To The Baby Witches

I am seeing some things in the community that i feel the need to speak on - to whoever will listen. First off, in case you haven’t guessed, I am Pagan. I have been since I was about 10 years old and begun asking questions and studying on my own. This was not an easy road. I had friends whose parents didn’t want their children hanging out with me because of a necklace I wore, or a book they saw in my backpack. I had partners ask me “not to mention that” when meeting their families. I spent decades in the broom closet with my family because even though I knew they would love me anyway, I didn’t want to upset them. It is just within these last two years that I begun fully embracing the term Witch.

Seeing your spiritual practices become a trend is fucking weird. I get that I have a ton of privilege in this area, and that the things I’m saying could apply to a vast array of different cultures and practices. So, while I can only write from the perspective of a modern Pagan, these words could apply to many, many areas. I can only speak from the lens I see from.

Part of me rejoices at seeing the things I practiced quietly for decades begin to enter the mainstream. It isn’t as hard to find supplies, books, or people who know what I’m talking about. There are events to go to! I have a community around me that gets it, and we all lovingly embrace the many variations in our beliefs and practices which are unique and beautiful facets of the same gem. The paths that I felt slipping from the world are suddenly vibrant.

To the baby witches who are just joining us - WELCOME! Seriously, you ARE so very welcome. Whether you are just dipping your toes in, or diving head first,I am happy to see you in these mercurial waters with us. You do not need to earn your place. There is no hierarchy. There should be propriety and respect, but only for things like practices, cultures, and beliefs. The problem is, often times that respect is lacking.

More and more I am seeing customs stolen without any thought to the cultures and people they come from. Words, ideas, and even deities are thrown around like hashtags for someone’s spiritual wall and it needs to stop. Yes, I am thrilled to be able to practice more openly and feel accepted. My heart lights up when I meet a new friend on this path who is finding themselves and what feels right for them. I want to hear their stories and watch them bloom. Your path does not need to look anything like mine, and that is incredible! I want to know what it means to you, and how you got there, because your soul and the way it aligns with the world is stunning. I am also watching the pendulum swing too far in the other directions - from approval to depreciation.

Witch is a word I fought with myself for years to embrace. I cringed at the fear it brought up. Now I cringe for a completely new reason; it is being cheapened. It is trending. It builds followers, businesses, and a mystique of spiritual awakening that has turned it into a marketing scheme for the ego. There are pages and businesses cropping up daily selling ‘passions and beliefs’ that have only existed for a few months or weeks.

I will love the hell out of anyone I see who shows a clear and true connection between their soul, work, and message. I am close friends with, follow, and support an insanely eclectic and stunning array of witchy women and businesses because I desperately want to see them succeed, and for this momentum not to be lost to fickle societal whims. I will also admit that I wince at how often I see nothing but cliche messages and pretty filters being presented as depth.

I have often marveled at a bizarre contradiction with many who sell herbal or essential oil products: They will say they honor the strength of the plants and believe in their healing power, while simultaneously being flippant about safety precautions and doing due diligence to ensure proper use. You either believe they are strong, and thus could be harmful, or you do not and you are just out to make a quick buck. The same is true for spiritual beliefs and services. You either believe in what you are doing, and thus give it the proper amount of time, research, and respect or you do not, and dive in to marketing accordingly.

None of us should ever stop being a student. Even when I teach classes I go in open and expecting to learn. I know that every single person I encounter has something worthwhile to share. I am the expert on nothing, except maybe (maybe) my own experience. For every meaning, story, and association you accept thousands of alternatives exist . Know what they are to you. Think deeply on what they are for others. Somewhere in the space between the two you will always find new understanding.

Discovering a new belief system and how it factors into your life is a monumental undertaking. I want to see you flourish on this journey! There is no set time frame for what this looks like for each person. Some will delve deeply and fully in what may feel like record time. Others will take decades to slowly sift through and mull over what feels right in their soul. None of us will ever be done learning. No one can tell you where you are on your journey, or what you are ready for.

I want to be transparent and clear in stating that I do not have the answers. Paganism is a difficult mix of old and new coming together, typically from several cultures. There is no one right way to do it. Most of us will blunder (I certainly have, and will likely again). I believe, ultimately, that intent and mindfulness are the difference between a genuine heart-felt practice and buying in to a the latest thing. Talking this through with a friend, trying to pinpoint the difference, the best we could come up with is that there is a difference between a practitioner who has learned for their own growth first, and then offers from .a place of continued practice and dedication, and someone who thinks “good enough” and charges ahead. Only you can truly answer that question for yourself.

