"The Rewild(her)'s Journey": Big Sur Day 2

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"To be fully human, fully myself,  To accept all that I am, all that you envision,   This is my prayer.  Walk with me out to the rim of life,  Beyond security.  Take me to the exquisite edge of courage   And release me to become." - Sue Monk Kidd, "When the Heart Waits" 

"To be fully human, fully myself, 

To accept all that I am, all that you envision,  

This is my prayer. 

Walk with me out to the rim of life, 

Beyond security. 

Take me to the exquisite edge of courage  

And release me to become." - Sue Monk Kidd, "When the Heart Waits" 

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I woke up with the rising sun and stripped down to give myself a bucket bath in a bush behind my tent. I poured icy water over my dirt-streaked skin, attempting to wash my face, and NOT attempting to wash my hair. I lingered in the warm sun, feeling energy pulsating through my skin over my whole body. Today was a great day to be alive.

I drove down the mountain to Sand Dollar Beach, where I spent a good portion of the morning drinking coffee, reading, and sketching the landscape. Whether intentional or not, I always end up praying or focusing my thoughts to the Divine or Universe when I'm sitting on a shoreline of any kind. I asked the waves, "Why am I here? What am I doing? I quit my job, I stopped my life as it used to be, and now I'm here with you. What do you want me to do next?" 

I opened up my book, "When the Heart Waits", by Sue Monk Kidd and immediately came across this..."You can't control the life in you. It grows and emerges in its own time. Be patient and nurture it with all your love and attentiveness. Be still and cooperate with the mystery God is unfolding in you. Let it be... We're being asked to nurture the implanted seed of the divine nature and bring it forth in our souls. " (pg 111)

There it was. My answer was to "let it be". The waves licked the shore, pulling back rocks in a cascade sounding like a giant rain-stick shaking. I felt a peace in the unknown, and I felt like I was (and still am) incubating something in my creative spirit before giving birth to the creation of whatever "it" is.

And that is where letting go always leads...birth.

Eckhart wrote, "The fruit of letting go is birth". 

I sketched the landscape and felt free. 

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Later that day I found myself in the Henry Miller Library, where I discovered a little piece of heaven on earth! I'm a bit of a bookworm, and spent a couple of hours reading poetry and picking out a book to purchase. Looking to the collection of authors on the shelves, I knew I had found my people, and now I was standing in a land that had transformed these artists and their work into a deeper beauty. 

After picking up a new book, I set out for Andrew Molera campgrounds, where I heard I could pitch a tent near the water, and where the cliffs turn into soft meadows of grass and beach.

Upon arriving, the winds had picked up, and I decided to hop out of my van and hike out to the campsite before committing to it for the night. My intuition was not at peace.

The campsite was gorgeous! An open meadow surrounded by trees and shrubs next to a freshwater creek that lead to a sandy beach. But the winds were strong, and I wasn't confident the my tent skills would hold up for the night. So I left.

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I was learning to listen to intuition. She speaks wisdom, and what I found later was beauty and peace beyond my imagination. 

I pulled into a campsite and asked if they had any walk-in sites available, and to my surprise they had one left!  

Not only did they have one left, it was one that overlooked the ocean on a cliff and had its own private path to a private viewpoint where I could drink tea and sketch uninterrupted!  

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I set up camp, cooked some dinner, bundled up, and watched the sunset from my private cliff while my bunny neighbors came out to say hello. The colors in the sky slipped from blues and into burnt oranges and pinks, reminding me of the light of life. I felt that I was beginning a new life, that I was stepping into boldness, power, and that light. That this new thing was growing inside me like a baby in my womb, and that it was now my job to nurture it and prepare it for birth. 

I sat there a long time. And I waited. The Full Moon rose to my left, and I welcomed her into her Summer Solstice. There it was again- birth.  

Marissa Quinn