crnnoel crnnoel

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Corinne Cunningham  Mother. Writer. Reader. Knitter. Home educator. Tea drinker.

Thinking lots about trusting the timing of our own unfolding. How it's not something that can be rushed. How this trusting can run alongside the concept of not knowing what tomorrow brings and making the most of each day, not against it. How forcing and striving does nothing for creativity. How I keep coming back to the desire to feel expansive in all aspects of life. Expansive and free... 🌠 What's on your mind these days?

This afternoon, while watching Fynn dance the line between sand and ocean, I was thinking about jumping into things before we're ready, and how that point is hard to be certain of... How you have to trust and listen and do the thing we've all been trained not to do: trust your instincts. When he eventually stepped into the water I laughed, a full belly laugh, and his smile was worth every cringe I held back. Every "It's March! Where are your shoes?" I swallowed. He listened to the deep calling from within that told him what his body needed: salt water on his toes. He got it, and I saw a weight lifed off his shoulders.
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Later at home I started reading Chapter Three of Women Who Run With the Wolves, and low and behold it's all about the retrieval of intuition... Dr. EstΓ©s writes, "So, we must be able to see that for the intuitive psyche to be invigorated, the nice hovering protector must recede. Or perhaps, more accurately, we eventually find ourselves pushed out of that nice coze tΓͺte-Γ -tΓͺte, not because we planned it that way, not because we were completely ready β€”no one is ever completely readyβ€”but because there is something waiting for us at the edge of the woods, and it is our fate to meet it." .
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What's waiting for you at the edge of the woods? Will you meet it before it disappears?

Sunday πŸ“šπŸ“–βœ’οΈπŸ—“οΈπŸ“‹

Saturday πŸ“šβ˜•πŸ“š what are you reading this weekend?

Vacation came and went and there's little proof but a few photos and a small pile of Florida sand that made it's way into my bedroom carpet.

Sunday evening we sat at home, and the four of us looked at each other and all wondered out loud, "did that really happen?" That's what nearly six days in the car, and four days of jam packed activities in the Florida sunshine will do to you. It was a beautiful whirlwind of a trip, and within it we created many memories of laughter, adventure, and family legends.

Now we're home where the wind is still chilling bones, though the calendar says otherwise. Yesterday I drove Lucas to the train station and watched the nearly full moon set low in the horizon. It was breathtaking, the glow and fullness. By the time I pulled away from the car park the moon was gone, tucked in for the daylight hours and the sky laid in wait of the sun.

The days are flying fast and hard and instead of tightening my grip, I'm easing into the flow of it all. {You can continue reading in today's blog post... Link is in my bio 🌠🌈}

Draft number I don't remember what, here we come! βœ’οΈ Over vacation, as is always the case for me, I had some clarity on my creative life, and my work life. There's overlap, but they're not always one and the same. In both, though, I've been compartmentalizing, micromanaging, giving myself only x amount of time for things that could use more, or less, attention.

I've been resisting any rhythm and focusing solely on routine. One without the other is either without joy or without form. I'm grasping at something here, but I think it has a little bit to do with balancing my feminine and masculine energies, among a few other things... which means being open to creative inspiration while clearing the path for some hard work. Fresh air and play, rigorous activity and space to listen... So this week I'm sinking in to myself and listening. I'm prepping the spaces around me for creativity, play, and work, hoping for that sweet spot of intersection where they all meet. I've loosened the tight grip on my schedule, have found my way back to a bullet journal instead of a more rigid planning approach, and I feel like I can breathe again.

This book is calling to me. For another round of edits and possibly self publishing. It takes place in the fall... So... Perhaps this autumn is when it will see it's day in the spotlight. I'm feeling hopeful, and like I know enough about this creative process to start acting like I belong in the conversations that I shy away from because I haven't published a book yet. I know creativity, I know the process, and I'm ready to take my seat at the table and participate. What that means or might look like, I'm not entirely sure yet 🀷 but I think it'll be something good πŸ’•

How's your week shaping up? Are you finding space to play within your creativity? Are you finding ways to show up for yourself? And if so, how? I'd love to hear and cheer you on πŸ’“

