Day Two: Connection, Nature and Nurture

♥The lovely way the mysterious zappy internet and satellites have shrunken the globe to the point where just today I felt akin to a hug from four states, four countries and three continents.

♥The smell of fresh cut grass...it's just clean and fresh and earthy and summery.

♥My amazing boy with his adventurous spirit and brave soul.

My Most Beauty~FULL thing

75 days ago my world crashed. The entire thing. Where I live. Where I work. How I parent. Where I parent from. What I drive. Who I trust. Where I sleep. Where my money comes from. Who I am, basically.

I believed all that...for most of the past 75 days.

I've spent countless hours curled up, in tears, trembling, jumping at noises both real and imaginary, driving, driving, driving and driving some more, biting my fingernails then my cuticles when there were no more nails to bite, packing, pacing...jumbled, confused, scared and lost.

I've slept on floors, in cars, in hotels, on this couch and that one...apologizing for the terrible energy I knew I was bringing into their space...and I spent entire afternoons talking in circles trying futilely to make sense of my world, oblivious to the troubles of anyone I was talking to.

I've put off this post, the one I've known about for many many days. It hurt to have to try so hard, to put in so much effort to come up with my most beautiful thing.

75 days ago I was broken. Broken in so many ways that I couldn't breathe enough to get my bearings. All I could do was keep breathing.

My most beauty~FULL thing is that today I know that there is no such thing as broken.

75 days ago, I was broken open. Wide open....and great things happen from that place.

(I'm participating in Writing Our Way Home Fiona Robyn's celebration of her book The Most Beautiful Thing, Please feel free to join us! http://www.writingourwayhome.com/2012/04/my-most-beautiful-thing-blogsplash.html )

Stop! In the name of love...

There's been a tickle...a nudge...sometimes a flighty dance-y freeing feeling and sometimes a hard heaviness dead center spreading to the edges of my heart's consciousness. It's a knowledge, an awareness, a certainty.

I am not responsible for anyone else's happiness.

There, I said it.

Not only is that lovely...unconditionally accepting of everyone everywhere in any state of mind they may be in but it's also scarily unimportant and nowhere near the center of anyone else's universe.

Isn't it amazing, the things we tell ourselves.

So, I will stop.

I will stop trying to think so far ahead...worrying, pushing, molding, scolding, advising, spending energy on trying to create just the right place, situation and experience.

I will stop. I have stopped. Right now.

I will instead simply be. I will dream and create and do what I love...and invite.

I will twirl and be happy. Just me...with plenty of room for anyone with a tutu and a twirl in their heart as well.

Ch ch ch changes...

If you took a shirt, cut off the sleeves, turned it inside out, tie-dyed it a rainbow of hues, shrunk it and then tried to wear it...you might...just MIGHT have an idea of what my life is like right about now.

My life bears little resemblance to itself a mere two months ago. I'm in completely different state of mind, state of the union and currently in a completely different state period. My things are here...within these walls that are no longer the ones I own. Who resides within these walls is very different. Who I am is even up for grabs. The future is an elusive concept....and whereas the shirt metaphor rings true...there is nothing remotely frantic, disruptive or scary about putting on a tie-dyed shirt. Conversely...yep. Frantic. Disruptive. Scary.

I missed a few of The Burning Questions in the series due to lack of internet, brainpower, ability to process emotions outside of survival and no desire to write. I have kept track and one of the first questions I missed asked what boat in life needs burning. The question came from a parable about a tribe that goes from one island to another, burning their boat when they arrive so that they don't have the option or ability to go backwards. I'm still not quite ready to answer that question...the lingering thought in my mind is that I wonder how long they waited, upon arriving at their new destination, to ensure that they could survive there before they set that craft afire? They had to scout, surely? They had to, right? Were there ANY members of their tribe who might, at some point in the future, have to or choose to return? Were loyalty and dedication to the new location universally accepted even if not embraced? I have too many questions to have answers just yet.

But I'm working on it. Slowly. And for now, I'm setting my fear in that boat at the shore...where a spark just might find it.

What I expect money to do for me...

I have been so poor that I visited food closets and hefted the bags and boxes on public transportation through grime and glares and occasionally theft so that I could feed my family.

