One

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I didn’t really have words for a while. April 4th was coming. I could feel all my subtle, exploring

attunements drawing back their fragile tendrils, closer to the body, seeking shelter, sensing a

threat approaching. I was alert, but almost in a state of fight or flight, where crafting

explanations or even processing what I was experiencing in the moment took too much from me and I

knew I had to conserve my energy. 


In a way it was like being sucked through a straw. Pressure mounting. Everything narrowing. There would be no escaping it. The day was inextricably, inexorably coming.


We knew we didn’t want to be home for it, so we went to the ocean. Someplace bigger than we were,

someplace elemental. The air is different at the beach and when you breathe it in, you can almost feel the

living medicine fill your lungs. It is soft on your skin. It makes you walk slower, breathe deeper, move

through space differently. 


And Jonah was with us, just not all the heaviness we carry back home in our real, day to day lives. We

left that behind. We just allowed each day to dawn, gently followed our noses, and let our feet linger in

the sand. We wrote his name and watched the tide take it back to the heart of the earth, beneath the

waves and the sea. And we cried so much.


People asked me how our trip was when we got home. I think the best way to describe it is

convalescence. Like going to the Four Seasons to recover from painful surgery. It was a soft place to do

a hard thing.


Thank you for all your prayers and patience. I am finding my words again. I can tell you now how it has

been, and I will keep telling you what comes next. But the most important things I can tell you is to go

softly through this world and love without reservation or fear. Love is the most important thing. I have

come to think it might be the only thing that actually matters after all.







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