"Mommy! Let's go over to the big boat!" My little superhero starts running towards a huge spray in the Columbia River as metal arms touch a barge at the end of the beach. I feel hesitant to walk anymore. There is so much on my to-do list and none of it includes the writing, cooking and gardening that I really want to do. Most of my morning has been spent responding to emails out of obligation, the kind of work that piles on and feels like a burial of menial tech tasks, rather than an opening and exploration of the human spirit.

I walk slowly, exhaustedly, behind my toddler as we make our way down this industrial Portland beach. I want to live! I find it impossible to do this in front of a computer (unless it means that I'm writing and creating and doing the things that feed me.)

"HIDE!!! Quick!" he shouts and we run into a driftwood shelter to duck down and away from the noise of the loading ship. It feels like a heart in here, something created out of pure joy and not out of a need to be important. I imagine a group of people working together to build this place. They had to put aside emails and tax forms for a few hours. They must have laughed with each other and maybe they shared a meal after their work. I long for this kind of truly important building to be the majority of what I do with my day. I choose this kind of work and I recognize that I will have to make this choice hourly, as my day goes on.

The wind blows through this stacked wooden heart. Movement. How do I create more movement in my life? More time for meditation, family and yoga? It's in the silences. It's in the spaces between the busy. It's in a straight piece of paper and pen where I can write one word expressions for my joy in bouncing letters that cannot be ignored. It's a choice of quiet contemplation of myself while my toddler snoozes:

Write.Play with my children.Meditate. Garden.Cook.

I spent three hours of the morning away from my top five. Instead, I worried about business and money. I spent the morning in my mind, living in lack, instead of living in the abundance that is all around me.

My son begged to go hiking and due to his relentless nature, I succumbed. We walked to the beaches at Kelly Point park and he, in his super hero costume, asked about the boats and the flags and the fish. His little warrior self told me how he would kill the fishes and bring them home for dinner. He picked two daisies, "a mom and a baby," and said that even big boys like him could take care of moms and their babies.

This time and the mind I am bringing to it, this is real for me. This is truth in who I want to be. And so much else is not. To the river that moves all around us here, I ask for the clarity today to find my truth and follow the needs of my spirit. I know that I am so greatly blessed and held in exactly the ways I need to be in order to do this.

For now, I sit inside this blanced log teepee while my son steers us on a course towards zombies.

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