.the hero's journey.

On this day 6 years ago I got a plane bright and early in the morning vibrating with excitement and paralyzed with fear - I was headed to Malawi for 9 months with the Peace Corps as a Response Volunteer. 

Today I was walking on my favorite trail, it winds thru the trees and curves around tiny lakes - it's my favorite place to think. I was listening to this podcast and this with Oprah and Liz Gilbert, discussing the Hero's Journey and how people who have been conditioned as women have been told this isn't their journey, the hero's journey and from this understanding we (women) don't always know or take agency of our lives or the direction of our journey. We wait for it to come to us. So many women have followed their role models - their Mothers, Aunts, Grandmas who grew up and got married and had babies and built a home. That is the journey. We follow this journey because the women we love lived this journey and they are strong and wise and beautiful - but this isn't everyone's journey. 

I thought about my journey. I didn't follow my Nana's journey - I didn't follow my Mom's journey. I find myself on the other side of Oprah and Liz's experience. I was given the love + support to live a journey that is very far from my Nana + Mom. They encouraged me to go + learn + seek + find in ways they never had the freedom too. I'm so grateful for that. But I wonder if I am, even on the other side facing the same dilemma - while living a free journey I have felt lost without role models to show me how to live this journey - how to embrace and receive the freedom.

Whether we are following the women of our family or traveling new pathways we have to check into our own authenticity. What do we really want our journey to be? AND are you able to see ourselves as deserving enough to have it? 

The  podcast goes on to tell a story of one of  Liz's close friends who on her 40th birthday made a ceremony for herself to release the bride, to release the expectation she held that in order to be the person she wanted and have the life she wanted she had to get married, so she released it. It's a powerful story. I started thinking about what I would release. 

What have I been carrying around with me? 

Immediately the words dropped into my head - I have to release the pressure + idea of a perfect life. I don't know how to navigate this journey of freedom + exploration. I wasn't given role models. It's been the most beautiful journey so far and I am so grateful for every moment of it - high/low good/bad fulfilling/draining lonely/connected quiet/loud BUT it is what is needs to be. It doesn't have to be perfect (right) - there is no perfect (right) town - there is no perfect (right) job - there is no perfect (right) choice. Allow myself to take agency of a freedom that the women in my life haven't had. Stay curious to new ways instead of holding onto fear without a clear role model of the unknown. Don't listen to fear - perfect is just fear dressed up in a nice outfit as Liz says! 

I'm so curious about how + why people make choices! I'm thinking now it's been a way for me to try to gather data on how humans navigate this journey whether be it with role models that didn't live the journeys they feel called to or living a journey that has no role model. I want to hear + collect these stories. The stories of the Hero's Journey.

I wonder if you've thought about your journey? 
I wonder what you would release? 

.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. 

.westward, again.

I landed on the west coast, again yesterday. The past few months have seemed like a blur of plane rides and beds and places and 5 outfits (ha!) and I have only just started to find a rhythm (or the beginning of a surrender) to all this transition. I'm back in my home state of Washington for a few weeks while I share space with my sister who is awaiting the arrival for her first baby. 

The past month has felt frustrating. I felt like I was waiting on people to tell me what to do or where to go or how to spend my time and then I realized I was frustrated because I wasn't making any decisions for myself. I was projecting that frustration of not choosing myself upon others. Realizing this perspective totally changed things for me about 2 weeks ago. I started to actively choose myself by making small tiny decisions. The small tiny decisions started to open up new and old joys in my life, my journey. I started running into and reconnecting with old friends and found that beautiful excitement in the studio that I haven't had for such long time. I met with a friend I hadn't seen in months for coffee and our creativity talk inspired me to keep showing up for jewelry to find my discipline to my craft again. To invest time in it no matter what the inspiration or motivation (or lack of!). A few days later I found a new opportunity for myself in December! Yesterday I left Boston at 6am feeling groggy and a little unsettled at all the things I could've done before I left for Washington but as I sat in the window seat of the plane and watched the magic of the changing landscapes pass me by I couldn't help but feel so grateful to have this moment - this view - this freedom. 

I read this poem (one of my favorite poems) on the On Being blog this morning and was grateful for this gift of this reminder - thankful for all the small gifts that are right in front of me all the time.

