Day 17,065 Gratitude

I don't know what makes me think I can come home from Taos and put into words what it's done to me.  I can't.  Not last year.  Not this year.  Maybe not ever.  Time IS different there.  And so is pretty much everything else.  Those who've been there surely understand.  They are the ones to whom I cleave right now.  For comfort, yes, but also some assurance that what I experienced wasn't my imagination.  Taos is a thin place that can fill your heart to bursting and then leave you limp and raw.  It's a powerful place with little tolerance for anyone's ego.  Karma there can be a mighty swift bitch.  Soft mornings like the one captured above, where the mountains lay bare to the caress of rolling clouds as the sun rises above them, are solemnly viewed from boundaries that must not be trespassed.  There is devastating beauty all around.  Light and dark.  Hot and cold.  Bounty and lack.  That which is dying.  That which is bone dry.  It's all there (and more) to be witnessed, explored, and maybe even embraced.  Resistance is futile.  No one leaves there untouched, unchanged.  I will be back.  I can't resist.  And for that I am so grateful.

Taos Bound

After many months of counting down, it's time.  Headed back to Taos.  To Mabel's.  To draw.  To write.  To commune with kindred spirits.  The veil is thin there, but the rich history is thick.  Nourishment and beauty abound.  I plan to fill myself to overflowing.

I wish I could promise you that I will be sharing bits of the journey in this space while I take it.  But last year I couldn't even find the words to share about it when I got back.  So check back over the next week or so if you'd like and let's just see how it goes.

And, yes, by the way, I'm immensely grateful.

Day 17,043: Between Now and Then

I was surprised to discover that it has been ten days since my last post.  I could swear that I had checked in here, albeit briefly, between now and then.  Obviously, I was checked out instead.

For those who haven't been through it, the feelings around this rite of passage are difficult to explain.  It's felt a lot like coming home from the hospital with the wee bundle of her in my arms.  The similarities have surprised me.  The life I knew up until the week before last is over and a new one has begun.  I am no longer the parent of a school-aged child.  I am feeling fumbly and uncertain, yet deeply in love and awe each time I look at my graduate.  Feeling so blessed for the good fortune of being her mama.  Feeling so inept at recognizing the signs of what she needs from me in the face of all the changes as she prepares to fly from our nest.  Leaning on girlfriends who've been through it ... doulas in their own way.

This fresh chapter will change, yet again, when we deliver her to college in a few fleeting weeks.  Between now and then, there is travel to take and art to make (as there will be, perhaps exponentially, thereafter).  But for now, I'm circling the wagons to protect our family time and give us a safe space to figure out these new terms.  I'm also assessing where and how I can do better with regard to self care.  In many ways, in my recent busy-ness, I've let my well go bone dry.  Despite the beautiful weather, walks outside have been few and far between.  Nourishment has been replaced by the fastest fix.  (Instant coffee anyone?  A donut with that, perhaps?  Maybe two?  Oh the shame.)  Art of any kind has been more miss than hit.  Thankfully, I know these things (among others) keep my boat afloat and I have the good sense to eventually come back around to them.

This is the week for such.  And for that (and all of the above), I am so very grateful.