Category: Musings

Mi Corazon de Alegria, my heart of joy, is what I have named my new butterfly dragon.  How I meandered into this name is a fascinating mind journey for me.

My tattoo artist, Matt Hodel of Ragtime Tattoo, asked me after he had finished what I would name her.  At the time I didn’t know, partly because I was so stunned by the fact that I had actually done it.  I had somehow, someway breathed through the pain to have this amazing piece of work permanently placed upon my body.  My arm was throbbing and my head was reeling.

On the way home with Kateri I thought of words like love, joy, peace, transformation, power, all of the things I daily play with focusing my energy and intent upon. I bounced a couple of ideas off of her and settled on nothing.  I kept coming back to the word Joy but it didn’t feel quite finished those first few hours.  Plus I kept coming back to this stunned realization that I actually did it.  Wild!

For hours I though of what this tattoo means for me.  I’ve thought of getting a tattoo, much smaller than this one, off and on for a long time.  No image ever grabbed me enough to fathom saying yes to the painful process of getting a tattoo.  Oh friends who have tattoos have said “It’s not that bad. More of an irritation than real pain. You can do it.” I never quite believed me them enough to say “Yes, I AM doing this!”

Until the week I walked with Russell in cuckoo luckoo land on his last earthly journey.  During that week I stepped into my core power and love in a way I never imagined that I could.  In the midst of the confusion and pain,  I felt myself both a butterfly bursting out of its’ cocoon and a dragon powerful enough to fly and protect her loved ones.

With the amazing, creative play of my brother, Jeremy, the thought of a butterfly dragon was born.  An image worthy of tattooing permanently upon my body, symbolizing for me the power of the journey I find myself walking in this time and in this moment.  I have pictures of the first, wonderful butterfly dragon Jeremy found for me. I have shirts that I love.  I have another butterfly dragon hanging from my bedroom window.  I love, love the symbolism of mythical creature meets transformational reality.

So I did it, I actually walked into an experience I knew would be physically painful.  And it was. Seriously I almost passed out at one point and could have punched Matt a few times.  The process was also a way for me to live my journey in a new way.  I just kept thinking I’ve made it this far in cuckoo luckoo land and experience more pain in my heart daily.  I can and I will survive this temporary pain to have a tattoo that forever shows me my strength and my hope.

Finally after hours thinking of names I came to the thought of my heart of joy.  Turning it into a Spanish name was a fun connection to Russell and one of my favorite stories of US.  On our honeymoon in Puerto Vallarta we spent everyday on the beach, drinking lots of beer, sleeping, reading, talking and not really eating a ton.  There were beach vendors who would walk around selling various items, our favorites being mini corn muffins and bbq shrimp on a stick for me.  One of the days, the shrimp vendor ran out just as he got to us.  Russell went into full, dramatic Russell mode saying “Oh, mi corazon, mi Corazon esta lleno de tristeza.” “Oh, my heart, my heart is filled with sorrow.”  I could barely stop laughing at the utter seriousness with which he spoke to this guy.  It got me my shrimp, brought back to me by the vendor laughing with us in joy at Russell’s dramatics. Throughout the years Russell would tell this story or just randomly starting speaking about mi Corazon.  Always, always got me laughing.

So my tattoo, my forever symbol that I can handle the pain to get to something of beauty, my daily reminder to myself that I can transform my sadness into joy, my butterfly dragon who makes me smile, will be called Mi Corazon de Alegria.  She is my link to Russell and another physical step into the new me I am becoming. She is my love, my power, my hope that I will one day walk with great joy again.

She is my Heart of Joy.

This was my final lesson as I was leaving Asheville.

During my drive to the airport, leaving Asheville which I fell in love with, the tears started to flow. Not sadness at leaving but the most powerful filling of my heart with light and love – a powerful, resonating YES flowing through me.  I almost had to pull off of the road the tears just poured forth so strongly.  I laughed at the bubbling love filling my entire being.

Yes I am where I am supposed to be.

Yes I am on the right path.

Yes part of my journey, a large part this year, is writing towards my first book.

Yes I have found the title of my book and the mission of Avalon Sanctuary which will be formed during this year – Dancing in the Center Between Light and Dark: A Journey in and out of Cuckoo Luckoo Land into LOVE.

Wow, wow, WOW! Love, joy, gratitude, power flowing in and through and all around me.

This time, this moment, YES!

Written in my journal the last morning I was at Epona Ridge, I am just now feeling compelled to include in my blog.  Much is a stirring again and arising in me to take voice.

Woke up rested but unsettled, aching and sorrowful.  With much of my being I don’t want to leave here.  In this sacred place I feel like I can walk in my truth crying, laughing, talking, being silent, all of it as I need to in every moment and every time.  I feel like I could stay here for months and find my way to healing and clarity so much better.

I cried in the shower speaking my fear, confusion and resistance. Breathed through my tears I then flipped/transformed my grieving into my growing belief that I can provide the self care I need most right now.

Yesterday was a full day.  I loved hearing others’ business hopes and dreams, all shared with energy, passion and joy.  I felt ready when it was my turn to speak.  I had notes. I thought I had a clear understanding of what I wanted to work on during this year of learning.  But, as I started to speak, it all seemed to drain out of my head.  Words fumbled; I felt wobbly; chest tightened with a heavy heart.  All I could think of was the pressure of being the only provider, the pressure of running a farm that doesn’t feed my soul in the running of it right now, the feeling that as clear as some dreamings may be I am not strong enough or ready enough to step onto new business paths no matter how much I want it to be so.  I’m not ready to get particular about my business plans. There’s too much rambling in my heart and my head.

And then it lit up inside of me – My self care must come first!  That’s been the message from the horses and other creatures at Epona Ridge this whole retreat.  “Don’t worry about what you need to ‘learn’. What is it you need to do to care for yourself.  Really, completely, deeply care for yourself. We will love you (and others will too) as you learn to just BE.  When you are ready you WILL dance between the dark and the light.  And then, only then, will others be able to join in your dance. For now, simply stand in the center, sway to the rhythm of our breath. The beginning of every dance is feeling the music all the way into your bones.”

