On our Clothing Donations and Ghana Beaches

Posted on by Esterina Anderson

If you don’t know about the issue of clothing waste on Ghanaian beaches, and you have a moment, stop here and look up “clothes in the ocean off Ghana.” What you’ll see is not exaggerated. It’s real, and it’s disturbing.

The clothes we give away to thrift stores or place in donation bins come from a place of good intention. And there are people who benefit from those donations. But there are not enough people in the world who need clothing at the scale we are producing and discarding it.

I’ve seen a version of this myself. Back in 2017, my husband and I traveled to Africa for a few weeks on an overland safari. Twice we passed through the town of Maun in Botswana. It was one of the only places we saw with shops and street vendors. And what were they mostly selling? Clothes. Racks and racks of them—many clearly from first-world countries like ours.

Most of us have heard about the issues in the clothing industry—sweatshops, low wages, poor conditions. I remember learning about it decades ago, and yet the problem seems to have only grown. And if I’m being honest, knowing all of that hasn’t stopped me from participating in it.

I’ve tried. I shop consignment more than I used to. I’ve made attempts at keeping a capsule wardrobe. But somehow, every few months, I still end up with an overstuffed closet and find myself purging clothes, shoes, and jewelry—keeping only what “sparks joy.”

And then I do it again.

Something as simple as needing a pair of black leggings turns into a spiral. I’ll start with the intention of buying just one pair. I type it into a search bar, and suddenly I’m scrolling through endless options—capris, patterns, odd cuts, things that aren’t quite right. Minutes turn into more minutes. Then I find a three-pack. Do I get all black? Or the one with red because it might match something I haven’t even worn yet?

Before I know it, I’ve bought more than I need.

They arrive quickly. Sometimes I don’t even try them on. Sometimes I do and don’t like them. Either way, I usually end up wearing the same simple black pair over and over until they wear out, while the rest sit untouched.

Eventually, I donate them.

Clothes that were barely worn. Clothes that didn’t “spark joy.”

And I know exactly where they might end up.

Even when I try to do better, I still fall into the same patterns. Convenience wins. Time feels limited. It’s easier to click than to spend hours digging through racks in a store. It’s easier to tell myself I’ll do better next time.

But next time looks a lot like this time.

And it’s uncomfortable to admit that I am part of something I don’t agree with.

This isn’t just about leggings. It shows up in other ways too—small purchases, quick replacements, things that don’t last. I don’t need to list them all. I know they’re there.

I don’t have a clean solution to this. I don’t suddenly shop perfectly or live without impact. But I do have awareness, and maybe that’s where it starts.

Not with perfection. Not with guilt.

Just with seeing it clearly.

Because once you see it, it’s hard to pretend you don’t.

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On Making your Bed

Posted on by Esterina Anderson

I am told a good life starts in the morning with making your bed.

Do you make your bed?

I’ve heard all reasons of why folks do or don’t make their bed. It is a personal decision. But research shows that people who make their bed are more successful, productive, and happier.

I make my bed. I feel energetically better when I do. The room appears neater, and I don’t feel schlepy when I crawl back in it at night.

I have also heard people say, “Why bother? It’s only going to get messy again.”

There is truth to that. But your body will also get dirty after you shower. Most of us don’t skip showers for that reason.

A lot of people tell me they don’t do yoga or meditate because they aren’t flexible, their minds don’t work that way, or they aren’t in shape. As they say in the yoga world:

“Saying you don’t do yoga because you aren’t flexible is like saying you are too dirty to take a shower.”

Taking it a step further would be to say that you are too out of shape to exercise.

I hate to break it to you—we are all the same. Our bodies and minds need maintenance, and when we don’t maintain them, we get a monkey mind and fall out of shape. It’s really that simple. Yes, there are exceptions, but almost all of them can be overcome.

We can skip cleaning our spaces and making our beds (or weeding our gardens—literally and metaphorically)—but while we are at it, why not skip that shower too? And why bother to exercise? Won’t we become atrophic again when we stop?

To live is to maintain. To live well is to maintain what supports us—our health, our habits, our homes, our finances, our pets… and even our minds. They can all go to pot if we skip the maintenance and lose sight of their health.

Yes—this takes up a lot of the day. But it’s worth the clean and clear space, because what you see around you directly affects what you feel inside you. You can feel it in your energy if you quiet your mind and get in touch with it.

So make your bed.

See what changes.
Namaste.

