A year and a half ago, i felt called to share some words about the journey of our rather epic home renovation process. Living inside a construction zone of “popping” the top has been a marathon for sure. There are some good bits in those pieces ~ you can listen to or read the first one here where i touch on “done-ness” and explore The How vs The What, and the following one about intentionally infusing inspiration into my world here.

Here’s the thing about stretching a project like this (which is like 842 ‘mini’ projects) over almost nine years: i am, we are, becoming/changing/evolving inside of it.

As within, so without ~ quite literally.

Certainly, during this time i’ve gathered practical skill-sets (anyone need tiling?), developed efficient strategies for tackling large-scale phases, and reorganized living spaces many times over to accommodate forward movements while ensuring they still vibrate a sense of comfort and peace (this has not been easy). The guiding question of what is the purpose of this space now - in this iteration, this season, this step of the process? helped steer the outward motions as our home morphed through these years.

My interior world has been quietly mirroring this steady transformation and i’ve been sitting with similar inquiries. The inward cocoon i’ve been in these last several solar revolutions have provided a certain dissolution of the selves i had been inhabiting, a necessary void that has required intense shedding, so that expansion has ample room to do its thing. And expansion, i have been learning, actually requires deep surrender into presence, not excessive planning - a midlife plot-twist for a responsible Capricorn mother-leader, well-practiced in staking out the path ahead. Turns out, when we break down the word “responsible,” it means the ability to respond - to What is Now, and — Who i ‘Am,’ Now, a refreshing re-frame on a descriptor that has felt a bit burdensome since childhood. In these years of finding my own rhythms and relationship with the paradox of surrender-as-the-way-of-expansion, a many-layered question has subtly been in my field:

How am i, with the external metaphor of this house saga, honing a more-coherent relationship with the cosmic dances of

efforting + trust,

willpower + destiny,

planning + flow,

of my masculine + feminine energies?

In 2017, a blueprint was drawn up, stamped by the engineers, and approved by the city building department. These plans indicate that the abandoned downstairs 1952 kitchen now will become a large bathroom, some new walls will go up, encasing a large, primary bedroom, and another current wall will have a doorway blasted through it. There’s even been some serious dollars already handed to our plumber-neighbor for his drainage routing/upgrade work he did for the big tub we imagined.

People, i’m a lil exhausted just from writing all that.

Stamina is a thing, for sure. i (like you?) have been a well-practiced work-horse for many, many years. But it’s more than just shouldering onward because the ‘us’ from eight or nine years ago said that this was what we were going to do now.

It’s a matter of allowing me/us to honestly ask ourselves, is this what we still want? Is this plan, and the effort/resources it demands, a true representation of what is important to us today? Are we allowing our external home-world to evolve as we feel that we are, more accurately reflecting the values, passions, and life’s learnings we feel anchored into now? Or do we contort ourselves down a path steered by past obligations and dutiful follow-thru, or fear of future resalability, despite energetic misalignment?

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There is no tidy way to describe what i’ve quietly been witnessing weave around me these last few years of inner and outer metamorphosis . . . the threading of creative expressions into mediums familiar and new, inside containers that are both invisible and manifest. Playing with reclaimed energy, watching it move through me with ever-heightened curiosity, permission, detachment, amusement. Observing the ways my focus shifts, my nervous system responds, my body follows… allowing myself to follow the creative breadcrumbs without requiring each morsel to define me in some way, yet knowing that the immersive enjoyment of each nibble along the journey is the point; the path will reveal what it’s intended to. My job is to pay attention. Feel. Metabolize and integrate the kernels of insights gathered. And take the next step from there.

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It started with a transom window, a last-minute thought during the framing process of the winter of 2017. Above the new bathroom door, a rectangular hole was sanctioned for . . . . something. At the time, i really wasn’t sure what i’d land on for that space, but the chance to (beautifully) bring more light through was enough for me to know in that moment. i’d figure it out eventually.

And, eventually, i did. This pane became the impetus for setting myself on the stained glass path, a process i’d (at a distance) been intrigued with for a while. When i had the chance to learn from the friend of a beloved, a man who was nearing the end of his life after a long journey with ALS, i enthusiastically dove in. Mark’s commitment to glass + creative expression, despite the heartbreaking deterioration he was experiencing in his body, still fills me with awe and inspiration to this day.

Where does one allow passion to inhabit not only internal spaces, but actual square footage? When does the time come to make room for a wider vision, for letting yourself leap in a new way, a way that asks for a certain harmonic expression of the inner and outer life, even if it means releasing old ‘plans,’ fears, and perceived barriers?

This time is now.

Sunchaser Studios is one of the seeds i’ve been nurturing for the last year or so, a now-response to this elevated devotion of coherence, beauty, and inspiration. The decision was made at some point in the recent past to release those ole blueprints, and offer up the downstairs as a dedicated creation-space. The mid-century kitchen is becoming a perfect glass studio, slowly getting upgrades along the way. This past spring, Anthony built a light table/storage shelf to replace the mustard-yellow electric stove, an absolute game-changer! And just last week the dishwasher was removed + hauled off to the ReStore; i am currently in the steps of building a glass storage shelf in its place, with dividers (here i come, dado blade!), interior lights on a switch, and making good use of materials we already have.

i’ve also recently been plugging back into the space of teacher-guide, as i’ve moved a few close women through the stained glass process. It has been bringing me a fresh sense of possibility and affirmation, that this space be leveraged as a gathering place to learn, play, explore, express and re-connect. A few of them stayed overnight in the cottage, prototyping an immersive, two-day experience (complete with provided food nourishment as well) that i am about to share more broadly.

This June i co-hosted a lovely day retreat where the space doubled as a meditative sound bath container and a place to make meaningful, hand-crafted, spirit-inspired amulets. In observing these humans map out their vision, engage their hands and heart in a unified way, soften into a process that can only be described as divine, i was utterly moved. It was an emotional day, holding the grief i was feeling at the time, while simultaneously bearing witness to dream-fractals unfurling before my eyes.

(isn’t that how it goes?)

Nine-years-ago-me . . . she even couldn’t have envisioned all of this. There was a foundation tho, gratefully one that i share with Anthony, that our only responsibility (really) is to practice (in all facets, phases + contexts) being present with What Is. To leave room for the mysterious forces, including people and relationships, that are here to play a part of our Becoming. And that in that Becoming, there is and will always be, seasons of dissolution, destruction, clearing, as well as times of re-envisioning, rebirth, creation. The question is whether we will be willing and/or learn to ride that wave, to surrender into the currents of cosmic play, and allow ourselves to be transformed ~ within, and without ~

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Thanks for being here ~ it offers a certain coalescence for me, with language-as-medium, serving as a channel to bring Life’s latest noticings forward — always first for my own synthesis, joy, self-witnessing…and for whomever else is intended to receive it.

If you are interested in taking a peek into my glass and laser-art creations, check out my IG page (website is in the works!): @sunchaser.studios ~ perhaps there is something you see that calls to you in some way..? Always open to riffing and/or custom creations 💛

i made dill dressing today…

That delectable, creamy sauce of Naturally’s days that holds a constant presence in our fridge. Five ingredients whipped together for herby-tang magic that goes on … well, most everything.

If you know, you know.

It’s a slightly larger batch, in preparation for a sweet lil spiritual day-retreat i’m co-hosting and creating lunch for on Saturday.

One thing i love about working with food - all of its many processes and tools, textures and hues - is its profound metaphorical terrain for The Bigger Things ~ the bowls, blenders and stock pots providing literal containers to translate how these humble moments of creating food (aka, life force energy nourishment) can assist in illuminating The Deeper Shit ~

Because yes, the mayo and yogurt were whisked to a smooth, white consistency, followed by the dried dill, the Spike and garlic powder. Ingredients that, with practiced taste-buds, one might guess.

But what is less detectable are the other ingredients that became a part of this particular batch: the ones that were coursing through me as i brought myself to the altar of its making ~

…the dance that moved through me as i breathed and cried and surrendered to tribal rhythms under the sun. . . medicine for all that feels heavy and out of my hands. A calling to be back in my body.

…the poetry that got laid down on the next page in my journal.

…the connective words i exchanged with my son before he transitioned back to his dad’s for a few days.

…the moments i sweetly watched Anthony from the upstairs kitchen window, working on his first big welding/metal sculpture, deep in his creative process and devotion to his artistic path.

…the text sent that bled vulnerability, boundaries and self-honoring.

…the prayers that flowed freely from my eyes as i planted morning glory seeds i had captured from last fall’s dried pods, watering them with tears of sorrow for humans in my field who are holding unbearable pain right now

…the ‘chore’ of doing the dishes that i turned into meditation of gratitude for running water of every temperature variation, a spacious sink i love that i picked out, the massive window that is positioned in front of me so i can watch the finches take turns at the bird feeder.

it’s all in there ~ right along with the yogurt and dried dill.

Because it’s all energy ~ we are powerful beacons, transmitters, channels.

i might wax on about this on any given day ~ observing the energy that i translate from one motion into another, one task into the next, allowing it to meld into the unique Now i was inside of. i feel poetry on the tips of most moments, the full-range of human experiences exposed for lyrical material, threaded through the mundane.

But try not to get lost in the details, my details, however you might be perceiving them.

Don’t get caught up on the exterior of what my world ‘looks like,’ in the comparing game.

i’m speaking to a super power we all have access to, when we bring consciousness into the present moment. Of deep recognition that we are always invited to bring awareness of how we are showing up in our Current Now; to be a gentle witness to the energy that is within and around us, sensing what (exactly) all is “going into” that which we are emitting - through vibrations of words, actions and even thoughts.

When the pace intentionally slows, even just a little bit, discernment goes up for where, who, when, and how it moves out of us, as well as what is welcomed ‘in.’

As i finish writing this, i will soon close my laptop and finish preparing the cottage for Susannah arriving this afternoon, a theater teacher in town for a past student’s wedding; and after that, final prepping of the downstairs studio space for tomorrow’s activities involving meditation, crafting a sacred amulet, and a sound bath…with a mid-day salad bar spread, complete with a generous bowl of dill dressing, of course.

Everything weaves, everything is connected.

We each have our own completely unique stash of “ingredients” ~ players in our field, embodied life experiences within us, current circumstances around us, mediums that draw us closer ~ that we get to alchemize, create with, heal through, and share with others as we embody the abundance and beauty that is here for us to remember and radiate outward like the beacons we are.

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So here you are friends, the recipe for Naturally’s famous dill dressing. It has seriously brought so much yumminess to so many, i want to give you access to whipping up a batch yourself. To be honest, i had been holding out a bit, as it’s been in my sights to publish a recipe book, largely reflective of Naturally’s food we created, wondering how or if money should be a part of that ~

The edges are softening even more these days, releasing layers of the conditioning that says “This” needs to bring me “That.” Of leaning evermore deeply into the trust that everything feeds into everything, abundance comes in many forms, and we’re here to enjoy, share, support, and receive.

Naturally’s continues to weave itself into my life, even fourteen years after we closed our doors for the last time. i honor the ways it threads my past and my present moment, making today’s dill dressing recipe the same . . . but like it’s never been made before.

It’s called love, my friends. It always was, and continues to be, the most important ingredient.

Enjoy.

Naturally’s Dill Dressing

This recipe makes quite a bit ~ stores fine in minimal-air containers (use glass!) for up to several weeks in the fridge. Make the whole thing, share some with a friend, or do some math and break it down for a smaller quantity. 😉

If you don’t use Nancy’s brand yogurt (recommended!), find another non-fat or low-fat plain version that doesn’t have any fillers or thickeners like cornstarch or guar gum ~ keep it clean! Greek yogurt has a thickness that is not ideal (the mayo already brings its viscosity), but try it if you like.

32 oz container of Nancy’s Nonfat Plain yogurt

16 oz avocado oil mayo or Vegenaise (what we used during Naturally’s days)

2 rounded Tbls. organic dried dill

1 1/2 Tbls Spike All-Purpose Seasoning (check your local natural foods market; they’ll likely carry it if your mainstream grocery does not)

1 rounded Tbls organic granulated garlic

Whisk together mayo and yogurt first until smooth. Then add all seasonings and whisk well again. Transfer to jars or storage containers ~ keep refrigerated.

For optimal flavor, i highly recommended letting this dressing sit/marinate for at least several hours, if not overnight.

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If this, or other posts, have nourished you in some way and you wish to reciprocate, you’re invited to move your gratitude through in a way that is authentic for you ~ through you, out into your world, in whatever energy form feels true… or maybe you have a dill dressing connection you wish to share in the comments below. And while it is not my style to do the whole paywall thing, maybe your gratitude comes in the form of a digital tip jar, aka Venmo ~ as my ingredient worlds need restocking, so i may continue to create ✨🙏

Grateful.

i am writing from the quiet-messy, saturated in palo santo, feeling both shy and called to piece together words when language feels flimsy in some moments, and serves as a life-jacket in others. Knowing, too, that the words are here to serve not as some definitive, tidy reflection of finality, or laced with self-induced pressure to assume some “figured it out” stance, but rather a humble, therapeutic medium to partner with when there is literally nothing i have “figured out.”

So i greet you today, whenever that is, with the intention to keep the humanness, the authenticity pulsing in a time when so much these days carries a draining energy of performance, artifice and illusion.

The air feels heavy with transformation, impermanence. The cosmology as of late affirms that we are in unprecedented times of change. The totems of Snake and Fire Horse, the eclipse windows, the astral alignments, the planetary tilting into Spring’s rebirth all carry confirmations that we are a part of seismic shifts. Maybe you are someone who can sense the micro-macro way this is playing out in your respective world-reality, as well as on the stage of the collective. Old systems and structures of control are breaking down, narratives are losing their grip, Truths are being revealed, identities are dissolving, patterns are being disrupted.

It is heart-breaking, illuminating, exhausting.

Within my own sphere, a certain foundation is quaking under and inside me ~

After five and a half years, She and i are in transition,

out of What Was . . . into an Unknown.

As i move through an intense version of grief these days that feels unbearable in most moments, i watch buds appear on trees almost overnight on my neighborhood walk. As i attempt to envision life without her humming in my field, i am encouraged to take the next step forward in my immediate surroundings and the paths i am allowing space for. As the tears seem to endlessly pour, i strive, with great effort at times, to position myself with the mediums to funnel it all through. To stay with it, this ocean of sadness, and allow it to just be ~

Allow it to ripple through my body as i am called to dance the dance, or sing the song.

