I have left this space black for oh so long. years in fact. giving so many reasons why I could not sit down and write, and now it has been lifetimes since I let my fingers cover the keys and now my poor self is out of practice. the stringing together of words has become hard and forced and I feel this inability to articulate in my bones. in my communications with my people, with myself, my heart. I have stifled my own voice for many years now and that is devastating to me. 

it takes practice and love and kindness and holding space. it takes knowing your words have worth and finding them backed with strength. not the forceful strength but the kind that is filled with honesty and conviction and love, truth. I have forgotten how to speak my truth, not thinking it has worth. 

how IS that. how could I have done that to my own self. but it is not about blame, but of noticing. the practice of noticing and then allowing it to be seen. really truly openly, without shame or blame, SEEN. 

for the last few years I have been cultivating relationships with strong women. holding space for them, serving them, and loving them. and in turn creating space in which I can heal and regrow my voice. it is like the plants that I don't know how to care for, they take time and observation and they can't always tell me what they need to flourish and sometimes it is simply giving them space in a beautiful and nurturing place and they can go within, rebuild and begin to grow their roots deep and true. it only then that the outward appearance begins to become a visual representation of their happiness, their expression of deep wholeness and wellness. 

this analogy feels so true. by growing my roots and simply clearing away the underbrush, the parts of me that no longer bring me that which I need in order to shine. simply creating that space and having my wonderful women in my root system through which love and support are flowing is building me back up. the plants and magic that resides within them have become such an integral part of my daily ritual... how easy it was to let the plants be a way I only allowed others to flourish and prosper, withholding them from myself thinking I was not worthy of their love and healing and not allowing myself to see clearly the harm that simply denying healing and true seeing the stifling of my spirit and body.

is here and there that the process of healing has begun. 

making medicine

My mother always told me that making medicine was a sacred act.

Ive been reading her books religiously, the ones she wrote, the notes she took from her beloved teachers, the notes she took from the ones she couldn't stand but knew they had a message for her, the travel books, the oh so personal ones she wrote, the ones hidden amongst the chose few herbal books to live in her work space, the ones she wanted to share with the world, the ones she never intended anyone to see, the ones i half close my eyes, and then weep, and then close and put away... all of them i have poured over, scouring, trying to soak it all in.

Again and again she wrote that when making medicine you need to be aware of the space that you hold, your intention, your love, your patience and the care for not only the ingredients but for the people who will take the medicine. The people you want to heal. For it is not only the medicine, but the love and kindness, the caring, the spirit you cultivate and infuse into the medicine that works the magic.
(She was not the only one i have heard say this, in my nutrition course there was so much talk about putting love into the food you prepare, and to slow down and not rush, for that intention with which you make the food, which is also our medicine, will transfer to those who eat it.)

I have been procrastinating making these things, these wonderful teas, tinctures, liqueurs, syrups and the like for the last few weeks.
I can see now why i was procrastinating.... i have been so worried about the bruises and the broken heart residing deep within me that i hardly ever let rear their painful heads. Because it hurts. I miss her terribly.
Making these medicines brings me so close to her.
There were so many of them that she started and then left unfinished. And i know it probably wasn't on purpose, but she was so fucking smart! half of me bets that she left these things unfinished knowing that i would have to finish them and then i would figure out the steps i could never remember, the measurements, the time, the details she kept stored in that complicated brain.

So i lit candles and changed my music and started talking to the medicines as i make them (in my head, lest my elder house-mate think i have absolutely lost my mind, which is highly probable anyway)

This might be one of the hardest things i have done to date. There is no one holding my hand, there is no one to let me talk it out to who will hold no judgement and then talk it all in a circle back to me. There is no one who can tell me it will be ok, that things are fine, and shes just gone for a short while.
There is just me and her shadow and the flitting memories

...

So this space we create when making medicines. it is a sacred space, there is human emotion, there is life, there is healing, there is the will to live and to prosper and to connect with the plants and their intense ability to heal the depths of our soul, our hearts, and our bodies... all infused into each drop of medicine made. 

It is with this, that i shall go check on my Solomon's Seal oil that i will later combine with a St. John'swort oil my mom made last year, a massage oil for tightening ligaments and tendons, muscle aches, arthritis, gout, burns, bruises, and lots of other like inflammation.

