I’m sitting in a hammock swing looking up at the sunset over Terhune’s on June 24, 2015. Finally got Jamie to sleep at a reasonable hour and was able to actually go outside by myself and watch the sunset. Everything about everything is astounding.

It’s so fascinating what youth is. How the colors of the sky streak across my mind. How I have loved growing up, growing out and spinning back round to look at myself. Still, the only thing that ever really feels clear to me is childhood. I was always conscious of that as a child- how being a child seemed to fit me in some wholly existential way. Being able to live in that space, to dwell consciously on what childhood is, from the outside and the inside and to stand apart within the world of adulthood and spin myself into that effortless world of a child- that is what is true for me. What seems to make most sense in this messy, chaotic world. The adult world is full of so much bullshit. So much which is NOT life, which is not reality, which is not truth. So much nonsense staring at the walls we’ve built up around each other. I love this great contradiction – that so many seem to stand above and laugh at children, at imagination and at play…and yet build themselves strange cubicles to dive into the unreal world of furtive looks, false exchanges, imagined meanings placed on stocks and stacks of paper money. I understand reality, I do. But I don’t understand why no one sees that the only people that are actually living in real life, the way that life is meant to be lived – are children. Meaning and joy and discovery and real, honest, blunt emotion. No falsities, no imagined narratives, no walls of obligation that we have hidden ourselves behind. The professional world makes my insides churn and makes me embarrassed to be a human. Stacks and stacks and stacks upon stacks of imagined meanings. All sorts of energies being pummeled into a hole in the ground. Manifesting and creating more and more bullshit. Not all, not all, but so much of it.

So much talk today of motherhood…of how it needs to be revered. About how there should be no shame, no guilt about not being a mother. You should not become a mother if it isn’t ABSOLUTELY what you want with the deepest inner workings of your most genuine heart. It is not a light thing to the checked off a checklist. It is heavy and important and so impactful. So meaningful. It needs to be revered.

And for me, it saved my life. It has been the most fulfilling and satisfying thing I have ever engaged in. I wish every mother felt that way. I wish I could give that gift to every woman that wants to feel that way. I wish it was enough. I wish people would see that hazy, golden glow in the skin of their children. Put down the complaints, re-frame their life, live in gratitude, and mother the world…for the world needs mothering.

I can’t really believe I gave up acting for a man. I can’t really believe I have found myself in the exact situation I swore a thousand times I would never be in. It is…well…humbling. No reason to judge anyone for anything. The complexities of human choices, intentions and pathways are so rich and varied. All of those ways that you imagine it is so easy to make the right choices, to walk that clear path towards your destination, to set your intention on the horizon and not waver from its sight…it is so much more complicated than that. It is so much more complicated than that.

I watch the first star twinkle its way out of the dimming evening sky and I thank the world for still breathing its way in circles.

I like greeting my mind again after all this time. I can only see the dusty reflection of my own mind when I begin to write it out. I am always surprised by what comes out.

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