"The Journey”
by Mary Oliver

One day you finally knew
what you had to do, and began,
though the voices around you
kept shouting
their bad advice —
though the whole house
began to tremble
and you felt the old tug
at your ankles.
“Mend my life!”
each voice cried.
But you didn't stop.
You knew what you had to do,
though the wind pried
with its stiff fingers
at the very foundations —
though their melancholy
was terrible.
It was already late
enough, and a wild night,
and the road full of fallen
branches and stones.
But little by little,
as you left their voices behind,
the stars began to burn
through the sheets of clouds,
and there was a new voice,
which you slowly
recognized as your own,
that kept you company
as you strode deeper and deeper
into the world,
determined to do
the only thing you could do —
determined to save
the only life you could save.

.the colors of the prairie.

I'm back on the east coast for a few weeks before I head west again. My time in Chicago flew by - lost in the studio - in stillness. It wasn't the trip I thought it would be it allowed the slowness - space - silence that I needed for opening up for what will come next. One of my last days in Chicago I took a studio break and drove north to a prairie grove.

Lately, I have really wanted a house - a place of my own - a sanctuary. I want to stay in a place and learn all it's details and secrets. Despite my want it just isn't the time. I'm living out of my backpack and will be for a little while. I walked alone through the prairie grove in the buzzing chorus of crickets and the rustling grasses and realized what a honor it is to be there and see the colors of fall in the prairie. To have seen so many seasons in so many places. It's time to stop waiting or dreaming or yearning for something that isn't here. It's time to find gratitude in the stillness and truth of what I have right now. To accept it's enough and it's what I need.

Oh the beautiful colors of the prairie!!!

.empty your mind.

It feels like such a long time since I've left/given anything to this space. 

I'm still here. 

I've been moving/traveling/exploring and living out of a backpack for over a month. I had to move out of my apartment and then couched hopped until I took a trip home to Washington state. It had been a year since I had gone "home" and it was just as beautiful as I remember. It felt so good to know the land of Washington, to not look up something on google maps. I spent the majority of the time at the lake, a beautiful lake where I spent every summer growing up. It felt so nourishing to swim,  sunbath, read and talk endless while you float in the crisp water. 

I went back to the East Coast for a week and now I'm in the Midwest - trying to "figure out" what's next - trying to be present here in someone else's home with only a few belongings of my own. I was telling my sister the other days I just don't feel grounded enough in myself to figure out what to do next...how do I make a decision from this place? Then this morning I read Mark Nepo and as also in perfect time, 

"Two scientist traveled halfway around the world to ask a Hindu sage what he thought about their theories. When they arrived, he kindly brought them into his garden and poured them tea. Though the two small cups were full, the sage kept pouring. Tea kept overflowing and the scientists politely but awkwardly said, "Your holiness. the cups can hold no more." The sage stopped pouring and said, "your minds are like cups. You know too much. Empty your minds and come back. Then we'll talk.""

 -Leroy Little Bear, 

The Book of Awakening

Mark Nepo went on to say 

"If at times you feel numb or distanced from the essence of what you know, perhaps your mind, like the sage's teacup, is too full. Perhaps, like a bowl too full of fish, your deepest thoughts have no room to move. Perhaps we all need from time to time to dump out all that doesn't stick."

And I realized maybe this journey of moving from west to east to midwest, living out of a small backpack is the process of dumping out all that doesn't stick. It's uncomfortable but something good is coming. Something good is here. I've never been where I am right now and I need open spaces to see it. I have to let go of what I've been holding onto to be able to grow in the ways that I need to - moving into the future. Maybe this is the Universe blowing through me. 

Life is SO powerful and challenging and I'm forever grateful to be a student of it's lessons.

.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. 

.let go.

I had the most beautiful dream last night, I was swimming in deep blue ocean waters. The water was calm and I was far out from shore. I would feel nervous and then reminded myself in that moment to just let go and relax - enjoy the peace - allow the salty waters to hold me up. 

