SLOWING DOWN

I'm a busy bee by nature. I like to be moving, creating, getting s**t done. Sometimes I don't know when to stop. I get so caught up in the busy-ness that I spin myself into a tight little ball. I forget to listen to my body and my heart, even when they're screaming at me to stop.

 With Alexis in Peru for ten days, it was easy for me to let myself get overwhelmed. Aside from keeping up with the little firecracker, I was also running our landscaping business on my own, and keeping up with our SpritySol shops. I was winding myself more tightly, my mind a scrolling to-do list, racing with thoughts and projects and tasks that needed doing. I was missing the magical moments. I was headed towards a crash.

But luckily, I caught myself. I felt the familiar sensation of tightness and stress and I chose to turn away. I took my to-do list and erased half of the tasks. I gave myself permission to give work only the effort needed to get by-- no more. The rest of my time and energy will be spent soaking up these last few weeks as a family of three, not stressing about deadlines or e-mails or freezer meals.

Tai and I explored the river near our house yesterday-- it was the kind of magical afternoon that I will keep tucked into my heart forever. I had to fight my mind at times--- it kept telling me that we needed to get home to water the garden and bring in the laundry-- but I won. I realized that watching my babe splash in the river, bathed in golden summer sunlight was far more important than any task on my to-do list. I tuned in. Slowed down. Breathed in the magic of it all.

MOTHERHOOD

“Through the blur, I wondered if I was alone or if other parents felt the same way I did - that everything involving our children was painful in some way. The emotions, whether they were joy, sorrow, love or pride, were so deep and sharp that in the end they left you raw, exposed and yes, in pain. The human heart was not designed to beat outside the human body and yet, each child represented just that - a parent's heart bared, beating forever outside its chest.”
-Debra Ginsberg

I borrowed these words because no others that I've ever read  or could write myself come as close to capturing the experience of motherhood for me.

As I stand at the doorway of my second child, I feel the same sense of wonder and mystery that I did with my first. The day Tai was born, my heart broke open so widely that it felt, like Ginsberg wrote, that it was beating outside of my chest. I was flooded with a love that was deeper and more piercing than I'd ever felt-- it was overwhelming, beautiful, raw, and yes....painful.

What will it be like this time around? I ask my myself. Now that my heart is already so full and open and beating outside my chest-- how will this new little baby change me? I suppose only time will tell.....

<<Oh, child of mine, I wait in wonderment upon your doorstep-- knowing that your arrival will open my heart in ways I can only imagine.>>

ON DREAMS

I am high on dreams tonight-- floating on the knowledge that anything is possible, that our goals are real and attainable. Sitting on the porch swing with the gentle evening light aglow around me--one babe asleep in bed and the tucked tightly in my belly-- I have the whole world in my hands. Spread out before us is a lifetime of adventure and joy-- trips to far away places, a home built with our own hands, businesses that feed our souls and provide for our family. And all around us there is love-- abundant and free-- fueling us forward, like shooting stars through the night.

WHY BIRTH MATTERS

Natural birth is a topic that I feel passionately about and after sharing Tai's birth story, I wanted to dig a little deeper into the experience and share why is was so influential to me.

“Imagine what might happen if women emerged from their labor beds with a renewed sense of the strength and power of their bodies, and of their capacity for ecstasy through giving birth.” — Dr. Christiane Northrup

As women, we're constantly sent the subtle message that our bodies aren't good enough-- that we can't bring our babies into the world without drugs and/or surgery. Few of us ever get the opportunity to witness a real birth in person. Our only perceptions of birth comes from movies and TV shows-- where it's shown to be a crisis situation-- the birthing mother flat on her back in a hospital bed, screaming hysterically while doctors and nurses shout at her to push. We almost never see birth being presented as beautiful right of passage-- and without first hand experience, we never get to feel the magical energy surrounding birth.

I'm grateful that my mom instilled in me trust in my body and in my ability to birth babies. In recounting our birth stories (something she did every year on our birthdays) my mom never once used the word "pain" to describe her experience. She talked about the strong sensations, followed by incredible joy that marked the births of my brother, sister, and me.  Thankfully, the popular belief that birth is scary, painful, and unbearable, never penetrated my psyche too deeply. Rather than fear it,  I looked forward to Tai's birth as an opportunity to see what my body was capable of. I wanted to feel--to be present and aware of each rush as my baby came into the world. While the contractions  were not "enjoyable," I knew that each one was doing a job. Unlike the pain of a cut or a broken bone, labor pains are productive-- each contraction means that your body is opening and preparing to bring the baby down. As long as I focused on that fact, I found the pain of my contractions didn't overwhelm me.

