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

i’m trying something new today, inspired by my friend meg’s beautiful new site. i love meg’s stories, how she crafts and nurtures them, but what i love especially is hearing her tell them, in her own voice. i highly encourage you to take the time to explore her new space and offerings. she, and her work, are wonderful.

i often leave myself voice memos during the day with my iphone, because usually when the words come is not when i am available to write them. last thursday, i left myself one of these memos as my day unfolded. this time though, instead of writing it all down a few days later, like i usually do, i re-recorded my stream of thoughts into an audio file. i am sharing it here with you, perhaps because i still long for new ways to see and hear one another. because i am focused currently on home and family and don’t always know how to bridge the greater themes from here. because maybe i haven’t been able to write the waves that crash in my psyche and in my gut. and because, meg inspired me.

and, with that, click the link below to hear my voice, in one take, sharing freestyle about an epic ordinary day.

epic ordinary day

note: audio will play immediately, so put on those headphones!

this past week has offered repeated opportunities to be in the presence of strength, power, and humility. of grace, resilience, and commonality.

i hugged a Nobel Peace Prize winner, supported a deep and spiritually-skillful woman laboring to birth her first child, and shared a 2am meal with the radiant midwife who caught my own two children. i photographed a newly minted Birth Center that was manifested through the passion and persistence of an old friend. i sat on a large warm rock with another friend and chanted a duet to Laxmi. i felt the sky pour down rain, the sun shine golden, the autumn wind, the waxing moon, and stars bright just before dawn.

i witnessed subtle and profound exchanges. humanity and divinity meeting. energy reserves pushing through thresholds. the joy of accomplishment and the necessity of having our pain felt by another.

i no longer question why it is me who is called to these encounters. i no longer ask “how did i get here?” when i am in a moment with another that astounds me.

i know that i am here to experience, capture, and share beauty and connection.

to be in the presence of.

and that all i must do is surrender and remain in a state of awe.

photo: Lucila. A traditional midwife in her home exam room. San Luis de La Paz, Guanajuato, MX. August 2011. Her story coming soon.

it happens every time.

i love the adventure and i am always challenged by the leaving. the comfort of my people. their love, their voices, their touch. they are my home.

and so here i am. at the airport. leaving for mexico in just three hours. i am filled with poignancy, the vulnerability of living. i’m already in that transition zone–the anticipating coming to meet the experience. there is always fear before departure. the release and the letting go. and there is always buoyancy, too. the messages of belief and the offerings of confidence and faith. i sit here, glass of wine in hand, part of me longing for the warm bodies of home, knowing that this is what it is to truly be awake: to be somewhere between longing and calling. to be rooted and also free. to be loved and to be let go. to trust, to allow, to strategize, and to surrender.

with 23 hours to go, 55 people have backed this leg of the doorways project. the lenses are clean, the notepad is ready. i’m shedding layers of what-if’s and writing to you from the continental airport lounge. i just want to do my part. to give what i’ve got to give.

it’s been a big year for me and my people. we’ve learned what it is to experience separation and to find one another again more deeply in love and rooted than ever before. it is hard to leave them, if only for a little less than two weeks. the truth is that i’ve got a family that rocks my world and a world that rocks my heart.

there is room and time for both. and one would not exist without the other. it is in the fully living, the chest open, that freedom expands. the doorways are everywhere, even in the leaving.

next post will be from san miguel de allende…

photo: when we went blueberry picking. i love the muted, not quite in focus, forms. i love them. july 2011.