If your first though on this new path, however, is how you will market it…well, maybe you need to address what parts of yourself are truly leading you here. When it has become such an intrinsic part of you that you cannot work or create offerings without it touching them - honey, sign me up!

Sensuality

The song shared below has come on the radio every morning, after I drop my son off at school, for the past week or so. Every time it is a beautiful reminder to slow down and breathe it all in. This phase is crazy, busy, and often a bit overwhelming. There is so much beauty in everything that needs to get done, but it can be easy to slip into that space of doing and not feeling.

I was speaking to my fiance recently about some realizations I've had with my emotional cycles and needs. He asked me what intentions I was setting for my days. We agreed that what I was really needing was to be present and connected. After a lifetime of thinking I hated winter, and weeks of realizing I feel really down by Thursday, and apathetic by Friday, I saw that it is not winter I hate - it is lack of connection. In the summer I have both of my children with my all day. We are able to go out and see friends as often as we'd like. The sun stays out late so we are able to relax and enjoy the yard together until bedtime. As soon as school started this cycle of ups and downs began. Through journaling I saw that what I was really missing was those connections. Time being present with those I care about is what fills my cup. Without that time to connect my monkey brain kicks in. It feels the lack and begins looking for reasons. My anxiety spikes and I over analyze everything.

Hey I'm Back With another lyric Video Living by Dierks Bently hope you like it!

It's easy to fall into the trap of thinking that now that life is joyful and peaceful old habits and triggers should fall away, because they are no longer needed. That is not the way we work. The defense mechanisms developed over a lifetime do not simply rewire themselves because you tell them you're safe now. They still want to protect you, and look for calamity at every turn.

After months of trying to shut that part of myself off, and feeling extremely irritated that I cannot, I am still trying to approach myself with gentleness. What I have found is that I do not need to rearrange my entire life to squeeze connection in, but rather change my perspective. What is helpful is slowing down, and being mindful with my time. When I check in with friends I lean into their energy and feel the love I have for them. My time with my children is focused. I do not just float through, distracted by what needs to be done. Instead I set things up so even if I am working or cleaning, we are able to be together and bonding. I pause to send my partner love notes during the day. I work to get as much done before he gets home as I can, to protect our time together as sacred.

When I pulled cards last night, at Red Tent, I first pulled Oshun/Sensuality. This card is all about drinking in the sensations of life. The way your hips move when you walk, the taste of your food, the sound of your children’s laughter, the feel of your partner - it is all sacred. It is all connection. This confirmed that this will be a part of my path for healing. The next card I pulled was a bit more sassy, and direct. It simply read: Take Your Time. This is my least favorite advice, but I know it is valid.

on the outside my life does not look drastically different than it was before, but my heart feels fuller, and my mind is more at peace. How often do we feel a lack in our lives not because things are truly missing, but because we are too busy or distracted to feel them? We prepare a yummy meal, but our minds are racing through to-do lists, and we hardly taste it. We sit next to our family members engrossed in our phones. We miss the things our children are showing us as we race through the room. We kiss or hug those we love without ever stopping to breathe in their energy.

Lets be honest; for most of us life is not going to slow down any time soon. That does not mean we cannot slow our minds to drink it in before these stunning days pass us by.

Gate Keeper

The past two days have been a lot. Birth work is beautiful. It fills my cup and is where I find peace. It can also, at times, require sacrifice. 

Saturday I got the call that my grandmother may not make it through the week. I planned to see her Sunday, but was called away Sunday morning to a birth. It was beautiful, exhausting, and powerful. As I hit the 'Start' and 'End' button on my phone's contraction timer texts of 'hurry' flitted across my screen. I tried to keep my expression neutral and loving while I hip-squeezed, grabbed water, admired, and muttered encouragement. I can only hope I did an adequate job of it.

Twenty-fice hours into the thirty hours I was there I received news that my grandmother had passed before I was able to say goodbye. While I was holding space at the gate where life begins, someone I love dearly slipped through the exit. I wasn't able to make it to her in time. 

I could have left. Most would not have blamed me, and I believe my lovely clients would have forgiven me. But my grief? It's not going anywhere. There was no need to rush home to it.

