Everything has changed.
Or mostly everything. Or so it feels.
Previously published on Substack 12/15/24
Although all that has transformed recently has been a choice, change takes time to integrate, especially when one relocates with a family of four plus an elderly mom and two cats from the west side of the country to the east. My family and I have returned to New England to find our new way in a new-to-us state, in the green mountains of northern Vermont, the original homeland of the Western Abenaki people.
We live at the base of a mountain, a very beautiful area with strong, grounding, yet freeing energy. The mountain is why I am here. She called me, and I listened. So, I am here listening some more, listening to learn, listening to find peace, play, practice, presence, and to find the poetry in it all.
The poetry so far is not written; it is felt. It lingers in the breath of this enchanted forest surrounding and inspiring me. Someday, the poetry might come through as words for play, for practice, for peace. But for now, the poetry comes through in how I live, how I dream, and how I intertwine those two to become my new body of work, which I will share more about in the coming months as I weave words into stories and dream images into visions with harmony at the hearth and helm of my heart.
The words, as I mentioned, are a new outlet for me to explore, and I came to them because I was called to them by the Great Mystery, who asked me to share in this new way. So, I listened to the call and responded reluctantly by peering at the past through the tool of my mind, guided by my heart, to moments once lived. Some I never cared to remember, but trusting the inner call, I dedicated myself to organizing those memories into words. Those words became sentences that piled up to form an entire book, a book about my life and the way I came to be whole—or as near to whole as I have ever been. The book is called The Sound of Center: A Memoir of Listening, which I am currently finalizing with the help of a gifted copy editor. In the meantime, I am working to create space through this newsletter so the book will have a soft place to land once it is out in the world.
Everything feels new and different as I become a person who writes and lives in the mountains of Vermont. I am learning to navigate this new way through my Listening Practice, which brings me to stillness each morning to feel and hear what my center, my wholeness, wants to relay. I am learning to embrace the cycles that have ended, transformed, and are still in the in-between before they begin anew. I am learning that I will always be learning, and I will always be in some kind of cycle—ending, transforming, in-between, or anew.
If you are curious, you can read about how a person can be in a season of feeling stuck and aching with loss but can listen to the call of center to dig herself out of depression, confusion, and depletion to know herself more clearly. If you are curious, I have written about such a cycle. I have written my life into stories to make use of their lessons to share with anyone who may need a reminder that love, belonging, and healing within are attainable. There was a time when I wasn’t sure those things were meant for me or even sure what that meant entirely, and I definitely wasn’t sure writing a book was possible, either—until I listened to the sound of center and knew it was possible because I could feel its truth was there waiting for me.
The Sound of Center: A Memoir of Listening, is one of the greatest mysteries of my life so far. While writing this book, I have learned and discovered so much that I wasn’t sure releasing it was even necessary. But then I listened, and I heard the journey wasn’t over. This book, with stories of my past, wants to have a life of its own, and so it is. The book will be available at the beginning of next year.
Much love to you for reading or listening to my first entry, my raw coming out as a writer and a mystic, without the keen eyes of my copy editor to polish and refine. Here at Circle Beauty House, I embark on keeping things simple, intimate, real, and true. Thank you for finding your way to this space. I’ll be back again soon.
