It’s time I admitted something about magic. Something I’ve kept hidden, because I thought maybe I’d be misunderstood (worst feeling ever), or be laughed at, or given the look that even I reserve for things that are just ‘a bit too woo.’ I may lose or ruffle some of you here, but that’s okay. It’s […]
I've got a juicy little tidbit for you this week (well, little is relative – it's a good long share). As I was doing some behind-the-scenes preparation for the upcoming retreat, I needed to comb through some old Nurture Google docs. It took me waaayyy back to when Nurture first started and was still operating under my personal email address. While in the archives, I stumbled across an 'archeological specimen' I think you might enjoy. It is a journal entry I wrote to myself from a place of personal darkness and creative stagnancy, PRE-NURTURE.
Little did back-then me know that a mere 6 days later (!!!), I would fatefully meet a stranger – the woman whose off-handed comment unknowingly changed my life.
She gifted me with these magical words: “Well, Sonja, I don't have a magic wand to give you a farmhouse, but I DO have an idea. You should take your love of food, creativity and self care and combine them into a weekend retreat and rent a farmhouse for a few days!” This website is a good indicator of what happened from there, which is nothing short of magic (oh, and also a lot of hard work. That too.)
I have been examining a lot of backends lately. No, not that kind (although I did walk behind a man in a suit recently who made me believe wholeheartedly in the effectiveness of tailoring). I mean the behind-the-scenes of my finances, my daily systems, my online presence and my thoughts. Believe me when I say that sometimes these areas are ones that I happily shove under the proverbial rug and do a lot of the mental equivalent of blocking my ears and saying lalalalala loudly, hoping all will simply sort itself out. When I do that, it's because I'm afraid of what I will find there. Usually, I'm afraid I will find Shame. Yes, that old friend; frequent guest of my credit card bill, unswept kitchen corners, and deeply grooved beliefs it holds onto like a binky.
I have thrown myself at my fair share of metabolic fires lately, especially in this past half year. After years of staleness and stagnation and stubborness, something in me finally clicked and I was like: no more.
I figured it was high time I met myself and learned to love what I found there and not settle for anything less than love in return.
I'm writing you this post, very late at night, past my bedtime actually, mere moments after slaying a personal dragon. I'm finding it a bit difficult to put words on the page, because I'm still basking in the afterglow – that very particular lightness of being that occurs when you act in discord with your past and in perfect harmony with your soul and the future it desires. I told my soul it could go frolic in my mind field all it wants as long as it doesn't bother me while I write. When I'm happy, I don't tend to express it very largely, but I do have a field in my mind where my soul does things I would never do in real life, like somersaults, backflips and Maria von Trapp “The Hills are Alive” twirls. That's what it's doing right now as I type.
I recently sat across from a good friend who is the type of person who can rock a grandpa sweater and somehow have it be both sexy and playfully ironic. (Pause: HOW?!). His heart is solid gold, his demeanor warmest-of-warm and his talents would leave anyone gobsmacked yet he goes about his humble way, truly caring for each soul he encounters. He's a gem, and I consider myself lucky to be able to spill what's on my mind about what's going on in my life. On this particular occasion I fiddled absentmindedly with whatever was in my hands, telling him about recent developments in my personal and professional life and talked about how being with the unknown – all this new territory – can be so exciting and scary.
His advice? “Play it cool.”
