This was my last day in Anacortes. It's been an amazing, idyllic pacific northwest vacation/adventure/relaxation retreat. Watching the sunset over the Puget Sound every night has been my favorite part. It's also been amazing to have down time, but still have plenty to do if I wanted to. And the weather, oh, the weather. Highs in the 60s, lows in the 50s. Cloudy, rainy mornings giving way to clear, sunshine-filled afternoons. Enough sun to lay out on a lounge chair on the rocky beach with a good book. My hopeful tan is a little pink right now, but it'll fade by tomorrow.
I'm going to miss these views...this quiet, friendly, transient little island...the luxuries afforded to us by this incredible house we are staying at...the weather, of course...the endless shades of greenery brought by the endless rain...the immediate feeling of comfort and home in a place I haven't ever been.
And yet, I am so excited to be home. In the comfort of my own home. With my sheets and pillows and couches and greenery and my partner. I miss him. It's nice to miss each other, we always say. And that's true. We enjoy being independent and participating in separate activities but I'm ready to see his beautiful face and feel his strong arms holding me tight and hear his steady breathing as he sleeps and taste the saltiness of his sweat when I kiss his neck and smell the scent of being home.
Home is wherever I'm with you.
18 June 2014
17 June 2014
les bains douches // joy division
The rain is coming down. Pounding on the roof. Windows are open and the soft ocean breeze is wafting in. My heart is full from a day full of exploring nature, new places, not wanting for anything, wonderful experiences with friendly people, and delicious food. My stomach is full, fuller than it's been in a while. So full it hurts. Some ginger tea would sure be nice.
I am sitting in my bed, reflecting on the past few days and feeling the magnitude of how fortunate I am. For my good health, my loving family and friends, and for the financial ability to make vacations like this a reality. For feeling so guided and supported. For the investment I've been making in my mental and spiritual health. For the words that pour out of me, words that I've read and reaffirmed over and over again, words that used to seem so foreign are now freely flowing out of my mouth, in an attempt to share this light.
Being articulate has never been my thing. I stumble over my words, and my mouth moves more quickly than I can form coherent thoughts. I'm goofy and awkward and soft spoken, I think these are a direct result of being the youngest child and the only girl in my family. Often ignored or left out of conversations, either intentionally or not, it was of notice to me. And those lessons I learned early on from those incidents still affect me, even though I am becoming more sure of myself, and at the same time, accepting my place in my family without resentment.
Just the other day, my brother, his wife, and my mom and dad were all having a conversation about gun control. I was sitting in the back row of this massive SUV and having a hard time following the conversation (I have bad hearing). My brother made the comment that (in his opinion) while it's totally fine to own guns for self-defense and/or hunting, no one needs to own an arsenal of 200 firearms. Militia-forming and Second Amendment what-have-you. So I asked "So what's the limit?" "Well there is no limit." "I know there's no limit now, but you're saying 200 is too many, so what do you think the limit is?"
My question, which seemed true to the progression of the conversation, was met with dead silence. On everyone's part. No one said anything for a good 10 count. When someone spoke again, it was like my question was never asked, and the conversation just flowed on. A few years ago, I would have been angry and hurt, to the point where I would not enjoy the rest of the day (which happened to be the last day my brother and sister-in-law were there). But, instead, I acknowledged my hurt feelings, let them flow through me, told my ego to give it a rest, and just stared happily out the window for the rest of the trip home, as my family kept on having conversations without me.
Finding and accepting your place, with baby steps of change, full of confidence, love, and forgiveness. That's my jam.
I am sitting in my bed, reflecting on the past few days and feeling the magnitude of how fortunate I am. For my good health, my loving family and friends, and for the financial ability to make vacations like this a reality. For feeling so guided and supported. For the investment I've been making in my mental and spiritual health. For the words that pour out of me, words that I've read and reaffirmed over and over again, words that used to seem so foreign are now freely flowing out of my mouth, in an attempt to share this light.
Being articulate has never been my thing. I stumble over my words, and my mouth moves more quickly than I can form coherent thoughts. I'm goofy and awkward and soft spoken, I think these are a direct result of being the youngest child and the only girl in my family. Often ignored or left out of conversations, either intentionally or not, it was of notice to me. And those lessons I learned early on from those incidents still affect me, even though I am becoming more sure of myself, and at the same time, accepting my place in my family without resentment.
Just the other day, my brother, his wife, and my mom and dad were all having a conversation about gun control. I was sitting in the back row of this massive SUV and having a hard time following the conversation (I have bad hearing). My brother made the comment that (in his opinion) while it's totally fine to own guns for self-defense and/or hunting, no one needs to own an arsenal of 200 firearms. Militia-forming and Second Amendment what-have-you. So I asked "So what's the limit?" "Well there is no limit." "I know there's no limit now, but you're saying 200 is too many, so what do you think the limit is?"
My question, which seemed true to the progression of the conversation, was met with dead silence. On everyone's part. No one said anything for a good 10 count. When someone spoke again, it was like my question was never asked, and the conversation just flowed on. A few years ago, I would have been angry and hurt, to the point where I would not enjoy the rest of the day (which happened to be the last day my brother and sister-in-law were there). But, instead, I acknowledged my hurt feelings, let them flow through me, told my ego to give it a rest, and just stared happily out the window for the rest of the trip home, as my family kept on having conversations without me.
Finding and accepting your place, with baby steps of change, full of confidence, love, and forgiveness. That's my jam.
