I totally get that. I relate to it in the marrow of my bones. As I was talking to him though, I felt that it was me being talked to. I hope it helped him a bit, because it REALLY helped me.

Here’s roughly what I heard in what I said:

Read through that description again of the life you want to live. Think about what it will feel like to be living that life. Imagine it. Not just for a minute, but really spend some time to be with it.

What does it feel like? How does it make you feel? How does it taste?

Embrace it, hold those sensations. Become familiar with the feeling and sensations you’d experience if you were living the life of your passions and dreams. Get so thoroughly acquainted with them that you would recognize them anywhere.

Now comes the bridge building part. For us, bridge building isn’t as stationary as it is when you literally construct a bridge from one side of a ravine to another. It’s a journey, where things are always changing, always evolving, and always moving. Our bridge building is happening on a spiritual, non-linear plane. Our spiritual and life landscape won’t have a set beginning ravine on one side and a set ravine on the other. At least, it won’t if we are seeking and following a path of spiritual and personal experiences and growth.

There is no real or certain way to have blueprints that you can unroll, look at, verify your materials and measurements, and then roll and tuck into your pocket for safekeeping. You won’t know exactly what you are going to have built once you are done. Not exactly.

But remember when we were talking about getting familiar with what it would feel like to be living the life we want to create and know for ourselves? Remember those sensations that we got intimately familiar with? That taste? That’s the closest thing to a blueprint we are going to have. We are on a spiritual and life path. With the declaration of our dreams and desires… with our intentions, we have put out a breadcrumb trail for ourselves. True, there will be breadcrumbs everywhere, in every direction. People have spread them all around, so thick that we can’t even see that there is a path at all. So how do we know where our path is? Where do we go? What crumbs lead to where we have set out to go?

Breathe. A deep breath. Get grounded and remember the taste of your intentions for your life. Remember the tang or the sweetness… the mildness or the rich buttery flavor… whatever your dreams and desires taste like… remember that. And then, observe first breadcrumb you find on the path ahead of you. You may look at some and instantly know - my breadcrumbs have a flaky light brown crust - not hard and dark. And you can readily dismiss it. Next crumb, it might take as little as a sniff for you to know FOR SURE… this isn’t how mine smelled. And you turn to the next. This one looks right, smells a little more familiar, but now, you have to take a taste. You might have a slew of crumbs that look right and smell right — and you might have to compare. None of them may be spot on - and if not, pick the one that is the closest. Then you proceed to the next crumbs placed before you, and then again. Follow those sensations that you memorized… the taste, smell and feel you recognize instantly as your path.

Sounds a little daunting in terms of getting that bridge built and getting from here to there, doesn’t it? But that’s only as you first start out. The breadcrumbs will thin. The paths will become more obvious. It will happen - as long as you set out. If you sit down for a time, it will take longer. That’s not always a bad thing. Sometimes we need rest. For others, there is a sense of urgency and they’ve strapped on their traveling packs and are setting out to find out. Some it will take what may be or seem like lifetimes to follow their breadcrumbs, and for others, it may take only what appears to be a day. It’s all good. It’s your journey. Seriously, it’s all good.

I’m nearly complete with the downsizing craziness. And for all its craziness, it managed to somehow also be terribly monotonous too. It wouldn’t, WOULD NOT, die. Still it sputters on. Little things like the donation truck having to reschedule for the third time are driving me nuts. There remain piles of books that still need to be sorted, sold or donated. There are boxed files sitting against the living room wall with no tucked away, neatly appointed home. There are a few remaining pieces that need to be relisted on Craigslist or eBay and sold. Yet I’m close, so close.

With that closeness right next to me, holding my hand, I feel nervous excitement for what’s next. For example, Paul & I spent time creating an aggressive budget and savings plan. We want our full-time RV adventure to come and it is dependent on our saving money to buy our new home on wheels. (By the way, Amira asked if we could have a “pet horse” with us when we go on the road… I told her they were much too big and she felt I was being pessimistic and that we could simply tow a horse trailer behind our 5th wheel…)

This whole aggressive savings idea brings me back to the space of being both a money earner while a stay at home mom. I did decently earning money on eBay with my artwork. I don’t know if that will be possible given the economy now or not. I’ve thought about reselling on eBay (have seen a couple of examples of folks doing pretty nicely, especially once they found a niche market). I’ve even thought about further developing my health blog and its traffic. Maybe a combination of all of the above, or something else entirely, will be the way for me to meet my goals. I don’t know.

