.midcoast maine + showing up.

I've found myself deep in process + questions the past 3 months of being back East. I've found myself trying to answer questions instead of embracing open curiosity. I think the familiarity here - or elements of familiarity make me quick to jump to expectations or assumptions and feel frustrated when things don't align. I'm at another place of transition moving out of my temporary dwelling and heading West for a few weeks before I come back East, again - to a new place. I want to make more time to write down my observations + questions + curiosities here as I finish 2017 and dive into 2018 with new intentions.

Thanks for being here.
-----------------------------

I've been exploring Maine a lot in the past few months. It's a fascinating place that feels rugged, unforgiving and unknown to me. This past weekend I spent some time in the Midcoast region while we received our first snow fall. I'm so curiosity about these little seasonal art communities - how they change so much with the season and how the community needs one another because of these drastic changes. I really loved the town of Camden.

.what now.

I am forever curious. It's something that I pride myself on - it's something that allows me to take brave jumps into the unknown over and over again. It's also something that keeps me painfully aware of this internal compass, that despite my best attempts to ignore or drag my heels into the ground it wakes me up in the middle of the night and doesn't let me go back to sleep. I can list off every single one of these instances - they are branded in my memory maybe as reminders that against my initial reactions things will work out - this is just the process. 

I remember 5 years ago I was living in a restored barn in a small town north of Seattle working as a Health Educator at a Community Health Clinic. I had just returned a little over a year from serving in the Peace Corps for two years in Ecuador and I started to feel that internal compass. My days were running into each other - my energy was sagging - the question, what now. I had been contemplating whether or not to go to midwifery school and had also applied to water sanitation program with Peace Corps Response in El Salvador. The midwifery school invited me to come do a 24hr shift at the birth center and 2 two weeks later Peace Corps called me to say that the water sanitation program didn't exist anymore but they thought I would be the perfect candidate for a new program in Malawi. Wait, what? Where? I didn't even know where Malawi was, I am a traveler but really I was a Latin American traveler. All my experiences of to that point had been to Latin America. That is where I travel - that is where I want to travel - I speak Spanish. The birth center was in El Paso, Texas just a mile from the border. I know Mexico. I love Mexico. I've been working with moms and babies forever - it's what I do. It seemed like the perfect fit - a longtime goal/dream. I went to the birth center for a 24hr shift. It was small and chaotic - it was Mexico. I loved it. A returned home and within a few weeks a receieve a letter of acceptance to the midwifery program and an offer from Peace Corps to go to Malawi for 9 months. I didn't know what to do. The midwifery program seems like the perfect fit but there was something about Malawi that I just couldn't say no to. I ran all the possible what ifs over and over in my head, made pro and con lists for both and then called my mom. She asked why I wouldn't go to Malawi and I said, "Because I'm scared" and she said, "then you already have your answer." That curiosity - that internal compass sometimes starts out looking/feeling like fear and when I walk thru it I find the most beautiful things. I went Malawi. It broke my heart and healed it. It made me feel rooted and alive in ways I'd never experienced before. 

Curiousity is knocking at my door, again. I've been living in Boston for the past almost 3 years. That is the longest time I have spent in any one place since I graduated college (10 years ago!). It has been such an adventure living on the east coast - it's a different world from the west coast in so many ways. I took risks - I learned a new speed of life - I became bolder from the city - I explored New England - I met new people. It was feeling comfortable but I started to feel that internal compass. I started to open doors to see what would come and out of nowhere an opporunity started to unfold from small town, Sun Valley, Idaho in the Sawtooth Mountains. A chance to work in reproductive rights. A chance to feel like I’m investing in what I believe during a time that demands us all to speak up. So I’m moving west again. I’m sad to leave that city I have grown to know and the little community I was apart of - it seems like with all things being questioned and challenged what we really need is community and love and support but I made the decision to live a life that demands risks - that expands and new places seem to be the way that my life unfolds. It seems we don’t always process our learning until we leave and I feel I am just starting to see all the love and support that Boston gave me, a tough love but a love nonetheless. A firmness that allowed me to grow taller. A pace that helped to begin to leave perfection aside for the opportunity to complete the task. I’m grateful for all the teachers I met in Boston. My heart feels sad in a lot of ways but also excited to see what unfolds in a small town in the mountains. 

.camping in maine.

I love Maine in summertime. I've only been a handful of times but I fell in the love the first time I went last year. There's this energy of Maine that is so intriguing to me - it's secretive and undiscovered nature. The towns are so quiet, the houses are so old, the summer season is so short, the roads are two-lanes and so windy. You can't go anywhere fast - even with no traffic. No one minds, they just drive slower or boat there or walk there or bike there or canoe there - everyone is exploring. I wonder if it's because the summer is so short or just the type of people that call Maine home but everyone is out - connecting to the land of Maine. 