what do you see

when i look at you i sometimes catch a glimpse of the future, the lines on your forehead, the crinkles on either side of your eyes. The years look good, your skin a little more weathered from the wind and your eyes just as shining.
i sometimes wonder if you catch me gazing at you, a small smile on my face. i see love and wonder and so much passion. i see what i can only describe of as home, the most warm and comforting place i can imagine. i see a man who is radiant with so much life it shines out of his beard. i see intense care and tenderness, i see strength and control and loyalty to the end. i see a man whom i love and appreciate more and more with every passing day. i see a man who i trust with my life. i see someone who has their heart in the right place, and will do everything and anything for someone he loves, and will go to the utmost extremes for a stranger in need. i see someone i want to build a life with, someone whos arms are the ones i want around me at every opportunity, and whos eyes i hope to gaze into for a long time to come. i see a youthful love for life and adventure, daring and risk taking that will be there the rest of his life. i see someone who i love to pester, to play with, to tease and to love. i see the most attractive person i have ever met.
it is rare to come across someone who is honestly themselves and unapologetically so.

i sometimes want to ask you what you see when you look at me. in the morning light, in the soft glow of our candle lit dinners, across the console of your truck. what do your eyes capture that mine do not, do you see me through rose colored glasses? do you see me blemishes and scars and wildly a mess and all?

the mists

its been a long while since i sat at this computer with not a soul but the animals around and thought it a good idea to write.

there is never enough time and here i barely have any.

but that is what i wish to change. more time like this is exactly what the doctor ordered, just mind swirling, images and photos and wishes and dreams mixing, bits of the past and dreams of the future like moving through mist in the early morning light, you can make out shapes, but they shift and you are unsure of company except for what your gut tells you. noises muted and muffled, voices belonging to any or all or none but the imagination spinning out of control.

the misty mornings are always in a place where there are no neighboring lights, the voices are my loved ones, from far away, and all that i can be sure of is the overwhelming sense of that this is what is ahead of me. the shifting shapes are always different, the surroundings are not as important, it is this wave of heart wrenching warmth and love and abundance.

i know that moving through the mist will never take me to a place i do not want to be, perhaps instead it is just the path that is unclear and the ending has always been the same, but i was just too stupid to realize it.

twinkling lights of a fire and lights strung up on the porch, a dogs tail wagging furiously, munching of grass from big warm fuzzy animals, that much i know, the wind moves through pines transporting you to the tops of the trees, where watching the weather move through is a gift and the excitement in the air is also nourishing end energizing.

i have been waiting for the mists to rise and fall on this view for so long and the uncertainty to become a little more real. i have been reaching for it for so long, only able to grasp it by pouring over photographs of landscapes i have yet to inhabit. i can feel it getting closer, the yearning for it is sometimes unbearable, and then i sit with some hot tea and let my eyes gobble up images of what may be.... and gently drift into daydreams, the mist swirling behind my eyelids

this limbo

Out of the glass door i can see a tiny fragment of a plant. It is bathed in the unnatural light of a solar garden luminary.
The sight is so familiar and so strange. there are clouds in the sky and no stars. there is no light except for the man made kind.

Sometimes this is what we see. Sometimes there is no light except what we decide is there. There is no moon, there are no guiding lights. There is no illumination from the last rays of the sun filtered through thick clouds. It is only a murky darkness, the kind that you get lost in. The kind of darkness that has lead travelers astray for centuries.

Sometimes we are in this every thickened and oppressive darkness, and the only thing left to do is to search it for a few rays of human made light... a few stray beautiful,  shining, glowing lights amoungst the oppressive darkness.

This is place i do not like to stay long. it hurts, it becomes difficult to breath, all the shit, all the hurt, the pain, the "done me wrongs" of your life come flooding back.

And these little beautiful floating fairies of light and beauty become all the more valuable. The moments of closeness with someone you love. The soft brush of the face of an animal. The new flower blooming... The knowing that everything happens for a reason and sometimes those reasons seem completely stupid and worthless, but that in the end it looks like a winding and meandering stream slowing joining with other beautiful winding steams, combining their stories and futures and pasts to become a stunning picture of growth and time and knowledge gained. These are the moments when you can step back and see where you might be headed, what incredible and breathtaking views you have seen, and might see tomorrow, never the same and always more beautiful than the last.

How is it that the only thing i want to share with you is the experience, the observations, the views... No matter how many times i have seen them they will always be different when i see them with you. You came into my life when i didnt think i needed anyone. You came into my life when i thought i knew what my future would be, and you turned it upside down. The view was so different when i stood with you and looked at my world from a different point of view. It needed not be a one of disappointment and resignation. It was ok to reach for what i wanted.

Do you know what I want? Do you really? It is to be be able to walk the day and not think of tomorrow because this one is so beautiful. It is to be caught up in what is to come, and then to be startled back to the beauty of the day. It is to crawl into bed, and be pulled in close , your head resting in my hair, to not even be able to distinguish your words when you mumble, asleep, "loveyou". it is to wake up every morning and to not want to get out of bed because what more could i want with the sun, or the rain, and the sky and the clouds, and that tree, and this dog, and that purring kitten, and my love with your arms draped around me, and then to realize that the day is only going to get better from there.

