Boho Girl

This is my last post in this dreamy space. I honor how it has cradled and carried me.

My loves…I have a new h{OM}e.

Come, sit on the blanket of my fae field of dandelions. Waiting for you is a cup of earl gray tea with a touch of lavender, honey and cream. Inhale…make a wish on a dandelion, exhale…there your wishes go, dancing into the sky waiting to be born.

Mmmmm. Hope to see you there.

Love,

Denise

{my favorite feather, given to me by Rain. it reminds me that it is okay to need softness in my life}

As I sit here at my desk facing the window and little rain drops lightly fall onto the glass, I am feeling a deep peace. This peace comes from a dear friend reaching out and sending me a poem that spoke deeply to my heart. So deeply that I feel it puts words to the journey I am currently on and it puts an end to my quest to find the words, to name it. That is a weight lifted. As I read it tears fell and I whispered “yes…that is it. every. single. word.”

I wanted to share it with hope that you to may find comfort in these words as well.

A BLESSING FOR ONE WHO IS EXHAUSTED::
by John O’Donohue*

When the rhythm of the heart becomes hectic,
Time takes on the strain until it breaks;
Then all the unattended stress falls in
On the mind like an endless, increasing weight,

The light in the mind becomes dim.
Things you could take in your stride before
Now become laborsome events of will.

Weariness invades your spirit.
Gravity begins falling inside you,
Dragging down every bone.

The tide you never valued has gone out.
And you are marooned on unsure ground.
Something within you has closed down;
And you cannot push yourself back to life.

You have been forced to enter empty time.
The desire that drove you has relinquished.
There is nothing else to do now but rest
And patiently learn to receive the self
You have forsaken for the race of days.

At first your thinking will darken
And sadness take over like listless weather.
The flow of unwept tears will frighten you.

You have traveled too fast over false ground;
Now your soul has come to take you back.

Take refuge in your senses, open up
To all the small miracles you rushed through.

Become inclined to watch the way of rain
When it falls slow and free.

Imitate the habit of twilight,
Taking time to open the well of color
That fostered the brightness of day.

Draw alongside the silence of stone
Until its calmness can claim you.
Be excessively gentle with yourself.

Stay clear of those vexed in spirit.
Learn to linger around someone of ease
Who feels they have all the time in the world.

Gradually, you will return to yourself,
Having learned a new respect for your heart
And the joy that dwells far within slow time.

{thank you, kirsten. i love you.}

I remember in the dark of the night, walking up to a friend’s cabin at Squam a few years back. She and a few others were huddled in front, bundled in sweaters and scarves but their hair was soaked. Each of their faces were filled with a rosy-cheeked glow. I knew something went down and when I asked, they excitedly told me how they just returned from skinny dipping by moonlight in the lake. I remember feeling my heart take flight for each of them and at the same time, it ached to feel that free in my body and comfortable in my skin.

I’ve attracted quite a few free spirited friends in my life. I lived vicariously through their stories of running naked with people in a field or soaking nude in a hot springs. I’ve often wondered what it would feel like to be so uninhibited that way. I wondered if I was capable of not being self conscious. I grew up in a very modest household. We didn’t walk around naked like some of my friend’s families. We always dressed or went to the bathroom in private. I honor this way of being too. I am grateful that I considered my body, my temple sacred when in romantic relationships at such a young age. All of that served me so well then.

But now, especially lately, I ache for a freedom and acceptance and celebration of my body. Perhaps its turning 40. Perhaps its me wanting to release the wounds left from (in)fertility and the doubts that crept in about me being fully woman. Perhaps its me being more open to the call of sisters long before me that danced under the moon with their skin glowing and curves swaying up on a mountaintop where shame didn’t exist. Perhaps me pulling the layers of clothing off would feel symbolic to me of renewal and rebirth and transformation in this new world I am living in. Whatever it is and I know I don’t really need to know what it is exactly yet…but this ache led me to something so beautiful that happened yesterday.

A new organic farmer friend of mine invited me over to this glorious house where she is house sitting up on a hill over looking the bay. In my mind, I imagined us snuggling up on the couch with tea and soaking in this very first time her and I had alone. Any other time we were together with both of my boys. Her and I have been longing for girl time. When I arrived, the sun came out and warmed our skin after a spell of such chilled weather, so we decided to say out on the deck. She had told me she put the hot tub on and that she wanted to go in nude. I sat with her on the deck, as we both were petting a cat and I felt my heart pounding in my chest. She held me gently with her gaze, and I felt the tears come and I shared with her how healing this will be for me and that I have never been fully nude out in the open with a friend. I knew this was the time. The time to shed the temptation to hide, to shed shame and to accept I am fully woman, along side this other woman…fully woman. She was moved that this was new and tender and that she was the one to honor it all with me.

I found myself wanting to savor the moment. I shed my clothing one by one, slowly. We then soaked our bodies and it was the most natural feeling. Mmmmm…water on skin, sun on face, crisp breeze on shoulders, the sounds of nature echoing around us. I wondered why it took me so long to be in this space but at the same time, I also honored the perfect timing of it all. And now I get it. I get the healing power of being fully nude in mother nature alone or among people you feel safe with. Like a friend said to me yesterday, it felt like a baptism and a coming home to an ancient part of me that wants to be heard and felt and seen and loved and held divine like a newborn is fresh from the womb and into our arms.

This photo was taken shortly after our time together in the tub. Her and I were on our knees, looking out the window, reading from a book of Buddhist quotes. My skin still moist, my dreads still dripping, the peace radiating from my heart. I wanted to take this photo to remember the complete surrender I felt in this moment. The connection to God and Goddess and all things living and breathing. One love surrounding me, within me.

