I was twenty.   At Fred Segal, and styling the likes of Michelle Kelly (Pfeifer), Katie Holmes & Penelope Cruz.  My future husband was a recruiter at USC football, his father the head coach.  They were in the midst of recruiting the team that would eventually win a solid handfull of national championships.  There was a player on the team that had phenomenal will. The last time I saw him play he drove in four touchdowns in the fourth quarter with a shattered foot.   He was funny, kinda crazy & would show up on the team plane in a little boyish plaid short-sleeve shirt, a huge Greek afro, red bowling shoes & a red vintage suitcase.  

His family owned a magnificent & beloved restaurant that threw a nightly raucous of love + family that's preserved large in my heart-mind.  There was his charismatic and charming father.  The older brother who was once a USC star himself, & now was just dreamily, meltingly, golden-olive gorgeous.  There was his sister, a supreme ballerina with a topknot, exquisite posture & a smile that reached across each generation in their brood as they danced, in a line, wrist-to-shoulder, wrist-to-shoulder.  There was clapping.  There were plates and dishes, flying into the ground, shattering joy and suprise into unseen corners of the room.  And there was, in the middle of what I'm sure was a giant meal, a simple, divine soup of lemony white rice & spare shredded chicken.

This is not that.  This is that, with the fullness of that night. This is that night + last night. 

Where that once-future husband had the music cranked to eleven, his own meltingly-gorgeous golden-olive skin echoed in a small army of dancing tiny versions of himself.  Where he stood at the counter making pasta to go with the stew while his soulbrotha washed one million dishes while his wife and my mom traded nutrition links and stories about Green Schools, the tropics + plant medicine.  Their children raced up and down the stairs while I lay by the fire, soaking in my favorite kind of chaos, the community meal:  "What is that you are running with? A giant sharp stick?!  You may throw that in the fire."  He didn't, he hid it, his dad found it, and then he threw it in the fire...  "Really, you don't have to wash my dishes, Kev."  "I love it, bring it!!" "Okay." Sigh, throw my hands in the air. {awesome} 

So.  By now you know I'm not a card-carrying recipe gal.  It's straight up wooden spoon + cast iron pot action + a good bit of distraction to get the onions browned just so.  Here's the best I can give you.

Greek God Stew 

1 yellow onion, sliced into moons

2 leek bottoms, rinsed well + sliced

A large handful of scallions, the lot of them, in tiny rounds.  Only the wee hairs discarded.

3 dried bay leaves, plenty of sea salt all sauteed in 1/2 stick of butter.

When it's all near-translucent, add half a roasted heirloom chicken with the saucy gelatinous broth.  Weston-Price-Style, with everything so you get the nutrition in the marrows and stuff.  Let it get nice and brown.  Add 1-2 cups of dry risotto or 4 cups of cooked risotto & cover with water.  Bring to a boil, lower to simmer.  Cook until al dente.  Give the kids a wedge of parmessan to shred tiny + 3 lemons to zest and juice.  Beat 2-3 eggs, add the lemon juice.  When the rice is done, add a ladle full of hot broth to the eggs & lemon juice, beating so it doesn't scramble.  To get it adjusted to the heat.  Do it again.  Drop the whole thing into the stew.  Add some white pepper, adjust the salt & if you're feeling rock star, a smidge of nutmeg.  Serve with the parmesan.  Sit by the flames.  Talk until all the little people pass out from the contentment of community.

Now home, I'm all about the kitchen again. It's been a few months of this happiness.  We'll never return to the decade-long whole foods short-order-cook marathon that burnt me out.  (D's really good at all that, actuallly. While I was gone they ate dinner on time, brushed their teeth, had baths each night & went to school early.  Sounds blissfull, and, there was some bed-wetting, the goats escaped five times & I got a distraught rambling text on the last evening.  In full disclosure.  When I checked in there was no response & I'm told it never happened.  Such kindness on D's part.)

