Tag Archives: Gratitude

Warm from the inside out


I didn’t realize I’d forgotten what it’s like to be warm from the inside out.

It took a glorious getaway this past week to Southern California and Palm Springs for my nephew Neal’s wedding to Allie to remind me of the feeling.

I awoke a few mornings ago—in the comfy bed of my longtime friend Luanne’s peaceful guestroom in L.A’s San Fernando Valley—to the long-forgotten sensation.

I grew up in the Valley—but had somehow never been to Palm Springs (just a few hours east). There was no need to pursue more sunshine, heat and dips in a pool when we had all that right at home.

Let’s just say things have changed—dramatically.

Since moving to Seattle in 1994, I (along with all my fellow Emerald City residents) thoroughly appreciate when sunny skies and warm sunshine are in the forecast—especially this time of year. The long, dark winters and relentlessly gray skies can most definitely take their toll on everyone in the Pacific Northwest.

As I’ve grown older, I’ve also begun to notice that I get colder more easily—and really don’t like it. I’m starting to understand why so many aging seniors choose to retire to warm climates.

That’s why the feeling I awoke to the other morning was so incredible. As I lay there, I reflected on the many magical moments that unfolded over the past week.

The sunny skies and desert heat worked wonders on my body and spirit—but even more so did the abundance of joy-filled moments throughout the trip.


Celebrating Neal and Allie with those most special in their lives at the rehearsal dinner and welcome party the evening before the wedding.

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Giving myself the gift of time

Today, I celebrated another year of living on this precious and increasingly imperiled beautiful blue planet we all call home.

I happened to glance at the clock at 11:11—the moment I made my debut 58 years ago. I love it when that happens, and appreciate the fact that my arrival time was so incredibly symmetrical, numerically speaking. I’ve heard and read about the power of being associated with 11:11. The band Film School wrote a song with it in the title. I also once went to a numerologist who remarked positively upon the power of it. (I’m not sure what the significance really is, but am delighted that it’s part of my life’s story—along with the fact that I was only lefty in a home with seven right-handed siblings and two-right-handed parents.)

I eased into the morning, had a delicious and satisfying lunch of pho and always-fulfilling conversation with my sister—and then headed downtown for happy hour with a few former colleagues on the waterfront of Seattle’s Belltown neighborhood. All in all, a low-key but highly satisfying day.

I’ve just arrived back home after a rather long and crowded bus ride, alone in my quiet little house on my modest little street near the town of Woodinville, Washington. My phone has been dinging with notices of Facebook greetings and a few voicemail
messages. I’ve chosen to remain unplugged for the moment, but look forward to reading the wishes from friends and family near and afar. (It’s a definite positive on the social media front.)

On this June 2, 2017 birthday evening, I’m reflecting on the past, pondering the future—and feeling incredibly grateful for this life I’ve lived and all the love that surrounds me.

My birthday gift to me this month is time. I’m not going to rush into the next contract or pursue a position that doesn’t spark joy.

I’m going to take a break, regroup, renew, recharge, recover, return to the gym, write—and forge a new path for the next chapter in “The Life of Marcy O’Hara.”

It’s a gift that will pay dividends for the rest of my life—and the fact that I’ve realized that is making me feel older and wiser even as we speak.

(Happy birthday to me!)

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