What if you are perfect this very second?

What if how you show up in the world, at any given moment, is exactly how you’re supposed to show up?

Those words you spoke that you now regret?
Those are the words you needed to say at that moment.

That issue that keeps coming up?
It’s on purpose; that’s your current curriculum.

That situation you think you could have handled so much better?
That was exactly how it was supposed to go down.

The truth is, every ounce of your perfect you-ness deserves all of the love, compassion, and acceptance that you are reserving for when you “finally get it right”.

You’ve already gotten it right, my dear. You are here. You are worthy. You can give all that to yourself right now.

You might make different choices later. You might morph and transform and learn and change and grow. And you will also be perfect when that happens.

It’s not that there is no such thing as perfection. It’s that you are already perfect. And contrary to what most people think, perfection is stunningly imperfect.

Molly

Here’s how to prepare tempeh in a way that’s quick and that sings with flavor and texture.

First, you want to s…

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Feeling uncomfortable is uncomfortable.

Feeling sad, angry, worried, discouraged, or anxious are feelings that don’t feel good when we’re in them. It’s natural to want to feel joyful, happy, excited, uplifted and hopeful. We all want the heaviness to lift.

We live in a society that encourages us to feel better as soon as a “bad” feeling comes up.

There are entire systems, organizations, apps, careers, and companies that are built around making sure we feel good all day, every day. The push to be cheery no matter what is systemic.

So naturally, as soon as we feel the slightest bit uncomfortable or down or sad or angry, we look outwards and reach for the closest thing that will soothe, take away our pain, and make us feel better. We have been taught that some feelings are good and some feelings are bad, and to avoid the bad ones as much as humanly possible.

We can pop pills, we can eat, we can scroll, we can reach for alcohol, we can pour ourselves another cup of coffee, we can put in 10-hour workdays, we can refresh our socials, we can eat sugar, we can play games on our phone, we can turn on Netflix.

There are countless ways we can distract ourselves from feeling sad, down, anxious, or any other feeling that has been labeled as “bad”, and run from the pain, straight into the arms of distraction and consumption.

But here’s the thing.

When we numb, when we constantly distract ourselves, when we ignore those uncomfortable feeling and push them down, when we paint on a smile and pretend that everything’s fine, when we look outward for comfort, when we run away from our pain, a welcome relief might momentarily wash over us, but it’s fleeting. And in return, we deny ourselves the opportunity to sit with, experience, and process whatever feeling is coming up.

That’s the irony, isn’t it? The thing we try to escape from is the very thing that will ultimately make us feel better. But we have to be courageous enough to sit with our feelings and feel them. We must be present. We can’t run away. We can’t numb out. We can’t distract.

Allow me to paint a picture for you. Imagine there are two tunnels in front of you.

Pain tunnel: one tunnel is filled with obstacles and grief and sorrow and loss and heartbreak and pain. But if you look far enough you can see a warm, soothing light at the end of this tunnel.

Fun tunnel: this tunnel is easy. It’s filled with cakes and cookies and movies and kitten reels and cocktails and endless episodes of the Great British Bake Off. It’s not filled with intense feelings of pain and grief. But as you look at this tunnel, you notice it has no end. It just goes on and on and on. No warm, soothing light, and no end in sight.

At first, choosing the fun tunnel is a no-brainer because it’s easy and it’s not uncomfortable. You pick the fun tunnel, and you venture in, excited about your choice. Come on, who voluntarily chooses pain and sadness over cake and booze? And wait – what’s that? Yup, there are strippers in the fun tunnel! A bonus you were not expecting.

You think about the poor suckers who choose the pain tunnel because you’re sitting pretty, double-fisting martinis while being fed cheese by attractive naked people, watching Friends back-to-back starting from episode one. There’s also an endless supply of really good chocolate, potato chips, and painkillers, should you feel the slightest bit of discomfort at any point.

You’re rolling through the fun tunnel on high, but as time goes on, you start to feel funny. You feel tired, weak, and groggy. Your mind isn’t sharp. You feel disconnected and distracted. You reach for another cup of coffee and a donut, and this perks you up momentarily, but then you feel even worse. So you stop and watch more TV, and then you take a nap. You wake up sluggish, and you keep walking, but you’re walking much slower than when you first entered the tunnel.

