She comes first to my feet, and when she touches them, there is a spark of energy. She responds by saying, “Wow, you really do fly.” She has no idea how meaningful this statement is to me.

I identify as a flyer.

On my adventures to Antarctica, this last January, I took along with me one small library book that had been stowed in my carry-on by my husband, Adam. It was a short story collection from Urusla K. Le Guin, called Changing Planes. My favorite entry was a story called, “The Flyers of Gy”.

This story is about a species of humanoids, some of whom develop wings during adolescents. The essence of the parable is that there are those who were born to fly, those who desire to fly but don’t, and those who would never desire to fly. The essence is that there are those who are born with wings, and those who aren’t; among those who aren’t, there may be those who are jealous of the flyers, but this isn’t really covered as much as those who used to fly, but have lost the ability to. The sudden death on the wing by wing failure is a major point: everyone who flies knows that at any point, their lives will likely come to a sudden end because of their need to fly…but they continue to fly. There is no predicting wing failure. The constant fear is overruled by the sensation of flying, the need to fly, the imperative of it.

I’ve been a flyer my whole adult life. I can’t stop myself, even when I have tried. It is inauthentic to who I am and what makes me whole.

Flyers are a lot of things. They can inspire others to want to fly. They can intimidate those who can’t imagine flying like that. They can be judged for not having their feet on the ground. They can wear themselves out with the constant flapping of wings. The destination not yet reached. They take lovers on the fly. They have trust to leave their babes in the safety of others. Flight comes with great rewards, & also great risks, but the risks for a flyer not flying are far worse than those of flying.

Flyers are free in a way that can’t be found when grounded.

She works her way through my body, one quadrant at a time.

Each section of my body feels like it corresponds to an aspect of my life that needs to be worked through. To release the tension and energy that no longer serve me, making space for new energy to abound.

My children come up first. My desire to spend quality time with them. I release any remaining fragments of a desire for another child. I realize that I don’t need to have maternity leave to give myself permission to take time with our boys. If I desire more connection with other children, I have the ability to do this in forms other than having another child myself.

This leads to my sexual awakening. Feeling that now is the time for me to explore my desires and seek pleasure in ways I haven’t even yet considered. There is a desire to set myself free in ways I have yet to know. To form meaningful connections and explore what does it for me, inspiring others to fulfill themselves on a deeper level.

She moves down to my hip, and senses my identical twin sister attached there. I feel her physically being released as she pulls my hip up to the side. I reflect that it is no surprise that this is my favorite sleeping and cuddle position.

As if for the first time, I recognize and accept my unique balance of feminine and masculine energies. The drive in me that has always been determined to work hard and be the provider. The sensual and stylish side of myself, that rejected being a tom boy. I couldn’t be a tom boy if I also liked wearing dresses. Reflecting on the reaction when the softness of me comes as surprise, as if my softness is hidden in plain sight. We discuss the fluidity of gender in my family, and I express my gratitude at the acceptance there is of a wide variety of sexual and gender dimensions that exist among us.

Pride to Fly

For myself, this is a self-acceptance of myself being both polyamorous and bi-sexual. It has been a journey of self-discovery, shame, holding back, and now releasing of myself in a new form. Last year when I saw a friend post something about being bi-sexual, I reached out to share my admiration of her as a role model, since this wasn’t something I had earlier in my life. I wondered then how long it would take me to come out in pride myself. It feels both scary as fuck, and liberating to be open about who I truly am.

As we work through our session, I move into work mode. Dumping out everything that has been on my mind over the last period. Recalling past realizations that haven’t yet been acted on fully. Knowing that my path is to transition to the role of Owner and to expand our team to grow and sustain itself to meet the long term goals and purpose that I had when I founded Sweet Haven just over four years ago.

Then came my offering to go to a Prayer Dance, a ceremony that Cindy will be a leader of, and will be held later this week in Wisconsin at Potter’s Farm. They are cow bones, given to me by my lover, as a symbol of love for my boys. They are passed on with the intention of serving as an inspiration and role model to my boys and the children in my life.

As she comes to a close, and returns to my feet, she closes by saying, “& now you can go back to flying”. There are no mistakes. She knows what she is doing. I never mention to her the meaning of identifying as a flyer, but I don’t have to, she already clearly sees me for who I am.

I am free to fly.

Cindy Carlton is a licensed massage therapist and energy worker. She facilitates healing people’s bodies with lightness and joy, so they can feel grounded, energetic, and strong. The experience I have shared here was a combined session of energy and body work. You can book a session at her healing space, located in downtown Vancouver, WA. Cindy can also be followed on social media @facilitatedhealth.

“Every woman that finally figured out her worth, has picked up her suitcases of pride and boarded a flight to freedom, which landed in the valley of change.”

