Hello dear one,

Taking a breath, here and now.

[ o o o ]

One more, to truly invite presence into our lungs, our fingernails, the tips of our toes.

[ o o o ]

It’s fascinating (though not surprising to me at this point) to see how different my body / thoughts / energy responds now to what’s expressed in these entries.

I have such a different lens four years on, and the speed of inner transformation only seems to be accelerating.

I’m feeling more drawn to share from Here and Now, from this wider view — than to amplify these past storylines containing so much illusion. But I’ll continue publishing these journals until I receive clearer guidance to stop.

And so we return to 2022-Rebecca who is in the fullness of a partnership with Evan, her energetic short-circuits, and gearing up for three night classes in the fall.

Whatever season this finds you in, sending a breath of spacious new beginnings.

A breath of the Glorious Blank Page.

Now Is Not Then.

Rooting for you,
Rebecca

---

[If you’re newly joining, this is part 15 of an ongoing journey. You can begin with part 1 here.]

July 24, 2022
Prompt: What part of “the story of who you are” do you want to rewrite? What do you want to announce?

I am partners with Evan! It’s serious, sacred, soulful, and loving. He is my primary support and my Love. We treasure time with one another.

I am a student of Earth energy and Intuition Medicine! I can sense subtle energy, and I’m learning how to ground deeply into Earth’s energy so I will be rooted around moving energies.

I start night classes in a month! My body will adapt to the changes, my supervisor is letting me shift my work hours, and Evan has offered to make me dinners.

I ask for what I need, and I’m proud of my sensitivity. I can witness/observe with love and curiosity while experiencing big feelings.

July 31, 2022
Dear Rebecca of July 31, 2022,
Release your fears about school. You know to do this. Fear makes tension and despair. You’ll meet the change with the energy, capacity, and wisdom that you have on those days. Your body will adjust. Use annual leave and maxiflex. You have a strong intuition which will know if it’s right to stretch and continue, or to try school at a later time.

And these weeks leading up, meet yourself with gentle compassion. If your body needs to rest, give it rest. If you feel nauseous at the end of a work day, lie down. It doesn’t mean anything about future capacities.

Notice the energy you have these days, the capacity you’ve widened. Put your bare feet on the Earth, ground each morning, and spend time with your tree friends – who live stupendously close to you. Call on your helping spirits, and ask Evan for help too. The future you’re bracing for and fearing is not Here and Now.

August 2, 2022 [Loam 10%]

I’ve hardly seen my two current housemates all week, because I haven’t had capacity after work for small talk with people I barely know. I’ve been hiding safely in my room, resting. I even moved my electric kettle into my room on Tuesday when I stayed home from work, so now I can make tea without potentially facing their energies out in the kitchen. (This is amazing!; why didn’t I ever think of this before?)

On Thursday morning I kept peeking down the hall to see if Marie—my newest housemate—was still in the kitchen, and she was. Another big cooking breakfast morning, and I couldn’t wait any longer to toast my bagel. I walked into the kitchen with my mask on and silently went for my bagels in the fridge. Marie, at the sink washing dishes, asked chipperly, “Do you feel okay?” to which I merely replied, “I stayed home on Tuesday.”

Silence.

I didn’t elaborate. It’s morning. This is my sacred still time. I cannot ask about your morning or evening or how you are, because I don’t want to drain my energy with meaningless pleasantries with someone I hardly know. I must conserve all the energy I can. And I think you think I’m cold, because the only times I seem to see you is early in the morning like this. I could communicate that mornings aren’t talking times for me—but not now. I hear you and Chris talking and laughing in the evenings when I’m already in bed, so we both know I don’t talk with you in the evenings either. I could tell you that I’m deep-sensing, so I need to be alone after long work days, but I can’t communicate that now. And wait a minute, did you just ask me how I’m feeling because I’m wearing a mask? Our county is still in high-transmission rate, we’re supposed to wear masks in common areas of our shared gov housing. You’re the one who called me out at the hotel two weeks ago (which we were relocated to when Chris had covid) and told me to wear a mask in the common spaces. So I did. And I’m continuing to do so, even though it’s uncomfortable in my home. And I absolutely don’t have capacity for a mask conversation right now. I’ll wear mine when I want. I don’t really care what you do. I don’t have energy to enforce; I don’t feel strongly enough. I just don’t understand, sometimes you wear it at home, sometimes not. What are we doing? I don’t have energy for this conversation, so I won’t start it. I can’t make any words; cannot break my precious morning silence.

