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Today we are all spread out, my older daughter is in France with her dad, and my younger daughter is with me chez mes parents, en Utah.

It has been a welcome change of pace, to leave home, and feel the contrast in my being--how relaxed I can remain, how much I can let go in the moment, and how easy it all can be--even if I did get a little overwhelmed by the preparations--mostly, I see now, that much of the stress was anxiety resulting from thoughts about letting my daughter go so far away without me.

But once we were off--I'd swear the plane ride was a dream, it passed so quickly and easily.

It has been nice to throw my arms around my dad and give him a big kiss on the cheek, and to spend time with my mother in person, and repeat over and over to her, all the goodness, that she has already heard mille fois on the phone, but is always happy to hear again and again.

So far, lots of down time, a beautiful hike, healthy food, beautiful space. Feeling thankful.

                                            Albion Basin Alta, Utah

Also, as a part of my kin is traveling in France, I feel myself revisiting those first magical moments at 19 when I first flew over that storybook land. I remember seeing my first cathedral. It was the cath├ędrale d'Auxerre. I remember being so overwhelmed by the beauty of such a place, and the possibility of such an edifice existing in this world. I remember spinning in the candlelight, tears streaming down my face, feeling time stop-- perhaps downloading all of the prayers ever uttered there. Her dad sent me this picture of my daughter lighting her candles in the same cathedral--one of her favorite things she loved to do when she was two and we lived in Paris. But now she looks so grown up.

I heard the prayers all over again, when I saw this picture.

Her footsteps and mine, forever woven together in that place, in our discovery of a world much bigger than the one to which we'd grown so accustomed.

I love that I could let go of my fear and let the truth rise within me, that she would be okay that far from me, that I could trust my knowing that it is time for my daughter to get to know the other half of her roots, to feel another soil under her feet, that it is time for me to let go and let her discover aspects of herself, some of which may have felt foreign, until she saw them reflected in her new surroundings.

It is beautiful to see her spirit grow boundless with joy and discovery, and for her to show herself what she is capable of, even if just the ability to overcome jet lag, or to have the bravery to keep walking forward, eyes clouded with goodbye tears, onto the plane.

Before she left, there were many moments that she was afraid she was going to miss me too much. I told her often that she was missing me more with me right there, in those weeks before she left, than she would in actuality.

And sure enough, the tears subsided instantly on the plane. I received a text, that she had settled into the adventure, and that she told her dad that she didn't miss me as much as she was afraid she would.

I love her clarity. I love that she is spreading her wings, and mostly, I love that I am standing back as much as I can, and letting her.

As for my other daughter, it has been fun for her to have her grandparents all to herself. Something about her is glowing with this.

I, who resisted change for so long, who felt so much fear at the idea of structures being rearranged or dissolved, who felt so anxious about moving, well, in any direction--to find myself feeling strong and brave, and filled with a knowing deep within my cells, that all is truly well, no matter what--that I can peek into problems, and see how they just might not be. That beyond our fear stands the greatest edifice of all-- lasting peace-- that this is accessed by change, and by the act of traveling out of our comfort zone--experiencing life without a safety net. That this is the place that begins to create a true feeling of safety. The leap of faith that creates faith! Expansion. Spreading our wings.

The openness that creates a sense of the permanence we've been in search of all this time, made of the fabric of all those resounding prayers living outside of time. And oh how soft and comforting the texture.

Long exhale. Life is good.


  1. You brought tears to my eyes, Beautiful Writer Friend! Many blessings to you!

  2. Bravissima to you, dear Brooke, and to your beautiful daughters! My regards to your parents, too.

  3. Brooke, I'm so happy you continue to write! Beautiful photos of your girls, beautiful imagery, beautiful writing, beautiful you! I look forward to catching up with you when you return.

  4. Dear friend. I am sobbing here in my living overtaken with emotion. That photo of M and your way of expressing...I am left wordless and full and admiring you so.

    You are beauty.

  5. Oh Brooke, it's taken me so long to read this.

    I lingered over the beautiful photo of your daughter. I could see you as a 19 year old, spinning while time stood still. I know that all is well. I feel your strength.

    Life is good.



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