Another gorgeous, sunny, warm Portland day!

We just got back from a hike with our friends, their beautiful 12 year old pitbull, and adorable 5 month old son. He was fascinated with Adahlia, who kept him entertained with a stream of baby vocalizations.

She did really great on the hike; Joe and I took turns carrying her. She stayed awake the entire time and seemed to enjoy herself. Now, she naps.

I feel better after the hike, too – my right kidney had been hurting at a dull throb since I woke up. It still feels a little heavy, but I think the movement was helpful.

And there is just nothing like a hike on the trails through Forest Park. So much wild beauty in our city’s backyard! It’s a phenomenal treasure.

We are at that tricky time, over 2 weeks post transfusion, when she’s starting to look a little wan or waxy, especially in the mornings… And I wonder how much is real and how much I’m obsessing. It’s so hard because I am both mother and practitioner. I can’t help but notice what my eye is trained to observe, and with my own child, its observations too easily become worries. Acknowledging my observations and releasing the worry, anxiety, and fear that threaten to take over is daily practice. Closer to transfusion, it becomes an hourly practice.

In moments like these, it’s important for me to focus my attention on my diaphragm. (Its movement is much freer since the visceral manipulation.) I visualize it like a bellows, pushing and swirling energies through me, drawing air into my lungs and coursing Qi through my entire being. As it moves, it carries out through my feet, root (pelvis), and breath all the unhelpful tensions and anxieties. Down it goes into the earth, where she recycles it and uses it as energy to help plants grow. I visualize my center glowing brightly, its fire fueled by my breath, its flames steady.

And then I am steady, centered, and clear, and able to be here, strong and present, for my family.