So I sit in the discomfort of buttering my bagel in the presence of Marie, feeling imagined perceptions, but not making conversation.

If I had a toaster in my room, I could avoid these moments too…

***

This afternoon, I’m in the kitchen making lunch, and Chris walks through the living room in his workout clothes. I haven’t chatted with him since the weekend prior.

“Hey Rebecca,” he greets me with that fast, youthful energy.

“Hey”

“How are you?”

I pause.

I notice that I have enough capacity to be a little more authentic in this moment, for true connection, and I search for words which will be true to the very low energy and unwellness I’ve felt all weekend, yet which will also keep me feeling safe within our small realm of housemate relationship, having shared only three months of small in-passing home moments.

“I’m good, but very low energy. It’ll be a resting day for me.” I reply.

It WILL be a resting day for me. Truth. And I didn’t have to get into the sticky, draining convo of “What are you sick with?” And he didn’t make any comments about me wearing a mask.

The 10% was my pause. Noticing my increased capacity in that moment, and stretching to meet it—moving that inch towards authentic connection. And with Marie, my 10% was sitting in the uncomfortable silence. Knowing I did not have capacity for conversation, so I did not converse.

August 7, 2022 dimanche 8:30 pM

I need to sleep now, but feel like I could write all night. Reading Chanel Miller’s memoir today stirred my heart to write my journey, relit my flame, and showed me my power and strength.

Today also felt wonderful. Home alone (until 5). Laundry, cookies, and gleaming almost done by 9:30.

Lunches and dinners for the week made and cleaned up by 1:15! A beautiful storm to read a memoir in bed with Rooibos. No other noises or energies in the home.

Evan’s visit ~9:30 actually felt a sliver irritating, disrupting this joyful, comforting time with me in my home, no other energies flowing from one to the next, hearing my impulses, vacuuming, sorting papers, okay! My intention for the week is to embody “peacefulness” when I get sucked in. Grounding each morning. Practice gentle compassion. Write 10% Tuesdays.

August 12, 2022 [Loam Post]

Evan is driving us an hour and a half so I can stock up on chocolate chips from Trader Joe’s to get me through the fall and winter. His parents swapped vehicles with him this month, so we are in the black car, which feels new and flashy. His phone is connected to the car’s audio system.

At first we are listening to SIRIUS, a feature of this vehicle that Evan is excited about. I’m distracted by all of the channels, all of the text showing song titles and artist titles, plus the tiny commercials that advertise Sirius.

Too many options, and maybe there’s something more enjoyable, but I’ll leave it on 7 the 70s, simple easy-going music. If ch. 6 had been the 60s, we would have been there.

All of a sudden the music stops, there’s an audible “ding,” with a text notification that pops up on the screen. 

A new text has arrived. Evan touches a button on the touchscreen that says “Play,” and a computerized voice reads the message aloud.

“The price dropped again, I think they’re desperate to sell. Give me a call!”

He doesn’t want to buy this property. But these people —the realtors and the bank — keep calling and calling Evan. He’s too kind to tell them a firm 'not interested, please stop calling.' But this has pulled my attention and energy, this person who is not here with us, this thing we don’t need to be thinking about now.

Ten minutes later, the music is interrupted again. Ding! 

It’s a text from his sister. It must be pictures, because the computer-voice reading of the text sounds like computer jargon. We cannot look at these pictures because Evan is driving. And again, these people are not in our music/conversation, but they’ve been forcibly inserted through the notification. I’m getting scrambled.

I plug my iPod into the aux cord and start playing music from there, not Sirius. No more commercials, just a full album of music familiar to me.

Two minutes later, the music stops. Ding! Now it’s a text from his dad in that family group chat, responding to the pictures from his sister. “Ha ha that’s funny” the computerized voice reads.

I can feel myself wearing thin each time it dings. I already adjusted the music source and volume. I’m having a hard time listening when Evan talks; my brain is focusing on the music. Can I really only do one or the other today?

I’m notably more raw than an hour ago. We have over a half hour to go, plus shopping. I think about asking Evan on the return trip if he can disconnect his phone from the car. Is that too needy of me? What if he really likes it? I feel like Sam from “Atypical,” needing to control how things are done, the environment around me. I can feel the pressure rising, but I don’t want to have to explain my experience of this car ride.

It’s still the morning; we’ve only been from home to the car, plus just one short interaction with workers at REI. How are these simple things—a radio, a screen in the car, and talking—too much stimulation for my system?

