Hi. I’m Maery, a writer in the Twin Cities. Although I no longer have the body for extreme adventures, I love to bicycle, go horse trail riding and take hikes with my dogs.  

One thing you should know before you join me on my quest -- I don’t have a map. And I’ve been known to wander off course and stop to listen to birds and look for agates. I also have a few issues with fear and anxiety. In other words, I’m not a good role model or adventure guide. But in this time of uncertainty and polarization, I'm not sure anyone has a reliable map. We'll just figure it out as we go.

dog running

A slight play on words… speed of light, speed of life… they are both very fast.

It seems like what I planned to write about becomes out-of-date faster than I can write about it. Regardless, I’m going to go back two weeks, to when I went to a restorative yoga practice. The event was called “Yoga in the Yurt” and was at Will Heal Farm.

I almost didn’t go because I was so tired and achy. And I didn’t feel like I could spare the time. It was a Sunday evening and I had to work the next day and needed to do laundry so I’d have something to wear.

It was actually Steve who reminded me how much better I feel after these yoga sessions. There is at least a few hours of residual happiness and calm I get to take home with me, which he probably appreciates.

I like the group of people who attend the classes held at the farm. I don’t get the chance very often to hang out with or work with people I feel that kind connection to. It’s important to get a dose of shared-mindedness and space every once and a while.

It makes me do a little happy dance…

dancing dog

The floor of the yurt was quickly filled by women carrying yoga mats, pillows and blankets. There was cinnamon tea and Golden Milk to drink, along with candlelight, and a wood burning stove to warm us. We were each given an eye pillow to shut out the light and a rock from Lake Superior to hold during our practice. I don’t know anyone who lives in Minnesota who doesn’t feel a certain love for the North Shores. I held my heart-shaped rock in my hand, against my stomach, and remembered the sound of the waves that I knew so well.

I don’t know if we all came to the yurt for the same reasons, but I’m guessing everyone was looking for a feeling of peace and to let go of whatever worries and busyness they were carrying, at least for the two hours we were there.

The focus in this session was on “contentment,” which Allison Miller, the yoga instructor, told us was a combination of gratitude and letting go. Whenever dark thoughts fill our heads, we can replace them with thoughts of what we are grateful for. It may turn out that we will even feel gratitude for the dark times someday, when we are on the other side of wisdom and can see what lessons were learned and new strengths found.

dog standing on a rock

After the practice was done, I went to the farmhouse and bought some of Will Heal Farm’s honey, garlic, lavender body butter and facial serum before I drove home.

One other thing that Allison said during the class was how an article she read reported that the warm, grateful, awe-struck feelings we experience at certain times in our life can be re-experienced when we share the story with others.

So here I am sharing and reliving a bit of the contentment I experienced.

It’s my way of slowing down the speed of life and taking a moment to be grateful for Allison, Rachel and Pat at Will Heal Farm, all the women who attended the yoga practice, Steve who prompted me to get my priorities straight, and for you, the other like-minded peoples in my life, who have come here to read this. Thank you.

walking in the woods



I was meditating a while ago and put out the question to the universe, “Who am I?” I know. I’ve been asking that a lot lately.

I really hadn’t expected an answer so I was surprised when the words that came into my head were “Truth Teller.”

What? No I’m not. If I was, I wouldn’t keep backspacing over what I’ve written here. I wouldn’t be thinking that I sound too negative, too radical, too angry.

And which truth would I tell? There’s my truth. There’s your truth. There are a million truths out there. There are even “alternative facts” to contend with now.

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My horse Shadow, 1998

Prologue: I wrote this for a reading at my writer’s group to discuss where I am as a writer. WARNING: It contains some swearing and crazy-ass thinking. I’m still grieving the loss of Luke. And it appears any time you suffer one loss, it brings up feelings from all the other losses in your life. As I explained to my writer’s group, I may often be quiet on the outside, but my brain is very busy and very vocal on the inside, and it sounds something like this…

Since Luke died, I’ve been trying to figure out who I am.

I know that sounds very silly, coming from a woman my age. Or just silly in general because, of course, losing a horse, no matter how much I loved him and how much a part of my life he was, doesn’t change who I am. I’m still me.

Of course.

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