by Krista | Oct 11, 2017 | Spring
This week I interviewed and wrote articles on six business women from California. I loved hearing their stories about the incredible difficulties they faced on their business journeys, their moments of doubt and wanting to give up, the people who gave them the love they needed to keep trying and press on.
One woman told me that she has a group of friends who always remind her:
“It will get hard, but you’re not alone.”
I love that so much.
The truth is that providing for ourselves and our families, earning a living, finding the money to pay bills, they’re all difficult and exhausting and can leave us feeling very much alone. Especially when things go wrong and we can’t provide or earn a living or find the money to pay bills.
In those hard times, the easiest thing to do is pull back from others, hide our fears and insecurities and self-doubts, pretend that everything is peachy. But, for me at least, that only deepens the feeling of being alone, and intensifies the fearful belief that maybe this time we’ll fail so spectacularly that there will be no recovery.
This year I’ve been practicing truth. Sharing my reality with those I trust.
Being that vulnerable has scared the hell out of me. Every single time I’m sure that this time, this situation, this failure or fear, is going to mean rejection.
But I do it anyway. Because I want real connections with my loves. Not pretend ones where I let them think I’ve got it all together and don’t need them. I DON’T have it all together, and I DO need them. So much.
I need them to make me laugh when I’m freaking out.
I need them to assure me that yes, it really can get worse, but I’ll still love you and think you’re awesomesauce.
I need them to let me cry without attempting to fix anything, and then try to fix it with outrageous suggestions that just might work.
I need them to say, “Me too.” “I get it.” “babe, I’m so sorry, that really sucks.”
I need them to hug me tight and remind me that I’m worth loving.
And they need those things from me.
So I do it anyway. I keep the Skype meeting and pick up the phone call. I answer the text message and send the email. I invite them over and I go to their place. I keep those lines of connection open even when it terrifies me, because I want real relationships and real love based on reality.
I do it anyway most of the time. I still have my moments where I let shame and fear override my love and trust.
The past few months have tested me as another job fell through and I got further behind on paying my bills. I felt foolish and small and not good enough. I hid out for a bit, believing the lie that people would only want to spend time with me if I was successful and savvy with all my ducks in a row.
A friend found me in that sad place. And dragged me out. We talked and cried together and shared how we were actually both in the same sad place, but didn’t know it until we opened up. We felt so much better. Still poor, still scared, but better because we weren’t alone, and someone understood.
So, comforted in our not-aloneness, we press on. We keep trying – because that’s our superpower – we keep loving and letting others love us – because life isn’t worth living otherwise – and we keep hoping against hope knowing the hard times won’t stay forever.
“It will get hard, but you’re not alone.”
by Krista | Oct 8, 2017 | Spring
It’s a beautifully dark and cozy Sunday, my favorite sort of day for pottering in the garden, baking bread, and snuggling under a blanket with a British murder mystery.
We’ve had such beautiful rain this week, and our farm yard has transformed from dry, crispy, and brown, to soft and supple with a luscious green shimmer as new grass shoots up everywhere.
When I knew rain was coming, I set out buckets and tubs to capture as much as I could. This morning I ladled it out into my watering can and gave more precious rainwater to my cucumbers and lettuces, then planted rosellas and capsicums and gave the last of the rainwater to them.
Once everything was planted I dug up the last of my new potatoes, they smell so good, and brought the chipotle and poblano peppers I’ve been drying upstairs.
I’d never grown chipotles until this year, and am delighted by their shape, like tiny old-fashioned Christmas lights. I smoked a few over winter and added them to chili, but these ones I’m using both for seeds and to flavor vinegar.
I like how flavored vinegar and oil add greater depth of taste and fragrance to salad dressings, sauces, and especially slow-cooked meat to make it extra tender. You can even use the flavored vinegar to make quick pickles like these pickled beets or these plump pickled cherries.
And, frankly, I like them because they’re beautiful. It gives me a happy little thrill to see glistening glass bottles of deliciousness lined up on my pantry shelves, filled with fresh herbs, colorful peppers, and whole spices.
