I would ask them the customary questions: How old are you? What grade are you in? What’s your favorite subject? What do you want to be when you grow up?

(Kinda similar to how I use to talk to adults actually: What do you do? How’s the weather? Time flies huh?)

You know, the kind of questions that you don’t really listen for the answers.

But then I started meeting children who liked to make up their their own age (or name), who didn’t go to school, and who demanded (not with words but with their very presence and the way they experienced life) a whole new kind of interaction.

And it was awkward at first.

I didn’t know what to say or how to say it. It was uncomfortable to be alone with a child I wasn’t related to because there was an expectation of interaction that I didn’t know how to handle (compared to the idea that we don’t have to interact quite as much with children we do know – ack!).

I was realizing today how different that is for me now.

I woke up this morning and immediately upon noticing there was actual SUNSHINE I grabbed my yoga mat and headed out the RV door. I intended to salute the sun all proper like.

We’re camped with our caravan and sitting outside next door was my new friend, whom I call Little Turtle, for we both are learning a lot about our own personal turtle shells. As we greeted I did what I would do with any friend…

I invited her to do yoga by the pond with me.

She grabbed her mat, her brother even came along for a few minutes before he decided he had better things to do, and the two of us saluted the sun together.

Then we laid by the water and just spent time together.

In my past I would’ve felt compelled to ask questions or mentor her in some way (oh the ego!). I would’ve had a different tone in my voice and a direction I felt we should take it (educational no doubt).

But our time together was casual and comfortable instead.

We talked about the water and our favorite colors, and Googled on my phone what different colors mean (she’s all about the happy, creative colors!). We wondered about the weird animal sounds we heard and talked about brothers.

The generations between us didn’t matter. We were just able to BE together, as friends.

And this makes me really happy. I have friends of so many ages and backgrounds and beliefs. And for years I missed out on what these young and wonderful friends bring to my world.

Like the enjoyment of sitting and watching the bugs skimming the surface of the water.

Last night Justin and one of the kids went off to a juggling meetup. An hour driving together, several hours juggling with other adults, and an hour back. As friends. Right now he has a 10 year old friend helping him work on the engine as they talk more about juggling. As friends.

It just makes me smile.

And being authentic has also become easier. Zeb and his new friend (and Little Turtle’s brother) were playing in the RV and I needed to get some work done. They were having fun and talking and I was struggling with overwhelm and feeling distracted.

So I reached out in kindness. “Hey guys, would it be okay if I had the RV to myself for awhile? I’ve got so much work to do.”

“Sure Mom.” “Sure Tara.” And they finished up their game, asked when I thought I’d be done and headed outside with a smile.

In the past I would’ve resorted to demanding they go outside, or just internally huffing and puffing over how I never get what I need until I became resentful. I never would’ve thought I could’ve spoken to them about it in the same way I would speak to my husband. It would’ve been control or martyrdom for me.

I’ve missed out on a lot of time with these incredible friends, especially the incredible friend I have in my 12 year old son. There were lots of things I had to DIG IN to in order to release my own discomfort and fear and superiority: like the emotions or reactions that would come up for me, the old stories about permissiveness, and the kind of connections I really wanted in my life and what had me settling for less.

But most importantly the idea I had learned that only people of the same ages could have real and meaningful friendships together and that adults were meant to lead children, not simply enjoy their presence.

I’ve also struggled with hypoglycemia and woke up yesterday with too low blood sugar, almost passing out and taking several hours to recover. Not good.

So I’m adding in salmon on intuition and am feeling better now. (Justin is going to continue going without for awhile longer.)

We have had so many questions on the elimination diet and how to do it and I think it can pretty much all be boiled down to this:

Listen to your body. Trust it.

Every body is different, and each individual’s needs will vary throughout their life too.

Food dogma is bullshit. Intuition is king.

We chose this elimination diet on intuition. We choose to follow it how our intuition guides us.

And the more we do that, the better we feel.

Heart = Full

Happy Full Moon

Even though we’ve been learning how to fill our bellies, my heart right now is expanding like WHOA.

The past few months have been rough for us, and we’ve been consistently pulled back to look for the cause and the shifting Life is asking us to make.

Zeb has been really struggling.