Allow it to settle into the cracks between glass, merging them together as i smooth liquid solder over the once-separate pieces.

Allow myself to write her poetry that she’ll likely never read, but feels cathartic to scribe anyway.

Allow the noticing of the excessive care that moves through my hands as i tend to the earth, gently releasing the dried foliage from the fall that still clings to the new growth slowly pushing through the soil towards the sun, observing Death and Life in constant exchange with each other.

To breathe into the uncertainty (that has always existed - here, there and everywhere).

To nurture myself through this moment and the next one; to not numb or distract from the deep ache of the Truth, the knowing that

impermanence lives at the core of this human experience.

Holding the paradox of this, often in the same breath, the fleetingness of the present moment being both the greatest gratitude and the greatest grief, is what makes this life feel … what? Feel so fierce? Valuable? Chaotic? Miraculous? Devastating? (yes, all of it). In the grandiose sweeps between beauty and tragedy, of perceived “gains” and “losses,” can i manage to find the steady knowing within that nothing is wasted, nothing is ‘wrong?’ Can i hold the breadth of this paradox with spacious compassion that it’s all here and it’s ALL true, valid, real, all qualify-able under the umbrella of The Entire Experience that we’re each, on a soul-level, all here for?

It’s honestly been a practice of mine in our relationship since the beginning, this steadying myself as i swayed between profound, fathomless gratitude of a perfect moment ~ the sensation of her kiss, a weekend laden in connection, a season of ease ~ and the sorrow that can surface when needing to allow for spaces ~

Because if we know that (real) love is not possessive, the task of untangling that embedded wiring within invites some honest self-inquiry

Because if we each all are ultimately on the journey home to wholeness within ourselves, that requires a certain spaciousness (from anyone), to uncover the barriers that keep us from fully inhabiting that Truth

Because specific to our dynamic, we’ve had geographic distance (61 miles, as the crow flies) and respective worlds to attend to through it all. Which, we’ve both agreed, has simultaneously been necessary . . . and painful.

Necessary and painful.

Both are true.

i am being reminded, under this week’s Piscean new moon, that this is a liminal time we are in. The world that is emerging is not here yet. That we’re being called to hold a lot more complexity, nuance, and vast spaces of not-knowing than before. A certain energetic tension lives here, the quiet kind that propels paradigms to shift. There’s been a heightened sensation of this in my bones for the last many weeks (if not months), on a variety of levels, and it’s really uncomfortable. What from the past, within my own experience and as a humanity, is (actually) meant to be carried forward? What must be let-go of even more deeply if we are to be active, awake participants in co-creating a world more aligned in love, Truth, freedom .. for all?

Clarity is not here, in this moment, and i suppose that’s part of why i am showing up here at all today in the muddy waters of the bardo-state. To breathe deeply along with you as we each, on our own paths and in our own ways, slowly take brave steps into the next Thing ~

May we leave abundant space for All That is Not To Be Known (Yet), maybe even inside the very moments of grief that drop us to our knees, cultivating some version of steadiness (since we’re down there anyway, hey?) while the wilds of Life and the hopeful re-birthing energies of Spring swirl around us. 💙

{The following is a continuation from a piece i wrote several years ago, a rebirth-day story ~ if you haven’t read that yet, i’d encourage connecting with it in the written or audio realms first. A few more words from my last entry help round out a frame for what follows here ~ ~ }

“Am i really allowed to do this?” i thought to myself as i gathered speed on I-25 south. i was setting off for a weekend in Taos to celebrate my fortieth birthday.

All by myself.

It was only a 3.5 hour drive over the border, but it might as well’ve been a distant country. With every passing mile that stretched me farther from the familiars of home, i felt into the only company i’d have for this handful of days: mine. With nobody else’s presence to consider or energies to mingle with, i quickly moved into a heightened witnessing of thoughts streaming in, many of them still lingering under the umbrella-category of worthiness, of whether i deserved this weekend alone. The words + feelings that arose annoyingly reeked of the social conditioning i was becoming evermore aware of, those of ‘guilty self-indulgence,’ which (i was learning to translate) only affirmed that this very experience, this sprinkling of days to commune with myself, was indeed right on time. i was about halfway through the book Pussy: A Reclamation by Regena Thomashauer, or “Mama Gena” as she is lovingly called, and oye, was it also right on time.

It is very difficult for us [women] to say yes to our own pleasure. We have no experience prioritizing our own joy or making an investment in ourselves. But it is very easy to say yes to responsibility and obligation. We are highly motivated when we can be in service to someone else.” (p.3)

i had been sniffing the edges of martyrdom in education for a while, and the truly endless nature of ‘work’ as a woman-mother-partner-house-manager, and i saw the slipperiness of falling into the socially-exalted stories of “so busy on behalf of others.” i could sense the lurking resentment for the inevitable disconnect that results from dismissing one’s instinctual self, of fully (albeit unconsciously) committing to the “developed”-world’s incessant demands to just.keep.moving. The slowing down of the recent months, via pandemic and the shedding of my teacher-service role, had brutally and beautifully been showing me how imbalanced i had yet-been living my life.

Because when pace is slowed, i was learning, the feminine can’t help but show up.

While driving, i contemplated my recent submergence into understanding the ways that both masculine + feminine aspects present themselves - not relating to gender, but the energetic principles that exist in all humans. The feminine is all about giving generous space to deep feeling, intuition, sensation and pleasure. The new-yet-familiar lands of entwining with Amy, physically, energetically, + emotionally, were fast-becoming a delicious playground and profoundly intense mirror. i was beginning to see the ways that i, like a lot of women, had been taught to override my intuition with logic and rationality, dismiss my body’s intelligent messages in favor of pushing, producing, and endlessly showing up more, even make love with a certain hyper-masculine goal-oriented flare. i sensed, however, that the feminine aspects Amy was activating in me (either via her own expression or repression) were treasures i needed to further-nurture within myself, for myself. To outsource this exclusively to another - male or female-bodied - is patriarchal programming, severing my connection to my wholeness, god/ess, Source. It was my job to create the conditions + contexts to cultivate this. To allow for spaces where i feel clear enough to listen to the whispers of the divine move through me, to nourish a relationship with solitude where i give room for desire to determine my movements, for pleasure to pulse thru the smallest of moments, simply because they delight me. To create occasions to love, know, and celebrate myself in new ways.

First stop, Amber’s house in Pueblo to scoop up a couple bottles of her witchy fire cider, a potent tonic of fermented ingredients. She had recently begun selling fire cider to her circle of friends - a channel for her creativity, an outlet for her deep wisdom and experience of holistic healing, and as a loving response to the dis-empowering energies of fear that were heavy at the time. Tucking Amber’s brew next to me, housed in repurposed wine bottles, i felt my fellow soul-sister’s love wrap around me as i turned back on to the interstate.

i let the road guide the way up over La Veta pass, gifting me with stunning, wintery vistas of sun and snow crystals as i meandered in and out of clouds, a rising crescendo building towards the top. Soon enough i leveled out on the western slope, and turned left down Hwy 159 with Mount Blanca towering over me, my final expanse as i crossed over into New Mexico.

The directions to Nirvana, the camper i was renting as my home-base for the next few days, were a bit north of Taos, a secluded neighborhood of sparse and wide-spread inhabitants. Clearly, these were folk who understood the whole spacious-solitary way of being. i knew i had landed in the just-right spot.

Wendy came out to greet me and guided me towards my parking spot next to a camper covered in beautiful, trippy landscape murals. A deck was built on the eastern, mountain-facing side, complete with a couch to lounge in for sunrises and star-gazing. The interior was decorated with splashes of color to offset the otherwise-typical wood vibe of campers ~ red pleather sofa and recliner, an animal print area rug, tapestry-esque bedding, and an image of the Butterfly Nebula overlooking my sleep-space. It was cute, clean, and the afternoon’s waning sun was pouring in through the western-facing windows. Golden-hour was imminent.

i began transferring my things from the truck, adorning Nirvana with my items and their vibrations. Out came the books and art supplies, candles and instruments, invitingly set up within reach, reminiscent of how i used to arrange Elijah’s play/creation spaces when he was little - tools of inspiration at arm’s length. The petite refrigerator perfectly held my various meal items, the compact shower agreed with my singular occupancy, and the queen bed seemed to also be quite fitting for the occasion.

With everything in its place, i sat on the recliner to watch the sun make the final descent below the horizon, the low clouds turning every color from burnt orange to vibrant pink to a dazzling hue of light indigo.

i looked toward my phone, this connection device to the outside world, and put it on airplane-mode - where i intended on keeping it for the weekend. i had already let both Anthony and Amy know i made it there safely, their love-wishes for my time fresh in my mind. i knew they understood, in their own way, my reasons for spending this birthday-milestone in the way i was choosing.

Amy had recently experienced a concerning neurological event, and was dealing with its effects while she was simultaneously packing up her life and preparing to move from Denver into the mountains. It felt foggy, this range of relationship, and i was often uncertain how to handle my desire to show up for her, support/help where i could, while recognizing that there were inherent limitations in our dynamic. My heart ached to hear of the challenges she was under, yet it was one of what had been and what would be many occasions in which i needed to practice presence, letting go, and trusting.

Just that.

Right.

i turned toward the spiritual texts that had recently been buoying me, especially in regards to how i was witnessing myself inside these two very different relationships ~ “the untethered soul” and “The Power of Now.” Each book felt like a literal lifesaver in the often-wild waters of inner-turbulence, keeping my awareness curiously turned towards the nature of my thoughts and emotional landscape. With two partners, it was painfully obvious to see how trained i had become to occupy myself so thoroughly with the needs of others, something that might otherwise go unnoticed in the well-scripted hetero-normative roles women are (subtly or overly) instructed to play out. The depth of emotional terrain i was navigating with Amy, specifically learning how to hold what was mine, be aware + responsible for that, but not ‘take on’ her pain/wounding/traumas, was revealing my blind-spots, my barely-there boundaries, my patterned attachments to the identity-persona of needing to be needed. The messages from Singer + Tolle were clear: there is nothing more important than tending to our inner spaces through the meditative practices that allow us to be in the seat of objective, loving witness-to-our[ego]selves - to deeply understand who we are, and who we are not.

The backdrop of the desert married well with my recent dive into Clarissa Pinkola Estes’ classic The Women Who Run with the Wolves, with archetypal stories from the southwest like La Loba (Wolf Woman) that were offering poetic and poignant affirmations of the path i was on ~

“La Loba sings over the bones she has gathered. To sing means to use the soul-voice. It means to say on the breath the truth of one’s power and one’s need, to breathe soul over the thing that is ailing, or in need of restoration. This is done by descending into the deepest mood of great love and feeling, till one’s desire for relationship with the wildish Self overflows, then to speak one’s soul from that frame of mind. That is singing over the bones. We cannot make the mistake of attempting to elicit this great feeling of love from a lover, for this womens’ labor of finding and singing the creation hymn is a solitary work, a work carried out in the desert of the psyche.” (p. 24)

i partnered with these sages of spirit and Nirvana to embrace me during these days of heightened inwardness, and opened myself wide, much like the broad New Mexico skies, to receive the medicine.

Vitality. Pleasure. Peace.

These are the words i wrote in my journal to guide me through the moments - without prescription or performance, but purely presence with myself and whatever was arising. Over the next three days and nights, i bathed myself in a version of loving-attentiveness i had not yet experienced ~

i made the forty-minute daily pilgrimage to a nearby hot springs next to the Rio Grande, a ritual that fed every cell in my being . . . lacing up my hiking boots, packing the essentials in my backpack, traversing muddy landscapes of scattered sage + yucca under the warmth of the sun, and the much-cooler, icy-snow-packed-rocky-canyon trail that dropped me down, down, down to the riverside. . . i released all clothing and submerged into the warm, healing waters that held me in a very womb-like way. The same winter breezes that carried soaring eagles above me also grazed my nipples. i watched great horned mountain goats amble on the far canyon wall, feeling a connection to my Capricorn totem and the trek i had just made. i occasionally dipped into the contrasting cold, mountain run-off of the wide river, its soothing sounds and invigorating waters enveloping my body. i spoke to other soakers only when needed, but otherwise felt sheathed in silence and the richness of the sensory experience.

i did yoga on the deck outside the camper under brilliant blue skies, the crisp, sweeping winds of January dancing me through sessions of breath and movement, encouraging me to anchor into steadiness while these unseen forces do what they will around me.

i partnered with Mother cannabis, grown with love by my friend, Janine. This long-time plant ally supported the deep + expansive heart-opening that i was there for. She nurtured a space of softness, loving acceptance, and playfulness. My relationship with this herb was becoming ever-more sacred, and she showed up beautifully during these days, offering deep connection to my body + Spirit.

i sang + danced naked. A lot.

i sat in stillness and did nothing but breathe.

i honored my growing relationship and bond to the spirit of the Great Mother, returning my moonblood back into the Earth, claiming a fresh-yet-primordial connection to the cyclical rhythms we share.

i cried many, many tears of gratitude - for the paths and seasons of my forty years of life that showed me what they had, for the humans in my world who i had been + were cosmically weaving with me in the name of beauty, expansion, Truth.

i wrote letters of gratefulness to three of my sisters, and one to my father whose life was nearing its end.

i slept as much as i desired, drank a lot of water, sipped on Amber’s fire cider.

i prepared and ate food as the art and holy sacrament that it is.

i read Rumi and wrote my own poetry.

i painted with watercolors as the sun rose.

i cooked birthday soup with the ingredients i had gathered on my way out the door, filling Nirvana with aromas of curry, garlic and ginger.

i bundled up and laid under blankets of stars, thick with reminders of the vast web i am, we are, a part of.

Then, on my last afternoon in Nirvana, in the midst of a heated dance session laced with coconut oil, the mother herb and a setting desert sun, i collapsed into the recliner as Trevor Hall sang ~

i was suddenly overcome with the felt-presence of both Anthony and Amy being there with and around me, what their nearness in my life was reflecting back to me. The love relationships that show up are not actually about the other person so much as they are about mirroring back to us the ways we have been disconnected from the Love that We Are. That these humans were both presenting, in their own unique ways, the same message ~ the love we are seeking is already here, within us. We are here to offer that loving reminder of centering ourselves in this deep knowing of wholeness, so that we may love, give, serve and receive from there, and not from a place of perceived incompleteness.

We are all just walking each other home, as Baba Ram Dass reminds us.

This powerful wave of awareness and emotion washed over me so completely, i wept for its simplicity, its beauty, for the gratitude to touch this depth of experience in that moment, in this lifetime, to feel it move through the vessel of my body so exquisitely.

