The local beach culture here in Turkey is very different from the PH. The water is only warm in the summer, so beach towns get packed in June-July-August. Young and old (it’s normal to be past 70 in a bikini here, yay!) brave the midday sun complete with their beach gear: foldable chairs and tables, towels, mats and coolers. Often they live in the city and stay in their summer houses at the beach three months a year.

The summer house culture concentrates summer energy into three months. Maybe for seasoned locals, it’s just how life is–activities change every season, and it’s actually a beautiful thing. Our daughter, on the other hand, has been beach-hungry since we moved to Turkey. Swimming was an everyday activity in the tropics, so she gets overeager or “gigil” for any moment to swim.

On Blue Day, do a mental check of what you’re overeager for. What do you crave so much that you’ll pack tons of it, maybe even hoard it? What can you do to release that hunger, to tune into what is, what changes, and flow with what comes, as it comes?

<p>The post What makes you overhungry? first appeared on Montalut.</p>

Here’s to using your expertise to serve others in your highest capacity and joy.

Onwards and upwards!

<p>The post What expertise lets you serve at your highest capacity and joy? first appeared on Montalut.</p>

This has been the motif of my life for 7 years: exuberant highs of chasing crazy dreams and investing all of me mentally, emotionally, socially, financially, creatively, only to be followed by abyssmal crashes–unbelivably hard, life-turning crashes that dig out a new rock bottom every time. Seven years ago, I was on a peak clarity with almost heavenly distilled vision. I knew what I wanted and it all came to me.

Since age six I’ve been on a spiritual quest, declaring to the universe that I wanted to be a saint. This seeking led me to Rilke and eventually to Steiner, which allowed the slowburn and digestion of the inner work that informed my art, life perspectives and choices. I never went for what was easy and obvious. Everything had to make inner sense. At age 36, I found peace and spiritual clarity…until I dared to ask, “What’s next? How do I move forward, expand, and clarify further?” The answer came simply and without fanfare: marriage and motherhood.

I’m now 43, and in a few months I will cross the threshold of having been a wife and mother for a full seven-year cycle.

These twin journeys have tested, pulled, pushed, propelled and ripped apart every nanofiber of my being, to the point that I don’t know who I am anymore. The extreme highs and lows of it all have made me dumb, numb and mute. I now live in Turkey where no one speaks English. Everyday for the last two years, I learned to not talk, and maybe alongside it, to not listen. I barely speak to anyone and get by on small talk, even to friends and family back home. Being “invisible” for this long has sealed the deal on this new me, who is muddled, inexpressive, constipated. I don’t flow. I don’t paint anymore. Writing and heartfelt conversations are scarce and feel like blips in the matrix.

And yet, onwards and upwards I go. I asked for this.

My marriage has been tried and tested multiple times over, and whether it survives may not be the point. I am learning what it entails to really see someone and to be seen by that person, in the face of everyday ups and downs. Together we’ve walked the path of courage, bouncing back, exploring unknowns, quiet and crazy laughter, and also financial failures, miscommunication, cultural gaps, strained friendships, self-doubt, depression and health scares. Remembering all that we’ve gone through together just now is giving me the feels…and perhaps this is the gift of marriage: It allows us to show up and be fully present in the realm of feelings, where it gets messy and great. It’s not the land of fairytale feelings. You build a boat together, set it out to sea, and go on wild adventures until the next calm port, where you decide to keep sailing together or not. We are not yet at a calm port.

Motherhood, for its part, has been a wellspring of unmatched joy. To be entrusted with the care and guidance of a child, who can move mountains with a smile or chuckle or happy dance–oh it’s very real that children are magical. Especially their tiny cuddles that go on and on and on every morning and every night. Their wonder and sheer delight in everything, it’s contagious and overflowing. And yet, the depletion in mothering is real too. To give 100% of myself non-stop and to inhabit the same time-space with another human being 24/7 is exhausting, and I always feel guilty for wanting solitude. I had so much of it before, it was my anchor. I never had a mentor; maybe solitude was it. And true to life’s plot twists, my mentor had to die for me to come into my own.