Really struggling.

He’s 12.5 now and becoming a man, not as smoothly as we had hoped (ah, those parental ideas – that’s a whole story in itself).

It hasn’t been fun to say the least.

It’s been hard.

And Justin and I have been triggered a lot.

And individually and together we’ve had some really bad moments that suck suck suck.

But thankfully we leaned into our tribes and our tools and we kept coming back, kept making amends for the mistakes, kept putting our intentions and our heart into finding what’s missing for all of us, what each of us needs to thrive.

We kept coming back to the drawing board again and again.

Until we finally had the Aha moment. The breakthrough.

In a few heart-wrenching, emotional and deeply connecting conversations Zeb articulated what was happening beneath the surface for him.

Beneath the anger and the frustration and the blah and the rut.

He’s lonely.

He enjoys traveling, but it’s not filling his cup with a Tribe of his own.

He wants more than Mom and Dad.

Going back to Vegas was a wonderful thing for him. But it was only temporary.

And he struggles to connect with people as we travel. He can feel awkward and uncomfortable until he warms up – like we all experience at some point. And so as we go along he feels withdrawn more than he’d like to without that extra time to settle into a comfortable place with people. By the time he’s forming a connection, either we or the other family is heading off.

Can I tell you what a GIANT sigh of relief it is to finally hear this from him?

For a long time he couldn’t put his finger on it. Even when we would check in with him about it, he wasn’t fully aware of it.

It can be hard as a kid (heck, for most adults too) to see with clarity what is really happening inside.

He needs community.

And we have been feeling that same need ourselves.

Zeb needs guys to hang with, to run with, to laugh with, to grow with.

Justin needs men to connect with, to sit with, to feel like himself with.

I need women to hug with, to walk with, to celebrate with, to dance with.

We also want to continue to travel!

So we talked and drew out our ideas.

We discussed traveling one more year to see the East coast, then settling down so Zeb could try out a Sudbury School.

But one year felt like a long time to wait.

Then a beautiful traveling family, Angela and Clint and their 3 kids, invited us to their budding caravan, but they were headed to the West coast and had plenty of big plans and it just didn’t seem like the pieces would fit.

The idea of not joining them had me bummed.

I resonated so strongly with the families that were already gathering around the idea. I loved the moments I had been able to grab here and there with them – at the first Full Moon feast in January, at a FOTR rally, even through email when we could.

But I’ve learned enough in my 30 years to not try to force anything. That it never works best that way. That things either happen organically or they don’t happen all that well.

So I stressed a little. And let go a little. And leaned into Trust a little.

And tried to remind myself that when we plant the seeds of our intentions, Life/Spirit/magic happens.

And it did.

Around the Fire

Angela and Clint invited us again to another full moon feast – a monthly gathering of traveling and non-traveling families and friends to eat, talk, connect, make music and make even more laughter.

We couldn’t camp with them, but we drove 45 minutes to visit for the evening.

Zeb ran off with the kids.

Justin drummed with the men.

I connected with the women.

Fire dancing mamas!

We felt at home.

And my heart ached a little to know it would only last an evening this time.

And then I heard the most beautiful thing I could imagine.

And it’s bringing tears to my eyes to write it out.

Angela explained how their plans had shifted. How they aren’t heading to the West coast. How they are traveling up the East coast this year. Exactly to the place we wanted to most see.

Inside my heart jumped a little.

Said a tiny Eep!

Goosebumps. And tears. And hugs. And laughing. And “See?”

She and I knowing and seeing (again) that Trust always leads us in the most beautiful direction.

That everyone’s needs – for connection, for adventure, for timing – will always be met.

That this was the beginning of a beautiful thing.

Zeb is on board. Wholeheartedly. Can’t wait.

Justin’s feeling it out, has some hesitation to examine, some things to sit with internally. But I can trust fully the right pieces will fall into the right place and at the right time now.

And my heart is filled to the brim with the idea of having our own tiny, traveling village of mindful parents, and passionate women, and strong, gentle men and confident children, and entrepreneurs, and autodidacts, and diversity, and laughter.

We have details to work out, and schedules to coordinate, and plans to create.