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On Non Alcoholic Beverages

Posted on by Esterina Anderson

20 months and counting. This is just my point of view and may not be suitable for all.

10/9/22

Today is 20 months without alcohol for me.

I’ve learned a lot about myself in the last 20 months, particularly about drinking.

I love to drink. Not just alcohol. Beverages. All kinds—coffee, tea, sparkling water, soda (diet ONLY), Crystal Light… and now non-alcoholic (NA) beer.

I’ve always loved the taste of beer. I think my first experience of beer was when I was around 7 or so. My family and I were coming back from a Sunday afternoon of fishing off the piers of Brooklyn, NY. We didn’t plan to stay out that long, and we had nothing to drink. I was soooo thirsty.

On the way home, we stopped for a family favorite—pizza at Spumoni Gardens. My dad stood on the pizza line with my brothers, and my mom and I were on the drink line. The beer for my father came out first. I had been complaining for hours about being thirsty. The soda was taking entirely too much time. My mom handed me the beer and said, “Just a sip.” I took the flimsy wax-coated cup off the tray and intended to take one gulp, but promptly downed the entire thing. My mom looked at me with horror.

“You liked that?” she asked.

“Yes, I was thirsty,” I replied.

The workers behind the counter handed us the sodas, and the pressure of the line moved us out to the general courtyard, where we sat with my dad and brothers.

My mom was still shocked when she said, “I need to go back on line to get the beer—Esterina drank it all.”

The rest of my family stared at me in awe, everyone asking how I could have liked the taste.

Geez, I was just thirsty, and it quenched my thirst is all. I didn’t understand the big deal.

I had also danced for 10 years—2–3 times a week for most of the school year. I would put on a pink leotard for ballet lessons and a black one for tap and jazz. I was always conscious of how that leotard fit. As I got older and started filling out more, I started to think about calories and the things I liked. I always loved soda, and when I realized that diet soda tasted almost exactly the same, I decided to never have non-diet soda again.

I may have had non-diet soda once or twice since then (I honestly can’t say), but it’s diet soda for me now. At least for the past 35 years, it has been.

As a young adult, I never chose alcohol as a beverage of choice unless it was some fruity, elaborate cocktail on a beach somewhere. Even then, I’d only have one—completely aware of the sheer number of calories the drink had.

But sometime in my early 30s, there was nothing but non-diet soda and beer as an option with pizza somewhere after helping some friends move. I was hot, hungry, and thirsty. I wouldn’t drink the soda, so I had the light beer instead—fewer calories.

And oh my gosh, was it good! Beer and pizza together was amazing. It was Miller Lite that our friends bought. So the next Friday for pizza night, I picked up a six-pack of Miller Lite. Light beer became a part of my life.

Well, fast forward a few years. I met my now husband, who introduced me to enjoying the subtleties of wine. That was a new area for me. Wine isn’t so easy to just have one when there is a whole bottle involved. The addiction took hold from there. Light beer turned into all kinds, and a little wine turned into way too much.

Now I’m 20 months from my last drink and am as happy as I’ve ever been. I don’t miss anything about it. But I do have to give a giant plug to NA beer. I love it! I love it like I love diet soda. All of my life since I switched to diet soda, I just don’t even like the taste of regular soda. It’s so sweet my teeth hurt. When it’s the only option, I’ve often taken a sip to be polite but let the cup sit full.

When I first got sober, one day after gardening I craved beer. It had long been a go-to after a very hot day or long hours of work. I remembered we had NA beer in the fridge, but I opted for the diet soda instead. It was just as refreshing.

The next day, I started telling this same story to one of the Aware Recovery companions who came to my house as part of the year-long program I admitted myself to. When I got to the part where I remembered there was NA beer in the fridge, she stopped me with some kind of urgency and almost yelled, “You didn’t have any, did you?!”

“No,” I replied—taken aback that she perceived I nearly avoided a relapse. What did I know? Was NA beer a gateway to drinking again? It seemed to be!

A few days later, I told another companion who was at the house about this treacherous near miss. This one told me that despite being in recovery, she is a bartender and has NA beer and mocktails all of the time. She treated the episode as no big deal.

I didn’t comment. I needed to mull this over. Maybe it was one of those things where there is no hard and fast rule—to each their own.

No one talked about NA drinks in AA. My husband ended up buying a few varieties to try himself, and they were always around the house. But it wasn’t until about a year ago this month that I dared try one.

