Friday, April 20, 2012

On Circles and Spirals and the Birdsong of Spring

I am expanding.

This feeling has been building. It’s a strange feeling. Painful even. An ache, a mounting pressure, that comes from where I do not know.

But I am reaching a point in my life where the game must change. It is time to put myself out into the world. To be seen. To lead. To become bigger than I ever imagined.

I am paying attention. I see the signs around me. One of the more unpleasant ones being a deep discomfort that is sometimes triggered when I witness others doing grand things with their lives. I alternate between envy and jealousy (the important distinction being the presence or lack of resentment towards those others). But also just as often accompanied by a healthy dose of yearning and faith … knowing that I too am capable and ready to do such awesome things.

The pieces are here. I have been slowly gathering and weaving them into my life. Bouncing around between each of them. Delving into the depths. Pulling back and observing. Wondering how the hell they will all fit together.

Perplexed. Frustrated. Impatient.


As of this month, this April, it has been 13 years that I have called this particular part of the planet home.

Every spring, there is a bird, whose song always, always, reminds me of that first April here in Amador County, on the western slopes of the Sierra Nevada range. Up until that point I had spent my life in huge cities or large towns. What was I suddenly doing here, in a rural county? On a farm? Agreeing to work the land and my body in ways it had never done before? It was an intuitive and a gut level knowing – that somehow I managed to listen to - that brought me here. And I am so glad I did.

On the farm the work began early. The windows were open to the cold morning air, and to the birdsongs of spring. Alice - a farmer and visionary - and I sat with binoculars for a week, looking up into the trees, trying to spot the bird whose voice sang us awake each morning. Turns out it was a blackheaded grosbeak.

(You can see one, and listen to its song, here.)

This morning, as I type, I can hear that song. Reminding me of the long and fantastic road I have traveled the past 12 years.


Twelve is a circle. The clock as we know it, an hour. Two halves of a day. Or twelve months, a year. Broken neatly up into four seasons. Round and round we go. Through the seasons of our lives.

But 13 is a spiral. It takes us out of and beyond the circle. Growth and transformation. Endlessly evolving higher and higher. Circling back around but at a new level, with a different perspective, not quite where we were before.

I feel that this 13th year, in this place, is about to catapult me out into a new way of being.

And that it is going to happen, one way or another, whether I'm ready for it or not. I feel it in my bones.

To be honest, I keep hoping for some major external push. But the push, I know, must come from within. From me.

If I do not push out, beyond my comfort zone this year, I just may implode. And that does not seem like even the remotest of possibilities. And might be quite ugly besides.

So I am feverishly massaging the rosary of faith these days. That the tendrils I have nurtured to life recently of art, women’s gatherings, Francophile tendencies, an obsession with wine and the Rhone Valley - and Spirit - are taking me somewhere unbelievable. But I know that faith is not enough. Action must be taken.

It is within me. Waiting to be imagined, to be made real, to be birthed out into the world on a spiraling path of glitter and sparkle.

I know I can do this. The confidence that was not there before is now primed and ready to go. For that I am SO grateful.

But there is still the question of the What.

WHAT exactly is going to need action? WHAT is ready to be born?

I am aware, keenly aware, that when I stop TRYING so hard to figure it out, it will come flooding in.

This I am sure.


So today this is a note to myself.

Relax. Keep doing what you’re doing. Keep creating. It’s happening.

STOP trying to force it.




Here’s to the beautiful, painful, glorious, excruciating phases and process of creating something new.


  1. this is brilliant. and so exciting. holding space for you and your process to align... ♥

  2. Oh I am so excited and inspired for you and so happy to read this post.
    Much love

  3. oh. my. goddess.

    i am all a-quiver with excitement for you!! i know EXACTLY what you mean about the What....and EXACTLY the feeling of the standing-with-your-toes-curled-over-the-edge-of-Something....


    keep walking, keep listening...the lessons are trickling will all come together as it should.


    LOVE you...i sit in love and gratitude for seeing the beauty of your unfolding...

    rock on, sistah-o-mine..