After all, this isn’t JUST a caravan they’re planning – it’s bigger than that. And I can’t wait to share it.

But right now I’m just happy to share my heart and my soul and my answered prayers and the smile and excitement of my previously sullen 12 year old whose cup is finally being filled.

And to share this little reminder: Lean into Trust. Life is good.

The Comment/Question

Tara – Here’s a thought I’ve had. I’ve been in a lot of discussions about parenting that include those who view “being your child’s friend” as a very negative thing – “be a parent, not a friend”. I really feel like there’s this false dichotomy between having a good relationship or teaching/guiding them – like they are mutually exclusive. The “be a parent” crowd assumes that if we are focusing on maintaining a close, connected relationship, it means that the kids just do whatever they want and have no respect. What if being a friend and parent weren’t mutally exclusive? I would love your take on this. – Cindy from www.birth-smart.com

My Answer

I would ask them who the heck their friends are and why they have such a low idea of what real friendship is.

In my world, a friend is someone who loves me compassionately, who sees my worth when I may not see it, who listens deeply and never encourages me to do less than I’m capable of doing, nor do they support my actions if those actions are hurting me or others.

A real friend brings out the best in me with love and laughter and support.

So who the heck have they been hanging out with that isn’t all those things? And why wouldn’t we want to be those things to our child?

And I want to add:

Maybe if more kids were used to seeing this kind of love and support from their parents they wouldn’t be accepting anything less in their friends.

What is your take on the parent/friend conversation?

And just because I can, I want to share a video I created that reminds me just how quickly it passes, just how much we should cherish the tender moments and just how much we miss out on when we’re more concerned with how we’ll look as parents, instead of the moments of connection we’re capturing with our kids.

There’s an epidemic that has infiltrated our culture. It creeps in to families and relationships and make us all sick. Sick of each other, really.

It’s the If/Then Syndrome, sometimes referred to as the When/Then Syndrome. And it gets us all at some point. It’s that tit for tat behavior that we all loathe, and yet it’s just as much a part of us as we feel it is of anyone else. Some examples of its symptoms:

• If she’s going to be rude to her kids, then I’m going to tell her off.
• If he’s gonna yell at me, then I’m gonna yell back.
• When you act nice to me, then I’ll act kind in return.
• When you help me with the chores, then I’ll pay you.
• But if you don’t help me, then I’ll be moody and passive-aggressive.
• When he apologizes, then I’ll stop giving him the cold shoulder.
• If she cheats on me, then I’ll cheat on her.

Truly, it’s all equal and it’s all pretty immature thinking. But the most mature among us fall victim to it. We apply it to our parenting, our partners, and our friendships.

It’s not entirely our fault. It’s the culture we live in, one based on rewards and punishments. We feel that every action must be met with an equal (or greater) reaction. We give kids grades based on their performance, allowance based on their contributions, attention based on their behavior. We give our spouses snide comments or biting retorts. We give others parents pointed looks, or offer hurtful, harsh remarks. And we say (and truly feel) that things won’t change unless we do these things.

We’re a culture of human reactors.

I’ve just realized I do it all the time. If Justin isn’t helping out, I am moody or unhelpful in return. If Zeb is cranky, I act cranky right back. It’s stupid, really because here’s the thing:

I need to be Who I Am, not because of anyone else, but because it’s who I want to be.

I want to be the kind, patient, compassionate mother, not to get a particular behavior from my son, but because I want to be that mother.

I want to be the generous, loving wife, not to get something from my husband, but because that’s the lover I want to be.

And what does it say about ourselves otherwise?

We expect kids and adults to “take responsibility” for their own actions and we don’t allow them to use others as a scapegoat for their own behavior. Then we yell, punish, criticize, humiliate, embarrass, lose our tempers or our patience and we say it’s because of something they did. We say it’s because we have to make a difference, because they need to change, because of some outcome if we don’t.

Bullshit.

It’s not because of what they do; it’s because of something we do. We base our actions off our expectations, instead of our intent. We sacrificed who we want to be because they aren’t being who we think they should be. And when we didn’t get what we wanted (and how often does coercion really result in real cooperation anyway?) we responded with something akin to a temper tantrum.

How can we possibly expect our children to do something we ourselves can’t master?

