home

A little delay on my weekly blogging. But not as delayed as my luggage. I type from a sunny day in the Sunapee/New London area of New Hampshire. I'm happy to look down at my legs and see that I'm wearing a pair of favourite pants - a pair of pants I had with me during my time in Portugal and that were returned to me with the rest of my luggage 9 days after the fact, during the middle of the night, by a courier service based out of Boston.

Since last weekend it's been.... busy. TransAtlantic flying. Packing up one house. Opening up to a new home. Reconnecting with my love. Falling back into life. Entering a new frontier of professional life. Meeting new co-workers. Settling into 50-minute hours with clients of all shapes, sizes, and ages! Saying goodbye to faces in Portugal. Recognizing that my connections in northern New Hampshire will take on a new shade - visitor rather than neighbour. Change.

Some of the details.

The move went ridiculously smooth. Bradford certainly found an incredible home for us, lovely in so many ways - from the amount of space within the home to the quiet of the surrounding area, the proximity to work, and a sense of community in the people that we meet as we wander around. On Monday, we walked to Ben's appointment at his new vet and it was amazing. Within 5 miles, there are lakes and ponds, mature forests of mixed trees, a state park and wildlife management area, lumberyard/hardware, fly-fishing shop, micro-brewery & pub, post office, gas station, grocery store, and all the amenities that go with a population of about 5000 people. Our furnishings and stuff simply fell into place within the walls of the house. Bradford has space for tools. Ben has a new run from a doghouse/toolshed to nearby Spruce trees.

The size of the Uhaul was laughable - 26 very long, very tall feet. I'm not sure I've ever been part of such an inefficient packing job but it worked - we were light on time for getting organized and things poured into and out of the truck with ease (though a few bruises and scabs tell a different story on my skin). It was lovely that my employer gave me the day off on Friday so we had a very luxurious and low stress, 4-day weekend for getting settled. It feels like home. And the space felt ready to hold life. And now it does. It feels to me like a space that will receive friends and family.

Work is thrilling and gentle, both. I'm in awe of my co-workers, particularly the administrative folks, the way that they move with and around each other managing and moving information. I'm also in awe of the clients I've gotten to sit with thus far. It's taking me some time getting used to the paperwork and the systems that help the organization run but I'll find my flow, my own rhythm with time. I'm working with a few clients who challenge me in exciting and uplifting ways because of their age - they fall between 9 and 11 years and I find myself somewhat panicking about meeting them where they're at, noticing that I need to adjust my use of language and developmental sense (no 'f-bombs' that seemed to have a certain presence working with adolescents in wilderness therapy, fewer multi-syllabic words that show up working with adults).

I haven't had much time for massage in the last week. I gave a session to Bradford over the weekend and I'm a little embarrassed to admit that it felt kind of like the first time. Maybe like riding a bike, as I get my hands back into the practice, it will come back.

All in all, a very cool ride. At the same time I was thinking to myself that one of the more interesting experiences I had in all the movement and change of the last week was this dance of the missing luggage. I once thought that life was about putting the pieces together in such a way so as to maximize comfort, security, stability, happiness, and ease. I laughed with Bradford, at myself, as I looked around the new home space, remarking on the way that I try to keep a house in constant readyness for a photo shoot - there's something about my dialing and neurotic ways where I'm calmed when everything is in its place and there's a place for everything (preferably with no cords showing). I think my big sister, Corry, can maybe giggle at a shared spirit here - or maybe not.

Anyway, I was thinking that I used to think of life as a process of minimizing mess and maximizing order. I happen to love my life. I love my work. I love the possibility of growth in what I do, particularly bridging psychotherapy and bodywork. I love my family, both my family of birth and my family of choice. It's not because everything is in its 'place' that I love my life. In fact, as I moved through the dance of the missing luggage, I loved the life that flowed through that experience: noticing the holding on, the constriction and tightness and noticing also when I could let go, laugh, enjoy the ride. It was particularly hilarious to notice that in one moment I might be pining over the potential loss of a favourite sweatshirt while unpacking bags of unworn clothes!