Sometimes the garden is the most perfect comparison. You plant these seeds, you think so hard and long about what you want to grow, what you want to grow next to each other, how wild can your imagination go? I my garden that I planted this year, I was gifted space, the magical and elusive gift of space. So my dream... which that it has been, I have spent many a night ,with visions of spiraling vines and fruit and vegetable laden plants growing larger than life. In my dreams it is much like the secret garden. Of that movie I remember only a few things, I remember the intense and overwhelming swellings of grief, of loss and utter despair. I also remember the most beautiful garden, nearly overgrown, yet clearly kept and beautiful, full of flowers. And that is what I dream of, a place to put down ones sorrow, a place to bury what needs to be left behind, and a place where the flowers can take that sadness and turn it into utter beauty. And here we are at the beginning of the season, when you plant seeds, so so so many seeds, you can almost smell the flowers as you plant the seeds, and then you step away, you step back from the garden and ll you see is barren ground, sometimes cracking and dry, no life, just blank. Nothing. Maybe tears and sweat have dropped into the soil, empty beds of imaginary flowers. The only thing you can do is wait. You wait and wait and wait. it becomes an obsession. Finally they start to emerge. The weeds grow wild. and when you pull them out it again is an empty wasteland. at some point you look away. And when you look back, all your hard work, the sweat, the tears, they have grown and what emerges is the most beautful and wild garden of them all. It needs tending and care. love and a firm touch, but it will grow for you in ways you only dreamed it would.

And this place of uncertainly, of barren wasteland with little paths and divots in the ground where i planted the seeds.... this is where my life is. I planted all these seeds, and then at some point, now i look away for a minute... and hopefully everything shoots upward. I can only hope and cross my fingers and water the garden.

I will crawl into bed and be grateful for what i have, I will smile softly to myself as he falls sleep with a heavy arm draped over me, breathing heavily into to my hair scented of ponies and hay and dreams.

Levity

If I would have known what my life would be like and how happy i would be a year and a few months ago, I am not sure things would have happened like they did. This year has been one of transformation in a very serious way. In may of last year I was neglected, tired, frustrated, belittled, silenced, and walked all over. I was planning a wedding that I figured would change things, or I guess I was hoping it would. My mothers health was on the line and our family was in survival mode. At a certain point I realized that the most important thing was to find the joy in every day and that nothing should get in the way of that because at the end of the day our time here is fleeting and I dont know about you, but I would like to have enjoyed the ride.

My mother and I spent countless hours in the garden, cultivating our friendship that had lapsed for too long and her passing along the knowledge that can only be handed down from mother to daughter in stories and anecdotes.

As the year passed and it got cold, the garden was winding down and I found my solace at the barn once again. Wonderful supportive friends and horses who don't judge you but just lend an ear and unconditional love. The winter was a hard one and i found myself drawn to a man I had known of for quite some time, and yet had never connected with. Fast friends we became. He held me and let me be me, made me dinner while I wept to my mother on the phone about my disintegrated relationship. 

He never held any judgement, just listened and held me up. He brought a kind of joy into my life I am not sure I had known before, playing games, sledding and remembering how beautiful and joyful the littler things can be. Appreciating the beauty in the winter and the comfort that can be found in the cold dessolation of the winter months.

I am not sure when I realized I had fallen in love with him. I do know that at some point I realized that i would and that there was nothing that could stop it from happening. The love I had had for her had been gone a long long time. This was something different. This is something different.

I am in a place now that feels more like home than I can ever remember.  It is a feeling of fullness, a swelling of the chest, an expansion of the heart so great, you feel like you might burst, and yet it is not scary, it is comforting and wonderful and nurturing and exciting! To feel satisfaction and contentment in the path you are traveling is a beautiful thing. a beautiful thing indeed.

sometimes it happens.

sometimes it is overwhelming.
you dont know when it will happen.
its this thing that overtakes you.
and the only way to get it out is to let it go.


how do you let it go.
how do you let it free?
how do your face your biggest fear as a human?
how do you face death?


My own death would be easy(ier) for me.
i would be gone.
i will see my loved ones one day soon. soon enough. in another life, in another place, just not here and not now.

but the death of my mother?
of the person that made me?
the person that dreamed of me and wished of me (even if she didnt know it then)
the person that raised me and made me who i am.
the person who, with my father, has loved and held me through thick and thin, and no matter what has never let go, but has only loved me more?


this is something we all go through. it is completely inevitable. and yet it is the hardest thing any of us will ever encounter. You think that it will be hard to lose the one you love. you are wrong. nothing will ever compare to losing the ones who begot you. you have no idea.