While I gardened, I put bread dough on to rise. Cozy Sunday afternoons are made even better with fresh bread rolls slathered with butter and our very own honey. Add a cup of hot pineapple sage tea and a good book, and I’m a thoroughly contented soul.
I’m thankful for this beautiful weekend, for visits with dear friends, reading by lamplight, and good food to nourish our bodies for a busy week ahead.
What do you like to do over the weekend that restores you for a new week? xo
Chipotle Pepper Vinegar
Ingredients:
1/2 cup fresh or dried chipotle peppers
2 cups vinegar
Directions:
Combine all ingredients in a sterlized glass bottle, seal, and set in a dark, cool place for 1-2 weeks until it reaches the flavor you like. Strain and use.
by Krista | Oct 3, 2017 | Spring
It’s been a long few months of drought here in Queensland. Every day we looked up into clear blue skies and wondered when the rains would come, hoping it would be soon.
The storm clouds came this week, heavy and dark, and dropped gentle, steady rain upon us. Water soaked into the cracked earth, softening grass browned and crisped by the sun, cleaning the air and washing dust from every surface.
It brought life back to our little world, and hope to my heart. Watching the rain fall reminded me that no matter how desolate the situations we find ourselves in, relief and life will return one day. We have no control over when it will return, but we can make the waiting easier by caring for our dear selves, connecting to those amazing people who love us, and finding something good each day to keep us going.
I spent much of Sunday on the back veranda, watching the rain fall while I read books, wrote in my journal, and took a nap. I’ve been reading “The Gifts of Imperfection” by Brené Brown again. It’s one of those books I like to read regularly to realign myself with wholehearted living, a life of courage, compassion, and connection.
This read-through showed me how I’d slipped back into self-sufficiency, the wonky kind, the kind that makes you believe you have to do everything by yourself, that asking for help or being in need makes you a bother, an annoyance, instead of just a regular ol’ human being. And I closed my book and went inside and pulled a chair up to Bear’s desk and we had a good chat. I told him the fears and stresses I’d been keeping inside so I wouldn’t annoy him, and he laughed and shook his head and pulled me in for a cuddle and reminded me that he actually likes hearing about my fears and stresses AND happinesses and successes. That’s what love is. That’s what friendship is.
And I cried and hugged him tight back because when you’ve been keeping stuff bottled up out of fear or shame and you can finally let it out and realize that you never, ever had to keep it stuffed in after all, well, it’s quite a relief. And you feel both foolish and inestimably comforted at the same time.
It’s funny, isn’t it, how much comfort there is in letting your guard down and being weak and wobbly and messy, and discovering you’re loved anyway?
And funny how we can’t find that comfort until we’re brave enough to reach out and connect with people. To let them see us with all our doubts and worries and spectacular stuff-ups.
It’s a risk, always. But one worth taking. And bit by bit, person by person, we build a little retinue of people who love us anyways, always, no matter what, and let us love them that way in return.
I’m grateful for that kind of love from Bear, from my friends, and for the comfort and strength it provides.
I’m also grateful for the non-people comforts of life, the rainy afternoons and good books and bowls of homemade soup.
We had lots of soup this week, drawing inspiration from what’s growing in the gardens: onions, carrots, potatoes, fresh herbs. Sunday was a creamy Curried Carrot with lots of fresh ginger, while today was Beef Vegetable with carrots, onions, peas, and a rich, savory broth fragrant with thyme.
Tonight I posted my first newsletter in a loooooong time, talking about what happens in life When Healing Changes Us. Click here to read it, and click here to subscribe to future newsletters.
Now I’m going to settle in with a cup of elderberry and hawthorne tea and read a bit before bed. I have a big day of wood-working ahead of me tomorrow, and an early night is sounding rather wonderful.
What are some of your favorite non-people comforts? xo
by Krista | Oct 1, 2017 | Spring
I’m listening to the sound of clanging steel and shields being thumped as Bear and Brett, our newest medieval member, practice medieval combat out back while cold wind whistles through the trees.
