Ideas & Daydreams

I felt a breeze of Australia today. I was putting Maisley in her car seat and out of nowhere this rush of air came through me like a whisper on a whim.

The sun, a smell, the air.

It was transporting and invigorating. It filled up my wanderlust tank in a split second. It was Australia, in Carlsbad. I felt it.

Australia is my daydreamer’s paradise. The place she goes while sitting in traffic or on a walk with Maisley. Specific spots all around the city come flooding into her: Watson’s bay, the coastal walk, Lord Nelson’s Brewery.

Sometimes I think those rush of beautiful memories are more divine than just a daydream.  As if they come straight from the Mother Nature and God collective. Those two creators sit amongst the stars, gleefully sending us beautiful signs of wonder right in front of us, and wonder we once knew.

I asked my beautifully creative photographer friend how ideas come to her. Are they abstract? Concrete? Do they come in color, words, images?

She told me that she writes in her morning pages every single day. While most of it is just stream of consciousness, she finds gems of ideas hidden in the words. She allows herself time to daydream so that she can create and experiment with original ideas, not just those she sees on Pinterest or Instagram. And she travels. Whoa does she travel.

She then returned the question.

An idea or thought typically comes into my mind either from something someone said, or a little pop from another train of thought. It floats around the chatter of my mind for a few days.

From the front, to the back, to the front again. It persists. Sometimes it bothers me.

A few other ideas begin circulating.

Then, without warning, a bigger idea comes into the flow. I call this thought, “the closer”. It comes in hot. It’s an idea that somehow makes the other ideas fit into a story or narrative. Then I write without hesitation. With freedom and ferocity.

Whatever the source, I’m just happy to get a breath of my soul place and a visit from creativity every now and again.

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The Motherhood

Before August 16th, 2016, I thought motherhood was a phase that women entered; a personal journey. I thought it was the experience of becoming and being a mother.

{The only thing I really had to compare it to was the journey of entering “womanhood” at age 13 and the cringe-worthy feeling of telling my mom I got my period through the closed bathroom door, only to be met with the over zealous words, “You’re becoming a woman!”. It makes me die in awkward self-consciousness just thinking about it. Going through puberty was a vastly personal and solo journey, with the occasional tip or two from a sister or friend.}

Since August 16, 2016, I have come to understand motherhood in a different, surprising way. While I have certainly entered into a new dimension, the journey has been one of community, collaboration, and support.

I had no idea it was something I would become a part of.

A Motherhood.

I feel as though I have joined a secret club that I never knew I wanted to be a part of, but deeply needed. A true sense of belonging, sealed with the stamp of labor, surrogacy, adoption or any other means.

Other moms, young and old, look at me with compassionate eyes and unconditional respect, as though I’ve arrived. Their expression says, “I get it”.

I’ve been welcomed at mommy and me classes, mom and baby yoga, and lactation support groups. We’ve followed blogs written with raw authenticity and joined Facebook advice groups.

A whole network of moms. Moms who have my back. Moms who have stood where I stand.

At the edge of a bassinet in tears at three in the morning.
In shoes I’m not sure how to fill.
On the rug doing jumping jacks for the chance of a rewarding giggle.
In the bar at a bachelorette party, pumping and dumping.

However you got there, wherever you live, whoever you are; thank you to all moms in the motherhood.  

Thank you for your hard work, your unspoken love, and our unbreakable bond.

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