Tag Archives: lovemore

JAMIE’S BLOG – YEAR 6 – YOGA DAY 158 :: reflecting on love

12 Jun

Day 158: Love on.

This is all I have to say. No words. Just pictures.
Because a picture is worth a thousand words.

Love on.

More tomorrow.

{love matters}

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JAMIE’S BLOG – DAY 280 :: fearless help

12 Oct
Today’s Bliss…..moving in.

It’s our first night in our new state of being. New place. New state.

And I couldn’t have done it without so much help. From friends and family and a few people in between. Asking for help isn’t always easy for me… It feels like towing a blurry line between being too needy and too whiny, of which I hate to be either. And yet, it feels so incredibly good to have support.

And that reminds me of this:
My friend Diane loves four letter words. It’s a game she plays. And tonight I’m reflecting on the four letters that spell H.E.L.P. Asking for help isn’t always easy, but it makes my life so much easier.

So tonight, I’m reminded that there’s a bit of love and bit of fearlessness in both giving and accepting assistance. And maybe that’s partly what bliss is made of?

So thank you – friends and family – you know who you are.

And I love you dearly.
Lovemore. Fearless.

More tomorrow.


JAMIE’S BLOG – DAY 65 :: spring is springing

6 Mar
We have raspberry leaves growing. It’s almost a miracle, yet again, they return!
So on this Friday night I’m just sharing a little hope.

And a good sign that spring is coming.

More tomorrow.
Lovemore, do more.

  {what’s your favorite season?}

JAMIE’S BLOG – DAY 261 :: extraordinary love note #3, carpe diem

19 Sep

I remember the movie Dead Poets Society, mostly for two words. Carpe. Diem.

Those two words couldn’t have come at a better time in my life. They were like a gift really. As I believe words can be when given from the heart.

I also believe words can be medicine too.  And so it was that I was given “Carpe Diem” to help me through a teenage cancer diagnosis.

Seize the day. I have carried it with me ever since.

It seemed so profound at age seventeen when everything was on the line and high school came with high drama …SAT’s, college exams, choosing the right school, making the right decision, first dates, first kiss, first boyfriend, first leap into adulthood.

Seize the day.

It became a mantra and mandate when going through treatments, losing my hair, losing my teenage dreams, grasping for some assemblance of being “normal” in a sea of doctors, needles, nurses and radiation.

Seize the day.

It’s amazing that a phrase could mean even more at age forty, post mastectomy and reconstructive surgery. Living with the realization that I am one of the lucky ones.

Seize the day.

It caught me off guard today. I woke up and watched Pup limp across the room. His normal gallop turned to a slow, drawn out slide with his right leg. He’s been babying it all day, sometimes moving with ease and sometimes limping along like an old man. He is 91 in human years.

There’s nothing like watching my aging companion, the dog that sits by my side, my co-worker during the day, my cuddle buddy at night while watching TV, take on a limp. It makes me appreciate seizing the day even more than any of my own reasons.

And that makes this woman think that maybe that’s why they call a dog “man’s best friend.” I know Pup will lick his wounds and trot into another day, probably by tomorrow, or maybe even tonight if there is a treat involved.

But it makes me hear very clearly that clock that is always ticking. The one I try to ignore, the one that won’t go away.

And all I can yell back is “Carpe! Diem!”
Because this is, afterall, a love note.

More tomorrow.


 {seize the day}

Jamie’s BLOG – DAY 190 :: halfway through peak performance

7 Jul

It’s funny how this promise thing works.

My first year of writing this blog and making a 365-day promise led me straight into a spiral of spiritual awakening. I thought I just signed up for a year of not shopping. Instead what actually unfolded was pure material magic, and mayhem on my diet, and in the end I discovered love. Pure love. The kind that sugar cannot buy.

It has continued that way each year. I THINK and I truly BELIEVE I am signing up for something so well planned out and conceived of the utmost brilliance. Then the year unfolds and I find that there was another plan in place by someone else — call it God, The Universe, The Divine, Higher Self, What Have You — “IT” has always thrown something else my way that I needed to learn, do, experience (lovemore-fearless!), have, hold, or give up in the case of my thyroid (abundance!).

This year is no different. I would have thought by now, in my year of peak performance, I would have already conquered marathons if not mountains in a single bound. It turns out I am stretching my breast tissue and preparing for another surgery for double mounds.

