Trust and Evolution

It’s late May and, as I write this, snowflakes the size of quarters make a steadily growing carpet of white on my deck. It started gently, bits, like confetti, meandering toward the ground, but after two hours a thin white coat covers the trees, the grass, the purple petunias. Two days ago I stood barefoot under a brilliant blue sky, bent over a picnic table trying to decide what color to splash on the increasingly muddled canvas before me. How did I get myself into this?

After eighteen months of lockdowns and social distancing, weary of zoom gatherings and phone calls, three friends and I, all safely vaccinated, gathered for a reunion. We convened on the shores of Wallowa Lake, near my home, in honor of our first meeting a decade ago. We initially came together in a writing program led by Kim Stafford, Oregon’s former poet laureate. During that year we wrote and shared our stories, a process that led to the crafting of deep, lasting friendships, the kind that only arise from sharing the most vulnerable truths of ourselves.

Since that time, we have managed to gather each year to share stories, write together, and catch up on life. I don’t know their families, I’ve never visited their homes, but these women know me more truly, more authentically, than anyone else does. I treasure these opportunities to be myself in whatever guise that is, without expectations or judgement.

This year, we came together not just to re-connect but also to re-ignite – our writing practices, our creativity, our lives. Thus the painting. Our goal was not to create a masterpiece, or even a complete piece at all, but rather to use paint and color and texture to layer and evolve the canvas in whatever way we felt moved. In other words, to risk creating without having any knowledge of or plan for the outcome. Scary stuff. But as most of us know, risk is the path to growth, and each of us was struggling with the process of evolving.

Our ages span two decades, with the youngest being a year shy of 50 and the eldest nearly 70. In the last ten years, we’ve seen each other through the challenges of raising small children, near divorces and reconciliations, job changes, graduate programs, financial struggles, drug addicted family members, children graduating and leaving home. In the last year alone, one of us lost her mother, another had a son working as a Covid nurse, one struggled to be a full-time mom/educator while keeping her business afloat, and one looked for support to leave a toxic work environment in the midst of a pandemic. Now, with the possibility of a return to a more ‘normal’ life, each of us are in the process of re-imagining our futures.

Over the course of several days we painted and wrote, we cooked, we walked, we worked with tarot cards (a long-standing tradition amongst us). Each of us was angsty, and we took turns being irritated, aggravated, obstinate and defiant in the ways only possible with true friends. We wondered – Who am I now? Where is my life going? What’s next on my path? How do I shape my future? (Yes, we are all middle aged, and no, we are ‘not dead yet!’) In response to questions, the group offered more inquiry: “What if, have you thought about, it sounds like, I wonder what would happen if…” And we also offered validation, “I understand, I know what you mean, Ah, yes. In my experience…”

 As I reflect on that week, I am struck by the power of these relationships, relationships in which I feel safe enough to be vulnerable and authentic, relationships that support my evolution as a woman. This is the same kind of environment, one of trust and safety, that I aim to create with my patients. As a practitioner, I provide information, knowledge and experience. My patients come seeking guidance and support. Together we find the best path forward, as each patient discovers the authority and autonomy to make her own choices regarding her health care. As a practitioner of Chinese Medicine, I hope to educate and empower every woman I work with to take charge of her health, to be confident in her choices, and to continue to grow and discover her authentic selves, no matter what her age or stage of life. I strive to create partnership and an environment of trust and safety, where my patients can ask hard questions, be vulnerable, and experience support and validation.

On our final evening together, my friends and I gathered in my tiny kitchen to cook and eat. Each of us chose a job and staked out territory on the limited counter space. At one point, done with my work, I stood back to watch and listen—to the laughter, the good-natured arguing, the sarcasm—and, before I even took a bite, I felt full to bursting. 

That this group of friends was here so soon before I launched this platform, a move that requires confidence, courage, and a willingness to be seen in the unforgiving world of the internet, and that we spent our time together exploring the unknown, taking risks, being vulnerable and honest with each other seems hardly coincidental. While spring in the mountains is fickle, with 70-degree temperatures one day and snow the next, true friendships and authentic partnerships provide a steadiness upon which we can, without question, rely.

I invite you to join me on the journey that is Ground and Sky. For now, I’m providing guidance and support for women’s health via online and in-person consultations, using my training and experience in Chinese Medicine and Functional Medicine. As things evolve, I will be offering online classes (self-guided and live) and in-person gatherings. If you know someone who might benefit from my services, please forward this post and/or a link to my website: www.groundandskyhealth.com. I invite you to follow me on social media: Facebook at Ground and Sky Health, and Instagram @groundandskyhealth.

May we all continue to evolve, to grow, to expand, to change, to be brilliant and defiant and powerful, each in our own way.