― Shannon L. Alder

My journey has taken the shape of a nomadic businesswoman and philanthropist.

It has been quite a journey. I would like to share it with you.

I’m watching the sun begin to set, at 10pm, from Ushuaia, Argentina.

This trip came about over the last six months, and 28 years.

As a young nomadic traveler, a Rotary Youth Exchange Student to Finland at age 16, I felt the tug of nomadic life.

I considered what I wanted to look back on my life and achieve and fulfill. I determined that I wanted travel to at least one country per year, and to live on six continents and at least travel to Antarctica. I gave myself the arbitrary deadline of 50, considering that be then I should have the capacity to achieve such a goal, and waiting on a journey to the poles doesn’t get any easier.

Let me provide the backdrop to how I my progressive leaps of faith brought me here.

Growing my businesses & living my dreams led me to the edge of the earth.

Forming the Pearl of Life

It takes time for the shape and form of a pearl to grow into itself, and each their own.

Six months ago I celebrated the longest days of the summer, not knowing yet that they would not actually be my longest days of the year.

I was grateful and excited to experience a massive rebound in demand for our vacation rentals, pent up desires of humanity to connect and get away. The last couple of years have been a roller coast covid ride. We now live in the Olivia Beach community of Lincoln City, Oregon, & own and operate Sweet Haven, a boutique vacation rental agency.

Ten years ago we built twin cabins in Olivia Beach, my identical twin sister & I, that is. We dreamt up the cabins in the wake of our father Wally’s death, another dream that was informed by my lakeside experience of Finland. It is most certainly what Wally Would Have Wanted.

Four years ago we spent Christmas, pregnant in Paradise, California and New Year’s at my twin-in-law’s wedding, while taking every spare moment I had to work on our business, and build the foundation for launching Sweet Haven. My wingman and husband, Adam, & I had spent the prior three years, with increasingly frequent trips to the coast, and living as Airbnb and start-up vagabonds while we ran and built our businesses on the road.

It has been a very long four years. It feels like a mini lifetime, or a full one, if you ask our youngest, Ellis.

Building businesses and raising a family, in the midst of a global pandemic, it isn’t for the faint of heart.

When covid hit, we were already adept at working alongside our family life and work, though we had been on the road in one manner or another for the prior four years. It was like grounding a flock of starlings.

We were thrown into the deep end of covid, from an economic perspective. We were as generous as we could be with refunds, returning over $100k to guests disappointed to be cancelling their Olivia Beach vacations. It was exhausting hours of thankless and profitless work.

The financial and psychological apocalypse of covid was very, very real, topped off by the turmoil of the Echo Mountain forced fire evacuation line a mile away, and yet we thrived through it. By buckling down and doing whatever it took, we were there at every hour to serve our guests and our community. We supported and held our team together. In a mere year, we had gone from the worst off I had ever been financially, to the triple our prior year. We’ve had a record breaking year for revenue for our homeowners and team. It took steadfast endurance, determination and stamina to achieve that.

It took cleaning toilets and covering for our team to allow them much needed time off. Creating covid protocols and practices. Filing in the gaps. Responding to guests and homeowners at all hours. Maintenance. Jacuzzis. Systems development. Managing money. Pricing. Responding to community needs.

It was – is – the time to further build our Sweet Haven team.

Gaining from my experience of abundance and gratitude, I knew I needed to take leaps of faith to allow this process to evolve. First, I needed to consider what our life would look like with a team supporting me to not have to be on call 24/7. Adam and I have done a miraculous job managing the abundant needs of our growing enterprise, but there are human limits.

I had just booked our November family trip to Kauai, on an early May morning, when I needed something to look forward to. I also knew that the first step was putting something out there in time and space to force reality to meld itself into the opportunity for our family to step away from work for the first time in years. I would have to find a way to support that into existence. It was my first time off call for any extended period in 7 years, and prior to that I worked a career across numerous time zones and worked 16 hour days for more than a decade. With a full time career as a humanitarian, landlord to three properties, and building a blogging empire simultaneously.

As was the case when I first learned to dive in Zanzibar, I was / am in great need for some serious self-care.

When I considered what I love most, diving came to my top of mind. I was quick to jump to curiosity about possible volunteer diver needs there might be at the Oregon Coast Aquarium. I reached out and learned more about what it would take to engage with the program. There was an upcoming volunteer info session in August.

We then took the plunge, and hired our first two office side team members, while promoting and evolving our existing team.

I also booked a Manifestation Retreat with my couch, Lia Dunlap in mid August. It would be a mini test run to put down my alerts and get clear on my path forward. To pamper myself and be reminded of who I am and where I’m going. To appreciate life at a new elevation. To be reminded of the vibrational energy that we share.