And still, I am so lucky, or unlucky, i have not yet decided. To know they are going to leave this life and leave you to fend for yourself, is that a wonderful or a horrible fate? who is to know. Each experience is so different. We have spent the last few nights sleeping in the same room. and not last night, not the night before, but tonight is when i feel it. Tonight is the night that i feel so separate. Why is she so vulnerable tonight? She has us to protect her. is it that i am so vulnerable tonight?

it is like a puddle of self pitty. i cant decide if i am jumping into it or if i am appreciating that there is this huge, beautiful, wrippling puddle of self pity there, and i am going to jsut sit here on the edge and know its there but not jump in.

I think i jumped in, and now i am wading to the edges. I can look back as see what is there. I cans see that my mother has reached this point where she is just so happy to be here. She is just so happy to be with us, and in her garden, and with my father and her friends and she doesnt give a fuck. Her life is hers. Finally. After all this time. and here i am being a total twat and thinking about myself.

We really are just such selfish creatures. So selfish. We want what is easy, what is kind, what will spare us. And yet the reality is that the fates are cruel. This is what she has always said. They will send all the best things your way at one time, so you have to choose. They will send you all the worst parts at once so you feel like you can not go on, that this world is a horrible place. They will throw things at you one after another to see what you can handle, and it is your job to figure it all out and make the best of it.

Make the best of it.
Here it is.
This, for me. This is me laying it all out.

my tears have dried, my nose is only sniffly once and a while, and i can begin to appreciate the little things again.
the breath moving in and out of my body. the smells. the fresh smell of rain. of a wood fireplace. of maine. The sound of the rain. The sound of my parents sleeping in this beautiful old room. The sound of bon iver singing me into a place of calm and acceptance. Not complacence. But acceptance.

Here. This is place I have been before. It has been a while. It is always slightly different. It always a place of growth. always a place i am just a little familiar with but a place i have never been before. here is a place where i know i am doing the most work. it is perpetually uncomfortable, and indefinitely wonderful. I spent a long time here this last year. Who am I? Who do i have? what do i have? how did i get here? how will i move on from here? who will support me? What do I love? who do i love? do i love myself enough to do... To move... to be... to exist... to question... YES.

and here we are. You and I.
For if you are reading this, you have have accompanied me on this journey.
We have arrived in a place of peace. can you feel it? i am calm. we are calm. there is no infinite right now. there is only now and this place and us. I feel you with me. This is a new place for me, and if it is not for you, than i take you as my guide, and if you, like me, have never been here before, let us grasp hands, and walk as one. This part is unguided. I can not wait to see where we go from here. let this be exiting for you too. let us explore. let this be. i can not wait to see where we go from here.
xo.d.

just another night

there is a furry ball of purrs curled in my lap. she has been screaming at me for the last half an hour, following me all over the house... i guess she got what she wanted. she just slowly kneads my leg, ever so gently, and perioticly looks up at me, she knows i will look into her big brown eyes and rub her ears between my fingers,

there is such comfort in such small gestures.

recently ive had this recurring feeling of dread. well, its been since i moved out here i suppose. ill be at the barn, ill be in the garden, ill be working out... and i have this moment of panic... i must go home! or... fuck. i have to leave soon, i better not stay any longer or dillydally or stay and talk to soandso... and then i remember.
then, inevitably come the
overwhelming urge to pinch myself. WAKE UP!

this is so dreamy.... you must be sleeping.
but im not. i am awake. i am more alive than i have been in years. or maybe ever. i am more in my body, more in my mind... so present.

it feels so good.
and sometimes i feel myself sliding backwards, and i have to think.... "where are you going? think on it a moment. what is wrong in life? nothing? well then get the fuck over yourself!"
and really....things are soo good. just so. so. good.

gosh riley is cute.

im not sure why exactly i sat down to write. im not sure what the purpose of this particular writing is.... besides to settle my mind, my racing mind.

i have written about this and that and most things in between and i cant bring myself to repeat myself right now. even though the feelings this time and this place and this night elicit are similare in all but time past and time present.

here is where i sign off. adieu

today. part 3.

every time i go to sit and write... my fingers move over the keys in the same way. the same words, the same tone.

........today i sit where i want to sit, and am doing what i want to be doing.

the circumstances have changed this time though, and altough those words are still true the sentiment  behind them has changed.

so many things have changed.
Every day i wake up not wanting to leave bed but so excited to be awake.
there is someone new next to me now in this bed is mine and no one elses. 
the fire that i have been trying to suppress for so long is burning bright and wild.

i think back to sitting at my desk in the living room of my old house. i closed my eyes and saw visions of  my future. i heard the birds singing... so loud that it is almost unbearable. the din of the crickets at night. the soft breeze of the freshest summer winds rustling the trees.the sounds of horses munching lazily without  a care in the world.
everything felt so close.... and yet it was the furthest thing from my life. i could feel it. i could feel it.