I do know that I get excited about the idea of painting again. Nervous too. I am in such a profoundly different mindset today than I was the last time I stood; brush in hand, in front of my easel. I’m eager to see how it colors (haha – look at that, an unintentional pun that makes me giggle!) my artwork. And, who I am evolves and shifts at such a rate, I can’t help by wonder how that be reflected onto my canvases. If the sun changed color, moonlight would take on a different glow, right?

Robert Heller said “Fear is excitement without breath.” (Note to self: Google Robert Heller to find out who he is…) My current internal landscape is a few rungs down from fear. Still, I’m clear I need to remember to breathe. In. Out. In. Out. Have you noticed how transformative breathing is? In. Out. Long, deep thoughtful breaths move me from frenetic, disjointed and unaware movements to a synergistic, easy, conscious way of being and behaving. All with something as little as breathing. Amazing.

Anyway. I’d better wake up my beautiful, lovely sleepy heads before they sleep too long and end up awake into the wee hours of the morning. Thanks for sitting with me in this little window of time. I enjoyed it.

A duck quacks loud and annoyed. He clearly woke up on the wrong side of the pond. He’s been kvetching all day.

I’m sitting in the leather chair, knees curled up, feet resting on the matching hassock. Over my legs, I have a thick fuzzy brown blanket that’s doing a lovely job of keeping me warm. Paul’s at his computer. His feet are resting on the table’s supports underneath, his feet moving up and down as though pumping an invisible organ. His mouse hand taps out that rhythm, fast and percussive, that he always taps out when he’s programming. In the bedroom, Amira is either awake or asleep. I don’t know. I’m guessing awake.

Tova’s asleep on his bed with a remaining piece of chewed cardboard under his nose. There is a light snore whispering with each breath. Muta jumps briefly when I move to look at him. He quickly settles back in. He weighs less than 8 lbs. Still he’s taking up the whole couch.

The sun must have set behind the curtain of grey. Suddenly, there is depth and contrast in the sky. Darker clouds in front of lighter, and lighter overlapping darker.

There goes the duck again. Quack-kvetch-a-quack-quack!

This is the first day I’ve sat down to write in months. The process feels wobbly. Much has happened over the last while and I want to try to begin the work of writing it. Seismic changes on my internal landscape and geography have formed new valleys and mountains in my soul. My spirit soars. It reminds me of the fearsome, breath-taking views at Glacier Nat’l Park. There too, my spirit grows larger than me. It is probably the only time that I’d say it is okay that I can’t breathe. Well, I can breathe… only in gasps and swallows of awe.

As I’m writing, it occurs to me that my life is bigger, freer and open to unlimited possibility in a way it never has been before. What has been years in the making has finally happened. Last year, I finally released my need to hang onto what had become the scraps and tattered remains of my Christianity. There probably is a book to write filled with what took me from there to here. It’s a memoir spanning 20 years, if not 30. I won’t start an outline right away though - as I’m sure it would be an interesting read to an audience of, oh, one. But, this last year, finally… FINALLY severed that last thin and tenuous thread. I was released, free. And, at the risk of making a bad pun, Thank God! Free!

I have to believe that the timing of this is exactly what it should be. I have to put away the temptation of wishing it had happened 10-15 years before now. Yet my journey was and is just that - my journey.It’s the perfect time line and the perfect outcome.

Hence, the new land - new, foreign mountains and valleys. It’s thrilling with a chaser of “Where do I go now? No path looks familiar, nothing looks like anything I’ve seen before.” I’m looking for new trail maps, guides and traveling companions. I already found some. Not surprisingly (when I think about it), they were next to me waiting all along. They were with me, next to me - waiting, speaking, and loving me. They’ve been here, even before my eyes, ears and heart were aware they were. What a gift to see them now. Constant. Eternal. Loving. And. Right There!

