Lemon Balm

 Three candles, one protected in a jar

That housed honey from Kew Gardens

A rose maracon

Linen sheets, a ukelele made out of mahogany, a soprano, so small and resonant

I lit my candles and made the rest of the marigolds we will use for day of the dead and offer to the children to remember the spirits of those they loved who are passed with joy and unity. 

I sang a song and had

Lemon balm and sage tea from my mother's garden steeped in a mug from my mother that talks about living the life you've imagined 

On a book about How to Read Water 

I'm tuning the ukulele and watching the candles flicker. I have already been embalmed and anointed with argan oil, saved from Morocco

I prayed to Venus and the first stars I saw, in cynus and in aquila, both beautiful white power birds soaring above me as the night fell. 

I had seen you - I saw you at breakfast and watching the children play

I saw you in the back seat with Coco and Felix 

A moment of actually noticing them together with you back there. Your beautiful round face, dark brown curls and stunning eyes, kind and open like your sister and brother. I sobbed in the car about not getting to meet you, and my glimpse of God was brief and transient 

As fleeting as time 

And just as I peeked forward with my entire heart and soul it vanished like the sunset

It was a quiet, perfect crisp fall sunny day

So so warm in the sunshine

We had Toro and blue crab and king salmon and had a date to honor the moment and whispered together 

The cramps are starting and I will ride them, with my lemon balm, and know that this is as ancient as birth itself, This has it's women's wisdom as ever

The potions that set girls free and the dark flowy magic of the underworld which is in its kindness as true and whole and grounding to the core as any magma underneath it all, land of magnetism

I did a tai chi movement dance at sunset after singing and with the candles 

To ritualize 

I hadn't had a clear head for weeks

I had felt my brain starting to turn limbic and full witness of gentle submission to the thick blinding progesterone fog

It cleared already in hours

Like a sharp rendering

Me jumped out of my transitional body, awake momentarily

A witness of one of those stretchy moments in existentially magnificent doors in life swinging open with a gust, just slamming shut again

I'm at the window sill preparing my breakfast on the train here with my family

Watching the landscape cross under me like the earth itself spinning just as I close my eyes

The rose macarons have been bitten

There is a new sheepskin rug Alex brought in and unraveled tonight, an absolutely gorgeous later Nordic fir to protect the youngest of all, and soothe mothers who are the literal holders of death and birth and the powers of destiny in between.

I have been carried here, sitting up but carried along the way like in a hospital wheelchair between laboratory and waiting rooms

I have been carried here like a ceremonial honor where I am recognized as mother not crone 

Space as mourning mother and wise woman

I am grateful beyond words

I'm not certain at all, never was and never could be

The view is so fleeting 

The key is waking up the spirit to listen

Amen

This is the best part

On a Sunday after half a glass of wine and melting into the darkness of my back porch under the cicadas, high up in the sky with the huzz of the wind and the generators, I wrote an authentic post to my family, which I deleted and posted here instead.

I watched a trapped dragonfly struggle to find the door to exit my sunroom against the big casement windows, fluttering optimistically and vertically, as if it were facing me hovering like a tiny yet enormous angel.

I still cannot decide whether to have a third child. A year into trying and failing twice, and giving up several more times, buying a house, changing careers twice, Alex taking the bar twice, buying a car twice ;) and a major haircut that removed far more stability than I was expecting - 

Today my phone died and I felt terrible suffering from endometriosis and August heat gloom and the feeling I'm working too hard for a property management software startup of all things. Sure ok, I'm on track to CPO. 

But we are having our adventure. It's a far more country and lost version than we had originally planned for. We are in our stopover and it is time for me to milk the dawn and dance with the syrup of life every morning to ensure our children feel stirred in their souls out here, way out here with few mirrors outside of our families to ground them. 