Now I’ve activated my pain cycle, and I’m plummeting quickly; how can I be loved if I require such a specific environment, if I hold Evan back from his enjoyment in the stimulations he can easily be around? I need to cry, but am holding back because then I’d have to tell Evan where my thoughts have gone and how overstimulated I am in this calm car. The tension rises in my throat.

I notice my hands are pulling on my hair; they've been petting a chunk of it over and over and over, as I hold back tears. 

I'm so close to the edge and Evan has no idea, because I haven’t communicated anything yet. At this point it seems such an abrupt interruption to the current music and story he’s telling. I’ve strayed so far from the shared experience; the gap feels too wide. But my body needs to cry. The bottle will burst.

Minutes later, Evan asks a question which allows for an opening.

“Well, is it possible to disconnect your phone from the car?” I ask.

My voice cracks as I begin releasing the pressure that had built.

“I was thinking about asking you on the return trip, but”

I pause and let myself cry and breathe until I can make words again.

Is he only going to acquiesce to this request because I’m having a breakdown moment? I want to know his response if I had merely asked from a strong, assertive place. Now he’s going to be tender and extra caring because I’m crying.

“Yeah,” he says with such care, seeing my tears and hearing me cry. 

“We can disconnect it right now, press the side button.”

He shows me how to disconnect his phone, and I do so.

“I don’t want to cause you discomfort or drain your energy,” he says. “I want to know if something I’m doing is harming you.”

I understand and receive his words. I’m also still feeling the pain of being tired of feeling these things so easily. I categorize myself as difficult, needy, hard to be around, no fun to be around, I can’t even listen to music and talk on a simple car ride as a passenger. Limited. A burden. Round and round the sharp pain cycle.

This is exhausting. 

I don’t need to keep chasing my tail in a circle. I take a deep breath and release. That breath is my way of accepting what just happened, and to stop attaching meaning.

I’m exhausted, and don’t want to give this incident any more energy or time. But Evan just learned about it, and wants to know more.

“Is there anything else right now that’s draining your energy?” he asks considerately.

“No.”

“How are you feeling? Can you describe it?” No. I’m out of words. Out of energy. I don’t want to dig back into this and give it more space.

“I’m recovering now,” I say, unable to explain what that means for me in this moment, in my body, because explaining takes so much energy. So I let myself not explain, leave a gap, give myself space to recover and rest.

August 14, 2022
Sunday night and I feel refreshed. Staying at Pinyon this weekend (not driving to Evan’s), it felt like four days. Surprised (and grateful) I had energy to go to town all three days! (Just to the PO this morning, but still… a change to celebrate!)

I’ve been aware lately of falling into patterns/ roles with Evan. The familiarity/comforts can make me less present. Am I seeing Evan as he is, or who I think he is / want him to be for my safety/security? Are we aligned in this partnership? Do we want things that can coexist? What are our dreams? How are we perceiving this relationship? What are his thoughts?

I felt much less fear about school this week, and have optimism with the energy I’ve felt this week. Remembered I have Rhodiola too, and I promise to be devoted to my morning meditation space. This could give me more energy – why not try with my full being? Believe it’s possible.

August 23, 2022 [Loam Post]

I found out today from my coworker Alec that the Younger Gal and the Father I Admire are for sure in a romantic relationship. She'd told Alec a month ago(!), and he showed me public pictures of them as a couple on her IG.

I had an immediate reaction in my body that was so fast, it was hard to track. Lost my appetite and felt a little sick to my stomach; I was frozen, eyes were staring off at an unfocused spot, ears couldn't comprehend the work plans that the people who just arrived were making in front of me. 

When I caught myself frozen there, so far gone, I said I needed five and went around back to sit by a tree. I cried and let out some emotions. 

All this time I'd been in denial, it couldn't be true. She's 24! He's 40 with a 5-year-old daughter and a huge community life. 

She's a seasonal! He's unofficially our work lead. 

But more importantly, her energy zaps me and beats me down! He used to teach me and inspire me. Her harsh, judgmental words and inappropriate jokes make me feel unsafe! He was such a safe presence and we used to have deep 1-on-1s. What is he doing? How long can this last? When is she going to get hurt? I remember being 24...

I closed my eyes and went to meditation sanctuary to briefly ground. I stood up before I had fully processed, and returned to the maintenance yard next to coworkers. I felt tears nearby; I could have let myself feel more of the emotions, or not rushed the grounding. But my 10%, which I only realized later? I hadn't judged myself! I accepted the experience! 

I hadn't had the old thoughts of "why are you having such a big reaction? why do you feel so betrayed by Kai? why does Kira activate you so much? you're with Evan now!" None of that. 