"As I type this there is a swelling in my throat. You know the feeling. The feeling when you think of the someone you love coming up behind you and wrapping their arms around you. When you can feel them, smell them, hear them, but you cant see them unless you close your eyes.

i wrote: "My lust and day dreams are of this picture. This house, these animals, this life, but in ten years. I am seeing my future. The plants hanging, drying from the rafters with a fire in the wood stove. The windows frosted that look out of the fields with our horses lazily grazing in them. Our kitchen filled with eggs and plants and herbs grown from our love and our fingertips.The noises have changed though. In my daydreams of the future there are chickens chuckling, wind blowing through the trees, the crackle of the fire, the birds singing their winter songs. The sounds of an old house breathing. "


i still see these things. but now it isnt ten years. i am not spending this life waiting any more.


My "now' is one of those moments i dreamed of.
there is a fire in the fireplace of my beautifully old and creaky house....or could be if it wasnt warm and the air filled with satiny waterdrops of humidity and early morning dew.


there is a cardinal and her beloved who live in my wisteria.

i can see and feel the same future for myself but now it doesnt exist in this fairytale world where i spend the "now" living in my personal hell and only being able to escape for short times to this place... this  magical land where my dog can run free and my days are spent with sweet warm breaths of ponies only an arms reach away. where my plants can reach their roots deep into the ground if they choose. deep deep down where the soil is cool and nourishing.

here is where i want to set my roots.... not in the city. i have played the part for far too long. i have loved the city, i have loved in the city.... and always in my heart i have been yearning for the day when i could leave... leave the nonstop sirens and children screaming. the endless loop of mister softee's plea for business.

i have been day dreaming of this life for so long. the anticipation made the desire so much i could barely stand it and the reality so much more fulfilling.

and the best part of it all is knowing that this is just the beginning.
i wake up everyday not wanting to leave bed but so excited to be awake .

self sufficiency

With every passing day the vision i have for my future changes. What the fates have in store is always cruel and always tough love, and yet when it comes down to it without life's trials we would be weak and ungrateful and unhappy. For when do you learn what happiness truly is, but when life throws something difficult at you.
however i am not here to say that life has left me battered and beaten, that my life is somehow inexplicably hard and it sucks being me.
 i lead a charmed life. I do. I am one lucky son-of-a-bitch. that is the absolute truth.

I mean, even now as i write this, I am sitting in an ancient house in a medieval town on the edge of the atlantic ocean in France... with my feet up and a fire in the fire place. a hot toddy in a beautiful metal mug next to me.... life doent get much better. and i am trying not to count my blessings, but instead to appreciate them.

sitting on the edge of the ancient Seine river yesterday i had a moment of realization. the kind one will have when surrounded by such grandeur, history, ... the sense of being so small and insignificant. your worth becomes something so menial that you can do nothing but figure that in fact you must have some purpose because otherwise the universe would not even bother with such small inconveniences as making sure you continue to live and to thrive.
and this is how i came to reflect about how i have changed so much since the past time i was here in paris. the last time i was here i spent so much time pining, for a boy who didn't want me, for a life i didn't have, for experiences i hadn't had yet... for these things i thought i wanted so desperately.

and there i was, sitting in the sun. book in my lap, the water of the Seine lapping gently below me as i sat on the very edge of the stone wall that has been keeping those waters contained for longer than i can fathom, and i watched a couple kiss up on the pier. I waved to my dad standing in the middle of the bridge, i watched a gigantic mallard fattened by how many seemingly kind souls offering up pieces of their baggettes. And i thought that indead what i have always preached but never truly lived... was something i had had to grow into:
Self sufficiency is the greatest of wealths.
and this is a sentiment that i had abandoned for so long. i used to hold the phrase so close to my heart, i tried to live by it. i tried to not rely on anyone else for monetary security, for my moods and feelings of worth. but that is absolutly not what the phrase means. or what it means to me now, and i am sure its essence will change until the day i die...
but sitting with the sun washing over me, feeling the heat, the slight breeze that was just barely warm coming off the cold water, i felt truly self sufficient for perhaps the first time in my life.

i do not need anyone else to validate my experiences. and when it comes down to it, that really is all that life is. it is whatever you take from your experiences.

