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Cookies

This week, I decided to pretend I was one of my other "professions." In the Artist's way, you have to decide what else you would be in life. One of mine is to own a cookie bakery. This week, I decided to delve into that. So, I made chocolate chocolate chip cookies, my partner's favorite. They were pretty good, not my best work. But, everyone enjoyed them. We live in a new home, so I have a new stove and we're still becoming friendly. It takes a while for stoves and I to be on the same page, producing delicious food for all to enjoy. For some reason, they fight me. It's like my baking intuition has to be re-set because I need to learn the new system. And it's frustrating because my core intuition is there and shouldn't fail me, yet it still does sometimes.

What core intuition? Well my nose can tell when things are a minute until done. I can feel the food in my body when it's nearly perfect. I can look at a cake and know it needs 30 more seconds. And I can tell with a simple look, smell, or pan jiggle when something goes wrong. I love this about baking. I know everyone says it's just math and it is. But I enjoy the inner energy work it requires of me. Like when it says, beat until fluffy. What's fluffy, right? How does you know? I tell by the ripples. When the ripples are right, the fluffy is achieved.

So me and this stove are starting our journey to baking heaven. We'll get there and I'll find my way again, to holiday baking gifts, cookie parties, and simple weekday goodies. Cookies are where it's at though. Chocolate chip. Simple perfection. They never fail me. Not even with a fickle stove.

[rebirthflightsoar-blog]

Starting again

I left my job three weeks ago. It was freeing. And now I want to write. I have no idea what to write or how to do this but I'm doing it. I recently started The Artist's Way, on a liberatory path towards my own creativity, trying to find it again. This week is about self identity and it's hard, hard to face how far I've gotten from myself. How lost I am in this life I built. I had to make a list of 20 things I like to do. I barely got to 16 until I felt really stumped. I don't even know what I like anymore. It's a lonely place to know just what your nos are, losing sight of your yeses.

I have been working to take these masks off, peel back the layers, to find this core. And today I feel angry, resentful, impatient. But I will say writing gave power to the words, and subdued the need to be in anger. Those words carried those emotions, held me tightly as I cried, scribbled, vented. They wrapped themselves around me, held me close and reminded me that this too is just ne. Being free doesn't mean being without anger. And being free means I do this for me, only me. Writing is freedom. It's power. It's voice, my voice. I want to write poetry. I'm not even sure I know folks who truly enjoy poetry, at least not openly. I find it to be a way to tell a story through imagery, simplicity and depth, all wrapped in some organized fashion of lines and stanzas. Today, I start writing again, every day, 250 words a night. It's practice. This post goes out into the world and maybe someone might read it. Or they don't. But there's a reason it holds this title - Rebirth, flight, soar. The molting has begun.

[rebirthflightsoar-blog]

And so it begins

Yesterday I felt it early but I didn't want to believe it. Not again I thought. I am just making this up in my head, it's just my nerves. But I couldn't ignore the tension in my lower abdomen, the discomfort, tightening. I felt the baby move in response. They're uncomfortable too. Then it released.

Minutes later it resurfaced on my left side. This time when I touched it, it felt like a hard rock in my gut. But it was only their head, being pushed by the irritable muscles in my uterus. All afternoon and into the night this continued. Tension here, tension there, all building up my worry, my insecurity, my concern for their life. It's only 23 weeks, I just need a few more. Well, alot more.

I reminded myself over and over that my body has done this before, I can trust it to make it. It did last time. Besides, these tensions are erratic, no pattern, no direction towards progress. Thank goodness.

Today I rested, just in case. Tomorrow I will do the same. It's all I can do right now, try to stay calm, try to relax, try to trust myself.

This morning, on an introduction to a call, I was taken through a breathing exercise, reminding myself that I stand on this earth, breath this air, am made up of water. I was then reminded that my power sits in my lower gut. Today I wasn't so sure, I couldn't feel the fire, the red radiating through my body. I just pictured them in a tight space, me holding my breath with every tightening. This is something to explore.

Because my power is there. It hasn't gone away. I am just having trouble seeking the meaning in that part of my body right now. What if the power in my uterus may be too much? I joke that it's irritable, unhappy with the slightest discomfort. But maybe it's just more powerful than I can know. Maybe the power is so strong, it's hard to contain, bursting with strength, intention, motherhood. Maybe the excitement of tapping into my inner purpose, mothering, creates so much intention that my body radiates it. The empress is my archetype after all. This is certainly something to explore, sitting through the chaos, to believe my body, my foundation, my inner strength to grow life, create life, bring another human into this beautiful powerful world.

