I sidestep my skis up the steep snowbank at the top of my driveway, digging deep with my poles to prevent the backward slide into the dirty CRV. Pausing at the top, I smile at my brand new MADSHUSH ski tips sticking out in mid air. I push off my mini mountain and swish onto the trail. I love my new skis.

 Morning light streams in through the tall windows and I savor a few moments of contentment, perched on a bar stool at the granite countertop in my daughter’s new spacious kitchen. My 3 year old grandkid is beside me. We are each in our own world: I with my pen, he with a paper napkin.

🚘 I’m not driving fast to a dentist appointment on a typical Vermont winter day when I feel a familiar slipping beneath me that demands my full attention. I gently touch the brakes, noting to self: don’t oversteer. I’m aware that I’m going downhill and I’m not going any slower. In fact, I’m sliding into the other lane. Good thing no one is coming. I stay calm, reminding myself that I’m good at steering out of a skid. But this is not any skid. Now I’m fishtailing. OH. There’s nothing I can do to stop this one. I’m out of control. I hold onto the wheel and wonder what will happen next. 

Suddenly, there’s a black and white speckled pup trotting down the middle of the road. I slow up, grateful no one's behind me. I flick on flashers and roll down the window as a car from the other direction approaches, stops, and the driver’s door opens. I wrongly assume he’s the owner. 

A few years ago, I watched a tiny turtle hatchling claw its way out of the cavernous sandy hole that had been its safe haven. I restrained my impulse to give it a nudge over the lip of the hole - even after I watched it slide back to the bottom - twice. Slowly, painstakingly, it eventually crested and waddled straight towards the pond even though it was over a hundred yards away. Tall grass, shrubs, fallen trees, and countless other dangers did not dissuade this intrepid little snapping turtle.

I’m on a mission to befriend my nervous system and apparently, I’m not alone. 

Dr. Deb Dana - a respected expert on Polyvagal Theory, wrote a book titled: Anchored: How to Befriend Your Nervous System which I borrowed from my therapist. Since I often read in the bathtub, it looks like I will need to buy her a new copy and keep this one. Which is perfectly fine by me. It’s a gem of a book. 📖

We humans like threes. Three little pigs, three wishes, three kings, and... my personal morning ritual sings to the rhythm of three, bringing a satisfying sense of completion. I experience this every day in my spot in the woods, when I feel gratitude for being alive at this time 🕰, in this place 🏠and with these companions.

Out in the woods, I feel reverence for being alive at this time, and I take another breath and inwardly state: in this place as I feel my feet on the earth.