Wednesday, September 16, 2015


our potency exists in our ability to react fearlessly to what time puts immediately before us in harmony with what exists already in naked, honest desire within us... and to be consumed by neither.

Im an auntie! Well, technically i have been since i was fourteen, but my baby sister, best friend, the human that never ceases to surprise my skeptical guarded heart made her own little human (with her set-the-bar-remarkable hubs) and i couldn't sob tears of awe any harder without rupturing my entire being. This babe is magnetic, pulling me in to what is simple and kind and unshaped by any other human; she is so fresh and so clean clean, her gentle most clearest of truths self. She is pure. She is Quinn. Quinn Marie.

And this weekend i met her for the first time.

So i will check that off the list.

Just like I'm going to check writing this post off the list.

So now i can attend to the next things to replace these accomplished list bits.

And so it goes….

Fuck. Is the "list" ever really done?

It is ironic that i wrote that bit of business in fancy italicized font at the top of this post along with the promise of a full post (this one here) over a month ago intending on impressing upon you how easy it is to get lost in what is right in front of you at the expense of what is inside of you. Writing out the thoughts i had around that--hell, writing itself--existed within me as information i needed to feel out and process and share, yet i allowed all that has been coming at me day after day to get in the way. What happened was that in wanting simply to talk about the balance between inward focus and external necessity, i lived it instead.

I have been living a list.

This job, that catering, this crush, move to this house, wash these socks*, buy a god damn bike helmet already, pickle carrots…seriously. Really?! Is pickling carrots more important than my practice? Meditation? Writing? Finally going to see my sisters babe? Well, once i have all my seasonal preserving done, then i can talk about the anxiety that has been clutching at my throat for longer than those damn carrot seeds have been planted.

Again, ironically, we pickled those carrots, my ma, sister, Quinn, and I this weekend. Two birds with one stone. Two stoned birds. Distractions….

It isn't all distractions, though, that present moment surface stuff that keeps us from attending to what exists on a deeper level. Some of it is very real. Meeting my niece cannot be compared to washing the socks that--*for those of you who know me far too well know--i don't even own, yet moving into a new home and working (albeit excessively) to pay off three months in France are very real "to dos" that kept me from meeting her.

One more irony: now that i have met her I realize that none of it was comparable at all. Nothing is of more value, necessity, integrity, than meeting that little vitamin. Nothing. Yet, in the way that things go, the Universe only offers you what you need in the moments that you need it, and does not take it away until you have learned all you can from it. If i was allowing myself to put things before meeting Quinn, then i wasn't ready to receive what she had to offer me. And when i was ready…oh whoah. Such wisdom in that little babe, embodying the reminder to be only the most unadulterated, honest version of self, without distraction, excuse, or fear.

Much the same, i was not ready to write this post until i had experienced the message that i sought to write: our potency exists in our ability to react fearlessly to what time puts immediately before us in harmony with what exists already in naked, honest desire within us... and to be consumed by neither.

There will always be things to do that seem--seem--of timely importance. There will always be an abundance of distractions, opportunities, gifts, moments of heightened levels of awareness that allow us to be more consciously involved with immediate interactions and synchronicities; things that make us feel connected to our present, momentous selves, or, alternatively, things that simply numb us from our constancies. Living presently can be both the opportunity to create oneself spontaneously, to flourish in newness, adaptability, raw emotional reactivity, to be curious--and it can also take us away from what we truly value, the direction we seek to journey, our intended hearts and our understanding minds. The trickiest part of living in balance with the ever evolving list and the pre decided truth of self is to know what is merely a distraction and simply cross it off without attendance in order to make space and time for what is more personally meaningful.

To live as your most potent self is to be constantly re-navigating from your internal source, trusting in your intrinsic genius and taking time away from practicalities for what is more a part of your impassioned intention. Presence, then, is not only your ability to take what is coming at you day after day but to act from a place of clear mind and heart. We choose what we receive. We choose what is next. What holds the most credence to you may look selfish or foolish to others--but nothing is of more value than something else until you make it that way.

And before anything you must value yourself.

I was anxious because i was attaching value to whatever came at me, making excuses of getting this done and then this done after that was done before any real work could be done. I was busying myself in ideas and jobs and time stealers as a means of excusing my inability to sit still with myself and acknowledge that i had (have) much greater work to do. The only result of this was feeling the numbing of neglect to my self. I had lost the balance between a beautiful surrender to spontaneity and an unwavering knowing and trust in what i needed and who i am to be. I am a hyper passionate being, lately though, i have felt tepid at best, timid in my ability to not take what is merely coming my way, but grab at it from the core of my trust in self--at what i know to be of personal value. I have diluted my own potency with busyness, and finally understand what peace can come from giving a little on the side of receiving so that your offering might be greater--to take less of what is handed at me so the i might give what is dynamically me.

