there are those times when we have no choice but to retreat. when it is energy and not words. when the oldest, most foundational, primal cell stuff is calling. when the whispers become shouts and the knees find their way to the floor.

it is uncomfortable and necessary and simple and expected. it is every workshop and retreat and therapy session. it is every poet and guru and mystic and shaman. it is the heart that pauses and then fires too fast, and the burning between the eyes.

this is waking up in a sweat, floating above the surface, and too deep for story.

this is about embodiment, alignment, integration. but even this language does not address the grey veil and the terrifying vacuum that precedes it.

i suppose this is the beginning of awakening. of healing. of really becoming.

but all i can presence is now. the now that feels chills between my shoulder blades. the now that seeks solace in the woods, wants pasta, looks to spider webs for guidance, and sleeps better with his hand on my chest.

there are those times when we have no choice but to retreat. when the senses are amplified, when it feels like a choice between light and dark. between static and flow. between love and fear.

and so i have gone in. to be with all of it.

photo: where the shadows meet the light. october 2011.

(in no particular order)

i am exquisitely grateful, open. the citrus candle lit, the red chai steaming, the kirtan playing on the speakers. all these things that make me who i am. scent, sight, tangible. a lover and in love.

the gang was awakened, the inner chorus of critic, shameful child, jealous competitor. i don’t remember inviting them, but they’ve had their way these past couple of weeks while my body made some extra white blood cells to deal with yet another viral insurgent. they’ve made me want to eat cake, watch horrendously unintelligent television (i won’t even tell you), and feel like there are no original thoughts in my head. nothing i have to teach. name callers, they are. fraud. less-than. unmotivated. not nice. i’m doing my best to resist them. and to embrace them.

i’m processing a beautiful shoot for adesso jewelry’s sorellina spring 2012 line. inspired by santa fe, this collection just may be my favorite yet (i say that with each one). the shoot was exhausting. a very hot day in the elements, but totally worth it. i learn with each one. this time the lesson for me is to trust the shot. go deeper. and to tune out the conversation in the background. i’m social and i love to connect. it is hard sometimes while shooting to not want to participate in the chatter, especially when there is a fabulous group of people around that i rarely get to spend time with. but i’m better when i get quiet. i can tell the shots from each look when i went in. and they are the good ones. maybe even great.

i’m wanting to get back to the mexico project. i’m working to get the hours of audio transcribed while sorting out the stories and the images. a good friend reminded me that many of the best stories (think hemingway) were written after many years of absorption. i’m okay with a month or two.

daily green juice, no coffee, no sugar, no gluten, no alcohol. that’s the current food regime. i’m going for wellness. radiance. vitality. i feel tremendously better. more clear. it is not absolute, it is intention. and there is room for pleasure when i want it.

my son is in his last year of elementary school, my daughter a sophomore in high school. they are both thriving, vibrant, sweet humans. fall comes with melancholy, promise, long shadows and new routines. we’ve glided in fairly easily this year. family dinners, especially soup nights, bring me joy.

many people i know are suffering. and simultaneously awakening. i can almost see their chests opening and their bones making blood. i witness how difficult it really is to turn compassion toward the self.

time with quality people. ending each day in my lover’s arms. waking up there. the autumn sun. persimmon season. possibility. healing. finding new muscles in my body and in my heart. rhythm. cycles. kissing goodnight. ocean views and mountain solace. time. plenty of time to cultivate happiness. now. all of it is happening now.

photo: on my not-coffee break yesterday. iphone. september 2011.

it is not that the darkness goes away. it is only that i am learning to love the shadows and appreciate the places where i might be tempted to pull up the curve, both in my photographs and in my life. it is not that my ego doesn’t brush up against pain when i least want it to, sometimes first thing in the morning in the hall of my child’s school. only i see now the axis that is anchored to truth. the transcendent opportunity that is available with edge. i am aware of my choice, of free will, and my brilliant instinct to pull my own hand from the fire.

the game is just a game. the story is just a story. the mind just the mind.

preparing meals, folding laundry, and spending hours in the mountains– this is the stuff of rewiring, clearing, and wildly abandoning every moment that came before this one. this is what my days are full of right now, prayer in motion, and love. deep, honest, revelatory love. for my partner, my children, my community. for rebirth and redefinition. for setting the armour out on the curb to be recycled. for memory foam and high thread counts. for homemade chutney and plans to return to the uk this summer and to india this fall. for listening to my children strum and sing each night and for rain in may. for outstanding women who show me what true service is, who are willing to contract into the realms to better expand into joy. for conscious journeys and the willingness to be shattered into trust. for when the lights line up in my lens and remind me of what is often unseen, but remains steadfast all around.

for forgiveness, for perspective, for doorways to freedom found in the worthiness of embrace.

photos: monday’s walk on mountain drive. santa barbara, ca.

i do not know the next images i will capture with my camera. i do not know the next words i will write. i do not know what the next work is. i do not know from where the abundance will come. i only know that it is coming. that the light is beaming through the window onto the patinaed wall. that the gold vermeil hummingbird is guiding me. that the jungles of peru and the colors of rajasthan are filling my dreams.

i do not know what i will do next. and, for once, i know that i don’t have to. i know that i am exactly where i need to be– at a table in a new paradigm. one that is dripping with honey, wine, and figs. i am seated among those who know. feasting with those who see. and i will do whatever is asked of me in this company, in this state of grace.

this morning, as the music fills my space, as the lazy sunday sun coaxes the roses open, and as the breeze blows open the door just enough to touch my skin–i am overcome in the most expansive of ways. it is light and easeful. it is open. it is receptive and clearly feminine. it is all.

and you, my friend? will you tell me where you have been and how you are? i wonder sometimes who else is here at this grand table…

Every morning I walk like this around the pond, thinking: if the doors of my heart ever close, I am as good as dead.  ~mary oliver

photo: teaser for the abundance and beauty of the fall 2011 photo shoot for adesso jewelry