we debated the existence of god and burned messages to the universe, drank fresh green juice and ate 6 kinds of chocolate. we wore our best lounge wear paired with fantastic jewelry. we burned the fire all weekend and walked in the cold crisp air. we were visited by a magical fox and let go of the past year. i chased the sunrise in my flannel pajamas and lie under the stars thanking whoever and whatever is out there for the grace and abundance in my life. we all showed up just as we are, connected,  and came away with just what we needed. i am home now, jet lagged but without longing. because i know they are still with me. and we’ll return to our hidden cottage in the cotswolds for years to come.

photos: annual weekend in a cotswold cottage with the fantastic bbc. jo, emma, megg, sus, sas, pen, and leonie: i love you.

Every girl deserves a chance to learn, to connect, to be. These girls attend a school for Tarahumara girls in Cerocahui, Mexico. I was fortunate to spend an afternoon with them on my last day in the Copper Canyon with the One Heart Team. I had been sick the day before and was still a bit woozy, unsure of whether I wanted to go. I’m so glad that I did, because these images remind me that the spirit of a girl, when activated, is nothing short of pure power and possibility.

This post is in honor of The Girl Effect and the blogging campaign that Tara Sophia Mohr has inspired. Please take the time to watch the video and decide, for yourself, how you will make a difference in the life of a girl.

i am thin-skinned and slippery. thrown down by the ghost in the cross-walk and stunned into contortion and compromise.

i am no-sense and without words of comprehension, human and forgetting.

i am not tough. i am not able to sustain prolonged periods of cavalry and command.

i am water and wimp, softness and salve. i want for peace, strong arms, and a soft wool blanket.

every time i go away, every time i stretch myself, i am humbled by how long it seems to take before i can feel the ground again.

it takes many brief reminders, like the glancing of fingertips, to feel, in my body, where i belong.

photo: siblings in Fajardo. August 2011.

i arrive in layers, parts, pieces. the more primitive show up first. want, need, fragile, and fight. i  arrive tenderness and ill-timed, and with the irrepressible urge to scrub down the refrigerator from top to bottom. i am impatience with the car that needs washing and a body longing to do nothing. i am judgment of the fatigue and the dusty suitcase on the floor. the adventure craves the domestic, but rarely speaks of this. the pleasure of the clean cave, the zen of food and rolling socks in pairs. the sweeping and the eggs.

meanwhile, i download and name files, replace lost sunglasses and the shoes i gave away, and remain mostly mute while i wait for the rest of me. the more graceful parts. the ones that communicate, remember, translate, and transcribe. they tend to arrive more quickly when i sit still.

photo: Tarahumara baskets for sale, train-side, somewhere between Divisadero and Bahuichivo. August 2011.