Category: Words in Sentences

I’m convinced you might not fully know somebody until you have seen them with hedge trimmers.

…Matter of fact, you may not fully know yourself until you have seen yourself with hedge trimmers….

Though we likely are not starting a landscape business anytime soon, we indeed had our way with some overgrown shrubs, trees, bushes, etc.

It all started with me wanting to clear out a pad for a little fern + silver heart + begonia garden. Hours later, we had scuffle hoe’d the heck out of what is now set up to be a sweet shade garden complete with a stone bench, European smoke bush and snowball climbing hydrangeas.

The back of the truck is packed with limbs and David and I are sitting on the front deck. “I like having two houses…” he just said to me.

I thought the same thing this morning. As we were pulling things out and I was checking out the fungus on this tree, right where the trunk was begging me to put some violets, I thought “I can’t wait to go and see my ferns at Webster… curious what has grown…”

As David was trimming this bush with full artistic abandon, I couldn’t help but laugh.

Trimming hedges gives you the opportunity to taste the freedom of not over thinking yet, also, feel compelled by the idea of what might be a little bit better if thought about *for just a moment*?

I took over the trimmer out of pure curiosity and relished in the hilarity of all the ideas: I could make this bush into a shape… how about a “C”…. why not our initials… sharing with David, laughing at our reckless landscaping that was making everything look better… touched, at least… seen.

The fall seems the same way to me: schools still distance learning? What’s best for each kid? What will travel look like and feel like? What does each house look like in its ability to comfort and house 7 people at once?

For as far as I can see, we have two houses in two places. Two gardens and two front doors. Two fridges that need milk, eggs and ribeyes and two master bedrooms where we both want to be at the same time.

It means double the thought (at least more than we put into this sorry ass shrub in our front yard) but it also means double the opportunity and ideas.

All to explore, together, for sure. 

Dedicated to Julie, Jackie and Emily.

As a people person, I relish in connection. When my invitations to dinner bring people around the same table for the first time, yes.

When I think it is the first time and I hear “no, actually – we met before at that thing – at that party – at the market… you introduced us”, for sure.

But more than anything – I love when connection happens because of a different kind of invitation.

This different kind of invitation is a blend of willingness to try, willingness to ask and willingness to pay attention. It is an invitation to yourself that includes others. A precious kind of invite.

I simply must capture my experience this morning.

But first, a little context…

It is without doubt that my heart and my energetic world have been worked during the pandemic. Yet, even as I grieve and push through my things, I have my Target dates – the treasure of time at home, the privilege of social distancing, the opportunity for scenery changes – to show me continual silver linings.

I am experiencing a lot of blessing even in these “uncertain times”. Matter of fact, the degree to which things are uncertain tremendously graces the flux of this marriage season.

Being in the PNW for May is offering me space for a daily yoga practice and has opened margin for writing. This space and this margin inherently come with an invitation to myself to try a daily yoga practice, to be willing to journal this season. And, because I am continually praying for the fold of my circle, consideration of my people, along with the priority of my new tribe; the invitation to myself includes others.

So, today, I reached out to Julie who is sitting with heartbreak and holding space for pain daily. Who, though she may be experiencing similar silver linings in her own home, is also experiencing the not so similar under-linings in the homes of her families, whose communities are being rocked by COVID-19 and bit by virtual memorials.

I asked her how I could support her energetically today. Her answer, “Wisdom + Skill on navigating all the space I am holding”.

I told her I would dedicate my practice to her.

In the early moments of Jackie’s class, (btw – you should take one) Jackie offered to the class to dedicate your practice to somebody beyond you.

I smiled.

This is the connection that comes from the invitation to self that includes others.

That is willing to practice and pray and write and – in that intention – reaches out to a friend because you love them and that takes the role of student to a friend because you love them.

Jackie is warm, earthy and kind – Julie is raw, honest and fierce.

Then I remembered my sister, Emily. Principal of two schools in the city, she cannot hug my mother because of her daily food service to families. She is on frontlines of education + community + COVID.

Practice began and I smiled when we used Kali Mudra throughout practice. Kali… that dear transforming goddess who slays darkness, who takes the initial evolutionary step to light.

Then, something kind of funny happened, Jackie’s pace for breathing was quick and I found myself trailing by two breaths. I actually thought “I wonder if Jackie knows she cues fast, maybe I’ll send her a note”.

“Hey, Erin…” I said to myself, “You are a restorative teacher who – at max – does slow flow. Remember vinyasa classes? Remember that first vinyasa class you ever took? Maybe even your first ever yoga class that summer day in Michigan when you had an NDE? This is work. Breathe. Find your full, quick breaths.”

