When it rains, it pours. That seems to be the theme around here lately. My knee is still bothering me. The Baker's cyst is still there, although I finally have an appointment and hopefully will begin getting some answers.

I am moving again. Another Airbnb. Another temporary home. I am getting pretty good at this.

There is a quiet change happening within me. It is not dramatic enough for most people to notice. There are no fireworks. No grand announcements. In fact, from the outside, my life probably looks much the same. I still go to work. I still spend time writing, practicing my harp, researching, building programs, and dreaming about the future. But something feels different.

Lately, I have been feeling something I have not experienced in quite a while: momentum.

Healing has a funny way of arriving through circumstances we never would have chosen.

I have been asking myself the same question again. Where should I live?

It is so bloody hot. There really is no more eloquent way for me to say it.

Lately, I have been noticing something new. I wake up excited.

Lately, I have been feeling lighter. Perhaps literally, as the weight slowly comes off. But what I really mean is something deeper.

Where has this year gone already? Halfway through.

I look at the calendar on my wall, the giant Post-it notes filled with goals, projects, books, music, routines, and dreams. There are boxes checked and boxes still waiting. New ideas have appeared. Others have quietly faded away. And somewhere in the middle of all of it, I think I may have made an important discovery.

This Sunday is Father's Day in the United States. It is also my younger daughter's 35th birthday.

This week brought a few small victories.

I had forgotten how tired breaking a bone can make a person.

Recovery is going well. I am looking forward to seeing the specialist on the 8th. There is something comforting about having the next appointment on the calendar; another marker, another checkpoint, another reminder that healing is moving forward whether I can feel it or not.

This week did not go as planned. I fell again. This time, I broke my ankle.

This past week, I moved, again, about ninety minutes farther north into the Sierra foothills.

There is something else I am noticing. When I think about having a voice - a real voice, maybe even a loud one - something shifts in me.

I am refocusing again.

Lately, I have been thinking about hunger.

I have not been journaling. And I can feel the difference.