It’s funny to me how sometimes a blank page can cause my heart to race. How the absence of palpable words can feel like limbo — Dante’s laughter reverberating off the walls at how ridiculous it is to package my feelings and emotions up in a pretty package and display them.
But as I mentioned in my last post, this journey isn’t about perfection. And the last few days have been anything but perfect. They’ve been real and bold and uncomfortable and magical and affirming and joyous.
They’ve been as dirty as my hands from an hour in the soil.
As dirty as Olive’s paws trekking through the forest.
And I can’t wait to share the mess with you. //
Bri and I traveled through the trees and made our way from Pacifica, CA to Portland, OR entertaining ourselves with podcasts, music, talk of dreams and sounds of snores. We adventured through Portland, hitting up all of our favorite spots and indulging in the moss and ivy that seems to spread through the town like a messenger carrying long sought-after wisdom.
As we entered WA, I noticed my body relax. Being surrounded by the massive trees and lakes reminded me of where I find solace in life. That cliche but ever true feeling that there is so much that is bigger than us and basking in that knowledge feels like coming home.//
When we arrived at the farm, I spent the rest of the day choking back tears.
It could’ve been the tiredness of traveling for several days, the fact that we were finally at a place that we didn’t need to move from anytime soon, or the reality that we had our own space.
But it didn’t feel like that at first.
I was scared. Doubtful. Anxious.
Thoughts like, “why do you think you’re capable of helping on a farm?” ran back and forth between my mind, passing off the relay baton, picking up where the other thought left off.
My adolescent screamed that this wasn’t I imagined it would be. That I wasn’t capable of anything: of seeing the beauty, of settling in, of quieting my mind, of remaining who I am.
And yet I knew something had pulled me here. Something true. Something deep. Something aligned with my values.
If I’m honest, I’m still processing. Every day (and we’ve only been here 4 days), I learn something new. I dig a little deeper. I find a little more patience. I see the future a little clearer. I’ve started to untangle the negative ego’s fodder from my truth like the thickets of the blackberry bushes that sit outside of our house. And in a lot of ways, it feels like meeting myself for the first time. A new me. An adult version. And she’s so, so lovely.//
What I’ve already fallen in love with is the way that life lives here. We are surrounded by trees and plants and bushes and weeds and they thrive every. single. second.
What was a bud yesterday has three leaves today. Where there was dirt, there is a new patch of grass. We are quite literally watching the birth of Spring and it’s one of the most grounding experiences of my life.//
Yesterday was magical. Brian and I heard about a lake nearby from our friend on the land. A resort sits nestled next to it called the Lady of the Lake, getting its name from an old legend of a lovely woman who’s Ford crashed through the ice in the 1930’s leaving her to drown along with her lover. She now haunts the lake when the mist sits just right and the moon hangs in the sky.
After lunch, we found a nearby trail and walked through it hand in hand, losing Olive to moss covered branches upon branches upon branches. We talked about our future children, our future plans and I felt so, innately grateful to have someone as loving and strong holding the line for me, creating space and loving me in whichever form I show up in that day.//
I asked for a sign. I found myself closing my eyes and communicating. A sign that I’m on the right journey. A sign I am where exactly where I’m meant to be. Reaching out to my guardians for some wisdom. The moment passed as quickly as it started and I soon forgot that I had asked.//
Later that evening, I met Bri outside our house with gardening shears. He had created a path from our house through the blackberry bushes to a little spot where we will plant our garden. Together, we cleared out dead branches and carved a path complete with archways of blackberry bushes. We talked about planting wildflowers here — a complete magic garden walkway of 8’ tall blackberry bushes + wildflowers blooming throughout. We talked about my Grandma and playing in her garden as a kid, eating tomatoes from there and how rewarding it is to nurture things, creating a farm to table experience and I found myself so incredibly giddy. With every snip of the shear, I laughed louder. //
Bri yelled to me from down the path and told me to look up. Above our heads flew a bald eagle, slowly passing over, gliding from left to right.
I asked for a sign.//