Ah YES, this wisdom is what I most need to carry forward with me in this time and in this moment.  Not what products I might create, or what book I could write, or what program I can bring to others.  Stand barefoot in the love pulsing all around me and take care of myself (and my children).  Only then can I someday connect and eventually engage with others.  Stand in the LOVE!

As much as I long to share my wisdom with others and offer opportunities for heart connection with the horses, the land and all of nature, I MUST take care of myself and my kids, for as long as we need it.  No matter how much I want to get back to a sense of being able to function and work in the world, our self care radically comes first.  How that will play out I’m not quite seeing just yet.  I envision some of the following as areas of intention to play with in my/our care:

*Cleaning and decluttering our house, perhaps with outside help

*Cleansing and setting intentions in our house

*Dreaming, discussing and seeking what we each most need right now

*Cleansing and setting intentions at Avalon

*Dancing

*Drumming

*Singing bowl learning

*Care for Walter and supporting Kateri

*Grief family support group

*Fun classes in essential oils, healing crystals, homeopathy, reiki, aikido, cranio sacral

*Writing a lot more

*Ask lots of questions

These things are what make my heart say YES. These are the most authentic areas of focus to my journey right now. This is where I set my intentions.

In this time and in this moment I embrace the abundant, loving gift of time and freedom to heal.  I embrace my chance to start anew and awaken to a new understanding of who I am and who I can be. This year and this journey will be one of the most profound years of my entire life.

*Reading

I write this morning from a place of groundedness, peace, breathing deeply and quiet joy.  My mind is clear, my body feels light and I feel as if a fog is lifting.  Watching the fog lift off the mountain tops from the vantage point of Epona Ridge where I am retreating is a great joy to me.  I feel as if my feet are stepping onto a new path and I walk forward with hope and confidence that I am exactly where I need to be right now.

My journey here so far has been nothing but amazing.  To allow myself the gift of stepping fully into each moment, feeling all that comes up in that moment, is filling me with such hopefulness that I can learn to dance again with both the dark and the light.  There is such a sense of wellness and rightness that is flowing all around me and through me that I can almost watch myself dance a little bit more with each activity we do.  More and more I am feeling the energy of the earth, the sky, the horses, everything around me thrum through my being like the deep, bass beat of a drum.  I feel the pulsing all around inviting me into this paradoxical dance between grieving and rejoicing, darkness and light, sorrow and joy.  It is a powerful, powerful invitation.

It would be hard to fully explain all that we have been doing in these last few days. And as I write I realize I don’t need to explain it all.  The activities aren’t really the important thing; the wisdom that comes from them is.

First horse lesson in our meet and greet time was with Cierba, a lovely bay mare.  As soon as I went over to stand in front of her the tears started to roll down my face, just pouring out of me.  I was stunned as I had entered into this activity with joy to be meeting the horses of Epona Ridge.  But looking into her eyes the tears just poured out of me.  As I cried, her breath became more noticeable and her mouth was slowly moving.  The message clearly coming from her was “I will breathe into this sacred space for you right now.  Release, let it go, cry.  I will be your breathe as others can do for you in your time of need.”  My heart filled with gratitude and love for her.

During this time with Cierba I felt a pull on my pocket, lightly at first then stronger when I didn’t pay attention.  I turned to see the little paint mini, Bodhi, tugging at me clearing saying “come on pay attention to me now. Let’s play.” Laughter bubbled up and out of me as he chewed my journal, pulled on my shorts, almost giggling himself.  Cierba pulled my attention back to her briefly as she grabbed my pen. I think she just wanted me to say goodbye before I focused on Bodhi.  As I moved around the space to say hi to the other two horses, Magic and Zorro, Bodhi kept following me, pulling at me anytime I got too serious.

The message I took out of this first day from the horses and the amazing women gathered with me here was that I don’t need to tell my whole story, to bring my whole self to this time and this moment.  They simply want me to be in the moment, live and breathe and let it all go.  Cry and laugh and listen and speak and just be in it all.

Day 2 was a most powerful day with the horses for me.  Settling into just being and not trying to plan how I could bring my learnings into doing at Avalon was a conscious intention all day.  I listened to the worry I have, my vulnerabilities, my ticker tapes of negativity and honored that they are part of my story.  Then, before entering the space with the horses I began the flipping of this into thinking of all as opportunity to experience new things.  I am being given opportunities to learn new things, to open myself up, to align myself with the core being and the Source of all that is.  I can be right here and right now in this time and this moment and just Be Me.

Zorro was my teacher in learning about sensing energy levels and finding a mutually healthy place of respect and awareness. We practiced moving forward, holding our center and stepping back to find just the sweet spot of awareness.   As Zorro moved forward to engage and greet me I felt his openness to learn with me.  His nonverbal communication enable me to find just the spot near him that I could be what I needed to be in that moment.  If I was too far away from him (about 3 feet away) I felt myself disconnect with myself and him. If I got too close to him, wanting to lean into for support he would first lick my hand then nip as if to safe “nope that’s too close.” As I rocked back into a space about 1 1/2 feet from him, I felt him say “Yes” as the tears started to flow again.  I felt deep into my core all of the sorrow, confusion, grieving, and loneliness of this time.  In this sweet spot of respect and awareness with Zorro he relaxed his entire body, with eyes half closed, ears cocked slightly forward to listen to me, and let me be in my deep , persistent tears.

From this time with Zorro I took away the following messages:

*Horses are calling me back to my core center to honor whatever I need to honor in each moment.

*Connection with another isn’t always about being close enough to touch.  Sometimes we need a little more space between us and another to truly connect.

*Whatever I need to do right now is 100% okay.