And so, marriage and motherhood are my ongoing wow. There is also the mothering of a different entity, Leadia, also turning 7 this year…and also wild, stubborn and unwielding and full of life.

I started this piece with low and confused energy and now feel lighter, as if I’ve tamed someting inside and let it go.

Some final thoughts: the journey so far has been to name and accept the boundaries of Who I Am, and then lose my anchor and stretch those boundaries far and wide, inside and out, this time in robust, permeable layers: I am still me, but you (other people, the world, life and feelings), who I let so close, are also me. The journey is to lose the I and You from our vocabulary altogether.

I have met amazing human beings along this incredibly wayward road, and their stories and wisdom are mini bonfires that keep me warm. Thank you.

<p>The post What’s Beyond 43 first appeared on Montalut.</p>

I see a nice bungalow home giving that feeling of a wide open space even inside its walls. Think Pinterest farmhouse with the rustic, shabby chic vibe, worn out on the edges and wildly tame–a beloved, inviting home. We’ll have open-plan living and dining spaces, extending to a covered wraparound veranda that has retractable glass roofing, walls and windows. Screened during summer to ward off bugs, and closed off as a sunroom aka winter garden in the colder months.

Outside we have a wide open field perfect for games, picnics and our daughter’s major must-have, a tree house. All around are blooming bushes and fruit trees. We grow our own tomatoes, apples, plums, apricots, oranges, mulberry, lemons, malterri (Japanese plums), pears and pomegranate–a bigger version of our small family garden here in Turkey. This is in the Mediterranean, so it will have Mediterranean greens and herbs: flourishing bushes of rosemary, mint, basil, parsley, spring onions. We’re planting foreign vegetables and fruits too (non-invasive), because this farm is home to us in multiple ways. It’s a capsule of treasured travels and moments lived elsewhere, and what better way to enliven those moments than to nurture and cultivate heirloom seeds from around the world. Maybe we’d be able to grow bananas and calamansi, bringing us the smells and flavors of the Philippines in Europe.

Many Visiting and Gathering Spaces

Around us in courtyard fashion are wooden and stone guesthouses. Standalone villas where friends are welcome to visit to retreat into farm life or stay and become neighbors. Inspired by living architecture, the farm is both streamlined and abundant, expansive and tender, modern and natural. There are nooks and crannies everywhere, freeform spaces to connect with nature or just be alone. In the center are communal places that invite conversations and shared activities–an open kitchen, lounge, library (with the rolling ladder!), breathing space. There’s an oven and open pit for a bonfire and barbeque. A place for bodywork and celebrations.

It’s also a home to nurture our inner child, a safe place to play and experiment. We walk barefoot in our garden, to ground and discharge. I want a 100% organic section for humans too, with wifi jammers, and maybe even the foils and fringe science stuff to protect the space from radiation and waves. An outdoor womb to embrace us and detox us from modern life. Maybe a natural pool.

We make our own butter, cheese, jams, honey, and liquor, and find as much joy in the production process as in the actual farm-to-table wining and dining.

There are art studios, tinkering labs, makerspaces–a coworking space for creatives. And one for businesses.

There’s also a natural school that uses holistic technology to provide a living education that’s personalized to the talent, capacity, and interests of the child. It’s a blend of protecting the sense of wonder and magic in children, and including them in the joys of modern life.

Food Production for Our Home and Beyond

Koray is Mr. Scale, so he searches for organic chicken farming online and finds a video of a poultry farmer with 1,000 chickens in Cannakale, Turkey. I see the wheels turning in his head. The food engineer in him is already doing the math for a scalable system for eggs, meat and dairy production. We’re not just farming for our own consumption. It will make business sense. Nothing will go to waste.

I plow through the Turkish dialogue thanks to automated subtitles, and get schooled on how chickens are raised. Nope, (don’t laugh) we won’t be chasing after chickens to catch their eggs after all, and nope, free-range and organic don’t necessarily go together.