At my first sip, I was convinced I had beer. I had to go to the fridge and read the can. It wasn’t one of those 0.0% ones. It did claim it was <0.5%. Again, I was scared about this little amount. I looked it up and read there is no way anyone can get drunk from that amount. You would need to drink 40 for any kind of buzz. Your body processes this tiny amount so quickly that even if you could ingest 480 oz in any short period of time, you still can’t get inebriated.

Inebriation-proof and tastes this good? It seemed as too good to be true—like the Diet Coke I still love.

I started drinking them and trying different kinds. They are so good. To me, as good as the real thing—but no buzz. No risk of slurring or not being able to drive.

Nothing came up on my very frequent urine tests with Aware, the breathalyzer, or at the addiction treatment center I went to for Vivitrol shots.

It took me weeks to even think about telling the third companion that I was drinking NA beer. She was the youngest of the group and seemed to be the most receptive to such an alternative thought. As soon as I told her, she piped up that she still goes to bars with friends and drinks soda or whatever non-alcoholic cocktail might be advertised on the menu. She has been doing that for years and never felt tempted.

Not long after, another companion was added to my dwindling number of visits (because I was nearing the end of the program), and this one had a whole list of NA cocktails up her sleeve. Additionally, she didn’t get the AA word that drinking any of these out of a wine glass was the road to ruin, so my guilt about even entertaining such a thought went out the window.

Now, I am not saying this is okay for everyone—to have NA drinks, beers, or mocktails, or to have them in traditional drinking cups. Perhaps if I didn’t take that pause when that first companion sort of scared me, it may have quickly put me somewhere bad. I’ll never know.

It’s often not possible to know when you made the right choice. Usually, you know when you made the wrong one.

But I’m still not saying it’s a great idea or alternative for everyone. It might not be. I am not an expert, and the only experience I’ve had is my own short-lived one.

Not long ago, I opened the question about yes/no to NA beverages to the local town Facebook recovery group I am in… and if one could get their proverbial head bitten off, I would have. Glad I only asked and didn’t tell them I did!! Not one person (not one) thought it a good idea.

The two biggest comments were:

1—When did we ever drink for the taste?
2—Mimicking the real thing will lead back to the real thing.

And I think that might be true for some people—but not all.

Everyone thinks they are different or immune to whatever the warning is. I took pause here and evaluated.

I’ve always had good discipline when it came to food, drinks, and calories. I do realize that drugs and alcohol are a different story and their addictive qualities make that nearly impossible to control.

But I am not having the real thing, and there is nothing addictive to it.

I’ve always been okay with knockoff food versions. My Diet Coke is an example, but there’s so much more. I switched to skim milk in high school when I had money from a job and a car to buy the milk. We only had whole milk at home. Did it taste as good? No, of course not. But it was better for me and good enough. Now I prefer it. But I don’t even drink milk anymore—only almond milk. Another switch that wasn’t as good at first but is now my preference.

Same with sugar substitutes. I never minded SnackWell’s or those fake types of sweets. I prefer making them myself. Yes, like the beer, they taste a little different—but not much. These kinds of things satisfy me without the guilt, and over time I don’t even like the original anymore. The same has been true for me all my life—from milk to tofu over meat.

So in answer to the responses to my question in the Facebook recovery page, I did drink for the taste, and never has the fake version led me back to the real thing. When I switch, I switch for good.

It’s been a full year now since I dipped my toe into NA beverages. So far, I don’t feel any closer to a road to ruin. Do I miss wine? Not really. There are zero good substitutes for it, and in the face of that reality, I am not even interested.

I haven’t really gotten very into mocktails—for the same reasons I never did before with hard cocktails or hard alcohol. The calories don’t seem worth it.

The growth of NA beer is pretty astounding. It is available everywhere. The only place I haven’t come across it is in the Bahamas. But everywhere else I have been since, it’s readily available.

What makes it even more fun is the lack of too many options. There are one to three available choices, tops. So I get to try the one or three varieties and never feel like I’m missing out on the dozen more I could have tried, like I often felt with the real wine or beer I drank too much of.

The truth is I love to drink. I like lots of drinks. I love the taste of beer, and I can have that taste without the consequences. It’s a chance I was willing to take, and knock on wood, it’s been a gift.

Not for a second in the 20 months and counting now have I felt like I was missing out on a thing. I feel great, and I love my life. I love my life without alcohol.

Yeah.

How Change Works – In Honor of the Solstice

Posted on by Esterina Anderson

Lessons of Nature

Tonight is the longest night of the year in the Northern Hemisphere (so hopefully you have someone to snuggle up against to share it with!). Today officially starts winter. It sort of feels like we have been experiencing winter already. That means from this day on, the days get longer. One would think warmer times are ahead… right? But no—the coldest days are yet to come.