So now I'm cooking for myself & inviting my family into it.   Diverse food made in community makes me deliriously happy, & that always seems like the only rule worth following religously. I never felt good about placing health over culture or making foods bland to keep peace at the table.   They're big enough to be nice about it & prepare something else if they like.  Sometimes we have to call upon our *Angel of Tact, in case they just can't seem to get it together.  The most successful meals at this point are a co-creation, and I'm really savoring the way it's all coming together as we move out of the "young family" into something with a little more partnership.

For instance, the boys began using the pulp from our juicer for pancakes.  They take all of it & dump it into the big electric mixer, with a cup of our Everyday GF Flour Mix & way more eggs than they need.  It feeds them all day.  If there's enough apples & carrots in there, it doesn't need any sweetener.  Just a good pinch of sea salt & lotsa butter for frying.  (Do you fry your pancakes?  I think that's a Pilipino thing. We fry everything that we don't eat raw.)  If I wanted to be fancy I might call these Fried Apple-Carrot Souffles.  Maybe I will now.

Here we juiced green apples, celery, carrots, parsnips & lacinto kale.  After the drink I sauteed garlic, an onion, & mushrooms; added green lentils, water, sea salt & brought all to a boil.  Lowered to a simmer, it begged for the pulp + the little fresh thyme that didn't go black in the last frost.  When it was ready, we covered it in mounds & mounds of shredded havarti cheese.  And declared this the meal for all Wednesdays.  Forever & ever.  Amen.

meditation jars by stacey deal rosa, uo dragon water, herbmother latisha guthrie's plant lava lanterns

Nourishing mama Stacey set off a dazzle fest before I left with these glitter meditation jars for Mia & Isabella, inspired in kind by this article on meditation with the childrens.  We practice an outdoor moving meditation here, in the form of feeding, planting, digging + climbing...what we most need now is some support for the physical bickering that happens between a trifecta of testosterone.

There's so many good tricks, right, all of them working in some instances, not others. We've long-loved the multi-cultural, inter-era Tales from the Dragon's Cave, Peacemaking Stories for Everyone.  It was obvious that our jars were to be filled with Dragon Water, so they might shake their needs & love into the wands, listen for the dragon wisdom & let the cool weight anchor them before they speak. Of course I have to be there...or for this week, while I'm gathering with these ladies, our 100 Year Promise*Keepers & the Amulet team in Seattle, D needs to be there.  The great thing about D is, he's so there.  For our boys.  For me.  For everyone. 

Herbmother took the whole concept up three with these Plant Lava Lamps, floating it all in a wisp of glycerine.  Ridiculous.  I got to hold them all (& her two girls. swoon) the last few days and wow.  They are glorious.  

Marybeth is going to add real flecks of gold + live rose petals in mineral oil.  Waldorfish's Robyn, a sea of tiny pink shells from her Atlantic summer cottage.   Danielle, sand + fairy dust.  Rachel Ballard : Pyrite (pirate!) dust that she crushes from whole crystals to become gold.  Ours: tiny metal beads in 5 tones.  Glittered flocking that sometimes looks like cool moss.  And mostly looks like mud.  We floated it all in a pond of water + dish soap, so nothing clumps or sticks.  Otherwise is looks like slough slime.  Which is gross.  So we did that for awhile.  Because lets face it.  I am the only human girl around here.  The goat-turkey-chicken-kitten-bunny ladies aren't super clean.  Clean.  Schlean.  Life is messy.

Kay.  North. Gathering more of this kind of enough.

3 day sleepover :: Learning, cooking, making & exchanging with my Pacific Northwest Legacy Alumni, Umberdove Kelly Clark,  HerbMother Latisha Guthrie, Madelyn Mulvaney, Marybeth Bonfiglio, Smashing Rubbish Jennette Neilsen, Robyn Rae Johnston, Inhabit Earthways Sarah Stevens, {eye} wonder workshops Eileen Nishi, Merrilee Kennedy, Danielle Cohen, Cosmic American Rachael Rice & Blue Stocking Salon's Jill Pettinger Clifton. Each of these Sister*Keeper mamas has a 100 Year Promise to Earth, their beloveds & themselves. Nothing to do but celebrate.  As family.

warmth whipped up by lisa (wei of chocolate ceo) during a recent sleepover

last days before he's five...staying as close as possible, no matter what today. taken by lake.