I have been trying to be present in every moment. Yes, planning must happen. you get excited about the future, you dwell on the past... but those are all parts of the experience, part of the journey. they make up your moments. they make up your memories, and there isnt anyone else you can rely on to carry your memories for you... they can help make them, they can help fuel them, they can help remember them, but ultimately it is you and you alone who is responsible for existing, remembering, and living. you must be solely responsible for making sure you are really living in the moment and making these memories and appreciating them.
appreciating your moments. i guess it doesn't even matter if you remember them. its about existing, and appreciating. and living, and being ok with being the only one living that exact moment and that exact set of circumstances with your past and your future and your you-ness.

to me, that is the essence of self sufficiency. that is the most valuable gift.

these moments have been been elliciting a deep gutteral feeling in me more and more. the feeling of a connectedness that has perhaps been elluding me for quite some time.

it not quite like the euphoric sort of shakey butterfly feeling. it is the feeling of things happening, big things. you can feel them in your gut. that constricting of your chest, but in a good way.
i alluded to it before, as that feeling you get when someone you despretely love comes up behind you, and you can feel their presence. you cant see them, you cant feel their touch yet, but you can sense it... just before their hand touches you.... you know that it will be there on your shoulder, your hip... and you know the warmth of their hand, their body behind you... you know these things before they happen, and its not really a premintion, its not a vision. its just knowing. its being connected to someone that has no sense of urgency or reliance but of mutual appreciation and pure and unadulterated love.

the connectedness. that thing, that invisible thing that ties people, ties experiences, places, smells, touch... all of it is so deep inside of us, and yet so many of us have never experienced it, or have and think they are crazy. it isn't real. your sense of deep human knowing somehow makes you looney.

but it doesnt. it makes us real. it keeps us grounded. we can cultivate it, listen to it. feel it.
i try and listen. taking moments here and there to feel that building up of excitement, of yearning, of knowing.

there are these images of the future that i had in my head. i had them in my heart. they were mostly of small things but for me, necessities. to feel connected to the world. to be able to have my hands and feet in the earth all the time, to be still for a few moments in my everyday life and think... YES this is it. this is why i was put here. to be able to experience this and live this and this is me

every day it was drifting further and further away. i was just waiting. stalling my life until i could make it happen... and getting more and more resentful of the life i was living... i wasnt free. trapped. and it was partially self inflicted. i couldnt see the connection. i couldnt feel it. i dreamt it. i could sense it was there, but it was so intangible, so far, and getting farther away with every day, with every new commitment.

for a while i tried to make things happen. i quit my job.  i went to the farm several times a week. i went to the horses several times a week. i loved every minute of it while i was there... and yet i always had to leave. leaving was always at the back of my experience, or my consciousness, thinking: why cant i just stay. i just wanted to stay. to have that be my reality instead of the escape from my reality. and i knew it was that. and i knew that wasn't the way for me to get to the place i wanted to be.

i needed self sufficiency. i needed to be able to feel like i was solely responsible for my happiness or my triumphs or my failures and subsequent lessons learned... that in fact i was not reliant on the whims of another to make or break me.

and it is the human condition as herd animals to care what others think. to be drawn to the closeness of other people, both physically and emotionally. but there is a sense of independence and self reliance that can still be cultivated and nurtured and can be the backbone of your life. and i think maybe this is what makes us strong. that connectedness to the greater self, the gift we are each blessed with but not all of us are willing to give in to. and there is a certain relinquishment of control that goes along with it. that you do not always have to be in control of the moment but that sometimes your job is to just stand there and let it wash over you and appreciate it.

... and my fire has reduced the once damp logs to piles of loosely connected neon orange ash. every now and again the flames surge up, willing themselves to not give up. the last of the water has evaporated leaving a meager remnant of wood ripe for incineration. 

and with that i will retire for the night.

Mornings on the farm

Photos catch up

Mornings on the farm

a love letter

This is a love letter.

Every once in a long long while you meet someone who has a profound impact on you. Sure, everyday people are changing your trajectory in one way or another and you yourself are always changing, shifting, altering... an inimaginiable number of paths your life could travel down.

But sometimes, just sometimes, one person can completely flip your world upside down.

And in this moment, the one that happened a few minutes ago, all of my worlds just collided together with such force that i only wish it could rise souls from the dead. Because Rob, this is for you.

Dear Rob,
I still maintain, whenever i tell the story of my trials and tribulations with college and how i got to be where i am today, i always mention you. I make a point to say that you were the only worthwhile thing to come out of Drexel. You were the only reason I stayed as long as I did. You were the only person who pushed me academically... i mean really pushed me, challenged me, and made me reconsider very little thing about life. This wasnt anything you saved just for me though, you challenged everyone and everything and every idea and concept, every preconceived notion about people, society, and any sort of semblance of normalcy.... you blew it all up.

Your tanacity and love and vision and clearness about life was so apparent. So forceful. You were totally fucked up, but such a powerful force that everyone you met had a reaction to you. Some were so loving and grateful for your brilliance. Some so hateful and cruel.
.
I think i have a few favorite memories of you. One was the first day of sociology 101. All the kids that were enrolled in the class were going for law. And the first day, i remember watching their faces as you went through the books and topics we were going to cover. All of sudden it was real. Real people. real problems. Abuse. Neglect. death. birth. rights and lack there of. and the destruction of our safe little cocoons. I loved it. I'm not sure they all did, but hell, nothing in life is worth doing if it isn't hard.

