchanges and watch our relationship grow. In particular, I found the twitterpated email I wrote to Glenn below quite enjoyable.

My list went on an on (and got decidedly more juicy and embarrassing!), but you get the idea. Many of these things are still true. Although, I must admit, I’m less enamored of his nasty hats and snoring these days. And, more importantly, I no longer share my movie popcorn (drenched in nutritional yeast) with anyone, not even Glenn!

There is, after all, such a thing as taking this gold dust business too far.