Dishes, chicken, magic

“We all begin the process before we are ready, before we are strong enough, before we know enough; we begin a dialogue with thoughts and feelings that both tickle and thunder within us. We respond before we know how to speak the language, before we know all the answers, and before we know exactly to whom we are speaking.” 

― Clarissa Pinkola Estés

There I was in a tiny isolation booth with one glass window, masked up, raising my hand when I heard a beep and wondering if I would be able to avoid the panic attack that had set my heart racing. The minute the door closed I felt an absence of sound which was frighteningly loud and the pressure from the little squishies in my ears was most likely phantom but real and the guy was so nice, but something in me wanted to run out of there.

Turns out my hearing is normal for a 46 year old but my listening, probably, isn't. The kids have been complaining that my hearing is getting worse and with chronic sinus infections and vertigo it seemed a visit to an ENT was warranted.

My testing guy told me that what the kids are experiencing is me experiencing auditory processing issues, which after reading about, I'm guessing I've had for quite some time. Along with memory processing (my biggest challenge). While I have worked for the last decade-ish since being diagnosed with ADD to learn behavioral modifications, this is a new layer to understand.

Peri-menopuase (which deserves an entire letter or book of its own) is compacting some of these processing issues along with being at a place where doing the dishes is finally just doing the dishes for the absolute pleasure of having clean dishes; while all five kids seem to have the most to say to me while the water is running and I'm immersed in the suds.

"I can't hear you," I repeat. They continue. I lather, rinse and just let them keep going.

I'm also incredibly exhausted by social media and watching people perform. I did that. Now I'm 46. And if you think for a second something doesn't happen to you after 45, just wait. Or you already know.

I'd rather wash dishes than scroll Instagram. I'd rather dream and be bored than see one more meme. I still like recording thoughts and photos, but the pressure for it to be something more is no longer in my wheelhouse. I love my shop because it is so purely what it is and nothing else. Every time I think it should be more, I go wash a dish or take a walk and remember myself.

Dave and I recently 'graduated' from our couples therapy. More like our therapist has moved on to new adventures and set us free with all her absolute love, and goodness do we love her back. We were perfect students and simulated one last fight so she could give us a final road map through our patterns.

She said that she has worked with many many couples and that not everyone has such an incredible love for each other. She loves our love and being witnessed like that is powerful.

I asked Dave for the kitchen to be painted for my Christmas gift (no one in this family has a big gift love language but we are packed with acts of service love).

He then told me that he would not just be painting it but removing some of the top cabinets just as I've dreamed about so we can hang floating shelves. I spent the next two days pouring over photos of kitchens and planning colors (Behr cracked pepper) and wanting to talk about design to anyone who would listen.

Turns out, Dave's joy for my joy is the actual gift. Forget the paint colors, watching another human feel genuine delight in your delight is magical. And then I feel pleasure in his ability to please. Also, the way he loves me (I'm learning to see it even when we are fighting) is intense and generous. He wants for me. He wants me. And vice versa.

We also...got two chicken, another dream of mine. We'll raise some more in the Spring but the whole set up was inherited and the birds came too. They are the sweetest things ever. It was a total surprise and I have been incredibly nervous to figure it all out. No matter how many books I read, the only thing that works for my brain is to do it. And poof, here they are.

The sixth Magic Making Circle has begun, we are almost a month in and it feels like home. I reworked the whole thing and it is gentle and as we all get to know one another I am beyond grateful to do the work of magic with other incredible humans. I have writing days, video days, recipe creation days, shop days and making home days. Gently I'm falling into the new rhythm and embracing Winter in a way I haven't accessed since I was a kid.

I have a nervous feeling in my belly, as I do every time I run the magic circle. Because it is powerful magic, and something brand new is always created. So while I get excited for the creation for others, I can't avoid the impending burning-down-to-rise-from-the-ashes feeling that comes. My whole life as it is now came from these circles, the work in them, and I read letter after letter from women who share their stories of the magic that was born for them, from them. (No pressure!!!)

So the nervousness? Kind of like the butterflies during a magical first kiss. My first kiss with Dave, came from little slips of paper made during magic making. All the evidence for his arrival was waiting.

My healing of love addiction is a direct result of the core wounding challenges that Dave brings to our relationship and we are healing together through the experience of these core wounds (from ourselves and our ancestors) talking to each other.

My therapist says you can do all the work on your own and feel healed and then your partner shows up.

Dave took the kids into the woods and cut down the tops of two trees, one for my mom and one for us. I was outside taking a walkabout with the chicken.

I thought about how little I ache for, how the aches were so real in the past. Now I wash dishes for the joy of them being clean and I've committed to collecting and using only things that feel like part of my sacred aesthetic and radiate beauty and story. I have the patience to not hear my kids as they talk to me. I trust that Dave loves me even when he is triggered. I won't perform but I will dream.

Sage, the smaller chicken started scratching at the leaves and Eli ran out of the woods with the sweetest tree. This is where I've been heading, I'm here. Sometimes we just need to look around, be quiet and notice who we have become.

And still, first kisses of magic await.

xoxo