Healing is Lonely Business ❤️‍🩹

A fall and a broken ankle 😩

Volume 3, Issue 21
Full Moon in Gemini 🌝 ♊
Sun in Sagittarius ☀️ ♐

Full Moon Greetings, dear Friends❣️

Sending warmth and gratitude for your presence here.

As the season continues its slow descent into winter, I’ve been thinking a lot about what our bodies try to tell us long before our minds are ready to listen. This month’s reflection picks up where my last Lunar Almanac entry left off. A continuation of learning to trust the wisdom that speaks through sensation, limits, and unexpected interruption. I hope these words meet you gently, wherever you are in your own rhythms of slowing down.

This is a follow-up to my last Lunar Almanac Newsletter, Following the Clues of My Body’s Wisdom, posted on the new moon in Scorpio.

The very next day after that new moon, I slipped and fell while walking to work and broke my right ankle (a distal fibula closed fracture). There’s a notoriously slippery spot on the ironically anti-slip pavers leading into the crosswalk in front of a parking garage, just after descending from a train overpass. I’ve slipped there many times and always managed to catch myself, aside from one previous fall that mercifully only landed me on my butt.

But that morning around 9 a.m., listening to music and trotting along, not paying full attention, my right foot slid out from under me. The instant my body fell, and my right leg contorted, I knew something was very wrong. I grabbed the tea thermos I dropped and scooted myself out of the crosswalk and onto the bridge sidewalk. Standing wasn’t an option. The pain in my foot and ankle was too sharp. I was directly across from University Hospital’s main campus. I could even see the ER from where I sat. For a moment, I wondered if I could scoot myself all the way there on my butt.

In my 56 years of living in this body, I’ve never broken a bone. I sat there wincing while friendly university students stopped to help. Many commiserated about that same slippery spot they, too, had nearly fallen on. A small group called EMS and stayed with me until help arrived. Humanity was so good to me that day—a needed reminder that people still care in what often feels like an individualistic world.

I never made it to work, of course, but I was home by 3 p.m. after hours of imaging and testing in the ER. The doctors agreed I didn’t need surgery and sent me home in a removable walking boot with three simple instructions: put weight on the ankle as tolerated, take OTC pain relievers, and follow up with orthopedics in two weeks. That’s it?

Two weeks have now passed, and my follow-up isn’t until next Friday, three full weeks after the injury. I still feel a bit in the dark about how severe this fracture actually is. Sleeping with the boot is difficult, so I take it off at night and remove it during the day when elevating and icing. Other than that, I’m relying entirely on instinct and sensation, hoping I’m not making things worse.

As I waited for EMS with those kind students, a flash of the future crossed my mind. My body, while still strong, felt painfully vulnerable. How different would this fall be at 66 instead of 56? Surrounded by twenty-year-olds, I felt fragile for the first time in a way that truly frightened me.

Though this was an accident, I can’t help thinking about how to better protect myself as I move through the world. I have big dreams of walking the Camino de Santiago before I turn 60, and of hiking parts of the Appalachian Trail, the Pacific Crest Trail, and the Continental Divide Trail in retirement. When I heal, I plan to strengthen and stabilize my entire body. I was already on this path while recovering from pelvic instability and sciatic pain.

I miss walking more than anything. If you know me, you know how central walking is to my life. I walk for transportation, for my mental and physical health, for problem-solving, and for creative inspiration. I walk simply to breathe fresh air and admire neighborhood gardens. Walking is the most instinctive human movement, and we were designed for it. The idea of feeling uneasy walking through winter, after falling on a damp crosswalk, breaks my heart a little. How will I survive without long walks until spring?

Still, I’m keeping my body moving. I can do a surprising amount of floor-based exercise and continue my physical therapy routine. I’m adding strength work for my pelvis and core, and I’m deeply grateful for the movement wisdom I’ve gained from Yoga, Pilates, Tai Chi, and Qigong. These practices have become companions in this new healing journey.

Healing, though, is lonely business. It’s overwhelming to imagine the long road from this moment with a fractured ankle and a walking boot, back to full well-being. No one else can do this for me. Winter has arrived early in Cleveland, with snow on the ground and slick roads keeping me mostly inside. I am homebound for now, and I have mixed feelings about that.

Thankfully, I’m supported. My strong, loyal husband helps me as needed. My workplace has allowed me to work from home indefinitely while healing. And even though I haven’t broadcast my injury (until now), many people have reached out with care. I’m still able to attend the Orchestra thanks to accessible seating and door drop-off. I can walk slowly and carefully in the boot. My life hasn’t stopped; it has simply shifted again into a new rhythm.

This injury has also stirred old memories of grief. When Sierra died, the outpouring of love slowly faded as others returned to their lives, while my grief remained steady and consuming. I didn’t want to let go of my only daughter. I didn’t want to move on. I carried that sadness mostly alone in my own way, and I still do three years later. This healing journey is different, of course, but it echoes that same sense of walking a path only I can walk.

There is loss here too—loss of independence, of freedom, of movement. This will require grace and a great deal of patience.