I am all too familiar with the pain of a missed goodbye. I seem to be collecting them. Each one will be with me always. I will have the rest of my life to feel that emotion and work through it. My clients, on the other hand, only had today to meet their baby. They were in a vulnerable place, as all birthing women are, and had gone in expecting me to be there the whole time. That day is the  beginning of their new family. The time to honor each birth is finite, and sacred. 

The juxtaposition between the two transitions was noteworthy. Life coming in, though a joyous celebration, is work; It can be long, challenging, and a trial. Life going out, though heartbreaking, can be peaceful. The opposite, for both, is also true. 

And so, I stayed. There was great healing in seeing the cycle from both ends that day, and I am so honored to be trusted as a gatekeeper. 

Your Toddler Doesn't Need to Jump Through Hoops...I Promise

We attempted a tumbling class for my 18 month old. To me, that already sounds crazy, but when I had viewed the classes through the window, it just looked like fun stuff was set up and the kids got to explore. So, score, a way for him to burn energy in the winter. Sign me up. I hadn't realized there is a social requirement that parents follow their children around narrating every. single. thing. they do. "You're walking toward the door now. The door is red...Oops! You fell down...Oh, look at that, you're pooping on the trampoline. What good coordination!" I understand and appreciate using teaching moments, but at this age they are constantly learning, it doesn't need to be forced ad nauseum. And I can't imagine, if you're babbling at a child incessantly, that the they are actually listening most of the time anyway. 

After 5 minutes of free play we were all asked to sit down to sing a song to stretch. He's one. He can throw his legs over his own head without even trying. Also, he isn't doing the song and dance, I am wrestling him, like a drunk marionette, and trying to convince him this is all more fun than the awesome stuff he's surrounded by. He decided to show me just how limber he really is, and flings his head backwards into my face, giving me a bloody lip.

The little ones are then allowed a few more moments to play, but we are instructed to 'Move them along from one activity to the next so they can master all the different movements!" 0_o He can do every activity the set up, but what he really wants to do is hurl himself into the giant foam pit over and over. I'm okay with this and bury myself in foam cubes, then sit back and watch. It's a foot and a half climb to get out each time. The kids got incredibly upper body strength and I don't think crawling under foam arches is crucial to his development. Another mother eventually follows her daughter into the pit and hunkers down with me. Her daughter is chewing one of the beanbag animals we're supposed to be teaching the children to throw through hoops. She gets it.

We are then instructed to place all of the children onto a parachute while the adults shake it, and the babies sit and cry, or run - smashing into each other - terrified. Ro decides he's thirsty, and this is ridiculous, so he pulls my shirt down repeatedly while I, again, try to convince him to do something he has no interest in. 

At this point I said 'screw it' and walked out. What surprised me most, though, was the horrible self doubt I felt walking back to my car. Is my son a bad kid? Am I raising him right? What if he's one of 'those' kids? I was almost in tears as I buckled him in, until he kissed my cheek.  I called my husband, and he reminded me of all the things we are somewhat certain we are doing right. He reminded me that the only reason our daughter would have stayed on my lap at that age is because she would have been too shy to leave me, probably would have hated the experience, and wouldn't have learned anything from it.

We do circle time at our home in the morning, and he is starting to move and sing along. He glances at stories as we read them, and learns to do crafts with his sister. Beyond that, I really don't know what I'm doing right or wrong most days, but I analyze myself to death. I worry that he is not as cautious as his sister, and I'm mortified when we go to a friends house and he makes it his personal mission to show them all the ways their home is not baby-proofed. We set the limit that if he could hurt himself, someone else, or another person's possessions, Itell him no. If he cries I do not give in. I try to use simple phrases to explain, praying for the day he will fully understand. 

I also believe that right now, he is learning what his body can do. He is amazed by himself, and the world, daily. He doesn't look at a paint brush as solely a means of making designs, he wonders what it feels like on his cheek, and wants to squish the paint. He doesn't just want to sit in a rocking chair, he wants to make the cushions into a slide. He likes to help me cook dinner and do dishes, and hide under the towels as I fold laundry. He makes me laugh and smile all the time. Sure, he sometimes spills water bottles down his front, but I'm impressed he knows how to properly close and open them; And, because he knows how to open doors and has explored every drawer in the house, he goes to get a towel to clean up his mess.

