For me it is the details. Functionality of the coffee and tea station mixed with the beauty of the copper bowl where the tea bags rest and the little pitchers of creams. The color story of the flowers. The white balloons. The quotes scattered on walls and mirrors.
I am in transition, while living a life of transitions. A week with the kids. A weekend with the kids and my love's kids. A week without the kids. A weekend with my love.
As I prepare for the first Lift Up at The Magic Lake House I am packing up The Loft. Deciding what I will bring with me for the summer, what will go in storage and await my new home (when I find it) in the fall.
The women coming to the Lift Up, the first in this space that we knew could hold my dream of retreats on the lake, are all perfect. Of course. The way they found me or my work online or through a friend. The way they chose to take a small break from their day to day to be here. In unknown. Because who really knows what happens at a Lift Up other than women on the other side of a Lift Up.
This one feels different. As they often do inside of the many iterations of time and knowing. This one feels like home. Like safety. Cozy. Fluid. Instead of nerves, all the laughter and connection and deep knowing that will carry us into our time doing the 'work.'
I am in The Loft looking at the jar of chopsticks. Obsessing. Do I bring the chopsticks to the lake? Do I pack them?
I wash out the jar and rinse each chopstick. I will bring them. No, don't bring them. Pack them. Or bring some. Well, if you bring some why not just bring the jar?
Details that help me not focus on the reality of the sadness of packing. Details that help me not focus on the unknowns. Details trying to keep me from the mystery of this transition.
I pack them. I can get chopsticks just for the lake. Maybe with flowers and gold on them.
The women coming to the Lift Up are blessing this space. They are my transition. They are the beauty of my work now flowing into a new physical space. They are the trust that sometimes I lack. They are the manifestation of wanting to fall back in love with my work. They are on their journeys. They are sunshine. They are stories. They are lifting up just by making the decision to be here.
The moment before they arrive snacks go out on the white tray. The moment before everything becomes magic.
I take a moment before to listen to the lake. To feel my transition. The antlers anchor me, connect me from what has been to this new life that I have wrestled with deserving, understanding, fighting against because I am so in love.
And that love scares me. Because it is endless. Unconditional. Filled with Lift Ups. The work. The women. The lake. The moments before. The details. The change. And probably some new chopsticks.