 Like many people I know, I've spent a good portion of my life trying to escape pain-- both physical and emotional. I became very good at tuning out, running away, and hiding from any sensation that made me the least bit uncomfortable. Finally, through the (sporadic) yoga and meditation practices I started in my late teens, I began to grasp the concept that pain can open doors for us-- that some of our most powerful growth can happen when we stay present in our discomfort. Tai's birth was the deepest, most beautiful demonstration of this for me. At the peak of my labor, as the contractions crashed, one on top of another, I went deeper into myself than I'd ever been. A primal force controlled my body, and I knew that trying to run or hide away in my thoughts was no use. There was no way to "escape"-- fighting the contractions only made them worse and I realized my only way out was to surrender to my body and the intense sensations washing over me.

I was able to surrender to the experience because I wasn't afraid-- I had been given the incredible gift of trust in body-- passed down to me from my own mother, and from wise women in the books I read and researched. I went into labor trusting that my body was created to birth babies and that it knew what to do.
And,  I brought my son into the world, free of any drugs or pain medication, in the beauty of our bedroom.

My hope is that more women can reclaim trust in their bodies that we begin to question the medical model of birth that so often convinces to be afraid of this beautiful, natural process.

*Note-- my intention in this piece is not to judge or criticize ANY mother for her birth choices. I realize that we all walk different paths and that how/where we birth is an incredibly personal decision.

A MOTHER'S HEART

 

This quote spoke to me so deeply-- reading it brought tears to my eyes.

 

"Where did I come from? Where did you find me? asks the baby of his mother. She weeps and laughs at the same time and, pressing the infant to her breast, answers, You were hidden in my heart darling, you were its desire." ~Rabindranath Tagore

 

Being a mama was my heart's greatest desire. All through my childhood I imagined what it would be like to have babies of my own. And in the years between childhood and adulthood, I felt a hole in my heart that got deeper and wider with each passing year. Sometimes I could even feel a physical emptiness on my hip as I walked-- as though my body knew the memory of carrying a baby there and felt off balance without it. When Tai was born, I felt as though my entire life had been leading up to that moment-- that everything else had simply been preparation for that day.

 

Now, as I wait on the doorsteps of a new little soul, my heart once again swells with desire. I know no greater joy than holding my child close-- realizing what a gift it is to walk beside them on this journey. At the end of the day, after all of the tantrums and tears, messes and mishaps, being a mother is the most beautiful job I could ask for.

 

23 WEEKS

Celebrating 23 weeks of pregnancy today. The constant sickness and desperation of the first few months are finally beginning to fade in my memory and the sweet little kicks and wiggles from my belly keep me smiling throughout the day.

I've been working on a lot of pregnancy and birth paintings lately. It's all I can seem to focus on and it feels good to be able to channel that creative energy out onto paper. Pregnancy fills every corner of my body and mind. This period of growth, transition, and anticipation is one of my favorite times. In carrying a child within me, I can't help but feel connected to the world in a greater way-- connected to every mother, past, present, and future.

I feel so connected to the soul within me and yet, full of curiosity about who my child will be. It's a beautiful paradox-- sharing a body, knowing, on a deep level, the life created from my cells, and at the same time, not knowing at all what this little person will be like.

~in love and light~

JANUARY:: BLISS

 

 

 

 

I write this from our adobe house in the chilly mountains of NM, although in my mind, I'm still soaking up the 90 degree sunshine on the beach in Los Organos, Peru. We just got back after three weeks in Peru and my mind and body are still struggling to adjust to the cold temperatures and the accelerated rhythm of my life here.

Our trip to Peru was much shorter this year than usual-- three quick weeks of reconnecting with friends and family, stuffing ourselves with fresh sea food, soaking up the bright sun and turquoise sea, and releasing months worth of stress.