On departure day, i arose early to watch the sun crest over the mountains, stars and planets fading as the light returned. It felt bittersweet to leave this tender space. The cocoon of self-compassion i had spun for myself was not something i wanted to leave in New Mexico, but carry onward within me. The trust and deep appreciation i had strengthened with my body, the portals of peace, power and creation that opened up when i responded to simple pleasures, the nourishment of nature that connected me to my own wildish ways . . . it all felt so precious. i felt precious .. to me, a sensation that i don’t think i had touched until then. A next-level immersive, other-worldly version of this would occur a few years later with the support of a certain toad’s medicine . . . but that is a story for another day.

i packed the truck back up, emptying the camper of belongings but leaving essences i hope would linger for a little while. i thanked Nirvana for offering such loving containment during these days, for holding me as i learned to hold myself in new ways.

The metaphor of ‘the road back home’ was not lost on me, as i returned to the mostly-desolate highway that cold January morning. i felt such thankfulness that the house-home and humans awaiting me there was a place and space of peace and love; that i was genuinely happy to return.

And — home is within me, is wherever i am, and that it is my sacred responsibility, and no others’, to tend to ~ with the devotion of a mother, the tenderness of a lover, the curiosity of a child, the discernment of a soul-guardian, the compassion of a beloved friend.

And so it is, still and evermore.

~ ~ ~

Ok, i thought about ending it there, but i don’t want to leave you with the impression that this ‘road back home’ to myself has been, or is, easy. Far from it. The clarity that is cultivated in spaces of solitude - minimal to no people or tech, or other versions of distraction (and yes, even books + creative tools can be considered distracting on the Spectrum of Aloneness) - is invaluable, especially in the loud, distorted world we are being presented with. However, it asks, rather demands, to be integrated. Applied. Embodied. For adjustments to be made in the outside world that are in resonance with the authenticity found in those spaces of solitude. And if those shifts are not made, well, Life has a way of offering more opportunities to give it another go.

This is hard, often confusing, sometimes lonely, usually confronting work.

There is a lot of grief to allow for, a lot of grace + compassion to hold for oneself on this journey.

Five years later, and sanctioned-solitude has become an essential teacher for me, a space of both rooting and releasing, a holy place of gentle self-witnessing.

A home-base like none-other.

The love-revolution, the activism, must begin within us ~

meaning we have to be brave enough to see the places

where we have abandoned ourselves,

where we have gone to war (thoughts, words, actions) upon ourselves,

where our integrity was flimsy,

where we’ve walled up our hearts and created an “other” (even/especially when that ‘other’ is us).

This, in my opinion, is the most important “work” for us to do in this world of smoke + mirrors: cultivating personal practices and habits that center radical ownership + authenticity.

The world needs us awake + aligned within if we are to experience a unified world “out there.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Thank you for receiving me today, and this telling of a deeply personal and pivotal time. As promised, below you will find the recipe to Birthday Soup, as well as a link to a playlist of sound + word frequencies that were present with me during my time in Taos. Enjoy these supplementary sensory experiences as an offering of gratitude to you, dear one. 🙏

Turning 40 in Taos ~ a Playlist

Birthday Soup

..ok but first, a word on Me + Measuring: Baking, yes, absolutely. Bringing a soup together, not so much. It’s more nuanced, requires a certain relationship to evolve over the course of its creation. It asks to be noticed, attended to. It requests your consistent participation in its unique interpretation ~

All that to say, i encourage you to inhabit my beloved “Land of -ish” where the measurement offered is a suggestion, not a hard-line requirement. Engage with your own intuition, bringing presence to each ingredient ~ more garlic or ginger? Less kale or maybe no beans? i believe in you 🙌 And yes, i know the units of measurement are varied ~

[[**This recipe yields about 4 quarts**]]

Ingredients:

25 grams/6-8 cloves garlic; chopped

35 grams peeled ginger

1 large-ish onion/1.5-2 cups chopped, medium-fine

3 teaspoons salt

2 teaspoons curry powder (i’m sure a spoonful of curry paste could work here as well)

5-ishcups/40oz pure water

7-8 cups of 1/2-inch cubed butternut squash (i highly encourage wearing a clean pair of vinyl gloves when handling the squash ~ there is a “sap” it excretes that is not easy to wash off)(oh, then take those gloves and use them for your next paint project)

2-14oz cans coconut milk

1 15oz can/1.5 cups great northern or cannellini beans, drained + rinsed

2-3 cups (one bunch) loosely packed lacinato kale, center stem removed and chopped medium-rough

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Put on a great playlist, maybe this one ✔

Prep onion, garlic, ginger + squash.

Warm a bit of oil (avocado or coconut) in the pan over medium heat; add onions and cook until mostly soft, stirring often so they don’t burn.

Add garlic + grate ginger (i like to grate it directly into the pot ~ discard the ‘hairy’ bits); cook and stir for another minute before adding in the curry + salt. If needed, add a bit more oil.

Add squash and water ~ ideally the water level will just barely come up over the top of the cubed squash. Cover, and turn up the heat; bring to a moderate boil before turning it back down to simmer.

While the squash is cooking, wash/prep kale and drain/rinse beans.

When the squash is fork tender (cooked, but doesn’t start to disintegrate), turn off the heat ~ add the coconut milk, swirling a bit of water around in the empty cans and/or scraping them out for all the goodness.

Ladle into a blender, not more than 1/3 way full at a time, an even-ish mixture of both broth and squash chunks. Puree and return to pot ~ do this one or two more times until you have a nice balance of puree and chunks in pot.

Add kale and return to a low-simmer; stir often, cooking until kale has achieved a desirable texture (not too crunchy, not complete mush); add beans near the end.

Taste and add more salt if needed.

Enjoy, friend. i hope you taste my love + yours coming through in this co-creation 😋

While i’m fairly certain that nobody out there in Substack-land is lying awake at night, wondering when i’ll finally write part two, it feels like a loose end for me that i wish to follow through with. Not just because i need to make good on a lil promise to you, dear reader, which is important, yes; but mostly because it still feels valuable, relevant, and i’m authentically inspired to do so.

Also, because it’s that time of year.

We’re in the juicy birthday window, the days in between my son’s (6th) and mine (15th). For the last seventeen years, since Elijah emerged into birthing waters at 2am on a cool south-Texas winter night the calendar calls “Epiphany,” this slow, dark, inward time has become quite sacred.

Like most mothers, i would speculate, their child’s birthday is an occasion to not only revisit the literal birth experience, but reflect on the death-rebirth journey that occurred within them upon the arrival of their baby. The ways that this collaboration with the cosmos, this other-worldliness of moving life through the body, swiftly transforming who we know ourselves to be. The soul contracts that are playing out perfectly. The divine timeliness of all the endings and beginnings.

In the northern hemisphere in this season, mother nature encourages us to slow down. Rest — often and deeply. Spend time in quiet, reflection, and self-tending. Allow for a certain dark, womb-incubation space of inner-nurturance; a time for dreaming.

All this to say, it is actually a perfect time to have a birthday. i say ‘actually,’ because anyone with a birthday in the holiday-zone has likely experienced some version of feeling slighted? Over-looked? Enveloped by the energy (exhaustion?) that the holidays can rob from the special-ness of one’s birthday? Of maybe wishing “Their Day” landed at another time of the year?

i will admit that i have found myself in some of those spaces here and there in my life. Of feeling like celebrating after all the celebrating was just, well, a lot. Of keeping my gaze (and subconscious expectations?) turned outward to the world (and the humans in it) to subtly affirm my value/worth/”special-ness” as it translates into birthday acknowledgements.

These days, though, that all feels pretty far ~ and my fortieth birthday, i know, played its pivotal part,

significant because i chose to spend it

alone.

Five years later, its ripple effects are still being felt.

The piece i wrote two years ago, “a rebirth-day story,” sets the stage well-enough, but i actually never wrote about the four days and nights i spent by myself under the wide New Mexico skies. i think there was a part of me that knew i wasn’t quite ready to share, it felt too vulnerable, private; and, that i was still deep in unraveling its lessons that needed to be held close a while longer.

Now is now, though, and i sit nestled inside this birthday winter window of gratitude + reverence for the gift of Life; Elijah’s, for certain. And for the ever-deeper connection i have with mySelf — with my intuition, my dharma, and the courage it takes to act/birth/create when It Is Time (as well as knowing when it is not). As was the theme-lyric of my first-ever post on Substack (three years ago next week!), our journey (and the authentic sharing of it) is our offering.

i am merely a student in the field, reporting in on

the unfoldings of place + poetry,

of steadiness + surrender,

of radical reclamation that is

most-readily available

in solitude.

To Taos we will go then ~

So whilst i revisit my journal, review some books i was absorbing at the time + sparse imagery i ‘captured,’ and finish stitching this tender memoir-esque piece together, i invite you to read and/or listen to part one ~ “a rebirth-day story.” (click on picture)

PS ~ and yes, part two will include the birthday soup recipe 😋

Rooting in the Flow is a place to offer up my unique transmissions, perceptions, and lived experiences. If something is landing with you, i would encourage a free, gifted or paid subscription as a nod towards the “Yes, more of this!” energy that we know feeds authentic, creative expression … encouraging + enriching us all. Round and round we go, friends! Thank you!

but first, a little side-note/confession:

i didn’t always appreciate The Land.

In fact, for the first handful of years with Anthony, i perceived it as just another area to ‘maintain’ that needed focused time + attention, resources, organization. During most of those years we were also up to our eyeballs with massive home renovation movements, all while both of us were working full-time and then some. When we’d come out here, i sorta closed an eye + ear to all that this space wanted from me, us. It was a lot, and i was easily overwhelmed by it.

And then the world slowed waaaaay down in 2020, right in step with a premonition + plan to close my season of working in public education, to release myself from the roles, the hustle, the need or desire to be anyone in particular.

A space was created for stillness, an invitation for recalibration presented.

And quite suddenly, The Land became something More.

For over five years now it has been a holy classroom of unlearning, of deep remembering, of reciprocal nurturing.

An intimacy, a partnership has birthed ~

with Her, within myself;

One and the

Same.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Qualities of Yin:

Softness, slowing down, rest, stillness, darkness, womb/incubation-space, water, intuition, death, quiet, autumn/winter, nurturing, creative, patient, receptive, listening

It is the perfect time of year in which to share this, love-notes-to-self that i’ve collected along the way as i have, little by little, been attuning myself towards greater balance in my inner + outer worlds. We are being fully-embraced by the first wave of yin-season, with nature’s transmissions coming in so clearly, yet are seemingly so difficult to integrate into a world that tells us to ‘yang’ at every moment. This is the incoherence we sense as we head into this part of the cycle where society (family, religion, capitalism etc.) tells us one way to be, while the natural world - that is us - tells us pretty much exactly the opposite.1

A reprogramming is required if we are to feel the somatic effects of being more aligned and in tune with our connection to our deeper-self, others, and Gaia, our living, breathing planet.

Hence the need to plug into frequencies that support this return, this remembrance. For me, this splash of land we steward has offered so much in this realm over the last handful of years.

This is a love letter to anyone who points themselves towards The Land, simple yin-vitations to entertain, if chosen; if the pull, the opening is felt to accept a deeper-yet-subtler way of interacting with the experience of The Land. These have arisen out of my own rounds of prioritizing time here, my years of calling upon this space to work its medicine within me, knowing that it is in my court to create that intention. They speak to The Land’s yin-esque qualities, serving as portals of inner-transformation. i have adamantly, at times, turned toward the oppositional forces of What the World Wants, rebelliously choosing rest, quiet, and solitude here. Perhaps there is a rebel in you that understands this yin-like version of resistance.

Hello, beautiful soul ~

The very “yes” that is drawing you towards The Land is in-itself a powerful messenger. It tells you something about what you are desiring, craving, needing.

Maybe you can name what “this” is;

Maybe it can only be revealed on the flip-side.

Maybe it’s not meant to be named or explained at all.

Maybe the whole point is to feel . . . and to let that be enough.

Whether you will be among many or few, whether your time there extends into two days or three (or more ✨), these are some invitations to explore as you feel inspired.

Before you set-off, take some moments to consider what role you wish your phone to play during this time. Let those in your inner circle know that you’re pointing yourself towards spaciousness, and that might mean some distance from your phone as well. Which means to be even further from those who love you. Maybe verbalize to him/her/them that releasing yourself from the tethers of technology is an act of self-love that feels necessary in order to fully submerge into the vibration you are desiring. Create a space for them to lovingly witness your detachment and trust.

The “getting there” ~ the drive, the journey up, holds its own potency. Try not to over-look this. At a minimum, allow the stretch of Red Canyon Road to be filled with intentional space of musical/lyrical frequencies that align with what you are calling in for this adventure. Or, perhaps this is the stretch where silence gets to be felt, where the tapering-off of stimulation begins.

Wear sandals +/or bring an extra towel for the drive. Plan to make a brief stop just after Dinosaur Flats and across from Cleveland Quarry. There is a lovely little rest-stop on the right with easeful access to Four-Mile Creek, the ribbon of water you’ve been following that also runs through the canyon from our perch on the plateau. Take your shoes off, and give yourself the gift of feeling the (invigorating!!) mountain waters pass over you, to feel her wise, paradoxical teachings of immersion + impermanence, of strength + softness, of fluidity with an orienting force. Breathe and stay in the water as long as you can handle it. When you feel complete, dry your feet, shoe-up, and thank the waters for her gifts and all the life she nourishes in this rocky, desertous terrain.

Let the windy nature of the road, complete with its recommended 15mph-turns, give you the permission to may need to start slowing yourself down. Yes, the excitement to “get there” is real. Yes, i’m certain you could turn that corner at 35mph. Yes, you could accept Google’s projected ETA to the gate as a personal challenge and shave some minutes off by maxing your speed on those straighter-expanses. Try to notice these patternings to push, and create space for allowing. This assists in softening, and emanates a message of “I trust that whenever I arrive, I will be right.on.time.”

Ok, so Shelf Road is imminent, and if you didn’t receive the memo about slowing down, it will swiftly come to you now. Your presence is required in that extra-sort-of way that a single-lane dirt road with a dramatic 300ish-ft drop-off asks. Stay as right as you can and go slow around the blind curves, keep a peripheral awareness to any potential cars approaching on the horizon, and dodge any divots or fallen rocks. If it feels like you’re in good visibility, and there’s an ample-enough spot for another vehicle to pass, consider pausing or even getting out of your car to experience the energy of this landscape in a way that hyper-focused, white-knuckled driving does not permit. Take in the silence, the texture, the way light/shadow play with the topography, the powerful aliveness that lives in the stillness of the rock. The cycles of life and death can be deeply felt in the ancientness of this space, an invitation to feel into the humbleness and preciousness of what it means to be alive.