Your original excitement is gone, and you want the strippers to put on clothes. You also want to see an end to the tunnel because, for all the “fun” things in the fun tunnel, you’re not feeling very fun or happy. But the fun tunnel has no end. There is no light waiting for you. It’s filled with plenty of instant gratification, but there’s no joy in sight.

Fuck the fun tunnel. You turn around and head back.

You walk out of the fun tunnel and over to the pain tunnel. It’s dark. There is no Netflix. There is no sugar. There is no booze. There is not one stripper. It’s quiet. It looks lonely. But you keep looking at the end of the tunnel, illuminated by a welcoming, soft light. You take a deep breath, and you step in. You start walking, and oh shit, it’s painful! You start to cry. You keep walking. You become flooded with anger. You keep walking. Sadness washes over you. You keep walking. You drop to your knees with sorrow.

You blow your nose and wipe your eyes as you get deeper into the belly of the tunnel. Your sadness is intense and sharp, and you can feel it in every crevice of your body. You keep walking. As you get closer to the end of the tunnel, you start to feel lighter. More clear. More grounded. More energized. Your sadness is there, but it has transcended your fear, and it’s now just part of who you are, and it isn’t scary anymore.

You keep walking.

You reach the end of the tunnel, and the light welcomes you as you exit your pain. The light is warm and peaceful and quiet, and you feel content bathing in its grace. You look back on the pain tunnel, and you realize that just like happiness, joy, and love, your pain, anger, and sadness are just another part of who you are. One is not better than the other, they are just different. You realize that the only way to feel better is to honor all of your feelings by experiencing them equally, and allowing them all to be part of who you are. Because you see now that they are all part of you, and none of them are wrong or bad.

So tell me, what tunnel are you currently in?

It’s hard to be uncomfortable, but it’s part of being human. It will pass, just like everything else. The next time you feel sad or angry or down, go with it. Be fully present. Allow yourself to feel fully without reaching for something to stop it. Do this simply because this is what you are feeling.

We are hardwired to get through tough times, but in order to get through them in a productive and helpful way, we have to tell the fun tunnel to fuck off, and then feel the sting.

Molly

I usually crave beans and soup and salad and potatoes and stir-fry and pasta with loads of veggies, red sauce and Walnut-parm. But those cravings are gone for the moment. I suspect it was all the vegan eating out I did in Seattle that messed with my craving-healthy-food wiring. I know it will be back, but alas, here we are.

Today, I had my usual breakfast of grains and fruit - and I topped it with chia pudding. Yum. For lunch, I made crepes because I wanted to start a new tradition of eating crepes after Christmas. I put some gluten-free flour, orange zest, vanilla and soy milk in the blender and poured 1/3 cup of batter at a time on a lightly oiled non-stick skillet.

They were delish. I had four of them drizzled with maple syrup. It was exactly what I wanted.

I went about my day, which consisted of cleaning the litter box, putting away my winter clothes that I used in Seattle, fixing the bracket thing that holds my curtain rod, and watering my plants - integrated with watching Netflix, napping, and coloring with colored pencils.

When it was time for dinner, I did not want to cook or eat veggies, but intellectually I knew it needed to happen.

I scanned the freezer and fridge and made a plan for dinner. An incredibly easy plan that required only a smidge of effort. More importantly, it sounded like something I wanted to eat. So I turned that desire into action.

I popped a frozen grocery store veggie burger in a skillet and heated it up. I chopped some mushrooms, kale, and bok choy and put it right in the skillet with the burger to cook.

Then, I threw some chopped cabbage, cucumber and cherry tomatoes in a mixing bowl and tossed it with Miso Tahini Dressing. I placed the burger, mushrooms and greens in a happy, bright yellow bowl, topped it with the cabbage mixture and threw on some toasted sunflower seeds.

Et voilà. Dinner was served.

It took me less than 10 minutes and it was really yummy. My body felt good after all those veggies and I was one step closer to craving all the plants again.

I will put this in rotation until I get my eating oomph back.

It doesn’t have to be all or nothing.

Find your middle and make friends with it.

Not wanting to show my face much or put myself in the spotlight of my community.

I’ve made this mean many things about me, none of them good.

For the past 11 years, I have been the face of Clean Food Dirty Girl, and sure, we aren’t Goop status or super well known outside of the niche of whole-food plant-based eating, but we have an audience, we have a community, and we have a business that has required me to be front and center.