Yesterday we went to the beach twice. First nearly off roading, in a national Park and then at sunset watching the giant hurricane waves from Ernesto, far at sea. Today we saw alligators and turtles and ate stuffed grape leaves & almond cookies from the halal grocer, perogies and leek and potato soup and yesterday I had a cacao iced frappé, and Alex repotted a silver philodendron to an 8' pole.

And this afternoon everyone was melting down and we took the new Amazon inflatable paddleboard out to the marsh!

All 4 of us on one board, like pink  city people figuring out marsh life. It was our first family non rented entry onto the water and it made me feel like a complete immigrant, but I think it changed our kids' lives a little bit and here we are. Trying things on for the first time, still scared, definitely unsure of where we are, but living a deep South dream of sorts.

Sueñitos

 Little dreams

What are our sueñitos?

the littlest ones have to be the most delicate, cariñosos, so tender they fall out of your hands like snow on warm leather gloves

My little sweethearts

Having lemonade on the big front steps overlooking the world below and ahead of them

Learning a musical instrument in the sunroom, finding the joy of practicing and lost in the music groove

Little shoes left outside the front porch

Deep cleaning all the back porches so the wood is scrubbed and fresh and shines through and it's warm 

But not too warm, just enough to sink into

An art studio where we can learn to think big about painting and being free with self expression

Their little hands selecting clothes from their Montessori racks in their closet, maybe even folding shorts one day 

Hammocks on the deck, comforted by dusk

Hugs from linen curtains we will install, illuminated by the summer light at a naptime

Little Felix kisses goodnight in his room, his own expression of self, for once his. 

Real talk with Alex and a wine on a late spring evening on the front porch feeling all right

Hosting beloved friends once we modernize

Building a front door lock where once we are in, the home is ours and it's our home 

Long sweaty afternoons with the kiddos in backyards growing up together, wild and kind and muddy

Sunsets in summer with the feels by the marsh

One day, being picked up by a boat on our little waterway, seeing our lives from that side of things 

Maybe being pregnant, rocking on the rocking chair 

Ceiling fans installed and working 

The fresh sheepskin rug

Noticing Alex again, having landed us both, a npd 

Imbolc

 I used to question whether I was a woman

I felt too cold, I felt too tough

My little hands were strong, probably from throwing pots

And grasping pens to draw elaborate and thick tropical forests as I was listening. 

The men's world was still an icy mountain, but the women's felt like a river, and I was like a fox on the mountain, scavenging and smelling the strong wind

Then I met the Celtic women and saw they held the secrets and were fierce and it wasn't a statement, it just was

And then I became a mother and understood.

Everything. 

My grit was borrowed at an early age, warrior status like a girl given a sword

That she understands

It's heavy stuff. I felt I had too icy a stare to be a woman

Or maybe just a little gay, with elation at the rhythmic and wild things. But also the baskets, and the soft comforts at dawn, and feeling everything, and transitioning through experiencing fully in different ways

My whiteness is deep too

Coconuts in Carolina

 * Transformation ~ Change *

We are settling in with a surf shack, built up in the sky like a treehouse on palmettos. How does one grow roots on the marsh? We take lessons from seagrass - we are becoming watery, will begin with paddleboards and take it from there. We will begin to feel the sunsets and see the stars. 

This is our first house, after so many incredible homes that have held me and Alex overlooking gardens, parks and canals, now we are investing in a little dream by the eco reserve a few minutes from the beach. Can coastal Carolinas transport us to Australia? how about Barbados? we are about to find out. #colonialtropical 

It took a month to wrap our heads around this big leap, but we still have yet to see who we will become. In Mallorca before moving here @madabarcelo gave me a transformation blessing. She saw me and we saw a planet and a palmetto in Port Pollensa and we cried a bit yet I was also so blind to how could I possibly transform, fresh from London, rooted in Spain with my heart split between California and somewhere sprinkled over light blue water anywhere it gathers. I was trying to be steady like a mast, not let myself loose like a sail! As rigid and strong as I can: like an inoperable coconut! Well let's see what this next little coco brings. ! 

 

So much building to do, so much transformation to come ... !