New Stories... and seeking wisdom

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Friends, I am sinking into new stories this year and am looking for some ideas and your wisdom...

I need creative outlets and writing is at the top of my list, next to photography, watercolors, gardening, and moving my body.

For my fellow writers out there, how do you feel about Substack? I started sharing some writing back on Blogger back in 2010, then moved pieces to my website. I am now looking for another solid way to share in a user-friendly format - both for myself and for those who are curious to tap in. Any other platforms out there nowadays you recommend? Also, what has drawn you to what I have shared through writing? I'm curious and open to where the energies move us.

Thank you from the top of my head to the bottom of my tippy toes for those of you who have have joined me on the creative path through the years. The Energy Experience is one part of this. I have met many of you through energy and consciousness work through the last two decades. What an incredible blessing!

Life truly is energy: how it comes together, how it is expressed, how we heal, grow, connect, worship, transition... this all is a deeply creative act. This takes a village too, and I have to say the village and circles I am blessed to be a part of are magnificent. Let's create more, shall we? Let's make this year truly one to remember in all the right ways

*Photo taken by David last spring while we were engaged in sacred community work in Glastonbury, England. In this particular moment, David, our friend Brad, and I were practically getting blown off of the Tor by the gale force winds. The ancient tower held us a bit more intact before venturing back out. What a day to be alive and creative!

Until next time I offer these words of wisdom for better or for worse. Please take them with a grain of salt for we each live our own individual truths. Our mission while we are here is to understand, accept, and celebrate that one very simple, but incredibly significant fact. For all this, I am grateful.

Sacred Winter

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For those of us in the Northern Hemisphere, we are reminded of the dark days of winter and the promise of the return of the light. I cherish this dark time of year and the winter season yet to come. This is when I get very quiet, rest, reflect, and breathe forward new possibilities into the spring season.

This time of the year holds more than 20 different sacred holidays and observances around the world between December and January. The path my heart follows is rooted in a dedication to honoring the rhythms of the Earth, and the Divine Feminine and Masculine as spiritual and grounding practice. For as long as I can recall, I have been deeply inspired by the traditional weavings of the ancient people who I come from and honor the homelands of what we now refer to as Germany, Scotland, England, and Northwestern Europe. Following the seasons helps me feel close to them. Embodying my own sacred Feminine and Masculine qualities helps me embody the contrast of polarity and nonduality. This solstice season will be set aside with new understandings as I am now our eldest still embodied within our immediate lineage, with both of my parents now sitting with our ancient people. I envision this to be a special time.

As we each lean into our own practices of faith and spirit and remembrance, may we all be reminded of the one common thread that runs through us all: connection. May you feel warmed by the fire of your heart and hearth and honor the connection we all share to the greater mystery of what it means to be an eternal being held within a temporal shell on this magnificent planet of ours.

(Image above of the black ebony statue of Madonna and Child, from when I visited Truro Cathedral in Cornwall in 2022)

Until next time I offer these words of wisdom for better or for worse. Please take them with a grain of salt for we each live our own individual truths. Our mission while we are here is to understand, accept, and celebrate that one very simple, but incredibly significant fact. For all this, I am grateful.

The "Firsts"

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They say the “firsts” are the hardest. I’m somewhat on board with that feeling, although I had a lot of “firsts” with my mom’s passing that were not typical. For my dad, we honored his first birthday this past Thursday since his passing in January. He would have been 82.

To be honest he was not much of a birthday guy and argued each year about not wanting to celebrate and grumbled about getting older and less able-bodied. He was angry at his body and so we did our best to cheer him regularly, especially on each of the six birthdays he was with us after my mom’s passing. It felt important to share with him that we were glad he was still here with us and experiencing more of life with us than he ever had the opportunity to do so before. Celebration was not something he and my mom practiced easily.

I dreamt of him in the early hours of his birthday on Thursday. We embraced tightly as if we hadn’t seen each other in a very long time. He was happy. What a gift I was given! I cherish the moments in dreams we connect, and each time I am reminded that he is doing well.

We have memories to lean into and I am glad to have photos of him from earlier times. In this image, he is on the beach near where I lived in Florida with my faithful companion Brown Dog. He looks strong and healthy, straight and happy. He had many health challenges already at this time, and yet I will hold him in this place for a while in my heart feeling his love and seeing his smile, hearing the gentle surf of that day, feeling the sun on our skin, and sharing a peaceful moment of connection.

Happy birthday, Papa. I’m so glad we had an extra six years. I love you ❤️

Until next time I offer these words of wisdom for better or for worse. Please take them with a grain of salt for we each live our own individual truths. Our mission while we are here is to understand, accept, and celebrate that one very simple, but incredibly significant fact. For all this, I am grateful.

