There are windows in my life that have called me to reflect on the meaning I have assigned my existence but none more violent than the sudden death of a dear friend; One who lived her life's purpose fiercely. Every. Stunning. Day.
In early 2019, the world received news of poet Mary Oliver's passing, and I can imagine that many, like me, felt a similar jarring call. Were you one of them? Or perhaps recent events have called you to a similar place?
I want to take a quick moment to pause and welcome you to Season 3 of Raise In Place.
If we haven’t yet met in real life, over email, or the comments, I write and send these letters and recordings to you from Toronto Ontario (mostly). I would love for you to leave me a little hello in the comments telling me where and who is home for you. I’ll start by leaving a little note for you there!
Last spring I wrote to you about nurturing Raise In Place into a weekly newsletter and sometimes podcast exploring our natural capacity to nurture, unpacking its ties to our consciousness, healing, and our relationships with our dearest.
In year 1 we explored what it meant to raise children in the information age as a connection-first parent.
In year 2, we questioned the curious nature of connection.
And although we have some time before we’re in year 3, I want to take us deeper yet again, by exploring connection through the intentionally crafted and subconscious stories we tell ourselves and each other as we start season 3.
But wait Erika, what do stories have to do with connection?
Let me explain. Within the last few months, I made 3 big and intentional moves for myself and for the courses and community platform I’m building over at buenomarket.com.
I spent much of June to September launching my first course, The Diaper Free Summer, guiding my first cohort of families through 6-weeks of live workshops and Q+A’s. It was an incredible experience to connect with parents guiding their toddlers through a major self-care milestone. What does this have to do with stories? It was the “ah-ha” moment, the “that’s me”, and the “we’re-not-alone-in-this” stories that allowed folks to open themselves up to new ways of supporting their little ones. And it was stories of what is normal, natural, and totally ok-to-be-doing that motivated their toddlers towards self-care and toileting mastery.
What did it teach me? Stories allow us to receive what we need to hear.
I signed up to complete my Permaculture Design Certificate after waiting nearly 2 years for a course to reopen with the instructor I had been dreaming to work with - I nearly jumped through the screen and handed her my money the minute the course opened! I’m just 4 weeks in but one of the requirements to complete my certificate will be a review of my portfolio of my work. Yet in all of my experience in ecological design at a household and community level, and my many years of UX, graphic design, web development and branding work, I’ve only recently committed time to making sense of my story. Why have I spent the last 2 weeks deep diving into crafting a compelling personal story? Stories are a fundamental part of the way we learn. They create an emotional connection with information. And are so much a part of our intimacy with other people, places and things, and with that the adoration, or even fascination with the tiniest of details.
What did it show me? Stories inspire awe in the everyday.
Near the end of summer I followed up on a promise to my brother, a talented game designer/musician, to crack open our story telling potential in a creative writing course with one of the best writing instructors out there - George Jreije (and I may be biased, but he’s truly incredible). Our first writing assignment was to craft a fantasy bio. But wait? What does a not-yet-true story about me have to do with my creative potential. It only took me a moment to see what George was doing. Using the power of our own vision of our future, he was already helping our brains to align our actions to our big goals by creating goals multiple steps ahead of what we’re currently working on.
What opened up for me here? Stories help us to be intentional about the way we show up and share our truths.
Near the end our first 3 hour workshop, while George wrapped up his framework for crafting compelling creative stories, he offered up 3 lines that Mary Oliver included in her poem Sometimes:
Instructions for living a life:
Pay attention.
Be astonished.
Tell about it.
In the context of crafting compelling creative stories, this translates to Observe, Imagine, and Language, also known as OIL.
But we’re not here to write a fantasy novel.
However, maybe there is a chance I can convince you that you are the magic maker in your household, and invite you to step into that role.
Can you imagine using stories more intentionally with your little ones? Drop a ✨ in the comments if you’re keen to learn more. And if you like, tell us a little more about the role stories play in your home at this time in your parenting journey.
If good fantasy writing is a metaphor for daily life, then perhaps we all need a little more magic in what’s we’ve allowed to become mundane.
Pay attention - Observe. Stories allow us to receive what we need.
Be astonished - Imagine. Stories inspire awe in the everyday.
Tell about it - Language. Stories are the way we share our truths.
Sweet friends, we’re back to weekly articles in your inbox Sunday mornings.
Having just celebrated Canadian Thanksgiving last weekend I also want to send a special thanks knowing you have chosen to clear out a small corner of your inbox and your mind to expand with me and return to your family with purpose, something I don’t take lightly at all.
And last of all, I’m taking a quick hand-on-heart and eyes-closed moment of gratitude for Mary Oliver and my dear friend S.R. who’s magic will always be here with us. If you have someone who’s memory you’d like to carry into this season, maybe you’d like to join me in this quiet moment too.
Welcome once again to Season 3 of Raise In Place and I’ll see you in your inbox next Sunday.
👋🏼 Hello from our little house in Toronto’s west end where we’re making breakfast and getting ready for a morning of soccer with our little ones. This afternoon we’ll have a visit from my brother before a friend arrives who will stay with us for a few days at a time over the coming weeks. Living creatively together, in a central location where we can welcome friends and family, and experience all that each season has to offer together, from watering our baby plants in spring to winter hikes by the river, makes it feel like home ❤️ So looking forward to hearing where and who is home for you.