The GPS will take you to a steel gate, one we share with the Bureau of Land Management. You’re almost there! However we’ve arranged for you to move through it, sense into the beginnings of feeling held here. The gate locks behind us, creating the outer edges of a loose container. No randos are finding their way up, no unexpected surprise visitors. Nobody is just “dropping in.” Feel into the intentionality of placing yourself in this embrace.

The final stretch of road up is its own exhilarating sub-journey. Take it as slow as you need to (except that first switchback - you’ll want to approach that turn with a bit of speed, swinging as right as you can before launching up + left). Just before you approach Cactus Cliffs, stop, turn off your vehicle, and get out. Take in the expanse and glimpse already how far you’ve come. Maybe you’ll spot some human specs scaling the rock walls and/or hear them call out into the echo-y chambers of the canyon. As you resume your upward climb, you’ll then pass through the second gate, and ramble on some bumpier portions of the road. This section is always under a bit of maintenance, as the powerful carving nature of water over the rock tends to foil our efforts of smoothness. Let yourself be jostled around a bit with the remembrance that nature is not to be “controlled.”

As you make that final left turn into the Field, breathe in the vastness that is available here. Do you wish to cozy-in to a spot near camp, or are you wanting a more secluded area to nest yourself? You decide the distance you desire, the space you wish to ‘take up.’ Tune into the edges of your comfort zone on the Spectrum of Aloneness; notice how this simple choice can offer varying versions of experiences

Whether your psuedo-home is a tent, a camper, the top or inside of your vehicle, prepare and tend to it with a certain essence of ceremony. Creating a cocoon-space with care will support a version of deep sleep out here you likely don’t experience much. Or maybe ever.

So, what’s next, now that you’ve landed?

Whatever you need.

This yinvitation, this withinquiry, is so uniquely personal to you ~ what do you need or desire, from moment to moment? There are no expectations, no need for roles or performance.

Ultimately, dear one, you are free here.

Free to experience a version of who you wish to step further into or ‘try on;’ free to put the Hats of Identity aside for a hot minute, or let them dissolve altogether. Nature has no use for the ego-persona.

Free to join in on activities; free to be alone + away from others.

Free to bring language into the moments through dialog or journaling; free to put down the words for a while and allow the purity of silence and presence to permeate.

Free to decide how important it is to “know things” - the clock-time, what’s “happening next,” even the weather “forecast.”

Free to meander, stroll, explore;

free to be still.

Notice.

Listen.

Sense into the spaces where releasing the grip of the mental/verbal habits opens up channels of heightened hearing, sight and smell. Give yourself the freedom to fully indulge in the sensory world, in this elemental playground.

Out in the Field, take a spiral-voyage inward on the meditation path. With each intentional step, feel your breath + body respond to the sweeping, wild winds one minute and impossible stillness the next; the 360-degree grandeur paired with your own precious feet padding the earth.

Find a comfy horizontal place to rest and attend to one simple task: watching the sky in all of its ephemeral-ness, tilting your gaze towards the heavens and all the magic + wisdom that sprinkles down from the clouds and stars.

Take a yoga mat, blanket, water bottle (always bring water), and make a lil solo pilgrimage out to the Edge. Situate yourself carefully on the craggy limestone, and feel into yourself, here on the verge of it All. If you time it well, this is an outstanding perch to receive a rising moon over the canyon. Howl, if you’d like.

As night settles in, consider ways to nurture your body after all that the day has required; the elements and movements made will likely have made some imprints. Grab a pair of clean socks and enjoy a fireside foot-spa bath ~ i’ll heat up some catchment water and bring the Dr. Bronner’s. Let the soothing waters work their cleansing magic, dissolving the dirt, sweat, and anything else that feels ready to be rinsed + released.

Let the darkness naturally draw you towards your bed-space, regardless of what the clock says (i dare you to not look 😉). Feel the syncing of your body with the patterns of the sky + earth, a primal, intuitive rhythm-system that is allowed to be fully-honored out here.

Similarly, allow the morning sun to nudge you awake. Layer-up, if needed, and find a spot out in the field to experience the dawn’s slow, sprawling blanket of light + warmth inch across the layers of landscape as the sun climbs over the ridgeline. It is an active time for the winged ones, too; your quiet stillness + patience will be rewarded.

The time will come, eventually, to begin your return journey home; your humans, animals and work things are likely beckoning you back. The motions of packing and departure will ensue, a reversal of all that was the ‘getting here.’ But before you point yourself south towards the Sangres and let gravity guide you down to the gate, Shelf Road + onward, take a moment to notice: what has shifted within you? Let whatever nods of nourishment + pockets of peace you’ve gathered in your time carry you through these movements. Allow those nuanced noticings to take up residence and ripple out as you reintegrate anew to the outside world.

So drive safely, friend, and send gratitude to your past-self for making this happen, an honoring to your intuitive knowing. Nature truly is the medicine that brings us back home to our own True Nature.

The Land will be here for you when it’s time to return again.

Blessings on your path ahead.

Click on this beautiful capture of Sonya on the Edge to watch a brief video that touches in on the energy of these yinvitations ~

For my beloved subscribers receiving this via email! Being an imagery-dense post, it is recommended to open this in the Substack app or a browser, as some email domains have data limits 👌

Qualities of Yang: physical, external, action, focus, direction, planning, strength, energetic/lively, fire/heat, birth/creation, spring/summer

It’s pretty safe to say that we all know how to “yang” pretty well; our culture ensures we’re well-conditioned to keep it movin.’ The Land, too, has seen its share of creative exploration, high-adrenaline play, and demands a certain physicality that is just part of the elemental experience there.

In the ten years that Anthony had the land prior to my entrance in his life, he set after his dreams that i spoke of in my last piece, celebrate we will. Time was spent scouting all corners of the forty acres + weighing the criteria. Anthony finally landed on the best spot to set up a semi-permanent camp that offered incredible views, was sort of tucked away under a canopy of taller pines, but also offered easy access to the Field. He soon built a simple 12x8-ft structure for storage + sleeping purposes, aka, The Shack. Soon after came the kitchen island, a masonry + tile adventure that also housed a (needed) bear-proof storage cabinet. This area still serves as our main “camp,” minus several of those glorious pines that i never got to see due to the beetles’ invasion over the years.

The Play + the Creations

Being an avid rock-climber, the faces of Shelf Road have provided endless options for Anthony. He bolted his own 5.7-5.11 routes right off The Edge, what we call the closest cliff that overlooks Four Mile Creek and the Shelf Road valley 200 feet below. There have been many family + friends who’ve gotten their first taste of “real” rock climbing under Anthony’s lead + guidance. He loves sharing this experience with anyone interested in bravely giving it a go in this climbing cathedral. It serves as a dramatic place to face fears, challenge yourself, while absorbing the waves of the canyon’s humbling + vibrant grandeur.

Over the years Anthony also developed an 18-hole disc golf course, a path that marries well with the wildish curvature of the land, and offers up some fairly epic views along the way. The course has been enjoyed by many of those in Anthony’s local Ultimate Frisbee community, or anyone who, like me, might travel along for the good hike that it is. Wear some sturdy shoes tho; it can get pokey out there.

Two ATVs have provided endless hours of excitement over these years. i fully admit — i love riding them. There is a sturdiness of having four wheels wrangling the terrain that feels necessary since i’m not much into the two-wheeled version. They serve a rather vital role in commuting over the mile-ish of road down to the gate, have supported exploration adventures in the extended area, and have given many of our beloved visitors a chance to experience “driving” in a seriously fun way, including Anthony’s parents, and the younger folks like Elijah and his cousins + friends. There is that release, that sense of freedom, and riding that edge of ‘safe’ that can feel risky-intoxicating. AJ, Anthony’s bestie for almost thirty years, has greeted this threshold often, as glimpsed in this fun video i stitched together of four-wheeler shenanigans over the past two decades (click the picture).

In the time before my intercept, Anthony created the Death Ray, an old satellite dish covered in hand-cut mirror tiles, acting as a literal sun-fire-gatherer. Why, one might ask? A two-part response ~ because he could - he was (and is) very imaginative, curious + determined enough, and had the skill (+ free satellite dish) to make it happen. Also, his original vision was to create a heat source for the hot tub. Yep, a hot tub - heated by water moving through the Death Ray’s pipes where the mirrors direct the sun’s potency. While this vision has yet to fully manifest, the Death Ray is in ready-mode! Until then, it serves as a solid science lesson, the occasional trippy photo accomplice, as well as a soooper cool party trick1. The Death Ray even played a significant role in a lil summer solstice celebration called Sunchaser. More on that later. 🔥

Artistic expressions are ever-more becoming a part of our spaces on the Land, a nod towards nature’s creation-vibration that we are submerged in out there. These expressions are the embodied understanding of who we are as co-creators, fractal reflections of Life itself, beautifully epitomized in the Death Ray.

When my tween-age nieces came out in the summer of 2021 from Wisconsin for a week of Colorado Cousin Camp, we spent a few days on the Land. Along with all the ATV riding, rock-climbing and games played, i guided a tile mosaic tabletop project on a giant spool, each of them uniquely decorating one quarter of the circle (an endeavor i would finally finish two years later 🙃). This table currently is serving as a prime surface in our camp kitchen out there, but the vision is for it to be fully maneuverable anywhere else we’d want an instant sturdy+beautiful resting spot.

We’ve also begun a rather material-dense journey of building a seven-foot bottle-wall shower. Many hundreds of bottles have been gathered, lots of them cut down to their required four-inch size, quite a few are ready-to-go “bottle-blocks,” and some have even been embedded in the first two layers. It is a lot of labor, so we were thrilled to have our first community work-flow experience when a few friends helped us last summer to get our initial layer cemented in. We’ve got a long way to go, but i feel optimistic about prioritizing this project’s acceleration next year. Standing in a rather large, circular shower space with sunshine filtering through not only the array of colored bottles, but a piece or two of my stained glass . . . well, we’re ready for that magical experience!

One of my personal favorite arenas of “doing” on the Land is nature-scaping. Over time, i have slowly been co-creating with natural, found elements to add both function + purpose while elevating beauty and whimsy to spaces around our camp. Gathering rocks of all sizes, foraging for uniquely twisted branches, and amassing a variety of felled elements are both an act of productivity and meditation. Pathways are given definition for clear + easeful traversing, community spaces and campsites offered distinction, while i also get to collaborate with nature’s wild variety of texture, color, size and stories of time and elemental forces. From fossilized limestone to pine cones still sticky with fresh sap, i weave their timelines together in these acts of loving adornment upon the land. This is for certain a happy space for me to Be.

There are, on occasion, some small stretches of terrain where other materials are employed to create said pathways. Over the years we’ve been collecting bowling balls at thrift stores; but not just any bowling balls — only the ones with names engraved on them. This colorful array lines the outer edges of our camp; we lovingly refer to them as The Neighbors, giving each ball their own personality, complete with storylines ranging relationship dramas to managing existential crises. Helen is in rough shape these days.

i’ll close this piece with a recent creation that bridges well with the upcoming post about the Land’s yin essence. In a further-out space in the Field, i had noted for the last several years that there is a large distinctive patch of stalky grass growing that visually stands out as greener on the horizon, and whose area seemed to be roughly-circular. When we captured an aerial view of its shape with the drone earlier this summer, it was round enough for me to green-light myself towards a vision i’ve had: creating a spiral-shaped meditation walking path. i do not take the power of my electric push-mower lightly. i lean more towards “live and let live,” and that includes where i choose to clip the ground foliage; it is a miracle to watch what wishes to grow in these elements atop this rocky plateau. As i carefully carved this path, i sent gratitude to the Land for offering up this intentional space. There is so much potency in melding the inward journey under the vortexy-vastness of the sky, held in the embrace of the mystery, unfolding with every step taken.

Thanks for sharing in these moments of celebrating some bits of the Land’s yang-ness of the last twenty years, and stay tuned for the counterpart piece, Yin-vitations.

While there has been no shortage of writing inspirations these past weeks of summer’s finale, i elected to remain present + in the flow of Life. Small moments layered with big ones, adventures and awarenesses unfurling on the external and internal planes, feeling abundance in all its many forms swim around me.

Even (especially?) when the Muchness of the world can seem weighty, i am in the practice of anchoring further into not only gratitude, but celebration. Autumn seems to emphasize the urgency to carpe the diem, and revel in the fleeting beauty we are graced with. Perhaps Dave Matthews’ Two Step played its role, embedding it into me well-enough during college dayz of singing + dancing ~

“Celebrate we will,

cause life is short but sweet for certain.”

Twenty years ago this season, nine years prior to my entrance in his life, Anthony made the decision to purchase land. At thirty-three years young, it was a nod to his desire for a space to express himself creatively, a place to climb epic rock faces, as well as, yes, a worthy financial investment. Forty acres of Colorado high-desert landscape on a limestone plateau in the Front Range of the Rockies has been a vibrant backdrop of Anthony’s life for the last two decades, and mine and Elijah’s for almost eleven years now.

We decided to host a fall camping weekend this October as a way to celebrate the gifts of what this land has given us and so many others over the years. i want to honor this moment in time by sharing some stories + imagery with you ~ how we have played in and with the magic that lives there, as well as plant some seeds for future visioning.

Even as we look at each other today, planning for time out there in these coming weeks + hosting a gathering, we are constantly faced with the fine balance of focused movement, productivity + steps-towards-goals, alongside the call to restore, play, relax, explore. We always have a handful of projects in some stage of the process, continuously a need or inspiration to improve systems or structures. Always ideas for The More (Rotating Bed in the Field is still in the Top 10…perhaps 2026 is the year..?).

And -

It is a concerted practice for us to know when it’s time to not only shift our “doing” into play-mode, but give ourselves the gift of slowness, stillness, and solitude. Of finding enoughness in the simplicity of the fire’s heat, the vastness of the night skies, the clarity in the birdsong, the companionship of the sun and wind.

So over the next week or two, i’ll be framing my offerings this way - crafting (at least) two pieces, one that speaks to the yang-esque lens of The Land ~ the creating, the activity, the larger gatherings, and another that attempts to capture the more nuanced, ethereal gifts of this portal-space from a yin perspective.