I'm never quite sure where to begin.  Rarely in the middle place, I find details mesmerizing (You too, right?  I mean, that's sugar up there, spun into webs that crystallize over time!  And they grow...out of the soil.)  It's paralizing, actually, in the very best way, to sink into the melt.  The thin crunch.  The sticky parts of reality.  The beauty of it all - all of it, all of this life - is highly distracting.

And then.  There is the Whole.

My not-so-secret obsession.  That larger story, the many facets, the diversity of many, the multiplicity of possibilities in the full.  The enthralling potentiality!  How many ways can we feed everyone?  It's a game of paradigms I play.  Spiraling in, spiraling out.  So I guess I'll begin with breakfast. On New Years Day.  At daybreak.

It's only me. Everyday, actually.  In spite of our school rhythms, I still cannot bear to wake them.  I gave D a present last year: he may sleep in, every weekend + holiday for the rest of his life.  He may not need permission that long.  But it's really relevant these days.  Men do deserve to recover from life, yes?  Big ones. Little ones.  I want them to rest like I want them to eat.  

I used to mourn my own sleep. What about the mothers?!!  Complaints are so boring, though.  Now I cherish the quiet.  It's when I chop dates, apples. Put out oats, cinnamon & butter.  It's when I slip out the door.

Fuck. It's cold.  

So here's the nature of my practice :: It takes something.  It's a curiosity tripp.  A daily mystery.  A driven adventure that always ends in an open roof, deep beats blasting, bare feet dancing in some strange soil.  In between, there's miles of Earth in my toes as I hit reset.  Or dust, or hay, or rain or frost.  Depending on the day.  And there's emergent questions, "What's the nature of this threshold?" "What's needed?" "What's there to learn?"  (I'm a what person.  Not so much about why or who or how.  I like to do what there is to do.)  I don't force the intentions or try to make one up. I live in an inquiry.  I savor it, I relish the questions.  This is what it is to be an unschooler.  This is what it is to be a learning activist.  I dance until I can't.  I leave it all there on the ground.  And I leave something for the land.

This morning I pull over, right off the road onto a cracked bit of dirt. And sink.  Two feet.  (Whoa!)  D gave me this car, which I've loved since I was 8 years old, because it's safe for girls with wanderlust who lose themselves in the wilderness.  So I can pull the top down completely & blast beats into space.  So I can four-wheel off-road onto craggy rocks.  Just not...saturated farmland in January.  Within about twenty seconds, the wheels are covered in 2 inches of mud.  Holy shit. I'm stuck.  

So now I'm inquiring with my guides...{hmmmm? really? this is what this year is about for me?  wow}

Followed by...Wow!  That's tight.  I mean, really, really beautiful.  The canyon I've created.  The dirt on metal. I let visual beauty be the only reality that matters for second, another reset button.  I guess it's time to walk.

Removing my shoes, I look to the nearest farm, a mile off.  There it is.

I consider the danger of not having a phone out in the country.  It's ironic, given that I gave up the noise of my iPhone to enjoy my urban homestead.  Ever the city-girl, I run thru a couple of safety scenarios, ask for protection and anticipate a breakthrough. 

I remember the apple seed beds I left on the counter.  Many pointed, mysterious, not for anyone in particular, On Purpose without the need for an observer, they are there to be discovered.  I wonder what seeds are being sown as I hike the gravel, now sharp and icy underfoot.  I wonder what's being broken up, how the arc of my faith is expanding.  I wonder about my capacity for the cold wind in my ears.

Two guard dogs start way in advance of my arrival.  They're tough, fast & big. I remember that I was raised with wolves as pets. Sometimes I forget.  I have to remind myself to remind them. 