Maybe that was one of the biggest lessons you taught me. That shit isnt worth it if you arent making a difference. that its not worth it unless its hard. and Fuck, your life was not easy. But i always got the feeling you didnt really mind, because it made you who you were in this way that is completely indescribable and fabulous.

Halloween was on a day i had class with you. Remember? You walked in late. You were always late for class. Your five inch platform leather boots, fishnets and tiny little leather dress, and fabulous wig... were not enough. you waked in, snapped your whip at all the boys in the front row.... and said, "today we talk about gender".

And i was in love.

we became friends after a group project work day. You played regina spektor while we worked... that one song that is just heart wrenching.. you know the one. Samson.

Here I am now. Rob. Why did i just decide to listen to the song? my heart is breaking all over again.  I wish you were still here.... but i also know that you are one of the few people who had lived a thousand lifetimes in this last one, and even though you were so young, you were such an old soul, and people dont get to just be like that. I know you will be back to finish your work. And the only thing i can possibly hope for is that i can somehow be so blessed to meet you again. 

It had not occured to me, i would assume because i am a little thick sometimes (which was why i always loved drinking margaritas with you... my brain was always sore afterwards, a combination of the intense conversation and tequila no doubt), (off topic) that the path i am on now is a direct reflection of all that poking and prodding you did. Listening to a lecture about nutrition today... albeit a little half heartedly... all of a sudden I heard your voice. "This is structural violence. What are the social, political and economic conditions that drive the problem?" WHAT THE HELL ROB! full fucking circle.
You were always right.

I hope I do right by you and do this thing the way it needs to be done.

I miss you. You know that.

With all my heart.
Love,
Dory

A good day

Today is what I would consider a good day. upon waking I took my dog for a nice long walk. (Here I must add that said dog pooped four, count em, FOUR times). We walked down to the new tea place and I picked up some detox tea, which I am always in the market for new blends of.

Came home, made some breakfast, did some work for school and then promptly set to tearing the house apart.

It feels sooooo good to clean the shit out of the house. Rearranging everything and moving things so it's less clutter-y. Mmm. Mm. And I did a million loads of laundry.

Everything that hasn't gotten done in so long around here. Though you know.... There are four of us in this house.... Hint hint wink wink little cleaning gnomes of the world.

Today I turned the corner. I am committed. I am going to change my life the ways I have always been saying I would. Taking a permanent break from sugar and a temporary, cleansing break from alcohol. Now. This may seem silly. Geez dory! You already don't eat gluten and therefore most things don't have gluten in them! However. I have a serious sugar addiction. I have been known to keep chocolate in the freezer and grab a small handful every time I go in the kitchen.

That's not good. Well, not so bad when you work six days a week and really don't spend much time at home, but now that I am home so much more, I go in the kitchen a thousand times a day. No bueno.

So that is going to be a seriously hard task to undertake. The alcohol will be much easier, and it goes along the same vein, cause how much sugar is in alcohol or alcoholic drinks, so yes.

cheers to a new day, a new direction and the impending doom of a cold cold winter. (I am clinking your glass, mine is filled with pineapple juice mixed with a couple tablespoons of apple cider vinegar of course!)

Today I have done some very satisfying things. Today I have done things that made me feel certain ways, lusting after something. Lusting after a life. A lot of which was me lusting after what I have and what I was doing, the actual realization that Today is a beautiful day. It is cold and windy and sunny and all my perennials are inside, my kittens are sleeping snuggled throughout the rooms, the sun streaming in. the most beautiful voices and instruments covering everything with an air of calm and satisfaction and dreams. Today a long while was spent looking though photos, photos of everything. Of life, of the little things, of all that comes together to make a whole. What is a whole you ask? I am not entirely sure. I am not entirely sure it exists. Or maybe everything is whole and we just perceive it not to be.

And now as i sit here at my computer, which is sitting on my mothers desk in a living room with plants by the window, a dog and cat snuggled on the couch together and a mug of homemade chai tea, I realize that this is just perfect. My lust and day dreams are of this picture. This house, these animals, this life, but in ten years. I am seeing my future. The plants hanging, drying from the rafters with a fire in the wood stove. The windows frosted that look out of the fields with our horses lazily grazing in them. Our kitchen filled with eggs and plants and herbs grown from our love and our fingertips.The noises have changed though. In my daydreams of the future there are chickens chuckling, wind blowing through the trees, the crackle of the fire, the birds singing their winter songs. The sounds of an old house breathing.

A I type this there is a swelling in my throat. You know the feeling. The feeling when you think of the someone you love coming up behind you and wrapping their arms around you. When you can feel them, smell them, hear them, but you cant see them unless you close your eyes.