Isn’t it ironic. Don’t you think?

The year is only half over. One surgery down, one more to go. And there is still so much to unfold. There will be more twists and turns in this journey of peak performance, of that I am sure. Where it will take me, I do not know.

But in the process I am reminded that life is beautiful. And to that I share what has already unfolded for me:

Enjoy simple beauty, pause right now.

More tomorrow.

{how is your year unfolding?}

Jamie’s BLOG – DAY 151 :: i’ll give you 4 guesses…

31 May

Can you figure out what I did today?

More tomorrow.

{recipe tomorrow}

2014 BLOG – DAY 56 :: return of the creepy crawlies

25 Feb

The phantom spider is gone. 

I spotted it in the kitchen today at high noon. Just as Justin walked into the kitchen I looked up and pointed.

“See!!” I was ecstatic. “There it is. The spider!”

I felt like I had won a game of hide and seek. Actually, I felt sane. Like I hadn’t been imagining a huge, black spider that only crawled on the kitchen walls just for me.

“Ah, do you want to play with it?” Justin asked as he reached up to grab it.

“No!” I screamed.

“I thought you liked spiders now.” Justin smiled as he whisked the spider off the wall and it fell into Brady’s dog crate. Now we had to try to find a black spider in a black metal dog crate.

Justin tipped the crate from side to side looking for the fuzzy, black thing. Brady ran around in circles, expecting something very exciting to happen. We had, after all, invaded his space.

Justin finally spotted the spider, clinging to one of the metal bars of the crate and scooped it up in a napkin. He then walked outside and release the poor little spider (Did I say little? It was huge).

If you’re keeping score, here’s the standings:
Spider = 1
Jamie = 0
Brady = best. day. ever.
Justin = my hero.

As for peak performance?
None for me today.

More tomorrow.
Lovemore {fearless}

{what’s haunting you?}

BLOG – GIFT DAY 255 :: hanging on the words lovemore fearless

14 Sep

A HUGE box arrived today. 

The dogs went berserk, barking incessantly during my nap. I rose from the bed and wobbled to the door to find a FEDEX delivery man…

And a VERY large box.
It was almost 6 feet long and 4 inches wide. Tall and thin. What could be in it?

It was flat and light. 
What could be tucked inside this box?

I looked at the label and read that it was indeed addressed to me from Kelley Holub. The boxed traveled all the way from East Coast to West Coast.

What could it be? 
When Justin arrived home we opened it together and gently released the contents inside.

It was a sign.

The sign is almost as large as my turquoise dresser. And each letter is made out of upholstery nails. 

And of course I LOVE IT!

Thank you dear Kelley. It has already been hung on the wall behind my desk (thank you Justin!).

A blank wall that was just waiting for something special.

I really don’t know what to say, other thank THANK YOU from the bottom of my cup runneth over heart.

I love this reminder that will hang over my desk (and head) every single day.

It has me thinking…
What do you love?
Where can you fear less?

More tomorrow.
Lovemore {fearless}

{what do you love?}

BLOG – GIFT DAY 177 :: celebrating rights

26 Jun

Big day in the world. When in college, in the middle of a women’s studies class, it occurred to me that all the fear about gay marriage would someday seem as ridiculous as not allowing some people to vote or use a certain bathroom based on the color of their skin.

It felt inevitable. Love would win out, someday, somehow.

For me, at least, it all seemed so ridiculous . . . I mean, really, we have bigger issues in the world to tackle than figuring out who can marry whom. Like how about the economy, rising ocean tides, global warming, hunger, healing our communities, clean water, taking care of our littlest ones and our oldest ones … choose an issue because the list goes on and on.

Today, I woke up and realized, maybe that day has come.

I am reassured that domestic rights can be shared. I am hopeful that people of all walks of life can make the choices and share the things they want to share with the person they choose.

My celebration comes from a place of love for all of us — that we all have access to our dreams, our passions, our desires, our wildest adventures, our biggest wins, our most amazing performances, our incredible ideas that we turn into unforgettable, unique expressions of self — and we get to share it all with the person we love most.

And then get back to solving the big problems of the world.

More tomorrow.

