Ellie and I are in Arch Cape, Oregon for her first art retreat this weekend. It's just the two of us and it's pretty awesome to be here together teaching her the ways of retreating. We're painting and getting sea and salt in our hair and snacking and writing and laughing. And there's of course a heavy dose of remembering to be kind and learning how to take some space when we need it and creating a mess with our words and then hugging it out.
Our time here has me very excited to come back in June for the One Move Retreat (which has five spots left). And it has me thinking about writing a few posts with some thoughts about what I'm learning as we paint and talk and hug it out.
While watching her run on the beach with a new friend this morning, I started thinking about how parenting is so much about trying to stay rooted while the world feels like it spins faster. And I'm not talking about time. That's a given. I'm talking about how you go from knowing what to do in a moment and saying just the right thing to help her learn to hearing her laughter and see her joy literally bubble up around her like magic to watching her run too far from you until she can't see you, until you can't see her, while the tide is coming in and the moment suddenly tosses you over a cliff of worry and knowing you're going to have to pull out the serious voice while not totally losing your shit in front of wedding guests who are suddenly gathering on the beach where just 20 minutes before there was only you and her and adventure waiting. Somehow staying rooted, even if only by a fingertip, in moments like that.
More soon...but I think it's time to nap while she naps...