With a bit more self reflection I realized that the only times I worry about my son is when I'm worrying what others think of me because of him. I know he's wonderful. I love his curiosity, and marvel at his strength, determination, and intelligence. I worry why he won't sit in a circle and do something that makes absolutely no sense to him, instead of being concerned with what forcing him to sit to please others will do to his sense of autonomy. I scold myself for not consciously cultivating enough of the knowledge that internet lists say I should be focusing on, instead of trusting in both of us to explore and learn naturally together. I feel suffocating self doubt when my child runs off of the parachute, clinging to me for comfort, when all of the other children on the chute are crying or afraid and don't know how to get out of the situation. He may not be doing the bizarre things a stranger decided he should try, but he knows to get out of a place that makes him uncomfortable. He knows he can trust in me. Maybe I should trust in myself a bit, too.

The Importance of the Sacred Pause

What is the Sacred Pause? We hear this term more often now, but what is it?

Every year, at this time, I experience the sensation of being out of synch with the rest of the world. While it seems that everyone around me is feeling called to New Year's resolutions, diets, and setting out bravely onto a new path, I find myself drawn to quiet, reflection, and planning. The compulsion to charge ahead at this moment feels unnatural to me. I always wait for February, and Imbolc.

After 12 years as a doula, I find I relate many life lessons back to birth - the powerful time of transformation, surrender, and strength. When preparing for labor we often discuss transition. This is the time, said to be right before pushing, when contractions come so close it often feels like you cannot catch your breath. It is the hardest leg of the journey before the active birthing begins. It is not, however, truly the final phase before pushing. Once fully dilated contractions will often space out, and relent, for a short while. This allows the person giving birth a period of rest before the difficult work of moving new life into the world. I often find that I need to remind my clients that it is not only okay to rest here, it is vitally important. This is the time when I ask them to check in with their bodies to see if they need to eat, drink, use the restroom, change the temperature in the room, or move to a different position. Then their work is to rest. It is not to get contractions back, or try to wiggle their baby closer to the exit; it is simply to rebuild their strength.

This is what I have always viewed as the nature of the Sacred Pause. It manifests as the times in our lives when we need to check in, reassess, lick our wounds or recharge our depleted stores before moving forward. Like the clients who say "I think I need to push soon," it is the time to wait for thinking to pass and KNOWING to begin.

After the beautiful but brutal rhythm of the holiday seasons - where one celebration and task piles on top of another for 3 months or more, I find myself craving this pause before I begin birthing anything new. In this time that is no longer holidays but not yet spring I do not feel called - just yet - to planting new seeds. To push this early would be fruitless, and possibly dangerous, to the life I am willing into being. 

I call on all of you who may be feeling the pressure to push when you don't feel ready to recognize your own innate wisdom and knowing. If it all feels like too much, or like the timing is off, that is okay. If you move effortlessly (or even excitedly) from transition to birthing, that is amazing! None of us birth, or flow, the same way. For some this season is a Sacred Pause, and for others it is a fiery catalyst. All are perfect. Embrace what your energy is needing right now, because once it is time there will be no stopping you.

A Love Note to New Parents

"The nights are long but the years are short."

Few things are as profoundly true as the above statement is to a parent. So what, if any, piece of advice would I dare to share with someone who is about to step into this eternal world of paradox that is parenthood? Above all else I would say "Be Gentle. Always, if you are feeling unsure, angry, lost, or confused, think to this phrase first."

Be Gentle...

with your little one. Chances are they will know they made a mistake even before you see it. You do not need to alert them to this fact with yelling, or violence. What they do not know is how to handle their own feelings of surprise, anger, disillusionment, exhaustion, and sadness. They do not know how to respond to someone who has upset them. For this, they look to you. Show them, with your kind voice and loving arms, how you handle the moments that they may inspire you to feel these things. Show them that it is normal, and nothing to be ashamed of, to feel these things. Show them how to handle their emotions in a way that you would be proud to see mirrored back to you, because I promise you, you will.

Be Gentle...

With your partner. Maybe this is a first child for both of you. Maybe this is your first child together. Maybe this is your third. Regardless, this is your first time with this child, in this exact situation. You will each constantly be discovering new, wonderful, and sometimes unsettling things about yourselves. You will be seeing different, and surprising, things in each other. You will be sleep deprived and all of your best plans may go out the window. But, Oh! The adventure you are about to set out on will be worth it! When you feel irritation creeping up, and know your temper is short...breathe. Choose compassion instead. Do one thing to help your partner, and then address your need. Expect the same level of care from them. Make this promise to each other now, and see how many fights never begin. This phase will be as challenging as it is beautiful, but if you learn to love each other now, in your least lovable moments, you will treasure one another in the future.