Similarly, around June 21st when summer begins, it feels like the solstice is nothing more than a formality—the summer has been around for a few weeks. But the truth is that it’s all only a perception. While we have had some cold days and even one snow (in Connecticut anyway), the truth of it all is that it hasn’t overall been that cold. Today my car showed it was in the 60s just to make this point.

My 19-year-old daughter’s birthday is in June. Most years, when planning her party, I had this crazy misconception that it would be warm during the planning phase of her parties. While some years it was, much to my dismay most of the time it was rather cold and rainy—and almost always too cold at night to keep any shorts or short sleeves on that one may or may not have worn during the day.

The lesson here is that even though things may look like something is happening (days getting longer from here, for example), there is a lag from the change and perception to when things really shake down, begin to happen, and take form.

The winter has only begun, but the days are actually getting longer [yay]. The heat from the longer sun will not be apparent until spring—and it won’t be felt at its maximum potential until after the summer solstice in SIX months from now, when the days will be technically getting shorter. What was a habit for longer will linger.

When we start new habits for a desired change such as losing weight, eating differently, or beginning a new routine, the effects will not take place until a long time after.

Does that mean we should quit and give up??? NO, No & no.

Like the sun providing longer days as of today, the toughest part is truly yet to come before reaping the benefits. Nature shows us this through seasonal changes.

This picture shows it well. The bigger arrow (perhaps depicting will for change) is fighting against all the old that is established. It’s a long, hard road to get past that fight. The only way this larger arrow can lose against all those smaller little ones is to give up and join them in the direction the will does not want to go.

Expecting to see a difference in the climate tomorrow or even next month is as unrealistic as eating well for a few days and expecting to fit into those old skinny jeans. One way to guarantee that you will never shimmy into those jeans is to defy natural laws—give up, order a pizza, and enjoy a six-pack just a week after starting. It just doesn’t work that way.

Change takes time. A lot of time. While the earth is tilting back toward the sun tomorrow, it will actually be colder and tougher for a while, weather-wise, before the benefits of that tilt take effect.

So enjoy the process… believe and trust in it. It’s really the ONLY way. Results are never immediate. Don’t give up. Keep your own light shining. And do what you need to do over and over to get the results you want. It’s the only way to reach your goals.

One day I will follow this advice too! Lol 😊
Happy 2018 Winter Solstice!
Namaste

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Hygge (Hoo Guh) & How I Plan to Embrace Winter this Year

Posted on by Esterina Anderson

I never heard this word until last week. I was starting to plan for the holidays and feeling really festive and excited—until my heart sank thinking about January and the rest of the winter.

I REALLY don’t like the winter. But it’s an inevitable part of life. If I’ve learned anything this year that is positively impacting my life, it is to enjoy the moment, whatever it is, as this too shall pass. Alan Watts wrote a book called This Is It. Meaning, as we are waiting for life to start or get better, we are actually wasting it—because the whole thing, the good, the bad, the ugly… the joys, sweat & tears… and even traffic is “it.”

I hardly noticed the winter until the year I was pregnant with Gabby. She was due in June, and around February I really started nesting. I had a paper calendar on the wall at the time (who didn’t in 1999?), and on the last day of February I excitedly turned the page and saw the beautiful spring picture for March. My heart filled with joy. I was so excited and ready for spring. I went to bed happily anticipating the coming months. But when I woke up, it was still freezing, dark, and wet. Weeks later, it was still freezing, dark, and wet. That same year, as the days turned darker and colder in October, I realized I am one of the thousands I had been hearing in the background who dislike what feels like the never-ending season of winter.

20 years later and I’m still a hater. I want that to change, or at least to accept it the way I can smile and catch myself from feeling grumpy during traffic. This is a totally new concept for me—to accept even a yucky present moment [most of the time anyway] and tell myself that this is really it. This is life. There is nothing else, and even this could be kind of enjoyable when I realize I’m alive and experiencing what exists in the spectrum of living experiences.

So I went to my best ally that I turn to for answers (Google, of course) and asked, “How to enjoy winter?”

Almost every search response turned up this word “Hygge,” pronounced “hoo-guh” (I personally like the way I was pronouncing it in my mind better, but that is neither here nor there). Apparently it’s a Danish word that loosely translates to coziness. The Danish are well known as one of the happiest cultures in the world, but also have one of the more harsh winters with a population of human settlers. What is their secret?