Fall was a rough season for me this year. My body was of put through hell during early pregnancy and my spirit sank to a dark, jagged place. The holidays and the second trimester brought some relief and joy, but I still felt a tight ball of fear and stress wound tightly in my stomach. It wasn't until I stepped onto the sandy beach our first night in Peru that I began to feel myself relax and release.

Over the three weeks of our trip, I  let go of all of the stress and worry that had dug so tightly into my being.  My to-do list disappeared. I didn't feel rushed or overwhelmed--two sensations that had become constant companions back in the states. I lay on the beach and watched my growing boy splash in the waves with his cousin. I sat on the porch swing late into the evenings and chatted with friends and family about daily life and deep matters of the heart. We watched sea turtles swimming in the tide and collected treasures on our daily walks along the beach. True bliss.

The more relaxed I became, the deeper into myself I was able to go. My creativity had been in hiding for months-- buried by the sickness and overwhelming fatigue of the first trimester and the craziness of the holidays. But slowly, images began to swim in my head again and I watched as they revealed themselves to me on paper. As I sketched and meditated and soaked up the sun, a feeling of joy and optimism began to flow through me. Grounded in the present, I was finally able to tap into my deeper self again and to set intentions for the coming year.

Back in New Mexico, I'm finding myself struggling to maintain the peace and bliss I found on our trip. My to-do list is already much longer than I care to think about and my spirit is mourning the sense of connectedness I felt in Peru. I miss the meals shared with friends around an outdoor table, the evenings spent watching my little one playing with neighborhood kids, and the sense of comfort I got from living in a house packed with family. I'm homesick for our other home.

I take deep breaths and hold in my mind images of crashing waves, palm trees, and sunshine, and focus on bringing to life the intentions I've set for this coming year. We'll be back in Peru in 10 short months-- with a new baby and plans for building our dream home. Until then, I'll be sinking myself into work here-- into growing our business and creating the life of my dreams.  Here's to bliss and peace-- found in each precious moment.

~in love and light~

MAMA MOON

I am six weeks pregnant.

I am six weeks pregnant and I don't know, can't know, whether I will ever get to meet this baby. I have lost three pregnancies. Each miscarriage seems to numb a part of my heart and with each one, it feels like the odds get stacked higher against me. I'm too cautious now to jump for joy at the sight of the plus sign on my pregnancy test. Now, I just stare at plastic stick in my hand and breathe.

I try to distract myself at first,  to ignore the fact that I'm pregnant. If I don't think about the baby, it won't hurt to lose it, I reason. But that never works. The thoughts find their way in. I calculate due dates, imagine another beautiful home birth, make mental lists of names that I like. My mind plays tug of war between denial and hope. I feel myself spinning off center-- falling out into a world of "what ifs," and losing touch with what is. I am six weeks pregnant. 

I stop and breathe. I take deep, full breaths to push out the fear. 

I throw myself into my art and into mothering the beautiful child I have here on Earth.  

I try to stay in the present. 

And at night, when I've made it through another day of fighting back anxiety and doubt, I look out the window at the moon. Each night, when she appears just a little bit larger in the sky, I know that I've made it one more day on this uncertain path. Whatever happens, I'm one day closer.

I watch the moon grow, little by little, until she is full and round and glowing. I whisper to her, asking her to hold the tiny life inside me in her light. 

Maybe this time my belly will grow big and round like the full moon. 

These two prints can be found at Studio Spirit & Sol. 

MONDAY MEDITATION// WARRIORSHIP

"Warriorship is so tender, without skin, without tissue, naked and raw. It is soft and gentle.

You have renounced putting on a new suit of armor. You have renounced growing a thick, hard skin.

You are willing to expose naked flesh, bone, and marrow to the world.”

~ Chögyam Trungpa

"Sitara"- coming soon to our new Etsy shop.

This quote resonated so profoundly with me. For a few months now, I've felt myself sinking deeper into spirituality-- engaging with my soul and developing my "warriorhood." For me, this has meant questioning the thought patterns and stories that I've held tight to for the past few years. It has meant staying aware and open, and allowing myself to be vulnerable and raw. I've long confused vulnerability with weakness, but I'm coming to see it as one of the truest, strongest places we can operate from. I'm working at stripping off my armor, baring my heart-- scars and all-- and facing the world as a warrior of peace. 

Will you join me?

