Oh Oregon~

Rivers and roads, rivers and roads, rivers and roads lay over one another in a lattice work that stitches different planes of life together.  The ribbons of asphalt that laid a path always onward, some twisting and turning, while others push through hills and valleys impervious to the sculpted terrain and simply plow through.  Days of roads are strangely exhausting.  The scenery blurring past in fast-forward, so I never actually see it.  The horizon, a perpetually changing goal that we keep hurling ourselves toward. 

The roads keep us on course.

But the rivers, they have my heart.

The Pistol River, the Rogue River, the Applegate River and Illinois River all swim now in my veins.  They carried me, with my lightness, with my simple happiness at hearing the water lick and slide over rocks.  And they let me leave barges heavy with heartache and grief that they are, even now, carrying to the Great Sea. 

The thing about being in a 16-foot trailer or a truck with my husband and 20-month-old son, and stepdaughter is that there is no escape.  None.  There is no bedroom door to close, no true space to be had when we are all waking up in a little box on top of each other.

And so rivers and roads become medicine.  The river to offer myself into, submerge my entirety and surrender into a current I know by heart.  The roads to lose myself in a wholly different way, I’ve been taking long drives my whole life.  Something happens once the hum of the engine and music blur into a seamless song…I am ensconced in my own nest.  My imagination declares itself ruler and I roam wild and free.

Oregon provides a lot of both of these. 

We just spent 16 days in Oregon.

Rivers and roads carried us.

The coast with its grand altars crumbling into the sea, epic monuments of stone carved by the ocean left me swooning with dreams shrouded in ritual.  Long beaches arching and yawning, provided ample space for us to careen and amble.  One Sunday morning the kids and I took to the beach from where we’d parked for the night on a large pull out from 101.  The ocean was in low tide but had generously left an inch of water for hundreds of yards the full extent of the beach.  The sky reflected perfectly in the sea mirror, clouds lacing sand all dotted with sand dollars and seashells.  Few things are as magical as that stretch of coast near Gold Beach.  Rain forest crawls to the edge of cliffs bravely securing the topsoil, for now.

But all things come to a change, so we hung a right and headed inland.  

For a little pragmatic information, I figured I’d share some stuff, like the fact that we

are driving a 2001 double cab Tacoma towing a 16-foot trailer.  That we had the axle flipped on the trailer to give it a lift of 8 more inches so we could traverse roads less traveled.  We’ve been in some harry situations.  Wayland gets pretty passionate about getting to certain locations, but, so far, so good.  Today we made a U-turn on a highway, but that’s beside the point.  The point is, we are towing a trailer and my husband likes to pretend he’s just driving a 4x4 and playing.  So, we get to go to some cool places we wouldn’t have if I’d been listened to. 

Like Oak Flats on the Illinois River where we woke to rain softly pattering its sweet song against the trailer.  Parked on the rounded cobble stones of river rocks, the sky a soft grey that felt like cashmere against my skin, we got ready to depart and brave the now slick with mud rocky hill we had charged down the previous day.  The air was cool, and the rain even cooler, but my need to be in water drove me down to where Wayland was already waist deep in the river.  I shed my clothes on the willow-covered banks to walk naked into the swollen cold depths of the Illinois. 

Shedding the skins of identity is all part of this course.  That river was kind enough to peel away some old stories and push me back onto the banks lighter, clearer and kinder.

And after 14 days on the road, we landed in a hive of community in the Applegate Valley.  There can be nothing sweeter than playing with life long friends in lakes and rivers and watching bellies swell with babies and getting to celebrate life.  Boones farm nourished us in all the right places.  There is a depth that is missed when hopping from place to place.  Getting to settle into a rhythm with friends, with food, with waking to the same view, and watching the sun set over the same ridge.  All the simple things we call routine, they become so precious when on the road for an extended period.

Boones farm provided all of this and more, so grateful to all the friends who came and played and the life we got to celebrate.

Yet, this journey calls us to keep moving…

Back home we live on a couple acres on a beautiful ridge, I can see a bazillion stars at night and hear goats through out the day.  San Francisco is an hour away, but with a baby it feels more like years away.  I miss city time when we’re home.  And now that we’re living the trailer life I was having a particular hankering for it.  I wanted fancy foods, and murals, I wanted to see some diversity and shimmy around in the pulse that only a real city can provide.  I am ready for Portland. 

We are down to 3 of us, 2 grown ups and a toddler. (The tween is safe and sound; we put her on a plane as planned so she could be at a family reunion)

Three days of food trucks and coffee that made me drool, of fresh ice cream and stunning hikes, of hordes of tattooed men with beards (like, really, HORDES), of bridges and so very many nice people. I felt welcome, and I loved it, it was my first time and I would

have stayed.  But, we have a plan and so we left this morning. 

Our gypsy wagon hopped the 5 north and through some side venues until we landed a few hours ago in the Olympic National Forest.

I may make a bed of fern leaves and moss and snooze to the sounds of ancient trees swaying in a slow dance.

