“There are a thousand ways to kneel and kiss the ground; there are a thousand ways to go home again.” ~Rumi


These are complicated times. We are bombarded with news of terror, violence, devastation, injustice, and suffering.

In order to make a difference, to help others, to change things, it’s important to stay whole. We can’t fight battles, tackle world problems, or be of service when we are worn down and depleted.

Growing up, my family owned land in rural Pennsylvania. I can still feel the excitement that washed over me when I heard my Dad tell us we were going “to the ground”. That was followed by nine people piling into a station wagon – without seat belts, air bags, or satellite radio.

We spent the drive looking out the window at the sights, not staring down at a cell phone. We sang songs, played games, and fought with each other when the ride was too long.

My Dad would find a billboard with a message we would memorize. Later in the day, if we could repeat the message, we’d be rewarded with candy, or coins, or Juicy Fruit gum. (I miss Juicy Fruit gum.)

The ground was a magical place. Lush, green forests dotted the landscape. Rollings hills were strewn with huge boulders that we could climb. And there was a sparkling, natural spring that ran through the center, complete with an old, workable pump.

It was Heaven.

To this day, when I’m overwhelmed with the status of the world, when my sunny outlook turns gloomy, when it gets too difficult to navigate – I go “to the ground”.

I find a patch of earth, a boulder on a mountain, or a rickety, wooden dock by a lake, and I plant my bottom there. I inhale huge gulps of sweet, fresh air, let go of all that weighs me down, talk to my Maker…and melt.

Going “to the ground”, humbles me, nourishes me, and reminds me of a higher power that reigns supreme. It calls to mind a simpler time before technology invaded us, overwhelmed our senses, and robbed us of innocence. It feels like a sacred space that holds the promise of justice, and peace, and purity, and equality, and safety, and love…within its core.

At the end of my ground going experience, I always look up at the sky and repeat the “burned in my memory” contents of a billboard that once stood on the edge of a country highway, in a small, rural Pennsylvania town…so many years ago.

I say it like a prayer.

Five-eighty-two, twenty-four-ten, Buddy’s Nursery. (Dad, I still remember…everything.)

Peace xo

Carole Rose

In life, there comes a time, when you will have to go digging.

You will dig for things in your past that shaped, changed, or hurt you. You will dig for things in your present that no longer serve you, that rob your energy or take pieces of your soul. You will dig for your beliefs, your spiritual self, and your place of belonging in this world.

You will find that you will want to put off the digging. It’s exhausting. It’s challenging. And it’s honestly – pretty painful. Even if you tried hard to view your life as a fairy tale – things happen, life gets messy, and hearts get bloody and broken.

But if you want to grow and truly grab hold of the experience of living…you  need to enter the portal to your past. And you need to find a way to heal the places where you got hurt.

I remember a time before I went digging. I referred to myself as the “old me” and the “new me”. I recall one of my beloved sisters asking why I did that, and telling me that there is no “old me” or “new me”. There is just “me”.

It was at that moment – that my digging began.

I surrounded myself with the past. I drank mugs of steaming, ginger tea, and I opened the sealed, dusty boxes that contained both joyful and painful pieces of days gone by. I listened to the Todd Rundgren, Dan Fogelberg, and Genesis albums that were hidden deep in my attic. And I allowed myself to revisit things I had buried.

As the old, familiar melodies reached my ears, and the old, forgotten treasures were held in my hands, I picked up my shovel…and began to move earth. And the “new me” allowed the “old me” to experience and deal with everything I had locked away.

Sometimes it takes words from a loved one to push you toward your healing work. And sometimes it happens when you’re surrounded by the stillness of nature, and it is quiet enough to hear the whisper of God.

Wherever or however it begins, when the shift occurs, you can feel your soul opening. There is a quickening around your heart. You will see a childhood friend, a lone tree in the snow, or a tattered, old love letter. And the walls you built that separate your past self from your present self, come tumbling down. The memories of days forgotten, come flooding back. And the “who you once were” meets the “who you are now”, and they smile at one another, and they share a well-needed hug, and they forgive each other, and they invite each other in, and they meld into one being…and they carry on together.

In that holy moment, you finally become who you always were, who you have always been, and who you always will be. And you finally understand the words to your favorite, Dan Fogelberg song – the one you listened to in the bedroom of your youth. And you let go of the hurt, make peace with the past, and give yourself permission to “Love when you can. Cry when you have to. Be who you must. It’s a part of the plan.”

Happy Digging. XO

Peace and Love,

Carole Rose


Have you ever laid eyes on someone, and felt an immediate connection?

It happened to me, at the grocery store, in the frozen waffle aisle. I saw the sweetest, little old woman. She exuded such a gentleness, and I couldn’t help but smile at her, as our carts passed. She returned the most beautiful smile, and the deep, crinkly lines that appeared, revealed she spent a lifetime smiling. She wore a pretty, flowered blouse, and had full make-up on – complete with lipstick and drawn on eye-brows.

I watched her stop to get a sample of yogurt, being given out. I heard her ask the store employee about the flavors, and when they were spouted off, the woman got so excited that her drawn on eye-brows raised even higher. At that moment, I decided that if I lived that long, I plan to be just as sweet, enthusiastic and appreciative of life.

I was tempted to approach her and tell her my thoughts. But lately I am dealing with lots of emotion and if I don’t wish to be crying around the clock, I’m keeping a tight lid on my feelings.

My Mom, my touchstone, my best friend, and the person that knows me to the depths of my soul, is suffering with dementia, and doesn’t know me anymore. There are so many things I want to tell her, and I can’t. My youngest son, is leaving for college in 2 days. This child has filled my life with such immense joy, from the time he fell from God’s lap into my arms, and I am thrilled for him. He’s getting his wings, and deserves to fly free, and to incredible heights. Still, the emotion is overwhelming, and I want my Mom.

I need my Mom.

I finished my shopping, loaded the groceries into my car, and was ready to drive away – when I saw the older woman speaking to another woman, parked next to her. I couldn’t tell whether the other woman was being helpful or not, but they were exchanging words. The other car pulled out of the parking space so quickly that she almost ran over the old woman.

I immediately got out of my car to see if the old woman was alright. She told me how rude the woman parked next to her was, and how she refused to give her time to put her groceries into her car. I told her how sorry I was, and how disappointing it is that some people are so unkind. And then I told her I noticed her in the store and, how it made my day to see someone whose sweetness reminded me of my Mom. I shared with her that my Mom had dementia. At that moment, she pulled me to her…and hugged me. I mean, she really hugged me.

The damn broke, the tears came, and still…she continued to hug me. She told me that God was taking care of my Mom, that she was safe, in her own world, and that she still loved me.

Today, I was reminded that in a sometimes bitter and hard to navigate through world, sweetness and gentleness exist…as do angels. I met a beautiful one, in the frozen, waffle aisle, and I believe I know who sent her.

Thank you, Mom. I love you.

“In your light I learn how to love. In your beauty, how to make poems. You dance inside my chest where no one sees you, but sometimes I do and that sight becomes this art.” ~ Rumi

The ones who make life worth living.
The ones who light you up.
The ones who remind you of your purpose.
The ones who stir your soul.
The ones who inspire you.
The ones who make the bad go away.
The ones who bring the fun.
The ones who calm your nerves.
The ones who stop your sadness.
The ones who hold you when you’re lonely.
The ones who give meaning to everything.
The ones who churn your passion.
The ones who heal your wounds.
The ones you love with all that you are.
The ones who “dance inside your chest” and dwell inside your heart.
Never let them go…

Peace and Loveaa26