This is my hammock.
I try to get a little #hammocktime everyday. It’s one of the #littlerituals that keep me grounded in these sunny summer months of houseguests, maddeningly inconsistent schedules, and delicious garden-beckonsÂ days.
Picturesque, isn’t it? Lush and indulgent and a little bit of a princess-thing, you might say. When you look at these pictures from the outside my life might look magical. And it is. It often is.
But there are other, tougher truths behind the need for this little ritual.
When you look at this photo you do not see theÂ child struggling with a chronic illness so severe she’s had to quit cross-country, and babysitting, and quite nearly, school.
You don’t see my own fragile body and the way migraines are kept at bay only because my mornings take three hours to start, and my days end early, and my work is part time.
You don’tÂ know the story behind a pregnancy ending in still birth, and they way ten years of chronic pain impacts a marriage, or how hard it is to rebuild tribe. You can’t seeÂ the inner turmoilÂ that comes fromÂ having a call so strong it aches, and all the ways that lives in your body and comes out through your pores if you don’t tend to it ever so carefully, every every day.
My life is magic. It is filled with children who play ukulele, and fold a thousand paper cranes, and draw costumes all day on electronic sketch pads. It’s graced by a partner who still wants to make me laugh, dear ones who call me “darling,” and parents who shelter me on the ocean’s shores. It’s kissed by work I love, and clients I like, and the time and income to pursue them (at least a little). It even has two very silly dogs.
Yes my life is magic, and so is yours. But magic has it’s darkness, just as does any light. The hot has it’s cold. The ebb has it’s flow.
And so, I go to the hammock. where it can all gather. Where I can see what swirls around me, and within me, and between the people I love.Â Where I can still my breath and catch my thoughts, feel the ache in my heart, and the gratitude in my bones.
The hammock catches it all, distills it to an elixir, brews a balm for my soul.
What about you, friend? How do you pay attention to your magic?
Are you ready to catch the ebb and the flow of it, the hot and the cold of it?
CanÂ you create the little ritual that lets you say “hello, there!” to your life?
Will you join me hammock?
I think you are.
I know you can.
I hope you will.