Feeling so proud!
I almost want to change my blog name from “My Mythic Life” to “Becomming Real” because that’s been the process for me over the past 7 months.
Putting into the fire, who I was pretending to be.
Having myself, through love, revealed.
This work, combined with coming out of my twenties, I turn 30 on Sunday, blessed up by the planetary alignments, fuck I’m starting to feel great!
I’ve been craving adventure, ceremony.
I almost flew off island (previous blog) but made the choice to stay and trust.
Yesterday after 6 am fitness class, I was drinking my morning coffee, snuggled up with Minnie (a 21 year old soul who I’ve called into my life to bring love, softening, nurturing, feminine energy around the home, to help me be in that role for my man.) when I got a message from my friend Vernon, asking if I wanted to go Strawberry picking.
Picking berries takes such patience and precense and is not my preferred fun BUT he has a friend with a truck who is going to give us a ride on the beach all the way out to Rose Spit, ON the “Day Out Of Time”!)... Fine.
Strawberry Fields Forever? Yes.
Did I literally have to lay down in the plants, calm my mind and look with precense as if I dropped a wedding ring? Also yes.
Was this challenging, frustrating and bringing up young stuff? Yes.
Did I feel a sense of what it was like to gather fruit for days and days to feed my family for the coming winter? A glimpse.
Did I feel my ancestors with me on the day where the veil is thinnest, on the land where creation was said to take place, at the edge of the world? Definitely yes.
Did I stay up there for 5+ hours, with only 2 naps? Yes!
Binge ate half a bucket but still got enough to make... get ready for it Gramma, JAM!
There is something about squishing, boiling and pouring the sweet sticky berry goo into jars that feels so REAL!
Real, wild strawberries I worked to pick, with the elements, alongside (well usually, cutting off to snatch up from his row!) my friend and teacher.
Made enough jam to give a jar to him, my mother and one for me and my man (who is going to be SO PROUD when he gets home! He said he hasn’t had Thimble berry jam since his Noni passed away so... guess I better get picking!)
Cheers to nobody being able to taste the squished bugs and hugs to my grandparents for shining their light down on me at this time!