But we rocked it.

We stayed in Marathon, in a tiny little (slightly shabby) cottage on the beach, for only $100 a night. (Yellowtail Inn.)

We ate amazing seafood with our fingers, and laughed as the dog discovered the ocean, and drank a little too much rum, and drunk texted because how could we not.

We did a little dancing, but not nearly enough. And toured Duval St and held hands and smiled and made love.

And we realized two things:

1. We really must live by the beach one day. Preferably in the Keys. For really.
2. We really must make little adventures like this take place more often. Like monthly. Turning the computers off and setting our autoresponders on our email and creating a mini Adventure Week. Every month. Seriously. We do work for ourselves and loving the hell of our life and doing it our way is one of the perks of that. So we’re making that happen.

Justin’s favorite part: “Feeding the fish” over the side of the boat…watching a jellyfish eat his lunch really did it for him.

My favorite part: Snorkeling. And watching Justin feed the fish.

I totally thought this said Tampon Feeding.

It’s funny; I recently remembered I set the intention to create some fun home videos over two years ago.

It makes me smile to realize yet another forgotten intention came to fruition in its own timing. Mmm…the things I used to stress over I’ve learned to trust and allow. That feels good (now to learn how to apply it to other areas).

P.S. Apparently, YouTube censored my video because of the song I used to show our videos and pictures. Ironically, it was the song “One Love” by Bob Marley…you know, the guy all for love and gratitude, instead of greed. Apparently, the record company didn’t get the memo. I wish I had time to redo it but I don’t – and I’m leaving it up because I can still watch it. But I’ve included our photos of our time below as a lame alternative to an otherwise great video.

We stayed two weeks and I so fell in love.

I fell in love with the calm waters of the Gulf, and listening to them as I fell asleep. I sooo loved laying in the sun, soaking up the sun in the cool breeze. The nearby bookstore and library. The beautiful homes with observation decks to see the water. The locally-own natural food store and their aaaaaamazing cheese!

Granted, I haven’t visited in the middle of summer. Maybe I wouldn’t love the area so much then.

But NOW…oh, it so deeply fed my soul to lay my blanket out, and sink my toes in and just BE right in that moment, sinking into meditation and feeling all the scattered parts of myself come back together, reconnecting to that sense of gratitude.

I can see us snowbirding to Grayton over and over again.

In fact, Justin applied to camp host there. Four months in that gorgeous place? Yes please.

Some photos from our time (and our Thanksgiving) at the beach (you can see all the photos here):

And my camera lens has been replace! (Although I think my camera is still in need of repair.)

It’s been fluctuating between beautiful and frigid, so we’ve spent all the beautiful moments outdoors and curled up indoors with hot tea and a space heater when it’s not.

Some photos from our week driving into Pensacola, visiting the Naval museum and the Pensacola lighthouse and beach.

Seriously, loving this space. ♥

Then we heard from the EcoWomb crew, Angela and Clint and their kiddos, that they had broken down not far from us. So we obviously had to packed up and head over to hang with them at their RV! (They are getting repaired today and heading to Texas on their EcoWomb tour.)

It felt soooo good to connect – even for a few hours – with a family so similar to ours in values and ideas and interests. I’m keeping my fingers crossed that we can connect again soon, but on happier terms.

Happy 11-11-11!

This really crazy thing can happen when your 5th wheel tries to roll away without you. Twice.

It can really mess with your sense of stability. Go figure.

The first time it happened in Washington a few months ago while we were visiting the Burditt’s. We could see the slope that time, so we thought we understood it and learned from it.

(Side note: Just to illustrate the difference in my and my husband’s response time. When I saw Jazz moving backward without us, I froze, terrified. Justin? He jumped into action, reaching out and trying to stop it with his bare hands. Definitely the guy you want in a tight spot.)

But the second time it happened (about two months ago) there was no discernible slope. We were at a campground, in a level campsite and had just unhook the truck when it slid back off the two inch leveling blocks with a hard thud to the ground.

Oh, did I mention Zeb and our dog were inside when it happened? Nothing like a mama heart attack.

After that second time I sat outside the RV for hours, unable to go in, unable to unfix my gaze from the front jacks. As if my watchful vigilance was the only thing keeping us in one place.

But it was the dizziness that really messed me up.

Anytime we leveled the jacks, put the slides in or out, hooked up or unhooked, or… you know, made the slightest move, I’d get so dizzy as to almost fall over.

If you’ve been in a 5th wheel or any RV, you know there is always perceivable movement. Which means I was almost always dizzy.

And let me just say, it’s terrifying to feel every subtle movement. Every tiny wiggle, every creak, heaven forbid a freaking lurch…it’s heart-clenching and stomach-dropping and awful.