I'll attach some pic's when I hook up my camera to the computer.
It's good to be back.

"Obrigada a todos."

My last day in Portugal. What a very big time this has been. I recall walking Ben on a snowy road in December, consumed by the idea of doing this 3 month training in massage therapy. While it made no sense to my mind, I felt already in the grip of possibility.

And here I am sipping coffee not 50 meters from the sea in southwestern Portugal. 90 days of massage education and experience now live in my cells. My hands hum. My imagination runs wild with ideas and dreams for what else is possible.

I have had experiences which have changed the way I see massage as well as altered the way I live in and move with my own body. Massage feels to be an art form between two - between their bodies, their minds, their hearts, and their spirits, simultaneously opening a door to behold the Holiness of Life.

I have been embraced by life in a small Portugese community. I have been humbled by the

way that strangers have enfolded me into their hearts, sometimes without language - a different sort of moving art between people. Just as profound. Revealing the brilliance of the human spirit. Revealing another doorway into the Holy.

I love the practice of psychotherapy, whether with words or touch. Connecting deeply with people and exploring the human spirit is my passion. I admit that, for me, it's less about trying to be helpful, more about tapping into that quality of contact which defies language but which moves worlds, opens the imagination, dissolves delusion.

I'm very pleased to return to the world of talk therapy on Tuesday. I wonder how 3 months in Portugal in massage training will manifest, how I will engage with clients and how I will let myself be moved by the souls I meet across the room. To touch without touch.

I'm ready to be home. I'm excited about becoming tangled up and enlivened by a new place, a new geography, a new community of people, and teachers in myriad forms.

Muito obrigada Portugal. Muito obrigada.

people and places of Portugal, cont'd

pictures for now....

Pedro on his bike.

Laressa being... Laressa.

The group on the beach.

A local classmate's dojo.

The sea.

week 13

Some news....

I'm in my final week of the massage training program. This is the last Sunday I'll sit here at Lazuli Bar drinking coffee (though, I imagine I'll be here many or most of the next 7 days either for coffee and be

er). This week includes some final theory, some more practicing (our last 2 sessions with members of the general public), and, of course, some written exams.

Overall, I'm not too bothered with the testing process - I feel pretty solid on much of the theory we've studied with the exception, still, of Anatomy and Physiology (unfortunately, this makes up 2/3 of the content of the exams). It's tough to settle into the studying because the sky has been clear blue, the sea welcoming and warm, the temperatures pushing into 80+ degrees (24-26+ degrees Celsius for my Canadian cousins), and it matters to me to make time for faces I may not see again - over beer, or coffee. Alas, I've not been sleeping much past 3am for the past week and this affords me some quiet and dark hours for hitting the books.

I am thrilled by the idea of seeing Bradford and Ben next Sunday - from beautiful faces here, to beautiful faces at home. I am also very excited to be starting my new job with Counseling Associates of New London in just over a week (no rest for the wicked) and feeling what it's like to be back in the world of talk therapy after

being immersed in body therapy for 3 months and feeling so profoundly affected as a human body by my experience. Even better, Bradford informed me yesterday, via email that we were accepted as tenants for a home. Not a moment too soon, I might add, we agreed that we wouldn't panic in earnest until tomorrow.

While I haven't seen any photo's of our new home (we take possession on the 15th), I have formed images in my mind based on what Bradford has shared - 4 bedrooms, 1.5 baths, 2 car garage (2 of the bedrooms are built separate from the main home above the garage with a separate entrance for guests and a massage space), large lot, new renovation (we're the first to live in the renovated space - can you say "no mold!"), 5 miles to work in New London, 3 miles to a brewpub (www.flyinggoose.com) in Wilmot, NH. I'm grateful that Life always seems to pull through in ways more astounding, more intelligent than I.

