Happy October!

I hope that the wind of this new season's arrival has been gentle. I’ve taken a couple of weeks' hiatus from writing, as Jason and I solidify the sale of our house. We arrived at the decision to sell only seven weeks ago. What a whirlwind it has all been! (Though we did hold out an extra three years after knowing that the time was coming.) Time has its own beat for each of us, and I have my own dance within the beats it plays for me.

As Jason and I cleaned out the garage this past weekend, memories and emotions flooded my system. My grandmother's treasured holiday ornaments and milk glass, Jason’s first grade class picture and well loved action figures, my wedding dress, all squeezed in amongst old cardboard boxes and the lawn mower. A garage is such a fascinating place. A place where we keep our cars and trash and then some of our most personal memories and keepsakes. Oh how it can become cluttered and then cleaned out just to be cluttered again. Every time I clean the garage out, I swear that I will keep it organized, and I never manage to do it.

This latest clean out has been different. We dug all the way back and opened the boxes that have been carried from one home to another, carried unopened, stacked and kept but forgotten. We needed, I needed, to be with and sort through all of it so that the mystery could lift and I could actually decide if this years long period of hanging on had come to completion.

Happy September!

It's hard to believe that we will be welcoming the fall winds and witnessing the grand changing of color in the trees in a matter of weeks. It still feels very summer here in Mid-Coast Maine. My mom was visiting for a few days and we were sweating it out cleaning up the gardens and strategizing on trimming trees and bushes. All of this activity and the anticipation of more changes that fall will bring leaves me in a space of grieving endings. With that grieving there's deep sadness of what was, and great excitement about the possibility of new adventures. The emotional waves I'm experiencing prompted my spirit guides to remind me that it's in endings that beginnings are birthed. They have asked me how I can be with change (both the growth and death spectrums) with integrity and with grace. I'm seeing that I need to re-learn, to unlearn and then ask to be consciously taught in the here and now.

I’ve been thinking of my childhood experiences at and in the ocean as August closes its 2021 chapter. I remember spending much time in the water when my family would go to the beach. Oh how I loved and feared the ocean. I always thought I was stronger than I was and was constantly reminded that the ocean has its own rhythm and immense power. It’s an entity, a world unto itself. I found that the world of the ocean was filled with moments, split seconds of time when I was asked to sense my relationship to and position in the water, and to sense the same for the tide, for those around me, and for the oncoming waves.

I don't know much about fishing. I've only gone a few times in my life, but I do have a deep affinity for fish flies and can spend hours in the fishing section at L.L. Bean - if that adds a bit to my meager experience. I mention this because the energy of the last nine months for me personally have felt like untangling a series of complex knots in fishing wire while minding the hook and mechanics of the rod as part of the uncoiling. And when the work is accomplished, I have all the parts of the whole mechanism in their natural state to launch out a smooth cast. The experience of untangling these personal knots has taught me the need to surrender to divine timing. It has asked me to trust that All is unfolding in its natural order.

The summer season arrived with a bang at our house. Backs thrown out, sleepless nights, old wounds, trauma and patterns were given life again. To say it was confronting would be an understatement. In the heat of it all, I knew that a very old story was revisiting to make a statement. A statement yelled through a bull horn. A statement to show what fits and no longer fits anymore.

I've been sitting with words from a new space of curiosity recently. I even noticed myself stop mid-sentence the other day as I realized that I didn't want to breathe life into the words that were about to pour out of my mouth. It was quite an interesting moment in time. It felt as though I were peering down on a word search puzzle and weeding through a collection of letters to create the right word, the right expression.

Nature in my small part of the world feels quite abundant despite all that stands against it. I realize I can now see this abundance because I am choosing to see it.

During my daily walks this week, I just listened and noticed. On Monday morning the River spoke to me. It said, "I am the the sea and the sea is me." This statement reminded me of the Jennifer Williamson affirmation I shared in last week's newsletter, "I am on purpose." This affirmation challenges many parts of me and lights up many parts of me. It invites me to take on and step into a new sense of responsibility for my life, for living.

For me, hollowing myself is daily life-long work. I have seen that if I am not actively working on becoming hollow, then more and more energy gets trapped, clogged and lodged in me. I can become more vulnerable to unhealthy attachments, falling into old patterns and living in and out of distorted thoughts of myself and others.

I was shown that when strong intensity permeates the air, I can choose to tune into where the energy is landing in my body. I can determine if I am allowing that energy to push me to break free or to deny or repress something. Or I can choose to claim that calm center of the energy, that starting point where all the races branch out. I can sit with the energy at the center, the start, and I can learn.

Crow flew by my eye line on my Sunday walk and said, “Be careful of the stories you tell.” In true Crow fashion he zipped in, spoke the truth, dropped the mic and left. As I sat with his energy and what he shared, I saw it layer on top of the message from Eagle last week perfectly. Eagle said, “You become where you sit.” I know it's very true that I become the stories I tell myself, the stories I allow myself to sit in and walk with. And the stories that others have told me over the years not only influenced my energy body but some became lodged in my physical body.