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    <loc>https://pagemichele.com/blog/if-lost-listen-for-the-wind-amp-costa-ricans</loc>
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      <image:title>Blog - If Lost - Listen for the Wind &amp;amp; Costa Ricans - Make it stand out</image:title>
      <image:caption>Whatever it is, the way you tell your story online can make all the difference.</image:caption>
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      <image:title>Blog - How to Be Brave By Simply Changing Your Shoes</image:title>
      <image:caption>Some have nightmares of monsters, or killers, or war. My nightmares are of crows feet or creaking knees or silence. Still, I don’t fear the age of my body as much as the decay of my spirit. The start of ending, without having ever really begun. I promised myself when I graduated business college, I would never stop learning, stay a student forever. Six years into the cubicle life, I realize my vigor for change has started to wane.</image:caption>
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      <image:title>Blog - How to Be Brave By Simply Changing Your Shoes</image:title>
      <image:caption>Morgan, or should I say “MORGAN” is a bull about things. Barely giving me enough time to catch my breath and burst into tears she launches me back on my feet. Holding my hand she speaks through the red haze in my eyes and says “Push off your right foot, now your left.” We seesaw between feet, and I somehow stay upright despite now owning a pair of jello legs. Eventually I realize that contrary to popular opinion, I am not dying, and surprisingly my heart did not implode. I decide to be just wild and let her hand go, shakily pushing between right foot, left foot, right foot, left foot. This appears to be going well. The universe stabilizes. After about 20 minutes of staring at my feet, I start to really push the limits and look around. Now that I can look up, Morgan slowly shows me how to turn. More shock —</image:caption>
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    <lastmod>2021-02-17</lastmod>
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      <image:title>Blog - When Your Shoes Are Trying To Kill You</image:title>
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    <loc>https://pagemichele.com/blog/beach-musings</loc>
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    <lastmod>2021-02-12</lastmod>
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      <image:title>Blog - I’m Still the Girl with Sand on Her Feet</image:title>
      <image:caption>original story by Page Michele Kemp</image:caption>
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      <image:title>Blog - I’m Still the Girl with Sand on Her Feet</image:title>
      <image:caption>One foot follows the other until my feet touch the sea. Without warning, suddenly, and abruptly, I am hit inside with an unseen wave of relief, that is thankfully metaphorical rather than literal. The lush landscape stays hushed around me, as I quietly dig deep in my graveyard of buried things. The harsh chill of the endless winter, of years of being frustrated and anxious, disappointed and disappointing, building and breaking, begins melting under the heat of these warm feelings stretching out. As the water washes over my toes, it starts pulling, washing over the rusty memories, asking me to let it take a few. Some memories hurt as they leave, clawing and grasping to keep their hiding place. Some brush by in a burst of laugher, old days I had let fall to the wayside, now skipping up to remind me they just needed a good washing to be lovely and sparkling.</image:caption>
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