[rebirthflightsoar-blog]

Appropriation

So white people, every year we do the same thing. Halloween, for whatever reason, we decide to appropriate cultures, take jabs at systems that work for us and oppress others, find insensitivity in costumes. What is this? Why do we continue to do this? We all pass around the articles about what not to do. There is always someone in the media taking heat for their thoughtless costume getup.

Yet still, every year.

This year it seems to be day of the dead makeup, at least on my social media feed. And not to actually celebrate the holiday or pay respects to the culture but instead to go out for a drink or a bar crawl. Or the local bakery is decorating their cupcakes with masks, selling them as Halloween treats.

When are we going to get our shit together, for real?

I admit I feel pretty angry and unable to engage in a productive way this evening with other white folks. And I also feel tired, every year it's the same thing. And quite frankly my fatigue is in no comparison to the actual harm being done over and over.

I was recently part of a conversation of how to bring white folks in. How do we get them to engage, find their heart space, find their skin in the game? We all had different and similar thoughts and acknowledged the often angry reaction we get in response. I try to remind myself these reactions aren't mine to own. Certainly I can do the work to consider how else to engage. But in all reality, you would think folks would want to know when they hurt others. But instead the American bred response is to blame the messenger for the centuries of white lies, pain, trauma of our ancestors, our corruptors of today. We carry that yes, but we also carry the capacity, the heart, the possibility to actually do this differently. For once, let's all choose the latter. Let's attack the pain together, unpack our socialized white identities to see the lies, the falsehood of whiteness. Let's actually open our hearts to believe others when they share pain, hurt, oppression. We are inherently capable to do this. Our bodies, hearts, minds can do this. We just need to choose it. We need to choose one another.

[rebirthflightsoar-blog]

Birth and love

Today I saw that an old friend had a baby about a month ago. I feel overwhelmed with love to send her way even though we haven't seen one another or talked outside of social media for nearly ten years. She is a constant reminder of how connection and love exist between people.

I don't remember the exact first time I met her, but I remember so many moments from that first year. She has a laugh that is contagious and boisterous. Her voice was much the same. You always heard her coming. And we always welcomed her presence.

My most favorite moment was probably her birthday when we surprised her with way too many adult things. I remember she thought I was behind it all, it was all me trying to make her night fun and full of life. It wasn't so much me, really not much at all. Others organized and I helped set up the surprise. But I laughed so hard when she immediately thought I was the mischief. Many might see that as a slight, it was a pure compliment from her.

She and I went through so many ups and downs together and apart, and quite frankly I don't know when it was that we actually lost touch. But I still yearn for friendship like hers. The purity of her soul, her laugh, her joy is a gift in anyone's life. I really miss that, her.

I feel so grateful to have gotten a glimpse into her most recent joy, love, motherhood. I feel so grateful for her. I feel so grateful that friendship can stand even with distance, physical disconnection, time. I just feel grateful today.

[rebirthflightsoar-blog]

Death

I feel I am a terrible friend and family member when it comes to facing death of loved ones. I am not sure where this stems from or why I feel the way I do. And to be honest, I'm not sure what I even feel.

Today, I saw a friend who recently lost her brother. Much like any other time, I don't know what to say, what to do. Is there anything I even can do? Perhaps it's because I'm not sure I believe anything I say or do matters. Death feels so final, there is no changing it, no way to unfold the overwhelming sense of loss of never seeing that person in breath ever again.

My first recollection of a death was my uncle. I was 10. He had cancer that came back and took him from us. The day he died, my mom told me that morning and I felt numb. I had already spent alot of time grieving when I found out he was sick. So maybe his actual death didn't feel so sad. I can't remember how soon I got to see him before he died, but I know I did. I got to see him laying in bed at my aunt's house, looking so unlike of what I knew him to be.

For his funeral, there was a viewing. My sister was only 7. Seeing him in his casket, she literally threw herself upon him, weeping hysterically. My parents calmed her down by allowing her to put a dollar bill in his pocket. His name was Bill.

At the actual burial, everyone cried but me. I think that I saw everyone else upset and assumed one of us had to be strong.

I've carried this detachment for a really long time. It is nearly always present with death. There have been a few occasions where I have fully grieved, allowed myself to feel the overwhelming loss, pain, sadness. When I think of my grandmother, I still weep just imagining her. Or if I hear a song that reminds me of her, the pain sneaks back in.

