We’ve arrive at the time I’ve looked at for years as a time when my life will change drastically. 

Both children are now in school.

For years the majority of my time and energy has been devoted to raising little humans.  Now they will spend time being trained and educated by others. This marks a dramatic shift for their lives and mine.

Ryan grew up so much this summer.  He got taller. Outgrew his shoes and most of his clothes in the seven weeks we were on the road.  But he also got much more independent. I started giving him more room as we drove West as the landscape around us got more open and expansive.  The transition started when we were staying with friends who live on a beautiful piece of land in the Driftless Area of Wisconsin. Ashley’s job is raising three amazing little humans and they are intentional about raining change-makers.  The kids have so much freedom to play and experience joy, fall down and figure it out on their own. Their littlest, not yet two, taught me that it’s OK to give my little one more room to be free.  He may fall, but that’s OK. He won't break. In fact, the falls are important lessons he can only get if he has the room to try.

I’ve thought a lot about this throughout the summer journey.  As we were in the woods and more rural settings I let the children roam.  They directed their days- choosing to dress or not, bathe or not, climb or build, run or crawl.  Their days were their design.

I was not dictating strict guidelines.  I wasn’t worried about how we were perceived.  Fear did not drive me. And without the fear, we all had more freedom. 

Freedom to be our full selves.  To flow. To express. To be.

It is hard to get a taste of that freedom, to ritualize change, and then come home to confined and preassigned days.  To again navigate busy streets and bustling sidewalks and to again feel the weight of others' judgement. To return to set schedules and deadlines.  To answer to other people’s priorities and the overly designed structure of school.

Annabelle has resisted.  She straight up told me she does not like routine. On our last day of summer she said that all she really wanted was to go back on the road.  To have home base be the car, to have space to daydream and then also to land at someone else's home.  To be amidst something different and connecting with different people. In reality, we had routines on the road, but they were designed to allow for constant motion. 

I seek to keep that motion.  I am trying to design days that allow all of us to continue to change and expand, even while we stay in one place.   How do we design our days so we change our surroundings as we expand, rather than allowing the routine to confine and define us?

I hold so many questions as I explore this new phase in my life.  My little brother and sister-in-law are about to finish the Pacific Crest Trail, where they walked 20-30 miles a day for over five months.  On one of their recent report outs, Kendra named the importance of marking transitions. Finding rituals so that your expanded self can occupy old spaces in a new way. 

The end of my pilgrimage, the end of this year of child focused days, the end of the era of having young children under my constant care is here, upon me now.  It feels like a time in my life when I need to be clear about my own needs.  It is a time to be expansive.  In order to do so I need and fortunately have newly acquired space.    

Space to breath.  To write. To think.  To be creative.

Space to design, create, craft. 

Space to grow. 

I want to grow my own consulting and leadership coaching business.  I will create something beautiful and flexible that allows me to connect with people and create with them.  I love designing programs and participatory decision-making processes. I love facilitating and being amidst change. 

The transition to having school aged kids is here.  The movement toward creation, design and prioritization of my work is here.

I bring the freedom we found this summer. 
I bring a presence and attentiveness to this moment, a gift my children continue to give me.
And I bring a longing for something more.  
It is time for me to let my light shine. To create the work I long for. To dream big.
To jump. To run. To fly!

And, I’ve learned from my three year old; when I fall, I’ll brush myself off. Take stock. Learn and take the next leap.

I found a love for writing this summer and will find new ways to share my writing in the weeks and months ahead.  While this marks my last post from my summer pilgrimage it, in so many ways, is only the beginning.