Life is a strange dance. We think it will look one way and sometimes it turns out entirely different.
Or maybe it does turn out the way we thought it would, except the process of how it turns out looks different…
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March marks 9 months on the island of Kauai. I have visceral feels and a felt-sense of this time last year, as this was the beginning of the end of life in Alaska and March-June were about to become these mad months of good-byes, letting go’s, and the exhaustive tasks of selling the house, closing my practice, and taking care of the tangible steps needed to move. I tire even thinking of it now.
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I was told this would be a year of integration, and I feel that.
Sometimes I look back on life in Alaska, and how that life was no more the day we got on a plane and crossed the ocean to Kauai last July.
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New year, new space, new website. And this the first official post. I’d like to say something BIG or important, but instead all I have is simple reflection and going back to the basics.
The principles of allowance and receiving are on my heart as I write these words. Along with a thoughtful and tender contemplation regarding how I tend to be in the world – – taking the reigns of things, steering the chariot, and trying to make things happen in my life.
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5 sections, 27 poems each. How do you know when something is finished?
Yesterday I counted up the content in each of my poetry book’s sections and found there are precisely 27 pieces in each.
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How far can your dreams stretch if you don’t tell them they have limits?
I’m working on stretching mine these days. There’s been starts and stops. Bursts of activity followed by the crash of nothingness. Uncertainty. Creativity. Feeling lost then re-finding my way.
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It can be hard to slow ourselves down and hard to slow life down, and yet it is essential for our soul’s wellness that we find ways to do so.
I live on an island, so it’s a little bit easier here, there’s something about being surrounded by and supported by water that invites you to take things at an easier, less frenetic space.
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What nobody tells you about soul callings is that while following one will be the most beautiful and rewarding thing you’ll ever do, it will also the hardest.
The path of the soul is invisible; it is one walked by faith and not by sight, by trusting in your intuition and heart, by working with whatever higher powers or energies you may believe in, and trusting the guidance you receive along the way.
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The rain beats in hard sheets as the power flickers and the jungle bends and sways. The elements are strong today, its a bit of a Mystic Monday and it’s impossible not be tuned in.
My brother was humming around me as I sat writing to the rain earlier; I lit his favorite scented candle to say “welcome” since spirits are drawn to scents they loved when they were here in human form. Love, he tells me, write about love.
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I took a big step the other day.
I made business cards that described myself as “Intuitive, Healer, Psychologist.”
I’m not quite sure what comes next; I’m going off of an “if you build it, they will come” modus operandi.
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It’s hard to believe we’re here.
I woke up today with a purring kitty; we laid side by side on my pillow, chins resting on hands and paws; watched the jungle light go from deep night green to dawn light moss to verdant day break. A few roosters wandered by, a feral cat, too many birds to count; Shire’s eyes widened into saucer’s as she watched and wondered at this new space.
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They say when it comes to change to start right now, don’t wait, change something- even if it’s just one small thing.
I’ve been thinking about this advice as I sit on a red couch in a yellow room surveying an almost empty house. This will all be gone come Monday, and, come Monday night, so will we; ending this chapter in Alaska to go write a new book in Kauai.
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I don’t know why it has taken so long for me to catch up with myself.
I’ve been transitioning in identity, feeling stuck between two worlds, my life in Alaska not quite matching who I am.
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It’s like a still silent hush came over my office yesterday.
My suite mates coincidentally gone this week; the incessant clang of construction going on outside mysteriously muted.
Moving in a year’s time became 6 month’s time became 3 month’s became 3 weeks became my last day, yesterday, after a decade in my practice.
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I have a new book coming out in June.
I pushed to get it published for this particular time line, because we are leaving Alaska in 6 weeks, and since all of these poems were written during my time here, it seemed poetic for publication to occur while still here and not in Kauai, where hopefully I will have new stories to tell.
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We have a for sale sign attached to the front of our house, and it is an odd sight indeed to see- knowing it is going on the market and actually putting it on the market are two different things entirely.
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I just blew a layer of dust off of this page.
Writing and upkeep of any site has not been at the forefront of life right now.
March was mad and twisty and sideways, April a keyboard of busy punching out letters and lines and time so fast I really couldn’t keep up.
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Last week I wrote about flying sideways during this season in life. The sun was out, the birds were coming back, I wrapped myself in spring and used her as my muse.
This week winter has arrived outside my window.
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Past mid-March already and the first day of spring.
The days of this month are sliding sideways, sometimes rubbing against one another getting a little stuck, sometimes slipping on past. Too quick to realize.
“It’s no use going back to yesterday, because I was a different person then.”
-Lewis Carroll, Alice in Wonderland
One of the things that I love about poetry is that in the span of just a few short stanzas and phrases an entire story can be told.
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