Make piles of screws and nails.
Of course I knew then, as we all do, there will be heavy machinery that will plow through the aftermath but the eye trained on the small treasures will turn towards the ashes, get low to the ground look for screws and nails, as in
"Focus on the little things that will help you rebuild."
Find the surviving garden gnome and, in the silence that follows mourning wildlife and places of long held memory, put these little things as a symbol that which endures, for the wild flowers that will bloom, for the now germinated seeds of forest that, laying in wait for the heat, sprouts life.
And yourself, stooped and surveying years of work ahead, will also become a symbol of community, humanity, that continues to love, grow, give, sing, and celebrate. In the years that follow, you will watch life return, not only to your own heart, but to those around you.
In the end the surrender of old memories, will birth and everything will be made new again.
Since I've stopped traveling and come to a stop, with the dust settling behind me, I have surveyed what is left of the life I had before I began. I think about the nearly two decades of backpacking I spent walking 12-14 hours a day. In what direction?
"I always knew my heart would guide my feet in the direction where my vibration would be needed even if I didn't understand why I was there," one of my best friend Mags says about the journey.
This she says in response to my questioning my lone path, the many people, places and things I have lost along the way, some in give away more than I have generosity, some in "three moves is a fire," and some lost in true Thunderbird will not put up with that kind of behavior style.
For the latter, I find myself standing up out of the ashes of my life and the many choices I have made to follow the way for me. Close to the ground and the little things, I catch myself searching for nails and screws.
What are the little things that remain to put myself and my life, pre-27 year old Saturn return travel cycle Apache vision quest initiation back together?
The life of living in a 7 mile radius and never leaving for years. The life of a teacher who touches the lives of at-risk teens who have no adults guiding them into the lives they are seeking. The life of a woman innocent and still believing in forever love, faith in an active force moving through me and guiding me to lakes, forests and tress.
This me, even those who knew me then, have to really focus to remember.
I am focusing to remember. Recovering from the quest for infinite potentiality. Infinite me's. Infinite loves. Infinite fantastical dreams. Infinite crafts and talents. Infinity, as in, never ending rabbit holes.
True power lies in one love.
One you. The complete version, as opposed to the characature in the jungle. One place, as in funnel your energy into home community.
Visit potentiality, but safeguard what is true.
This I realize after trying to move to Maui to be with my much younger boyfriend. My youngest nephew calls, he is seeking adult influence during a transition and almost jumps on a plane. For him, I leave. for myself, knowing that I will never find true peace if it doesn't exist in my family.
I keep this and my deep felt responsibility for family in my heart and make a new life closer to him and his now thriving family. I cut off social media when a group of women laugh at my not being able to make Maui life last.
"We all talked about it and knew you wouldn't last."
I hear this, and my private life becomes profound. As in Huna style keep secret like a seed under ground, show people only the flower. I realize not everyone is praying for my success. I realize that putting my whole life for all to see elicits all responses. How affected are each of us by the thoughts people have when looking at our pictures, discussing our lives? I believe more than we realize, after all people charge money for distance reiki, that is someone to conjure a picture of us in the mind and send thoughts which are energy our way.
So much of my life is still private. Glimpses, yes. All the details, all the precious finds from the ashes of my life, those are for me and my closest loved ones. The ones who call and talk voices to voices. The ones who visit, sit face to face.
Connection is not an idea. It takes time, shared memories, something I didn't always have to settle grievances in a timely manner. Small things become big. Biggest lesson of the cedar bag. Heal relations. Say what is true in your heart. Allow misperceptions and injury to be cleared. Allow love to enter into all your spaces.
I finally have my own space. It's not temporary. It's my home.
I pass through anxiety about losing it. I pass through anxiety of people trying to take it. I pass through the anxiety that there will be those who don't believe I deserve it. I pass through the sitting in it alone after years of seeking home with partners.
I tell my friend who’s house I rent. She wells with tears as she expresses how happy she is I am home, how much she appreciates the work I’ve done, and how the work I’m doing on the house is a blessing. I feel loved, safe, welcomed, wanted. I pray to be surrounded by more friends like her.
I fall asleep. Deeply asleep for a month after assisting my nephew with his new baby. I'm a great aunt. Somehow the first generation under me made it to adulthood and generations move forward. I find peace, like paradise after Armageddon. Everything gets quiet.
I start social media up again after finding it difficult to navigate community events. I realize that technology is so prolific that I am in social isolation. I hear a song by Steve Gold, "Isolation wears an ugly face." I realize that I used to think of Facebook as a form of isolating ourselves from direct personal contact, but I am out of a loop, or should I say newsfeed, and many people have broken dependency to tool status. Still 500 likes is not equal to one phone call or cup of tea.
These I offer to friends.
Can I protect myself this round from self-consciousness, anxiety and fear over my truths and writings, from those who compare and seek not the best but the holes, the fragility, the vulnerability, the humanity. It is there to be sure. I can assure myself and others of that. I never have proclaimed to have the answers. Just a mind full of never stop asking questions, an educators view of the world, produce your own content. As in higher order thinking skill, aka think for yourself.
My gratitude smiles fills my heart with laughter, a thing I do even when I'm nervous and always at what would be considered "inappropriate" times. Buddha, you right, we funny.
People who come to me will find that I give less advice, sometimes a channelled word, but mostly a yep been there done that life goes on sometimes we get it right listening ear and lots of love flowing from my hands.
Focus on the life I have now.
Reactivated. So many friends and acquaintances. Life has moved along. Children aren't babies, they are in college. I find myself on there. I visit my albums. Some pictures are missing. First round breakups, I never could delete them all because I know I wasn't in those moments alone. To erase them is to have giant holes and forgotten memories keepers burned in the fire. Forgotten forever. Perhaps this would be best, but for the lovers I no longer stay in contact with, I cherish the energy they have birthed inside of me, the memories that make up the tapestry of the story of my life, the keys to love I have learned. One of which is, STAY.
I remember talking to two lovers at the resort where I lived after another relationship burned to the ground, not out of flakiness but out of a calling to serve 300-500 people a season in the jungle, to financially rebuild my life and the younger generations, and be allowed (by the loving family I have in Mexico) to become my whole self. They tell me, the next time you are really in love, don't leave, no matter what.
Really in love with a place, with your life, a full realization that you could never trade in for anything better. This isn’t infinite potential, it’s real. This is it. It’s not perfect, just yours. You are in love and your brains, the thinking that spirals you out, have fallen out of your head like the double rainbow on mushrooms day in kalalau Kenny’s 32 birthday.
Love is staying. Staying in love is practice. Practice is cherishing. Cherishing is holding close. I remember reading a quote, "I knew that if anyone was going to take me seriously, I had to slow down."
Slow. The speed of searching through the rubble for the little nails and screws that you can easily rebuy, but these ones, they actually held your house together. They are special. Everything isn't gone, you are still there to discover them. Will you find them all? Will you really do this for the whole property? No, if by chance you even started, you will give up. Maybe you will pick up one or two and, then, see that cleanup is bigger than this, and let go. You'll never be able to save what little things are left.
Surrender the past and everything associated with it.
Start over. Let ash piles burn to fine dust. Unpack the ancestral momentos you saved from the flames, they are the most important part of your story.
Rebuild with new love, no memories from past holding back your future forward growth. Find more strength than you knew and burst your heart open wide to tears to laughter, to feeling and let life overtake you with her magical ability to go on, to thrive, to refill your life with everything you lost, in a new form.
This we call resurrection.