.june on an island.

To know a place like this
Waiting patiently for me to returnJust as it does for all the others it nourishes
Giving rest, permission, beauty, tenderness, slowness
Space to roam
Unkept overgrown trails
Offering itself undistrubed
Space to explore
Often alone
Just one-on-one conversations with the nature of here
a softness emerges within me
And I’m reminded of my tenderness

How to slowly start a day,
never before 9, best if you wait till 10
Start a fire
Drink coffee and tea
There’s no rush
Walk or ride a bike
Find the benediction monestary with the unlisted address
Sit in the chapel
Or attend vespers to hear the memorized psalms in Latin
I wonder how many times they’ve prayed these words in their life
Awkwardly trying to follow when to bow and sit and stand
Come back to start another fire
The day is ending but the light will go on
In June the days seem to stretch to very edge and beyond almost crossing the days with nights
With the blue light of dusk illuminating the lapping waves and nearby islands until well after 9 and the dawn quickly arriving some time just after 4:30
It won’t last long, the stretched days of June
Maybe I should
Just stay up
Go for another paddle on the calm water
The ferries are docked and the fishing boats are home
to glide on the open waters in the golden light but
my eyelids are heavy and the fire is out
One more island day

The world is on fire
I hope, even amongst the destruction + dehumanization, that you can find moments of peace and joy to nourish yourself
For the collective work, we are all being called to do to rebuild and reimagined who we are and who we will become

----------------

and such fitting words from Mary Oliver:

On Traveling to Beautiful Places

Every day I’m still looking for God
and I’m still finding him everywhere,
in the dust, in the flowerbeds.
Certainly in the oceans,
In the islands that lay in the distance
Continents of ice, countries of sand
Each with its own set of creatures
And God, by whatever name.
How perfect to be aboard a ship with
Maybe a hundred years still in my pocket.
But it’s late, for all of us,
And in truth the only ship there is
Is the ship we are all on
Burning the world as we go.

.open your life, open your hand.

It's August, some how. The summer seems to be evaporating faster than last. I've spent the last two days at Lake Chelan, a place I visited every summer growing up. A place of endless days of sun and swims and no schedule.

It's been a wild and full few weeks with a busy schedule, teaching a slow stitch class, work, unexpected news, slow days, fast days, river dips, community meals, evening walks, good conversations, more unexpected news, art shows, lake swims, and an expanding heart.I saw this poem a few days ago and it felt so true.
---------------------------
Let July be July
by Morgan Harper Nichols

Let July be July.
Let August be August.
And let yourself

just be
even in
the uncertainty.
You don’t have to fix
everything.
You don’t have solve
everything.
And you can still
find peace
and grow
in the wild
of changing things.
-------------------------------

but maybe the most summer of all summer poems is this one, a Mary Oliver classic.

-------------------------------
I don’t want to live a small life.
Open your eyes, open your hands.
I have just come from the berry fields, the sun

kissing me with its golden mouth all the way
(open your hands) and the wind-winged clouds
following along thinking perhaps I might

feed them, but no I carry these heart-shapes
only to you. Look how many small
but so sweet and maybe the last gift

I will bring to anyone in this
world of hope and risk, so do
Look at me. Open your life, open your hands.
-------------------------------
The fire season sunsets are electric - quick explosion in the sky before the night settles in. The days are getting shorter with full darkness by 9:30 PM. The summer is fading but it's still August. Unexpected and full and alive.

I don't want to live a small life.
Open your eyes, open your hands.

.8:48 sunset.

The sun will set at 8:48 PM tonight. Maybe it's been a few days now that the sun has set before 9 PM but it just hit me today, the light is already fading. Of course it is, but seems like summer fades so fast. Just a few weeks ago I was getting off the river on an extended paddle trip with still enough light at 9:45 PM. There's still summer left, but the shift has started. It makes me reflect on how I'm holding presence in my days - absorbing the now. 

I just finished a quilt I named "The First Day of Summer" inspired by summer solstice. It's a super minimal lap quilt playing with scale and the log cabin quilt pattern. I love it. It's so simple and holds so much energy. Here are pictures of the front and back of the quilt. This has been the second project where at the beginning I had a more elaborate plan and then decided to simplify. It's enough. It's not that I want to be done with the project, but I know that the project is done. It's been beautiful to witness and learn from to let it be enough. To appreciate and release it. 

 I've had so much energy for quilting in the past few weeks. I finished this project and immediately started a new project playing with two colors and the basket weave pattern. It's other strip design. It's another iteration of the same foundation. It's been too hot in the jewelry studio the past few weeks and the focus on just fiber reminds me of the different teaching of each material. 

.escape to shaw island.

