#makethepathbywalking

[daphneeck]

Nature Walk

Get walking here,

Get grounded here,

Go out from here.

Go back to the ones who hustle,

To the noise,

On your own terms.

Bring your silence to it,

Your wisdom,

Your peace.

Be a blessing,

Give what they long for,

What they need,

Flowing from the gift you received--

The gift you gave yourself

The beauty you long for,

the simplicity you need.

[daphneeck]

Hot Tempered

Hooo boy! I was about to split with you, dude. That thing you said, sent me storming out the house, keys jangling, door slamming. It wasn't even a fight, just a snide comment you made to me, then kinda backed out of (but not quite). But I was already over you. I'd moved out and moved on. I'd separated our bank accounts.

Walking to the park, I thought of all the burns I'd kill ya with, how to poetically tell you that you're the worst. Trying on the big gestures that would prove my point. I almost stopped at the corner store and bought three cases of beer to drop on you with a finely tuned dig!

I kept walking.

I texted you something snarky, deleted the words before they were sent.

Then I walked some more.

Texted you something more benign, with just a subtle edge.

I was still glaring dark, people avoided eye contact with me, they didn't cross my huffing pace.

I was walking hard.

The older homeless guys who congratate in the park, the ones who point out if I have a nice ass or look tasty or not, even they didn't dare make a comment to me today.

I kept walking, round and round the park.

My body calmed after a while. I called my sister but she didn't answer. I called my mom. Dad was there, too. We chatted about family and Thanksgiving and little funny things. I laughed a bit. My temper started cooling off.

We even talked about you, laughing affectionately about your lack of Christmas spirit, and about the uncanny way you and I bought the same exact gift for each other this week. My cousin asked my mom at Thanksgiving yesterday, "Do they always think so much the same?" Mom said, "Yeah, usually!" I laughed, "Only about overpriced soap. Not about anything else!" My Dad snickered at that. He likes jokes about paying too much for things.

I didn't mention what an ass you are, what you'd said, how mad I was. By now, I was starting to forget how awful you are.

I walked home, talking to Mom. Dad had fallen off the talk by now. I walked up the stairs, poured a drink for me, and one for you, too. Took it up to you. Walked back down and had my own, all the while talking to Mom. I finished my drink, went back upstairs. Said, "Are we friends?" You said, "Yes, come here."

I laid down with you, you held me close. Your left arm was warm and strong around me, your right hand holding your phone. We looked at something on the internet together, laughed a bit. I realized it wasn't worth hashing over, this one. It doesn't always have to be a big deal. I don't always have to have the last word, or even make a case for myself.

I got up, came downstairs. Wrote this bit. It's over now. But in a different way than this started. I'm over it. Not you.

[daphneeck]

Start Knowing, Start Trusting

Start Knowing. Elizabeth Gilbert said that from the stage at the Brave Magic workshop I attended last month. 

The room was full of women, white women of means to be exact. Yeah, a pretty privileged group. I didn’t love that part. It felt weird. 

But the truth is–even in the middle of all that privilege–most of the people in the room were pretty much saying “I don’t know” all the time.

I have had “Start knowing” in my head ever since. I mentioned it to Diane Halperin during a tarot reading I had over the phone, while walking around the park. She said, “Oh, Daphne, you’ve known for a long time. You always know. What you need to do is to start trusting your knowing.”

[daphneeck]

Beating Crisis Mode

Raise your hand if you’ve used crisis energy to get you through. Yeah, me too. It’s not always bad. I’m not completely against it. Responding to a crisis gets your adrenaline going—energy!—so it works.

But Crisis Mode is no place to live; it takes a toll. If you make Crisis Mode your go-to, you’ll pay for it with your mental health, a broken body, sinking relationships, or a burned out career. The cost is just too high. So I'm not paying the Crisis Mode tax anymore.

There’s another choice I am practicing when I have the wherewithal these days. It’s simple, effective, and makes me feel better than Crisis Mode does.

