Category: Words in Sentences

Flipped open to a random page at some point during or after a virtual class from Om Ananda based out of Fort Collins, CO.

Psalm 101:6-7 interpreted by me, the Erin Elise Rendition

“….. the faithful exist in their own skin, with divine radical supernatural self acceptance.

The person who walks honestly, serves with that honesty.

The person who [works deceit] shall not be safe from the external world –

Is without deep, internal comfort –

And cannot simply exist in their own skin, with divine radical supernatural self acceptance.

iF you are not honest in your living –

In who you are, in what you want or don’t want.

If you say “yes” when you mean no or “no” when you mean yes, you won’t feel the beauty of being truly alive.

You won’t have the same appreciation that is possible when your eyes are open to tiny, realistic miracles. You will miss the way storylines unfold and unveil newness, perspective.”

Still working on “works deceit”. Not sure if I think it’s about profit or eagerness or active living without a truth about who you are.

Still working through what it means for “my eyes shall be on the faithful”…

Makes me want to ask Milta what she gets from this Psalm, or my Dad!

Ok – here’s the prayer:

So, God, I don’t fully know what it means for your eyes to be on me. Does it mean you will see me and reveal to me more truth? Does it mean you will bless my touch and the things I do with intention? Will you make my conversation more salty, seasoned and ready for any?

Whatever it is, I want to exist in my own skin, radically accepting ever part of myself. I believe this will help me offer that same space to others.

I invite a spirit to nudge me and remember to be still so that I can align with where I am each day. I invite a spirit to nudge me to be honest and I pray for those who may be served and who may grow, feel loved by my honesty.

I value the comfort of not being attached to this physical world. I value my emotions and the painful experiences, the hard things, and the reminder of something bigger, the perspective I get when I feel them and experience them.

I pray for my understanding of “work”, “working through” to evolve.

I am grateful for the instruction to say “yes” when I mean “yes” and “no” when I mean “no”. It makes some things so much easier to discern. And I love trusting that even if my no hurts or causes painful experience through my truth – or if my yes does – that that is the way storylines unfold.

I like the little ways I notice possibilities. And I am grateful for new perspective.

Be with the people I love in this same sentiment. That they feel empowered to live true to themselves.

See you later.

I hear my future husband tuning his guitar. When I started this post, I was about to get in the shower after a breezy drive through Idaho (never been, beautiful and other worldly, my God), into and up Washington, landing in 63 degree sunshine. I felt my honey’s battery change to having a little lightning bolt on it. And I proceeded with unloading the truck and opening up the house.

I emptied my beloved cooler, cleaned out the fridge to its bones, wiped down the shelves – paid attention to the plants – goal: reset the kitchen for the month ahead.

David, my teammate, cleaned toilets, was in the yard, and switching switching and again switching the laundry.

It feels good to be here. It feels good to be somewhere different while the country flirts with re-opening. It feels good to get a little anxiety and then let the pine trees and sun heal it.

It feels good to see the blues and grays of the bay and it seem a little normal: less like a treasure and more like a rocking chair.

I plan on doing some physical healing and gut recovery in May. I plan on writing and listening while I work and plan our new family.

Plan our vows.

But most of all? I’m just planning on learning myself in this new season of further entering the cocoon in the PNW backdrop of adventure, engagement and the smell of the facial cleanser I bought in Denver en route here in the fall… with the lavender body wash David bought me in the summer after I played in the dirt in the backyard.

This is my real life. I’m in my real life. It’s beyond me.

I’ll be honest – I am quite proud of my ability to quickly sort and make up a cooler bag like a puzzle that will provide for an efficient on the road food service.

Matter of fact, not only am I proud of it – I *enjoy it thoroughly*. I’ll think about what I’m going to specialize in the next day (Nutella Graham Cracker sandwiches? Pepperoni tortillas? PBJ with Pringle’s?) when falling asleep.

I’ll consider what I may need to serve… like, “let’s do a layered meal with a little candy at the bottom of a red solo cup, a napkin layer, a Pringle’s and Clementine layer, then the sandwich on top…”

Utensils, equipment, baggies, wipes. It’s *so fun*. And here’s what I love most – today, when inventorying the cooler bag that sits at my feet, I found a little gem of decorative tape next to a roll of ziplock bags that have been in it since my cousin, Heidi, first helped me pack up the bag for its inaugural roadtrip from Sacramento to StL (thru Park City and Fort Collins and Manhattan, KS).

It made me smile. The red solo cups a random offering from my mom, probably thinking more of dishes at home then serving in the truck. The knowing of this tape, just in case. The convenience of the ziploc for the pre-filtered coffee we actually enjoyed at the Lodge so it was packed for necessity of bad coffee in a future hotel. The intention of picking up towelettes, wipes, stirring sticks as I come across them make this cooler bag my kit, my offering.

I’m not being soft or silly, I am genuinely feeling this Ninja move maternal mindset. (Maddox says, “you sure do got a lot of tricks in that bag.”)

And – as David rounds day four of doing all the driving, with his observation and focus. I round day four of tending and feeding. our first roadtrip, I struggled a little not driving at all and now I realize our partnership in these roles. David, Truck, Erin, Cooler.

And on a metamorphosis note, the Lewis and Clark explorer nature of picking up experience and tools (rocks that work for sharpening, the perfect stick for walking, this thing that may be useful later) that is part of what I’m proud of is morphing from where it starts: maternal to this now wifely idea.

See, I’m not mothering him when I hand him a wipe for his face or a napkin or wrapping his PBJ in a napkin; I am loving my partner.