Clean.

Simplicity Success.

Well good morning to you! On Friday I told you there was purging and de-cluttering in store for my weekend. And oh, was there. I'm excited to share the transformation with you. Let's start with photos, shall we?

The before shots below are truly horrifying, but necessary to appreciate the beauty in the afters. (The afters are horrifying because it's been rainy and the lighting deep within my cabinets ain't the best. Bear with me and see the simplicity rather than the bad lighting.)

Here are a few transformations from my kitchen.

The baking pan cabinet. Before...

...and after.

Jars and mixing bowls. Before...

... and after. (The top shelf just holds a small collection of jars, thew rest of the bottom is our glass milk bottles.)

And my personal triumph, the tea cabinet. (This one I keep opening just to smile at the order hidden behind the doors.) Before...

...and after.

Nice? I think so. There is actual open space in there! Amazing what that does for my chi.

Truth be told, I barely got outside this weekend. The stomach flu made a surprise appearance for half of my family, so we punted and stayed home, with the exception of a neighborhood campfire on Friday and a dog walk on Sunday.

But for my epic fail on getting outside, I rocked the house de-cluttering like nobody's business. Yes indeed. We purged in oh so many ways this weekend. (But that's probably more information than you need.)

As I mentioned on Friday, I broke down the house and yard into "zones" last week and assigned a group of zones per week (starting today) for the next five weeks. My theory was five weeks, five sets of "zones" and the house would be done. Simplification round 1, complete.

By Saturday morning I had rocked out have of this week's list a few days early, and by Sunday night this week was done (my part anyway as Pete was in bed feeling like death) plus a decent chunk of what I thought I'd get to in two weeks. 

Unstoppable I tell you.

Granted it was easy since most of my family wasn't eating (no need to cook or wash dishes!) and they were asleep for vast portion of the weekend, but regardless of the circumstances it was crazy satisfying to crank it out.

The kitchen. The pantry. Both bathrooms. Two hall closets. A substantial bit of the basement. (my most dreaded purge of all.) The kids' books. All done. The basement is filling with boxes this time around as we're breaking our habit of giving it all away and are planning a rockin' tag sale.

There is still a lot to be done, but I feel like we can actually pull it off this time. Things are in motion. There's no stopping the momentum.

"Do I love it? Do I need it? Does it belong in my dream home?" These questions are ringing in my ears. I'm letting stuff go that I've moved with more than once. Like a dusty bottle of tequila. My rock climbing gear. Some lovely wooden toys. And yes, my yoga mat.

A friend and I had a conversation about letting go of things in the context of my weekend agenda and she made the inspired comment that we define ourselves with our things. We paint a picture of who we want to be rather than who we truly are by what we cling to. And while I don't want to be a tequila drinker (not at all) I do like the idea of yoga and wanted to keep my mat. It's a picture of me that I've clung to for five years, as I have clung to that mat.

But I don't do yoga. I haven't done yoga. I am letting go of the idea of Rachel as yogi.

I'm over that vison of myself.

I'm moving on.

I'm keeping my cross country skis and letting go of my snowboard. I'm ready to embrace who I really am. And that means purging the idea of who I-think-I-could-become in exchange for the real me.

There's a life lesson if I've ever had one.

Love,
Rachel

Two Missions. One Weekend.

(Photo of me asleep by the creek courtesy of Sage.)

The weekend is coming. Where will you spend it?

Personally, I am a woman with two missions. One inside, one out.

Mission One looks like a long list of what-simply-must-get-done-inside-of-my-house this weekend. Remember this? Yep. So do I. Or I am in the process of remembering it again anyway. I'm back on it with a mission. An end date even.

I've gotten pretty firm with myself and I broke down the house into areas that need work. (If you must know, every room and every closet are on the list. Yes, even the backyard.) I've assigned myself one to three spaces per week, no excuses. By June I'll be free of all this clutter! Eeek! That's my plan anyway.

Are you still simplifying or did you, too, fall off the simplicity wagon? Climb back on with me! I'm so ready for the space (physical and emotional) that comes with letting go.

Oh, but there is still Mission Two. You see, it's also spring. The ramps and nettles are up. Through my windows I can hear the birds calling. And I really want to be outside. Constantly.

The weekend around here is supposed to be cold and rainy. (Some might even say "miserable" for late April.) But despite the work going on in my closets - and despite the questionable weather - I'm planning to get out in it just the same. A little foraging, a little hiking, a little gardening, a little something - one way or another. Heck, just having tea on the porch isn't a bad way to spend the morning, even if I do have to wear my mittens.

What about you? Will you join me? Which mission will you take on this weekend?

Unschooling. At LuSa Organics.

Once a week I load my kids into the car and the whole family heads in to our LuSa Organics business space. It's my one day a week to work on site - developing new products, blending new scents, and making product prototypes for private label customers.

Yesterday I reflected on how this day works for my kids. Are they just spending the day waiting for me to finish my work, or are they learning? And in that moment in the other room I overheard Pete teaching Sage long division. Pete took a quick break from bookkeeping to explain the math to Sage, who had been carefully measuring and drawing something to scale all morning.