So I don't really know where this fear comes from in supporting others. Perhaps I fear seeing other's emotions, or fear how to hold them through such a time, or I simply fear that saying anything will just bring them to a place of overwhelming sadness when perhaps like me, they just want to not be sad for second.

I love my friend and wish I knew how to be better for her. I am spending so much time embracing life these days, I know that death is a constant that will need to be faced too. I will do it, if simply just for the love of myself. But, I still wish I could do better for her.

[rebirthflightsoar-blog]

Fatigue

Today I am so tired. But also thankful to be so tired. Life is moving these days, moving with intention, momentum, even excitement. I am connecting with people, community, sharing experiences, figuring out how we fit together in this larger whole, this universe, this journey towards liberation.

I have been actively working to be more like water, to flow, be flexible, even transform when the need arises. I think about ripples and how you can start a ripple with a simple touch. Even more incredible that ripples carry themselves, on their own, creating more movement, more ripples. I am getting to see more and more of what comes of the touches I cause, also seeing how I've become a ripple of someone else's touch. It's all so incredible.

And I'm tired. But fatigue comes because I am working, not simply because the world is exhausting. Fatigue is welcome, I want to feel the impact of my purpose, my work on my body. I want to be still water in the silence as I recharge for the next movement, next act. I want to consider what it's like to simply exist with all of the movement around me, to know that I still am part of the larger plan even when stillness is today's task. Yes, fatigue is welcome. For as long as its needed. Fatigue is a sign of what's accomplished and also of what's to come. Tonight, I plan to sleep well.

[rebirthflightsoar-blog]

High risk

Tomorrow I am taking a leap, it's high risk. I feel thankful to not be on my own but no matter I'm still the leader so all outcomes are on me. A couple of weeks back, I took a different kind of leap and realized that I was playing outside of me. I was leading from a place of authenticity, but it felt unwelcome, foreign, misplaced in our space. In my body, I felt all wrong.

I close my eyes and I see their faces, their brilliance, their beauty, their dedication. These people are amazing but they are also struggling. I am struggling. I am not sure I can be the leader anymore, it doesn't feel like the right fit. It doesn't feel like I serve the space in the way I am asked to arrive.

A colleague, friend, fellow leader shared the idea of decentralization. It spoke to me, put words to the feelings in my heart.

Tomorrow we take a step towards decentralization. It is nothing like we've ever done before. I'm not sure it's something most of us have experienced. But the goal is to lead by creating space with shared power, shared decision making, shared leadership. It could go entirely wrong, but instead I just hope it goes entirely right.

I think about what Gibrán told us, if it's working perfectly then you're not doing it right. Tomorrow can't be perfect, it can be a mess. My only true desire is that even among the muck, the unfamiliarity, the newness and/or confusion...that we all start to feel free.

[rebirthflightsoar-blog]

Joy

I once did an activity at a leadership institute where I was asked the question, "what brings you joy?" And I was not asked once, but instead over and over in a timed session. The idea was to go deeper, to really get at what brings you joy. I remember feeling uncomfortable trying to search for the answer for many reasons. But, my first realization was that I wasn't fully sure because I wasn't leading my life in a way that uplifted joy or even sat with the feeling of joy when it arose. I also felt uncomfortable because I was filled with overwhelming emotion. This came from a place of such yearning and also such abundance of emotion when thinking about these moments.

I also remember that my tears started when I thought about my kid's laughter. At the time she was about two years old. And two year olds have the best laugh. They're also starting to come into humor so they're exploring what is funny and what makes them laugh. My kid loved to laugh. She still does.

That simple exercise taught me something important, that I needed to know the answer. That I needed to pay attention to my own experiences, my own emotions, and to sit with joy when it arose. This lesson is just one of so many I have been lucky enough to have been offered since, all having brought me to a place of living primarily in joy. I feel an abundance of joy in my everyday experience, filled with my kid's laughter, my own laughter, and the simple notion of noticing joy in others around me.

This makes me think about when adrienne maree brown speaks of scale in Emergent Strategy. She pushes us to go deeper not higher. My life is no more filled with joy than it was years ago, I am just choosing to stay deep and to center in the joy that is already there, abundantly.

[rebirthflightsoar-blog]

The wave pool

I've taken my kid on a babymoon. This is a product of parental guilt, that and I always thought it would be fun to take her to a water park. So after a summer of minimal parenting due to overwhelming morning/all day/never ending sickness, I booked her a trip. And now we're here. It's like a casino for kids...games galore, rides, food, and an indoor water park.