I accept my body’s experiences. I don't have to explain it to anyone. I don't have to put it to words. It doesn’t need to make Mind-Sense. I treat myself with gentle compassion.

Sept 8, 2022 [Loam 10%]

I'm in electric theory class, and my instructor is telling us about voltage. I don't fully grasp the concept from his words. Yes, I use 9-volt batteries and hear "120-volt outlets," but I don't Know their insides and out. Then boom, we're on to amperes. This is still electricity moving, but it's not volts. Wait. I still don't have voltage. I can't understand the difference if I don't have a deep understanding of each separately.

I feel tears start to well. Total somatic response. I know without a doubt I can learn these concepts during the week from YouTube videos. I can learn anything. My superpower. I have the ability to memorize the definitions and not understand the concepts, if I wanted to. But I will learn the concepts to true understanding because I must. I can no longer blindly memorize things told to me by others. 

These are all thought-knowings, though. My body has short-circuited. This particular reaction is less intense than my other energetic activations, but perhaps more immediate. Tears. Well. Now. It doesn't happen very frequently in my adult life, either. I remember this feeling when I first learned to solve for x in 6th grade. (Why are we subtracting 2 from both sides of the equation? Who told us we can do that? Why would we decide do that? Huh??) When learning about cutting new trail at age 28 in the conservation corps. (Outslope? Backslope? Water shed? I can't see these – what does it look like??) There is a disconnect. Something isn't clicking in my understanding. And my body reacts in this way. Tears.

Because of all the exposure to "expansion" this week – participating in the Harvest workshop over the weekend, seeing this week's Loam prompt as an invitation to expand, writing an expansion question/invitation/reminder in my week spread – the thought comes to me to try and expand this "short-circuit."

I sniff under my mask and remember to breathe. It's hard to feel a physical sensation with this particular tears-fall-now body response, but I try to make the frustration larger, to expand it. 

Twenty-four students sit semi-circle around me, all looking towards the screen at the front of the room, where I'm sitting. We're all in electric theory class, and now the instructor is talking about Ohms.

I'm trying to tend to my nervous system, pause the tears, and re-teach my body with somatics. I wonder what experiences my fellow-students are having at this moment. 

I know I'll have lots to digest and self-learn over the weekend about volts, amps, & Ohms, and somehow I'm able to pause that panic. I won't try to make sense of it now. I will remain in not-understanding. And in this way, my body is not caught in a loop.

Celebrating that my system brought Expansion to me in a moment of semi-activation.

September 13, 2022

Also, twice this weekend I felt that I had to pee, and autopilot me wanted to finish the small task I was doing first so it would be done, and then pee. I noticed this instinct, then aware me paused and took the time to go to the bathroom, then finish my task in greater comfort.

Sept 30, 2022 [10% Loam Post]

It's Tuesday morning. That means our weekly safety meeting at Crater. So I am sure to ground and thicken my aura, to protect and strengthen my energy, so as not to be shaken by Kai and the Younger Gal. I'm bracing myself on the drive in, fearful of being activated like I used to regularly be when in the presence of those two together. 

It's been weeks since we've talked, a month now that I've been starting at Pinyon since I'm in school. I don't make small talk with them today. I don't ask Kai how his 2-week furlough was. I don't ask Kira how she's feeling, since she called in last Tues through Thursday (though Kai was on furlough, so they were likely off somewhere together.) These don't feel like genuine questions anymore, after the way things have been this summer and fall. 

I look out for myself first. I talk to my coworker friends who make me feel safe.

Then, after the meeting, I am talking to sweet Cameron when Kai and Kira pull up in a work truck. She rolls down the passenger window and shouts to their third wheel with RedBull-powered laughter: "Hop in biiiiitch! We're going shoooopping!"

Where they're going shopping when we're on a spending freeze until the new fiscal year, and why it takes three of them to go to town is besides the point, but not lost from my attention. My attention--my being--is pierced by the claws of "bitch" shouted at a coworker.

Cameron gleefully hops in and they drive off.

I feel shaken, and it's happening so fast I can't name specific sensations. I finish some tasks in the office, and then head into my work truck and start driving. The tears come just as I pass our fee booth. Woah, it's deep. A deep sadness. Deep, deep crying. Like back in the winter and spring.

I'm sad for the way her words tear down and separate. The pain they cause me. The disgust I feel. 

I'm upset that I was frozen again, zapped. That I could not get out a "I don't want to hear that language at work, Kira" or "That word is offensive and it's oppressive to women. It's not okay at work. Find a different word." out of my mouth in the moment. 

