It’s a full time. The moon now wanes darker each evening, the sun too shares the descent into the darkness as we move into the colder darker time. Yesterday I read my journal from when I lived in San Francisco, right before I met my husband. What an emotional trek (even reliving them via that turquoise-paged journal pulled me back into those charcoal wintery months): moments of the wildest vulnerability I could ever imagine from a woman in a foreign-to-her city, concomitant with a daring strength mustered in brave acts (often, then, bravery came in brevity and existed in the mere thoughts and journal pages–the seed of courage begins in the mind).
Being intuitive and somewhat outspoken runs in my family. The women are strong, brave, and deeply in touch with an inner knowing of ancient hymns, and this lineage has been passed down with oral traditions and careful observations. Some of this I’ve always known, I come from strong women and I will be brave; sometimes this courage hides though. This week, it’s been hiding. Maybe it was reading that old journal, unearthing a very lonely time in my life–a very strong and intuitive time in my life, no doubt, but a very lonely time. I read the first few pages of a paperback book in the bookstore the other day about a woman whose mother left her a bookshelf of journals to read when she died, and a week later, after her mother’s passing, she found the journals all blank. It’s my dream to read journals of someone I love. It is my dream. I was befuddled. After reading that chapter, though, I’m curious about bravery. And how diluted things may become in this modern era. You couldn’t keep a blank blog, could you? There’s no secrecy. And I believe that bravery hidden is bravery building. I think courage hides so that she can emerge stronger than before. She’s been running the trails, lifting stones and rearranging river pools in the light of the moon. When I’m caught up in the specific nature of our technological time and rapid fire, I go seek courage in her natural habitat. This is rather daunting to me because I am afraid of the dark. (That’s really why we got Maeve.) But, as I embark into nature’s simplicity, I’m humbled, quiet, and noble; I’m full of courage. Dark or light, I embody courage when I seek her out.
And so, in the scores of bravery, under the spell of courage, I am leaping into an unknown-to-me space. Daily, now, I create space for writing, for me. I am brave. I consider this brave because in my motherhood my space is yogurt-splattered and delightfully colored with shades of sing-song directions, helping the dog learn her toys versus the children’s toys, and so many snack breaks. However brief, to claim my space each day is brave. This is brave because I’m exposing myself (here, there, hidden, and aware).
And, so, as we harvest our bravery and other wonders of ourselves, here’s to the bounty! In what ways are you brave?
PS, Tuesday Design*Sponge featured my city guide to the Methow Valley, a very special and sacred valley in central Washington nestled in the foothills of the Cascade Mountains. Please go check it out, the valley is among the most welcoming places I’ve known on this earth.