Apparently I'm on Buckley Road, on Buckley Ranch, visiting with Larry Buckley, the fourth generation proprietor who owns everything I can see.  Because I get to midwife so many initiatives and think symbolically, I'm a little stoked to make his acquaintance on the first day of this epic year.  Experience has shown me that he represents many, many others who'll come forward, eager to support.  We make fast friends as he realizes I'm out there praying on his land.  I discover he's a proud Native brother with 10,000 more acres on the mountain to the right, and a rig that saves everyone who's silly enough to pull off the road in January.  Of course.

Legit.

Saved.

I realize that we're never stuck if we're willing to walk a mile in the cold to make a friend and a request.  There's so much help to be asked for, there's so many beautiful projects that need support. We always have choice.  I  have to walk anyway, either for my practice or because my home is a mere 14 miles over.  Of course, I would have put my shoes back on.  Regardless, we can always draw the circle of our family larger to include who's in front of us.  

A grand host, Larry is already ready to be generous.  He's a physical expectation of good work needing to be done.  It takes about twenty seconds to pull out my Jeep. D gave me this ride so I'd be safe in my adventures.  I'm reminded that men are the reason this world is safe.  It's their commitment, their honor, to protect & provide shelter.  They all express it differently and I'm fully grateful for who they are about it.

There's so many miracles on this path.

As I sit in the wet soil & breathe in the green, the sunrise, my heart is sated.  My mind is empty.

Fuck.  It's cold.

At home they've been cooking.  Improvising.  Licking the pieces.  Feeding each other brother.  Creating sweetness.  I know it takes something for them too.  It doesn't always work out, so we slow down and commit to the sweetness.  It's a practice.

I know you're working yours. 

Our beloveds are radly inspiring that way. 

{waves + waves of }

love, Maya

Image by Galia Alena

*A single magical package* of handmade soap, meditation beads & a secret sumthin' special from yours truly will go to the winner of the last seat in BlueStocking Salon's Bones of Wisdom Course, starting tomorrow. Join my Legacy Sistren, Jill Pettinger Clifton, Claire Beaumont, Monica Mungary, Kristina Wingeier, Lisa Hofmann & Galia Alena for a communal excavation into knowing. We've spent the last four months together, & assure you a meaningful journey. These ladies bring the experience that only comes from Act II, III & IV. No newbies in this team of Beacons.♥ Head over to the salon & tell me here what you see for yourself. We'll pick the winner tonight!

 

                                                                                                           by Erin Faith Allen

I'm lucky to live in an area with lots of good country drives, perfect for chatting with Maddie.  Somehow, she's in Vancouver, British Colombia and I'm traversing the hills to Napa, California, but no matter. When we're together we're together.  

You know those tribe members that have been with you before?   Who's words & images hit you as soul-immediate, a balm for what you didn't know you needed? She and I have no idea who found each other first. But I know for certain that the first time I spotted her Persisting Stars e-course I began a list:  Anthropologie for my Heart.

madelyn, roadtrippin' thru oregon's layered sky. also w/ tish at herbmother.com

To go with the windy roads and big sky, there's favorite conversational threads, like bright comfort food, making small movies, capturing the first glimpse of wind with our words, and that kinda thing.  There's some passing threads, about the weather of our beloveds, and the current temperature of our creative landsapes.  And then a few mysterious, repetitive threads, like...Erin Faith Allen.

Madelyn and I both have deep, cell-melting wanderlust.  It's a current that yearns and nudges; a need to head out in search of a surprisingly verdant hill or soft, unspoken and endangered vignette of Earth-stuff looking for just the right editor.  

Each time we hit the travel thread, and more specifically, sacred travel, Erin's name danced into our conversation.  She kept dancing from Spring 'till late August, and not just with Maddie, but whispered at tables, brought up over meetings and coffees with so many friends.  Women were gathering, around the world, fusing art with Spirit, on sacred lands.  My curiosity took over and when I got on the phone with England I fell fast + furious for her love of all things wild + feminine.  Erin's joy spills out over the ocean & she somehow captures shadows and danger in scrawling flats of pastel and starburst; a vibrant stand for effusive self-expression.  Erin's channeling a profound and needed movement: awakening our Creatrice, aligning us with Earth's creative force. What's come are plans for my dream vacation, including this...oh, I'm so excited about this, her gift to those of us with wild hearts...