Be Gentle...

With yourself. This place you are in is uncharted territory. It is understandable that you may lose your footing now and then. You want to be the perfect parent, I know. You have promised a million times to give them everything you never had; But right now you really need them to stop screaming and let you do this one thing. Maybe for the first, or hundredth, time you lost yourself for a moment. Talk to yourself in those moments with the same sweetness you would use to comfort a friend. You did not come to this place with a clean slate. You are the product of a lifetime of experience and lessons - not all of them positive. 

Apologize, even when they are too young to fully understand. Teach them to have tenderness when dealing with themselves and that there is no shame in saying 'I'm sorry.'

Peace

When you're a doula, mentioning what you do for work is rarely simple. Of course, there are plenty of people who know just what a doula is, and those lovely folks are usually eager to tell you their birth stories, their spouses birth stories, or just any ol' birth story they can think of. I know I should be tired of the stories by now, but I love them.

   For a large number of people the initial response is, “You're a what?” Followed by explaining that you are not a midwife.  

• No, I don't actually deliver the baby. I'm there for emotional support.
  

• No, I don't coach like you see in the movies; I hate counting at births.
  

   This is usually followed by the more fun part of the conversation, where they begin looking at you like you are completely insane, or as if you might hold the understanding of one of the great mysteries of the universe.

• Isn't it gross? Isn't it scary? Isn't it stressful? How do you do it? Why do you do it?!

    I smile, usually delivering some cliché explanation of how beautiful it is, and that it is, typically, nothing like the movies. All of that is true, but like telling a woman who is 4 weeks pregnant for the first time that her life is about to change, it is only the very surface of the truth. The truth is, that birth is a lot of waiting, a lot of unknowns, and that I am a person who likes control working in a field where there is no such thing as control. The truth is that life on-call leaves much to be desired, and has trained me to live with a question-mark hanging over my head – eternally tethered to my phone. So why, oh why, do I do this work?

   Birth is where I stopped grappling with the bigger questions of the universe, and learned to trust. I do not need to know exactly how things are unfolding to know my place. I do not need to know how dilated you are, mama. I just need to know how you are feeling, and what is helping you. Baby will come. I do not need to know how long it will be until baby arrives. I know my client can sleep if I keep pressure here, and place lavender over there. So, let her rest as long as she needs.  

   Birth is where I first understood that we are not meant to know everything, because that may be too much, but that we should always keep a keen curiosity and unabated desire to learn. It is where I may not know why this placenta is causing my client so much pain and refusing to come out, but I can see the longing in her eyes to feel peace and hold her baby, so I hold her hand instead. It is not knowing why another mother is holding such strict posture and staying quiet, but still being able to find the words to help her let go. It is where I do not understand why things are taking so long, where we try every trick in the book to get baby to descend, and he refuses. It is where my intution tells me his mother, so very committed to natural birth, is right when says 'not this time,' and requests intervention, only to find that the cord never would have reached

  The truth is that I do like control. I like to schedule. I like to plan. I like to know how A leads to B and that it always will. And all of that is exactly why I love birth. Because in birth A sometimes leads to B unless, this time, it doesn't. Because there is no control in birth, and I can let go. I know my clients wishes, I know how to help them get there, and I know that I trust the process. That is all I can, really, know. If I say “she's 8 centimeters and vocalizing well. I should be home before sunrise!” I will be home in two days. If I say “I just got home from her prenatal, but I think I'll head back to check on her.” The baby will arrive before I pull in the driveway. My truth, is that birth is where I find my faith; Whatever that may be.  

   It is incredibly hard to describe, but for someone who thrives on managing things, birth is where I trust. Where I feel strength born of calm. It is where I trust in the knowledge I have obsessively cultivated for the last six years, and do not need to be in control. It is the one aspect of my life where I go in with no preconceived notions, other than the paramount task of a good experience for my client and her family. For all of the vast myriad of possibilities I could encounter at any birth, the one thing I need to focus on is the experience of the ones who chose me to be there. For all that each experience is full of the unknown, it is a space in which I feel at home. It is my quiet.

There is No Perfect Pandemic

It's crazy how much I needed to read this. I'm betting a lot of you do, as well.

This forced isolation and slow down has brought up a lot of interesting realizations. I've always known I get irritated when I am too busy, but I don’t think I truly realized just HOW busy I keep myself. The reason adding a few extra things to my list overloads me is because there are always so many plates in the air to begin with. Anxiety likes to keep your busy because then there is less of a chance that you will miss something.

