grapefruit jam

April 3, 2016 By gwynyth

Strength in Numbers

Last week I grabbed my notebook, kissed my honeys goodbye and headed out to meet with a few writerly friends. It’s only the second time we’ve done this and I’m already feeling bolstered by this monthly practice.

Mr. Awesome, though willing and ready to take over the parenting reins, was a bit mystified by the plan.

So…what are you guys going to do?

Write. We are going to sit together at a cafe table and write quietly beside each other.

He may have arched an affectionate eyebrow. I get it, the man’s practical. Why drive to another part of town to do what I could do at home? I have my computer, notebook, coffee and imagination handy right here.

You know what else I have here? Laundry piles. Dishes. Dust bunnies. Adorable people with no volume control. People who don’t see a closed door as a boundary not to cross or knock against. That annoying, echoing voice of judgement and resistance in my head.

Whereas together at the cafe, there is a forcefield of commitment, camaraderie and encouragement around our table. Plus giant scones…that helps too.

There is the relief of writerly talk. The acknowledgement that we are not crazy or alone in hearing aforementioned voices, in the blocks we put up for ourselves, in the real life – real time challenges of scratching out a creative life amidst our motherly ones (say…missing a self imposed deadline due to your child’s head colliding with their friend’s tooth…).

There is the added motivation that we are tying our pursuits to a commitment to others. A commitment that for now at least, is easier to keep than one to ourselves.

It’s like yoga, I could practice at home but it’s not likely I’ll stop half way through to eat a donut or change a diaper if I’m at a studio.

I could go to a cafe alone, but I’ll probably look around, check my phone and eavesdrop for research more than if I’m checked by a group of friends with heads down and pens quickly moving. It’s just the right kind of peer pressure.

I see this ritual as a guidepost keeping us all on track while we aren’t together. Rather than distracting from the actual work, this monthly check in sharpens our resolve to stay on the path.

I throw my thoughts about writing on this blog amidst life and mothering rambles, with the hope of creating that forcefield of encouragement and community around a broader circle. A reassurance, to myself and anyone else fitting these pieces of life together, that we’re in good company. To celebrate the satisfaction of commitment to our projects and ourselves, the joy and frustration of the journey and the friendship that comes from sharing in these together.

There is this image of tormented isolation we attach to our idea of serious creators, but I say call in your tribe and you’re more likely to stay in your strength.

***

I want to know! What are you working on? Are you flowing along and wanting to shout out your elation to the world? Are you feeling stuck, crunched for time or too exhausted to a lift a pen/camera/paintbrush?

Grab a coffee/tea/giant scone and tell me all about it in the comments!

March 26, 2016 By gwynyth

Light Cycles and Shadow Scales

We’ve been studying ancient mythologies this year in our homeschool. It’s been fascinating to see all the threads that cross over cultures and histories: creation stories, flood and drought stories, hero’s journeys and the contrasting forces of darkness and light. We’ve just planted down into ancient Persia with a tale of Ahura-Mazda and Ahriman. Ahura-Mazda is the god of light, warmth, wholesomeness and truth. Ahriman is the lord of darkness, cold, deceit and evil. A polarizing theme present in every good story.

As we talked about what light and dark represented, I asked my older guys if there wasn’t some grey area in between. Did they think cold and dark were evils that light and warmth needed to push away? In some cases yes, but we also discussed the importance of the dark-the necessity of shadow to bring life and meaning to the light.

By the way, philosophizing with ten and seven year olds? Possibly my favourite part of homeschooling.

With the return of spring it’s a timely contemplation, one I often need to revisit. The death and re-birth cycle of the seasons, of ourselves and our creativity is important to accept. Whatever the current struggle, we need to hold onto the promise that the darkness is preparing us for the light that is always ahead.

In creative life, there are times of expansion- days, weeks, possibly months when we feel on fire, our lives blazing forward. And there are those other times…when we feel like we’ve entered the deep dark woods on a moonless night. When every root along the path makes us stumble. When there is barely an ember of drive stoking our creative fire, when it all feels like a memory we can barely recall.