I have been so poor that I robbed Peter, Paul, Mary and all their cousins...knowing my utilities could go a full 90 days before they would be shut off...and it was worth it to have fresh milk and veggies for my family.

I have been so poor that we learned to recycle, reuse and compost...because I couldn't afford trash service.

I have been so poor that we stopped celebrating holidays with any sort of store-bought gift giving.

I have been so poor that I had to choose between enough gas to get to the bus stop that day or enough gas to get to work the next day.

I have been so poor that I rode a bike everywhere I needed to go while my kids were on their father's timeshare.

I have been so poor that I have layered extra blankets on the bed and crammed the three of us in that bed to avoid turning on the heater.

I have been so poor that I learned the importance of being greener, more active, having my priorities in order, un-commercializing the holidays, cuddling with my kids while they were small enough to share a family bed.

I have been so poor that I learned humility and balance, compassion and generosity of spirit.

I have been so poor that I looked for all the lovely~ness that is available with no price tag anywhere at all.

I have been so poor that I have grown completely rich in my heart and mind.

Today, I am wealthy. My bank account says so. Opportunities have opened for me exponentially in many directions. But I will use THIS opportunity to tell you that without a single doubt, I could not have this career that I adore so greatly and reimburses me financially so well if I hadn't spent the time poverty-stricken learning the lessons that make me so proud and fabulous at what I do as a job every day.

What I expect money to do for me is simple: Keep me keeping on...with less struggle than a time not so long ago.

Someday I would like my money to come from being your Simplification Consultant or your Life Changing Event Coach.

I would like to do this from my home, the Earthship, where I cherish a herd? flock? gaggle? of rescued animals and a house full of teenaged girls who thought that their current pregnancy meant the end of their dreams...and we work together to prove that to be completely incorrect.

Come on, Money...we've got some work to do.

The reverse side of the reverse side

I was sitting here...equal parts confused, angry, righteous, buggered and bereft. This recipe bakes up a heaping dish of irritability when given enough time to stew.

This irritability had built up and was now distracting me beyond all measure. The noise. The fuzzy feeling on my teeth. My cold feet. Something sticky under my forearm on the surface of my desk.

I literally threw a temper tantrum...stomped into the kitchen, slammed through the cupboard until I found the windex and a rag. I squirted and wiped the surface of my desk. There. Movement...however small...can alleviate the irritability. Can. Unless the sticky~ness remains. It did. Then I realized it was tape. Who the FUCK stuck tape to the surface of my desk...and WHY??? Of all the...

Irritability factor through the roof.

Then I peeled the tape back. And it went from invisible to slap me in the face visible.



Perspective check. The noise? Kids playing outside. The fuzz on my teeth? Peanut Brittle instead of dinner. The cold feet? A lovely Spring~ish day perfect for open windows and bare feet. The sticky desktop? A reminder of love from the one place I never expected it to come from today and needed the most.

Thank you, perspective...you're always there...just waiting for me to notice you.

My haven, my heaven...

My answers to the inaugural post for The Burning Questions Series!

How do you want it all to feel?

By "all" I have chosen those things in my day that make it real from waking to sleep again.

my bed...a floating feathery nest of dreams and hope and promise and rejuvenation.

my home...a safe, sacred, sweet~smelling oasis of acceptance, laughter, simple love and play.

my kids...energetic optimists equal parts kindness humor and presence...fumbling their way to authenticity with all the wild soul ripping joy and pain that we can possibly handle.

my drive...a river with a steady current of tunes that float me along to a destination I've chosen...with landmarks that remind me that even duty is chosen.

my job...a fairy tale of wand waving and love bombing psychic glitter all day every day.

my body...an instrument to rejoice in.

my friendships...a carved out place in a field of high grass and flowers below a brilliant blue sky or a glittering sky of stars...secluded, intimate, hopeful, earthy and pure.

my love affairs...a slow and sultry bass riff on a brandy soaked sunday.

my evening...a vacation full of limitless conversation, adventures, friends new and old and time to just be.

my conversations...connections of the heart, bonding and reminding and equal parts soul salving and kick in the ass.

my sleep...sound and solid, full of technicolor dreams that serve upon waking to remind of possibility and power.