16 June 2014
bon iver // bon iver
Tonight, my parents and I had a tough conversation. It was wonderful to share ideas and talk about belief systems, but I know their hearts were breaking as I finally admitted something they wished wasn't true: I don't consider myself a Christian anymore (and haven't for a while). While it was painful for me to see their faces fall, I feel, for the first time in my life, that this spiritual path I am on is wholly and genuinely mine. I did the work to get here, and I am happy, and fulfilled, and will continue on this path. It doesn't have a label or a fancy place of worship, it's not black or white, it's messy and grey and evolving just as I evolve, and no, I don't know all the answers...but this, this is mine, it is me.
I know it's not easy for them. It's been a conversation we've been avoiding for a long time. But it happened organically tonight, and in the midst of another wonderful conversation about my and Drew's relationship, and our pursuit of marriage. We talked about values and raising kids and my childhood. I emphasized how much I loved the way I grew up, and tried to talk about the struggles I had (have?) as a young adult, but without being unnecessarily critical or hurtful. It is a fine line to walk. Open conversations such as these require great honesty and great courage. Sometimes that leads to hurt feelings over disagreements. And I think that's where we need great love, to forgive each other, accept our differences, and keep growing together.
I encouraged them to do the same for any kids Drew and I may have that they did for me. I want my kids to have those experiences, just as I want them to have access to other experiences. I want them to experience love, humility, kindness, patience, joy, peace, thankfulness, faithfulness, gentleness. My parents are shining, walking, living examples of these things, and the best teachers of the Christian faith I have ever had. But I also want my kids to know that they are loved, and supported, and free to express themselves fully.
Okay, this was more than ten minutes. I'll continue this at a later time. But I want to leave with this: I did a morning yoga + meditation session on a deck on the Puget Sound this morning (family vacation in Anacortes). The message in today's meditation was "I am free to express myself. I am supported. I am loved." I mean, could there have been a better message for me to meditate on to prepare me for all of these wonderfully hard conversations about who and where I am? Because our universe/guiding force/inner soul sister/God/what-have-you knows EXACTLY what is up, before we even have a clue, and that is an awesomely divine thing to experience.
I know it's not easy for them. It's been a conversation we've been avoiding for a long time. But it happened organically tonight, and in the midst of another wonderful conversation about my and Drew's relationship, and our pursuit of marriage. We talked about values and raising kids and my childhood. I emphasized how much I loved the way I grew up, and tried to talk about the struggles I had (have?) as a young adult, but without being unnecessarily critical or hurtful. It is a fine line to walk. Open conversations such as these require great honesty and great courage. Sometimes that leads to hurt feelings over disagreements. And I think that's where we need great love, to forgive each other, accept our differences, and keep growing together.
I encouraged them to do the same for any kids Drew and I may have that they did for me. I want my kids to have those experiences, just as I want them to have access to other experiences. I want them to experience love, humility, kindness, patience, joy, peace, thankfulness, faithfulness, gentleness. My parents are shining, walking, living examples of these things, and the best teachers of the Christian faith I have ever had. But I also want my kids to know that they are loved, and supported, and free to express themselves fully.
13 June 2014
false floors // rogue valley
Tonight, Austin was put on a tornado watch. So Drew and I headed out to the highest point in our neighborhood, sat on the curb, and watched the dark skies light up. It was a beautiful show, one that left us full of awe and wonder. Sure, there was danger, but we weren't far from home, and there was barely any wind. Tornadoes are windy, ergo, no wind = no danger.
There was a cat hanging out on the hood of a truck parked in a couple driveways down the road. We figured as long as the cat was hanging out, we'd be safe too. We kept looking over at the cat, and it seemed like the cat was checking us out too. We were saying "Don't look at us cat, we're looking at you!"
Finally, the rain really started coming down, and the lightning was decidedly closer. The cat took off, so we climbed into our car too. When we got home, our housemates were waiting for us and we promised to wake them up if the tornado got closer. They go to bed early, and we usually stay up past midnight, which is when the tornado warning would be over.
I now have this fierce desire to be a storm chaser. I'm convinced that people would love to watch us chase storms all over the world, on a motorcycle, and discovering delicious foods along the way! Seriously, I think that people would love that shit!
Anyway, it was wonderful to just sit outside with the love of my life, watching these amazing things happen around us, feeling so small and yet, so full of love and awe that I felt like an integral part of this universe, like all these things happening around me are simultaneously happening inside me and the connectivity of it all, the flow of the storm, of life...that's some real good stuff there.
There was a cat hanging out on the hood of a truck parked in a couple driveways down the road. We figured as long as the cat was hanging out, we'd be safe too. We kept looking over at the cat, and it seemed like the cat was checking us out too. We were saying "Don't look at us cat, we're looking at you!"
Finally, the rain really started coming down, and the lightning was decidedly closer. The cat took off, so we climbed into our car too. When we got home, our housemates were waiting for us and we promised to wake them up if the tornado got closer. They go to bed early, and we usually stay up past midnight, which is when the tornado warning would be over.
I now have this fierce desire to be a storm chaser. I'm convinced that people would love to watch us chase storms all over the world, on a motorcycle, and discovering delicious foods along the way! Seriously, I think that people would love that shit!
Anyway, it was wonderful to just sit outside with the love of my life, watching these amazing things happen around us, feeling so small and yet, so full of love and awe that I felt like an integral part of this universe, like all these things happening around me are simultaneously happening inside me and the connectivity of it all, the flow of the storm, of life...that's some real good stuff there.
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