I knew when we made the choice to travel two years ago I would be confronting a sense of stability. A “sticks and bricks” house denotes at least a certain level of stability.

But I never experienced this ungrounded sense in Benny the Brave. Maybe it was having two axles to rest on instead of one, but I found it easier to lean into an inner sense of stability last year.

This year, though, you could call The Year of the Stretch.

I’ve been stretched and grown in ways that surpass all human comprehension and language. I feel as though I’ve been on a spiritual fast track as I experience the depths of the human condition and come out the other side in awe again and again.

But my inner stability has been the furthest stretch yet.

You see, I actually WANT this uncomfortable experience.

I want to learn how to deeper access my own sense of inner stability, to find a grounded peace within any storm, to walk on the steady ground of my own heart and Soul.

So since that horrific rolling away incident, I’ve leaned into grounding myself.

I’ve spent time barefoot in the grass and the sand, visualized my feet growing roots into the Earth, and I’ve considered piling rocks around Jazz’s wheels and jacks to reaffirm to the world that we are, in fact, grounded and not rolling anywhere.

I’ve also gently leaned into what I may start calling the Great Stretch.

I’ve done my own inner work, sought support from my own coaches, leaned into my own Source, and looked at and processed every element of my reaction and fear, from psychological to spiritual to physical and back again.

It’s as though I’m peeling back layers around this thing called stability, knowing it and its place in my life deeper and through the incident and my own response to it, understanding my own self deeper and with more compassion.

Thankfully the dizziness is rare now. And I’ve found there is a gift in sensing every small movement (lurkers don’t stand a chance).

But more than anything I’m thankfully to be finding my own rugged and unyielding sense of stability, not in my physical environment (although I now understand the importance of grounding our physical selves) but inside myself.

Because I know the world will always change outside of me. I know the unpredictable will continue to occur.

And I also know that it’s my own inner footing that keeps me truly unshakable.

Hope you’re having a beautiful week! I can’t wait to share more with you SOON!

It’s taken me this long to really wrap my head around it and put it into words.

And apparently, I’m still not there because all I can say was it was Uh!Maze!Ing!

Oh, I was nervous. Speaking to a group (even as lovely a group as you all are) had me quite literally vibrating.

So I did my thing…some EFT to get me centered, some love from my coach and peeps, and imagined myself AFTER the call, with the feeling of connection I always feel when I do my thing, the elation I knew I’d feel, the laughter and wahoos I knew I’d make…

And with that…well, then I just had to dance.

15 minutes before the call I cranked up some Peas and let my inner hip-hop out to play. Because really…what burns off the adrenaline, gets you laughing and into that feeling of love, and reminds you of how much fun LIFE is like hearing the lyrics “follow your intuition” and “don’t worry ’bout it; people will walk you through it” while you bounce around your RV?

Perfect, I tell ya.

And then I got on the phone, lost my breath a few times (I talk fast when I’m passionate and I *had* just finished dancing, if you remember?) , totally messed up the technical stuff and still, I shared from the depths of my soul.

And it was Uh!Maze!Ing!

I just can’t begin to describe the feeling of connection I experienced with all the women who shared, and even those who just listened.

So, I thought I’d let them do it for me…

Thank you so much for last night! I don’t know what I was expecting but it was so much more! I have pages of doodles and arrows and notes and my own thoughts scribbled beside. its so amazing to have other people who are experiencing what i am, to share, to hear other opinions. It was so much fun. my mind has been swirling with so many thoughts. Making time to “dig deep” this weekend! – Samantha

My mind is swirling too! It was absolutely awesome. – Susan

I’ve got tears on this call already. I’m only 20 minutes in! – Jennie (listening to the recording)

Wow! It was so jam packed full of goodness! I really need this in my life. I think we all do, because we can be so hard on ourselves. The nurturing factor was extremely good. That is a vibe you can’t mute!….The call was marvelous. I was aware of such a sense of love & affirmation w/everyone, as I’m sure you were. Love safe places! – Rachel

Thank u Tara! U r an amazing inspiration! – Tracy

Tara you are amazing for doing this! I got off call and took a nice long shower and thought about everything I heard. I can’t wait for the forum! – Rebecca

Great call tonight lady! I had A LOT more to say but didn’t want to bulldoze people who hadn’t talked yet so I can’t wait for the forum. Glad I listened to my intuition and jumped on the call. – Brianna

And here’s one mama’s powerful revelation after we connected and worked through some things together in the Tribe: Embracing the Disgusting

And then I did what I imagined myself doing…

After the call, I let loose my whoops and wahoos, I had my running jump into my husband’s arms, I gave my kiddo a giant hug and of course, I called my mama and my sister to share my elation.

Cuz I did it! What I wanted to do!