For me, there are times when the “darkness” is the next step. The fine tuning, the editing, getting work out into the world. This is another state of creativity entirely. The free abandon of the creative process is over. Now there is this rosy-cheeked heap at my feet, exhausted and happy, ready to pass the baton. This is the part where I often stall. The part that feels cold and hard.

After hanging out for awhile in the sunny stage with ears plugged and eyes closed to natural balance, I’ve accumulated drafts that need that extra stretch in the woods to see them over to the next patch of light. So as we enter into a new season of longer days and warm sun, I’ll bow to the lengths of shadow that show up across green fields and twinkly lakes. I’ll take their strength along with me knowing I can’t create anything whole without them.

***

How about you? Where are you embracing shadow in your life?

March 23, 2016 By gwynyth

In Which We Travel to Costa Rica and I Become a Jar of Coconut Oil

Costa Rica has long been on my dream trip list. I’ve been spying on the lush green jungle and kooky animals online and thinking about how cool it would be to show my kids such a different world for years. Maybe thats why, when we arrived a few weeks ago, I expected to land and instantly feel the sense of arrival one gets when returning home.

With two weeks to visit I wanted to assimilate immediately to maximize our time there, and dang it, I wanted my family to get on board! After a night’s rest in San Jose, we spent our first day driving through mountains and plantations on our way to the Caribbean coast. It was an amazing opportunity to see part of the country before putting down our roots in one spot for the rest of the trip.

*Side note: There are so many amazing places to travel to in Costa Rica, the choice can become overwhelming. Ultimately we knew we didn’t want to spend a ton of time in a car with four kids so we chose Punta Uva for its sheltered, warm and relatively calm waters on the recommendation of friends.

The first few days I struggled with my desire to figure out all the spots, get a routine down and be fully immersed in the easy breezy beach vibe of this little town. My deeply imbedded hurry-up pulse of the city was in conflict with knowing that I just wanted to melt into this place, linger wherever we found ourselves and not worry if the best places were around the corner waiting.

Thankfully, my family is here to teach me always.

My kids could not handle more than a few hours out before wanting to lounge back at the house for the rest of the day. I can’t tell you how many times I reminded them that we were in COSTA RICA, that swimming pools are not absent in our own city but cacao trees, monkeys and warm oceans are. This didn’t sway their sunned out stance.

I was grateful to be whisked off for an afternoon by a friend, to a cacao ceremony and women’s circle. There I could disconnect from the energy of tired hot kids and my fidgety self and settle into a magical vortex of tradition and centring. We meditated in an wall-less canopy living room, hearts open with raw cacao, the sounds and humidity of the jungle working their way into me. I left with the high of beginnings and the cozyness of softening.

I’d like to say I was all love and light and flow from there on in, but I still had this nagging impulse to get my family out as much as possible. I’m talking beach early, rest and beach later. Or adventure, rest then beach. I’m not totally crazy-I do realize that we can’t do epic all day extreme adventures with little kids in tow. They kept resisting though, and promises of ice cream had to get thrown into the mix.

Then the baby got a fever and while my family, sloth like (see they assimilated very well actually), prepared for a leisurely hike to the jaguar rescue centre, I I plopped myself in bed to nurse all day, content to gaze out the patio doors so long as my littlest would be comfortable and get the healing rest he needed.

Oh universe, you keep throwing this message at me and I keep trying to evade it. I keep chasing and worrying I’ll be late and you keep slowing me down, stopping me in my tracks hoping I will open up enough to let the lesson in.

It’s in these moments of suspended time — of napping under an almond tree at the beach, of placing my hand on the roots of a giant jungle tree, when lying in meditation at the mercy of someone else to watch the time, laying up in bed with a feverish babe, in letting my people get ready in their own time, miraculously still arriving “in time”-that I melt like that once solid jar of coconut oil we brought along with us. That I feel that wave of home wash over me.

And just like the coconut oil, I know that this liquid state is not necessarily permanent. I’m liable to solidify and melt over and over but it’s comforting to know the potential to soften is always there.

« Previous Page