i’ve been pulling these mighty little oak trees out of plant pots and gravel in my garden. they are tenacious and willing, abundant and something to marvel about. somehow the practice of pulling them is grounding me, restoring faith, keeping the calm. i suppose it is the renewal that speaks to me, the reminder of the commitment nature has to thrive and make use of whatever nutrients are available. to grow where planted.

recent travel found me strangely homesick. i missed my family, despite the joy of traipsing through new country, sitting with a wise teacher, and drinking blackberry brandy in an 18th century farmhouse (i know, right?). for years, solo travel offered sweet relief from what looked to be endless responsibility and accountability. i felt tethered and trapped. i wanted to run away for brief bits of time, to know the me separate from them.

in these new-to-me woods, i welcomed the company and conversation of a trailmate who is significantly younger than i, causing me to reflect on where i was in my late twenties. i had two children, was moving out of state for the first time, was unsure and ambitious and proving. i was restless to be ok. i was starving for peace and wanted so badly to feel grounded. i loved my children more than myself. underneath it all, i think my greatest fear was that i would never be enough for them, or for me.

it is so powerfully poignant how we simply have to live long enough, journey deep enough, expand and contract enough, to find our own ruby slippers. this experience i am having of deep peace, of acceptance, could not have come without the demons and doorways i’ve slayed and kissed, passed through and slammed. i can now look at the uncomfortable memories and hold compassion and hope for the younger self who thought that loving was not enough. i can forgive her for trying so hard to be ok. and i can look at the miracle of the faces i share my life with, and be grateful that we made it here, together.

now that i am home, i realize that on this recent trip, i did in fact tap into the truth, rest, and sustenance that i went looking for. only this time it is in the actual homecoming, finding the buddha, the dharma, and the sangha all here, right now. it is in the awakening to this time and space, and the savoring of where i’ve been.

and so i am able to sit here now, writing these words and letting them pass through my fingers without regret–and i can step out into another sun-filled day, holy and bright; unbound, open, honest, and a little more free.

There is no controlling life.
Try corralling a lightning bolt,
containing a tornado. Dam a
stream and it will create a new
channel. Resist, and the tide
will sweep you off your feet.
Allow, and grace will carry
you to higher ground. The only
safety lies in letting it all in –
the wild and the weak; fear,
fantasies, failures and success.
When loss rips off the doors of
the heart, or sadness veils your
vision with despair, practice
becomes simply bearing the truth.
In the choice to let go of your
known way of being, the whole
world is revealed to your new eyes.

Allow, by Dana Faulds

i’ve got that buzzy pre-travel feeling. that one that, always right before, balks and questions whether i really ought to go. of course, i know too well the comforts of habit, the ease of losing myself in the needs and routines of my family, and the need i have, deep down, to balance this blessed life with adventure, retreat, and pattern-breaking.

the past few weeks have brought both radiant sunshine and drizzly grey, both inside and out. i’ve detoxed and submerged, reduced and savored. i’ve carefully curated what enters both my body and my home and the benefits are revealing themselves. i can honestly say that i am greeting spring and the rapidly approaching summer with joy and resolution, with a (mostly) calm belly and with a lightness of being that i’ve longed for after some not-so-easy winter storms.

so tomorrow will find me on three airplanes, so that i can nuzzle up to some different mountains and explore a stretch of trail i’ve dreamt of walking on. i will then be retreating at another place i’ve wanted to go to for almost a decade, and sharing the weekend with a teacher that has had a profound impact on my life for the past several years.

every day, it is my practice to ask for the greatest ease, grace, and abundance, for myself and for my family, so that we can be of service to our highest potential and work on this planet and in this lifetime. at the start of this year, with this daily prayer in mind, as well as mindful of the delicate state i was in at the time, i chose carefully what travel i would do this year and what wells i would pilgrimage toward for truth, rest, and sustenance. this is the first of three journeys that intuitively called to me. my word for the year is home, and each of these 2013 travels feels like a homecoming. a return to source, simplicity, silence.

i am grateful. see you on the flip side.