I found this quote in an old notebook yesterday, "Try to do everything in the world with a mind that lets go. If you let go a little you will have a little peace. If you let go a lot you will have a lot of peace. If you let go completely, you will know complete peace and freedom. Your struggles with the world will have come to an end." Achaean Chah

I'm almost all packed up at my place. I don't usually stay any one place too long but I've been living in this house for over a year and a half! I'm moving out this weekend and I think it might feel strange to not sleep in this room - not in a way that I'll miss it but in the comfort of being able to bike home with my eyes closed, a feeling I haven't had in a long time. When transitions come I get nervous right before the movement happens - that last minute doubt - hold on to something feeling. I'm moving out and going to be nomadic again for another 6 or so weeks. I'm ready to live somewhere but also, I need to remind myself that I know how to do this - how to float and live out of a backpack - find inspiration in the lightness. To take this open door and embrace it knowing that I'm moving towards something I've never had before, a rootedness but for the next little bit I'm open and free! To make having fun a priority - to let go a lot or completely.

What is this summer bring for you?

.lately.

It's been a long time since I've put anything here. 

I've been searching inside of myself - trying to find the grounding of what I want/need. 

I've been distracting myself with the busy life of Boston - chasing opportunities. 

I've been trying to be more present in the moment - meeting new people, staying up too late dancing to Brazilian music and making things with new mediums.

I took a trip to the Smokey Mountains and feel in love the lush mountains (again), the pitch dark nights and the quiet mornings. 

I need nature - I need space - I need the calmness to process it all. 

I took a trip to the ocean and feel in love with the mysterious life of tide pools, the way the horizon loses it's depth when you look long enough and the way the crashing waves somehow give me answers. 

I need to explore - I need to be silent (sometimes) - I need to s l o w down.

I'm reading a new book about energy and healing, "Light, Emerging" and I read the words this morning, 

"What is it that I have longed for and not yet succeeded in creating in my life?"

What are you longing for? What do you desire? What are you holding back? I hope you say YES this week. I hope you slow down. I hope you find love and beauty in it all.

.E X C I T I N G plans for 2016.

This has been a big year for me.  A year of taking risks and realigning my energies to nurture my truths. This year has taught me so much about myself. Thank you. Thank you to each and everyone of you all for your support, love and encouragement this year.

I have some BIG AEO news for 2016!! I am going to Portugal for 8 weeks for an artist residency. Thanks to dear friends and open doors I will be spending January and February in a small coastal town in the Algarve region of Portugal working with local metalsmiths.

I’ve travelled so much but I’ve never dedicated a trip solely to my art. I am grateful for this opportunity - to sit in my creativity and see what emerges - reveals.

I hope you follow me on this journey! I’ll be sending out a  few emails to update you all on the process, as well as blogging here and be sure to follow my instagram for the latest sights and scenes.

Happiest N E W Year to you and yours!

Let 2016 be a year in which we follow all that feeds us soul and let go of the rest.

xx

.ripples and waves.

Sometimes change comes in small ripples and other times it comes in big huge waves. Sometimes the small tiny ripples can be more disorientating because it's so subtle I can almost not notice. Sometimes a wave can be more disorientating because it can wipe out everything that you have known. Things are changing again for me - it feels like wave is just building. It's an exciting waves - a new adventure wave - I guess they are all but sometimes when grief is intertwined in the wave it's hard to see the adventure or excitement. This time I can feel it. I'm inspired lately. But there's also the element of leaving your comfort - your "safe" four walls - the distraction that is fear can tell so many stories to make you forget the beauty of the wave. 

I had a day today just sitting in my emotions - retelling stories - more false than true - glorifying - longing for - creating dialogue for something that wasn't this - right here. I was listening to one of Elizabeth Gilbert's Big Magic podcasts and she was talking about how we get lost - busy living life something other plays - potential lives/storylines. She said to write down on a piece of paper "the action is right here" I love that. My life and reality and truth are right here and no where else. Today I had a very fire sign moment seeing things as if they only affected me in that way, that change was only happening to me, that unsettling feeling of life needing to recalibrate was a unique sensation to me. Impermanence was a "me" thing. Impermanence is life - is everything.

The wave is coming and I'm holding on tight to fear - forgetting about all the adventure and excitement that always accompany fear. To embrace the wave. To honor that everyone is experiencing impermance all the time and I have to just let it go. Let the wave wash over me - refresh me.

I bought a ticket and I'm going on a journey in January. It's just my way - it's my truth - to seek - to accept my fear - to stay curious - to travel lands - to find questions - to keep practicing releasing into impermanence. 

So grateful for these movements/motions that bring such brilliant moments of clarity.