One can look on their own—I’m not going to go bonkers writing it all out—but the general concept is to embrace it, do all the things inside that you’ve been putting off, make time for friends no matter the weather, and indulge in winter foods, clothes, and warm beverages. Embracing it means hunkering down and getting cozy. Lots of candles, soft light, and blankets. Also, going outside every day for a bit no matter how dark or cold. Not only is the fresh air and movement of walking a benefit, but the contrast back into the cozy home makes it all the more sweet.

As I raked leaves at both of our homes this week, covered the stubborn little spring bulbs I recently planted that were poking up, and started to put away the outdoor summer items, I felt a sense of connection to the earth and, dare I say, even slight excitement toward this season for the first time ever.

Being prepared and doubling down on making my home cozier than ever felt right. I ordered non-holiday candles for my windows that I plan not to move until the sun starts to set at an earlier hour next year. I purchased battery-operated string lights for little places in the home near the potted plants I brought in from the outside for the winter for extra light and cheer. I hope to have a fire almost every evening (mental note: need to have the hubby show me how first), so I ordered a ton of firewood just for the occasion. AND I put it on the porch right outside the front door so it stays dry and seasoned—and it is close enough to not groan about having to trek anywhere else outside to get it.

What else?

I’m making a list of movies I’ve always wanted to see. Creating a pile of books to keep in the living room that I want to read this winter. I am putting together exciting crockpot, dessert, and soup recipes to try. I have a list of electronic things I never get to that I want to cross off my mental to-do list forever.

I also made a list of things to do on weeknights and weekends that aren’t as appealing in the warm months because the draw to be outside is so much greater. Some of those things are to use the sauna we have in the basement, cross-country ski (we have a trail within .2 miles from our front door), put together puzzles we bought and never touched, paint, write, color, knit, take online classes to get CEUs or just learn about something I’ve always wanted to know more about, go to plays and musicals at local theaters, visit museums, try new coffee shops…

Just writing it all out again makes me feel like the whole winter might not be enough time for all these great activities! Could it be that I can enjoy these months? I hope so! It still might not shake out to actually be enjoyable, but it absolutely won’t be if I don’t realize all the cool ways I could embrace and make the most of it. Fingers crossed.

If you are one of the many like me who dreads these months and found an idea or two here to make it more bearable—then this was worth the time to write and share.

Here is to embracing it all, because after all, this is it.

~Esterina

Welcome Winter

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My wood pile on the porch. This was taken only yesterday after moving a half cord of wood myself and then making a large tarp to keep it all warm & dry. I put kindling in flower pots. Today the scene is full of snow!
Now a day later.
Welcome Winter

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The Harvest Starts in the Mind

Posted on by Esterina Anderson

In the yoga classes I’ve taught this past week, the theme I have been focusing on is “The Harvest.” The chosen reason is the time of the year here in the Northern Hemisphere, especially where we live in New England. The purpose of this theme, however, is not about the crops we need to harvest before the first frost (which was last night), but all “seeds” and “harvests” for the future.

Not sure what it has to do with yoga? If you are still with me, please allow me to explain.

A seed is just a seed all by itself. A lettuce seed alone has nothing but the potential to become lettuce. If I plant lettuce seeds in the ground in the month of April (appropriate for our Connecticut hardiness zone), there is a decent chance it will grow lettuce. But if I plant a cucumber seed in April, it will absolutely not grow into lettuce, and there is a slim chance it will grow at all. Cucumber seeds can only thrive after the last frost. Hence, it would be best to plant them in mid-May for any hope of having a cucumber in August.

So far I have a seed, dirt, and weather that will hypothetically allow me to harvest cucumbers. Seeds, dirt, and weather are not that insanely different from the potential we have as humans to manifest goals or create the type of life we desire. In churches and other spiritual communities and texts, we will often hear the phrase “As above, so below.”

What does that mean? It means the physical world is not all that different from the mental and spiritual worlds. Even though we can’t see those other worlds, the laws of nature are consistent.

Like seeds, our thoughts are just thoughts alone. The properties of a thought will only bring forth that thought. If I’d like to lose 10 pounds, it’s only a thought or wish until I do something with it. Additionally, wishing it will not yield me a promotion or the improvement of a relationship that I’d like to enhance… obviously. With me so far?