Closing the Circle

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We spent the long weekend honoring my dad and laying to rest his and Mom's ashes. We now close the circle of her sudden passing six years ago and complete this chapter of learning how to become spontaneous caregivers for Dad who has needed us so desperately.

I realize on the other side of this weekend I can now start to reframe the stories, experiences, hardships, and heartaches of being parented by two incredibly lovely, yet devastatingly out of balance individuals. They were trying to do their best. Life is full of contrasts, isn’t it? I have so much deep healing to do and stories to understand. I know I would not be who I am today without the family who raised me. Blessing upon blessing, I have also been raised (and continue to be raised) by so very many who are not related to me through bloodlines.

One thing I know for certain is that I have needed community to help care for and advocate for us especially in dire times. I've learned I cannot and do not want to journey on my own in this lifetime. No man (or woman) is an island, yet this is the message I was taught and shown for 42 years. For my mom and my maternal lineage especially, asking for assistance was shown to be a weakness and significant lack of character. How debilitating this message was and how my heart goes out to all who are not able to trust others and reach out for help when they need it most.

Now more than ever we also need to be fully accountable, honest, and vulnerable. How else are we going to make it? Every day this is our choice.

The clarity created out of absolute necessity these past six years has provided a canvas upon which to build a solid new foundation. I will begin to build again. Rest is first though: my mind has been overwhelmed, my body is exhausted, and my spirit absolutely needs quiet and stillness and space to learn how to breathe again.

I hope to write more about all of this when I find the balance in my heart and in words. I feel there will be many words to share.

For now, I thank all who have offered love, support, and encouragement through the years. I see you and I hold you close. For the first time in so many years, I am starting to see the light of hope and joy and connection in the future again.

Image: the meadow space at home where I plan to spend a lot of time in the coming months laying on the ground and coming back to foundational basics.

Until next time I offer these words of wisdom for better or for worse. Please take them with a grain of salt for we each live our own individual truths. Our mission while we are here is to understand, accept, and celebrate that one very simple, but incredibly significant fact. For all this, I am grateful.

The In-Between

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I spent most of the day in the library earlier this week diving into a new course dedicated to rest and softly holding the liminal space within sacred transition. This is a year for my heart to honor endings and new beginnings, and I am ready. I also realize I cannot do this alone as these in-between spaces are massive.

Between the in-between the other day I hugged and chatted with my kiddo between her classes and then my man and I got out for a sunset hike in the chill with our pup (that in-between of the light and dark of day at dawn and dusk has always been my favorite light).

In these small moments that feel so special and big in the moment, I realize how much I appreciate the in-between. No matter who we are or where we are, we are constantly in these in-between spaces. It is not always as comfortable, yet all are absolutely necessary for proper transition from one chapter to another.

Until next time I offer these words of wisdom for better or for worse. Please take them with a grain of salt for we each live our own individual truths. Our mission while we are here is to understand, accept, and celebrate that one very simple, but incredibly significant fact. For all this, I am grateful.

Active Labor

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Almost a full month out now from my dad’s passing and I am beginning to rise with fresh eyes and renewed heart. I have seen how his beautiful and effortless transition has freed him from his great suffering and me from his care. Becoming a spontaneous caregiver and logistics holder for my dad six years ago has changed me forever. There have been many blessings, and I also realize the life-altering events that have taken place. I am beginning to deeply grieve the life I was creating at that time. These past six years have not allowed me to pay much attention to anything other than what is directly in front of me each day with Dad's needs and the immediate needs of our family.

It did not take long for me to recognize these years have felt deeply akin to my active labor process when my daughter was emerging from my amazing body 22 years ago. Six years of active labor with Dad’s release have gifted me the moment that, upon his passing, I sat back in full awe and utter amazement. I held Dad through the morning and then through the moment of his transition. Once words could be found, I shared with Dad’s beautiful hospice nurse that I felt like I had just witnessed a baby being born… it was nothing short of miraculous. This feeling of amazement was so very similar to the miraculous moment I held my daughter in my arms for the first time.

I recognize the gift of seeing this world washed anew and what life means to me now. I am raw, vulnerable, exhausted, grieving the life I thought I would embody, and I am hopeful. I am celebrating the love and the friendship my dad and I still share even though he is no longer embodied. I am grateful for having an amazing support network holding me tightly even now. I am holding all of this so tenderly and with immense presence and care.

My husband said to me upon Dad’s passing, “You have been running a marathon every day for six years. It is now time for you to rest.” And so, I shall. I will rest. I will grieve. I will also rebuild with a completely new foundation of what I am understanding now to be aligned with my path and calling as I embrace this second half of my life.

Until next time I offer these words of wisdom for better or for worse. Please take them with a grain of salt for we each live our own individual truths. Our mission while we are here is to understand, accept, and celebrate that one very simple, but incredibly significant fact. For all this, I am grateful.