Meanwhile Lupine was singing and dancing (as usual), cutting some treasures out of paper, working on a puzzle, drawing, and helping me quality check the soaps. As always there were lots of questions about the map of the world that hangs on the wall. 

And then I remembered what I have known for so long. That wherever we go they learn. They learn at home, in the woods, in the city, and yes, even at LuSa. There was math and art and fine motor work. There was geography and chemistry. There was physical education and natural history. It's all happening. Everyday. No matter where we are. And I love that for so many reasons.

~ * ~ * ~

P.S. Some of you have emailed looking for a LuSa Organics coupon code. You can find one here for Mother's Day. Enjoy!

Love,
Rachel

Grandpa's Flowers.

I've spoken before to the power of crafting, but what about the power of gardening? Even flower gardening - which can not feed the body but instead feeds the soul - leaves a legacy.

This birthday bouquet is brought to you (well, me) courtesy of my grandfather and the daughter I named after one of his favorite flowers. Grandpa Les has been gone since Sage was a baby, but his daffodils (curiously planted in rows, the flower bed now overtaken by blackberry canes) shine on. Dozens and dozens of them.

Technically these flowers were stolen. They grow in the gardens next door to our cabin. Once my grandparents house, now an empty "summer cabin" for a family from the city. The garden was full of spent daffodils that no one enjoyed, so we took the initiative to steal a boquet from the masses for ourselves.

I know. I am setting a terrible example for my daughter. Truth be told, Lupine is named after the flowers that my grandfather would steal (with me in tow) from public land alongside the river. (Clearly I come from a long line of garden hooligans.) I'm sure he would have called it transplanting, but let's be honest. It was stealing.

And somehow remembering him in his brown work boots, blue work shirt and pants, and cap, his gnarled hands planting these bulbs in those odd little rows made me want to have a little bit of his spirit at my birthday. And I'd say we did. Even if I did steal to do it.

(Yes, I miss him so.)

Reflections: You, me, judgement and acceptance.

Good morning, friends. Here I am.

I hope your week was good. I've enjoyed a few quiet days in my world. I indulged in an epic bike ride with my kids, a long hike and day of nettle-picking with my family, and lots and lots of quiet time to think. There has also been a ridiculous amount of sleep (which might just be my best medicine) and plenty of good and meaningful conversation.

And all through the week your comments poured in. (Along with your cards, letters, and emails.) I'm here this morning to say thank you. Your voice came through clear and true. I see your hearts and I hear your voices. And I feel such gratitude that you added your thoughts to the conversation. Thank you for your appreciation, sensitivity, and clarity. Thank you for seeing my intention.

As I read your words I stood here in amazement at what you shared. So many of you speaking here for the first time, and others saying things I never could have imagined. I had no idea how you have been touched by this space. I really didn't. Thank you for finding the words. It changed everything.

You see, I come here to inspire - and yes, challenge - you with new ideas. I don't come here to convert you and convince you to follow my one-right-and-true-path. I just come here to say "this works for me". Simply knowing that that my words or my worldview stirs up pain or anger for a few readers is difficult for me and made me wonder if it was worth doing at all. If my words cause one person pain I would rather have not spoken them. But hearing so many of you state clearly and passionately what those same words mean for your lives and your children meant that it is indeed worth it. More so than even I imagined.

Many of you spoke of the courage it must take to speak my truth here. And it's funny, but I am a little oblivious about the stir that my truth is capable of causing. I choose my words carefully and assume that you will read them at face value, as my truth - not necessarily yours. (On rare occasion I summon my courage to write, but it is truly rare.) Mostly I'm just talking about what I believe and how my family lives. Take it or leave it, be inspired or not. No baggage, no expectations.

I guess it's because I have never seen the world as a one-right-path-for-everyone kind of place. While I do believe in the universal power of love, respect, and kindness, we are all so different that what works for me might not work for you. It's so obvious to me - we're different people. We'll make different choices. In truth, it never occurred to me that my words would be read as talking down to someone walking a different path than I. And that speaks to my naivety. Maybe that's because for my entire life I've been surrounded by people with different values making different choices than me. And I've almost never felt like they think I've got it all wrong (that belief would unravel me), nor did I see it the other way around. I guess I've been different for so long that it feels normal.

Many of you have said that this is the only place that you've been exposed to some of these ideas, so therein lies the purpose of sharing what I do. New ideas are good for us, don't you think? They help us better understand what feels right in our own hearts. They help us filter and select and refine our vision. Because each of us is writing our own story. And we choose what direction it goes.

But we have become a painfully polarized society. I think we've become accustom to the idea that everyone must believe they have The One Right Answer - be it spiritual, political, dietary, educational, or parental. And with that comes the assumption that if I've chosen to do it a different way then I must be looking down on you for doing it your way.

But guess what... I'm not.

At all.

The truth is that I question everything. And that is why my life looks the way it does. (I talked to a friend about it recently in regards to this conversation on the blog. I said, "Tell me one thing I do that is normal. One mainstream choice. Anything. Name one." Nothing. I repeated the question to Pete and he just snorted. Because I am a relentless questioner. I always have been.) So every single decision that I make will likely go against the grain for 90% of the people who find their way to my blog.