Truth be told, I was never super comfortable with this. I am more introverted than extroverted. I am not deeply confident in how I look or how I speak. And seeing pictures or videos of myself makes me cringe. Actually, I would have rather had a plant-based lasagna be the face of CFDG, but even though lasagna is delicious, it doesn’t connect with people like a human can. So I stepped up and took on being the face.

With practice and time, it became easier to put myself out there. I talked openly about my struggles, I gave details about my life, and I brought our community along for the ride-whatever I was doing.

But then things changed. As things do.

Starting at the end of 2022, I went through a separation and divorce (from the co-founder of CFDG), my sister died, I moved out of my beautiful house to a small condo, I started a new relationship-my whole life changed. And all of a sudden, it was harder than ever to be in the spotlight. I did what I could, but I didn’t have it in me to share everything I was going through because some things weren’t appropriate to share and some things were just too hard, too raw.

This morning, I woke up at 5:30am with all kinds of unhelpful, mean thoughts. Thoughts like:

I should put myself out there more, but I’m not pretty enough.

I’m too old to make reels; no one wants to look at my face.

There are much more beautiful people out there doing similar things, why even try?

No one cares what I have to say.

Does anyone even read my Saturday emails?

I can’t believe we don’t have more members in Drop It Club and Meal Plan Club. I’m not an effective leader, business person, or coach.

I’m such a failure.

I was having an epic mental drama in the dark, and my usual techniques for bringing myself back to my body were not working.

I stayed in bed in the dark for an hour, listening to this fucked-up cacophony, before I forced myself to get up. I made a cup of tea and checked my text messages. I had a message from my sister Annelies, and it said, Happy Solstice. She included a picture of her winter altar.

I’ve always known about solstice, in that two of them happen a year-one in winter and one in summer. But I’ve never gone much deeper than that. This morning, I decided to ask the internet about the significance of winter solstice. That was a good move on my part.

Here’s what I wrote down that spoke to me:

• The year’s longest night and shortest day.

• Rebirth. Renewal. Return of light.

• Pause for reflection.

• Honoring the darkness as a source of rest and healing.

• Setting intentions as the sun begins its rebirth and begins to lengthen.

• Hope.

• Inner light.

• New beginnings.

• Releasing the old.

• Welcoming the promise of growth and vitality in the coming cycle.

After sitting with this, it dawned on me that no, there’s nothing wrong with me. I’ve just been in a period of hibernation and healing for the past three years.

I forgot it’s normal to go through periods of being inward and private, and sometimes those periods last much longer than we would like or think is reasonable. I forgot to honor my darkness, my complexity, my messiness. I forgot that a lot of people on social media only show us the most polished version of themselves, and 100% of them think they aren’t good enough at one point or another. I forgot that sometimes being human looks like waking up at 5:30am and thinking we’re the worst. I forgot that even if my thoughts are true, I am not my thoughts.

I won’t attempt to wrap up this post in a tidy package with a sparkly bow, making you think everything is fine and dandy after a brief encounter and reflection on winter solstice.

No, I’m still feeling like a bear, deep in her den. But reading about solstice has reminded me that it’s normal to feel inward. That no emotion is good or bad. And that there’s rest and healing in darkness.

It also helped me pause and reflect on my life and what I’m ready to shed so I can more easily step into present-day Molly, not 2014–2022 Molly.

Here are some of those things:

Social media for personal use. Comparing myself to other people. Doing what I’ve always done just because I’m used to doing it that way. Disconnecting from my body. Pretending to be confused.

I was invited to a gathering that was far from plant-based. Even the Brussels sprouts were cooked in butter. The host knew I was plant-based, so she said it was best if I brought a dish that I could eat. Because really, no one cooking a traditional Thanksgiving feast for 18 people h…

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We’re coming into citrus season here on Maui. That means delectable oranges and amazing grapefruits. Our lemons and limes are fabulous year-round, and so are papayas. Before I moved to Maui, I did not like papaya. Once I tasted a papaya fresh off the tree, that all changed. My favorite way to eat it is with a generous squeeze of lime.

A couple of my friends just started an E-mountain biking tour on a private ranch. They asked me to test it out as a beginner. It was harder than I thought it would be. At one point, I did think I was going to throw up. I thought E-bikes would just go without me having to do much work. Not the case in this instance. It was a cool experience, and I would do it again!