πŸ’•Home πŸ’•

Earlier today, somewhere in Georgia, Frank Turner's Polaroid Picture came on and tears sprung to my eyes. This morning it was clearly evident that the kids were feeling all the same feels I shared in yesterday's post. Watching my kids with their grandparents is heartwarming, but watching them say goodbye... Gut wrenching. Somehow, despite all our own parent/child relationship issues, my children have incredible relationships with all four of their grandparents. It takes work, as does everything worthwhile, but my children remind me that loving those around us is often as simple as showing up and accepting them for who they are πŸ’• 'Let go of the little distractions/Hold close to the ones that you love/Cause we won't all be here this time next year/So while you can, take a picture of us....
So in the stillness in the moment/Make sure you take a Polaroid picture/And keep it with you forever/To remind yourself that everything changes/But there was this one time/There was this one time/When things were okay" from Polaroid Picture by Frank Turner 🎢 (oranges from our trip to Dooley Groves yesterday... Not Georgia peaches, which would have been fitting for the post, but I like to be consistent in my Instagram imperfections πŸ˜†πŸŠπŸ‘)

I'm going to look at this photo next week when I'm layered up in wool and warmth, and remember that spring is creeping closer. Travel does funny things to me (all the time, but especially with extended family)... It kindles longing and hope and adventure and nostalgia all at the same time. Right now my brain hurts from packing for the beginning of the journey home, prepping food and doing laundry... from people-ing beyond my comfort zone even with breaks... from new experiences and the same stories that get told over and over again. It's that bittersweet, boneweary fatigue that you need recovery time for after a trip. And it's also the joy of getting back to being the four of us... as wherever we are when it's just us four, we find home πŸ’•

These tiles get me every time. The colors, the textures, how alone they're beautiful but together they're beyond stunning πŸ’• there's a treat over on the blog today! @jenniereadsandwrites has a guest post up, and it's a sweet tribute to online communities and writing friends. The link is in my profile if you'd like to hop over and give her some love βœ’οΈπŸ’•

Florida has been sunshine and sandy toes, pool dwelling and palm trees, late nights and early morning yoga sessions on the porch. There's adventures for some, and hiding out at home, blissfully alone, for others πŸ˜‰πŸ™‹ lots of deep breaths and intentionally chosen words and letting things go and learning to speak up and do what's best for me and my little family in the midst of the bigger family of inlaws... πŸ§œπŸŒ΄β›±οΈ I'm so pleased with my Jessie's girl sweater, done up in Knitpicks cotlin (a cotton and linen blend). It has a beautiful drape, and it feels like summer breezes and self worth and the gentle badass power that comes with making something with your own two hands... It also goes well with my last post that resonated with many of you. If you haven't seen it yet, be sure to check out @stasiasavasuk's Ted talk where she talks about inside outside congruency. It's a game changer πŸ’•

We're on day two of the first Cunningham family road trip of 2019. 81 South somewhere in Pennsylvania, Nirvana is playing, we're laughing about that one time I asked "who's this" and he looked at me incredulously and said "Nirvana" and thought I was messing with him. I wasn'tπŸ˜†

Yesterday while packing I had a mini identity crisis. I've been slowly creating a wardrobe that feels like me, that's more centered around natural fabrics and more sustainable fashion. On Thursday I tried on what I wanted to bring to Florida, clothes that I haven't really worn since I bought second hand off season. Happy with it all, in the suitcase they went. Well yesterday I looked at the linens, the warm weather outfits and freaked the fuck out. I wanted to reach for the clothes I've always worn, to reach for the ones I can hide in. Lucas was working from home and so I dove into a rant and freak out about not knowing how I want to dress and not knowing what I even like, and who the hell am I anyway? Lucas looked panicked, "wear your overalls!" He said, "You're always happy wearing your overalls!" πŸ˜†

Since starting some deep soul work the last few months I've been having these freak outs more and more frequently, but I also come back to myself in a tender, more loving way than before, uncovering another layer of self and showing her some love. I had a session with @downtoearthholisticwellness on Monday, and we talked about how it's not really about finding yourself and who you are and what you like, it's about peeling off the layers of other people people's perceptions of you until you're left with you πŸ’• The work is uncomfortable and expansive and hard as hell. I chopped my hair off earlier in the week, took the scissors to it myself and felt another layer peel off away. It was sticky like when you covered your palm with Elmer's glue as a child and waited for it to dry and then peeled it off whole.

Yesterday Hawks guided me from the moment I woke up and looked out the window and one caught my eye, until the sun went down and a stoic silhouette sat in a tree as we moved at a snail's pace down 495. Their medicine, the encouragement to listen to your intuition... is clear πŸ”₯🌠

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