As i wrote in my first piece about The Land last year, we have both deeply felt - always and ever-increasingly-so - that this land is to be shared.

That whomever finds themselves there will receive what they need, whatever that may be for them. It might be the thrill of jumping on a 4-wheeler and cruising the trails, bravely scaling world-class rock walls, or embarking on Anthony’s 18-hole disc golf course-adventure.

Or it could be laying on the earth, dancing by the fire in the field, marveling at the poetry of every sunrise and sunset that plays upon the mountains near + far. It could be a sense of cozy community that is someone’s medicine; it could be the lack of humans that answers the call of need.

It might be all of it.

We know the juice found out there, and we are always so honored to offer the invitation for others to taste it for themselves.

So come along for some stories, enjoy some pictures and video captures as we celebrate the simplicity + grandeur of our very special second homespace.

While Elijah is now standing taller than me now, it speaks to the momma-swirls i am (once again) in. i also am intending on going through my first year-or-so of posts and recording audio versions of them; this piece is one i voiced this morning after Elijah drove away to school, the vocalization of the prayer feeling freshly in tune with my current stirrings ~

Here is the link to the original post, if you’d like to read/listen, or just hit play to hear the audio version now.

Peaches + heart prayers

Our weekend cottage guests, Carson and Dee, were in town from Oklahoma for a wedding at the Broadmoor, so i had a feeling they’d likely appreciate the text i sent this morning:

It wasn’t until after 11am (our scheduled check-out time) that i received notification that Carson had read the message, and also replied back with thankfulness. As i roamed through the house doing light Sunday tending to laundry, organization, and weekly list-making, i heard our guests packing up their truck. i stepped outside to say hello and embrace the chance to have a connective intercept with them. Turns out they indeed had such a “blast” that they didn’t even wake up until 11, so the ability to transition out in an unhurried fashion was deeply welcomed.

“i wish everyone slow mornings, as many as we can create for ourselves,” i said to them upon receiving their gratitude for the extension. “Any time that i don’t have a same-day check-in, i always want to be a part of supporting that for our guests; again, if your timeline allows for it.”

This has been the most simple-yet-impactful aspect of my life-rhythm shift, stepping out of the “grind” ~ shaping my days from a place of balanced Doing/Producing with the investment of slow-morning energy. So many years of my life i was working (in my head) before i even got out of bed, thrust into the go-go-go energy of the day’s directives. Nervous system and pace of motion in hyper-drive before the sun rose; mind taking the reins and my body along for the ride. Whether it was during our restaurant years, my decade in education, or promptly delivering Elijah to school when he was with me, slow mornings were few + far between as the days were long and asked much.

These last several years, i have been granted the opportunity to experience the inverse, where fewer are the mornings that demand instant movement and immediate, multi-human interactions, and more-frequently are the days where i get to truly honor what it means to gently re-emerge into my mind/body/spirit. It is one of my greatest gratitudes, of getting to know myself from this angle, too ~ one that supports the understanding that wrapping care around our daily transitions is an act of self-love, the transition from sleep to wakefulness being, in my opinion, the most important (evening transition being a close 2nd). This is something i’ve had to adamantly teach (..and re-teach) myself. When i can anchor into my own energy sphere before stepping into the Wilds, i feel that it sets me up for a highly intentional day, not just in the What (cottage cleaning, grocery shopping for weekly soup ingredients, makerspace appointment, going to Elijah’s away soccer game), but in the How; in the manner i wish to show up, in the energetic imprint i wish to bring into whatever i do and the Beings i coincide with during the day. And on the days that call for that familiar quick-footing, it is a contrasting experience that i welcome, one that feels manageable and simply more in balance.

So yes ~ to Carson and Dee, and all our cottage guests on these days when the calendar isn’t quite so stacked:

take it slow this morning, if you can.

The buttery bamboo sheets and down comforter

are happy to cocoon you a bit longer;

the French press and yin-yang clock are also in favor

of stretching your time a little further,

before you transition out of the cottage’s care

and onto your next adventure.

And you too, dear reader:

wherever you have the opportunity to weave slow(-er) mornings into your world,

and/or support someone else’s,

i hope you do.

i’m revisiting some drafts lately, giving them the opportunity to be loved-on a bit, maybe shared here ~

i wrote this piece back in March, just after Anthony was released from/left his job.

For over a year prior, there had been an awareness building that this role + routine needed to shift. His spirit was often depleted, energy banks low. The money was coming,

but what was the Cost?

i sensed his waning vitality, a predictable-but-horrific side-effect of the Machine that wants to grind + squeeze out every ounce of life-force we’ve got.

i had been/am edging further into my creative re-evolution, weaving numerous mediums, opening passage-ways for abundance to flow through creative expressions/manifestations…and doubling-down on surrendering to Trust.

Here were my words for him ~

☀—☀—☀—☀—☀—☀—☀—☀

What happens if we just let go?

Let go of the mind’s illusions of safety, of control, of security?

What happens if we just allow each day to reveal the magic that is always here, which is always Now,

in this present moment?

It is a time of deep trusting, my love.

A time to lean into the unknown and allow your heart to guide the way forward.

Your mind will come along, for certain; but its role is changing.

You are opening a channel where you are permitting

sensing,

intuiting, and

responding

to lead the way;

where the mind serves the truths of your heart,

where your dreams have all the legroom needed to stretch out and take up space.

Because it is a time of dreaming, of speaking the heart’s longings with conviction and urgency.

We are always waking up to the remembrance that

this is all.so.very.impermanent,

that nothing is guaranteed;

that our fear can constrict us,

or we can enable it to show us where we are still not free,

so that we can tend to those aspects within

as the greatest act of love we have yet experienced.

You have said yes to this trajectory, this path that dances outside the ‘norm,’ this way of Being that gives Love the reins and says, “I can’t go wrong.”

No, darling.

No, you can’t.

When Elijah was seven or so we were exiting the grocery store and heading into the busy parking lot, me pushing the cart just a bit ahead of him. After a few moments i turned around to check on him and saw him walking behind me with his eyes closed.

OMG.

“Elijah! What are you doing?!? Open your eyes!” He’d always been a pretty careful kid, so this was pretty shocking to see.

But . . . i should’ve known ~

“It’s ok, mom,” he tells me. “I was using The Force to find the car.”

Obviously, Star Wars had been infiltrating his world at the time, and wanted to give this whole Force thing a go of his own. i couldn’t help but smile, then laugh, THEN explain that a grocery store parking lot at 5pm is not a good place to practice this.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

i’ve been closing my eyes more these days.

i’m four weeks into a re-commitment of a morning sadhana practice, a meditation time. A bold and necessary thing during this height of summer’s yang productivity + motion; during this Time when we wonder if any amount of “doing” can possibly tilt the world towards more love, compassion, humanity.

i have had spurts of these morning commitments to myself over the last several years. i fall out of them for the obvious (and annoyingly repetitive) reason: i believe that someone or something else is more important than reconnecting to my higher Self/the Divine Source within . . . basically That Which is Not a Role/ego/persona. There is always a task (or twenty) to tend to, there is usually a human or animal who desires my attention, there is a fear of “getting behind”; there has been judgement about the value of this use of time vs. my worth as A Producer.

What i have been playing with, observing, is the grand experiment of What If? What if i just go ahead and give myself that time, elevate its importance, then what? What if i begin, yet again (with compassion, not judgement), during a season when oh-so-much calls me every morning, tempting me to slide into the well-practiced Do-er that i am? What if i double-down on the value of what it feels like to emerge into all that useful doing and beautiful relating from a place of more-centeredness, more alignment? Then what?

i am reporting in from the “then-what,” a space that feels like the eye of the hurricane, a certain flavor of The Force within me that is somehow able to Be With the felt-experience of being human while also remaining rooted enough to not get swept into the raging currents of fear, separation, projection. When i offer myself the gift of returning to stillness each morning, of moving gratitude thru mantra and tears, of honoring the divine wisdom of the infinite that is embedded within me, i am beautifying my inner home-space. The more i touch-in with this peace-field and come to feel its energy inside me, the more acutely-aware and sensitive i am becoming to energy/frequency in general. It helps me refine my boundaries of what “gets in,” who i share my space with, who receives the gift of my time + offerings. So when i do, the intention that flows thru my attention is crystalline and True.

It also serves as a path of bringing consciousness into the knowing that every.single.day is a rebirth-day, every morning a reminder of the freshness that is available to me, if i choose to inhabit that lens. i get to bring in to today what i desire from Before (yesterday, last week, last year) and practice releasing what need not come along; i get to metabolize it in such a way that today (yes, this mundane every-day) receives and deserves the highest expression of all that i’ve experienced, learned, alchemized.

i grew up taking on the dysregulated emotions of adults around me, of believing that their emotional state was something for me to manage/balance/fix. Because it was a part of subconscious coping tools to stay safe, of being perceived as “useful” and equating that with love. i have come to understand how this early imprinting has affected various relationship dynamics, and has really catalyzed a path of getting clear about what is “mine” . . . . and all that is NOT. Of learning to truly build, little by little, a sanctuary within. The ritual of giving myself time every morning to plug firmly into my own energy field before entwining with others’ is creating an ever-stronger foundation.

Often during the day, i find myself dropping my eyelids for some moments, touching in with that foundation –

when i am receiving a vulnerable transmission from a friend;

when the elements encourage me to release the visual realm and feel into the magical interplay of the westerly wind in my hair, the sun’s radiance on my skin, chattery birdsong and fluttering leaves filling my ears;

when i am (sometimes courageously) conveying a felt-truth to a partner, and know that it needs to fluidly be expressed before i “take in” their reaction/response (and yes, visual body language is a piece of this).

Returning inward throughout the day is a nod, an honoring of my early-morning act of devotion + self-love. It is up to me to bring that awareness along, to see the arc of each day as the integration field, of greeting the small, imperceptible moments as the curriculum that it is.

What does embodying love look + sound like in this moment of discord?

What does it mean to bring more presence into this intercept?

How might i make room for the mystery and all i don’t know in this scenario?

How can i bring a balanced mind-heart perspective into how i approach this issue?

While i’m not inclined to walk through a busy parking lot with my eyes shut, thirty days “in” and the subtle-yet-potent shifts and ripples are discernible. As i glimpse into the human-relational fields i play in, the various spaces i tend to, the mediums that move through my hands, the voice that is speaking through me these days, i observe an energy of courageous self-honoring, where i experiment with refining inner + outer attunement, and lean into the deep gnowing that when we consistently touch in with the love we are, that IS loving another.

In closing, i will offer you this song ~ it is how i seal my morning sadhana each day.

Long Time Sun

May the long time sun

shine upon you

All love surround you

And the pure light

within you

Guide your way

On.

Sat Naam

🙏💛

i spent this past Tuesday afternoon lightly preparing our sweet cottage rental space ~ i had just received notification of a weekend booking, so i had a few more days to do the final round of cleaning and detailing. Within these days, i had decided to take on the project of giving the front patio deck tiles their thorough, annual facelift, relieving them of a year’s gathering of debris + caked-on mud. Elijah was relocating all the long, fat worms that had found their way underneath, when i received a message from Justin on my Air Bnb app:

“My son (10 years old) and I decided to take a spur of the moment trip to do the Manitou Incline and see Pike's Peak and your place looks so wonderful! I know we are booking same day so let me know if that does not work for you? Also, we are starting from Kansas City in about an hour so we won't get there until 12-2 am. Thank you!”

i did a self-check-in ~ what would it mean to say yes to this request? Do i have capacity tonight to make this happen for this adventurous father + son duo? i thanked myself for preparing what i did that day, and decided that they would likely not care (or even notice) that the front stoop was sub-par. If that was my only hesitation (read: my personal standards of beauty), i could make that shift within myself; i wanted to support this dad on his mission. i accepted Justin’s request, threw down an extra rug over the unsightly concrete slab, and called it good. The cottage got a final vacuuming and wipe-down before i left for my monthly Writer’s Coven gathering for the evening, knowing that i still had plenty of time afterwards for final touches. When i returned a few hours later, i prepared for their late-night/early-morning arrival: closed all the blinds and curtains so they’d have a better-chance at sleeping in, toggled all the lamps low on their dimmers, made sure the pull-out bed had linens, double-checked the key-code for accuracy, and turned on the outside light, imagining the relief of pulling up to the cottage after the marathon-of-a-drive.

As our bedroom window lines the guest driveway, i heard them roll in, thankful for their safe journeying. i got up to pee since i was awake, affirmed they got inside ok, and fell back asleep, silently wishing them both deep rest.

As it goes with many of our guests, i didn’t see them much due to their action-packed explorations. At around 8pm, the tired-but-fulfilled pair tumbled out of their Jeep as i was still in backyard gardening mode with the expanding light of the June evening. We easily dropped into some sweet conversation over our pallet partition-fence, Justin sharing highlights of the day from his “dad-lens:” Chris enthusiastically leaping out of bed at 8am that morning, excited for the day’s adventuring (despite the minimal sleep they were on); the epic journey up The Manitou Incline, complete with an afternoon downpour; the impromptu decision to put a pin on a mountain road and navigate there together. i learned that Justin is a middle school social studies teacher in Kansas City, so we briefly chatted about our mutual experiences working in education. i expressed my gladness for their choice to stay with us and my admiration for their spirit of spontaneity. i adore the opportunity to connect with our guests for this very reason ~ to feel our shared human-ness, to offer a chance to intercept as beings on our respective paths, all within the context/container our beloved little cottage. We said our goodbyes, as they’d be heading out early for yet another grand drive up to the summit of Pike’s Peak (or Tava, the Ute name, meaning Sun Mountain), and we all turned in for the night.

As i gathered the bedding and towels the next day after their departure, i glanced at our guestbook. Between the slim moments of actually residing within the cottage, and being in adventure-dad mode, it seemed unlikely that anything would be written in it. But i looked anyway, and was wholly-surprised to find Justin’s sweet words:

Summer can definitely radiate a spirit of wild possibility, especially for a teacher and ten-year-old just released from the grip of the school-year’s stacked schedule. As we hedge toward solstice and the days stretch ever-longer, may this little account of a father seizing the moment and just going for it inspire you to (also) make this a summer of spontaneity as well.