It’s like the view of my day, my life. The rain, my family, the duck and the sky. It’s always been there, whether I took notice or not. I hope my language and understanding will become more facile as I go. Suffice it to say, for now, NOW that I’m looking, I’m transformed by it all.

I found myself curious about what daffodils mean, and did a little research.  The first definition I found resonated with me.

Daffodils symbolize rebirth and new beginnings.  Lore connecting the daffodil to not only a sign of winter’s end but a lucky emblem of future prosperity.  It is the March birth flower (*interestingly, March is my birth month).

This means as much to me about my life and where it is headed as it does about my concerns and challenges with my health.  They are tied together, inseparable. Regardless of the outcome of the tests, this symbolism was and is a perfect, loving and supportive message to me.

I also searching on the spiritual meaning of daffodils and found:

Daffodils have meanings of faith, honesty, truth, forgiveness, and forthrightness.  They are ever vigilant in returning each spring, and with their return we are reminded that their beauty is capable of following on the shirttails of even the harshest winters (or tribulations).

- and -

The daffodil is symbolic of the power of inner beauty and the clarity of thought.  It reminds us that clarity of thought makes our whole world change and it makes many decisions easier of they are not over analyzed but instead clarified and soundly resolved.

“Their beauty capable of following on the shirttails of even the harshest winters (or tribulations)…” Much of this season of life that I’ve been living in has felt, truthfully, ugly to me.  And at my darker moments, I’ve despaired of either my life or of me ever being beautiful again.  This definition interprets like a promise… and promise rooted and birthed in faith, honesty, truth, forgiveness and forthrightness.

“…clarity of though makes our whole world change…”  And in the darker moments, what I have lacked is clarity (and honesty) of thought.  So, again for me, this is yet another hope filled horizon in the symbolism.

Last, but not least, I found this beautiful William Wordsworth poem that is so worth sharing with you.  I hope you enjoy it.

“I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud” or “Daffodils”

I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o’er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the Milky Way,
They stretched in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced; but they
Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:
A poet could not but be gay,
In such a jocund company:
I gazed—and gazed—but little thought What wealth the show to me had brought:

For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.

Daffodils have never been my favorite flower, and I don’t see them being my favorite after this either.  And yet, they do now hold a special place and even more importantly, a loving and embracing message for me. I’m hoping that something in this message to me will be a valuable, sustaining and a loving and embracing message for you too.

Weekend before last, Paul, Amira, Mom, Dad & I went to Whidbey Island.  We stayed at Fort Casey Inn. I have a lot of pictures from that weekend to share with you.

These are from the rocky and driftwood filled beach at Fort Casey.

We had the most perfect weather (well, except for not enough wind for kite-flying, which caused Paul a little frustration).

The beach was our next to last stop of the weekend.

Paul & I couldn’t remember when we had a weekend like this.  It was spiritually awakening, renewing, and energizing.  The beauty was nearly more than I could hold.

Amira spoke of never going home.

The weekend was filled with beautiful, sweet, peaceful, happy, and joyful moments.  One lapping on top of the other.

This morning, as Paul was leaving for work, I told him how wonderful it was that our family name has only become more appropriate and meaningful.  With each day, we have become more immersed in today, in now, in this and every moment.  We are so glad we are the Moments.

I crossed paths with a quote by a playwright/screenwriter recently that, often, reflects how I feel about writing: “I don’t like to write, but I love to have written.” Sometimes, while in the moment, I do enjoy it. Mostly though, the work of writing is stretching, awkward, and laborious. It is rewarding, but not in a instant-gratification-sugar-high kind of way.

“I write entirely to find out what I’m thinking, what I’m looking at, what I see and what it means.”
-Joan Didion

Writing is similar to photography - it requires a consciousness. It asks me to be aware of life (and not just my own). It invites me to see it, record it, review it and breathe it in again a second time. The brilliant and magical part of it to me? The second time around is no less new.

Yesterday, we spent some time together leisurely walking through Port Gamble.

It was a perfect day with blue skies, light breezes and warm sunshine.

Tabby and I walked around with our camera snapping photos.  Port Gamble was incredibly photogenic.  With every click, she showed off for us.