The Language of Dreams

I heard a writer from Queens being interviewed on NPR recently. He said he had tried to write stories about other places but, somehow, it just never felt right. "I daydream in Queens," he said. That simple statement struck a chord deep down inside me. I may live day to day in the mountains of Central Oregon, but I daydream in the South. In fact, most of my dreams have southern accents. I dream of pep rallies and football games, cyprus and magnolias. The South haunts me even in my sleep.
I spent quite a few years trying to pull up my roots. I remember my first few classes at Southern Oregon State when I painfully tried to hide my southern drawl behind a thinly veiled "You Guys." I have thankfully reinstated "Y'all" into my vocabulary. I have come to the realization that we may grow and bloom in many locales, but only if we honor and care for our roots.

I am (finally) proud to say that I am a Wanderlust at Heart, but a Southerner in my Soul. My road has been long and winding from Monroe, Louisiana to Bend, Oregon, with sidetracks here, there, and everywhere in between. I have searched the wide world over for something I had all along---my self. I will continue to wander the world, only now, I can truly say I am not lost.

Where are you roots? What language do you dream in? Have you spent any time with your self lately?

Sweet Dreams Y'all,
Amanda

Flight School

"All Things Want to Fly"
R.M. Rilke

Two days ago, my seven-year-old daughter broke her elbow. She is now proudly strutting the hallways of her elementary school with a neon pink cast. I feel sure that the novelty will wear off and the tedium will set in, but we can safely reassure her that her wing will heal and she will fly again---perhaps she can just work on the landing. The whole experience has got me thinking about flight. I love the Rilke quote from above. I can think of all the times in my life when I have longed to feel the wind beneath my wings---riding my horse Sparky as fast as his pinto pony legs would carry us, skiing in a tuck all the way down Strawberry Hill, riding my yellow Schwinn straight down the levee onto Myrtle Street. I'm not sure exactly when I lost it; all I know is that, at some point along the way, I lost my will to fly. I became a flightless bird, a big chicken. I lost my faith in myself. There is no neon pink cast to help that heal.

It has taken years for me to return to the tarmac, but I am once again flight-ready. This time, the joy I get from helping others is what lifts me off the ground. We all have to find what it is that lifts us up. Then we have to spread our wings and take that leap of faith. I work with teen girls because I want them to feel what it's like to rise up to their potential. This week, I asked them a few questions that I want to pose to you as well:

What great thing would you attempt if you knew you couldn't fail?
What is your special gift and how can you share it with others?
What impact do you want to have on the world?

We all have the desire to fly. What are you waiting for?
See you in the wild blue yonder,
Amanda

The Harvest Moon

I have spent the past 6 months tending to the garden of my soul. So many seeds were planted there while I was in Uganda. I have never considered myself much of a gardner. Weeding, hedging, pruning---these things do not come naturally to me. Growing wild, growing free---that's more my style. You should see my garden out at the farm, tomatoes tumbling across the ground, strawberries reaching through the wire mesh fence, and enough mint to provide juleps for all of Louisiana. So, how was I going to care for those lovely seeds that traveled around the world with me from Kampala, Uganda, to Bend, Oregon? It has taken great effort for me to become a conscious gardner for this precious plot of soul. Last night, I realized that we are coming upon the Harvest Moon this week. I decided it was the perfect time for me to share some of my harvest with you, my fellow gardners.

I have been working through the Women Like Us Foundation to continue to support New Hope Orphanage. We have received grants for new uniforms and have been able to provide bed nets for the entire surrounding village. I have begun a program that allows at-risk youth here to create and implement service projects in Uganda. I have also created Witness Your World Tours which offers travel opportunities for women that combine service, culture, yoga and self-discovery. Our first trip will be back to Uganda in May of 2011. There we will continue to sow the seeds of service. There we will surely receive more seeds to plant in our own gardens. If you are inspired to join us, please visit the website for a trip itinerary and registration information: www.witnessyourworld.com.

As Autumn approaches, I intend to spend more time in this little patch of my garden. I hope you will continue to bear witness for me. In other words, I hope you will bear with me and my blog blathering. I also hope you will begin to share your world with me. What have you harvested? What seeds are you still nurturing in your soul?

Many Blessings on all of Your Gardens, Amanda