Stop.

Take a breath.

Put your shoes on.

Grab a partner (if you want).

Go outside.

Even if it’s too early, even if you’re running late.

Take one step forward—literally, physically.

Let the motion propel you forward, into the next step.

Take a walk, for realsies.

Keep walking.

Keep walking.

Keep walking.

See where it takes you.

Who knows, maybe it leads to Knowing the right next step to take.

Measured, intentional action guided by your wise mind.

If not, well, at least you got your walk in and saw a pretty view.

And Crisis Mode was averted for a day.

[daphneeck]

If I Could Go Back 20 Years

I’d grab that girl’s shoulders, and look her in the eye. I’d tell her what was coming, I’d say dramatically, with a big voice and bigger eyes, Take heed! In one year’s time, A great temptation will befall. To form your life to another’s will is a terrible thing. But to stifle the love in your heart is the greatest sin of all. Then I’d tap on her chest three times, Try to crack it open a bit, Say my incantations, Sprinkle dark potions on her hair and perfect lips. I’d say, Here! A gift for you called Your Twenties – yours for the living and loving, Don’t waste them on cheap words like: try, prove, wait, earn, impress, And the worst of them, afraid. Don’t be stingy with your affection, don’t protect it for The One. Be lavish with your heart, Don’t concern yourself so much with right and wrong. Practice making love, learn to do it well. Let love show on your pretty face, Be brave and lift the veil. It may not last forever, and it may not be returned, But – You will be enchanted, You will be enchanting, You will enchant. I could travel time and show myself to her like this, Face to same old face, But that girl would not listen to a witch. She prefers to live her lessons, No magic will speed the learning. So she will go her long and lonely-winding road, Meet me here one day with worn out feet, And arriving on her knees in gratitude, Let me gather her in my embrace.

[daphneeck]

Hoping, Holding Hands

The sun will come and go. 

Your wish for sun will remain. 

Keep this moment, scribble it down, bury it in secret dirt. 

Sneak out to dig it up tomorrow in the dark.

[daphneeck]

Joy

The other day I went for pedicures with my friend, Bethany. The weather was perfect and the tree outside the nail salon was blooming. She took my photo, then we took a selfie together. She called it Joy. It took me back a bit because she knew. I’d been very honest with her. The last months have been so hard, we’re just now starting to see a glimpse of the light! But she was so right. It’s all joy. Can you believe that each and every one of us gets to live our very own life? The ups and downs and all of it. The monotony, the circular issues we tackle day after day, even the drudgery of it all. The abundance of experiences, every one of them, guzzled down to the dregs. That satisfied grin, that back of the hand wiping the lip, that empty cup greedily held up, asking for more. Joy. We’re all such suckers for life.

[daphneeck]

Three Miles

I’ve figured out that it takes about a three-mile walk each day to feel somewhat grounded in this body of mine. Three miles cut through the lizard brain; if I’m walking with Caleb, that’s when we stop airing our fears and grievances and drop into a deeper conversation. 

He and I have adopted these lines from a poem by Antonio Machado as our theme for 2017: “Traveler, there is no path. The path is made by walking.” We are making the path by walking this year. I trust we will Get Somewhere or Greet Someone or Make Something or Learn Somehow along the way. But if we don’t, we will at least Be Where Our Feet Are every day.

I took a selfie yesterday after walking two miles along the beach. My hair was uncombed and windblown; my worry lines weren’t muted by makeup. I’d almost (but not yet) let go of a presentation that didn’t go perfectly the day before, a scheduling snafu that frustrated me, a stress-eaten bowl of ice cream with crumbled crackers on top after hearing the possibility of hail damage to our Omaha home. You can see it on my face in that photo: I was mid-way into walking off the lizard brain. Then I sat down on a log and started writing this note on my phone. At one point a floppy dog ran up to me and tried to read what I was writing; I said no. But it was obvious that he was right where his feet were so I called him a good boy. He happily ran away and I happily kept writing with my thumbs.