You first feel the swelling in your chest, an overwhelming sensation. like heat swelling and rising up from your depths and it rises up into your throat and fills it, and it feels as if this would be the most lovely way to choke and die.

For me, thinking about my future, about the smells, the noises, the crickets at night, the birds chirping with the first warming of the night sky before dawn, the whistling of the pine trees in the winter, the cracking of leaves as they dry and crunch under feet and hooves. The sticky sweet and smokey smell of the air that is cool and so full of oxygen. The clearness of the mind and the views that seem uninterrupted. The unknown and yet comforting knowledge that there are animals keeping watch over the night, the fox's shrill screech and the owls deep throaty calls reminding us that we are indeed not alone.  

Today I will let this overwhelming feeling fill me and warm me and help to fill these bottles and jars and let the sweetness of this life and how lucky am filter through the funnel and in turn warm your belly when you drink these love(d) cordials.

This is not a "New Chapter"

Long long ago, in a land not too far away, there was a little girl named Dory. She lived with her parents in a big old stone house with white washed walls and a white picket fence around the garden. She spent the first six years of her life living in this house, swinging on the swing and lounging in the garden while her mom worked, not realizing the affect this place would have on the rest of her life.

My dad is a photographer. Capturing every photogenic moment of your own children's lives is quite a task to undertake and he has risen to the occasion every day of our lives thus far. This has given me a fairly picturesque view of my childhood. It seems to me that I spent A LOT of time in the gardens with my mom and A LOT of time watching and helping my dad capture photos of nearly everything. These documented moments show a little family (my sister is six and a half years younger than I and wasn't born until we moved out of the state park) spending a majority of time taking pictures of growing our medicines and our food, teaching others about the magic of plants, and spending time traveling together all while learning new things about places and plants and people. (My dad has always been a connections guy, meeting and befriending people hither and yon, taking their photos and then maintaining those relationships for the future.)

My father was always behind his camera. In fact he still is always behind his camera. And it is not a stretch to see why I now spend my adult years growing, harvesting, cooking, feeding others, and photographing every single step along the way.

It has been a surprising journey for me. And I still have a hard time figuring out why it is so surprising to me that I have finally found my stride. Nutrition and herbalism will make fine bedfellows and will no doubt lend themselves to beautifully documented adventures and explorations through health and the creation of my career.

A leap has been taken! I honestly have a hard time verbalizing how thrilled I am to be at the Institute of Integrative Nutrition moving towards my Health Coach Certification. I have always felt like I was happy and having fun doing whatever it was I was doing, but THIS, this path is taking me to a new place, a place where all of my different lives, my two minds can be at work together instead of creating a divisiveness in my life, having to be hidden from one another. I feel empowered and driven and validated and excited. So so so excited.

After twenty something years in the making, I can take my plants, my foods, and my photographs and weave them all together to make myself a beautiful and fulfilling career.

It is not a "New Chapter" it is not even the next chapter. I think it is more that everything is shifting. What was important the last three years is now in the background, taking a supportive and restorative role and what had been pushed to the side as my dirty little secrets are now able to shine and I can explore and play and create and really let through who i am and what I want to do and where I want to go and how i can make a difference in this world. (hey mom, remember when I lamented and cried and was so torn because politics and horses and whatever else i was trying to do was not satisfying my desire to make a change in the world?)

And here is where I say something silly like.... I am going to keep my blog again, I swear. I know its been a year since my last entry, but blah blah blah. However i am not going to say that at all. I am just going to see what happens.

xoxo

projects in photos.

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holy bologna!

Ok. So. if you go back to a post i made in august.... -dreams are made of these-.... and if you look at the last photo... The glass fronted house with the porch over the water is where we spent last weekend, or rather, two weekends ago? I had no idea i had been coveting this aesthetic before traveling to this place. And let me tell you, it was just as magical of a weekend as the picture would leave you to believe you would have there.

Our two bosom buddies got hitched on the lawn and we were afforded the privileged of staying in the house. our room was beautiful, sparse, and perfect. there are sparkling, gorgeous, love exuding photos from that weekend, and a few priceless videos, which happen to be on h's phone and not in my possession.

But, you can close your eyes and imagine.

GASP! a picture of us!

projects in photos.

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projects

I have been working on yummy things. The first is an esspresso balsamic fig preserve. The second is a bottling of numerous infused liquors. Yum. Although i am not a big drinker, the process and the magic that happens is so fun. Not to mention they are really fun to show off in cocktails!

I made a mint strawberry vodka. A thyme gin, a lemon verbena and coriander gin. A lemon basil vodka and two jalapeno tequilas. One with roasted jalapenos the other with lime. All lightly sweetened.

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