In the afternoon of the second day I chose to play with Bodhi, as I felt like part of me needed to add some play to my journey that day.  My reflective question that I brought to my time with Bodhi was: “What do I need to know to be able to dance in the center space between the dark and light of my life?”   This was a lighter session with a lot of laughter in the midst of the tears.  I scratched Bodhi all over and took turns with him leading us in play around the arena.  I whistled and cried and laughed and talked with him and listened to the wisdom in his joyful little self.  After some playful “follow me, no you follow me” time and lots of chest scratching, Bodhi wandered over to Barbara for awhile and seemed to try and get her to come play with us.  I simply watched him for awhile vocalizing to Barbara what I was sensing from him and messages I was hearing.  Then, I went up to him and scratched his forehead one more time.  Instead of nibbling at me he dropped his forehead onto mine and just breathed into me.  I felt our hearts connect and love surround us until we both decided we were done.  Joy!

With Bodhi I took away the following learnings:

*Self-care always comes first. If you have an itch take care of it before anything else.

*Playing can be done with laughter and with tears.  The whole point is to play.

*Don’t have to be engaged with someone all of the time.

*I don’t have to do it all.

*You need others to play with you at this time in  your journey. And you need wise mentors to guide your way. (Thank you Barbara and my fellow journeyers for walking with me right now.)

*Watching can be just as much fun as doing sometimes.

*Just breathe the love in and out and do all with joy.

So, so much more has happened in the last day and a half. Lots more learnings and openings to myself.  For now, I find that the wisdom of these wise, horse leaders needs to stand on its’ own.  I know I will write again of the other reflections, my experiences with the wise women gathered here, the visitation by a hummingbird this morning and much more.  But in this time, in this moment, the horses are the wisest teachers I know.  I am filled with gratitude and love for all they are sharing with me.

I’m going to let you all in on a little secret.  I don’t really have my self all together.  In fact, in many ways I am barely all together.  Oh I am learning how to put on some kind of “got it together” face but it’s mainly just a face and a hope and a daily strengthening towards having it all together.  But honestly, much of it is based more on hope and sheer will than actual reality right now.

Daily I get up, make my lists, look over my overall goal/to-do list, get dressed, and try to do something. Many days I am trying to work in someway. Well, I guess I am working in someways, but wow, is it all hard, event the littlest of things.  I do my best to focus on what is good in my life and see the lighter side of things. I do my best to help myself and my kids find the ways we are stronger and more capable each day.  I do my best to try a little bit harder to simply walk through my day in a balanced way.  I do my best to believe that everything is going to be okay.

And everyday I know that much of what I am doing all day long is convince myself these things are true.  All day I try to act in the way I hope to live again. I try to pick up the pieces of my life and attempt to live it with strength and confidence again.  I try to let the events of the day flow over and around me without getting sucked into a quagmire of despair.  I try to focus on positivity and possibility and the abundance ever present in my life.  Some days I think I get it right, other days not so much.

I simply, shhh it’s a secret remember, am trying not to make it all so noticeable now.  I know that it could still be months and months before the littlest of things don’t set me (or the kids) spinning.  I know that it really hasn’t been that long since our worlds turned upside down, especially in light of the fact that I spent almost half my life with Russell.  It’s just not been that long, though it feels like forever.  But I do think, that for many folks, it is naturally fading from being something that is an everyday, every moment journey.  Oh, I am 100% sure that many still grieve Russell’s death.  It’s not that I think others have forgotten.  But it’s not daily memories or happenings that overlay others’ lives as it does mine.  And that overlay is what can come floating up out of nowhere for me, like fog rolling in at morning light.  You can see the light, you know it’s there, but it’s so foggy only glimpses can really be seen.  You latch onto the glimpses as hope that the sun will soon shine brighter than the fog. But the reality is the fog is always there making the way forward a little more confusing.

How this plays out for me, this trying to not have my fogginess be so predominant or noticeable, is I set goals for working, for playing, for meditating, for conversing everyday.  Simple farm work that I can do at my own pace with or without others is the best and easiest to do.  Planning, teaching, scheduling, are much more challenging. I am doing these things but it is easier for me to drop the ball, or feel like I’ve dropped the ball in these areas.  As much as I like the thought of being fully capable of managing Avalon alone again, or taking on new students, or even getting through a full week of lessons, it just can’t quite happen yet.

Reaching out to see folks or even talk with them on the phone is near impossible.  The people I see often are those who are at the farm when I am there.  I am trying to return to a more full work schedule so those who are out there get to see me.  I’m not really calling or texting anyone on my own. Just too much work.  There are many family and friends I’d love to spend time with, but if it’s left up to me being with it enough to set those things up it probably won’t happen for awhile. I know many who want to be there for me and I know that you all are.  It’s just I don’t have words to ask for things. I just can’t right now, unless you happen to be lucky enough to be right next to me when I am working on something and extrovertly start asking for things.

I’m wanting hugs and silly conversations just as much as I always have but have a hard time asking for those things.  I think I am becoming quieter in some ways because to speak out loud opens up flood gates of all the swirling thoughts in my head all the time.  It’s too much swirling for me most days. I don’t really want to spend all my time with folks rambling about the swirls. So instead I sit quietly in a group and just listen.  Actually kind of nice.

I am trying to be patient with myself and take the journey for what it is.  But I worry that others will lose their interest or their patience or their desire to walk with me. I’m not receiving messages like that, just an unfounded, underlying fear of ending up completely alone.  I’m guessing this is also a natural part of the process.

I’m also guessing that the reality for all of us is that we secretly are confused, and scared, and struggling and fearful inside.  We all try to put on a “got it together” face to just make it through our days.  We all look for glimpses of light in the fogginess of our own lives.

Yes, I do have lots of things that happen each day that I feel happy and content about.  And I am dreaming and scheming more.  And I am able to handle more projects and tasks each day.  I just look forward to the day that I can feel confident, really confident about who I am and what I am about again.

Crazy, fascinating journey!

P.S. Just thought of another thing that is most interesting right now. Making decisions about simple things like what movie to watch, or restaurant to go to, or shirt to buy, etc. are nearly impossible.  I’m usually pretty decisive and can easily share my opinion. Now, I find it much, much easier to follow along and let others decide.