Next, that thought is planted or “sown” in my mind. The mind is not so dissimilar to the soil that we plant our seeds in. The thought that I would like to lose 10 lbs in a mind racing with anxiety, wrought with depression, or full of a stressed-out “to do” list will only go into an abyss of other competing and negative thoughts. Similar to how planting a cucumber seed in sand, in the snow, or even in April—the mind’s condition would not be right to help a positive thought manifest into the raw potential it has.

This is where yoga comes in.

Yoga is not solely about moving around in different poses (or asanas). Yoga means to “yoke.” This sacred Sanskrit term is used to signify the connections between spirit, mind, and body. Whether we are moving through poses, meditating, chanting, doing breath work, etc., what we are really doing is creating a connection of our physical body to our mind and spirit—creating a sense of equilibrium between all three, which are really one beautifully operating unit. It’s difficult to have anxiety when the mind, body, and spirit are yoked in meditation or savasana (that last pose in most yoga classes where you actually enjoy laying around doing nothing for a few minutes).

When we are in balance, the mind is clear. When we sow thoughts in a clear mind, it is akin to planting seeds in proper conditions. When the mind is not clear, thoughts will still grow in murky conditions. These conditions often generate unwanted outcomes. For example, anxious thoughts will thrive and create even more anxiety in a busy mind. The mind is constantly creating whether we get involved with what is put in or not—analogous to how weeds will grow without involvement.

Yoga helps clear the mind through pointed focus and awareness. Focusing on breathing while mindfully moving from posture to posture in an average American yoga class (which is what comes to mind for most when they picture yoga) helps us to stay in the present moment and pay less attention to the wandering mind. When we are on the mat and feeling the slight shifts and sensations of our bodies, we are connecting our physical body with our inner selves. While sitting in a posture for a short while, if the body is relaxed and the mind wanders, it becomes very clear what is in there as thoughts arise.

A beautiful characteristic of yoga is that the habits we build on the mat will begin to stay with us off the mat.

A remarkable trait about thoughts is that you can change them.

If we don’t like what is coming up, we don’t have to actually keep thinking them. With a little practice of strengthening the mind, we are able to notice thoughts that aren’t aligned with the life we want and modify them.

Ignoring or changing unwanted thoughts and clearing our minds creates the proper soil and weather conditions to grow an aspired thought into reality. This will give us the boost to perform the last and third step of harvesting what we would like. That last step is the physical work.

If we plant cucumber seeds in mid-May and walk away… maybe we will have some cucumbers, but not likely. Chances increase if we ensure the seeds are properly watered, have the right amount of sun, and weeds are kept at bay—at least initially. As the season progresses and cucumber buddings begin to grow and get stronger, we still need to keep an eye on them, but weeds and unexacting sun and water levels are less likely to halt the progression of physical cucumbers.

We have to do the work. Once new habits are built and ingrained into our neural pathways and routines, less focus needs to be put on sustaining the desired result. Keeping 10 lbs off is easy with good habits because we essentially reap what we sow—physically and mentally. If you don’t have a crop harvest right now, it’s only because you didn’t plant seeds and nurture them in the spring.

The laws of nature as we know them work the same in the mind/spirit world.

Yoga helps us to create the harvest (albeit “life”) we want by cultivating a healthy mind-body-spirit connection. The take home—mind your thoughts, as they can and will create the life and harvest you have.

NAMASTE

 

On Lessons from the Garden

Posted on by Esterina Anderson

 

We have a fairly large personal garden at our home. There are flowers, shrubs, vegetables, trees, bushes, and fruit. I spend a lot of time in our garden during the warmer months, and for a while now I’ve been wanting to write about the thoughts that come to me when I’m out there.

The first time I spent a considerable amount of time weeding as an adult was at the condo I lived in in Naugatuck. It was a really small patch of dirt in front of the house, but I spent hours picking weeds and rocks from that little space that I “owned.” It was early spring, and I wasn’t sure what was going to come up out of the ground and what might be a weed.

It was incredibly therapeutic, and what I loved most was how easily my mind wandered while I worked. I remember thinking about how hard it can be to tell the difference between what belongs and what doesn’t—both in the garden and in life. I went out there many times over a few weeks, removing rocks, turning over the soil, planting seeds and flowers. That small garden took off, and from that point on, I only needed to go out occasionally to tend to it.

In my next house, we had much more land—and much more yard work. It became a weekly chore through the spring and summer. At first, it felt time-consuming and a bit overwhelming. I would go out, pull weeds, toss them aside, even out the mulch, then move on to trimming and mowing. But something would always happen once I got started.

