it is not unfamiliar, this place.

though i have grown weary of it.

noisy and sharp, inhibiting rest. ego on alert, fables and accusations running rampant.

i only want to feel at ease. elemental. not wondering if i lit the right candle, said the right prayer, or missed the portal.

it might be hormones, or darker shades of what i have always known.

(fear, unexpressed pain, hunger, loneliness, grief, anger, shame–whatever)

only now, i refuse to consider that i haven’t “worked” hard enough. or that i haven’t sat in the fire long enough. or that i am lazy, inconsistent, uncommitted, or indulgent. that i am faint of heart.

i am none of those things.

though there are plenty of arrow wounds that suggest i have believed otherwise.

this is the day that i begin to understand. that i challenge the separation that bores canyons in me.

separation from source. from love. from beauty. from you.

i think that salvation is in the letting out. the letting go. the letting in.

the allowing.

and the help.

(the tree, the camera, the nourishment, the time, the forgiveness, the care, the now, the us)

photo: shelter. 11.11.11. butterfly beach, santa barbara. iphone.

in all things, i look for the ways we are the same. every day i listen to the soundbites of the chatter we exchange, and what i hear is the hunger to connect, to tell someone. we want to be seen, held, and heard. we want to own some visual, visceral, felt recognition that we are here. that there is progress in our evolution. that all the effort, watering, plowing through, will yield something that feeds us.

today is one of those days where i feel saturated in simplicity and complexity. i can hear the swooshing of my heart in my ears. i cry when i read or witness anything that recognizes our need for love. i have awareness of the density of this cup, the bitterness of this tea, the hum of electricity rising from the keyboard and into my fingertips. i taste date sugar in my teeth, tenderness in my belly, gaps in my cognition.

and i know that you also know what this experience is. to be stimulated and depleted. to be starved and stuffed. surrendered and resisting. to be nothing and everything. here and there. the same.

and to need to bury our faces in the words and shoulders and stories of someone else who gets it.

Wisdom tells me I am nothing. Love tells me I am everything. And between the two my life flows. ~Nisargdatta Maharaj

photo: the view as the fog lifted. santa barbara. october 2011.

i am once again surrendering to the obvious. to the low energy and deflation, to the will of my wise heart telling me not to push. i’ve been resisting for days, really weeks now, since returning from mexico. sitting idle at the computer when what i know i need to do is to sit with intention, empty, at my altar. feeling guilty that i’ve yet to put more of the mexico project out there, but also knowing that i can’t do good work when i don’t feel well.

there is a total rewiring happening inside of me. my body is manifesting all the aftershocks of half a decade spent in uncertainty, in a restless push and pull with big growth-spurts and energy expenditure. all i want to do is to rest, eat well, rest, be in nature, rest, meditate, rest, exercise, rest, be with my family, rest, be with friends, and rest.

it seems to be all that i can do to get my people out the door and back in again. to stir and chop and fold and carry. the fatigue i feel has me fearing i will never feel vital enough to accomplish all that i want to, or , worse yet, that i will disappoint all those who’ve supported me and look forward to seeing the work. and the wise one somewhere deep inside me knows that if i just let go and be with what is, tend to the feelings and sensations that are living now, that this wave will crash.

the wise one also knows that being on a cleansing diet, drinking lots of green juice, returning to yoga, and tapping into all the wellness resources i am so fortunate to have available to me are the sure path to riding this wave with the most grace and ease. and, ultimately, that the images and stories waiting to be shared will get the care and attention they deserve once i have the clarity to give it.

and so i keep learning. again and again. compassion, kindness, and all that good stuff. pacing and the time it takes to be well. that i have the choice to open, and to close, the doorways of permission and expectation. the goal always was, and remains to be, freedom.

photos: in Carlos’ orchard. Copper Canyon, MX.  August 2011.

it hurts to be stung. a lot. the sensation is one of fire, needles, pressure that demands attention. i was stung by a bee on the bridge of my nose while hiking this week. i wept as a terrified four year old. a mild allergy made me fear losing my breath, adrenaline surged my heart.

but, i was not alone. i was held, nurtured, walked gently to the car and taken home to rest.

i thought of other kinds of stings. of being misunderstood, rejected, unseen, and unsupported. especially by those we should feel most safe with. when compassion eludes us, especially toward ourselves, the sting is that much more painful.

i read a beekeeper’s account that when we put our mind on the sting, the physiological experience of the venom is much, much worse. they have actual evidence of this.

the bee this week reminded me to get back into my body. to stay present with the vulnerability, with the fear, and with the love and support that my adult self has all around me. i carry sadness for the ways i was stung in my life, accumulated memories where silence, unkindness, and withholding  led me to make decisions about my young self that i was somehow flawed, unworthy, unlovable. while the adult part of me knows these things to be untrue, sometimes, still, i forget.

the shame of feeling these young feelings is usually the worst sting of all.

but being loved, held, supported despite being seen as a frightened and weeping four year old? being told i am beautiful and adored despite a swollen face? better than two benedryl and twelve hours sleep. better than years of therapy and all the comfort food in the world.

may we all know this experience. to be stung back into awakening. and to be loved, without judgment, fear, or condition, all the way from four to forty.

note: just 8 days left to support the kickstarter campaign for the next leg of the Doorways Project. i’ve added an update to address concerns about my traveling in Mexico. the support i’ve received so far has blown me over, from friends to talented photographers and film-makers that i look up to and adore. thank you for seeing and believing in me, despite my swollen face and lingering four year old thoughts. i cannot wait to show up and witness CASA and One Heart World-Wide in action; and to be your eyes and ears for the important stories the midwives and mothers need to be told.

photo: on the same trail where the bee got me. iphone. august 2011.