My new-ish friend Sonya sat across from me at our kitchen island on a starkly frigid January morning this past winter. Our hoped-for hike would wait for a sunnier day, so hot tea, muffins and the fireplace it was. At sixty-five, with flowing silvery-angelic hair and eyes that can see right into me, Sonya was fast-becoming a dear sister, a gentle witness, a fairy godmother, a co-conspirator of all things creation. Sonya’s talents, experiences and contributions to the collective range far and wide, her spirit and passion moving thru all that she offers. This particular morning at our regular Thursday connection time, she was somewhat-timidly sharing her over-all weariness and frustration with the challenges of what it means to be in a fulltime caregiver role for her dear husband Tim, along with tending to all the other home-work-life needs. The Parkinson’s disease that was slowly shutting down his body had recently seemed to accelerate. Digesting food properly was hit-or-miss, and his sensitivities/aversions were always in flux. It was a vulnerable share for her; she’s not a complainer. This was just a Really Hard Time. She very much wanted to give more attention to cooking/preparing the healthiest food possible, but that felt like a weighty task along with everything else she was needing to give energy + time to.

My hand rested on my heart while i listened, feeling into where she was at, what she was holding. i was also hearing the voice within me that said

You can help here. Just put it out there. This is That Moment where you lean in and say yes, because it FEELS right, because we’re here to play in the energy-love exchange game, and this is that EXACT ‘kind’ of scenario, she is the PERFECT human.

So i suggested we explore an arrangement where i prepare some food items for her and Tim on a weekly basis, accommodating his dietary needs to the best of my ability, and we’d go from there. i was already developing a mental list of recipes i knew would align. Sonya was genuinely shock-thrilled at this proposition; she had slowly been tasting my food over the last several months, hearing about “my Naturally’s days,” and even snapping some pics of me in action ;-)

She had also been hearing me speak here and there about my complex relationship with the kitchen/food. The near-decade i spent putting in the long hours with our family health food store + restaurant took its toll on my body, and the elixir of:

the mid-west work-to-feel-worthy mentality,

the ‘prove yourself’ energy of my 20’s,

and the sheer passion of wanting our family endeavor to be successful while supporting the health of our communities,

well . . . . my boundaries were wobbly at best.

Fourteen years later, an entire other career on the in-betweens, i have gained some awarenesses and am strengthening muscles of inner + outer alignment - giving space to really consider my capacity + authentic desire, and make decisions from there. Not from a place of people-pleasing, of over-extending/sacrificing myself, or because it is just logistically feasible. This means i am practicing the Full-Fuck Yes and the Sacred No - really listening to, and responding from, a place of love, not fear. Trusting that i can make decisions that better-support a balanced existence. It is not easy to unravel the programs of scarcity/fear + identification with money that we’ve all been told Is The Way; i knew that this would be a chance for me to further-transmute old stories and embody some new practices.

So while Sonya knew that my invitation was True, she also knew i was dabbling in the very territory that had historically challenged me. i ensured her that what i’d be making for her and Tim would largely be an extension of what i was already in motion of creating — soups, various salads, wraps/sandwiches, baked goods. i let her know that i would communicate my needs, as i asked her to do the same, and we would dynamically be open to how this unfolds.

Because i do love creating the nourishing food for the people…

i just knew that i didn’t want to “do it” like i’ve done before.

So we agreed on the weekly exchange of $88 for some meal items that would lighten her load a bit, bring simple sensory pleasures, and offer some added love+nutrient-rich goodness to both her and Tim’s bodies as they move through these life-waves together. Each Monday afternoon they swing by and pick up their goodies; Tim stays in the car while Sonya swaps out last week’s emptied glassware with the refreshed bounty ~

Cuban black bean soup. Smoked salmon wraps with shredded carrots, beets, feta and dill dressing. Pumpkin-flax bread. Millet salad with dates, sesame, and sweet potatoes. Savory split pea soup. Chocolate peanut butter protein bars (Tim’s favorite).

We briefly exchange our life’s current movements + feelings, share our respective gratitudes, and i help her load up the car + say hello to Tim.

It wasn’t long before i decided to expand on the idea of “what i was already in the motion of,” and gently opened up the opportunity for others to buy jars of soup each week. i sent a text to a few neighbors + friends, put up a Facebook post, and allowed a space for abundance to flow.

Anthony was preparing to step away from the high-paying job that had been supporting us, and i was feeling the urge to engage more in the money game. As i said — preparing food as a full-time venture was not a path i wanted to take again. i did that already. But it is one path that feeds into an evolving vision of multiple sources of income, it aligns with my heart + my gifts, and we have been building the most beautiful kitchen space in which to create, elevating the vibration that gets transmitted through my food.

Before i knew it, i had a small following of friends who ordered from me each week ~

Andy, our neighbor over the back fence, who often bicycles or strollers-over with one or both of his little boys to pick up his jar. i love that Andy and his wife hang their laundry out to dry on the clothesline; somehow it seems to align that picking up soup made by neighbors is on par for them. Perhaps i’m drawn to people who are choosing a more meditative path despite the pace we’re encouraged to ‘go’ at.

Lori, a past teacher-colleague of mine whose enthusiasm for anything i create is through roof. She tends to get one of everything, and then also stops in to see what stained glass piece of mine she wants next.

Drew, my upcycling-techy-entrepreneur friend who also tends to get both/all of what i’m cooking up to spice + supplement the often-Costco-driven meal roteness. i usually connect with him as our paths cross at the makerspace where we easily drop into conversations about The Deeper Things while exchanging jars of African Sweet Potato and Spring Minestroni for some cash.

Amy, a fellow soccer mom of (3!!) teenage boys and new-ish soul-sister. Amy has recently decided to occasionally integrate my soups into her post-psychadelic journeying sessions with clients, a nod to the needed re-rooting nourishment after moving through layers of healing.

Beth, a member of the womxn’s drumming group i’ve been gathering with for a year now, is gluten + dairy free, and whose past also includes a chapter of stewarding a health food store, creating an easeful alignment of quality, love-laden foods.

i’ve been bringing extra jars with me to drumming where the ladies gather round to hear what kinds of “exotic” soup varieties i made this time, several of them paying me more than i asked for.

i’ve been wanting to write this piece for a while, feeling extra-inspired on Mondays when i’m scooping ladels of Creamy Herbed Potato or Red Lentil + Coconut into jars with the afternoon sun pouring in just as fluidly, labeling lids with blue painters tape and a black sharpie. As i write each person’s name, i really think about how this simple amalgamation of ingredients will greet them in the moment they sit down to bring it In. i think about all the people i have ever given a jar of soup to, dropped it on their doorstep when they were sick, delivered it to their table at Naturally’s. There is a rich, comforting quality to something so simple as a warm bowl of soup - it reaches parts of us the way a good hug can feel.

Cooking days are long, and often still hard on my body ~ but i’m grateful to be able to touch this channel of abundance in this way, at this time. $15-20 jars of soup isn’t going to be a sole mortgage-payer, but it feeds into the greater field of abundance that Anthony + i both are actively choosing to cultivate. To play the “what if” game around how we look at valuing the minutes/moments/days of our lives.

Not long after i began cooking for Sonya and Tim, Amy (my she-partner) was working at the kitchen island while i was adding chopped tomatoes to my cookpot. Amy’s growing transaction management company for real estate agents was booming; she had been putting in the long, hard hours for the last couple years. “Wow!” she said, out of the blue, likely assessing some spreadsheet. “I’m making two thousand dollars today!” i gently stirred in some fresh herbs, turned the heat down, and replaced the lid. “That is amazing, love,” i said. “Truly, you’ve worked hard to get here.” While i really was (and am) elated for her financial plentitude that is flowing more freely these days, her proclamation hit me hard. It reminded of me of what i’m “supposed to” want, what i’m “supposed to” chase until i’m so sick, exhausted, and disconnected from any sense of vitality or joy. i looked down into my generous pot of Italian Vegetable, colors popping from yellow squash, orange peppers, green specs of chopped basil, and thought to myself, “i’m making $88 today.” In one fell swoop, i could easily see how she was “winning,” how according the frame we are given about the story of “Living Successfully,” she was ‘on top.’

Forty-five minutes later, i stood with Sonya in our front-entry room after she had loaded up her crate, handling each jar + container with such love and appreciation. She earnestly looked at me in the eyes after a moment, tears welling in her own, and said, “This is the best thing that’s happened to us in a really long time.” i gave her another long hug, and felt everything i needed in that moment.

Abundance comes in many forms, my friends. i believe that our rebellion, in a world where everything and everyone seems to be monetized in some way, we are invited to get curious about and develop a different, deeper relationship with what it means to live abundantly. There is a modern sickness most of us have inherited called “Not Enough” which keeps us groping towards some point in the future, when the attainment, the accumulation, the lusting hustle for That Which Is Not Now takes us over and we miss the abundance that is

right

here,

Right.Now.

The remedy to this consumer-driven, anxiety-producing malady is simple: slow down. If we slow down enough, we are able to see the riches we seek are not what we thought we required, even wanted. We can understand that currencies of exchange are broader than we’ve been shown. We are reunited with the power of our own creative essence, and recognize how the desctructive capitalist paradigm can only survive as long as we keep feeling disconnected from ourselves, from one another, from nature.

So i wish you simple abundance, where+whenever this may find you, the abundance that reaches into your inner-knowing about what really matters, the abundance that cannot necessarily be bought or sold, the wealth that lives in a certain contentment of the enoughness that this moment (already) holds.

i wrote the bulk of this piece last month; as i returned to it for further + final revising, i decided to keep it in the real-time tense of the moment i initially wrote it in ~

Today my son Elijah drove off for school on his first solo adventure after yesterday’s highly-anticipated appointment at the DMV. Between his dad + me, we’ve logged 89 hrs, 16 minutes and 32 seconds this last year of witnessing him, guiding him, entrusting him . . . and releasing him.

When he was a baby, it was letting him explore-crawl down the mostly-vacant beach on South Padre Island (where we lived), as far as he would feel comfortable, pausing and glancing back at me occasionally as if to see if he could keep going. i would calmly smile at him from my spot on the sand, and with a glimmer in his eye, he’d take off again.

When Elijah was a toddler, it was watching him shimmy up a tree while i sat on the park bench watching, as navigating the terrain of the canopy usually enticed him more than playground equipment. Nearby parents would see him up high and frantically look around for the responsible adult, so I would assure them he’s with me, and that he’s ok.

When he was five, it was a visit to Garden of the Gods with my sister + niece, where Elijah scaled up a prominent rock-face when i wasn’t looking for a few moments. i was honestly both a little freaked out. . . . and, also quietly amused, impressed, and over-all glad that he felt so confident within himself. Pretty sure a visit to the climbing gym was made shortly thereafter.

i suppose it’s something i’ve been practicing for a while, this achingly paradoxical knowing that love is (actually) setting that person free. As a parent, i’ve always been keenly aware of how my own fear could easily be transposed unto my kid. We normalize worrying (fear), call it love, but really it is a stifling sense of distrust – in the child, in their own capacity to trust themselves, in the greater Universal/soul unfoldings that live beyond our cognitive “knowing.” i chose, from early on, to give Elijah abundant space to be free – from fear-based grasping, constrictive power dynamics, or any other ego-traps that linger in the parenting realm (there are many).

The most difficult release by far was when his dad and i parted ways when Elijah was six. During that season of transitioning, it was my most fervent prayer that our decision would not have overly-negative impacts in his life. i wanted him to know his mother – explicitly, vibrationally - as someone who is not afraid to lean in to divine trust and take courageous, intuitive leaps with Life. i wanted him to know his mother as someone who is calm yet energized; motivated and also knows how to rest; soft and disciplined; generous but with loving boundaries. i just knew that by elevating my inner commitment to my path, my healing, was, in fact, profoundly mothering him; that the very energy i brought into his presence would be present, high frequencies of love, because i was raising the bar with my own Self-honoring. i was also aware that by knowing me as a woman who deeply respected herself in these ways, he would (sub-/un-/consciously) seek relationships in life with humans who would likely reflect aspects of who i am.

Ultimately, i wanted to know myself, and i wanted him to know his mother, as a woman who was awake and alive. The environment of my marriage did not support what i knew i needed next.

The exchange, the price to pay, the cost of this decision?

Elijah’s time, his life, divided into two, half of which i was not – am not – physically present.

Even for all the ways i had been intensely loving him with space to Be, it was the biggest pain i’ve known, stepping into that reality.

i remember when his dad moved out, i took Elijah to a kids yoga class taught by my dear friend, Mia. After animal-based poses and sound effects, moving games and stillness games, we rested in savasana next to each other on our mats while Israel Kamakawiwo'ole' strummed his ukelele and sang “Somewhere Over the Rainbow.” Elijah reached his little hand out and rested it in mine as we laid there, while hot tears silently spilled down the sides of my face. i could sense a chapter of his innocence transitioning, our connection to each other getting wider-yet-deeper.

It was then that i knew i had to surrender to Trust ~

Trust in his father to create environments where he would feel safe + loved.

Trust that whomever his dad brought into Elijah’s life, she could see him for the miracle he is.

Trust that the grief would soften.

Trust that my time without him in my direct care would serve to nourish us both in unexpected ways.

Trust that my choices with humans in my inner circle would be complementary to what Elijah may need + to honor the unique connections they have with him.

Trust that greater-tribe would continue to grow around us and bring us back to the remembering of our interdependence - that all the kids are all Our kids… and we don’t have to do this alone.

Trust that this experience, these perspectives in his life, would amplify a broader understanding of family, love, relationships.

Trust that his soul (also) signed up to rock n roll with me/us in these ways.

In the summer of 2018, when Elijah was nine and on an extended road trip with his dad whilst i enjoyed the release from the school year, i wrote this contemplation in my journal as a nod to that current moment, and also the vaster experience:

Who is a mother without her child?

Whose drum does she dance to,

to whom does she answer?

When given the space, the time, the freedom,

how does she spend those moments?

Can she remember who she is?

Can she imagine herself to be complete without him?

He is always near, yes.

He is.

She accepts this offering of time, this extended inhale and exhale,

to feed the girl, the woman,

the creator, the explorer,

the friend, sister, mother of others,

the mystic, the seeker, the nourisher of much and many.

The quality of her love for him when he returns

will be all-the-richer for it.