I’m cozy and warm on the veranda under a fluffy red blanket while I watch them swing and block, surrounded by books and journal, camera and pillow, thoroughly enjoying this beautifully dark and chilly Sunday.
It’s been a wonderful weekend. Truly. My heart is full after visits with dear friends, bike rides with Bear down the bumpy back roads near our farm, and time in my gardens planting purple beans, rosellas, cucumbers, and scarlet runner beans.
We had the loveliest smattering of rain this morning, not enough to even dampen the ground, but enough to clean the air and brighten our spirits. Hopefully one day soon we’ll get the drenching rains we so desperately need.
There wasn’t even a hint of rain yesterday, when our good friends Gary, Lorraine, and Leah arrived to spend the day. Instead, clear blue skies and hot sunshine sent us out to our bush for an afternoon hike.
I love it out here. So much. Just us, massive gum trees, and the occasional wallaby and kangaroo hopping away through the long grass.
It’s incredibly peaceful standing under those massive trees, listening to the wind sigh and rustle through the leaves like waves on the shore.
There are tiny beauties as well, bright orange fruit from the gumbi gumbi trees that look like vivid red raspberries when you crack them open, feather fronds of moss on fallen logs, and this seashell that Lorraine spotted sitting on an old tree trunk. We have no idea how it got there, but it made us smile to imagine its journey from the sea to our bush.
It’s incredibly dry here right now. The brittle grass snaps underfoot, and the usual carpet of wildflowers is nowhere to be found. But there are still lovely things, like the huge rabbit we startled and this gorgeous ruffled lichen looking like a bit of lace against the roughness of the wood.
It was a lovely hike, leisurely and slow, with lots of time to bask in the wildness and solitude of the bush.
Soon our neighbors’ horses will take up residence here, and we’ll have new beauties to look for as we amble through the trees.
The blokes are done combat now, so it’s time for a cup of curried carrot soup and toasted sandwiches with caramelized onions and sharp cheddar cheese. The animals have been fed, gardens watered, and we have a whole afternoon stretching before us. On such a cold, blustery day like this, I can’t imagine anything better than reading, cuppas, and perhaps even a nap.
What do you like to do on a quiet Sunday afternoon? xo
by Krista | Sep 30, 2017 | Spring
On these hot spring days, I love getting up well before sunrise, basking in coolness and darkness, listening to the world slowly wake up: kookaburras first, then roosters, and finally the sheep and goats, eager to start grazing before the searing heat sends them scuttling for the nearest shade tree.
Yesterday I spent the morning pulling weeds with my friend Avis on her farm a few hills over. We do a trade: hay for pulling weeds. It’s a great trade, since we both receive what we need and have a jolly time visiting for hours while we dig and yank and tidy. It was so good to talk about life, real life, while we worked. The hard and sad stuff, the beautiful and inspiring stuff, the stuff that is so hilarious it had us bursting out laughing over there in the middle of nowhere. I returned home with a full heart and a trunk overflowing with freshly dug turnips, just picked tangelos, lemons, and limes, and a potted jasmine that will soon be clambering up and over my gardens. It’s good to work with friends.
This week I needed some extra rest, so I brought in some yarn to play with while I recovered. I did some finger-knitting and made tassels and then remembered some handmade glass beads a friend had given me awhile back. So I brought those in too and made cheery beaded tassels to put on our Christmas tree and wherever else I fancy.
It was lovely sitting there, the late afternoon sun shimmering on the walls and setting the beads aglow. I’ve loved beads since I was a little girl, and have always had jars or bowls full of my favorites sitting around the house. Just seeing them with their rich colors and intricate patterns makes me happy.
The tassels make me smile too, mostly because they look like dancing women, twirling and bobbing with nary a care in the world.
In a few hours, good friends are coming over to see our baby chicks, go for a hike in the bush, and visit for hours. I’m looking forward to it so much.
The sun is up now, so it’s time to brew coffee, tidy up, and put the bread rolls on to rise.
What are you looking forward to this weekend? xo
