b & b

It’s gonna be alright.

Easy to say it, easier to type it, but (for me) it’s been difficult to believe it.

I have close friends with noteworthy financial and health troubles, my business is in the second half of a brain-freezing transition, my storage unit and attic hold 20 years of paper clutter that nags me in the night. My cross-country move may arrive too soon for my finances and too late for my hungry heart. I am conscious of middle age just a hop-skip away. I am aware I’m not who or where I intended to be by this time. And yet…

I feel alright.

If you’ve read my last few writes or know me at all, you might be wondering where Little Miss Sometimes Snarky, Sometimes Cynical, Down in the Dumps, Stuck in the Bed, Stuck in her Head found some well-rooted optimism?


Where many do: Buddhism. And baseball.


Before this summer I had two of those soul-surging anxiety alerts—I don’t call them “attacks”—in 42 years. This summer, I had three in a week.

Uh huh. I thought the same thing. Yup.

As always, I got schooled. It taught me to stop, silence my Self, and deeply listen to other people and what my bodymind wants and needs. I’m real clear on why bodymind has no space between the words. Or even a hyphen. They are, indeed, one.


While I was stopped and silent, I saw how fears have nibbled around and through my mind until it’s small enough to get lost, frail enough to fly apart at the slightest puff of wind…and late summer has hurricanes aplenty.

So I went where everyone goes when holes need filling and edges need bolstering: Google.

A search for buddhism and anxiety returns some nifty stuff, I tell ya. I spent the day reconnecting with just what I needed: something as vast, enduring, and unequivocal as the sea. A few days later I went to my first minor league baseball game and found much of the same.

Vibrant action separated by long vigils of inaction. Acceptance of imperfection. The hazards of desire. The necessity of practice. That essential optimism. Both the Bs breathe the big and little things that nudge us to be more (or less) of who we are.


The late summer storms have come and they wear many faces. Malicious schemery. Cancer. Pride. Greed. Scarcity. Judgment.

I’m shaping a still and silent place to observe it all, an avid student with a major major and a minor minor.



(For me) Buddhabaseball. Not even a hyphen.


An unforgettable summer. An end to much that I know, the beginning of a helluvalot that I don’t. And it’s all going to come out alright…

I feel sure.

I wish the same for you.