(I imagine Julie tickled by this, as a standard anchor in our understanding of each other is how she works harder than me, in her pursuits.)

How symbolic, yes? The ease of my quarantine to the effort of Julie’s and Julie’s families.

The silver lining of my cancelled wedding, to the heartbreak of deaths from this illness.

And – low and behold – I found my stride in my practice. When I realized “yes, this is work”, that I could stop, but that I would pick up the pace – in energetic solidarity to Julie and Emily. To people whose efforts know few, if any, immediate luxuries.

There was a flow towards the end that felt pretty and graceful, almost dance like. Which made me smile and think about creative freedom for Julie, that she taps into her party spirit.

And just as I thought – wow – this practice got really Julie focused, the playlist Jackie recommended kicked on some Enya.

Enya: The background music of Emily’s college years, of our roadtrips together. Every tone of every Enya song reminds me of Emily and I just started to cry during the last flow.

As Jackie cue’d us in svasana to bring back the person we dedicated our practice to – to feel the strength and the calm we conjured in our practice and send it to them; I realized what I conjured was not exactly strength and calm though I did feel the benefits of my practice.

But I especially felt shared heartbreak and exhaustion – along with the realization that I had the option to quit my yoga practice because it was hard but they can’t quit what they are doing and that’s hard so, “gosh Erin, breathe and flow.”

So… I laid on my back – more in energetic solidarity than ever – and sent them the sentiment of being seen.

Jackie said something along the lines of, “…what you send out, only doubles, and it reflects back on you – send your strength, let it double, and know you have that strength and more”.

And I laid there… feeling really seen.

Yesterday, for home school, I took Kara and Maddox across to Whatcom Falls Park. Just to walk, try to find the baby ducks we saw the other day, and to hunt for both yellow and fuzzy dandelions. For Kara to practice making a Daisy Crown and for Maddox to “wish Coronavirus goes away tomorrow”.

As we ventured in on a trail, Kara took us off path right away. After helping her brother down to the water, their curiosity about the rocks and the water grew. They started a little bit of a hunt, after Kara found this orangish amber stone (something that resembled a metaphysical gift shop find).

The space they first went down to was tight, so it didn’t take long for them to hop up and over the muddy ridge and keep walking. A few paces and Kara found us a shoreline.

They got into “the stoop”, looking through half dollar sized rocks but my eyes caught on the creek bed at some others… palm sized… orange sized… irregular and PNW colorful.. stones.

Soon enough, we were all barefoot and in the chilly water grabbing for rocks. I felt my mom’s maternal and Kindergarten teacher blood in my veins as each find was applauded, ohhh’d over and put “in the keeper” pile.

At one point I heard myself saying, “you can always wash your bod and you can always wash your clothes, so don’t let that stop you from having fun.” And recalled this one time my childhood best friend and I played in a soft rain, in the mud of her neighborhood’s new development for hours – being completely free to be a complete mess.

As simple as the conversation was on the outside, my internal conversation grew complex. Kind, but complex.

I reflected on whether Ellen and Lucy had this kind of experience growing up, wanting them with us. Yes, St. Augustine – yes, Malibu – yes, Colorado mud on the rental Mustang. And even, in St Louis, on a creek hike we took…

Oh yes, and there were nature walks with my Grandma … like the one right before she finally got a cane, where I caught her in an off balance moment and Ellen stood wide-eyed; aware of the nature of things.

I thought about the joy Kara and Maddox were experiencing and how my willingness, as a mothering / child guide, to sit and let them do whatever ushered it in. I reflected on my role in their life. I thought about cities, houses and moves.

I became unconvinced, convinced myself again, and then again experienced unconvincing.

Needless to say, we found a pastime to begin. We know what we need in our kit for our next hunt. We know how nice a warm shower feels to wash off the clay on our skin – noses and toes.

I peeled potatoes and put beans in the oven, sat out the fish and started roasting some veggies. The sun through the kitchen window and Avett Brothers on the Google Home settled me in to make dinner.

It is common to hear me say, “I want to guard against a spirit of convincing.” Because I believe the minute I feel that edge to sway, I am missing something. Or I may be missing something.

So I tossed out the projected grief I started to carry that was associated with nearly every logistical idea that exists for our lives. And reminded myself to guard against the spirit of convincing and pay attention.

All I needed to do tonight was peel potatoes.

All I need to focus on this week with David is the lullaby we started writing the other night.

All I wanted was to see all the rocks on the fireplace ledge and get supplies to start my next project in the house.