 I love the San Juan Islands. My favorite is Lopez, after taking a bike camping trip many years ago. It's the perfect blend of rural quiet island life and the quintessential small town center. I returned last year, and while it's expanded still had the same sweet energy. I've already planned a return trip for this year in August. A few weeks ago, I explored a different island, Shaw, for the first time. I've been curious for years about Shaw Island. The words used to describe it to me were desolate and nuns. A friend reminded me about Shaw Island last summer. They stay on Lopez and day-tripped to the island to ride the sleepy roads and then head back to Lopez. I didn't venture last summer but decided to make it happen this year. I booked three nights because it's a journey to get there. After a very long ferry ride that took me to Orcas Island and then back to Shaw, only one other car got off with me. I had arrived. It was magic. Driving off the ferry, one of the first things I saw was a shed of seeds and antiques. There's a monastery, library, one-room schoolhouse, historical society, and one store at the ferry dock. That's it. It was a magical and quiet few days except for an aggressive raccoon. I biked, kayaked, walked the beach, saw a seal + bald eagle, collected shells at low tide, and sewed by the fire at night. I can't wait to go back. 

The seed shed!

my campsite!

so many moments felt like I transported to Maine

The little library with an amazing collection

sewing on the beach

.herbs || lemon balm.

 The days are still hot here but getting shorter and shorter. I always find myself holding onto August, not wanting summer to be over just yet, but it feels like this year and this summer have flown by. The best part of late August is the bounty! It feels like everything in my family's gardens is overflowing! I tried a new nectarine jam recipes this weekend and have started preserving our herbs to enjoy in the fall and winter in a cup of tea. Yesterday, I cut some lemon balm and tied it up to dry.

Lemon balm is such a special herb! Not only does it grow very easily, it's a part of the mint family so if you're familiar with how mint grows then you know it's doesn't hold back, but it also has a lot of wonderful properties that we could all benefit from during this time! In April, I attended a virtual course with one of my favorite herbalist, Steph Zabel of Flowerfolk Herbs that focused on herbs for navigating uncertain times. One of the herbs she highlighted was lemon balm! Some of the wonderful properties of lemon balm she mentioned were:

1. It calms + relaxes - soothes social nerves
2. It's a gentle sedative - this makes it great for a bedtime tea
3. Its lifts spirits - traditional herbalist says that it brings joy
4. It's kid safe - it's a part of the mint family so it's gentle enough for anyone to consume
5. It has anti-viral properties

If you want to learn more about it's history, Steph wrote up an interesting blog post here or keep scrolling to find some yummy lemon balm tea recipes!

Lemon balm can be enjoyed fresh or dried as a single herb tea or as a blend. 

Lemon Balm Tea

1 heaping tbsp dried leaves or 2 heaping tbsp fresh leaves (with fresh leaves I like to muddle or chop them to get the yummy bright essential oils to release)

1 cup of boil water

Steep leaves for 10 mins or more. The longer you brew the more properties of healing herbs will be available, unlike black or green tea that have shorter brew times. 

Anxiety Releasing Tea recipe by Steph Zabel

2 tbsp oat straw

1.5 tbsp skullcap

1.5 tbsp lemon balm (double if using fresh)

2 tsp rose petals 

Steep tea for 10 mins or more and enjoy!

-------------------

Have you tried lemon balm before? What herbs are growing in your garden?

 

.8:32 pm.

It’s 8:32 pm and the sky is still bright and the land illuminated.
The time just before the sky turns into a warm orange/yellow color, the last burst of the day.
The crickets have started their mediative chants and the faintest scurries of attic mice can be heard. Yet, there’s still a few more moments of day.
It feels like days could last forever in May, almost June.
I wonder -
how I ever survive winter?
if I can hold onto this time month/season?
how I can forget the magic of light and late nights every year?
The days always seem longer than last, like a forgotten dream.
8:45 pm and the gray sky begins to settle in, the goodbyes made
another day
I heard Joy Harjo speak a few years ago, she said that sunset was the time to thank the day
and then let it go
the day and all its contents are gone, not to return
we can only be here
moving forward

.july.

I spent most of July traveling. There are places that feel extra special in certain seasons/months/transitions but I love summer everywhere. 

I left the hot muggy summer thunderstorms of Western North Carolina for the arid summer heat and wildfires of Central Washington. I grew up in Central Washington but having spent many summers now in humid heat and it struck me this time going back the way dry heat radiates from the earth. On a hike in the sage hills I could feel the heat radiating from the dusty cracked earth, heating me from the feet up. 

I travelled to my favorite lake - bathing in the crisp crystal clear alpine lake, saw the dense smoke from wildfires across the hillsides and went to my favorite hikes collecting sagebrush. It always feels like home, the pulse of land is the strongest there.

