I write today from beautiful Orcas Island, my last day of a little visit here that has been incredibly restorative. For the past two days the sunshine has been abundant, the skies blue - I even hiked in a tank top, enjoying the warmth on my shoulders (but with my puffy coat in my pack, because at this time of year it can change in an instant). I've seen countless bald eagles, one river otter, one deer. There is a heron who resides in the bay in front of me, and I've watched him fishing. I walked out to the little island in a pair of rubber boots purchased from the drugstore just for that purpose, marveling at the enormous oysters growing all over its surrounding rocks, but avoiding going up onto the island as it's a nesting area for gulls and geese. In the evening, the Canadian geese traipse all over the verdant grass of the park below me. I've eaten wonderful food (the halibut tacos at Buck Bay are likely to inhabit my dreams), including some things I brought with me from home. Dinner last night was smoked salmon, rosemary raisin crackers, cheese, eggplant dip, and grapes (along with a lovely glass of wine - Readers Cabernet). I've dropped some money into local shops, picking up soap, lotion, books, oracle cards, a mug. I've done a 40 minute yoga session (thanks, Yoga with Adriene) two days in a row. I've sat on beaches. I've journaled dozens of pages.
Looking up, my heron friend is nearby, flying low and slow over the water, landing on a little rocky outcrop. Have I mentioned how much I love it here?!
But as I was saying... I've had deep and meaningful (still processing) conversations with random folks, and I've pet many strangers dogs. I've read. And then I actually wrote - really writing - the opening chapter for my new book idea. The words are just flowing out of me, and I have a plan to keep going.
As a matter of fact, I've created a plan to write every day, and I am determined to complete a draft of this book this summer. I am tired of playing small, tired of telling myself that I am not enough. I'm enough, I have something to say, and I trust myself.
Pause. I noticed a funny feeling in my legs, and looked down, surprised at myself. I was so drawn to write that I am still on my yoga mat, feet tucked under my bottom. I had just completed the practice ("Awaken the Artist Within") and went to pause the video, and then these words flowed out of me before I even noticed what I was doing.
I have a new plan for my life, and I understand it better now. This year, my words were "love" and "write" and I thought maybe that I would seek love and that I would write, but now it doesn't feel like that. I'm not seeking, I am being. I am in love with writing, and I love myself enough to commit to it. My daily practice will be from 7-9pm, and it is not a burden or an obligation, it is a gift to myself. Sometimes I might show up here to say something on my mind, but mostly what I'm doing is writing my book and some stories. In order to do this, I need to move my body more - the mind body connection is so real, and if kneeling on a yoga mat to type on a computer placed on a chair after completing "Awaken the Artist Within" isn't a sign, then I don't know what is.
(Other signs: an elderly by vibrant woman kissed my cheek and called me 'little girl', a river otter ran in front of me and paused for a long time, eagles keep flying back and forth in front of me, I found a cluster of wild orchids in the woods...)
So, I am rearranging things. The focus is my book, and by the time I go to Maine I want to have a copy of it ready to be proofed. Sunday-Thursday I will write between 7-9pm; on Friday and Saturday I will find the time that works best.
Embarrassed confession: if I turned off the television and looked away from my phone, I'd find that I absolutely have enough space in my life to do this.
I am all of this. I am not less than this. It's been true since childhood, and when I ignore it I feel the ache in every cell. I came to the island to remember this, and on this, my last day, I am sure that I remember.
Move my body every day. Write every day. Nothing more, nothing less. I am certain that this is my magic formula, and that if I do these two things, it's a kind of love like never before.
(And I look up, and a juvenile eagle floats by my line of vision. I look left, and its parent is patrolling the bay, majestic but giving it space. Signs everywhere. Does everyone see these signs? Are these signs always there? I have been surrounded by eagles lately - they fly by the window during yoga class. It is not a coincidence.)
The weather changed today; the sea is a stormy dark gray, and the sky is a flat, pale gray. Yesterday's bright blues and smooth water have been replaced by a choppiness; the wind is constant. Yet - and this is key - the sunshine within me hasn't faded at all. It's burning inside me, a warm fire that makes me feel lit from within, full of power and energy.
Love. Write.
Let it be so.