Today I turn 48.  I’ve always seen birthdays as a day to celebrate all of the accomplishments from the year before.  I find great joy in birthdays; feeling special on my own and doing what I can to make others feel special on theirs.  They are a day for remembering and pondering over the year, sifting through memories to see what should be carried over into the new one.  They are a day to honor ourselves and allow others to reach out to us with love and joy.  They are a day to open ourselves up to receive and simply rest in the comfort that we’ve made it through another year.

My birthday is also a time that I look forward into a new year of living.  Even more than the beginning of a new calendar year, it is the time that I set intentions for a new year in my life.  It is a time (that usually encompasses many more days than just my actual birthday) that I think about what I want to embrace and what I need to let go of.  It is a time for naming and claiming who I am and who I want to be.  It is a time for taking the first steps into new adventures and playing just a little bit more.

This week in Florida has been an amazing gift and I feel so very blessed to be spending the week of my birthday at an ocean, on a beach, surrounded by family, playing with my kids.  The place I have always felt the most peaceful, the most able to tap into joy and love is at the beach.  My heart lightens with the sand in between my toes, the crash of the waves in my ears, the smell of the sand and salt water, the endless blue of the ocean as far as my eyes can see.  Every single time I am on a beach I spend hours brainstorming how I can make this a daily reality for myself.  If I ever won the lottery I would move to the beach in a blink of an eye.  There is nowhere else that I feel as much lightness of being as I do when I sit on a beach with the ocean stretched out before me.

This week has also been one of great poignancy for me.  Russell and I first connected because of our love for the ocean and beaches.  The very first thing I remember hearing him say when I met him in our Feminist Theology class in graduate school was that he had a beach spirituality.  Now mind you, when we met he was studying to become a priest. But when he said that my ears perked up and I knew I had to get to know him.  Thus began a friendship that grew into love that led us to creating the family and the life that I now have.

Being here in Florida without him has been much harder than I had thought it would. be.  Oh I knew it would have many challenges, but I had honestly been feeling pretty strong and well on my way to healing and wholeness again.  I’ve been walking more confidently forward, able to have conversations about Russell with friends without immediately feeling choked up, and just able to move through my daily life with more ease.  Pfftt, I forgot that the reality of vacation is a releasing of the tight hold I often have on myself and on my life.  I move through my days finding the ways to keep functioning.  I don’t avoid dealing with things but I have many tools to get through each day without breaking down all of the time.

But on vacation, I am able to relax and simply stay in whatever the moment can bring.  This week that has meant allowing myself the time and space to feel it all.  I am having great moments of joyous playfulness.  Yesterday sliding down the slide off of the pontoon boat into the ocean was awesome and very playful.  Playing cards, napping, being silly, crazy shopping experiences, bloody marys all day if I want, walking across the street to the beach, all joyous times!

I am also, in the midst of these joyous times, missing Russell so very, very much. Tears well up and pour out of me often this week.  He would have loved every single minute of this vacation.  It was on vacations that both he and I could relax enough to let go of all our work concerns and simply be with one another and our kids again.  We were always happiest together when we were in Florida.  It was always as if our hearts would open and sing to one another again.  And oh what a beautiful song we could sing together when we let go of all of the blockages and barriers and worries that living a busy life can do to us all.  As I relax and allow myself to just be in every moment this week, with no focus on working and new endeavors ahead, my heart sings a sad song of longing and missing and wishing that Russell could really be here.  While I do feel his presence, it isn’t the same as him being here with us in the flesh.

It continues to be the most fascinating part of this journey for me, that I walk in this in between place.  I walk between joy and sorrow; light and darkness, endings and amazing new beginnings.  This week, when I don’t have to focus at all on work (thank you my amazing Avalon community), I can allow myself to feel it all in every moment.  I am allowing myself to be more open and vulnerable because I can.  I don’t have to be the responsible one.  I imagine I will return to Illinois a little more raw; in some ways a little more healed and in other ways a little more in need of new healing.  And that is okay.

So I find myself settling into this new definition of myself that I carry forth into my new year of living; a definition I have avoided writing or even speaking out loud very much.  My name is Lara and I am the widow of Russell Peterson.  I am the widow whose task it is to help myself and our children heal and step strongly into lives that we don’t know the way through.  I am the widow who wants to remember Russell with joy and love and light and keep his memory alive for others to know him.  I the widow who wants to live her life filled with and focused on the joys in her life as this is the very best way that I can honor Russell’s memory.  I am the widow who walks in the middle of paths of darkness and light, sadness and joy, confusion and clarity.  This is not the only definition I have of myself, but it is the newest and I walk slowly, ever so slowly, into what it means for me.

From the beginning of this cuckoo luckoo time I have done all I can to remain as honest with myself about what I need for myself and for my children.  I refuse to walk this part of my journey with anything but openness to what it is I need to do in each moment to handle my grief in the way that is best for me.  Grief is a bizarre thing in that even though there are obviously common elements of grieving for everyone, the way in which we grieve is so uniquely our own.  Being honest and direct about what we need in every given moment is, I believe, essential.  For some, never talking about it is good. For others talking about it a lot is good.  Some people need to share their journey with others and some need to have it be as private as they can make it.  All of it is okay.

I share my journey through my writings because it is what I feel compelled to do,  It gets it out of me and one of my deepest hopes is that my words may somehow, in some tiny way be healing for others.  I write for me because the need to write rises up in me like the dragon needing to fly.  There is no other thing I can often do in those moments I feel called to write.  I simply have to get it all out.  And I share that writing because I do believe we are all connected and the sharing of my story helps others understand my journey and might help someone feel not quite so alone in their own journey.

I wish I could stay here near the sand and the surf that heals my entire being.  But since I can’t stay I will simply embrace every last moment of joy I can in these last few days we are here.  I am beyond thankful that I get to spend my birthday here in a place I love and that Russell loved.  He would have been so happy to celebrate with me.  So I will just celebrate extra hard for both of us.