In my last post, I reflected on slowing down while healing from sciatica. I never imagined slowing down to an almost complete stop. I am moving at the pace of this walking boot, as slow as it requires, and spending most of my days in the comfort of home, likely through the end of the year, if not longer.

As I settle into this season of stillness and physical healing, I’m reminding myself that healing is its own kind of pilgrimage. One that unfolds step by step, whether or not the body is moving.

I’d love to know: How is your body asking you to slow down or listen more closely this season? Have you ever had an injury or illness that stopped you in your tracks unexpectedly? Your reflections are always welcome.

Let the healing—and the hibernation—begin.

With kindness and care,
Jennifer 💫💖💫

Micro Mindfulness Practice for Healing ❤️‍🩹

Take a comfortable seat or rest wherever you are. Allow your body to settle, and let your hands rest softly in your lap.

Arrive in the Body
Close your eyes if that feels safe.
Take a slow breath in through your nose, and let a long breath out through your mouth.
Feel the weight of your body supported beneath you. Notice where you’re held.

Soften Into the Present Moment
Let your shoulders drop.
Relax your jaw.
Allow your belly to soften.
With each exhale, gently release a layer of tension or effort.
There is nothing you need to fix right now. Nothing to achieve.
Just this moment, just this breath.

Invite Healing
Bring your attention to the area of your body, mind, or heart that needs care.
You don’t need to force anything—simply acknowledge the place that feels tender.
Imagine your breath flowing toward it, as though each inhale delivers warmth, spaciousness, and nourishment.
With each exhale, imagine releasing strain, worry, or tightness around that area.

Offer Kindness to Yourself
Silently repeat:
May I heal in my own time.
May I soften into what my body knows.
May I be patient and gentle with myself.

Close With a Breath
Take one more slow inhale…
And a long, easy exhale.
When you’re ready, open your eyes or lift your gaze, returning to your day with a little more spaciousness and care.

The Planets🪐

Full moon in Gemini on December 4, 2025 🌝 ♊
Neptune retrograde in Pisces ♓ stations direct ➡️ on December 10, 2025
Waning half moon in Virgo on December 10, 2025 🌗 ♍
Mercury in Scorpio moves into Sagittarius on December 11, 2025 ♏ ➡️ ♐
Mars in Sagittarius moves into Capricorn on December 15, 2025 ♐ ➡️ ♑
New Moon in Sagittarius on December 19, 2025 🌚 ♐
Winter Solstice on December 21, 2025 🌞❄️
Sun in Sagittarius moves into Capricorn on December 21, 2025 ♐ ➡️ ♑
Venus in Sagittarius moves into Capricorn on December 24, 2025 ♐ ➡️ ♑
Waxing half moon in Aries on December 27, 2025 🌓 ♈

🌄 Sunrise today in Cleveland is at 7:36 am
🌇 Sunset today in Cleveland at 4:56 pm

Affirmations for the Full Moon in Gemini: Under this Full Moon in Gemini, I affirm my commitment to honoring the wisdom my body offers me, trusting its signals as guides rather than inconveniences. I affirm my ability to heal in my own time, allowing rest, tenderness, and patience to shape my path forward. I affirm that every sensation—whether soft or sharp—invites me into deeper awareness, reminding me that healing is a conversation between my mind, my heart, and the body that carries me.

Changes to My Current Meditation Offerings 💚

I’m excited to share some updates about my meditation offerings! I’m thrilled to include my entire meditation practice library on YouTube as a special bonus for my paid subscribers of Tides of Being on Substack. To celebrate, I’m offering free meditation livestreams every Monday.

🔥 Tides of Being Paid Subscribers Update
When you choose to support Tides of Being as a paid subscriber, you step into the inner circle of practice — a deeper current of connection and presence.
✔️ Full access to my private meditation library on YouTube (100+ practices for every season of your soul)
✔️ The quiet joy of sustaining independent, heart-led creative work

Your support helps me continue creating meaningful, soulful content and affirms the belief that mindful voices matter.

💲 Updated pricing takes effect November 1, 2025. Current paid subscribers will continue paying the same rate. The new prices will not affect your current subscription cost.

✨ Tides of Being Paid Subscriptions: $108/year or $12/month
Through December 31, 2025, yearly subscriptions are 40% off.

Free Weekly Meditation Livestreams on Substack: November 10 – December 22, 2025
To celebrate my new paid subscription offerings, join me for the next seven Mondays at 7:30 PM ET for free livestream meditations right here on Substack. We will practice together each Monday as we approach the longest night of the year, Yule – The Winter Solstice

Join the circle❣️
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My writing will always be open to those who need it. Come as you are. 🌸

🔥 Paid Subscribers Receive:
When you choose to support Tides of Being as a paid subscriber, you step into the inner circle of practice — a deeper current of connection and presence.
✔️ Full access to my private meditation library on YouTube (100+ practices for every season of your soul)
✔️ The quiet joy of sustaining independent, heart-led creative work

Your support helps me continue creating meaningful, soulful content and affirms the belief that mindful voices matter.

✨ Paid Subscriptions: $108/year or $12/month
Through December 31, 2025, yearly subscriptions are 40% off.

Join the circle❣️
Become part of a growing community of women remembering how to slow down, live, create, and awaken — together. 🌿