As much as I dreaded it beforehand, once I was out there with my hands in the dirt, I could lose myself for hours. I would notice small changes from week to week, watch the worms, pull tiny weeds, dig up deep roots and old rocks. When I was finished, I loved sitting down with a book or a glass of wine and looking at everything from afar. The difference was always noticeable—not just in how it looked, but in how it felt.

Fast forward to my current home. When we moved here in 2012, Daren created a beautiful garden with multiple flower beds and a large vegetable area. I loved the idea of it, but it felt like too much. For the first few years, we barely kept up. We would go out once a month and tackle huge, overgrown weeds. The vegetable garden—the one we actually depended on—was full of them. No matter what we tried, they were always there.

When we finished, it looked better, but it didn’t feel good. I didn’t feel connected to it or proud of it. All I could see were the smaller weeds we hadn’t gotten to yet, and it felt like a constant reminder of something unfinished. It started to feel like a burden rather than something we had created.

Last summer, when I started working part-time, something shifted. I began going out into the garden once a week. At first, it was still a lot of work, but slowly, as I stayed consistent, things started to change. The big weeds became manageable, and the smaller ones were easier to stay ahead of. Eventually, I found a rhythm.

I began doing more than just weeding—smoothing out the mulch, trimming, rearranging rocks, cleaning the outdoor spaces. I started to care about the details again, and just like before, I found myself looking forward to it. When I stepped back and looked at the garden, it finally felt alive, like it was cared for and reflecting something back to me instead of weighing on me.

This year, I’ve been able to get out there even earlier. I know the space more intimately now. I know where the soil is thick, where the water collects, where the weeds tend to grow, and how to tell the difference between something I planted and something that doesn’t belong. To someone not paying attention, it all looks the same, but when you’re close to it regularly, the differences become obvious.

There are patterns in the garden that feel a lot like patterns in life. Everything starts from the same place—dirt. Something that seems so simple, but holds the potential for everything. If you plant something there, it will try to grow it. It doesn’t judge what you put into it; it just responds. What grows depends on what’s planted and how it’s tended.

If you don’t pay attention, you’ll get a mix of whatever shows up. Some of it might be beautiful, and some of it might take over everything else. Thoughts feel similar. What we focus on and give attention to are the things that grow. If we don’t notice what we’re planting or what’s taking root, it can become difficult to tell what belongs and what doesn’t.

Weeds can look a lot like the things we meant to grow, especially in the beginning, and if they’re not dealt with early, they spread. They compete for space, for energy, and for light, much like unresolved issues or habits that quietly take over when left unattended. But just like in the garden, none of this is personal. It’s not a failure; it’s simply how things work.

Weeds are inevitable, and the same is true for challenges in life. Growth requires both what we consider good and bad—sun, rain, wind—and those elements help everything become stronger over time. Tending to anything—really tending to it—takes time, attention, and a willingness to notice the details while also stepping back to see the bigger picture.

That might be the hardest part. We want a lot of things in life, but we can’t tend to everything. There’s only so much time, energy, and attention to go around. When we try to take on too much, the quality of all of it suffers.

I’ve seen that in my own life. Stepping back from full-time work and focusing on fewer things has allowed me to care for them more deeply. I see the details, feel more connected, and take more pride in what I’m doing. The garden reflects that.

The more time I spend in nature, the more connected I feel to it and to something quieter underneath everything else. There’s a kind of clarity that comes when you step away from noise and simply pay attention. The more I listen, the more it feels like the answers I’m looking for aren’t far away—they’re already here, if I slow down enough to notice them.

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On New Pathways

Posted on by Esterina Anderson

I don’t know if it’s because I turned 40 this year. Or because I started yoga teacher training. Or because I started taking Lexapro. Or a combination of those and other things, but I’m a person going through a transition. I’m sort of on a new path.

One of the many new things in my life that I’ve been taking advantage of is the new trail that was recently built between Jarvis and West Main Street in Cheshire. It’s not officially connected to Southington yet, but it’s walkable and no one tells you to get off. It’s not connected to Cornwall Street either, which would make it possible to stay on the trail all the way from Southington to New Haven, but the small road that connects West Main and Cornwall (Willow) is safe and short enough that it’s no problem to do the whole route without getting too far off the path.

It’s a new pathway. I ran on it for the first time about a month and a half ago. It was the same day I put on a Fitbit. Daren got one at a conference in Vancouver. He had it on his dresser for a few weeks until I asked if he was going to use it. He said no and that I could, so I put it on that morning and ran the 1.25 miles up to the new trail.