And so, this last week is causing me to begin to assimilate my learnings - a process I'm sure will continue for years. Some things I know:

- I will keep drinking coffee. And beer;

- I can be both graceful and a little terrorizing when I'm ejected out of my comfort zone and into a new experience;

- I am resilient;

- I can love someone whom I can't stand living with;

- touching another is a Holy experience, moving beyond words;

- I can wear a dress;

- Ian Rankin is a life-saver;

- I like having my own computer and look forward to becoming a Mac girl one day;

- sometimes it's better to let go of the need to be right and make my point. Sometimes I can simply take a breath, go with the flow rather than rip out a plant that took so long to take root, a plant that one day may bear fruit;

- Portugal is beautiful;

- there is so much to learn and so many teachers;

- I'm a very lucky duck.

Some pic's today. A few of the faces that have sustained me, challenged me, made me laugh and cry, and buoyed me through this time. My housemates (Jesse, Cameron, Geraldine) from the ghetto; Katerina who cooks my dinners; Pedro who greets me each morning with a smile.

More faces to be clipped onto next week's entry!

dreaming into being

Sunday morning. There's a light rain falling outside the window. I sit, perched, drinking coffee, watching waves roll in softly. I breathe in, take a look around inside and check out if there's any words I have to share - feel into whether there's something figural in my field that is reaching towards the keys on this MacBook. One thing I recall is that I was awakened in the middle of the night, my mind called to thoughts, thoughts which had the power to pull me out of my slumber and into a dance with a partner I could not touch.

I could feel the lumpy pillow under my head. I could feel the light balance of warmth and softness of my sleeping bag. I could hear the waves washing in on the beach a block away through my open doors. But as real as my thoughts felt, as demonstrated by their ability to pull me from rest, I could not hold them, turn them over in my hands, explore their texture, taste, sound, or colour.

The theme of my thoughts is the life that feels to be constellating thousands of miles away in New Hampshire and awaiting my return from Portugal. Or so it seems. The weight of thoughts. The weight of imagination. The gravitational pull of a life formed in my mind from wee bits of information, little facts - clients await me at my new job; Bradford and Ben driving the New Hampshire countryside seeking a new home

for us to rent; people I don't know keening to move into the cottage that I haven't seen for nearly 3 months but that continues to hold my 'stuff'; a course to teach with Granite State College; contemplating how I can complete my massage internship and get licensed in New England. And normal 'life stuff' like Ben's veterinary care, reconnecting with family and friends, figuring out health insurance, balancing finances. And all the time, as I continue in this massage program, I'm wondering how this will training will be woven into my world back in the real world.

My time in Portugal with this training has had a surreal quality. Dreamlike. Not dreamy-comfy all the time. The sea and the sunshine, the flowers, the warmth of people have been lovely and buoyed and held me through some of the rockier experiences. The dream state has also been edgy, disquieting. There have been moments of upheaval bordering on overwhelm. Many times I found myself reaching to the telephone (and later to Skype) to connect with Bradford's grounding voice or the laughter of Kirsten so that I could continue putting one foot in front of another through my confusion. The simultaneous weight and lift of 'just this moment, just this breath' became a lifeline when my homeostasis seemed to be rocked beyond my capacity to hang on and all that was left was to let go.

Coming into the last two weeks of Portugal I can feel my worlds merging. I am compelled to

attend to facets of life in New England and I remain mindful of being here as fully as possible. Holding both. My gratitude for the opportunity to participate in and engage this program is beyond words. I have yet to comprehend or synthesize how my being has been altered. Similarly, my gratitude that there is another world unfolding to receive me from this experience leaves me breathless and bursting. Emerging from one dream state and entering another - it's all rather beautiful. Maybe a part of the human experience more universally - to be altered by each moment and, in turn, moving through the dreaming ready to be awakened.

Who knows?