August Haze

The summer is thick and syrupy right now. Humidity drips from the trees, and there’s a heaviness to the jungle air, which dropping down to the ocean relieves.

August has come with a density of energy, which both stills and quickens a deepening sense of mystery.

July passed in a blink.

I’m not entirely sure where the month went, except to say I find the creative process circumvoluted where a moment can feel like days and days can pass in a moment, and somewhere in the middle of all of that new words, ideas, and creations spring forth.

And to be fair, July was also painted with grief over the loss of our sweet old dog Sam. Grief’s undertow has a way of taking you down the river to places you didn’t expect to go. It can take a while to swim upstream and get back on track.

Or to let the water carry you until you find yourself washed out and up onto new ground and you find a new track.

It occurred to me the other day that I think I’ve been reorienting myself and finding a new track since the day my brother died.

Brent was the catalyst for pulling up all my roots in Alaska and transplanting to Kauai, and though I think I would have still made this move eventually, I can say with certitude that losing him pushed me to do it Now.

And not wait until Later.

And here I am Now. It’s been a little over a year, and as I take in the whole of the year, there’s reflections and lessons and learnings I couldn’t see in the middle.

But I can see them now.

Like gazing at individual stars verses widening your gaze and taking in an entire constellation; we can’t always see the bigger picture when we’re focusing on the smaller pieces; there is value to be found in both perspectives.

I’ve spent a lot of this past year retrieving, collecting, and actualizing new pieces. There wasn’t much space for them in my Anchorage life, there is here. It’s been a process both exhausting and exhilarating; it is a process that is still ongoing.

But having passed the year mark, I’m better able to see a fuller picture of what those pieces are building, and it’s really just a fuller picture of self with more room for all parts of me.

A deeper understanding of home.

A deeper appreciation for my life and a wiser understanding of how losing Brent inextricably changed me and set me on a life path with more room for authenticity, magic, and love.

And an unmasked self who keeps learning in bigger and greater ways to stand strong in her gifts and power.

Becoming is a process. One in which we’ll be engaging our entire lives. There are no timelines or dead lines or any lines other than the lines of self you learn to trace as you learn to navigate your own map of you.

We will forever be a work in progress finding ourselves in bits and pieces, retrieving our truths along the way.

And I am grateful to be here, doing just that. Finding myself, going into my second year in Kauai, continuing to unmask and become – –

Stepping into a fuller self beneath the grace of these hazy August days.