I went to a new place this year - a small town named Richmond, just north of Portland. We took a right off the highway and drove for a longtime on a two-laned road I was wondering if this is the right way then a few houses with big lots started to appear and then one gas station with a fried chicken fast food and Dunkin Donuts in it, this must be it. It's funny in these rural town how the gas stations can be all-in-one town centers. We drove a little more and there it appeared, the adorable downtown of Richmond. It's just about two blocks long right on the railroad tracks with a bakery, post office, library, ice cream shop and restaurant. Most of the buildings are from the 1800s, I always wonder how these little towns keep running? What's it like in winter? Life is slow here and I don't image much changes. Maine seems to give me so many questions. The end of downtown stops right at the banks of the Kennebec river and the boat loading dock. Our camp site was on Swan Island so we had to canoe over since the ferry (small boat) stopped running at 3pm that day. It was dusk and the mosquitos were coming out in hordes. We eased into the murky river and paddled against the current. We paddled across the river to hang close to the edge of Swan island right along the edge of the swaying freshwater grass. 

The Kennebec river is fascinating with the current getting pulled and pushed by the ocean's tide, the water levels can change by several feet during the day and makes for an interesting plant life, it looks almost marsh-like in places with the entire Swan Island bordered by freshwater grasses. 

It was dark at this point and I was wondered as we were curving around the east side of the island if we would be able to see the boat dock for the campsite. With the darkness and current it took us about 45 mins but we found it. The night sky was so dark and no one was in the camping area except for us, we were greeted by that deep deep silence of Maine. There is such healing/peaceful powers in that deep deep silence. We slept under the bright blanket of stars and woke up to the hot summer sun. I haven't felt the rhythms of the life without buildings - highways - lights for so long - it felt so good. 

Swan Island was inhabited several times between the 1700s-late 1800s until the land was ultimately bought by the State of Maine in the early 1900s so it has many houses on it still from the different owners and settlements. We read the histories of the people that once lived on Swan Island - the first family of settlers that  were captured by the Abenaki Indians and sold as slaves across the border in Canada. The next wave logging the land leading wide open meadows on the island. Another wave of settlers serving off of selling ice from the Kennebec River until refrigeration became a household things. With not many resources people didn't stay long on the Island but their houses are still there today as a reminder of their stories.

We hiked and canoed and even swan in the murky dark waters of the Kennebec - SUMMER. I hope you are exploring your lands and reading histories and seeking dark night skies and feeling that deep deep silence. 

.getting lost.

Yesterday I was working in a neighborhood that I’ve never been to before and because of this I had to take a new way home. I looked at the map before I left I assumed I would be able to figure it out, this is typical of me to assume I can figure it out. I can figure it out – it just almost always takes more time than I expect. I am an Aries so I need to figure things out for myself even if it is frustrating or takes more time. SO typical me moment, I started riding home and after about a mile of riding I began to feel like I wasn’t going the right direction anymore…thankfully some kind man stopped riding to redirect me. Since I rode past the original path I was on a different bike path that ended up being a conservation byway. It was beautiful – lush and green – running parallel with the Charles river. The view looked like I had been transported to the swampy south with the low hanging trees and the brimming river. Beautiful.

This has been a stressful week – there are transitions happening in my life with tight deadlines – I needed to “get lost” – I needed to just go for a bike ride and enjoy the view. If we (I) stop ourselves (myself) from reacting when plans/expectations stray the anticipated course we (I) can find some beautiful lessons/moments/ events RIGHT when we (I) need them.

Always trust that the Universe is taking care of you and giving you what you need.

So grateful.

.portland maine.

“Be vulnerable.

Let yourself be deeply seen,
love with your whole heart,
practice gratitude and joy…be able to say ‘I am thankful to feel this vulnerable because it means I am alive’,
and believe ‘I am enough.’
You are worthy of love & belonging.”

- Brene Brown, The Power of Vulnerability (via tblaberge)

I journeyed up to Portland, Maine to spend some time with a  dear friend this weekend. I am a wander and a nomad in my heart of hearts but this past year I have felt things changing and moving in my heart and desires – a desire to be somewhere – to stay – to root myself to a place BUT I still need that energy I gather from being in new surroundings. This weekend was a good reminder to make the time/plans to take day trips and weekend bus adventures.

I found Portland to be a quaint little fishing town with dreamy views of boats on the harbor, cobblestone streets and pungent fish markets BUT I could also feel the new energy come to the city in local businesses, art scene and amazing food. I had my first brown butter lobster roll at Eventide, whoa. 

It was only 36 hours but the new city and authentic conversations with my girl totally fed my soul and gave me so many things to think about and process. It was hard to come back to work this morning with all this energy to process and create. I hope you are making space for those things that fill you up and re-energize your spirit. 

Much Love.