The three facets of true refuge–awareness, truth, and love–come alive as we dedicate our presence to them. ~Tara Brach

it doesn’t much matter if i am cashmere and you are lace, if i am adobe and you are marble.

what matters is that we know what we are.

if that smooth bark of the eucalyptus tree gives you insight, then it belongs with you.

and the more we surround ourselves by the shapes, the textures, the patterns, the light, the places, and the people that our hearts innately grasp toward, the more we are guided in, the more we are brought back home.

it is not about accumulating, it is about recognizing and eliminating what does not speak the truth.

it is about our senses in action, in response, in communication, consciously, with our depth.

if it really is all energy, which i believe it is, then of course this scent, this view, this season, this warm cup, this song, this flavor, and the weave of this fabric matter.

these objects and elements show me who i am, help me to relax inside, open doorways into my fullness, and help me to better express myself.

and the more i know who i am, the more i can connect to who you are. our separation, our suffering, diminishes.

there is legitimacy in your longing. i have said it before. and it keeps coming back.

Don’t share borrowed insights, there is no transmission in that.
Only share experiential insights. Real teachers practice, transmitting the formless into form.
~Sarah Powers (from my personal notes taken during Insight Yoga workshop)

(the book featured in the above image is True Refuge, by Tara Brach)

i have a fascination with carcass and decay. i am intrigued when i can see what is inside. winter’s veil amplifies the urge–as my own inner world gets caught in the grey undertow of  fear and illusion, i am lured to excavate.

my work in the world right now is within myself and with my family. it is breakfast making, errand running, peace-keeping, college touring, and navigating the stresses of ambitious teens. i am the wing-woman. i am the mother. i am the wife. i am the supporter and forgiver and believer.  i know in the deepest part of my guts that this is where i am meant to be right now. i am better, my family is better. long ignored parts of me are healing with each day that is focused on simplicity and surrender.

but still, i remember the thrill of sitting on that dusty floor in india and of finding and meeting the global community that i became a part of. i fear having lost it. i fear being left behind or forgotten or, worse, being wasted potential. as i sit with my anxious demons, i feel these waves rise up. i question my choices and i wonder if i am underestimating my capacity. but then, i toss myself into the possibility of peddling my wares, deadlines and proposals and accountability to others, and i feel myself seize up inside. i know this is the time to root into bone, for stability and blood-making. and yet, my faith is challenged.

what there is time for in my life now is the depth and discomfort of introspection. there is time for the real lived experience of breath and betrayal, of intimacy and idolization. i have a relationship with my own inner compass in a way that i have yet to know in a life of seeking and distracting, ashrams and incense; of being both student and teacher. i am getting to know my transverse abdominals, my ugliest terrors, my truest dreams. i am lonely often. i am afraid often. i compare and judge often. i am triggered often. i feel vapid and shallow and empty often. i am pathetically insecure often. still, strangely, i am feeling more right, more at home, than i ever have.

not so strangely, one of the greatest solaces for me is here, on this page, with you. this is where things unbind, where grip is released, where curiosity leads to language, and eventually to more freedom inside. i tell the truth of my story as best i can, allusion and metaphor protecting those i love. i am so grateful for those of you who come, who take the time to write, who see something of themselves in what i share. it is true that we all just want to be seen and heard, for our lives to matter. i hope that what i do here, little though it may be right now, helps you to know that you are seen.

and in return, i am not asking for anything.
i currently have nothing to sell, nothing to give away, no course or book or retreat or offering.
i really look forward to the time in my life and in my body that will allow for these things.
but for now, i just want to know that you are out there. that we are living in grace, together.

Because nothing
Can deter or distract me
From keeping the appointment I made
So very long ago
To create heaven on earth
With you.

~From Waiting Room, by Jill Lurie