Gratitude for Roots

“Root down to rise up” is a phrase you may hear in a yoga class and a cue I often use when guiding students into tadasana (mountain pose). When I think about the importance of roots in creating a strong foundation, my mind turns to my own roots – those provided by my family and friends who have helped shape who I am today.

I’m grateful to my parents, who, despite being young when raising my brother and me, gave us a childhood of abundance. We were surrounded by aunts, uncles, cousins, and grandparents who loved us, and we were always guaranteed plenty of toys and, of course, pets.

I learned the value of hard work from my Dad and amazing strength from my Mom. My Grandma, with whom we spent many weekends watching Red Sox games and making pancakes, had a fierceness and independence that, to this day, give me the extra push I need whenever I’m faced with something challenging.

There is a picture of me as a child. I couldn’t have been older than three at the time, walking well behind the rest of the family, strutting my stuff without a care in the world. That photo always reminds me of the independent little girl I was…not afraid of anything.

I’m my father’s daughter. As a kid, I was always tagging along behind him, barefoot because he was, not worrying about the occasional pain from a sharp rock as I walked outside. I climbed trees, rode snowmobiles and three-wheelers (yes, I grew up in a time before these ATVs were deemed too dangerous), built forts, and spent a lot of time in the woods. Like my father, I can’t sit still and do most things for myself (sometimes with a quick call to Dad to make sure I’m on the right track).

Our parents encouraged us to do our best in whatever we chose to pursue and to follow our dreams, even when it meant moving 2,000 miles away, as I did in 2005. When I realized I needed a change, my belief that I could do anything gave me the courage to pack up and move west, where I didn’t know a soul, and start a new life in Colorado.

When I first moved into my home in Colorado, I bought all the necessary tools and equipment to run my household with little help from anyone else. I painted two rooms (including a horrible popcorn ceiling) by myself. I handled minor maintenance and upgrades around the house, and maintained my own yard for the first few years. Then I got busy. The typical household chores and yard maintenance lost their novelty, and I outsourced those activities for the most part. Somewhere along the way, it became easier to call someone than to spend the extra time doing things myself.

My brother, Keith, has inspired me more than he knows. He left a job that didn’t inspire him to start his own business, CritterGear, which has been tremendously successful, not to mention making my pets quite stylish. Keith somehow manages to run his business (for which he still makes most of the product), care for his many dogs, maintain a beautiful home, and grow abundant gardens and fruit trees.

Then there are my friends – those fun-loving, big-hearted people who have loved and supported me without judgment through good times and bad. It’s always a special treat to spend time with people who have known me for so long. Our lives have moved in different directions (we’re spread across the country from the East Coast to the West Coast, and I’m the only one without human children), but we never fail to pick up right where we left off and have an amazing time together. We’ve laughed, cried, spent hours in conversation, traveled, and shared many memorable moments. We still call ourselves “girls” even as we inch closer to 50, because we've been friends since we were girls. I joined this friend group in high school, but the others have known each other even longer. Our friendship has remained strong throughout the decades. Being with them (no matter where we meet) is home to me. They are as essential to me as the breath in my lungs and the blood in my veins. I only hope they all know how much they mean to me.

My family and friends, and even New Hampshire itself (which requires a certain degree of tenacity to live in), are my roots – my lifeline. I’m still the New Hampshire girl who can roll with the punches and stand on my own two feet through whatever life throws at me. Take a few moments to reflect on the people you’re grateful for, and never lose touch with your roots.