In this time and in this moment, I am happy that I will be walking soon on the beach with a bloody mary in my hand, listening to the laughter of my kids playing in the ocean.  I am happy that it is sunny with gorgeous blue skies. I am happy that I will be eating crab legs for dinner tonight.  I am happy that my family and friends love me in all of the aspects of myself.  I am happy that we have a silly, adorable, wonderful puppy here to play with us.  I am happy that we will play on go carts (we hope) later today.  I am happy for this day of hearing from folks that they are thinking of me and that I am loved.  I am happy that writing is a joy for me.  I am happy to have survived this past year. I am happy for the beginning of a new year that promises to have lots of new adventures as I awaken into a new understanding of who I am and what I am about.

This song by Rachel Platten has become the one that I play over and over again every day. As I feel myself moving into to being able to take bigger steps, I feel myself fighting my way back to walking and living strongly. No longer am I taking just baby steps on my path of healing. I’m at least taking toddler steps now, no longer needing to hold onto something solid to make my way through. I’m not ready to run full force ahead and have many moments that I still fall down into a crumbled heap. Some days all I can do is crawl but others I feel like I am dancing through the day. On all the days,  I am fiercely reclaiming my strength and my hope that I am healing.

This past week was a powerful one of reclaiming for me. The return of the sun after weeks of grey and rainy weather acted like that one match that created an explosion of activity from me. I pushed myself for 6 days to prep for Avalon Horse Farm​’s amazing, first Cross Country Schooling Day yesterday. I worked for 5 to 8 hours each day in the heat fixing fence, making new jumps, putting in new gates, prettifying the farm and so much more. I had lots of helpers but some of the projects I took on to do myself because I needed to know that I CAN DO IT again. I’ve felt so weak and out of it for months that I needed to feel strong and mighty and completely competent again, even if just for a little while. So I spent the week doing things that 5 months ago I could have done without blinking. My body was sore beyond belief each day. But every thing I did made me feel like my power was being turned back on. The best was when I lifted a jump that weighs at least 100-150 lbs onto the lawn tractor cart all by myself. I kept thinking I could get help but at my core I could hear myself screaming “No, you need to do this. This is part of your fight song back. This is your way to become strong and powerful again. This is the way to take back your life.” I did get help taking the jump back off the cart, because hey, I don’t need to do it ALL alone. 🙂

I still miss Russell deeply every moment of every day. There are so many wonderful things I want to share with him that our kids are doing and that are happening at Avalon. I do talk with him often in my mind and out loud at times. I picture him smiling at me and that makes me smile. I am finding that it truly is getting a little bit easier. Somethings are harder but oh so many are easier. I can at least function without feeling like I’m trapped in fog all the time. And that is a very, very good thing.

I am fighting and dancing and loving and crying and loving my way back to myself. The words and hugs and love you all share with me and my family are the lighted stepping stones that I follow to keep my heart open. Keep them coming. You’re helping me find my way back.

Synchronicity is one of my greatest allies right now.  Over and over again, I am surprised by the ways in which things happen in my life at just the right time and moment.  My final dive down into the depths of my darkness yesterday, after a good 10 days or so of swimming deeper and deeper into murky waters, came at just the right moment.  For just a few hours after my dive, I was able to spend time with my life coach/counselor/guide who helped me swim through the deep and start making my way back up and out.  Through some new, very cool guided meditations she helped me start re-framing some of my fears and my brokenness.  And she 100% affirmed that I am exactly where I need to be in this time and in this moment.

Here is some of what I trusted myself (and her) to do and what I was able to walk away with.  I share this because it was powerful for me to start reframing things and I desperately hope that my pain can give hope to others and a possible path out of their own. Plus, writing is such a necessity for me and I need to do it more!

I dove deep down into all the fear, all the pain, all the brokenness.  I allowed myself to feel it all in every part of my being, seeing all the millions of pieces scattered around me.  At one point within this part of the exercise, as I was being encouraged to feel it all, I wailed “I’m afraid to feel it all.  If I allow it all in I want to start throwing things and break all the windows in this room.”  And Ayanna just smiled and quietly told me to let it all in.  Then, as I was shaking and crying and feeling as if my body truly would explode into millions of pieces, she started guiding me to start allowing all of the broken pieces to start coming back to me.  This part of the process was really slow at first.  I couldn’t find the pieces and didn’t even know where to look which brought more tears.  The ah-ha moment came when Ayanna said to imagine my core, my true self made of light and love as a magnet drawing all of the pieces back in.  Then the pieces started coming flying back.  I didn’t have to “do anything”, just allow the magnet to do the work.  All I had to do was stand in the light and the love and breathe.  The rest would happen.  Wow, just WOW!  Powerful, powerful stuff for me!

The rest of my session we talked through much of my feelings of brokenness, fear and also broke down a little more my steps in this time and in this moment that are healing me.

***I am experiencing much of the breaking apart, the exploding of my life that in some ways I didn’t experience early on.  The grieving process is in no way a linear path. It’s as twisted up and with as many turns as any maze.  The first few weeks of this journey I stood so strongly in the center of the Web of Love and Healing I had spun that I didn’t feel very broken.  But now, as I settle into being a single parent, having a bedroom that is only mine, making decisions on my own, I break a little bit more each day.  So I find myself in a new part of the maze-like journey of grieving and it is baffling at best.

***The explosion of my being is the detox and cleansing that must take place in order to be open to move into the new life that is now occurring.  The explosion is very real, very necessary, and part of the deeper, ongoing clearing to become a New me. Or actually to become a deeper, more authentic me.

***This is a time to re-frame EVERYTHING and EVERY situation, large and small, menial and monumental.  ALL of it is new and can be new.  I find this to be one of the greatest gifts of this time.  I am now in a position to give everything in my life new respect, new attention, new focus.  I am in the rare place of being able to 100% decide what my life will look like from this point forward.  I am re-learning what is truly important.  I am attempting to live out of my deepest truths and trust my gut instincts over all else.  If it feels off kilter than I usually don’t do it.  I am encouraging my kids to listen to what they most need and do what feels right to them.  I am trying to trust that when I am ready to make decisions about any new endeavors I will know what to do.