This is what unconditional love is about: That we continue to love a person in the same exact way regardless of whether they are being kind or mean, helpful or disruptive, quiet or loud, thoughtful or inconsiderate, joyful or short-tempered, patient or rude.

Anything less is not unconditional love. It’s fair-weather friendship, it’s the parent who isn’t there when their child is hurting, the partner who leaves you feeling alone. And if love is not unconditional, we’d better not call is love at all.

Over the past few weeks, with engine problems and stress pouring out of our ears, I’ve been told by nearly everyone that it all happens for a reason; it all works out for the greater good, that we are exactly where we need to be. It’s so easy to apply that principle to things like dead batteries or a long pause in your plans. But why don’t we apply the same principle to our relationships?

If we truly believe we are exactly where we need to be in tough times, that there are no accidents, and that it all happens for a reason, how can we try to change someone at all? Every mood, every attitude, every hurtful or kind word, every helpful or hindering action from our children, spouses, friends or loved ones is exactly where and what it needs to be.

It’s all good, even the messy, the hurtful, the disruptive. It’s all opportunity, experience, chances for understanding, an occasion for contrast, a space in which to learn. Not just for them, maybe not for them at all. Maybe it’s just there for us.

There is always a bigger picture to view. We get all caught up in the details of the moment, the stories we tell ourselves, without ever remembering one of the most important reasons for the moment, for life at all: Growth.

And only by meeting people where they are and accepting them for who they are in that very moment while remaining who we want to be, do we give anyone the opportunity to grow. Only by being the person we want to be can we allow others to be who they are, as well. Only by accepting ourselves as imperfect first, can others accept their own imperfections.

Only through unconditional love and compassion can anything be okay.

Thankfully, this shuffling takes us about 30 minutes. In that time we (and by we I usually mean I) put away toys, books, computers or other things, sort clothes that need to be washed at our next location, and rehang or refold the rest. Then we (I) grab a rag and the spray bottle and wash down the fingerprints that have graced our walls, clean up the sinks, wipe down the shower and clean the toilet. Then I sweep and hand-mop the floor with a second rag. Justin then takes that second rag and the spray bottle to wash the bugs off the windows. We may or may not throw the fridge somewhere in there for good measure.

We don’t always do it at the state line, but Justin is threatening to drive us across the border every week anyway.

My view from Louisiana

We’re now in Louisiana, in a little town called Keatchie (pronounced key-chie), about an hour south of Shreveport. So small in fact, they don’t even have their own grocery store!

It’s beautiful and quiet and the serenity feels so good. But it’s lonely not feeling connected to a tribe. I’m making the most of what it is but I’m looking forward to driving into New Orleans and Baton Rouge and meeting new people and finding friends.

In the meantime we’re hooping, playing games, watching movies, playing online and relaxing. Zeb is hoping to do some fishing in the neighbor’s pond soon and Justin is excited to have found a boatload of free veg oil for the RV. Next weekend we’ll be celebrating with the locals at the annual crawfish festival.

But for now we’re just trying to stay connected to each other as Justin attempts to go back to work and we attempt to find a tribe.

So, tell me tribe, how’s your weekend going?

Kristin and I were best friends from elementary school through her graduation. Even after her family moved away in middle school, I would fly to Texas, then Florida, to visit her over the summer. I have so many fun memories of our times together: walking down Harmon Hill after school, prank calling the radio station (we really wanted to hear that song!), talking about boys and laughing over nothing funny.

Things weren’t always beautiful between us, though. I often felt a lot of (probably imagined) judgment from her family. They were very conservative and traditional and…well, we never have been. I even vaguely remember being referred to as a “bad influence” on my dear beloved friend. When I became a teenage mother that feeling became very acute.

The last time we saw each other was almost exactly 10 years ago, the June before Zeb’s first birthday. I had flown to Florida to attend her graduation, as we had promised to do at the age of 13. I was in a strange place in my life, struggling with depression and a real disconnection from Self. I was in a relationship I had yet to realize was doomed and on the precipice of major life changes I couldn’t have anticipated. It was a tumultuous time of change for me to say the least and I was desperate to feel that familiar sense of belonging within our friendship.

