Evelyn:
My recovery and my story landed on the ear of a friend, and I let tears fall... replacing them with 3 hours of dance in Ybor. A soft recovery, faced with warm smiles and familiar hands, my dancing connected and fluid—the light dim and easy. This weekly dance has become my best friend, dependable and encouraging.
Monica:
On our way up the coast, we stopped at Pebble Beach just south of Half Moon Bay. It's a little state park that is easy to miss just driving by but worth stopping at. The beach itself is made up of countless multicolored, perfectly smooth quartz pebbles chipped from an offshore reef and polished by ocean waves. I remember when I lived in Santa Cruz, I drove up here on a broken-hearted day and gathered 24 stones to make a set of Runes. I had planned to keep them for myself, but instead gave them to my best friend to take with her when she moved to Amsterdam. I know she still has them tucked away somewhere in their velvet bag, their gold paint worn off from use.
Evelyn:
An 11/11 ritual, under a shaved full moon at 11:11 p.m. Carrying the wishes and intentions of a team on little slips of paper, I promised to release them to the universe, both on behalf of a college we all are working so hard to nurture and grow, as well as for each of us, who carry our own nest of hopes. I felt warm—that a handful of new people in my life would trust me with those little messages—and that I am part of something big—in my own life—with a new trail on this journey—and it is starting to feel comforting. I feel gratitude under the sage smoke, fire, and simmering light of intentions.
Monica:
I have gathered a few sacred objects for a ritual we will be attending tomorrow. I've been preparing for this all week—considering what my deepest intention is, what I want to let go of in my life to make space for what I need to receive, and what guidance might be helpful as I journey forward in my life. I came up with these objects that symbolize different aspects of my intention: heartfulness, aim, and wholeness.
Evelyn:
I stopped at the Dandy for dinner before my Creative Soulcare class; they have a small garden with a healing tree. It houses all kinds of artifacts that people have left with a prayer or two: bells, Buddhas, crystals, notes, flags, etc. As I walked around it I remember thinking a healing thought for my Kidlet whose aching belly and fever were a growing concern. I had no idea that we would be staring at an emergency room in just a few hours.
Monica:
We took a much-needed day off and headed to our favorite little hot springs retreat tucked in a beautiful mountain valley. The moment we walked through the gate, it felt like we had stepped into the Garden of Eden. Roses, irises, poppies, tulips, and wisteria were in full bloom, the sun was shining, and the air temperature was a deliciously warm 75°. We soaked in the hot springs and walked the grounds, finding little lounging nooks with statues, stones, and offerings from guests. Some musicians sat in one such area and played their music softly. It was quite romantic and such a nice way to spend a day and night away from home and work.
Evelyn:
The collapse of my walkway, stones warping, crumbling, and separating from years of rain and shifting sand, symbolizes the shifts that come when a path becomes worn. The pathstones to my home have become a bit more treacherous... and yet, as I kneel down and stare at the crevices between each stepping stone, I am immersed in a world of boulders, valleys, and forests, like unexplored lands. New paths forged in the breaking down of old ones. New realities born of the collapse of old. Somehow, it feels like a whole new path.
Monica:
The day went by too quickly with preparations for a weekend-long board meeting. The first meeting began tonight and lasted 3 hours. Any of my former coworkers (hi Jefe!) can tell you that my eyes begin to glaze over 15 minutes into a meeting, and tonight was no different. By the time Michael and I walked through our front door, I was ready to collapse. But first I had to post today's photo and write something about it. I discovered this plant beginning to flower today, and while it is obviously nowhere near collapse, it contains the possibility of its end in its beginning.
Monica:
Michael was working on a project that required him to rip out a chunk of floor in a house that is over 130 years old. At the end of the day, he came home with his pockets full of treasure: a faded postcard mailed from Switzerland in 1922, a small bit of orange-gold cloth tied with red yarn, an old pipe insulator, a child's list of "seacret" places in the house, a wooden marble, a small plastic chicken, a white stone with a hand-painted ladybug on one side and "M Hinkel Fall '86" on the other, and two pairs of 70s-era ladies' underwear. Michael has had a lifelong fascination with secret hiding spots and buried treasures. He routinely "hides" messages or tokens in things he builds in the hopes that someone years later will discover his message from the past. I love that he found an unexpected cache collected over time, each object a token of another time and another place.
Evelyn:
When I got the word "treasure" I immediately considered staging a collection of all the intricate knobs, trinkets, and oddities I have collected from nature throughout my journey. I display them on a shelf, much like the typical frippery people pick up from dollar stores, antique malls, and eBay excursions. However, I instead spent time with a close friend, on his birthday, and recognized the unending joy I feel about having such treasures in my life—the souls of true "framily"—with whom I connect and make meaning with on a regular basis. So as he dug into his pastry present for the treasure of chocolate folded deep in its layers, I also found, sitting there with him, a warm glow of contentedness deep in the layers of my being, He is a blessing that trumps anything that can be plunked on a shelf.
