on purpose.
one year later-grief's detour and how 'In The House Of Me' isn't done with me yet.
It’s been over 5 months since my last post, 6 months since I twirled my way through Portugal, 7 months since my Dad unexpectedly died and 12 months since my first book In The House Of Me was released into the world.
Some years blur in our memory, seasons where the day-to-day didn’t imprint on us in any particular way—and some years create continents within our internal landscape that we’ll spend years connecting to and recalibrating our inner compass towards in the pursuit of rehoming the meaning of our experience. The last twelve months have undoubtedly been the later kind of year for me.
I understand time as neither being for nor against us. Time is, perhaps, the neutral container of our experience and while our journey in this lifetime has both start and finish lines, holding recognizable moments that anchor to specific marks on our timelines, time herself is unconfined and unbothered, belonging to herself.
I spent last week with beloved friends exploring the beautiful homelands of the Maara’yam (Serrano), Nüwü (Chemehuevi), and Kawiya (Cahuilla) tribes, more commonly referred to as Joshua Tree, CA due to colonization. I’d previously spent time in Palm Springs which has a notable retro/swanky 60s-70s vibe and subculture, however had never ventured to her neighbor town, wrongfully assuming that Joshua Tree was a camp-ground/national park with interesting terrain and nothing more, and since I don’t camp (ha!), allowed that assumption to remain unexplored despite the fact that it’s only a 4.5hr drive from the desert I live in.
When my friends
, and floated options of where we could travel, it didn’t take long for Joshua Tree to summit the top of the list as 3/4 of us had never been. Once we arrived I was delightedly surprised to discover the terrain to be stunningly rugged, unpretentious and otherworldly in her beauty…but then again, of course she was. More often than not we discover magic just beyond the border of whatever mainstream culture attaches value to. Driving outside her little strip of thrift stores, family run businesses and grocery stores my body heard the language only land speaks —this was land that had retained ownership of herself despite the grab and grip of this world, Joshua Tree remains a wilderness to and of herself.Wilderness, wherever we encounter her, is always on purpose.
Wilderness is where we encounter parts of ourselves that have been exiled away—our wildness is the deeper underbelly which sustains our process, especially when overwhelmed by fatigue and/or self-doubt that homecoming is possible. I believe we’re able to receive each of their energies to the degree that we’ve embodied our stories, metabolized grief and alchemized trauma—I believe that it is impossible to do these things alone. I’ve yet to witness an embodied homecoming that does not, irrevocably include, detours into wilderness alongside the company of safe people.
On our second evening in Joshua Tree, over spicy margaritas at Kitchen In The Desert, dishes plated to perfection and a multitude of desserts, I asked my beloveds if there was a season of their lives they’d go back and relive for the sheer joy or pleasure of it. By candlelight fresh and previously unshared stories rolled off our tongues, interrupted by our laughter, shrieks and at times, tearful pauses—we witnessed parts of our histories that’d previously been unchartered, together.
One of the experiences I shared about that I’d relive in a heartbeat was the initial release and celebration last April of In The House Of Me. Writing and self-publishing were arduous tasks without a doubt and yet the joy (!!) of releasing her into the world, the satisfaction of investing into something I believe so heartedly in and the ways in which I let myself enjoy and be celebrated by others are deeply imprinted in my memory, body and community. That book alongside the ways I chose to launch her into the world were decidedly on purpose.
((and))
I had things in motion to evolve her path—podcasts lined up, a local workshop pitch in the making, a course I’d started developing related to consent in the world of online dating—and, it all abruptly stopped when my Dad died. My book sales, while personally never the marker of success I’ve been aiming for, trickled, all but ceasing past the new year. My grief is not the singular cause and yet I’d be denying grief’s impact on the path for this book I’d been carving. Reflecting on this last Fall I can feel how the wind knocked out of my sails, how necessary it was to allow time to mark this passage differently upon my family life but alongside my book’s journey as well.
I can hold this, albeit tenderly, as also on purpose—accepting that the rise and fall of human experience is never going to be anything other than a cyclical shedding and reclaiming.
Over coffees and cocktails, around burgeoning bonfires, on top boulders and within the aisles of thrift stores, my friends swapped creative ideas for new projects; hopes, dreams and possibilities around what’s stirring inside the deep chambers of their hearts. On our walk back from heart rock, Sarah asked if I hoped to publish again and I noted how my breath changed and where that question landed in my body before answering. The reality is that my creativity surfaces most ferociously in response to the heartache I encounter in the stories of my clients, a soul’s lament for more safety and belonging—I’m compelled to descend, unearth and imagine a third-way for humans to be in safer relationship with each other. My friends witness this longing, inviting me to become bigger, bolder, more aligned with who I want to be and the safety I hope to create.
Writing is one way I intend to do lean into loving my neighbor and enemy, on purpose. Which is why, when Sarah asked that question, I could discern that before I explore another creative project I’ll need to spend time revisiting this last one. Which is to say, I now recognize that In The House Of Me is still embedding herself within my own borderland.
My book is inviting me to revisit her pages, to immerse myself once again inside the stories of my clients and research participants, carve out time with the parts of my childhood and Dad I wrote honestly about. Here I’ve been, thinking that grief hijacked my creative process yet now realize that devastating loss has allowed for a necessary detour, perspective to encounter my story and family differently while developing another layer of embodiment practice. Even when we are connected to our internal compass and feel safe enough to express our inner ‘yes, no and maybe’, having access to consent doesn’t mean we get to choose what happens to us.
Embodied consent is discerning clearly what direction to pursue with the options we can access in the mess of the world we’re living in.
Detours are also / often on purpose. An embodied consent practice allows us to discern the path most aligned with our integrity, sift which options bring us more deeply into our homecoming.
In the same way I can see how In The House Of Me isn’t done with me, I’m holding the possibility she’s not done with you yet either. There could be more for you within her pages regardless if you’re reading her for the first or third time. An embodied consent practice is (hopefully) part of our shared experience, ever-evolving while more accessible in some seasons than others.
May you deepen into the layers of homecoming, hear more clearly your inner ‘yes, no and maybe’, may you shed relationships and leave spaces that gaslight or disconnect you from your inner compass.
May you experience the validation and resonance of ‘me too’, ‘with you’ and ‘you being you is my favorite thing’ each time you crack open In The House Of Me or risk your story in the company of safe beloveds. This book continues to be my love letter to the world and can see now the ways in which she’s trying to love me too.
For those of you looking to order, or better yet, gift copies to your friend, women’s shelter or your local library, you can order one from Bookshop which supports indie book stores. (You can also find a pretty, hard copy hosted there as well!) Alternatively and conveniently, Amazon also has them available.
READ THE REVIEWS:
This has me so inspired to revisit "In The House of Me" in this season. It's never left my nightstand, and it'll be re-read with fresh eyes tonight. I'm so grateful for the way you love the world- with your words, knowledge, and compassion. I hope as you navigate those new continents in your world that were formed this year, that you also find homes for the dreams that accompanied your book launch before their formation. So much love to you.
I’ve missed your soul deep writing and regret not toasting to your book’s birthday yesterday!! In honor of her and what you’ve shared here, I plan to explore what she may have for me right now. Love you. Thank you. ❤️