Browsing Tag

beginnings

Leap and the net will appear

The one where I quit my job, buy a ticket, and turn 40.

October 27, 2014
Dominical sarongs

“Imagine a new story for your life and start living it.” – Paulo Coehlo

 

FlightsConfirmedTwo weeks ago I quit my job. Two days ago I turned 40. Yesterday we bought two tickets to Costa Rica. We leave in March.

Two years ago we were both really struggling. We were struggling with the fact that we both feel like aliens most of the time. We were struggling with the fact that life does not give any guarantees on length, and that the happiest we feel is when we are exploring somewhere together, but we only get to do that for a few weeks a year. We were struggling with the fact that those few weeks off limits the time we can spend with the people we love. We were struggling with the fact that – on paper – we have a nearly perfect life, but we both felt like it wasn’t our life.

One day I hit maximum capacity, and for me, the only cure for that is a walk in the woods. I took my troubles to the trees and had what I have started calling a ‘Come to Jesus’ meeting. I walked and talked – out loud – to God, the trees, the angels, my guides, my ancestors, anyone, really, who might be there and able to help. The land I was walking on is the land where my Grandmother was born (more on that another time) and it takes about an hour to walk its longest trail. So I walked and I talked, and eventually the conversation became calmer and more focused. I went from desperate gulping words to a kind-of feeling/breathing. It all boiled down to one thing: I needed help. Any help.

I didn’t get an answer, but I came home feeling peaceful and connected.

Ten minutes later I sat in our office, talking with my husband about what we could do. He laughingly said, “Just look up retreats for sale in the Caribbean.”

ha ha.

Turns out God uses Google.

I typed it in and got a whole website. I laughingly read out the names: “Dominican Republic, Barbados, Costa Rica.”

I stopped.

We looked at each other.

I haven’t really looked at any news reports for that day, but I am sure I would find an unidentified seismic blip.

The YES that hit both of us was quiet, calm, but powerful.  The yes that hit both of us, was the hell yes of: of course that is what we are going to do.

And then life happened. His Father died. We talked ourselves out of it. We agreed that it was crazy. We shelved it. We got on with more practical plans. But it never went away.

So last October as I was at the first Redfox retreat, he went to Costa Rica. (Because moving somewhere neither of you have ever been IS crazy… right?)

On the third night of the retreat, on the day before our wedding anniversary, we finally got to talk to each other.

I said that leading retreats and working with inspiring people felt like home.

He said that Costa Rica felt like home.

So there, in a corridor in a manor house in England and a pub in a jungle in Costa Rica, separated by thousands of miles, we both knew.

Another hell yes.

So we’re going.

Bought the tickets yesterday.

 

xo

fire

Inviting Hestia

August 7, 2014

” …hearthkeeping is a means through which a woman puts her self and her house in order.” – Jean Shinoda Bolen, Goddesses in Every Woman

 

fire meghan gengeWhen I wrote two weeks ago about going into the flames, I was fully committed to following the fire wherever it led me.

I should have known better.

Just before I began my research into the connection between women and fire, three different things happened. The first thing was a conversation between my husband and I as I stood in the kitchen, barely containing my rage. Why was I so angry? Because I was cooking.

I hate cooking. I hate doing the dishes. I even hate helping someone else in the kitchen. I have written about this before, but believe me when I say that this is real. When I have to do anything in the kitchen I seethe with resentment. I have been known to burst into frustrated tears over getting breakfast on the plate. Me in the kitchen is not a pretty thing.

So there I was, standing in the kitchen, up to my eyes in gluten free béchamel sauce and stuck-together gluten free lasagne noodles, on the verge of hysterical tears, and my long-suffering husband says, “You know you are going to have to deal with this at some point right?”

Very helpful.

The second thing happened the next morning when I got on the scale and found that even after almost 2 months doing the exercise program Insanity, I hadn’t lost a pound. Not one. (And yes, I realize that lasagne wasn’t the best choice on a diet – but still!)

The third thing happened only a few hours later. I opened the first book in my research pile and met Hestia.

Hestia: the first-born Olympian. Goddess of the hearth. Hestia was rarely personified. Her symbol and her presence was the hearth fire.  Hestia is domesticity, home-keeping and hearth-tending. In her book, Goddesses in Every Woman, Jean Shinoda Bolen says, “In order for a house to become a home, Hestia’s presence was required.”

I am about as far removed from Hestia as it is possible to be. If I was to choose an archetype to symbolise me, she would not be the obvious choice. But as I sat there, following my heart to the fire, I knew that I had to start somewhere I hadn’t expected. I knew I had to start with me.

If I want to lose weight, I have to take responsibility for my own nourishment. If I want to find a home, I have to create one. If I want to build a fire, I have to light the match.

Before I can gather women around a fire, I have to take responsibility for my own hearth.

Welcome, Hestia.  I’m ready.

xo

 

 

 

fire, sacred

Glowing Coals

July 21, 2014

Remember, you are not here to play it safe. You are here to start fires.Sera Beak

 

A few months ago I went with three friends to see a Shaman. In one of the sessions she referred to us as the four elements. Somehow we all instinctively knew exactly which one we were. As a Scorpio/ Wood Tiger, I am technically not a fire sign. But Fire resonated so deeply with me that day, I’ve not really been the same since.

Fire.

I have always been afraid of fire. My mother’s house burned down when she was a little girl, and somehow that must have made it into my psyche, because I slept with all of my most precious things (two stuffed animals and two rag dolls) clutched in my arms – so that if a fire broke out, I could save them. Shortly after we moved here, we had a very scary chimney fire. I am also responsible for fire safety where I work. Fire as a theme is very much a part of my life.

I have also been feeling the negative qualities of Fire: burnout. Much is changing in our lives, but I can’t talk about it on here yet, so I feel torn between the decisions we are making and living honestly. I’m working full time, trying to write, trying to move my body, trying to learn a new language, trying to keep up with friendships, trying to be healthy, watching my 40th approaching in a matter of months; burned out and dry and brittle would be the words I would use to describe the situation here.

But Fire. Fire isn’t leaving me alone. The voice I hear inside of me is insistent. Fire is asking me to know it. To reclaim it. To nurture and tend it. To allow it to burn away what is no longer necessary. Fire is asking me to gather women around it. Where my vision boards of the past have been full of whimsical, magical, sacred images – now they are fierce and full of fire.

And I am not alone. Today I opened up Unabashedly Female and found this by Julie Daley:

As I wait, I hear a voice inside, an insistent voice, a fiery voice that is clear about what she wants. Shake it off. Shake everything off that is not true. Strip me bare of everything that hides my nature, that hides who I really am, like concrete laid out in large archaic patches across Mother Earth, keeping her bound, her bosoms unable to rise and fall with those magnificent in-breaths and out-breaths she takes as she prepares meals for her children. -Julie Daley

Fire.

There is a part of me that is still very afraid. Going into the flames is not for the faint hearted, but On Fire feels so much more powerful than burned out.

I am ready.