I'm sad that I can't enjoy her presence; I fear it. I'm sad that I'm no longer friends with Kai, and he has no idea my grief or emotions about this.

I feel jolted. Shocked. Life force has been drained and pain cycle activated. Unbelonging. There's not space to be myself around her. Although I'm surprised and confused at the jolt after nearly two months of so much strength and groundedness, there is not self-judgement. I cry and cry as I drive towards town. 

I pull over when I get near Pinyon and walk myself to a tree, where I sit and cry and ground. More practice at letting myself have the experience without attaching meaning or judgement. Knowing from a distance that other people would not have this deep of a reaction to the interaction I overheard. And yet it clouds the rest of my morning. I feel so low and separate, a lowness I haven't felt in two seasons. 

At the same time, I'm angry that she has this effect on me, that my experience is impacted so negatively and deeply, while at this very moment she's probably off laughing with Kai and Cameron having a grand old time.

I reflect on this experience for the next two days. I've already had a one-on-one conversation with the Younger Gal about her language back in April. It doesn't feel like much has changed. Alex has also had conversations about her language at work. He doesn't feel like much has changed. Do I talk to our supervisor? (But he doesn't see as much nuance as me, nor does he have my sensitivity. Last time I talked to him about the Younger Gal, he said "But you're not working with her much, right?" as if I shouldn't have complaints if I'm not often around her.)

If I'm not yet able to confront her in the moment, she will not be aware of the continued negative impact of her words. 

Things do feel more intense in my body, am I making a mountain out of a molehill? How will I feel about Tuesday's experience three weeks from now?

If I want things to change, something has to change. 

On Thursday, I share with Alec what I experienced Tuesday and what I was debating. He validated and understood the severity of the word that starts-with-b-rhymes-with-witch, no matter the context. It's not okay for work.

He also agrees that Younger Gal in romantic relationship with Kai has been poor for our work crew dynamic. She feels empowered and relaxed around him, comfortable to speak however she wants. I've voiced some of this to our supervisor already–the change in dynamic with their 17-year-age-difference romance, he an unofficial crew lead, she a recent college grad seasonal. Many others have expressed this concern, that the crew dynamic/culture has suffered much with those two intertwined, but feel shy to talk to the supervisor about it.

I decide if our supervisor comes to our Monument that day, I'll have a conversation with him about her language. It feels a stretch, he could be unsupportive, but it will help me close a loop. My safety first. 

Later in the day, I have an idea: What if Alec and I talk to our supervisor together? I text Alec. He's in a meeting with our supervisor and he's on board! 

When our supervisor and Alec arrive at the monument, Alec says "So Bill and I were talking a bit about what you and I talked about earlier."

My supervisor asks what I heard her say. I repeat verbatim and briefly say I don't want to hear this at work.

"Was anyone else around who heard?" is his first question.

(What??)

In the end, he says he'll give a reminder about workplace language to everyone at next Tuesday's safety meeting, so no one's singled out – though he's willing to have a one-on-one talk with her if need be. He's more of a black-and-white person, but it's better than nothing. Mostly I feel very supported by Alec, and was so relieved to not have to do this one alone. I could have, but it was easier together.

***

Now I'm practicing phrases of Calling Out

My intention is that one day, I will be able to assertively call out the Younger Gal in the moment. It'll be a HUGE celebration, I will tell everyone here!

To get there, I will visualize myself saying these phrases in her presence. I'll say them aloud in front of the mirror with serious eyes.

Summer Poem Map

L e a r n i n g

Plumbing. Electric Theory. HVACr.
Vulva. Cervical Fluid. Fertility Awareness.
Grounding. Life Force. Energy Healing.

N e s t i n g
Inner child altar.
Photo collage of love.
Fern. Peperonia. Rosemary.
Bidet. Cloth

P l a y i n g
Fabric strips. Amish knot rag rugs.
CHANI app.
Mini-zines. 
Scissors. Glue. Envelopes. Paper worlds. 
Lush canyon floor.

C o n n e c t i n g
Mushrooms.
Monsoons. Flooding. Road closures.
Garden hanging by a thread.
Yellow flower confetti bloom!

S h a r i n g S p a c e
Marie & Chris. 
4am alarms. 
The covid evac. Sonesta Suites. 
House lights ON - always.

P a r t n e r i n g
Evan. Cat.
Hotspot borrowing.
Netflix returns.
Fridays at Pueblo.
Sharing pancakes.
Ask for help.
Being seen.

B e c o m i n g
Grounded.
Assertive.
Precise.
Mirrors.
Seen.

---