Write with Author NJ Miller

  When I want to relax, I like to think about my breath. My breathing is so automatic I don’t even notice it although I would definitely notice if I quit breathing. When I focus on my breath to relax, I pay attention to my inhale to make sure I am breathing deeply while expanding my belly. When I need to relax from busyness or stress, I often breath too shallow not allowing enough to get in my lungs.  When I exhale purposefully, I can imagine my breath being a color. I can think about all of the things I don’t want in my mind being eliminated as I exhale. I breathe in new energy. I like to see energy as blue like the movement of the ocean. When I want to relax, I often think about places I have been or things I have seen that were beautiful and relaxing. We have a rose garden in the park near my home. When I stop and notice the light on the pink, white, and red petals, it takes my mind off of whatever might be stressing me even if only for a few moments. When I was anticipatin...

I always loved kayaking because I could glide along with my hand in the rippling water. Swiftly moving through the water close enough to touch it while feeling the breeze glancing across my face. Then coming home and taking a dip in the pool. A trip to our favorite beach house. We watched the sun set against the dark gray ocean. The roiling sea waved good night as the cold breeze told us it was time to find warmth, sip wine, and play a friendly game. A love gained. A love lost and with it the fond memories of things I loved to do. New memories of things I love to do fill my heart. A trip to Europe with my daughters store colorful memories of see the Icelandic ocean from a yacht, and London from the top of a two-story bus. The science of Dr. Who with my grandson and crafting with my granddaughter brighten neurons as old memories begin to fade. Trips to Colorado and heartfelt conversations over coffee fill me with things I love to do.

Sitting at a patio table, my hair swishing in the breeze, I look out across the blue sea and watch the yellow orb sinking into the ocean. I take a bite of rich salmon melting in my mouth followed by a sweet potato fry seasoned with salty air. My favorite place to eat my favorite food is by the water. I can conjure up an image of enjoying flaky white fish while feeling the energy of the roiling morning ocean waves a cup of coffee in hand. I can enjoy my favorite foods anytime and anyplace, but I cherish the moments when I enjoy fish by the sea. From past memories I can create visions of pleasure filling my imagination. Ah! The dark chocolate that possibly wouldn’t sustain me but definitely one of my favorite foods. I can imagine living on different forms of chocolate for a lifetime, but then I see images of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory and what happens when too much is just too much. I might float up and burst from too much chocolate. Chocolate is delicious on its own or covering f...

 

On being normal There is a look and sound that is considered normal by many. Look in the mirror. Do you have it? What color is your face? Is it free of blemishes, is your hair the normal range of straight to curly, are your clothes agreeable within the normal range of style, fit, and cleanliness? Speak a sentence. Are you in the normal range of the English language with no accent? If so, you probably look normal. But what’s inside all of that?   There are many ways to miss the normal mark on the inside. Maybe you are not in the normal range of seeing or hearing. In fact, normal can be measured, quantified, and diagnosed. You might look normal on the outside until you don’t speak normally, don’t respond to others, trip over something obvious, not recognize someone, or you don’t converse about normal activities.  You could look normal on the outside but think very differently. Thinking differently can cause you to miss important learning at school as with different hearing or se...

I raised my rifle in ready for the perfect shot. The deer stood tall with majestic antlers raised high. I’m not sure why I was hesitating. I prepared well for this moment. It was my day to make my father proud. We spent hours shooting at targets that looked like deer heads finding the precise spot for a kill shot. I remember admiring the deer heads my father proudly mounted on the walls in the cabin away from my mothers tender eyes. My father had finally taken me hunting while my brother laughingly shouted a girl would never be able to shoot a deer. Here I was in my moment of glory, ready to take the shot when I heard a boom followed by a thump on the ground. I looked up and the deer was gone. With fearful eyes, I saw huge man walking toward me. Then he stopped near where I had seen the deer. He reached to the ground and picked up the limp dead animal with his gloved hands and tossed into a giant bag at his feet. He threw the bag over his shoulder and walked away. I knew I should be th...