The Hustle is Real

A bevy of plant medicine nestled in the ferns

One of the primary objectives of this 3-month sojourn was and is to build my business.  Which, is slowly, also becoming my husbands business.  Many of you who know me, know that I have been working with a company called Doterra.  A wonderful company with a focus on health and wellness, leading with essential oils.

It is a multi level marketing company.

Yes, I am a network marketing businessperson.

It is a bit like coming out of the closet, saying this out loud and proud.

I have had varied reactions to this fact.  There is a lot of uninformed judgment tossed my way when I share this.  I have had friends and new acquaintances let me know in no uncertain terms that they “don’t get involved with pyramid schemes”.  Great, me neither.

Network marketing is not a scheme.

It is NOT a get rich quick game.  (for real)

It is a job.

It is a legitimate and inspired way to make a living. 

Direct sales is a way for so many of us to have our own businesses with next to no overhead and the ability to define our hours, our commitment and our paycheck.

And like anything, it grows or not by the amount of energy, time and commitment I pour into my business.  It is a business.

This particular company has set themselves up in this format because they wanted a person to learn and thus use their products successfully.  How many products have I purchased from a store shelf only to have it sit in my bathroom for a year before I wondered what in the world I was supposed to be doing with that item?

Doterra wanted people to have the products available with an education.   I am that educator, along with thousands of other Doterra Wellness Advocates. 

And, so, here we are, back at the beginning, one of the primary objectives to this grand adventure was and is to build our business.  We had the idea that as we arrived in campgrounds to hand out flyers as an invite to come to our camp where we would share the oils.   When we conjured this plan from the bold launching pad of our living room it sounded perfect. 
People tend to be a bit bored in the evening; we would be offering them a pleasurable activity.  How easy!  Just wander around the campground fill to bursting with summer adventurers and make new friends, invite ‘em over and teach an essential oil class.  SO EASY!  From the idea den of our living room.

And then we were in a campground, a packed one, with tons of folks wandering all over the gorgeous trails, taking in the ocean vistas and generally just enjoying themselves in the thing we call nature. 

Wayland looked at me, “so, we doing a class tonight?”.   What is the junior to panic?  Whatever that is, that is what I was suddenly encased in.  Junior panic.  An onslaught of excuses and stalling techniques (all quite advanced if I may say), soaked my mind, they were my only thoughts. 

He was challenging me, as he is wont to do, to step up and follow through with our plan to build our business and keep him from selling cars.  I am now the provider for our family, I have to hand out those flyers.  I have to go talk to those vista-seeking campers jovially wandering the trails.  I have to. 

This sinks in. 

I proceed to go through a wash cycle of tantrums in the sanctity of my own mind.  I don’t want to!!!  This banner call screamed through my psyche several hundred times, a desperate ache to find a way out, any way out pulsed around my veins in a fervent thumping.  And slowly, but with great strength I regained the reigns of my thoughts and began to breathe.  Slowly, deeply and with purpose I remembered why I wanted to do this in the first place.  Yes, the money is needed, and that comes with the growing of our business.  But, money has never been a big enough motivator for me.  I need purpose, purpose I can feel, that fuels me and makes me feel like I’m doing the right thing.

I remembered why I chose to take on Doterra as a business.  That I believe in the power of essential oils, that I love empowering people with tools that work.

I found solace in that.

At camp my daughter and I made up some little square hand written invites (I hadn’t printed the fancy ones).  She and I then walked around the camp courageously speaking to folks we didn’t know, making connections and honestly feeling nourished by getting to offer something. 

We set up our campsite for guests and laid out oils and information and 2 people came.  We handed out 6 invites and 2 wonderful women came. 

I got to sit with these ladies in a forest, and share oils. 

That is my job. 

And now that the first one is complete, my anxiety, my nervousness of sharing, of stepping up and being involved with people (I’m SUPER good at hiding out) is a hair less.

I’m praying with practice that these skills will become more and more natural for me.

In the meantime, you want essential oils? Hit me up!  ;)

But, for real, hit me up.

Trailer Life, the Beginning

In our hunt for change we are challenging ourselves each day to do just that.  We’ve created the ideal cauldron for such transformation.  Two adults, one almost teen girl, and one toddler in a 16 foot trailer, shake and stir and et voila: change, or boil in the fire of intimacy.  Accept, because resistance is futile.

Here we are 6 days into our journey and facing some of the challenges we foresaw, yet they looked so much easier from our couch in our spacious home.  Falling asleep inches away from my husband and baby with my step-daughter hovering a foot and a half above us.  Waking up inches from my husband and baby with my step daughter hovering a foot and a half above us.   Eating elbow to elbow, toe to toe.

Or we are in the truck, a more compact version of our sleeping and eating formations.  

You get the idea. 

We are knotted together, and sometimes the knots feel cozy and safe and heart nourishing.  Other times it feels scratchy against my skin, irritating with every flex of us.  We are becoming one animal, one body of movement synchronized by 4 bodies swaying in and out of rhythms.  When we are synced, there is laughter, graceful anticipation of needs and wants, and an overall joy of being together. 

