As author Toko-pa writes, "Only from such a place of loss and longing can we begin remembering ourselves home." Are we willing to belong to this, this gorgeous messiness of life? Are we willing to restore, on a daily basis, the discipline it takes to stay present, perhaps our greatest service.

As this new "Year of the Metal Rat" begins, I am going to try dreaming small for a change, that I may feel the blessing of a life more slowly lived. I am wishing you, dear ones, strength and focus in the small, steady, day to day good work we do, and renewed faith in our collective awakening - for the benefit of all beings.

All my love,
Mama Emily

The cycles follow an invisible circadian rhythm that we all live by. His eye has only changed pattern on Equinoxes & Solstice. It's as if his left eye has been taken over by a magic spell and my job has been to intuit how to take care of him, gathering the best support possible to help him heal. This has been a monumental task. We've done lots of alternative stuff, it's still not healed. We almost did surgery, but didn't, but still might. It just keeps going.

It's like the alternating eye has become a way of life, alternating between normal and not, trust and uncertainty... you just, learn to live with it. It could be so much worse. Really, he is amazing, every-other-day is totally fine. Nothing is perfect. He will heal. He is healing. I'm exhausted. I'm infinitely capable of holding this. I trust him and this process. I surrender surrender surrender. I know we are going to be ok, and, it's hard. I am so. ready. for. this. to. be. over.

I remember a while ago, before I became a mom, a guide suggesting I slow down and take care of myself as if this was a "long road" kind of thing. She was responding to my ambitious idealism (currently getting worn out of me by motherhood!) reminding me that though I might have the vision to do it all, it would not be wise. She shares the same name as my son. I smile now, a bit heartbroken, seeking the light in all things, wondering if there is something to that now. The thing is, once you're a mom, it's never enough. It's enough when it comes to work, to home, to how I look. Gone are the days. But when it comes to your kid ~ relentless. It's like, I cannot rest until his eye is healed. But I have to, or it won't. It's just, a lot. We weren't designed for this. I'm sure of it.

A wish that's grown in me, is how much I want real life contact with people who love us and want to hug us and play with us and live life together, who deeply know this witch-y semi-cross-eyed cool dude and his magical overwhelmed mama. People we see more than once every few months. People to bake muffins for and have late night tea with. People who just stop by. People who send us love notes in the mail. People who can handle me breaking down crying for ten minutes, then crack up, and rush off to the next thing, 'cause that's how it is... but at least we saw each other! People who want to be with us, make a village with us ~ without intricate advanced planning. Perhaps / guaranteed, this is missing for so many of us, certainly for me.

So, what's my birthday wish? I usually have some epic world-saving wish for the earth. I still do. But this year, this year I just want my son's eyes to heal. I want you to know me, know us, really, and wish for this too. I want his body to do whatever it needs to do to heal, now. I want us both to be free of this spell, to learn the lessons it is offering, and move forward with the wisdom, without the illness. This feels like a huge ask. I don't think I've ever made a birthday wish for myself. I almost don't feel worthy of this wish. But I am. We are.

Thank you dear ones, our near and far beloveds, for holding this simple, mortal wish for my son and family. And thank you everyone who has been with us, on all the levels. It means the world to me.

I love you,
Mama Emily

Photos by the lovely Brooke Porter, who captured beautifully the spirit that dances Shaye and I into our special little love world.

Though I adored tender and silly moments with these incredible women, and swimming naked in a cold river on a true Summer day, my favorite part of the whole adventure was the soundscape of the Appalachian mountains at night. Something about the wet heat, the stars, the woods and creek, and the overpowering symphony of nocturnal singers - it was like retreating to a safe rainforest. I remembered my first conversation with my now husband, when he told me his greatest passion was "listening" (swoon!) and about his interest in finding places in this world where one could listen to an uninterrupted soundscape. It was sweet to remember our "beginning", worlds away.

Departing and still upon return, I find myself in close quarters with grief. Grief about how over-full life is. Grief about finally committing to weaning, of that rushed airport morning being his last "num num" for the rest of his life. Grief about everyone I love aging, and time passing. Grief about how much precious time has been lost to fear, worry, managing. Grief about violence on all levels and the state of the world. I wished to leave all that grief behind, then in classic "Emily" style found myself holding space for others to grieve. Though I left those mountains feeling so, so blessed, I still left with grief close by, like an overly friendly shadow always by my side.

I am lucky enough to...

"Love and Grief - they are the same thing." As simple as this seems, it hit the center of my gift/wound story. He went on, "The more we love, the more there is to lose."

Perhaps the greatest risk, is not to abandon life plans and live in a van, finally leave the Bay Area, to have a birthday party for the first time in like 20 years, to have another child, to give up my career, to raise my rates... agh. No. The greatest risk is to lower my standards to love being enough. And not just sort-of-love, except-for-that-one-thing-love. To love with all I've got - and in turn risk the whole structure crumbling around that love, and trust what's left is what's worth living for.

Love is enough... says the over-productive, overachieving, superhero world saving woman-healer-mama telling herself she's just about ready for kid #2. When will anything ever be "enough"?

I'm so grateful to Beth Berry, who led our Motherworthy Retreat in NC, for reminding me with every cell in her ~ to relax, to trust, to welcome, to rest. To forget about "ideally" and "if only" for 2 friggin' days, and let love be enough. What I can tell you is 2 days out of 2 years is definitely not enough!! :-)

Wishing you find your version of "enough" dear ones.

Mama Emily

...particular behavior or feelings but rather to our whole person and identity. It erodes our sense of worthiness and disconnects us from our joy and pleasure. It trains us to compare our insides to others’ outer shells (hello, Instagram!). It sets us up against impossible standards, while also keeping us playing small.

first hand in our circles, both with girls and grown women. Giving voice to our shame and to the stories we have about ourselves inevitably unravels the cycle of secrecy and isolation. Our stories matter. We heal ourselves by sharing our stories and by hearing others’ stories. We heal by bringing empathy to the places in ourselves that feel the most unlovable. 

May we continue to find our way to more freedom and joy… as young girls and women. May we be supported as we do the bold and tender work of looking within. May we learn to resource ourselves from the inside out and through radical connection to each other, rather than from toxic external conditions that teach us to conform and be complaisant.

For all of us sitting with these questions: Am I enough? Am I worthy? The answer is: Yes, yes, yes, my dear beloveds you are!

Love, Quetzal

At first glance, it may seem like today’s young people have it pretty good... everything available instantly at the touch of a button. But is this high-tech world causing more stress than it’s curing? Take a look at some of the reasons that teens are so anxious.

LINKED ARTICLES:
Why Is Generation Z So Stressed Out, Paradigm Malibu
Why 90% of Generation Z Says They're Stressed Out, Psychology Today