My favorite part today was the wave pool. I had a feeling she'd enjoy it. It's a safer version of the ocean. Wave after wave without the fear of being pulled under, knocked down, or heaven forbid pulled out to sea. We took her into the deep water where she laughed and swam, arm floats keeping her in balance. She practiced her swimming and her back floats, laughing all the way. Then we took her to where the waves were breaking. She sat in my partner's lap while each wave crashed on her. Her joy was contagious as we both laughed with her.

She even braved some waves without her arm floats, trying to remember the basics of swimming. She's a bit out of practice but bold none the less. Her awkward stroke still makes me panic. I know she can do it, but it really just looks like she's sinking. And since she doesn't understand how to blow bubbles out to relax your breath, the breath holding looks like panic in her stressed eyes. No panic though, only laughter today. There was a moment in the wave pool where a lifeguard started to howl. All the kids and adults all jumped in, a massive wolf howl from hundreds of people echoing off the walls. It was wild, and such a sign that were in for a fun time. These days it takes a lot of joy to get a room full of people to get out of their head and into their bodies. This is going to be a great few days.

[rebirthflightsoar-blog]

Mothering

The other day, sitting in traffic, I was thinking about today’s obsession with princesses. I was trying to remember if that ever existed for me as a kid and I have no recollection of such. I remember liking sesame street, he-man, baby dolls, horses, and having an obsession with care bears simply because the show was on only at a time that I never got to see it.

Baby dolls were my favorite by far. Every year for Christmas, I asked for a new one. I had a collection of dolls such as baby talks, talking Julie, baby shivers, and many more. I especially like the ones that were lifelike. As a kid, I mostly liked to play house only to be the mom. I just liked to have the baby, feed the baby, generally obsess over the baby. As a sister, cousin, I was so excited to have babies to dote on, carry everywhere, pretend they might be mine. I developed the baby hip early in my teenage years, the perfect hip lean to carry the cute toddlers while multitasking.

Ironically, as I aged I lost touch with this. I think in an exploration of my own femininity and independence I decided that mothering was a sellout. So much so that most of my dating life I never wanted kids. It wasn’t until my current partner came along that I changed my mind. I realize now that it was always about having a partner to parent with that I could trust to parent with intention. My previous partners never fit this bill. Even today I can’t imagine coparenting with any of them, even though I hope that if it’s what they want they have found a partner that matches their parenting.

My most recent months have centered on mothering. While at Cortes Island, it was central to my experience. It’s now central to my current projects, my purpose, my life, my future. It feels nearly ironic that I have found my way back to this, like I tried so hard to move away but now I just can’t help it. But really I think that being at Cortes allowed me to strip myself of socialization. So it should be of no surprise that my central purpose as a young kid still remains a core piece of my being.

I see my kid mothering her dolls. I have experienced her yearning for a sibling. I hope to uplift mothering in my life so she never feels like it doesn’t have to be a part of hers. I want her to embrace it if it feels central to her and to not lose it like I did. I can’t wait for this new baby, for her. And for me, and for my family.

[rebirthflightsoar-blog]

Conquering the eggplant

So I have a weird thing, it's a fear of a collection of holes. It can be incredibly consuming and isn't so straight forward. For example, seeing a lotus seed pod can take over my entire day if I'm already in a place of imbalance. Those holes just consume me, make my heart race, my skin jump and itch, take over my every thought. It feels and sounds completely irrational. In my calm, it makes no sense. Research says that this happens to some folks because in nature things with danger can come in patterns. It's like an over thinking, over reaction of my neurons when there is no fear to be had. In really tough times, the littlest thing can leap into this anxiety. Not too long ago, an eggplant did this. The pattern of seeds within were too much that day. So much I had to toss it, couldn't bring myself to cut it. To release this consumption of fear from my body, I chanted over and over "seeds are life, they birth new eggplants, there is nothing to fear". I had several moments where I had to stop and breathe, reminding myself, picturing the eggplant spreading it's seeds, watching the growth.

There aren't many people in my life that know this about me. My partner knows and recently I shared with some family. But it's not spoken about otherwise. I have simply learned to cope, avoid triggers, and try to concentrate on overcoming this.