Glastonbury … also known as the Isle of Avalon … also known as the Heart Chakra of our planet.  The energy of Glastonbury is pure alchemy.  You arrive, you become enveloped in pure soul magic, you leave a new person with new layers of yourself revealed.  That’s what this retreat is all about:  marinating in hardcore earth magic, and unleashing new facets of your divine womanhood in land which has been a place of pilgrimage for thousands of years.

Glastonbury is layered with myths and legends: Glastonbury Tor, Wearyall Hill, the Abbey, the healing waters of the Chalice Well, the Holy Grail and King Arthur, Saint / Archangel Michael, Joseph of Arimathea, Jesus Christ, Mary Magdalene and other saints and luminaries.

Join Madelyn Mulvaney, Maya Corinne and Erin Faith Allen for this epic three days of exploring feminine mythologies within while anchoring into the power of one of the most potent energy vortexes on our beautiful planet.  You don’t want to miss this!

Over three days you will spend one day with each of our teachers. Your days will be split between time in workshop space, and time exploring the mythical and lore-soaked landscape with your tribe of wild women.

Sacred Love ~ ‘Building Tabernacles’:  Igniting / unearthing our relationship with self-love through three altars:  Past (release), Present (sensual / spiritual / emotional presence of self-love, and Future (magic, rapture of intention flowing from a well spring of self-love in all it’s beautiful imperfections which make us startling and unique). 

Sun Printing / Cyanotype:  Using sacred elements from nature found on a walk in Glastonbury, along with elements brought to the retreat (personal elements such as feathers, pods, negatives, words, poems) we will celebrate our connection to Mother Earth in a gorgeous, simple cyanotype print which can be created rain or shine. 

‘My Sweet Muse’:  Using a camera (digital or phone) we will explore our offering to the Spiritual enlightenment of the world ~ how we can touch the lives of others and make an everlasting difference connecting with our holyest inner Goddess and sharing her with a soulFUL self portrait.

Madelyn is writer, photographer and the creator of the Persisting Stars photography ecourses. Her photography is represented by Getty images and her writing has been featured in publications around the world. She lives in a house by the sea with her luminous daughter Tess, effervescent son Noah and two beloved dogs, Roxy and Romeo.  She is currently writing her book ‘My Sweet Muse ~ awakening your inner artist with morning coffee and a whole lot of soul.’ www.madelynmulvaney.com

We’ll walk the grounds in a Balinese meditation state in search of the sentient & elemental beings that frolic in the fringe of Avalon.  Once we find your Guidess, the one who is also looking for you, we’ll glean her gifts ~ the principle anchors & storyline she is holding for your vision.   You know, the one that’s always been there.  The Guidess helps you hone in on your personal anchors: truths, principles & concepts that feed your “big picture.”  She is an ally for that secret timetable, because she knows the truth…it is your heart’s delight, your scary what-if, and more than that, it is your gift to the Whole.  She knows it’s bigger than you, that you are Earth’s daughter, and so your offerings are always, always in right time and rhythm.  Indeed, we can never be behind.  She brings her wispy magic to support your larger contribution.

I’ll teach you the basics of fashion illustration and textile sculpture to bring your Guidess to life with a modern couture frock of natural fibers I’ve dyed in my garden, a shiny woolen mane, wings for flight and just maybe, a crescent moon crown.  We’ll dabble with metallic paints, fibers & wires to make sure she feels adorned, delighted & On Purpose to hold your best truths. 