Instead I felt slightly outcast being put up with a stranger, and out of sync as I tried unsuccessfully to meld into her circle of friends and family. Our relationship was obviously strained. We had grown into two very different people from two very different walks of life and we struggled to bridge that gap. I flew away from that trip brokenhearted over losing a friend and floundering without that connection.

I know now that change is inevitable, that people grow – sometimes together and sometimes apart – and that all of this is okay. I also understand that my emotions and perceptions shaped my reality in ways that weren’t always true. And when we found each other again online (the internet is a beautiful thing) many of our questions were answered and our feelings understood.

But none of this stopped me from feeling a bit nervous for seeing this dear old friend of mine this weekend, meeting her husband and her son and bridging something long ago lost.

I listened to her talk and recalled with love her voice, her tone, and the strong, fearless nature of the soul I knew and still saw within her. I watched her as she interacted with her child and marveled how two little girls like us could become mothers ourselves. I saw her as she smiled at her sweet Southern man and rejoiced that her life was filled with love.

I’ve often missed the friendship she and I shared and have yet to find that in another. And as I looked upon our vastly different personalities, upbringings and beliefs, I can’t help but wonder if I too often seek out similarities. Were we friends because of or despite our differences or was it simply because of our classroom placement?

I don’t know. Nor do I know if this weekend or any weekends to come will rebuild that bond we once shared.

What I do know is that I have been forever blessed to have shared such a deep and meaningful friendship with such a beautiful, resilient and authentic soul as she. And regardless of where we are or where we’re heading, I’m blessed to still call her my friend.

Meet the folks:

This is Chris. He’s the man around here and passionate about sustainability and Real Foods. He’s kind and extremely generous, as well as patient as he answers our endless questions and teaches us whatever we request. He’s also a *phenomenal* guitar player. Seriously. He’s been fun to work with and learn from and even more fun to chat with or just hang around.

This is Erin and Yuli, both WWOOFers on the farm.

Erin is visiting from Minnesota. She’s quiet, except on nights like tonight when we’re all cooking homemade pizza and making homemade ice cream and she starts joking around. Then her funny and goofy side shine through, complimenting her kind and helpful nature nicely.

Yuli is from Peru and just left the farm. She only speaks a little English, although she understands quiet a bit. She’s so tender and loving with the animals, not to mention goodhearted and kind. She was also very patient as she taught me a little Spanish. She was so charming and beautiful that simply being around her has convinced me to learn Spanish, instead of Italian.

This is Eliza and her big brother, Scotty. They are Chris’ unschooling kids and Zeb’s newest friends. Eliza is a few years younger than Zeb but they have a lot of common gaming interests, which has made them fast friends. Scotty is only a little younger than Zeb and loves anything with gears. It’s so cool watching the different interests diverge. Or to watch them all playing a game one moment and running out to play with the goats the next.

And because I just can’t contain myself, this is the mama cow, Rena, and her new calf, Stickers (named after the sticker bush her mama birthed her into). Zeb is still a bit amazed to have watched this spectacular event. So are we.

There are, of course, dozens of other animals on the farm: goats and kids, sheep and lambs, other cows and a calf, insanely annoying geese, ducks who tag along behind the geese like social outcasts trying to keep up, dozens of chickens and roosters, mean turkeys, rabbits, fish, pigs…

It’s a regular madhouse around here!

Saying goodbye to the Life Learners just plain sucked. We’ve been with our local unschooling group for three years and although it’s members have come and gone, it’s still our place of refuge. Our entire week revolves around Wednesday when we pack our things and spend half our day at the park. What may look like play or relaxation is really so much more. It’s our community.

Multi-age, dual-gender, parents invited Life Learner sleepover.

For Zeb, it’s a menagerie of friends from toddling babes to teenagers. It’s a safe place to be goofy, express a new interest or play with a 4 year old without fear of judgment. It’s his opportunity to try on new “hats” within the embrace of people who will still accept him after a bad day or bad choice. Over the years the Life Learners have given him the liberty to deschool on his own terms, to dye his hair blue, to shun the group and come back again. They’ve introduced him to multi-aged dynamics and authentic interactions with both genders, as well as new favorite games and interests. My heart warms when I see that he’s touched their lives as much as they’ve touched his.