Elijah now stands taller than me, broad and strong, confident and kind, perceptive and silly, articulate and sensitive. A playful big brother to his dad + step-mom’s four littles. Someone who still wants to give long morning hugs, read together, and sing Madonna’s “Like a Prayer” with me while driving.

i am deeply grateful to call his step-mom friend, a woman who, yes, has been seeing and loving Elijah for years now. i am thankful to have the opportunity to love on her kids as well, as we both (from our respective places) nurture the vision of expanded-family, her older ones calling me MommaLaura. Elijah gets to observe all of us adults from various vantage points, to see us each at a bit of a distance, which helps him see us better as whole individuals, not limited to roles of just dad + mom-people. He gets to experience what it means to be a sibling of many, and be an ‘only child’/Big Kid with us.

The releasing of this human, this man-child, has been (and is) happening in a million micro moments, subtle shifts when i elect to not “claim” him, wield some egoic power over him to prop me up; when i give him ample room to decide and speak for himself, to encourage his own self-knowing, and allow space for other people, like his step-mom, to love and show up for him in the unique ways she does.

So – the #1 piece of advice that i offered to Elijah was to give everyone some extra

Space to Be

out there - -

on the literal roads, for certain,

and

the road of life.

This cold, snowy morning, he gave me an extra hug goodbye, feeling the bigness of the day. i watched and waved to him as he slowly but confidently rolled out of our driveway and eased into the flow of traffic, and the greater opening that this next level of rooted independence will offer him.

While i feel as if i’ve been swimming in the Snake energy for the last five years, it is ‘officially’ upon us if gazing through the lens of ancient Chinese astrology.

Shedding. Releasing. Dying . . . again and again . . to be re-birthed, unburdened by the constraints of That Which Was. Without judgement, but with neutrality, compassion and understanding for what It served.

i turned 44 this month, a chance to glimpse back a bit, allow the recent solar journey to wash over me and illuminate what the integration may be inviting - right now and as i set my sights forward.

i am a student of the Gene Keys, a profound spiritual technology that offers humans a unique blueprint (think an intersection of Human Design, astrology, the I Ching and the Jungian lens of archetypes) to their higher purpose/dharma. It offers insights to working with the fabric of our personal realities, leveraging our shadow frequencies so that we may uncover our greatest gifts that lie within. If you are here reading this, you will almost certainly be drawn to its poetically rich, divinely powerful influence. Without trying to explain it any more than that right now (it is steep + wide), i returned to my personal Hologenetic Profile over my birthday, and revisited the Gene Key that sheds light on the Gift of my Life’s Work (#61): Inspiration.

“What separates inspiration from other heightened experiences is that after inspiration, you are permanently altered. Even a brief flash of true inspiration will change the way your awareness operates. Through inspiration you are being prepared for an even greater experience than you can yet conceive. The path through the 61st Gift is necessarily a very creative path, since true inspiration destroys some aspect of your inner delusion, thus releasing a great surge of trapped energy in your body and life. Such energy naturally seeks an outlet through creativity. Creativity is the single most important Gift for drawing humanity out of its mass psychosis.”

i peek back into my seasons of my life and see how i have, of course, always been on this trajectory; the ways inspiration-via-creative-outlets has flowed through my interpersonal worlds and the realms i gave to others via education, our family health food store + restaurant, and more, is evident and true.

Here’s what’s being repeatedly shown to me: the willingness to allow oneself to be changed MUST be present if we are desirous of living an inspired life. This means that we MUST be Open To The More, to lovingly and adamantly look at and tend to what is standing in the way: our attachments, our fears, our insecurities. It asks us to explore and practice releasing ideas/judgements/emotions of What Was so that we can create abundant room for What Could Be.

This is wildly brave + transformative work, because if we allow our inner-awareness to grow, shift, expand, that tends to bring about a mirrored effect in our outer-worlds . . . read: change. So, the work is becoming friendly with change. To not resist it, to understand and re-frame the fear-based narratives we have built around it. To recognize how imprisoning they are to our spirit and the way we perceive and interact with Life around us.

These last five years have been all about this energy of letting go - shedding many layers of ‘skin’ as i lay myself at the alter of change — allowing, softening, releasing, and exploring how the paradox of surrender gives rise to further rootedness, inner-sovereignty, and courage to live the life i am here for.

All this to say, my friends, i see myself stepping even further into spaces where i play with this dharmic path of fearless inspiration, (even-more)-vulnerably sharing what my experiences have been/are.

So. Prepare to (likely) be triggered.

i learned about and began adopting a powerful tool almost five years ago, and i’d like to pass it forward it to you now (if it’s not already in your Toolbox).

The 5 T’s:

Trust

The

Trigger

To

Teach

How aware are you, in the mundane moments of your day, when you become triggered, when Some Seemingly Unsuspecting Scenario plays out in your field, but finds you reeling with a variety of uncomfortable sensations? Here are just a few signposts of activation, or what to ‘look’ for (which can come ‘out of nowhere’):

• Physically- jaw clenched, shallow breath, throat/voice either shut down (withdrawn, mute, closed off) or expressed outwardly (arguing, yelling, etc), heavy in the body, tightness, stomach ache, verbally and/or physically violent, weak/faint

• Emotionally - anger, envy, jealousy, resentment, defensiveness (keep in mind it may be difficult to name these in the moment)

• Mentally - thoughts of judgement, criticism, deflection/blame, victimization, “otherness;” racing mind, traveling down past or future “rabbit-holes”

Being triggered, activated, is NOT a comfortable thing. A quote i’ve loved and lived by for a long time:

Life begins at the end of your comfort zone. ~ Neale Donald Walsch

or, in the words of a life-long yoga guide,

Get comfortable with being uncomfortable. ~ Bryan Kest

Learning how to turn towards our discomfort/pain/fear with loving curiosity about what it is trying to show us, teach us . . . this is next-level shit, people. Nothing in our culture actively promotes that we do this; rather, internal-triggering is the very fodder for various forms of armoring, “other-ing,” and violence. In disrupting the pattern of feeding further into this, we are invited to shift our perception. Here’s what i’ve been playing with as i’ve been giving space to understand these uncomfortable activating forces, and shifting the relationship i have to my own triggers and how i respond to them:

ALLOW - create space to ALLOW for and tools to support the feeling state (don’t skip this part!!!). Any and all practices that support a healthy connection with my body-as-messenger are vital to establish safety within myself first so that i can move into useful mind activity (because all that rabbit-hole travelin’ is exhausting, unnecessary, and takes me out of the present moment). Connecting intentionally to my breath, maybe taking time/space away from others to allow the intense energy/emotions to simply exist without judgement/shaming; moving my body, getting into nature if possible, etc.

ACKNOWLEDGE + STAY CURIOUS ~ When i’ve attuned my nervous system, i can move more openly into a practice where i acknowledge, however uncomfortable it may be, that whatever the “external stimuli” is, it’s not really/only about that. i’m making space for a new signaling system to develop, whereby “what that person said/did,” “what happened”…..’that’ was my unique-to-me signal to be alert, to notice what’s arising, and bring curiosity around what is underneath ‘this.’ i ask myself “i wonder…” questions and become an inner-detective for what this external scenario might be reminding me of, some fearful story it could be affirming, a boundary that was potentially violated, or evidence of a lack of boundary (just to name a few).

LOOK FOR PATTERNS that helpfully connect/affirm some potential realms i have been (consciously or unconsciously) avoiding out of some flavor of FEAR. How is this showing up in various spaces at different times with diverse people? In other words, What is the common denominator within ME that i’m noticing?

lastly,

DIG IN TO THE WORK. This is the Work that is only mine, a sacred responsibility that i have to get clear within myself so that i don’t unconsciously project my shit (my pain, my wounds, my imbalanced emotions) out into the world and onto other beings (whether i ‘know’ them, love them, or they’re complete strangers - it doesn’t really matter - it’s all energy i’m emitting). Because, ultimately dear ones, this is the world we are living in: a world of people projecting mostly-unhealed aspects of themselves onto others. Which then creates more pain + more suffering — IF we are not conscious/aligned within ourselves. It is my job to look at my fear, and it is your job to look at your fear, and recognize that our personal realities/life circumstances are constantly giving us opportunities to uncover this — if we are brave enough to see our triggers as gifts to explore that-which-we’ve-been-running from. Hiding from. Numbing and distracting ourselves from. Avoiding at all costs.

(ps, This is a process whereby the support of a therapist would assist in navigating often deeply unconscious territory within the psyche, as triggers can and often do have their roots in not-so-obvious places).

Here’s a somewhat painful truth:

If you are living an authentic life that is true to you, without causing harm to others, you are guaranteed to trigger people.

That, however, is (actually) not your responsibility. That is theirs. You cannot make someone feel something. Another way to put this: don’t take others’ triggered responses personally (this.is.not.easy). What is coming up for them is for them; it is a reflection of their own blockages, blindspots, wounds and incoherence within them…. and (actually) nothing that you really need to worry about (except when their response to your authentic expression of your life elicits outwardly negative or violent reactions that breach a boundary of yours — then enact steps to reinforce that boundary/take necessary action).

i know that for me, understanding and integrating this wisdom has been a game changer. It helps me both soften my outward judgements towards others, working with said judgements as a mirror to reflect on my own perceptions, beliefs, conditioning and inner/outer alignment.

Here’s the thing: i know that i can trigger people. i know that simply by living my life in the ways i am, some of them still considered ‘taboo,’ questioning and rebelling against paradigms of normative ways and programs we’ve all been trained under — this activates emotions within others. i have explicitly been told ‘i want what you have’ or ‘i have some jealousy about how you’re living your life.’ i also intuit when people have ‘heard enough,’ and effectively change the topic or simply don’t reply. Working with my own triggers allows me to understand when other people get activated by something about me, that what i am sharing is likely bumping up against aspects within themselves that they are perhaps unsure how to work with, unwilling to look at, and/or completely unaware that these shadow states exist within them at all. In these times i get to practice bringing this compassionate awareness in, and not take on others’ energy/emotions/responses personally (again — soooooper challenging, especially if you’re a recovering people pleaser).

With further throat-chakra-opening ahead, i’ll be diving into some specific examples of how navigating triggers has taken shape in my relationships.

Also ~

i want to write more on death and why it would behoove us all to contemplate our relationship to it….like, now.

i want to share about raising my teenage son in a polyamorous, split-household dynamic

i want to discuss what it means to re-mother myself as i’ve needed to create space from much of what i inherited in my childhood

i want to excavate my awarenesses about my divorce, and the gifts that have shown up in its wake

i want to talk about the sexual awakening that inherently has been/is a massive part of my broader, spiritual expansion, my relationship to pleasure, my body, and connection to the Divine

i want to write about what it means to deconstruct my own inner-patriarchy

i want to tell the origin story of Amy + i, how our beautiful-intense journey of long-term polyamory/ethical non-monogamy over distance has catalyzed profound growth . . . for all of us

i want to let you in on how i’ve been riding waves of my own jealousy, and what i’m learning from it . . . in real-time (oof)

i want to attempt to relay the unfathomable impact that psychedelic medicines have and are making on my path

i have some speculation that elements of these offerings could initially feel uncomfortable...? My heartfelt intention is that however it may land for you, whatever may be feeling activated, it opens up something within you that you are invited to muse, question, let go of, try on or go after for yourself, or adopt as a lens that better-supports how you wish to show up differently in your world.

It has been, and continues to be, the loving act of self-permission-ing - to serve beauty, Truth, and honor this expression of existence the best i am able, even when it feels lonely, even if i am ‘misunderstood,’ especially when it is hella-vulnerable. May me living my most-inspired+courageous life give space and permission (if ya need it ;-) to live your own badass story to its fullest, too. This is not a dress-rehearsal, folks. The time is always ripe to shed fear + bravely emerge into the life you are here to live, with the ease and naturalness of a snake releasing what it has outgrown.

Two years ago, i began writing here on Substack, my initiatory piece entitled, “as within, so without.” Two revolutions around the sun and it is still the undercurrent for what i bring here ~ it is the way of the warrior poet, the peaceful rebellion, the prayerful path of unity consciousness:

(may we ALL) “be the change we wish to see in the world.” ~ Gandhi

…or the glitch in the matrix, whatever fits best for you ;-)

Share

In honor of the Year of the Snake, i am making these beautiful, twisted serpent stained glass pieces! If you are inspired by the wise, transformational energy of these mesmerizing creatures and would like to support my budding glass-art business, please direct-message me here on Substack “chat” (or reach out if you have other pathways of connecting with me ;-)

26cm tall by 15cm wide

Can be any of the pictured colors, or let me know which color(s) you would be interested in. Each one is hand-made in my home studio, imbued with love.

$64 ea (local pick-up in Colorado Springs; extra charge for shipping)

Sincere gratitude for supporting my work ~ please share with anyone who you think may be interested in intercepting with (any of) my offerings.

Now . . . it looks like i’ve got some writing to do ;-)

i’ll be in the Notes section on the in-betweens.

Until next time ~ sending love.

It’s good to meet you here in this moment.

While i recover from a cold, and my auditory voice asks that i put a slight hold on recording for the upcoming piece, i thought i’d reach out today and otherwise express a few thoughts. i’m putting the promised “What is Time?” installment over to the sideburner to simmer a bit longer (because, truly, what is time?), so that the authentic waves of inspiration can freely flow. Sometimes we just need to give ourselves that permission, and go with it. This past Sunday i gave myself such permission to follow through with the creative impulses that often flow when i’m in the shower where the dancing, the music, and inspired word-frequencies are all turned up high: i got out, put my robe on, brought my computer into the bathroom and banged out the forthcoming piece entitled, “shedding skins of fear.” so keep a watch out for that ~

i’ve started attracting subscribers and readers whom i don’t ‘know’ (a delightful surprise, every time!), readers in the Substack community who, for whatever their reason, feel resonance and desire to drop in on my offerings; readers who, like maybe you?, are hungry for something more substantial than what the algorithms of the Book of Faces or the ‘Gram has to offer. i, m’self, am spending more time on the Substack platform, specifically the Notes section (aka, the ‘feed’), both from a reader perspective, as well as a lovely space to sprinkle some impromtu, inspired words into the void. If you hop on to my Substack homepage, you’ll find what i’ve thus-far been sharing under the “Notes” tab. If you are keen to receive more from me than the monthly long-form piece, i would encourage you to download the Substack app and/or make it a part of your ‘intake flow.’

i want to begin a new series within the Notes platform that’s been brewing in my mind for some time, entitled, “Human Experiments.” These will be short, poetically infused snapshots from a “what-if?” lens as we look at our world and imagine it differently, a mental ‘wrench-in-the-gear’ as i throw out some benign, mostly wild, likely extreme, potentially controversial scenarios that dare to look at How We Might Be if circumstances were altered, dogmas dissolved, social ‘norms’ obliterated.