***The explosion reflects the other side – the clear and new side – that someday I will be able to walk strongly and with confidence in.  It will be different.

***I work so hard to be positive and see the opportunities in every situation that I do not allow myself to simply feel the pain and voice my darker side.  I cannot see the light or be light if I don’t also name the darkness.  All of it is part of me.

***The menial tasks that I often find so challenging are my greatest victories each day.  These are my anchors, the things that ground me back into the here and now.  Taking a shower, feeding a horse, putting a halter on, picking up my clothes, and all of the dozens of little things I do each really are a big deal right now.  They help me put one foot in front of another like a baby learning to walk who cruises around the furniture.  These tasks are not any heavier than before they just feel like it.  The minute details of my life are the great gift and proof that I AM DOING IT!  This was a huge insight for me and I could feel the pressure leave my body as Ayanna talked me through this.  To be able to see dozens of victories throughout my day just based on things that just to be second nature is so freeing.  The smallest things can become my greatest lessons in living a life of intention in the here and now.  Each task I complete during the day is a way to strengthen my body and spirit.

***I must work in plenty of alone time to breathe and heal and give myself the space I need to process all that comes flooding over me each day.

***I need to be more clear and direct in stating what I need.  And I need to learn to remove myself quicker and tap out when I feel things boiling up inside of me.

***Grieving is a door way to many gifts.  It creates new places for new solutions.  The problems have changed so I need new solutions.  My life has changed so I need new ways of doing things.  It also gives me the space to be real and authentic .It is a bizarrely fascinating time of wonder and awe as I look at the world through new lenses.

***I must write every day. Or at the very least I must write when the urge comes over me.  I feel so much more connected to my core when I am writing.  Other things will just have to wait if the writing muse is what calls out to me.

Thank you all for you support and holding up the web.  I am feeling you reach out and love me in the darkness.  Healing and trusting that all will be well.  Feeling grateful, grateful, grateful!

“It takes 10 times longer to put yourself back together than it does to fall apart.”  Finnick to Katniss in Mocking Jay

I find myself these days broken and afraid.  Perhaps I have been like this since the beginning of my journey in Cuckoo Luckoo Land. Maybe the shields of my own making and the people around me who have acted like shields kept me from seeing how many pieces I broke into during his time in the hospital and when he died.  Or perhaps it is only as I walk deeper and longer into a world without Russell that my entire being feels as if it is crumbling under the weight of all that I am holding up and holding onto right now.

In the end it doesn’t really matter when the breaking began.  What matters is the here and now. And in this time, in this moment I feel broken and afraid.  I feel as if all of the pieces of myself – my heart, my soul, my physical body, my gifts, my strengths, my weaknesses – all that I am is laying jumbled around my feet in a million tiny pieces.  All of it is scattered around me waiting for me to reassemble it all into some kind of cohesive whole again.

I am afraid, however, that I may never feel strong or capable enough again to pick up the pieces of my life, the pieces of me and function in the world.  I am afraid that the ache that settles into my chest will be as much of an ongoing, constant pressure as the arthritis in my knees has become.  Always there, sometimes dully present and others so strong I am rocked to my core.

I am afraid that nothing will ever feel good enough again.  Long have I struggled with expecting too much from myself.  Most of the time, I actively work to be content with whatever I get done in a day, not stressing over what is still on my to do list.  These days I am afraid that I will never, ever get things done from a list.  Because I just don’t care enough.  I don’t have the follow through energy to get things done.  And any drive to push through is not easily accessible.

I am afraid that I am not enough for my children.  That just me with them leaves them with such a gaping hole that nothing I could ever do will make it better.  I am afraid that our combined sorrow and confusion over the craziness of this time may leave us treading water, or feel like the waves will keep crashing over us for years and years to come.   When there are two parents you can share the burdens and the joys of parenting.  There’s less pressure to get it all right. You can tag team on everything.  You have someone to support you when you are feeling weak and vulnerable and just don’t have answers.  As I settle into the reality of being a single parent, I fear that I will mess up my kids and just am not enough.

I am afraid that I will spend my days always right at the edge of having the Kraken come barreling up from the dark depths  of my pain and confusion and just start striking out at everyone around me.  In spite of practicing many of my coping tools today, the Kraken came barreling up like it had been shot out of a volcanic eruption.  Several folks got caught in the tentacles before I was able to breathe, regroup and reel it all back on.  Even as I apologized and they each said it was okay and they understand, I felt so sad that I just didn’t leave and go be alone earlier. I fear that I will hurt so many people as I am trying to wander through these lost, lost days of finding the pieces of myself.

I am afraid some days that the darkness, the Kraken will win completely and I will be left all alone in the aftermath of a rampage.  I fear that I push people away in my inability to be around anyone some days.

I am afraid many, many days that I will never really heal.  I still feel so lost and so confused and so stunned most days. Even on the good days that I feel pretty strong and capable of breathing deep, there is a part of me that fears I will never really be able to handle all of my life again.  It is often still the simplest of things that can push me flying off the ledge, down into the abyss where the Kraken lives.  I find it hard to trust that the butterfly dragon will lift me up and out of this abyss and help me soar in the light.  I fear that my heart will always hurt.

I am afraid that I will not be able to remember the simplest of things ever again.  I forget everything these days, everything!  If it isn’t sent in text or email format I can’t remember. And if I receive messages in writing, or I write it down myself it’s gone out of my brain within minutes.  I do not like feeling so foggy and confused all of the time.