Big hugs for smaller friends.

For me, the Life Learners have been my world. I remember my own trepidation in joining, still feeling unsure about my place in it all. We arrived at the park and were welcomed with open arms. I sat quietly taking it all in: the happy kids opening their tribe to Zeb, the tender interactions between child and adult, and possibly most importantly, the community the parents had made with each other. I had never seen anything like it and it was such an inspiration. Fast forward three years, and even as the group moderator, I still rely on them for my weekly dose of recharge. Being around parents all striving for what we strive for ourselves – a better way to do things, a respectful relationship built on trust, a fun and joyful life experience – it changes your life. I can’t imagine parenting without such a community anymore.

It’s always a beautiful day with friends.

Validation, love, laughter, good conversation…and especially acceptance. The feeling of complete and loving acceptance. It’s unlike anything else. Only by being accepted for Who You Are in this exact moment can you be inspired to want to grow or learn. The Life Learners gave us that. A safe place to Be as we Become.

Just some of the Life Learners we are blessed to call friends.

As we were leaving our last park day today I insisted I wasn’t going to cry. But just as I turned my back I changed my mind. It’s hard to let go of such a safe place and such beautiful people. Zeb and I drove home hand-in-hand with breaking hearts as we talked about our favorite Life Learner memories, each one of our beloved friends and how great it would be if they would just travel with us.

Another big round of goodbyes yesterday. My mom threw us a Bon Voyage party and it was wonderful to spend the day with family and friends (especially when the Life Learners hang out late, as we always do).

There were so many hiccups in the plans, it began to feel as if it simply weren’t going to happen. But I managed to only need one deep breath before I could let go of the expectations of perfection. Family in the hospital, sick babies and plenty of rain. But it was all so great to eat (the coolest cake ever!) and chat and take photos with the people we love.

Photo Credit: Sara Janssen

My parents gifted Justin with a GPS! He is super excited and has loved directing me to every location we already know. It’s going to be very helpful in finding nearby Chinese restaurants when we need a fill-up!

They also gave us a travel journal. Everyone signed their well wishes and we intend to take it with us to collect the words of everyone we meet.

We still have odds and ends to finish up in the next few days and a giant Life Learners sleepover to plan for Tuesday. This certainly wasn’t the last of our goodbyes since we’re definitely not leaving on Monday. It looks like Wednesday or Thursday now.

Our first stop will be Tracey’s home in Phoenix to visit and play. Then Albuquerque…a very cool unschooling family is allowing us to intern on their organic farm! Fun!!

Friday was a grand, grand day. That’s because it marked the 11th hour completion of Benny’s straight veggie oil conversion! Our greened-out RV now runs on waste vegetable oil, available for free from neighborhood restaurants and we couldn’t be more ecstatic.

Justin has been working with Matt Janssen on the conversion, learning tons and having a blast. It took much longer than any of us anticipated but it was well worth the wait. Not only should we be able to acquire the grease for free, but it feels good burning something that could otherwise go to waste, as well as something that creates less carbon than regular diesel. (I’ll save the knitty-gritty details of the conversion for Justin to blog as soon as he’s caught up on sleep and decompressed from the craziness a bit.)

It’s amazing how Joy can pour out of you – after hearing the news that the RV was running, and as I’m driving down the freeway with a giant grin on my face, I realized what this conversion symbolized for me.

Freedom! NOW it feels real!

And as soon as I realized This Is It I found myself with tears streaming down my face as I laughed and laughed and laughed. This is what Joy feels like; this is Freedom at it’s best! Who knew it would smell like Kung Pow Chicken?!

We’ve thoroughly enjoyed hanging out with Sara and Matt and their girls throughout the month. They joined us for our unschooling park days, brought us dinner while we packed and even stayed around for our farewell party today. Sara even video toured the RV! Matt and Justin and Sara and I are so much alike in so many ways; it made for some amazing connections that we can only hope to develop more in the future. We had a blast and can’t wait to see them again on the road (if everything works according to plan, Sara and I may be planning something very cool, very soon).

There’s some other really, super cool news to go along with all this grease, but I’ll have to save that for Justin to share as well.