As you look at your own list, look at what it means to attend to one thing over the next. Are you avoiding what is begging for your immediate attention, whether that is digging deeper to the heart of your youness or embracing the possibility of something cast your way? Are you so consumed by surface level checkmarks that your internal compass is spinning at a loss of direction? Sit still with yourself. Acknowledge that once you were as brand new as sweet Quinn, truly a gift who would have the world as it came, piece by piece, handed to you as you needed and your innate response would shape all those you connected with, all that continued to shape you into who you are now. Continue to make an offering, without excuses or distractions, but an honest wisdom and trust in what is immediately in need of your attention: whether that be an external source of experience or an opportunity to reconnect with your unique self. Living wholly, transparent and authentic is not something waiting at the end of a list, but an integral part of each landmark you check off by living.

And finally, be free.

Wednesday, September 2, 2015

Chapter 8

I moved. Again.

And again i am reminded of this absurd imbalance within me to at once be a gypsy free to explore and welcoming of every adventure disguised as change, and to dig my toes into Mother Earth and set roots from my soles and soul. I am simultaneously accepting if not excited for what is next, and tired of not having a place to call "home." So the story goes...

Every time i have moved is like a new chapter in my life, as significant as the beginning or ending of a relationship, a career change, a quarter life crises (or three). Every home, no matter how temporary, becomes the backdrop for frames of change in my life; places for something, myself, to unfold.

I'll miss the setting of the last four months of my life: two sets of corner windows pooling with sunlight; original wood floors barren but for smatterings of paint from nights laced with whiskey and dreams; chalk strewn steps leading up to the "Goddess Lair;" a six year olds bedroom and a bicycle graveyard. If i was to title the chapter that this space was, i would call it "Self Love and Sad Truths: Confessions of an Honest to Goddess Wanderlust." (Wordy bit of business for somewhere i did hardly any writing); a chapter about transitions and sisterhood in a space so safe as to simply exist and feel and be.

When i moved in here, my lostness was disguised as wanderlust, coming home from a most catalytic two weeks in mexico and repacking for France in half that time. I was fully embracing being transient, having moved three times in three months prior to travelling. The next three months would be spent in a country whose language i didn't speak with no job and no real intentions other than to, well, escape. I'd given away next to all of my belongings and while overseas was prepared to stay and start the next chapter there. Yet when i thought of the lair while in Marseille, i could feel the idea of it satiate whatever desire i had to ground. If i was going to come back, at least i had a "home" to come back to.

The first months of this chapter were spent in culture shock. I felt stranded, misunderstood, lonely, upswept from the contented existence i had in France. i wanted so much so for this time to be temporary; to get through what i had to get through and get on the next plane back to Europe. I still want to do that. But not in a way that is running back to myself, rather in a way that is connected more deeply to myself.

That is what this space, and this chapter provided: the opportunity to look without blinking lest i miss a significant truth detail of whom i am. There were patterns to watch for, systems of survival to re then un-create, confessions to make, little peas of discomfort and fear to find under layers of falsities stacked like mattresses in a fairy tale. Because i entered into this home with as much gratitude for the welcoming arms that shared the space as i did non-attachment to any amount of time there, i was in this vortex where i wasn't living with a direction or purpose other than to watch myself in my own existence. And what i saw was that i was dreaming up the next chapters instead of participating in this one. Which was exactly where i needed to be: not here, emotionally, at all...

i was still in Europe and in Europe again. i was consumed by memories raw with sensation, numb to anything in my present, and emotionally investing in a future that i didn't know anything more about than it not being here. This chapter was written almost subconsciously--as if not knowing what was next but wanting it so badly had me so disconnected from what i was actually living and could be writing. In this way the chapter wrote itself, and now, as i sit on the floor in my new (again temporary) "home" its as if i get to read it.

Turns out its quite a beautiful little tale. One of late nights with a tribe of females i would walk to the ends of everywhere for. Pantslessness. Experimentation and meditation. There was a lot of ramen and not enough dancing. Reunions that made me aware of the immense capacity of humans to love. Conversations that revealed the immense capacity of humans to feel, see, and speak their truth. The pricelessness of listening, and being listened to. Awareness. People whose presence erases time and whose words erase doubt. People who saw me when i was trying not to be seen. People who loved me when i was trying not to be loved but needing it the most. People who let me see them and love them. People who as they read this I'm sure they know are those people, and will continue to grace the next chapters of my life.

And in writing about this so called chapter after it closes rather than while living it, i acknowledge that i was always there, and in choosing not to be only made the space more valuable.  So much of our lives pass in this way: only realizing the significance in a situation, a conversation, a decision, an encounter, a failure, a success, parallels and full circles until we are out of the wild immediacy of it and are allowing it to be acceptingly absorbed into our consciousness. As if while in the heat we don't feel the burn, but allow it to cool and it stings so rawly you cannot ignore your own aliveness. No matter how much regret you feel, or how caught up in your dreams, no matter if you are waiting for something or regressing into a previous state, no matter the level of contentedness or freedom you embody, you are the creator of every moment, every chapter of your life. You are exactly where you need to be and like some beautiful element of foreshadowing, your thoughts, feels, actions, and choices, are at once a product of where you have been and where you are going. You can exist harmoniously then, between a state of curiosity and creation of your next chapter, and resolute trust in the grounded genius of your own sense of self, as i am learning to...

Because: "wherever i go there i am"

Thanks for the lesson Chey. I can't wait to live out the next chapter with you.