Maya: Since childhood I’ve lived dreams of Avalon, surrounding myself with holy waters, knowing soil and whispering elemental beings. My home is an oasis of practical ceremony for my family, Earth & animals in a town very much a bubble of conscious community. Those of the Avalonian lineage have always managed to find me on my travels, and I’m ecstatic to join you on the sacred grounds, knowing we were long meant to be together. Again. I’ll bring fabrics from 15 years as fashion stylist to A-list celebrities, my toolkit as Legacy Architect, open heart, open mind and open eyes.  www.urbanorganica.com

 Thousands of years ago, Woman was equal.  She was respected and seen in all her strengths as mother, daughter, sister, leader, priestess, goddess, grandmother.  Wild, full, empowered, wise, and free, she was also intuitive comforter, life-giver, cohort to the male god worshipped in every corner of the world.  Women were taught to see themselves in the image of any number of ancient archetypal representations of powerful deities, and she was one half of a whole that lived in balance.   Then the patriarchy came, and life for women began a long descent into darkness and inequality.  Things are beginning to look up … the Big Wild She is rising again.

We will dive inward to the space in which we have repressed our inner deity; with mixed media collage and the collaboration of the powerful energy that lingers in the holy hills of Avalon we will unleash our Big Wild She. Through intention and artmaking ritual we will access our layers of forgotten power and vow to intimately know and nurture these vital aspects of our womanhood.

We will spend our morning exploring a mythical and ancient site in Glastonbury, and return to the studio after lunch to create a mixed media collage self-portrait that reflects our experience in the landscape and the new revelations of the Big Wild She that we, as 21st century women, still are.

Erin: An artist and empath, Erin experiences the world on a supernatural level.  She makes art to understand herself and the planet she lives on.  Feeling the strong and undeniable presence of universal woman-ness, she actively conjures feminine story through words and pictures. Her work conveys the delicate dance between light and shadow, and she believes we must know our depths to know our heights: we must howl in wild stark exposure at the moon in order to know true bliss in the glow of sun.  Erin’s art has been featured in numerous publications, and hangs on walls around the world.  www.erinfaithallen.com

Join us in Glastonbury, England for three days of sacred and empowered creative exploring:  July 4-7, 2013.

This retreat is specifically designed for women seeking:

• A deeper relationship with empowered self~love
• Access to your soul’s highest knowledge whilst engaging with Mama Nature
• Dialogue with your spiritual lineage through creativity

Is this your tribe?  Sweet.  Me too.  Let's play.  xo, Maya 

*I come from generations of healers, and those with crystal clear intuitive vision.  I am so not my family's healer.  Luckily D's healing powers are effortless, genius, on spot & on time.  So the truth is...the kids never go to me for first aid.  Never, ever, ever.  Because I have an impatient bedside manner with neediness.  I am only able to take pictures of them when they are ill.  Because I am in love with them.    I tuck them in.  Run a gorgeous herbal bath.  But let's be honest.  They can't smell it.  I am merely nursing aesthetics.   Soulstorm's Laura Emily is going to show me how to create balms, baths, and bubble some brews.  And...I might not ever apply it to my beloveds.  It's like having a mom who's a really good cook.  I did, so never made a meal until I left home.  

•+•+•

Poppy and Molly love real life.  Poppy wants me to share the mess of my big cabin with you all: blaring hip-hop, spontaneous dinner parties with dirty dishes for twenty...kids flying dangerously out of the hammock.  Molly pronounced "Real Life!!" the very first time she walked in my door, and I think every time since.  

Hmmm.  I can't stand pretend confessions that just skim the surface, but, I'm really actually quite private & very aware that my own musings are never just my own, but those of my beloveds.  Actually, the scariest admissions are those of goodness, support, vitality.  

And...I think it's important to share the fuller picture.  There's a constant perception that there's a right way to do things and it's just not true.  In my intensives, I always keep the videos homemade, low-key and non-pro because it models ease, play and casual sharing for my ladies.   I tell them that all homework from me should be knocked out in ten minutes.  Yes, even the 100 Year Vision.  Their Sacred Current.  Their 20 Year Games. It's important to just play and not worry about it.  Once they let go of their fear of doing it wrong, they can actually start.  In ten minutes, the basic architecture is in place.  Then they can spend a week sussing it out and making them beautiful.  In my world, the way to do it right is to just be willing to do it wrong.  Everything comes out stronger from the learning.  And that's where the magic happens.