View from the trail.

Here’s one of my recent batch cooking sessions. I love to use the Clean Food Dirty Girl portal and find recipes that use ingredients I already have. This is a great way to use up what you have before you buy more food. Here we have red rice, quinoa, beans, tomato soup, baked tofu, Lemony Tahini Dressing, green bean casserole, amaranth, steamed beets, Buckwheat Bread, and toasted sunflower seeds. Plant-powdered and so good!

A consequence of batch cooking.

Two of my friends just opened the cutest little cafe in Kihei. It’s almost all plant-based, and the food is damn good. They offer Japanese snacks, bento boxes, and sweet and savory crepes. If you’re ever in Kihe, check out Something Great Hawaii and tell them I sent you! They are the sweetest couple, and they worked so hard to make this restaurant happen.

My mom and I enjoying crepes with banana, homemade chocolate, and coconut whipped cream.

Speaking of my mom. Look what she pulled out when she was organizing her closet! I believe this was the 7th week of our meal plans, back when our members would download a PDF and cook from that. Our original Dirties will appreciate this!

Some of my yummy meals lately. When I cook, I use our recipes because there really is no point in making any others. LOL

Such a beautiful salad!

Hot tip: add sauerkraut to your salad for a savory / umami kick! I also love adding Tamari Roasted Sunflower Seeds on top.

These scrambled tofu tacos were way too beautiful not to take a picture of. Adding radish and tomato adds a nice texture and a pop of color.

This was what I brought to the Thanksgiving dinner I was invited to. It was an omni event, but this salad was devoured and enjoyed by all. It is our Gratitude Salad with a few modifications. It is a delight to eat and will now be on repeat.

Simple and satisfying. Quinoa with cabbage and parsley, roasted butternut squash, and mayocoba beans from Rancho Gordo. This combination was a winner. And it took all of five minutes to heat up since I cooked all these components on my batching day.

A little break to enjoy a matcha latte and read some of the magical Andrea Gibson poetry.

My Sunday routine involves a cup of green tea, Sweet Pea, and my journal. I look forward to this quiet moment every week.

A stunning sunset that greeted me after my weightlifting class.

Not as bright, but just as beautiful.

I found this photo recently. This is the house I grew up in, the one my parents built while we lived in a teepee. I loved this fireplace and this room. When I need a quiet, safe place in my mind, this is where I go.

Little baby me at 9 months old!

Anything less stimulating didn’t light me up.

A beautiful sunset? Yawn.

A wonderful piece of classical music? No thanks.

Going for a hike? Blah.

Sitting on the porch with a cup of tea in the morning? Blandorama.

It was the same with food. When I used to eat a lot of vegan junk food and eat out all the time, it took eating vegan junk food and eating out to find pleasure in food.

Anything less stimulating didn’t light me up.

A bowl of whole grains for breakfast? LOL.

A big green salad for lunch? Yeah, no.

Beans and rice with veggies for dinner? Only if it was wrapped in a tortilla and slathered with store-bought vegan cheese and vegan sour cream, baby!

An apple for a snack? Maybe if it was drenched in peanut butter.

It’s like the dial of life had to be turned all the way to high in order for things to register in my brain as being enjoyable.

Fast forward many years: I no longer drink. I no longer smoke. I rarely eat vegan junk food, and I hardly ever eat out. Do you know what I find enjoyable now? What lights me up? What makes my soul smile?

Smelling a delicious bar of soap.

Reading in bed before I go to sleep.

Eating raw snap peas from the farmers market.

Touching the rosemary in my yard and then smelling my hands.

A bowl of cooked beans and greens.

Watching palm trees blow in the breeze.

Putting away clean dishes.

Eating a ripe piece of fruit.

Hanging up my clothes on the clothesline.

A glass of cold water on a hot day.

When we recalibrate the life dial, we’re able to experience and enjoy the simple things that have always been right in front of us. That alone is worth turning that dial down.

Molly

I looked through the photos, clicked out of Facebook, and closed my computer.

My response to my friend’s photos wasn’t happiness for her happiness.

My response was bitter disappointment. Disappointment that I can’t drink alcohol like she can, in moderation and with limits, therefore, not at all.