And if you have faced judgement before when others have made a different choice then you, or if you are not confident in some of your own beliefs or choices, then I'm bound to stir up your stuff. And when a person (me for example) openly goes their own way, there can be an implied criticism that how everyone else is doing it isn't good enough. If I co-sleep, I must look down on you for your crib. If I homeschool, I must disapprove of your child attending school. If I don't shop at Walmart, I must shake my head at your choice to do so. I could go on and on. Spirituality, politics, consumer choices, food, medical and dental care...

Yes, I'm going out of my way to do things differently. But not because I believe I've found the Universal Answer to All that Ails Us. It just means I found what works for me. I trust others are doing the same.

Because questioning is quite simply what makes me tick. It's what makes me "me". It gives me joy to be conscious and mindful in every decision, right down to my toothpaste. And I understand that some of you do not share that gene or have the time, interest, or energy to question everything. As one friend put it, "At this point in my life I can't ask questions about [XYZ]. I use to, and maybe some day I will again, but right now I have too much on my plate to care."

And I suspect some of you feel the same. Which is a-okay with me. Because, again, we're all different.

And now here's another crucial piece of this conversation. My choices are made (are you ready?) by judging what resonates for me and my family. (It's that word we've all been dancing around - judgement!)

Yes. I judge.

While simply going with the flow (doing what has long been done in your culture or your family) can happen without judgement, consciously choosing your own right path can not. Anyone mindfully choosing A over B must exercising judgement to do so. "Which one feels right for me?" That is the act of judging. And I do it every day. Judge, judge, judge.

But all judgement is not equal. (Or more complexly: here is my judgement of judgement.) There is the "I see only one right answer for us all" sort of judgement and the "This is the right answer for me" sort of judgement. Know that I am doing only the latter.

And if my choices make you uncomfortable your inner voice saying is probably saying one of two things: either "Question what you believe," or "Walk away from this place." ("Get Out Here" as the sign above says, fifty feet from the churning rapids that are sure to eat both you and your canoe alive.)

Those are the only two answers I can come up with. If I'm shaking a bit the foundation of what you have come to believe, only you can decide if it serves you and if you want to stay in this space a bit longer to see what transforms. And if you've found your right path and yet you keep coming back here feeling irritated or inadequate or angry by the picture I am painting, it isn't serving you. Get out here.

Coming here and seeing all of my choices out on display, flapping confidently like prayer flags in the wind will inspire some of you and be overwhelming for others. And that's why this is an opt-in space. As you decide whether to stay or go, know that my making different choices do not mean that I am looking down on yours. If you feel a judgment when you read my words it might just be coming from within or from someone else in your world who is questioning the validity of your choices. I get to call the shots for me. And you get to call the shots for you. I respect our differences.

In truth, my choices are serving me. I'm happy ninety-plus percent of the time. Really, truly happy. (Okay, I am just the tiniest bit sensitive to criticism (ahem), but I'm working on what that's about too.) Yelling, arguing, struggling, and resistance are rare in my life. We've worked our way to this place by finding the choices that resonate for us. I encourage you to do the same. Find what makes you tick. Find your own happy place. Pete and I made sacrifices and took big risks to get to where we are. I don't regret a single step, nor do I apologize for our joy. I've bucked the norm and love where I landed. It's working for me. If my words can encourage you along your own version of this path, then hooray! It might parallel mine in some ways, and it might run in a completely different direction. But it only has to be a good fit for you.

If you choose to stick around and read what I have to share (and I do have so much more to share), then accept my words at face value. Filter out what serves you and discard the rest. And please bring your voice to the conversation. Your open, honest - and yes respectful - voice. (I will strive to hold a voice that is all three as well.) Talking freely and peacefully about our differences might be one the the most healing things we could do here.

I'm not ready to walk away from this place. I don't yet know what direction this blog will go, but I'll keep talking (and listening). Will you do the same?

Love,

Rachel

Your Kindness.

Hello kind friends. I needed to come here for a moment to say that you amaze me. I am again brought to my knees, but this time by your true outpouring of love, gratitude, and understanding.

Thank you for your words.

For your acceptance.

For your empathy and your love.

Thank you for truly seeing me.

And thank you for taking a moment to tell me what this space and these words mean to you. I truly had no idea how deeply you have been touched.

So yes, I'm going ot take a deep breath (as many of you suggested) and perhaps have a birthday do-over (as many of you have also suggested). I need to sit a while with where to go from here, but know that I will be back. And soon.

I do need some time to heal and rest and connect with why I come here, but I needed to tell you that I have read - and felt in my soul - every comment, every message, every emotion-filled email. (Yes, most with tears streaming down my cheeks.) Oh, my. Those were powerful words. And for that I thank you.

I don't know where I will go from here, but the critical mass of your voices is sending me a clear message that what I have offered to you here is of value. I'm honored. And I appreciate you finding your collective voice to tell me all that you have.

So much love, gratitude, and - yes - peace,

Rachel