The next stop was Boston for a few days to teaching a jewelry workshop. The city felt so loud and chaotic after time in the quiet vast west. I was thankful for the fun of summer nights biking thru Harvard Square with girlfriends and also the reminder of the space I need to feel free. After the weekend workshop I headed north for a week long camping adventure staring in Southern Maine and ending in New Brunswick. 

I’ve been curious to explore Acadia for the past 3 summers, but timing was never right. It’s July and the chaos of the tourism season is in full swing but it was beautiful and wild. A new rugged Maine I’d wanted to meet. 

We hiked as many trails as possible, swam in the freezing ocean and forage for wild blueberries. I can’t wait to go back sometime in the Fall when it’s a little less chaotic.

The surprise of the trip was New Brunswick, Bay of Fundy to be exact. En route driving thru the city of Saint John the fog was so thick we couldn’t see anything but a small patch of road in front of us so when we finally arrived to Fundy National Park the lush wilderness, rugged coastline and the 55 foot tide drop leaving inlets dry at low tide felt so dramatic. We could’ve stayed a week without running out of things to see. Each part of the park offers different landscapes and flora. One hike paralleled the Salmon River, it’s wide open pebble beaches felt like Montana or Idaho. Another hike follow the coastline with fern lined paths and amazing rocky lookouts felt like the Oregon Coast and at low tide exploring the ocean floor I found the most perfect flat and smooth red jasper! I was daydreaming about buying a small cottage near there and taking morning walks to gather stones and inspirations before an afternoon in a studio with an ocean view. Sigh.

The last night was spent at Cobscook Bay in Northern Maine. It was the most peaceful state park I’ve ever stayed at. The sites are isolated and peaceful, most you have to drive down a long driveway before it opens up to the site. We enjoy a totally secluded site sheltered in trees and surrounded by the bay on 3 sides. The low tide was dramatic, totally emptied out the cove at low tide leaving only the cracking sound of clams and a few birds pecking in the muddy ocean floor. 

I’ve mostly spent time in Southern Maine but really loved the wildness of Northern Maine, it felt like a new perspective on the state. 

I’m back in North Carolina already missing my dear ones and counting down for another camping adventure before summer is over.

Late May in New England

The Deepest Exhale

Waking up to see the sunrise has already begun

Layers of clothing no longer needed

Radiating heat reflecting off of delicate skin

Floating in bodies of water

How does it always feel like the first time

summer is coming

.tiny moments of pleasure.

A childhood friend is driving from our hometown in Central Washington back to her home in Chicago this week. She passed thru Idaho last night and we met up for dinner. It was so lovely to catch up in that deep unspoken way that comes from having a childhood in the same place. She brought me a huge bag of fresh picked bing cherries from her family's orchard. A true summer treat!! Today was so so so hot, I made myself a fresh cherry milkshake and had a flash memory of my sweet Nana several years ago in her later stages of dementia. She wouldn't really eat except for fresh cherry shakes and french fries, those were her favorites. One hot summer day my mom and I drove her out to her favorite fruit stand with the best fresh cherry shakes in town. We sat down in the shaded picnic area and I was talking to my mom when I heard a loud slurping noise and looked up to see that noise was coming from my sweet southern belle Nana. I thought of that today with my shake and realized how even as she was fading from us and herself she still had those sweet tiny moments of pleasure.

Life is so unexpected and impermanent - we aren't granted anything, just tiny moments connected together - some are ecstatic, some are warming, some are exciting, some are challenging, some are bittersweet, some are shattering and some make our hearts expand bigger and wide than ever imagined.

This memory reminded me to continue to seek these tiny sweet moments of pleasure in my life. I hope so dearly that you are finding tiny moments of pleasure in your life.

.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.

I've been reading The Book of Awakening by Mark Nepo everyday (so good!!) and something from yesterday's entry really spoke to me, it said "only rarely have I let go completely, yet those moment of total surrender have throughly changed my life." "When lonely and afraid to reach out, I have somehow collapsed repeatedly into the ocean of another's love, and it cleansed my weary heart." I found those words to hold such a beautiful vulnerability, to "collapse repeatedly into the ocean of another's love" I thought about how rare it is for me let go enough to collapse into another's love.

I started thinking about why I keep it all in.
I started thinking about all the things I've learned - absorbed!
The quietness that I have claimed - the weakness - the obedience - the fear.

I realized that in order to collapse into the ocean of another's love I have to choose myself! I have to  start saying I know what is best - that I know what I need - that I deserve all the goodness that is before me.  TO CHOOSE myself! TO RESIDE inside myself with a deep rootedness. TO STOP choosing fear.

I went to Walden Pond yesterday and swan and read and sunbathed and then walked around the pond. I've been going on walks lately trying to pay attention more - observe/absorb. Every time I find so much beauty in the decaying tress - the gaping bark - the hollow trunks - to see the cycle of life/death/regeneration/repurpose - the flow of life in such a tangible way.