Becuase here’s one thing i know: Our thoughts, our beliefs create our realities. If we are to disarm the destructiveness that we see playing out in the world, our rebellion comes not from expending our precious life-force energies towards further division which supports the agenda of hate/fear/profit, but rather from ecstatic envisioning of what could be. At its core, my friends, that is an inside job; i’ll be here offering up some playful nibs to chew on as we co-create something far more beautiful, inclusive, balanced. perhaps i’ll see you there?

This journey is clearly about more than ‘just’ an addition to our house. It is an evolving declaration of who we are becoming, not only thru the design choices (open, kitchen-centric floorplan on upper level, maxed-out windows for light + views, garage door opening to vast skies), but the manner in which we’re doing it, something i expanded on in my last post (it’s the how, not so much the what). At this point, i’ve come to know the value of positioning myself in spaces and with people who inspire me. It is this intangible realm of magic that flows when i remove myself from our projects (and likely chaos of some kind), and immerse myself in places where i can be held in the vibration of creation. Whether that is a pilgrimage to Burning Man’s big art + deep playa, or a backpacking trip into deep nature (the true holy-land of creation); a weekend getaway to an artist’s hand-built air bnb in Taos, or a much-needed vacation in the ancient forests of the Pacific northwest where we resided in a whimsical mushroom hut built by a legendary local architect ~ it has been crucial to take breaks, step away, and go be inspired.

Go collect some experiences of awe for the ways Creation has moved through others.

Go into nature and re-absorb your connection to Her, and bring Her wisdom freshly back into your own processes, creative expressions and Ways of Being.

Go take in the wilds and chaos of The World Out There and practice holding it all lightly so that you may return to your own cycles of destruction + construction, mess + order, death + rebirth with renewed perspective and perhaps some healthy detachment.

It’s not always about going somewhere, though. Sometimes, it’s about allowing myself to get a little lost in a medium i have maybe not been giving much space for, to open myself up to the invisible threads of inspired connection that are weaving around me. i practice stepping out of the logical, linear frame that requires me to have a reason, a “plan,” and, with an ever-widening trust that this, too, matters, i permit playfulness to enter in. This sacred place that still feels new-ish to me, i’ve found, must be void of judgement and lite on the seriousness that i’ve carried with me since i was a child. It asks that i release the need to rationalize or explain myself, or even talk about it at all to anyone. So through these seasons of swimming in disarray, i’ve chosen to infiltrate “forward movements” with bursts of explorations that don’t outwardly “make sense” in the trajectory of finishing our house, but rather serve as fuel for the energy and spirit that eventually does move through me into the plethora of steps towards further completion. i’ve painted rocks and gifted them at our first summer solstice gathering on the Land, gathered leaves on a neighborhood stroll one especially dreamy fall day and made leaf prints on canvas to honor the beauty + wisdom of autumn, learned a few medicine songs to play and sing to on the ukelele, and always the dancing – with my ecstatic community and solo-style on my deck mid-yoga sesh.

The secret is to trust that it ALL feeds everything else. Trust that these “divergences” hold purpose, even if it’s not glaringly obvious how they serve the greater picture ~ they do.

The task is to make room to be surprised, to actively decide to not have it all ‘figured out,’ and intentionally surround and expose oneself to influences that spark intrigue + resonance, or otherwise turn you ON.

There is no spreadsheet formula for this, no risk assessment, no prescribed model to follow that ‘guarantees’ some sort of desired outcome. It asks us to lean into this mystical territory of inspiration and recognize that we’re not supposed to ‘understand’ it from a heady, logical perspective. Inspiration is a deeply feminine element; it asks that we slow down and allow ourselves to feel. It asks that we are present so that we may attune our attention inwards and listen to what is desiring to be felt, heard, expressed, shared. It asks that we banish our inner critic (fear), mute the opinions of the external world, and give ample space for mystery to enter in and make itself known.

This all is generally easier said than done. The programming that i, and likely you, received is quite the opposite. Keep going, hustle harder, be rational, ‘safe + sensible,’ constantly compare yourself/life/choices to others + stay within the relative ‘norm,’ and always keep costs/money as the driver for decisions. Feelings are ultimately not a factor. Looking around at the State of Things in the collective, you can see how this sort of conditioning has and is being played out.

Audaciously staking out spaces and encircling oneself with inspiring humans who disrupt these fear-based, self-destructive and limiting patterns is like a lifeline, a tether to a more beautiful, balanced, connected world we so direly need. i recognize that this house renovisioning saga is a nod to this, is part of my out-breath in this life, and i am so grateful for all the experiences and the humans who continually contribute to my unique tapestry, people who are bravely igniting their inner flame, allowing it to burn brightly so that i may marry their spark with my own and send it out into the world.

May we inspire

ourselves

and one another

to illuminate the brilliance

within

that we are here to share.

Also, as a bonus during this season of inwardness, i curated a lil playlist of sound-word frequencies that have served as undercurrents for inspired states of movement, and mantras (= lyrics) that evoke the spirit of creation. Some more chill, others more dance-y … i hope you enjoy ~

Stay tuned for the third + final piece to this series, “What is Time?”

Hey everyone,

As i approach my two-year Substack-iversary, i would like to take a moment to thank you for listening, for reading, for sharing my offerings on Rooting in the Flow ~ i am grateful for this platform and how it allows me to express and share my experiences in ways that are both deeply nurturing for me, and perhaps you as well, as you walk your unique life’s path. If you have been enjoying my writing here + are interested in further supporting my work, maybe consider upgrading to a paid subscription..? Where we ‘put’ the energy of our dollars is a vote towards a world we believe is possible + needed ~ so thank you to those of you who also believe this and have graciously ‘voted’ for me in this way so far.

Subscribe now

And/Or, since Substack has this nifty Gift Subscription button, why not also consider injecting a win-win into the cosmos by gifting a special, resonant someone with a subscription to Rooting in the Flow?

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Welp, here we are, folks.

It is officially year seven.

The big question is, of course, “Are we ‘done?’”

In this marathon, here is the frame that has been most supportive to me: We are as “done” as we’ve ever been up until this point. Tomorrow we’ll reach Even-More-Done status than today. It’s been a curious thing to observe up close these many years of living in spaces that are constantly in a shape-shifting mode, of being reminded of All That is Not “Done,” and all the feelings that come with it: the attachments + expectations, the overwhelm + the exhaustion, and the wrestling with the concept and valuation of Time in particular. It is also the sort of adventure many couples would not ‘survive’ together; this has explicitly been told to me, and i sense it through subtle awareness of how we have been challenged on both the individual level and within our partnership.

So, as we prepare to host a sweet gathering this weekend in celebration of milestones, transformations and co-creative community, i’ll be releasing a small series of writings, sharing lenses and Ways of Being that have buoyed us through the waves of upheaval and expansion these last seven years.

First up…

It's the HOW, not so much the WHAT

Every.single.task holds within it the invitation to be present. A choice to view “it” not just as The Next Thing, but as a gift to explore one’s ability to give calm, loving focus. This is not always so easy for me (or likely most humans in these Times of Great Distraction). i have taken on some legs of this journey that have really challenged me. Whether it was sanding the concrete countertops for the third time, painstakingly tiling the insets in the shower so that the lines are visually congruent, or dry-walling around the fireplace, i have not always greeted The Next Thing with peace and gladness in my heart. Many of these steps involve a fresh round of mess-making, of altering the flow of our day-to-day lives, of basically embracing another phase of Disturbance in the Home-field. While i’ve definitely had to relax any type-A tendencies along the way, i always strived to create some semblance of organization and comfort amidst the upheaval where i could. Every time i faced off with a new “what” – perfectly installing drawer faces, cutting laminate around the hex floor tiles without chipping the veneer, or assessing the gigantic trench dug around our house for a new sewer line – i felt keenly aware that i had yet another opportunity to color it however i wanted. i have been learning to allow myself to feel it all - frustrations, annoyance, fatigue, or the sheer dislike for what i’m dealing with - cognizant of my tendency to rationally talk myself out of feeling. The integration of personal/spiritual practices that i’ve been concurrently cultivating help me to navigate both honoring my feelings and leave space for exploring a re-frame. Do i need to take a walk around the neighborhood or pop into the canyon to move my body and breath? Do i need to seek further guidance from Anthony, YouTube or my construction-seasoned brother? Do i need to put my hands into a different, softer medium to balance the intense energies of the wet, grating tile saw and noxious vapors of stains + sealers? Likely, the answer is yes, any or all of that. Because underneath it all is the awareness that this is all a tremendous gift, a wild dream i am inside of, and i desire to bring as much gratitude as I can into each aspect. i get to bring forth a vision with my own hands, to marry beauty and function, with limitations that mostly exist inside my own head. You can’t do that; you’ve never done that. That looks like something only a professional should do, not you. That’s unconventional, risky. And then there’s the How do you deserve this? Stop your whining with all your first-world ‘problems.’ Etc. etc. i know that by observing my inner-dialogue, I can assess where my perceived barriers exist, where i still might need to nurture my confidence + self-worth, and flex my visionary bad-assery-ness with wild, grateful abandon.

The degree to which i care for my HOW (read: energy, presence) that i bring into something (the WHAT) has become central to my path – in the home re-configuring and everything – the Next Task, the next conversation, the next act of self-care. Is “this” just a means to an end? Am i just tolerating “this” to get to “that?” What would it feel like to bring radical acceptance, deep gratitude, or even inject JOY into something that feels arduous in some way? The point is that, even the most mundane of things can be portals to vastly different experiences – if we graciously allow ourselves to, if we can see that we hold that power to either succumb to past patterning and beliefs, or create space for curiosity of not just what might be possible, but how my perspective is painting “this.”

i’ve had the profound fortune of partnering with a human who naturally imbibes this sense of genuine inquisitiveness, a man with an engineer, problem-solving mind, someone who approaches said ‘problems’ and tasks with a more-heightened sense of enthusiasm and presence than I’ve ever met in another Being. When i’ve been in my throes of woes over the years, he has been that steady drum beat, an anchor that brings me back to Now when my mind is swirling in worry and doubt. We’d be standing in sawdust after finishing step nineteen out of fifty-seven of cabinet-building, stepping out of the shower after an exhausting day of slinging concrete, or finally landing on a purchasing decision for flooring, and he’d pull me in close, arms snugly wrapped around me, and whisper, “We’re doin’ it.”

“It” is Now. “It” is yes, this act of doing/accomplishing, AND it is this moment of connection, of celebrating all we are becoming through this Now-moment. Because the Acts of Doing will never end. You can, or don’t have to be a homeowner with grand visions to tap into this Truth. Life will always present More To Do. The “what’s” will keep on comin’. The questions i’ve come to ask myself are, “Who is the version of me i wish to bring into This Step, This Task, This Hurdle, This Moment of Overwhelm? How is She a reflection of this deep gnowing that All This Stuff We Do is just the playing field, the sandbox, for amplified self-witnessing, greater presence, deeper healing, heightened gratitude, and yes, more celebration?”

As a nod to celebrating the process, we hosted a winter solstice party in 2019, just two years into our journey. It was beyond-exciting to have walls, as the insulation and drywall had just been completed. i cleared out the tools and brought in black linens to cover the work tables. i hung twinkle lights, perched the Christmas cactus i had just bought from my school’s music department fundraiser up on the to-be mantle, and used the ample wall space for chart paper and solstice-themed questions to interact with (yep, a teacher move for sure). People sat on lawn chairs and walked on bare OSB subfloors. No running water upstairs yet, no paint on the walls. Not exactly the ideal party-conditions. But it felt valuable for us to gather, with the sacred energy of the solstice, and celebrate this moment, this part of the process, and to share the “messy in-between” that we often don’t get to see when we leap from the unsightly before picture to the hallowed “after” shot.

“It” is

[We are]

always changing,

forever in process + progress,

constantly evolving from one state of form + Being

into another ~

so while the sparkly visuals of the “after” are lovely (+ quite satisfying),

may we remember and honor the subtle jewels

that exist in each Now along the way.

Stay tuned for the next installation of this series, Go Be Inspired

early morning prepping for island concrete pour

We also happen to live on a rather busy street, a primary thoroughfare between two neighborhoods that gets predictable build-ups of vehicles waiting to turn at the nearby intersection. In these years, especially since i’ve been home more, i have often looked up from working in the front yard or enjoying some tea on the deck to someone shooting their arm out of their open window while inching forward in line with a big smile and a thumb’s up. “You guys are doing a great job, we’ve been watching!” they’ll say, or “So inspiring, seeing y’all through these years!” It has tapped me in to the energy our home is vibrating, and the place it holds in the movements of so many people repeatedly going from Point A to Point B past our house.

i’ve also grown more and more sensitive to noise, and often feel at odds with living in the city at all anymore. Between an ongoing slew of work vehicles chugging by, obnoxiously loud sports cars with egos that apparently have to be seen and heard, as well as a frequent parade of war machines flying overhead, it’s a bit rough on my nervous system, to be honest.

So, while we still don’t have railings for said decks (Anthony’s welding project ahead), i have yet to install trim around the interior, and the upper cabinets still don’t have faces, i felt compelled to move forward with a little ‘side-project’ that has helped in alchemizing the chaotic energy around the exterior of our home — a 3x5 foot piece of steel covered with chalkboard paint and installed on the upper face of the house. It’s a messaging board that reminds me of the few years we had a marquee in front of our restaurant on South Padre Island so we could “talk to the people,” as my sister put it; a channel for loving sentiments, empowering lyrics, inspiring invitations; a literal chalkboard for this forever-teacher to cheer on passing humanity in the most fabulously passive way.

It’s for me as much as it’s for whomever glances up as they pass by, a way to drop all of us in to the More that we’re here to consider, remember, activate. i don’t have a ‘schedule’ of what i’ll write; some ideas, yes, but mostly it is a place to share real-time word-frequencies that are moving through me + my hand (not a device/screen), musings for This Now, and as i notice/sense what the good folks would likely be nourished to receive.

As a teacher, there is a divine surrender to the unknown that what you are ‘doing’ is making a difference, creating positive impact in the lives of others. A million micro-moments with hundreds and hundreds of humans, never to truly ever know exactly if or how you are affecting them. It is an act of faith, trusting that those who are intended to be moved/felt in the wake of your ripples, will. This chalkboard just gets to be one of my new sandboxes in which to play with this energy.

May you recognize the power that your ripples hold to keep rising above the noise of the mundane and imbue your world with more harmony, creativity, and joy.