I am afraid that I will lose the farm, the business, the community of Avalon that I love so much.  Only when I am surrounded by the all of the Avalon kids or when I am completely alone with just the creatures of Avalon do I feel hopeful.  The day to day workings of the farm can still leave me feeling confused, completely incompetent, and more lost than even when we first took over the farm.  Just last week I went to Home Depot to pick up a few supplies for adventure camp.  I ended up almost running from the store in a panic.  Such waves of “what the hell am I doing?  I can’t run a farm.  I can’t run my life.  I just want to be home with my kids, nothing else.” flooded over me.  An easy trip to a place I rarely went to with Russell and I just about lost my mind.  I breathed through and didn’t run screaming from the store.  But I fear my ability to ever be able to completely manage Avalon again.  Teaching lessons is okay. But scheduling lessons for new students feels like climbing Mount Everest.  Feeding the horses and turning them out with someone is good. But handling a feeding on my own – nope. Answering the simplest of questions feels monumental.  Helping folks work through differences of opinion, or planning for shows, or handling anything more than putting a halter onto a horse seems near impossible many days.  So I fear that I may never be all there again and able to work with confidence and ease.

I am afraid that my desire to be fair and inclusive of all people in our community will fall by the wayside as I no longer have the energy to reach out to people.  I just don’t have the energy or desire to invite people along for the journey.  I can barely get myself and the kids out of the house some days.  The thought of trying to reach out, invite others into conversations about Avalon’s future projects and direction, and make sure that people have a chance to voice their dreams and concerns is way too much.  It actually leaves me feeling grumpy and ready to just quit everything.  I feel myself, at times, closing the circle around myself and the kids tighter and tighter.  And I find myself not really caring if others feel left out.  In some ways this can be a path to a good thing as I learn to stay in my business and out of others, placing the responsibility for inclusion back on others.  But right now I fear living feeling grumpy, resentful and pissy.

I am afraid that others will start losing their patience with me and my journey.  I fear that then I will be alone.

I am afraid that I won’t be able to go out and have fun for an entire evening or day again.  Crowds still tend to do me in within an hour to 2 hours of being in them.

I am afraid that as I sift through the pieces of myself and attempt to put them back together that there are many more good- byes ahead. Good-byes to people who I no longer can connect with; good-byes to long held dreams; good-byes to pieces of myself that no longer can fit into part of the new, cohesive me; good-byes to many, many things.  Again, while I know on many levels that some of these good-byes could be a good thing, right now I just don’t know how I can handle more good-byes.

I am afraid that as I attempt to put myself back together that I am still in the breaking apart stage.  If that is true it may be a long, long time before I am back together.

I believe that the first steps to releasing the choke hold fear can wrap around us are naming what they are. There are many more things that rattle through me each day.  And I name those at least into journal.  I want to be whole and courageous again, rather than broken and afraid.  But for today, in this time and in this moment I walk my journey feeling broken and afraid.

I am fairly confident that this will be a long, rambling journey of a blog. But hey, I am writing again and my life is a long, rambling, muddled journey right now. So my writing matches my journey.  If you are ready to read, buckle up for what might be an interesting journey.  I plan to allow myself to write whatever pops into my mind and heart this morning.

Most of my blog posts and musings as I like to call them have clearly and almost fully been written in my head long before I try to set this into readable format.  The last several weeks have been so jam packed with activity and warring emotions that my ability to formulate all running through me into coherent external words has been impeded.  Overall, I’ve been okay with that.  Avalon activities are running strong – 3 weeks of summer camps down, off property large group adventures, planning for some awesome events coming up this summer, gardening, care taking, and tons more.  The last 3 weeks I’ve spent well over 65 hours a week working.  I’ve been surrounded by people, animals, and the land.  Mostly that gives me good, positive energy.  But at times it feels way too daunting to manage and even at Avalon, with its’ 75+ acres I feel crowded at times. However, even on the darkest of rainy days (which we’ve had wayyy too many of)  I fill with gratitude that Avalon is my work and my sanctuary.  From the beginning of Avalon almost 8 years ago, I have walked that land as if it was made for me.  The very place itself continues to sing to me. the community that is there now, committed to the mission of Avalon and to my family, listen to my song and call me back to it when I begin to lose my way.  Without them and all that Avalon is for me, I have no doubt I would still be walking the dark and lonely paths of Cuckoo Luckoo Land all alone.

I am coming to realize that the jam packed days of summer on a farm often can leave me so weary that writing just seems like too much of an effort.  I long to sit for hours when I write, allowing the Muse to flow through me and from me.
While I love to sit for hours at Avalon, most summers, the incessant rains we’ve been having this year have been driving me into the barns.  I like the barns okay, but it being under my Magic Tree, or walking in the pastures, or working in the garden, or teaching my students about riding in the open, painting jumps or all the other dozens of joyful things that can be done in the sun that I am missing right now.  The farm is greener than it’s ever been and yet I miss the sun.

The rain does, in many ways, match my mood these days and the persistent sound of it falling on the earth with the wind blowing through the trees can be very soothing. I find myself often watching the storms rolling in and smile thinking “yep, that’s about how I feel inside.” Dark, powerful, rolling around, wild, nourishing for the earth, sometimes soothing and other times hurtful, flooding, flooding, flooding with emotion and energy.

There is much that inundates me everyday, like the rain that keeps inundating the earth right now.  Some things come on me like a light rain that just mists the earth leaving it glistening.  I continue to be gifted with folks who reach out to me, sharing stories of Russell, sharing their love and hope for my kids and I, who hug me and say “I have no words. I love you. I’m sorry. I’m here for you.”  These people brighten my day and leave me glistening a little bit brighter.  Just yesterday, at Devinwood’s horse show I had so many people, some who I know and others who are new to me, come up give my a hug and just be there in that time and in that moment with me. this happens to me often each week. I am touched beyond adequate words of gratitude for the ongoing check-in texts, cards, calls, emails, facebook messages, seeking me out that continues to happen for us.  The web of love remains.

