On a hot day in May, I sat across the table from a best-selling fiction author, an author whose book was on the Oprah’s book club list. As part of my attendance at a small writers’ conference held at the local community college, I could have a sample of writing reviewed by a published author.

As my friend made her way to my door, she brushed past a harmless looking fleshy green nopales cactus (which I’d always chalked up as a mystery variety). Later when we sat talking, she sharply lifted her hand from her thigh shooting me a confused look.

The desert is a place of resourcefulness and resilience. One doesn’t last long without these skills. Historically this bug was brushed off the cacti, collected, dried and mashed to dye fabric a deep, beautiful red. Without help from people or other creatures intervening to save the cacti, the nopal is left to come up with a defense of its own.

There’s this bug, I jokingly call the “vampire bug” that looks like white fluff stuck to the side of a nopal cactus pad. Its official name is the cochineal scale insect (Dactylopius coccus).

Community connections can happen in any place, at any time. Recently I was on a strategy conference call and I mentioned the work I do around Disability justice. A young parent messaged me after the call wanting to know how he could best support his six-year-old disabled son.

How people in leadership act sets the tone for those they are leading. It’s been 75 days since Trump took office and his decision to constantly lie is starting to affect my town over two thousand miles away, creating a deeper sense of distrust which is showing up in subtle ways.

“You have to look deeper, way below the anger, the hurt, the hate, the jealousy, the self-pity, way down deeper where the dreams lie, son. Find your dream. It is the pursuit of the dream that heals you.”

Many years ago–actually decades ago now–a friend gifted me a button with the saying “Gentleness is Strength.” I didn’t understand. She explained I was gentle, but there was an underlying determination (most of my life I’ve labeled it perseverance) that shone through the gentleness.

On November 10th 2016, the day after the election I sent out the following letter to people who I would identify as elders. Those people with wisdom, who have thoughtfully maintained connection and dedication to, as Grace Lee Boggs says, “growing our souls.”

It can be difficult to figure out when we are doing something out of obligation versus doing something which actually fuels us. Yet, if we can figure out for ourselves obligation from nourishment, then we have the best information to make a choice about our activities.

I watch as smoke drifts upwards from a small fire in my friend’s backyard. As the smoke lifts into the night sky, I ask it to carry my prayers and pleas up to Spirit.

Self-care doesn’t start with “doing.” Taking care of you doesn’t start with routines, activities, goals. Self-care starts with the truth, being in your truth.

This morning I am out in the desert sitting among the prickly pear cacti and saguaros. I am here to contemplate divining new life/work paths, to give my heart a break from the flood of pain on social media/real-life and for much-needed nourishment.

The wind is scattering hundreds of little yellow Palo Verde flowers across the cement porch where I sit. I am holding a pot of dirt and the remnants of an orchid my Grandma gave me.

Exhausted by process, I escape to the desert to let it hold my heart. The past two months have been an intense time of reading, re-reading, writing, editing and listening.

This morning when I went outside to greet the sun, it was already almost halfway up in the sky. I try to go out and greet the sun most mornings. There’s something about feeling sunlight on your face, eyes closed, that just feels so good especially in the winter.

I am deep in the writing process working steadily towards a deadline at the end of January. Last week I printed out a lot of my work and am steadily combing through each chapter and editing, which pretty much involves me asking myself about 50 times a day, “What am I really trying to say?”

Clouds pile on top of each other from behind the mountains, slowly building, expanding upwards, reaching up and then out across the sky. My favorite time of year in the desert, this unpredictable Monsoon season, with the miserable humidity and soaring temperatures and then sudden explosions of rain bringing cool relief.

News — a publisher is officially interested in the Self-Care for Social Justice book manuscript. YAY! This means an adjustment, turning more of my writing time/energy towards getting the manuscript ready. So, for the next 6-8 months this blog format will be shifting a bit.

In friendship, I’ve hit the De/Fence more times than I can count. The De/Fence hides in the landscape of friendship, like a camouflage wall sticking out of the desert sand, blending in until I smack into it face first.