Max is sleeping. He does a lot of that. When I tell other parents that we get eight hours or more of sleep a night I get looks of disbelief, even looks of resentment. He loves to sleep and he is good at it. He starts on his side and moves to his back as the night progresses. He usually wakes up every hour or so for some "ninnys" which is what we call nursing. I don't remember where I heard "ninnys" but I like it. I like co sleeping too. We have a co sleeper attached to the bed but have only used it a few times since he has been born. Since we have a king size bed he can safely sleep with us. I am in no hurry to get him out of our bed. There is a lot of people of the opinion that they need to get out of your bed to be independent. I am of the mind that being that close to you gives them love and nurturing and a sense of security and I will follow my child's cues and my own intuition when it comes to him leaving our bed. He is smiling and laughing lately which is a delight. Some nights are long and lonesome and frustrating, but those feelings are always balanced with the feelings of love and happiness that I get to be so close to my little love. That I have the privilege of spending so much time with him. Soon it will be time to find a part time job. I am trying to dream up what that could be.

Today we went on a walk in the neighborhood and I love the new set of eyes that children give you. There is so much to take in that we so often overlook because we are so wrapped up in our own heads. I relish the opportunity to see the world through his eyes. I am finding my sea legs on this journey as a mother that has only just begun. I feel strong and wary and open and raw.

A year and eight months after my last blog post and I have a baby. The most beautiful, intense little one named Max, after his great grandfather. Maximillian Elliot Neufeld. He has my blue eyes and his father's nose and we don't know if his hair will be red when he is older, but right now it is strawberry and fuzzy and curls in the back at the nape of his neck. He coos and giggles and is starting to say consonant sounds. He sleeps next to me every night in our giant bed and I would not have it any other way. My body hurts from holding him. My body is soft and thick from carrying him. We are moving back to Portland to be closer to family. My heart aches as I think of leaving these mountains that have been our home for seven years. Seven years. How quickly that passes. I breathe in,. I breathe out. My breaths are different now. My life is forever changed. I stretch and crane my neck around to take in the world anew. As a mother. It is time to write again. And so it begins.

Not sure when the desire to write was buried, but I am trying to dig it out. This past years has been full of trials and hardships and blessings and wonder. I lost myself, or perhaps found another part of myself and in the process a creative part of me was lost. I am trying to find it again. To unearth my creative spirit that has been squelched.

It is January and I find myself without a job. Not the best time of year to be without a job in this town as it is the slowest time of year in the service industry. I have had the same job since moved to this town and it is because of my own choices that I do not have one now. I have since quit drinking in an effort to quit smoking and it a time of intense reflection. I am doing meditations on self forgiveness and trying to be gentle with myself. I don't know what is next for me and that is liberating and terrifying.

So on this cold January day I put my good intentions out into the universe in hopes that it will guide me towards something positive. In this money driven world what I really need is a paycheck, but deep down I yearn for more than that. Don't we all?

One step at at a time, as the saying goes. So here I go. One. Step. And then another. The path in front of me is one I am creating. We shall see where I take myself.

It seems my creative spark has frozen over with the first snow. It is hibernating...hopefully not for long.

Time and Space

What would you do if you were granted more free time? I used to have so many answers to this question, and, now that I am faced with more time, I am often at a loss with what to do with it. I have recently taken my shifts at work down from four to three. I did it with the intention of creating more space in my life for things outside of work and for moving on to a different line of work in general. I did it to make less and live more. To have more energy and redirect that energy. It is astounding to think of how much time we actually spend at work, and also, how much structure work creates around our lives. That structure is hardwired into us from whatever time we began to work. When that structure falls away, we are faced with ourselves, our lives and a vast amount of time.

I am inherently lazy. Double Taurus that I am, I can easily fill my days with nothing but reading and lying around. This, clearly, is not productive nor is it what I want to create with my time. So, I have set a routine aside for myself. I get up, I do an hour and a half yoga and meditation. I free write three pages. I go for a walk in the woods behind the house. If I have it scheduled that day I teach yoga. If the house needs cleaning I go to town on it. After that, I do a myriad of other things that range from walking downtown, going to visit with friends, reading, or trying to do something crafty. Mostly, I really try to just be present with myself. It is hard to face the things that tend to come up when I am alone. But, ultimately, I think it is part of the process of growth. I realize how very privileged I am to have all of this new free time and I am very grateful for it. I am using this time to get connected with my creative center and be open to new opportunities around me.

Autumn is on the way, and I can already feel her cool crisp breath in the morning. It is going to be an incredible fall season in the mountains and I cannot wait to be present for every moment of it.

Drink your tea slowly and reverently, as if it is the axis on which the world earth revolves - slowly, evenly, without rushing toward the future. Live the actual moment. Only this moment is life.”

Thich Nhat Hanh

Hot Summer

Asheville is on fire this summer with a heat that started in March and has only elevated as the months take us deeper into the season. Swimming holes are crawling with city dwellers eager to escape the baking pavement, and night time is the only time we can find relief from the elements. Air conditioners whir incessantly outside peoples windows and many of us doubt our memories of the icy winter, which now seems like a frozen dream.

In six short days we fly to Oregon, where they are experiencing a delayed summertime. The mid seventies temperature (with barely any humidity mind you), will be like a drink of cold water and the relief will flood over us as our cells remember our cooler roots. Even ninety degrees in Portland feels like a good seventy five after coming from the oppressive southern mugginess. Oh, sweet Oregon, how we shall revel in thy temperateness, and bask in the frigid waters of thine beaches. Asheville cooks in envy at the thought of our chilled escape, and she shall be waiting with sweaty, open arms upon our return.