The daily reminders that Russell is not with us are like the constant, strong rain we often see in summers. Not really storms but solid enough rain that there is no way to avoid getting wet if you dare to step outside. So many things keep popping up that I want to call and tell Russell about or take him to see.  The grieving process is odd in the ways that one moves forward, then slides back, then gets stuck for awhile, then sees things clearly, then twists back through it all again.  There are days I can simply smile as I think of Russell and all that he was and is.  Other days, not so much.

Other times, I feel pounded by emotions and experiences so powerful, so threatening and so torrential I want to curl up in a bawl under my blankets and hide away from the world until the sun returns.  I just starting chuckling to myself that today, on the summer solstice, the longest day of the year, it is once again dark, rainy with little hope of seeing the sun.  I love the summer solistice but even it seems darker  to me this year.  The emotions and experiences of all of the firsts we are facing is the hardest to endure.  Probably because for this first year, almost everything feels like a first.  The first time any of our kids have traveled out of the country; the first mother’s day without Russell helping pamper me; the first birthdays celebrated; the first summer solstice without a farm celebration (and usually bonfire); the first Father’s Day (double whammy weekend with yesterday being the 3 month marker of his death); the first time seeing family without him; and on and on and on it goes.

The kids and I are all making concerted efforts to make new choices, try new things, return to work, find joy in life, learn and grow and hope and love and live.  I am proud of all of them and I am proud of myself for how we are walking our journeys and trying to live as authentically as we know how to do at this time and in this moment.  But I am not going to lie or deny that the firsts pound upon us like the crazy storms we’ve been having this past week.  The first leave us as blind as one can feel when trying to drive in rains so hard you can’t see further ahead then a foot or two. One needs to trust in those drives and in the way our life is right now that all will be well and we need to just keep moving slowly forward.  Experiencing the deep, deep heartache of missing Russell and what our lives were can’t be ignored just like you can’t ignore the thunderstorms that pour over us.  It crashes and it booms and it scares us to our core some days.

Standing in the storms of emotions that swirl around me from myself and my kids and the others who continue to grieve for Russell, is a daily – okay really a moment by moment – lesson in utilizing all of my tools to remain centered, grounded, and open.  Just taking deep breaths can be challenging at times.  I find myself reacting quicker and in weirder ways than I’ve done  before.  All those who have heard my reactive screams and loud gasps of late can attest to this.  My heart is so raw right now that I find I much more vulnerable to being thrown off balance.  I can recover fairly quickly in most situations but I can get knocked off my balance board by the most interesting things.  Thankfully, I practice my meditative skills daily so they are closer to  being in my grasp.  When I can tap into these I am able to remain within the powerful love and light that surrounds me.

Some days, those gifts of a day, I am able to dance for awhile in the rain.  Being with my kids always leaves me dancing at least in my heart.  I am so proud of them and the ways they are trying to be honest about what they need.  They are the brightest beacons of my love and my light.  Hearing stories about Russell and how he touched people’s lives also leaves me dancing. Kind of a low, swaying dance but still a dance.  I love hearing about how he made an impact in the world.  I do, so very strongly, wish he could have believed that he did.  But my journey is helped hearing from those who miss him.   I dance when I see the new things on the horizon for Avalon – as a horse farm and as the sanctuary I dream of.   Great joy fills me when I can be with my family and closest friends who don’t need me to be anything more than what I am in each moment.  Simply sitting and talking or just being with one another makes my heart dance a little bit more each time.

What the ongoing rain also allows me to do is to focus on things I wouldn’t usually choose to do during the summer.  My friend, Emily, has taken it as her personal mission to turn the office/lounge at Avalon into a true office for me.  On the whole my brain works a little clearer when I am there. I need a space there that is for the business so that my house can become just a safe, resting place for myself and the kids.  One of the bigger tasks in decluttering and preparing for a new office space was cleaning out the large, personal file cabinet Russell and I kept out there.  Why we had it there I’m not quite sure of anymore.  But it doesn’t really matter.  On Wednesday, during the pounding pouring rains of the day, I went through all the files.  Emily offered to do it but it was a task I knew I needed to do for myself and that was the day I just decided it needed to get done.  it was emotional for so many reasons – remembering things and finding lots of Russell’s writings.  But it was a wonderful step of clearing and letting go for me.

I have also been actively working to get clearer on many areas of my life.  There are new paths I can take and new decisions to make.  And, as with any unknown journey, I am figuring out what I need to make my journey the best it can be for me.  I help the kids as they figure out their journey as well, letting them know their decisions about everything in their lives need to be what is best for them, no one else.  Here are a few of the path markers I’ve been setting for myself and encouraging the kids to use as well.

*I need to be me and let others be themselves.  All of us, in every situation in our lives, need to do what is best for our own journeys.  To allow myself to accept others expectations of me to rule my journey, or try to impose my expectations on others is harmful to us all.

*Clear and let go of my judgements – about myself and others

*Expect nothing in return and learn to give freely

*Be VERY HONEST with all of it – Say my truth for myself and stand in it.                                                                                          As I move forward with many changes I am making for my personal life, for Avalon and its’ endeavors, and for my family I am trying to stand in my own truth about what I NEED for MINE.   If others truths don’t match up to my own, that is OKAY!  I can simply stand in my own and trust that all will be well.

*Raise my energy vibration

*Respect and acknowledge others’ free will.

*Send light and love to all everyone, especially to those who frustrate me

*Release my frustration

*Continue to clear and process my own energy and my own journey

*Become crystal clear in stating what I need and want from others. Then allow others to choose whether they can meet those needs or I can seek the fulfillment of them somewhere else.

*Let go of expectations and live in what is, not what I expect or want things to be

*Remain outrageously open to the possibilities of my journey.  Stop trying to figure it all out right now. Rather live and love right now.

I find myself reaching an end to words tumbling out from me. A few musings in my head but they seem better for another day and another writing. I am hopeful that with an off week from camp before me that I will be able to do some more writing and gardening and sitting and riding and reading and walking and playing.  I am hopeful for a week of allowing some of the pieces of myself that have fallen off to catch up.  Kind of hoping I have time for some napping too.  Smile!

Many blessings to you all.