At every level that I work, folks are paralyzed ~ for years.  For decades.  Over the fear that they aren't on hit.  New mamas and experienced papas alike know that "restaurant-tension:" the kids might freak out, requiring them to parent publicly (gasp!!).  Moneyed folks are scared to blow the dough.   Newly minted Ivy-Leaguers are distraught over choices, so they just get the next degree, then the doctorate, then the double-intensive specialty.  Athletes, artists and actresses alike are terrified to show up less than the brightest, biggest, boldest version of themselves.  Community leaders and activists cave to their understanding of diplomatic etiquette.  No, I'm not referring to the inspired and talented.  I'm referring to the talented and afraid.  We all do it.  It's a cultural phenomena that truly keeps us safe.  It's fascinating! 

And that's why this is a once-and-forever unschooling blog.  For every question asked,  free-range learners think there's at least twelve answers.   Who knows if any of them work until we experiment a little?  So many, many answers are long-term discoveries I still am in the middle of. That's the real life part.  The messy, imperfect part.  The scarily blessed part.  

So...as often as I remember to, I'll look around and see if i can't share some more little admissions...

real life. by thea coughlin

*I cook maybe a couple of times a week.  {D wanted to be the full-time parent last year, so he cooks.}  After years of cooking three organic meals a day for a vegetarian, a red-meat + greens diet, & sometimes gluten-free, sometimes casein-free, always sugar-free crew, (it literally is impossible to break that down in a sentence, let alone daily rhythm) I burnt out & possibly misplaced my cooking mind forever.   It was lost over gluten-free gnocci.  The sticky goo was not behaving correctly, sticking to my hands like peanut butter.  Not a soft, smooth dough that's powdery on the skin.  Instead of dropping fluffy oval clouds into the broth, I was flinging muck into it.  I turned around & flung it all against the wall, covered in family photos.  And took a really, really long walk.  That was three years ago.  It's never been the same around here.

*I've always had help caring for my home from my girlfriend Margarita & her older children, Yohanna & Miguel.  We clean together as families, with our little ones all about.  Sometimes we were pregnant, sometimes we had a newborn on the couch while we all shared a meal.  It was needed for the 9 1/2 years I was recovering, and it is certainly a luxury now.  As are the nannies and assistants who have traveled with us, who became real sisters and brothers to my brood.  I am not an elf without elves.  I can do so much because I have help.  I don't do it on my own & couldn't do it on my own.  Illness taught me that.  Some people can & I so admire that.  And I really mean it when I say I am a servant, a function, and a product of community.  This feels healthy and right to me.

*I leave my family for extended periods of time for work.  Next year I'm traveling at least 8 days each of all twelve months to teach, speak and style in my dream locations, at world-class spas and retreats.  Paris, Lyons, Barcelona, Glastonbury, Sedona, Seattle, New Hampshire, Outer Banks, Madrid, Big Sur are all booked, paid for, ready for me.  In 2014 you'll find me in Asia and the South Pacific.  I waited until each boy was nearly four before I left him.  And now I go.  My heart is wild, I relish my creative freedom, it takes massive partnership with D, my parents, other village members...sometimes I have to juggle this out in my head, and seemingly go backwards sometimes...like occasionally nursing my otherwise super-independent four year-old.  (I guess, for some folks that's it's own admission.  My people have always nursed their children.)  I follow my instincts for what my family needs and what I need.  They know the folks I serve & they feel like they're serving them, too.  I read my three boys every single love letter and make sure they handle every thank you gift that comes as their own.   It took me years to let myself believe it really is okay to travel the world with - or without - my family.  I believe my children need me to model personal philanthropy + creative bliss as guilt-free + shame-free.  So I'm not always here.  I am gone.  Gone like the wind.

But not now.  Right now I'm in front of my fireplace. It's 6:29 am.  My kitten, who is not supposed to be in the house, is running up and down the stairs.  Lake, my newly 7 year-old, is wrapped in a quilt with long curls spilling onto my lap.  And I am here.  Just me.  Free.

much love.  true love.  maya