As soon as I stepped off my usual route, I felt a little scared and excited. I’d never really been off my usual path (A.K.A. rut), and the excitement of being on new territory without a car felt freeing. I turned the corner not really knowing how long it would take me to get to the trail. I knew it by car, but being on foot was so much different. It turned out not to be that far.

When I reached the entrance of the trail, standing there in the bright morning sunlight, it felt a bit magical. I stopped to take a picture of the new sign. I thought I might start walking once I got there, but I wasn’t tired yet and felt a strong desire to keep running.

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The path is flat compared to the hills in my neighborhood that I’m accustomed to. Sometimes those hills kick my butt and I need to stop and walk; other times I can push through them. The flatness felt novel and good. It felt like I could run forever.

 

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I ran further into the trail and saw the “Prom?” sign graffitied into the mountain. Where did that come from? Is it the Cheshire prom pose place? Did some romantic high school boy do that for a girl while the trail was being built? Who knows… but it’s kind of nice. It sits right across from a bench.

I stopped again, feeling the warm morning sunlight on my skin, wanting to soak it in. I ran further, breathing slowly—an old trick that sometimes works and sometimes doesn’t. That day, it worked. The slow breathing, warm sun, and shadowy trees created the perfect conditions. I continued down this new path without really knowing how far I’d go. I just knew I wanted to keep going.

Running water, green muck, benches, beautiful trees… it was all breathtaking. I felt so alive.

When I started to hear cars in the distance, I knew I was getting close to the end. And almost without warning, there it was—West Main Street. I had to stop and just take it in. I had never seen it from that perspective, out in the open without the protection of a car. Without that barrier, you feel everything more. The air, the smells, the heat. It was beautiful.

I turned around, now having a sense of how far I had gone.

 

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Again, I thought I’d get tired and walk. To my surprise, I never really did. Even when I got back to the hills, I pushed myself just a little further each time—one mailbox at a time—until I reached the top without stopping.

By the time I got home, I realized I had run farther than I ever had before. It wasn’t as hard as I thought it would be. And it was actually fun.

Over the next few weeks, I went back to the trail as often as I could. I walked it. I ran it. I explored parts that weren’t even officially open yet. I started combining new routes with old ones and found myself going farther and farther.

One Sunday after yoga training, I got on my bike and decided to ride the path alone. I hadn’t done that since I was a teenager. It felt both exciting and a little scary.

I rode faster than I expected and reached the end quickly, so I decided not to turn back right away. Instead, I went off the path to see if I could find my way to another entrance—without using a map. And I did.

That feeling of figuring it out on my own stayed with me. Not just physically, but mentally. I felt independent. Capable.

 

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This new path has opened up my world in so many ways. It helped me realize how strong I am, on foot and on a bike. It’s given me the ability to go places without a car. It’s connected me to different parts of town, to nature, and to myself.

And somewhere along the way, I started to see it as more than just a trail.

It felt like what was happening inside of me.

I began thinking about how we create new neural pathways in our brains—how change happens slowly, through repetition, through small shifts over time. Just like the trail being built piece by piece.

I’ve watched sections of it evolve day by day. And I realized—I’m doing the same thing.

Each day, one small change at a time, I’m creating new routes. Strengthening them. Making them deeper so they can eventually become the default instead of the old patterns and ruts.

As above, so below. Pathways are pretty amazing, whether in our minds or in the physical world.

It made me think about history—about when the Romans built roads and how that opened up the world. It created connection, trade, movement, possibility.

But roads can also wear out. Or lead somewhere you no longer want to go.

It happens in our minds too.

Creating a new path is work. It’s uncomfortable. It’s unknown. The old path is easier—it’s familiar, automatic.

But once you step off that old route and into something new, something shifts.

It’s exciting. A little scary. You’re more alert. More aware. You notice things you wouldn’t normally see because you’re no longer on autopilot.

And when you return to the old path, you see it differently. You start to recognize what still serves you—and what doesn’t.

Maybe it’s not about abandoning the old completely. Maybe it’s about keeping what’s good while creating something new.

That’s where growth happens.

New pathways—both mentally and physically—make life more exciting. They help us grow. They open up possibilities.

That sounds pretty good to me.

Thank you, Cheshire rails-to-trails project. It’s just one of many things changing in my world right now, and I wanted to honor it by sharing its beauty.

Love, Peace & Namaste.

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Abroad in Italy