I gravitate more towards the homesteading videos, where farming is more personal and for the household. I like the one by the backyard farmer with 6 hens in a chicken mansion, all being tended to as pets. I learn that there are farms designed for meat and farms just to harvest eggs.

Yin and Yang Farming

My interest is more on the farming lifestyle itself of slowing down, making everyday living sustainable. I’ve done my share of farm visits around the Philippines, both for tourism and for learning courses on Permaculture, Vermiculture and Biodynamic Farming. I like the personal investment in farming: touching the earth myself, cultivating the soil with my bare hands, naming my livestock.

When I first started dreaming up my perfect lifestyle, I always saw it on a farm next to the mountains and sea, with that synergy of nature and tech. I saw myself growing old on a small-scale beach farm community equipped with the latest tech innovations. Koray and I jokingly call it glamfarming, maybe similar to what most would call a weekend farm–a place to relax and grow my own food in an enjoyable way, with just enough surplus to gift to friends and family.

Now that I’m approaching two years in a four-season country, I have a deeper respect for and connection to the rhythm of nature, and the call to live according to this rhythm is ever stronger. The icing on the cake is the community: to have like-minded neighbors and pool resources for support (economic, social, wellness, spiritual) and smart living, such as greentech, agritech, housing tech, edutech. Wow, right?

With Koray bringing in his food production expertise and our 5-year-old needing a school community, step one is to build a prototype that works as a hub for business, education, creativity and joy. Then we can replicate this in different parts of the world, with each location tapping into the local environment, culture, talent, and energy. At their core, these farms are energy centers, bringing in elevated environments, livelihoods, and everyday living. These in turn elevate the mind, heart, and sense of self.

We have done location search in the Philippines, Turkey, Mediterranean Europe, and Central and South America, and we are zeroing in on Albania for the farm because of its designation as a 100% organic country. Montenegro and Macedonia are also tied into the mix as possible locations for an urban annex.

No doubt about it, we will build the farm of our dreams: a yin and yang farm and a happy place for us that is personal plus.

If you’re interested in joining us on this journey, send me a message, would be happy to have a chat.

<p>The post Imagining Our Dream Farm: Slow living with Friends first appeared on Montalut.</p>

Today I took out the raisin bag and went about removing dried stems. There’s something about getting busy with our #hands, touching something that has passed through other hands as well. It’s calming and grounding, like I’m shaking hands with old #wisdom. Tradition. Storebought #raisins never have these stems.

On White Day Sunday, do something traditional, artisanal, handmade. Get rooted and touch something that’s been passed on to you with love and tenderness.

<p>The post Who thought destemming raisins could be so satisfying? 🫐 first appeared on Montalut.</p>

Su: Mom, what does Material Girl mean?

Me: It means you like Material things like this (paper) and this (markers) and this (scissors).

Su: Am I a Material Girl?

Me: Yes, but you also like nature, parks and trees, right? So you’re also a Natural Girl.

Su back to singing:
We are living
in a natural world
and I’m a Natural Girl.

<p>The post I’m A Natural Girl first appeared on Montalut.</p>

On Blue Day, we’re invited to do what nourishes us, mind, body and soul. Having a happy place that brings so much joy is a blessing. Imagine what life would be like if this happy place was home?

<p>The post What makes you smile from ear to ear? first appeared on Montalut.</p>

I’m an ideas person by default, airy and flying from one shiny new thing to the next. Green Day is my polar opposite: staying grounded in the concrete and practical, servicing. In my Sun years (30s) I started feeling an impulse to build a home and more recently, life as a mother, has gotten me embracing green energy more. I like predictable and steady, what parenting circles would call rhythm.

On this Green Day, may you find your bit of nature, calm and balance.

<p>The post Time to touch grass! first appeared on Montalut.</p>

Yellow Day is about creativity, and it comes even in everyday things like adapting a cookie recipe.

Just in case you want to DIY Chewy Chips Ahoy, here’s the recipe (we added 1/3 cup grape molasses).

<p>The post Our first attempt at Mrs. Fields style cookies! first appeared on Montalut.</p>