MONDAY MEDITATION// LIGHT WARRIOR

WANDERLUST PART II

The wanderlust I wrote about a few weeks back hasn't left me. If anything, it's getting stronger. I love summer here in New Mexico, but as it fades, I find myself instinctively looking to follow the sun. For years, Alexis and I bounced from one warm place to the next. When the cold or rainy season came near, we'd simply hop on a bus and head closer to the equator.

We chased the sun for five wonderful years. During that time, I didn't know seasons. We'd be high in the Andes one day and hundreds of miles away on a beach 24 hours later. I came home to the snow for a couple of weeks at Christmas-- just long enough to enjoy the holidays, not so long that I'd fall into my winter funk.

But now that we find ourselves more settled, my spirit is stirring for travel. Warmth. Colorful markets in cities far from here. It's a desire that borders on obsession-- I find myself locked to my laptop screen, willing myself into Pinterest photos of markets in India and Morocco, beaches in Colombia and Brazil.

 With the intensity of caring for an infant/baby, I escaped these feelings for the first two years of our "settling". But now that Tai is three and more independent, I feel the need to travel again. As we slowly build ourselves the American dream, my soul rebels against it. I fight between wanting security for my little family, and wanting freedom for my curious spirit. It's not a new fight for me...but it feels stronger now.

Back to Pinterest for me...I have some cyber travel to do. :)

LETTER TO MY 18 YEAR OLD SELF

Yesterday, while putting some of Tai's too-small clothes into storage, I found an old sketchbook from my first year of college.

 I had just returned from Peru after a year of travel and found myself in a tiny liberal arts college in the middle of Indiana. It was culture shock in the strangest of ways. I felt out of place in my own country (albeit an unfamiliar part of the country...) and desperately missed the freedom and adventure of travel, not to mention my love. Alexis and I were navigating a long distance relationship-- a first for both of us-- and I  was dealing with some big, heavy decisions (whether to stay in school or return to Peru.) This sketchbook was my outlet for all kinds of wild emotions and my closest companion during a lonely time.

Looking back through it was such a wild ride down memory lane. I felt transported, back to that place and the person I was during that time. Words poured out of me-- a love letter, of sorts, to my younger self:

Hi sweet one,
I remember you so well. Curled up in your tiny dorm bed, finding yourself like a bird back in a cage, your heart breaking, your mind reeling with huge decisions and experiences you couldn't begin to share.

I want to wrap my arms around you-- as strong and unflinching as you projected yourself to be,  you were aching inside. You bounced between intellectual theories of race and privilege and the raw experiences seeing true poverty in Peru. You spent hours locked in the library, devouring books on Latin America-- finding comfort in the familiarity, the words soothing the homesickness and heartsickness you felt. Art poured of you-- keeping your hands busy and your mind free to wander back to your travels-- the open road.

You were so brave to follow your heart. School left behind-- a one way ticket to Peru-- releasing the guilt you felt at disappointing your parents to run off, halfway across the world, to be with a boy. But you made it. Through the doubt and the guilt and the fear. You lived incredible lives-- ones that books are written about, ones that seem to happen only in dreams. You fought for love-- against distance and bureaucracy and a painstaking visa process. And you won. You got married, had a baby, and eventually earned a degree. It all worked out just fine, because you were brave enough to leap....

I carry you with me still. Life is funny that way-- our younger selves are always with us, hidden beneath  layers of wisdom and experience and growth. But I wonder now, if I'd still have your bravery-- if I'd still be able to risk all for love. I like to believe so. I'd like to believe that you gave that gift to me, your older self. The gift of trusting your heart and the universe, of leaving carefully laid plans by the wayside in order to follow your true path.

Thank you, beautiful soul, for your bravery and strength-- for growing into the woman I am now.

NEW MOON MEDITATION

~May this cycle bring growth and the blossoming of dreams, 

May it bring me deeper into awareness, kindness, and compassion.

As the moon circles its path, may I find a greater understanding of myself and my ability to love.~ 

Each new moon brings me into a place of deep reflection-- I notice myself slowing down creatively and focusing more on my inner world.

I enjoy the ritual of setting intentions for the cycle ahead-- focusing my thoughts and energies on the goals and dreams I'm manifesting.

 I spend a little time rearranging my "soul corner" to reflect the intentions I'm setting and to send some words of gratitude out into the universe.