Lovemore {fearless}

BLOG – GIFT DAY 176 :: a funny, good, brave life

25 Jun

I returned home today, to this: 
Justin swears that PUP was the one who wrote “Welcome Home” on the front step and picked the flowers and put them in water.

But, I know it was him. 

And, it was reassuring to come home to a place where I know I am loved and cared for. I can’t help but count my blessings — my ironic-how-can-this-happen-again blessings.

I mean, what are the odds of falling in love twice with the same person (twenty years later!). And, then, what are the odds of having that same person hold your hand through surgery with the big “C” hanging over your head.


Looks like we are in to break some records, or at least, beat those odds.

Yesterday, while meeting my new doctor in Oregon, I found myself playing the same patient role I remember so well — which involves me cracking jokes, being sarcastic and making light of all this serious stuff.

I can’t help myself. It’s like a reflex. 
I get all amped up and nervous and turn into some sort of terrible stand-up comic.

When my doctor first walked in the room she said, “Oh my goodness, you look like Gwyneth Paltrow!”

I rolled my eyes and laughed and made a joke. “I don’t mind, as long as she never does anything stupid, it’s a complement.”

And that’s when the jokes started vomiting out of my mouth. It’s my go-to coping mechanism. Like I said, I can’t help it.

My doctor walked me through the potential side effects of my upcoming surgery, including the potential damage to vocal cords which could lead to a raspy voice.

“You mean I could come out more sexy?” I raised my eyebrows with a grin.

She laughed, a kind, doctor type of sympathetic laugh, and said, “Never heard it put that way before.”

Then she turned on the machine next to me and began walking me through the ultrasound images of my thyroid nodules — the cave-like images on the screen.

“Now we turn on the doppler like images” she said as she showed me the bright, blinking red spots that indicate where blood and heat flow.

“Oh, look, it’s raining over Boston!” I exclaimed in my best weatherman voice.”

She laughed.
I immediately regretted it.

I then started wondering… what is wrong with me. “Shut up, already, Jamie!” my mind kept telling me. But the jokes didn’t stop there.

As she walked me through the rest of the side effects and her personal statistics from over 3,000 surgeries I dead panned, “You know, I write a daily blog, so this will be covered. No pressure.”

And then the reasonable voice inside my head scolded “Jamie. Just. Stop. Talking.”

Eventually, we got to the part where she asked me for a run down of my medical history. As I described the events of my life, the cancer, the surgeries, the treatments, et. al., she stopped writing notes and looked up at me.

“You were a very brave teenager and you are a very brave woman, Jamie.”

It took me off-guard. And I didn’t have any jokes left in me because I knew, somewhere inside my seventeen year-old heart and my thirty-nine year old brain that she is right.

I am brave. I have been brave. But it’s never been my choice. 

It seems to me that a brave soul would be the firefighter who runs into the flames to save someone else — because somewhere along the line it was their choice. A brave soul, it seems to me, is the one that had another option. And that, I have never known.

It is this unique “country club” as my doctor put it — that I belong to. The one where you don’t ask for permission to play, the one no one wants to belong to in the first place. But it’s mine. And, hey, if she wants to call me brave, I’ll take it. I’ll wear it as a badge of honor — because, really, we all should.

For whatever “country club” it may be that we accidentally joined.

I happen to be in the one that has “atypical cells, visible lumps, and childhood radiation.” It puts me in a club that has a 50% chance of thyroid cancer.

And that reminds me…
I once, not that long ago, had someone very close to me tell me that I had a “bad life” — seriously, I quote, those were her words. They were very hurtful, but now, in retrospect, I’m glad she said it.

Her words, as hurtful as they were, have made me realize I have had a great life, a fabulous journey, with some obvious bumps in the road.

But, don’t we all.

Because, that is, after all, LIFE as we know it. The good, the fabulous, the incredible — and a few lumps along the way.

So maybe I belong in a club of people who don’t have any other choice but to have surgery, and to deal with the genetic cells and cards they were dealt.

But that reminds me of another country club I belong to — the one where you fall in love with a boy, he holds your hand through cancer treatments at age seventeen and then he finds you again twenty years later only to hold your hand again — and carve pink hearts out of chalk on your front doorstep.

And, that’s a pretty brave thing to do.
No joke.
LOVEMORE. Fearless. For sure.

More tomorrow.

{thanks for your prayers – I feel, love, and appreciate you.}
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