Please remember, if you miss something, or are not hyper-vigilant, you have the tools available to fix the situation. You’re not just trusting the Universe here; you are trusting yourself.

Being home for the past two weeks there has always been more than enough to keep me up and moving. I have found myself confused by the memes about staying in and watching Netflix, or vegging on the couch. I am grateful, in many ways, for the things that keep me busy. I have also come to the realization that I am my own worst enemy when it comes to being present. It is a struggle for me to sit on the swings and just breathe in the sounds of my children playing. Joining them for a game or a bike ride is carefully timed out in my head, so I return when dinner needs to be started, the laundry needs to be switched over, or with enough time to get the kids out of the tub and dressed before my partner gets home. In the shower I am running through my to-do list, planning my garden, thinking about meals, lesson planning, and making sure I haven’t forgotten to check in on anyone. At nighttime cuddles I am checking work emails, and scheduling posts. My family asks literally none of this of me.

During the few days of isolation my partner and I started learning Icelandic, I made a pile of books to try to get through, meal plans, updated my Pinterest boards with lessons, art projects, and activities, got a documentary subscription, ordered supplies to work on my products, saved every online tour and learning site I could find, organized and took stock of everything in the kitchen, researched vitamins, herbs, and remedies ad nauseam, and made lists of everything I wanted to work on around the house. I told myself I was going to make the most of this, but the truth is my anxiety was looking for a plan and sense of control.

I’m guessing I’m not the only one out there whose foot taps as they try to take in a beautiful moment - but quickly, so they can move on to their to-do list- turning it into just another box to check off.

For a while I felt incredibly guilty about this. Why couldn’t I just turn off for a second? Diving deeper into how I felt in those moments I saw that it is my way of trying to be loving. Doing things for my family and community is how I show love. Making sure they are prepared, and worrying so they don’t have to, is how I protect them. When anxiety is high this instinct is a bug in my ear. Sometimes it’s a low buzz and sometimes it’s a cacophony, but it is always present. If this resonates with you I invite you to look deeper into your ‘why'.’ Chances are it is not something to beat yourself up for, but it is something you can release.

I was so excited to read a book the other day that my fiance randomly picked up for me. I finished it quickly, and realized the reason why; it was the first book I had read for pure enjoyment in at least 7 years. Everything else has been because I hoped to extract something from the reading. How often do we truly do something for our own enjoyment, and not to get anything out of it? This can turn into a strange paradox where we are having experiences because we believe we will get enjoyment or growth out of them, which then turns into pressure to experience them a certain way. I am doing all of my usual busy work while also setting the expectation for myself that I will relax, take the goodness out of this experience, and cherish what I can from it. Does that ever work?

I was musing aloud the other night that I hope we all keep some of the lessons from this. Feeling myself being calmer had made me realize how badly I needed to slow down, but the idea wasn’t fully ripened yet. It wasn’t the activities, socializing, and DOING of my normal life that was the problem. The problem is me and my own expectations. I could force myself to isolate for a year and I don’t think I would ever shorten my to-do list. If the expectation is that you always must be doing then you will always find things to do. Your life turns into one big Give A Mouse A Cookie joke.

I told myself I was getting fully dressed, typically doing my hair and at least a touch of lipstick every day so I wouldn’t sink into a rut. I knew how important it was to watch my mental health in these times. The truth, though, is that it was my way of reminding myself that this couldn’t be a vacation or an excuse to relax.

Spring is the perfect time to emulate a seed. Isolation may be the perfect pile of dark, stinky, fertilizer. A seed doesn’t just stretch and grow towards the sunlight. It has to break through its own shell and force its way through the manure to find light. Right now we are all planted firmly in our homes and our muck. No one is going to break our shells for us.

Seeing the image above pop up on my feed today suddenly cleared the fog away on the thoughts I was trying to find order in this past week. My own ridiculousness came into sharp focus.

So, my challenge to all of you who identify with even a little bit of this is to reverse challenge yourself for a few days. Allow yourself to stay in pajamas, cook frozen pizza, and maybe even gasp leave the laundry for a few hours. Look around your house and ask yourself what you always want to do, but don’t. I don’t mean cleaning a closet or scrubbing the baseboards. What do you want to do that holds no benefit other than your own pleasure?

If you can’t chill out for one day during a pandemic and social isolation you are never going to. So I’m inviting you all to get your shit not together with me.

With love,
Amber