As I looked at her pictures, I missed the feeling of getting drunk. I missed escaping from my head for a little while. I missed that feeling of pure relaxation where everything is soft and okay for the moment. I missed having the option to turn down the hard realities of life and turn up my smile. I missed having the type of fun that I have only ever been able to achieve by drinking alcohol.

I wasn’t tempted to drink that night, but I did throw myself a major pity party that I was fully committed to attending for the rest of the evening.

The next morning I woke up early, I got out of bed, and I started my day. I peed, brushed my teeth, washed my face, changed out of my pajamas, went to the kitchen, heated up water to drink, went to my yoga room, did my stretching / movement, went back to the kitchen, boiled water for tea—and that’s when the message slapped me upside the head:

Molly, you’re not hungover.

You are enjoying the morning.

You are content.

You remember the conversations you had last night.

The bird songs outside are filling your heart.

You feel energized.

You are looking forward to your day.

You are excited to eat fruit.

Your head isn’t pounding.

Life is running through you.

And apart from the mild undercurrent of sadness that comes along with being human, you are happy.

I might not be able to drink alcohol with my friends around a campfire, but you know what? I DON’T EVEN LIKE CAMPING. That shit is way too cold and dusty. And secondly, I am unwilling to trade in overall joy and contentment for short term pleasure and escape that will only lead to stealing my overall joy and contentment.

If you ever find yourself missing things you no longer do because they were destructive, recognize the longing and know it will pass. It’s important to mourn the things we miss. It helps us heal. Give yourself some space to feel it without trying to fix it. Sometimes the very best action is no action at all.

Molly

Scary because it drops the illusion of being in control.

Empowering because it drops the illusion of being in control.

Try it with me, let’s say it out loud:

“I don’t know.”
“I have no clue.”
“I don’t have the answer.”
“Beats me.”
“I haven’t the faintest.”
“Fuck knows.”
“I have no idea.”

After you feel the fear of “I don’t know” you can start enjoying the freedom of “I don’t know.”

It allows you to breathe a little deeper and find some space.

It allows you to stop grasping and start releasing.

It allows your shoulders to soften and your body to relax.

We don’t have all the answers because we simply can’t have all the answers. All we can do is show up and put one foot in front of the next and keep making the next best choice with what’s available to us.

There will be hurdles and roadblocks and challenges and things that make us question why we’re doing whatever it is we’re doing. Not having all the answers isn’t a deal breaker. Giving up because you don’t have all the answers is.

It’s okay to not know right now.

Take a deep breath, relax into the mystery of life, and trust that your answers will come in their own divine timing.

Molly

Her name is Nat and I attended her 106th birthday party last year, and she was at my birthday party the year before that. Her memory is jumbled, and you never know what she’ll say, but she’s always smiling and telling jokes. She recently went through a phase where everything she said ended in a rhyme. Every time I see her, she tells me the importance of not taking oneself too seriously.

I asked her what her secret is to living such a long life, and she said if it wasn’t for all the loving people around her, she would be long gone. It’s a testament to the power of community, family, and friendship. She also said her sister lived to be 104, so it runs in the family.

And then, with a twinkle in her eye and a sly, confident smile on her face, she said:

“In life, you start at the top and you work your way down. And when you get to the bottom, you look around, and you say ‘Oof, sorry about all that.’”

Mic drop. 🎤

Because damn, isn’t it the truth?

When we’re young, we think we know so much. We think we’re invincible, that we know best. We think we have it all figured out, we’re so sure that we’re right, and we have such conviction.

Then the older we get, the more we realize how very little we know. We see our mistakes, and we become more and more aware of our flaws. As the years pile up, we get clear on just how human we are.

This isn’t a reason to feel defeated, guilty or doomed, it’s a reminder that it’s okay to mess up.

That there’s nothing wrong with you because you didn’t do it perfectly.

That you aren’t any less of a person because things went sideways.

That just because you made a mistake, it doesn’t mean you are a mistake.

That everyone has regrets and we all have things to work on.

Here’s to starting at the top and working our way down with this messy, imperfect, beautiful, joyful, devastating, painful, wonderful life of ours.

Molly

I wouldn’t call this activity “enjoyable,” but it has helped me live the life that I want, instead of one that is blurred out of a constant state of reaction.