The yoke that binds then feels like a satin nest.

We have travelled north from Sebastopol, our first stop being a dear friends home near Garberville.  We stayed 3 nights with Bays God Momma Alison where we got to play in the Eel river, wander through redwoods and discover our trailer legs.  Having our first stop be one of my best friends was like a soft opening, we got to land, and have the loving support of Alison before jumping all the way in the deep end.

And as it turns out, the deep end is gorgeous. 

Yesterday we hiked from our camp spot at Patricks Point, winding through coastal forest laced in wild flowers whose purple and yellow blossoms were spread wide under a warm July sun.  Like grand altars to forgotten gods huge stone precipices loomed out over the sea, as we climbed one I brought up the rear and used that to sneak off on a side trail.  I wound around the pillar until I was perched hundreds of feet over the crashing waves nestled into stone and surrounded by delicate purple blooms. 

Alone in this nest I felt the freedom that gets churned to life on lengthy adventures.  I felt the stack of my daily concerns that have cemented my shoulders and neck fall away.  I felt the tremendous weight of my modern life and sang it off of my bones.

I gave myself the time and space to sit and slow down without any anxiety of how I should be a mother, wife or busily doing person, I waited until that wave crashed all the way.  When I got up, I was lighter, softer, and my breath came fuller.  I am grateful for the spot over the sea. 

I climbed the rest of Wedding Rock to find my family perched and my son covered in dirt smiling as he joyfully climbed all the rocks he could get his little legs to gain purchase on. 

These are our days now.  We were driving to Oregon today, that was the plan.  But a camp site caught our eye and here we are in Mill River.   As soon as we got settled (which takes about 7 minutes with the trailer) we wandered into the wilderness.  We followed the 19 month old through a hollowed and fell redwood to a dried riverbed where we made fairy boats to float in the remaining pools.

We are sliding into a fiercely sweet rhythm, and I am grateful.

For a few years my husband and I have been having a regular conversation about how to change our lives.  All of our parents are still working hard to pay their bills, and none of them are too happy about it.  So, here we are in our late 30's with 2 kids and we figure, hey, let's be smarter than them, let's start doing something different now.
We live in the San Francisco bay area where both of us were born, and mostly raised, my entire family is within an hour of our home, and his is scattered a little south of SF.   We love it here, it's our home, we have history here that go generations deep.  We are not in any hurry to exit, even under the extraordinary financial pressures of this area.
We make a good living, yet we are living month to month.  Each month we get excited to put away money, and every month we watch it disappear under the weight of good food, a car payment, insurance, gasoline, clothes (growing children), and the tension-causing "treat" category.  Because, after all, we work hard and deserve some treats!
So we put away less than hoped, and we commit to "doing better" the next month.  And now here we are two years down the line of this concerted effort with really nothing to show but some stress lines around our eyes, some weathering from heated arguments, and some really sweet memories of delicious dinners, and a few get aways.
We want more out of life.
The conversation has been getting harder as my husband has been working at a job that he's been ready to leave for about 6 years.
Five months ago I tossed out the idea of him quitting his job and us living on my income in Thailand, or Croatia.   He laughed.  But slowly, this idea of living outside of the metered out parameters became more and more legitimate.  We both went down a few different rabbit holes.  His involved over land vehicles with extensive equipment. Mine involved tropical islands and hammocks.
Eventually we braided our findings together in a vision that combined a tropical island and building a home.  The day we got the loan we realized it wasn't the right thing for us.
I felt frustrated and exhausted from treading water in the uncertainty of how to move forward in our lives.  And then, divine providence struck and to this day we have no idea who uttered the word, but there it sat like a large looming mother waiting to take us in, nurture us and transform us.  That word, that idea that took shape and now sits in our driveway, our beloved (we hope) Trailer.
Suddenly Wayland was scouring craigslist, and I was trolling RV and Camper sites hoping for a mint condition Airstream, or a Casita, or some such pristinely adorable vintage mini home.  It only took a few weeks for us to settle into the reality that this shit was NOT in our budget.
And then we found our beautiful compromise.   A 1990 Layton trailer that had been coddled by an elderly couple in a tiny town.
Cut to tonight.
The last night in our absolutely perfect bed.
The trailer (haven't known her long enough to name her) is packed with all we hope we may need for the next three months, clothes, art supplies for craft time, flashlights, auxiliary batteries, propane, a solar panel, more clothes, diapers, toiletries and not much more.
We are hitting the road tomorrow with our 12 year old daughter & 19 month old son not just to expose them to the magnificence of the redwoods and Oregon coast, Glacier Park, or the alien landscape of Zion, which is actually reason enough.
We are going to build a business on the road.
I have been a part of a wonderful company for a few years and now is the time to see what we can create.
In trying to create a different path way than our parents we recognize the need for residual income, and that is what we are mining with this business.  Sharing health and wellness with people in beautiful places.
It's the eve before we depart and I still can't digest that we are leaving tomorrow to build our dream.
We are going to build a dream..