Becoming an Aquarist

The experience of becoming an aquarist has been one of continuous leaps of faith, while simultaneously quelling the voice of doubt and discomfort.

On the eve of the retreat, our family visited the Oregon Coast Aquarium for an initial informational session. They outlined the conditions that were necessary to certify as an aquarist, a term I learned means one who dives in and cares for an aquarium.

I took in the information excitedly and considered how I would be able to fit in the time to meet the requirements. They had certifications offered in October and January. I was already certified as an Advanced Diver, so I needed 15 cold water dives to qualify for certification.

On a spontaneous seven-mile Lincoln City beaches family Sunday walk, we chatted about how I could start to get in a dive trip to qualify for diving in cold water. Before I knew it, Adam had managed to surprise book me for a long weekend in Hoodsport, WA for mid-September. I was impressed with the incredible underwater world that existed in a water way I had passed periodically for two decades, tall fluffy anemones in sherbet and cream shades that bely the Pacific Northwest surrounds. It was an experience unlike Zanzibar, Kenya, and The Philippines, and equally as liberating for a nomad’s heart.

It occurred to me how diving was the perfect cure for needing to be off call. Truly unreachable.

We managed to get in my medical qualification and insurance just in the nick of time for the fall training session in Eugene, with Eugene Skin Divers.

My cohort of 8 divers and four trainers spent back to back weekends doing pool diving in Eugene, a just around the Bend Sunday road trip, and then practical hands-on training and safety certification in the aquarium tanks at the Oregon Coast Aquarium.

On the Saturday night of training, a handful of divers and trainers met for dinner and a beverage at Rogue Brewery.

My nomadic ears perked like those of an adventurist, at the mention of Antarctica.

Adam looked at me and knew. It was meant to be. It was my final continent. A lifetime dream.

One of my trainer’s upcoming trips was to dive in Antarctica. She was looking for a cabin mate. We looked it up immediately and virtually booked on the spot. It would take an additional 30 dry suit dives, or another 15 days of diving. I plotted out possible dives and calculated that with our previously scheduled family trip to Kauai in November, that I would be able to pull it off by diving more than weekly for the rest of the year.

I took in a massive gulp of air, and knew it was my time to take my next leap of faith.

As luck would have it, one of the leaders names is Faith. She also hails from the town I was born in, and met my husband in. A very small world indeed.

Fast forward six months, and I’m welcoming the morning light on the far edge of the earth, with the Sweet Haven team supporting our homes and guest needs for our homeowners and community.

I’m ready to dive to depths I’ve yet to experience.

Miel

Ushuaia, Argentina

Today would have been my father Wally’s 74th birthday. It has been just over a decade of mourning his death. Too soon to have lost a father and friend.

I can’t help but reflect on all that has happened that I missed out in sharing with him. My stories would have been told, over a pint, to anyone who would listen at Sam Bond’s or High Street. He made me larger than life. He was my biggest fan, my most avid reader, and always encouraged me to do and be more.

He was delighted to vicariously travel through my adventures, inspired in part by his early adventures in Latin America, and also reminded me of my grounding along the way. He warned me to be cautious of my voice, when I wrote my post called “They Hate Us“, back in 2008, pointing out how badly we had failed the people of Afghanistan. Thirteen years later, it seems my predictions held true. He was also right to have worried for my safety.

He was very proud of my work in the DR Congo, intrigued by my love of Africa. My post on my up close experience with conflict minerals inspired him to respond, with this advice, which I found eerily after his death:

I highly recommend against snorting or injecting any of the conflict minerals. Just a hunch.

Wally Jones

In his passing, the ladies of his life coined the phrase, What Would Wally Want, or What Wally Would Want?, depending if it was a statement or a question. There is no doubt that Wally would have been rearing for a party this year. December 7th was always an excuse for a mid-winter party. He threw epically fun parties.

In lieu of a party this year, my biggest fan now – my husband, Adam – surprised me by sending over my tribute song, Dancing at a Funeral

I listened to a slightly slower acoustic version of this, practically on a loop, to grieve his passing. I see that the video below happens to be 10 days after we learned of his passing.

In tribute, we enjoyed kefir and croissants. That was a traditional breakfast of choice at The 5th Street market, though ours were always day old. It is the taste of my childhood, and will always remind me of Wally.

Dancing at a funeral would definitely have been Wally’s style. I recall learning about the concept of a Wake at The Wow Hall, during the time he was dating Mountain Girl, Gerry Garcias wife. I recall being intrigued at the concept of celebrating life rather than grieving it, though that didn’t make the grieving process any easier, it seems.