When you really start to face your shit, all the walls you’ve built up over the years to protect yourself begin to crumble. And while the process might not be enjoyable, I believe that my life is more enjoyable because of it.

When I first quit drinking, there was a chair in my living room that I called my “Embrace the Suck” chair. My ex and I were living in Arizona in a tiny house the size of a matchbox. We had no AC, and the summers would sometimes reach 115° F (46° C).

We were committed to making Clean Food Dirty Girl successful and, in order to do that, we both had to work on it much more than full time. And to do that we couldn’t get traditional jobs. And because we didn’t have traditional jobs, we had just enough money to pay our rent, pay our bills, and buy essential groceries each week. We had a bed and a couch in our tiny house, but no other furniture. Because you don’t buy furniture when you can barely afford groceries.

Early one morning, I left the house to go for a walk, and that’s when I spotted it. Discarded right next to the dumpster across the street from our house sat a big beautiful chair. I crossed the street to take a closer look. This chair was magnificent. It had a gorgeous wooden frame, and a thick futon sat on top of the frame. It was so deep and wide that it could easily fit two people. The frame had hinges so you could lay it flat and turn it into a small bed. It was sturdy and expensive looking, and I wanted it! The only problem was, it stank SO BAD.

The chair smelled so strong of cat spray and cat pee that as soon as you were a few feet from the chair, the aroma would waft into your nostrils, stinging them as it entered. But the chair was so lovely. But it smelled so bad. But it would be so comfy. But damn it, it really did reek. But it was so nice. But I literally gagged when I got close to it. But it was probably custom-made. But what bodily fluids, cat or otherwise, were hidden in the inner workings of the futon? But I wanted a chair. Fuck it. I would make this chair mine.

I called for Luanne, and together, we wrestled it over to our house, gagging all the while. We left it outside and began the cleaning process. It took a few days of thorough cleaning and sunning before it smelled good enough to bring inside our house and find its new home by the tiny shed window in our living room / bedroom / dining room.

This chair wasn’t called the “Embrace the Suck” chair because we were so broke that we had to get our furniture from dumpsters, no, no. It was called the “Embrace the Suck” chair because the morning I found that chair also happened to be the first morning of my sobriety.

From that day forward, as soon as the cravings for alcohol hit (which were frequent and intense), I would sit my ass in that big, beautiful, smelly chair, and I would sink into the suck (and whatever other ungodly things were in that chair).

It wasn’t a wallowing, “poor me” vibe. It was more of a “this is when I would normally drink, and instead, I’m going to sit in this chair and feel all the feelings bubbling up to the surface that weren’t allowed to bubble up when I drank” vibe. It was hard. It was weird. It was painful. It was empowering.

Little by little, my walls came down, and that chair held it all.

I no longer have that chair. I got rid of it when we moved to Hawaii, but I will always be grateful that it found me right when I needed it.

The world works in mysterious ways, and sometimes the things we need to help us through show up in the unlikeliest of places.

Molly

It usually hits me after dinner when everything is wrapped up for the day and it’s time to relax.

It’s not overpowering. It’s just quietly there, tenderly reminding me of mortality. Delicately bringing the mystery of life to my attention. Harmlessly providing evidence of how vast the universe is in comparison to my body. Softly making space for the suffering of humanity.

I’ve come to know this as the dull ache of being human.

During the day, I’m busy with life stuff—work, chores, errands, feeding the cat, moving my body, eating, following my schedule, family stuff, all the things. That dull ache might be there, but I wouldn’t know because it is pushed aside by my focus on other things. When I used to drink, that dull ache was pushed aside by alcohol.

When there is no distraction to push it away, the dull ache easily makes its way to the surface and shows itself. I used to think this dull ache was a mistake. A character flaw. A problem that needed to be fixed.

I have come to understand that this dull ache is part of my human experience. Nothing is wrong with me. Nothing needs fixing. It doesn’t last forever. And there is nothing anyone else, not even the best therapist, can do to make it go away.

It is my birthright.
It is the down to my up.
The struggle to my joy.
The winter to my summer.
The bad news to my good news.
The lull to my acceleration.

I have the privilege of experiencing the dull ache of being human, and my life is so much sweeter because of it. It might be uncomfortable to sit with, but I value its presence, so I no longer run away.

I honor it.
I notice it.
I feel it.

And then it gently slips away as tenderly as it arrived.

Molly