Tonight I cut an eggplant. It was filled with seeds. Tiny little whitish seeds, waiting for their opportunity to spread life, proliferate. I said out loud "ugh, I hate the seeds". My kid asked why and I just said, "there's alot of them." I kept cutting, then I cooked, then I ate it. Success, it didn't consume me today. My skin jumps as I write this, but my mind is fighting towards freedom. I want to never let it consume me again. Eggplant is delicious, tasty, worth every bite. Maybe my share today will make it feel less ridiculous, less unknown, a step towards conquering.

[rebirthflightsoar-blog]

A new moon

Today was filled with energy, all throughout my house. My dog begged repeatedly to go into the backyard. Racing circles around the trees, chasing squirrels up the trees, sunbathing in the dirt she was overcome with the beauty of the day. When she came in at one point, I didn’t even recognize her, covered in dirt, hair matted. She looked like a whole new dog, a happy happy dog.

Today, my kid went to a pumpkin patch, her first ever field trip. She saw live pigs in person for the first time, rode a hay ride, picked out a pumpkin for the baby to add to the prior three gigantic orange gourds on our front stoop. She told me that she rode a ghoul bus, then asked what ghoul meant. Her excitement bubbled over as she danced her way through the evening, bouncing on the couch, telling imagined story after story. 

I spent the day crafting, building my purpose, my projects, my power. How many mice can I release in a day? Today I released three. It was about time, as I have been keeping them fed well in their cages, tentative to set them free. But they too were overcome with energy, abundance, readiness. 

The baby has spent the day practicing, practicing coordination, a little grasp, kicking, flipping, stretching. My entire body is blasting with energy as this new moon comes in. 

To see the impact on my whole family is a beautiful experience. Without context, and months ago before I felt connected, I might have tossed this day to the world as overwhelming, stressful, maybe even one to forget. But today when I realized it was a new moon, I grasped on tight to that power. I am holding that with both hands, with my heart. Watching all that is happening around me, seeing the joy, love, light. Such abundance.

[rebirthflightsoar-blog]

Regrounding

Today is better, I feel regrounded. I feel two feet on the floor in my comfy slipper socks hugging and warming my toes. I feel my heels taking on the extra weight of my swelling belly. I feel my ankles supporting these feet, attached to my strong calves, strong legs, powerful presence. I feel how these legs propel me, push me forward in walk.

It's a little wobbly right now as I also feel the pain in my right hip. This is the home to this growing baby, where they choose to lie, get comfy, settle into my body. I have heard this side of the body is less noisy, allowing them to snooze away to the beating sound of my heart. They'll wake tonight though. They always do. Nighttime is playtime, kicking punching, flipping, tickling.

I feel this added weight in my stomach and am consumed by the magic of this growth and their play. It's already familiar and I miss it when they're quietly napping away the day. Next I can feel my breath, shorter than usual as my lungs have less space. But better today that yesterday as my body adjusts allowing more space for the need of breath. My shoulders are tight, my tension always sits right here, pulling my shoulders forward stretching my trapezius resulting in persistent soreness.

Next my neck and my head. I can feel the strength here, my wisdom, my sight, taste, smell, hearing. It's so amazing that my head houses a giant computer that makes every piece of me work. Even more powerful that it knows how to tell my body to continue to grow and sustain new life. Finally my hair, it's extra soft today, a day out from a shower. It sits on my neck, tickles my chest and back as it sheds random strands throughout the day.

Today I feel grounded, I feel every piece of me. I feel whole.

[rebirthflightsoar-blog]

Stars

I had a dream last night about stars. I wrote yesterday's post before bed and I'd be lying if I did not admit its impact on my body. I searched desperately for a post that helped me find my way back. I saw a post by Ijeoma Oluo that highlighted that "one woman is enough". That took the consuming feel of overwhelming solidarity back to the small scale, the deeper scale. So I fell asleep.

I dreamt that person after person posted "me too" and each resulted in a star falling. It was like glittery snow sprinkling our world, hard to miss. It was so beautiful. When I woke I thought that they can't in fact be falling stars, but instead shooting stars. I know they are the same, but context mattered to me. Falling meant we are taken from grace, our spot in the universe, discarded for a quick show for others to see only for a moment. But shooting stars contain more energy, more intention. The collection of me toos is people choosing to send their message and to carry it with light. All of us saying me too isn't meant to make us all feel bad, but instead to draw attention to similarity, solidarity, reality. We are choosing our me toos, rather than having them taken from us.

I cannot find it in myself to post me too on facebook. I feel brave, but also silence matters to me right now. I would feel too much like a falling star in the eyes of my friends, family. Here I feel like a shooting star, speaking my truth and putting it into the universe. While also escaping how others see me, feel for me, or try to love me.

