Come home to me baby



I am learning to drive a boat. This is a dream. One I barely knew I held. In a place I now hold as another home. A heart home. A home where love is more than I ever imagined and twinkle lights tease the water as I sip my morning coffee and say prayers to the lake.

I am learning to drive a boat. I need constant practice and repetition to feel secure and safe when I am driving. Docking the boat can make me feel like a complete failure.

The first time I took the wheel it was going at a snail's pace. I couldn't control it. Every time I turned the wheel there would be a delay in the movement of the boat so I would think I needed to turn it more or differently. I didn't realize I had to be patient and wait.

When you are going slowly in a motor boat it is constant adjustments, it is harder than when the boat is on a plane, which might be one of my most intensely joyful feelings.

Every now and then when I get the boat into a plane (which means you go really really fast and the boat literally rises on top of the water and it feels like flying) and then I back off the speed the plane falls away. I am still learning to talk and listen to the boat and the water and the wind to find the speed that it is asking to be at to stay on the plane each time. And each time it is different.

You have to learn to feel it.

When I fall off the plane I feel frustration and like I will never get it. I like to get things right. I don't like to fail.

I have patience issues. I want everything I want now. I don't want to wait. I don't want to make constant adjustments because I don't like going slow.

I am learning to drive a boat. The boat is teaching me to feel speed and movement. The other night I drove my love and I out to the big basin during magic hour. I got up into a plane and the wind blew my hair and the sky was pink and I was watching this man sit on his boat and be driven, I watched him relax as I took control.

I cried as the wind stung my eyes.

Then we tucked ourselves into a spot where we could both sit and watch the sunset while the boat rocked us deeper into a snuggle.

The sky kept changing. From pink to purples to blues and grays. We were both in awe. It was one of the favorite moments of my life.

It is what I hold onto when we fall off of our personal plane. When we go from feeling so high and in love to fighting and being triggered from our past twenty years each of old stories and hurts and wounds and holes and fears.

We are scared. We are scared of how good this feels inside of a really fucked up time. Two divorces, kids, transitions, a time when neither of us expected to meet and fall in love in about two hours. We go from a snail's pace making constant adjustments for the other to being on the plane, tears of joy stinging our eyes and then we stop listening, hearing and we fall off the plane.

Boom. Ouch. Fear. More fear.

We have our old fears. The ones we carried from childhood into our past marriages and then created new ones inside of soul contracts that needed to end.

We have those fears and they are being challenged by the other that maybe they are no longer true.

When you challenge someone's deepest fears by giving them more love than they have ever felt, it should be easy, but, it kind of is like when I mess up docking the boat or I fall off a plane and I pull away from the wheel and say, "forget it, i can't do this."

It is that moment of wanting to run from what you want most because it means you have to be inside of the fear, challenge it for yourself because no one can confront it for you.

Every time I witness myself manifest my fears I am amazed at how powerful of a manifestor I am. Luckily I have a partner and friends who won't let me get away with the fears being more than my joy bubble.

After I refused to touch the boat again after messing up the docking and then turning the starter instead of shutting the engine down (yep, seriously) I made a choice to vision my next boat ride. I saw the planes, I saw myself feeling the water, the boat, the wind. I asked my love to talk me slowly through each thing as though I had never done any of it before so I could feel safe in my fear of messing up.

I docked perfectly. I understood and I visioned it before and during. And my love held space for my fear. He let me process then heard what I needed to move through the fear together.

And now I find myself needing to give him space for his fears. I need to let him process and hear what he needs from me.

We are making constant adjustments every time we slow down and make space so that we may find our way to each other.

We want to come home to each other. We want to dock the boat together. We want to create a new way of loving and nurturing and holding space.

We plane. We fall. We make love. We adjust again. We feel. We listen. We hear. We process. We dock. We make more love.

And we say...

Come home to me baby, come home.

xo - Hannah


Laughing Loon Retreat

We have only 4 spaces left at our magical retreat where loons swim and candles are generously lit.

And the food... well, the food will be amazing.

The Laughing Loon retreat from September 24-27th  in Maine.

Join us.