When I looked at this image, I cried. Yes. THAT is how it felt. There it is. Baptism captured.

finally able to hang the hammock we’ve had all these years

I’m moving so much slower these days, folks. Not in a lethargic way. But in a peaceful way. After so many years of yearning, stretching, reaching, going, wanting, I am finally being still. My mind feels quieter, simpler. My heart feels less complicated. I didn’t think this was possible and I am not questioning it too much. But everything feels more fluid and our rhythm feels soft and lazy and in the moment. At first it felt foreign to me, like I was missing something and I ached, perhaps even grieved the noise that used to be inside of me but I think I was detoxing and now I am feeling more cleansed and open and able to hear the bird songs and gaze into a neighbors eyes longer and be perfectly fine observing Cedar in his world without needing to upload the photo immediately to the internet. Just simpler. Pausing. Listening. Stillness.

I told a friend this week that I think this is meditation for me. I thought I would come here and just devour the wisdom the Pacific Northwest had to offer but I notice rather than harvest it all, I am sitting with it, being IN it…and letting it speak to me slowly. One voice at a time. One plant at a time. One flower at a time.

cedar gathering our flowers in a mason jar

I went on a walk today with a few neighbor ladies. Twice my age. Sage’s, they are. One of them took me through her enchanting over grown garden. She showed me how to dig a plant and re-plant it. She showed me which flowers of hers I could take to my yard. A young man came out from behind her house and she introduced me. Told me she just met him today at a pizza place and he was new in town and needed some work. He had kind big blue eyes and unruly blond hair. He reminded me of Cedar and how he may be when older. I invited him over to our place to show him what is growing around us and how I plan to plant tons and tons of lavender. I feel connected to lavender. I want it everywhere. He had just spent some time with a lavender farmer at the market. It was serendipity.

lavender we just planted on the side of the house

He sat with us and shared his vision of sustainable communal living while sitting on our front lawn in lotus position. My husband was laying in the hammock nearby, listening. Cedar was rolling a ball over to him while he talked. He offered to help us with our gardening. And I just found my heart full. My phone wasn’t near. My laptop tucked away upstairs. For a second, I felt what it was to be living a life how it would be without technology and I wanted more of it. What would that be like? To just be so fully available to what is in front of you? I think I have felt so distracted for so long and now there is so much clearing. I am pondering it all.

My sister is coming tomorrow for a week. I am hoping being here is as healing this time as it was last time for her.

Sending each of you stillness. Om. One love.

We are nearing towards the end. Almost our whole life in boxes. Everyone’s emotions ebbing and flowing. Moving your bodies and things into a brand new home in a brand new State takes purging to a whole new level. Not just the physical purging but the emotional kind. I’ve been finding old letters and photos and reading through old journal entries. I have found folders filled with paperwork from doctors and acupuncturists regarding our fertility journey. Folders filled with every single piece of the adoption pie. Memories…memories that these four walls held sometimes gently, other times fiercely. I am grateful for all of it. I am also weary of it and ready to move forward from what has begun to feel like being a bit stuck. We’re all sensing the forward movement. We’re feeling the peeling, the opening, the readying for something we’ve been craving for ages. Inspiration is beginning to weave back into our thoughts. Yesterday I was sitting on the kitchen floor, cleaning out what was underneath our kitchen sink. Listening to Mindy Gledhill’s album Anchor and swaying back and forth. Singing. Laughing. Feeling so much Joy. Today I sat in that same spot after my husband and son left for an hour. As soon as they walked out the door, I wept in my hands. Feeling really raw today and weary and trying not to question it all. Probably overwhelm. Probably not getting enough sleep. Probably stress and worry. Or perhaps just RELEASE. I find it interesting how much I am vacillating.

Been thinking a lot about my family. That love is so solid and constant, no matter what absolute crazy is going on…I think of my mother and father…my two sisters…my nieces and nephews…my mother in law and Boho Bro and I just want to send them love right now. I wish I could float to each of them in a tiny bubble and offer them the peace and joy that bubbles bring to Cedar. In times of big transition, you hold onto what feels constant and true.

I may be offline for a few weeks. I may not. I will try to post little photos and stories but I know my life is about to be such a whirl wind of NEW. Cedar’s been able to work through all the chaos in a way that has surprised each of us. He is bending and flowing and then melting like we’ve never seen him melt before. Packing has been slower because of this. We pack a box and then we sit with him and stay present. We pack a box, then we play with him. We pack a box and we hold him. I have learned that he is more peaceful with order. Its so interesting to see their personalities evolving. The other day he picked up a crumpled up paper and walked into the kitchen and placed it in the waste basket. He did it again with a piece of fruit he was done with. Again and again. I see him put away his toys when he wants to play with another. This is all new and fascinating. So we are trying our best to maintain order in the chaos so that he can feel some normalcy through it all.  Although I know I cannot carry everything and that chaos will happen and he will melt again and that is when I take deep breaths and sit on the floor and laugh or sway or cry or do both at once.  Transition is big.  Emotions through transition are big.  Time to leave our safe cocoon and stretch our wings and fly like three beautiful butterflies.  We might start out wobbly…but oh how the flight will feel GOOD.

Bubbles…ahhh…bubbles. How I would love to take a ride in a bubble tonight.

pixie, cedar, me…photo by stacy

It seems I have to go back to purge piles or boxes three or four times until I am left with what I truly need or nourishes me.  Each time I come back to these piles, I find that I am in a deeper mindset of simplicity, so it is easier to lighten the load and let go of the stuff I was holding onto.  I feel like this is a metaphor for my life lately…not just with moving but with all things.  The Tao of Packing. ; )