I do realize I'm missing from the glittery showing in the sky. But I remind myself that one is enough. A single shooting star is no less special than a sky full. It's all beautiful. We are beautiful.

[rebirthflightsoar-blog]

"Me too"

My facebook feed is consumed with article after article on Harvey Weinstein. It is also beginning to be consumed with two simple words, "me too". There is an effort in solidarity to show the massive amount of people that have experienced sexual harassment and/or assault.

This should be of no surprise to anyone as the statistics have long been offered to prove this fact. But many of us are silent. The amount of experiences I have had in this category are hard to quantify. But yeah, me too.

I see these two words though and I find some resistance in them. I have been reading "Hunger" by Roxane Gay, and it's timely that I am also reading the chapters on her own assault. Although, "timely" is poorly used here. Quite frankly I could read about the experiences of other people readily, if I just decided to look. But her story is reminding me about the impact on peoples bodies. The actual life changes and experiences that come as a result of this trauma. The words "me too" are only the first two words to our narratives.

I once had a conversation with a group of friends, all cis men. I shared the stat that it's estimated that 1 in 4 women will be raped in their lifetime. This is just cis women. Rates get even higher for trans women and other members of the LGBTQ community. I can name the number of friends in my own immediate life, and I know about 1 in 4 which means the statistics are much higher here too.

I say this because silence is common. There isn't much help. Most doubt the stories and default to innocent until proven guilty. There are the myths that people make it all up. Sure this has happened, but it's absurd that the system has instead defaulted to assuming doubt in all cases. That's what you get though when those that are accused have the most power, they work to retain it, at all cost. Costs to their sisters, partners, daughters, granddaughters, mothers...even costs to the young men who are taught this ownership. We're all sick from this.

I go back to the friends I was talking to one night. All of the men got really upset by the stat. One more than others, he thought I must be accusing them of rape. There were 4 of them so if you flipped the stat, it must mean 1 out of 4 of them must have raped someone or would at some point. I of course made him feel better but I wish I had told the truth.

The truth that assault isn't just violence on the street, in the bushes, in a dark alley. It is in our homes, from our friends, partners, or even family. Rape doesn't even always feel like rape because we're taught that it must be violent, a stranger, unexpected. But what about those moments where we doubt our own stories, our own truth. We spend time and energy wondering how we could have been different, how could we have prevented it, how we can't actually call it "rape" because the violence felt silent.

So I stand in solidarity with the "me toos", but I wonder where the perpetrators fall into this. Showing our truth doesn't also expose theirs. It doesn't unravel the system of patriarchy that teaches young men and boys that they own others, that we are theirs to gawk at, touch, be violent towards.

I am tired of seeing Harvey Weinstein's face, the over analysis of what he did and has done, why people didn't speak up. I feel overwhelmed by the bombardment of truth sharing, and concerned about the impact on those who this brings up trauma.

So I don't really know how I feel or what I think of all of this sharing. I just know, me too.

[rebirthflightsoar-blog]

Self forgiveness

Self doubt, questioning, intention, impact...sometimes it seeps into my day. Sometimes quickly and sometimes loudly. Most of today was incredible, bountiful energy, light, love, family. Today, I spent time with EL folks, a space I have been yearning for. Being in that space is like no other.

I walked in, in the middle of folks sharing an experience I was not a part of. Yet, I could physically feel their presence, their warmth, their welcoming and open hearts. I didn't feel like an outsider, simply a witness.

The energy I received and found with these folks spilled over into the rest of my day. I laughed and played with my kid and found footing in the joy in my life.

Ironically, when I feel most free is when self doubt comes out to play. In the midst of all of this energy, I started to question myself, my interactions, my potential impact of these actions. There are a couple moments where I knew I could do better, be better. But self doubt doesn't often let me just name it and push through. Instead it dwells, spreading into doubt of my authenticity, my power, my presence. Instead of just realizing that no person is perfect, we all eff up, it leads me to complete failure.

I suppose this is what abundance of energy truly is. I can't invite just the joy and pretend like I am not human. That there aren't things that are hard, and that I am not socialized to question this power, this drive.

I think back to a video I saw for a group of youth doing reconciliation and healing work on race and racism. In the video, a friend leads them in closure, asking for two breaths each with sound on the exhale. On the third breath, she asks for an exhale of forgiveness for yourself. For what you might have said or for what you didn't say.

In, out. Self forgiveness.