~in love and light~

MONSTERS

The monsters of doubt crawled out from under my bed last night and parked themselves at my desk. "You need to practice more,"one said. "You should stick to what you know," said another. "Why are you throwing your money away on this project?" said a particularly bold one.

I sat with these doubt monsters all evening. Their voices got louder and more numerous. I began to second guess myself. I began believing them. I started to sink back into the hole of fear and insecurity- the place where I'm convinced that I'll fail and that I should stick to what is safe and familiar.

But this time, I stopped! This amazing thing happened: I realized that I have created weapons to use against these ugly, negative thoughts. The words and the art that I put down on paper over the past month are the messages that make the monsters crawl back into their holes. They're reminders that I don't have to listen to the fears and doubts, that I am bigger and greater than they are, and that I can succeed in making my dreams come true.

So I took a deep breath. Scrolled back through images of my paintings on my laptop, and then charged on forward with my plan to open a new Etsy shop. Take that monsters!

NEW MOON// NEW ME

"La madre es el primer paso en el futuro del hijo. Madre y luz son, en un comienzo, una sola entidad. La vida del hijo, la vida del hombre, es solo la continuacion de la luz." (Pablo Neruda)

Today marks a new moon, and I greet it with a new heart.


I spent a few quiet moments this morning rearranging my little soul corner, creating new intentions for the month ahead.

After what feels like a looong time, I'm finally excited and confident about adding to our family again. It feels like a magical time of growth for me-- one that I'm embracing with a smiling heart.

It's been a rocky road climbing back up to this place of confidence and hope. After a short, but very rough, pregnancy that ended in loss last fall, I was left flooded with strong, conflicting emotions. I felt grief, and relief, and guilt for feeling relief....but most of all I was left with fear and doubt. I doubted that my body had what it took to sustain a healthy pregnancy, and feared that as a mother didn't have enough to give to another little life. I feared that the stress of another baby would crumble my marriage and doubted my ability to maintain both the role of wife and mother of two. I felt crushed by these feelings--being a mama has always been my truest calling, and I was suddenly questioning whether I could live up to my own dreams.

But as winter turned to spring, and spring to summer, the feelings of pain and fear began to float away, one by one. I started taking better care of myself, physically and emotionally, and unpacking the baggage that had piled on over the years.

A few weeks ago, I began to feel a tapping on my heart. A little soul, somewhere far away, was asking if I was ready to let her/him in. And finally, I was able to smile and say yes! I'm ready to start this wild adventure  all over again and ready for the new lessons it will undoubtedly teach me this time around.

(This is a page from the beautiful photography book "Revelaciones" by Daniela and Olivier Follmi. Quote is Pablo Neruda meaning "The mother is the first step in the future of the child. Mother and light are, in the beginning, a singular entity. The life of the child, the life of man, is just a continuation of this light." And those precious little hummingbird nests were a gift from my love-- he found three of them while we were trying to get pregnant with Tai. He'd never found one before, nor has he found one again. Definitely a gift from the Pachamama.) 

Secret!!

I have a little secret I'm so excited about!! Big changes are coming to our little Etsy shop, and I've been working my tail off on this new project. I want to shout from the rooftops and tell everyone I know, but I've learned that with these things, it's better to wait a bit. For me, it's better to hold the newness close, to savor it all alone for a bit, letting it fill every corner of myself, before releasing it into the world.

With Tai, I kept my pregnancy a secret for the first twelve months. A lot played into this decision (I was wary of early losses, after having had one before, and also super nervous about how to share the news), but looking back, I loved having the secret all to myself for a bit (my hubby knew too, of course.) I was able to unwrap all my feelings, to deeply absorb what it meant to me to be a mom, and to release some fears that I knew would not serve me in my journey.

And so that's what I'm doing with this new little creative baby of mine. I'm holding her tight, putting all my love and energy into the process, and working through some fears that are still holding me back.

I can't wait to share with you!! --when the time is right ;)

Earth and Stars

Monday Meditation: Serenity

Horizon

I find myself in a time of transition-- lots of loose ends, lots up in the air, uncertain of what lays ahead on the horizon. But instead of tying myself in mental knots, which is my usual reaction to transition, I'm opening my arms to potential change and the adventures that lay ahead. Look out horizon, this time, I'm ready for you!

Shine on...