I took my message out of it’s box, danced off those silly fears and boundaries and leaned into what I know I’m here to do…my part of inspiring the world.

And it feels Uh!Maze!Ing! 

And then!

We celebrated with family rocking it on Sleeping Bear Dunes, feeling pretty “wahoo” about making it to the top of that bad boy and just being silly together.

Because life – and rocking it – is good like that.

Next amazing thing to put into the world: the Sisterhood forums and the next Tribe call!

Wahoooooo!

Have you pushed through any inner boundaries lately?

“Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing
and rightdoing there is a field.
I’ll meet you there.

When the soul lies down in that grass
the world is too full to talk about.”
— Rumi

Oh Rumi, how I love you.

Our life is full…full of motion and creativity and energy. It’s vibrant and joyful and exciting and fun.

And then sometimes it’s exhausting. And between the movement and the energy and the excitement I sometimes (and sometimes often) struggle to feel grounded.

Duh, right? We travel full-time; it seems obvious that “not feeling grounded” would be expected. But although I knew the challenges (it’s been 1 and a half years now!) I didn’t quite put it in those terms…I need a sense of grounding.

My soul needed a lie-down.

Aah, yes…just the quiet space in which to lie, to dream, to rest, to be.

We’re in Northern MI now and will be for several more weeks. As we explained here, we’re just ready to settle in, zone out, relax, catch up, lie down.

And it’s been perfect.

Walking barefoot through the sandy trails, picking wild blackberries in the woods, and laying my soul down in wide open fields on old tattered blankets under a warm sun and a cool breeze.

Yes, this is me, so grounded I felt attached to the soil beneath me and the sky above me.

Just me, my breath and my Source of healing and inspiration and guidance.

It’s in those quite, grounded spaces when the world is too full to talk about, that I know Life is good.

Which wouldn’t have been too big a deal had we not wanted to tow our 15,000lb 5th wheel and motorcycle trailer up a hilly country road lacking adequate gravel.

Try looking in your rearview mirror and seeing all that weight slowing skidding toward the ditch on the side of the road.

Note: You should not be driving straight
and see your rig off in another lane.

Terr. If. Fying.

Even more terrifying? Seeing the same look of Holy-shit-it-should-not-be-doing-that in your always confident husband’s eyes.

We slid, we skidded, we pelted giant clumps of mud all over ourselves in an effort to find traction.

My heart was racing, my stomach was clenched, and my voice was clear as I prayerfully reaffirmed – very loudly for all of the heavens to hear – that we are totally safe. Safe, I say, dammit!

By the time we made it into the campgrounds and my heart stopped racing, I was pissed.

“That’s not effing cool.”

“Someone should’ve warned us about that road.”

“They’re gonna hear it from me at the office.”

I wasn’t exactly freaking out (on the outside) but you could say I was ready to make a statement.

As we walked up to the office – me mentally practicing what I intended to let them know – a man got out of his car and walked up with us. He had driven behind us up that muddy hill and had watched us work to keep control of our rig.

Chuckling, he said, “You guys looked like you were making a Ford commercial! Built Ford Tough!”

And that’s all it took.

One moment of laughter to break through my tension. One reminder of just how thankful I am that our truck could make it up that slippery road.

I laughed. I breathed. I remembered.

I was taken out of my anger and my self-inflicted suffering to remember the bigger picture: That small moments only have the power I give them. That living in the past, in What Could’ve Happened, does nothing for The Now, what IS happening.

Thank goodness for the reminders of muddy roads.

I feel like I’ve been here before, this familiar but different place. It’s transition, known and unknown to us.

We’ve already said our goodbyes a year ago, but only for the year. It was difficult but exciting. And now we’re embarking for the last time and with no plans for return. And it’s not exactly difficult but the excitement is not quite the same.

There’s no fanfare, no newness to our departure this time. And yet this time it feels more like goodbye to us.

Just a few weeks ago I recorded my grandparent’s talking about their childhood, how they met and their life together. And then last night, as we joined them for dinner, I saw time fold upon itself as their past and the present showed itself to me as one carousel.

I saw Justin and I sitting across the table from our own grandchildren, looking back on our own life and all we created. I saw how quickly the seasons go round and thought thoughts that break my heart.

We’re tying up the loose ends now, packing our bicycles on the back of our new home, sending off for new birth certificates that will arrive after we are gone, receiving driving lessons from the people we love and spending our last moments with parents and grandparents.

Yes, we’ve been here before, but this is different.

I feel as though I’m moving round and round, up and down as I realize my dizzying lack of focus or productivity is really my own dragging feet and attempt at distraction, torn between the road ahead and the pain of saying goodbye again and possibly really meaning it this time.

This is life; changing, yet cyclical. Dizzying unless you take the time to really notice what passes by.