The Blue Pearl

In honor of the spirit of Wally, today I purchased a collector’s art piece, The Blue Pearl, from the most recent art gallery show at the Lincoln City Cultural Center, from an exhibit aptly called – The Traveler, by John Oberdorf

It was a serendipitous purchase, grabbing the piece as it was being wrapped up to leave, and giving us the opportunity to meet the artist, who of course reminded me greatly of Wally. For some reason when I first fell in love with the piece, I had an intuition that he would.

We are delighted to have the art, and connect with John as a person, planning to take him out to lunch. In our correspondence with him today, Adam shared that it was priceless that every time I see the painting, with him in vicinity, I spontaneously reached out to hug or kiss him. As he said, “Priceless”.

John’s response shows why I am attracted to his art. He shared, “When we talk about all that is behind this and the path that I have found myself on, you will gain insight into this way of bringing ideas into physical reality.” He also shared a Rousseau quote that echos back to my journey as well.

“I am not made like anyone I know. If I am not better, at least I am different.“

Rousseau

Miel

Here is a fun video from the Lincoln City Cultural Center about the exhibit. Go inside John Oberdorf’s The Traveler art exhibit with Krista Eddy, Visual Arts Director

https://fb.watch/9M2r2HdKbZ/

The source that makes me uniquely Miel. What a gift we give ourselves in being real. The universe expands upon itself to reward us.

Real

Inspiring

Generous

I am grateful to take the time to invest in myself to share more of it. I am aware of how hesitant I have been to share my authentic self, without fear of being too much, wanting too much, taking on too much.

The stories we tell ourselves are the truest reality there is, even if it is always perceived.

The feeling of being connected to your source is the juiciest energy there is. Lusciously dangerous.

Like the genie can’t go back into the bottle, the nomad is never out of this world. We are everywhere at once, with time collapsing on itself. It was a lie that it was ever linear. Another story we tell ourselves. A fiction to make it easier to walk away. To not give into temptation to live our dreams.

Here is to authentic living, and sharing the journey along the way!

Miel

You will be the one who loves you the most.

It’s akin to the adage “wherever you go, there you are.” We are responsible for our own love and lives. What we think about, we bring about. 

Sometimes you need to buy yourself tulips and scratch your own itch. 

I condone solo travel and taking your own route. 

I encourage listening to music that makes your heart sing and connecting with others around you.

I definitely fell for your passion and your commitment to life. You got me says it all. You had me wondering if you could be the one. I tried to play it cool. So cool that it took a working hike to pique your interest and wonder if it could be so.

I love you so truly and deeply. It feels like a fresh breath. I smile on a summer day.

I love that we can connect about so much in life. We really take it to another level. Something I didn’t really think was feasible. I feel so fortunate to share so much in common that we are passionate about and enjoy doing together.

You make my heart skip a beat

The way you take my hand like that

It’s everything that I’ve been dreaming of

We make life an adventure. Every single day. Never a dull moment around here.

You take me just the way I am.

You got me.

Little spoon

I’ve returned to the most glorious of falls. I think we all secretly don’t want to say anything about how incredible the weather is for fear of seeing autumn fleet any faster.

The majority of our belongings are on a truck

The majority of our belongings are on a truck, I believe in rural Maryland, at the moment. Our place in DC finally has another contract in place, after the first one fell through at the last hour. Our place in Portland is a dream of a place and is now suddenly contingent on me getting my dream job, ironic as that is. We initially thought it could be done without this, and now alas it is the final piece of the puzzle. Fingers crossed. It is a great fit.

Hopefully in another 10 days we’ll be settling into our new home and all will be ironed out in the process. It feels that everything is going our way, so it only feels right. Wish me luck.

How Time Flies

In the mean time I’m enjoying a little R&R at my folk’s place in Southern Oregon. Giving me breaks for extra child care assistance. Excellent.

Clark is growing like a weed and getting taller all the time. He just outgrew his Mr. Amazing outfit in a couple of weeks flat. They were too big in New Orleans and high water pants by the time we arrived in Oregon. My how time flies.

So glad to be back and looking forward to being settled once again, into our new place.

Cheers,

Miel

It was a lovely evening and a true reminder of how much my life has changed in the past couple of years. The decade I spent living in Washington was punctuated with sometimes frequent get togetherness with ladies, whether it be brunch, lunch, or an occasional night out.

We joked about being “ladies that lunch”, but I realize now that we blissfully were. I enjoyed it immensely. I like the ritual of getting together with someone for a good meal or a coffee. It feels good. We need to find ways to connect and share.

Though I often demonstrated some kind of restraint, I was used to spending what I would consider to be a fair amount of money eating out. I remember realizing that I would often spend as much as my entire family would eating out in the 80s. Times have changed, and the dollar doesn’t go as far as it did back in rural Oregon, but it still feels helpful to keep such comparisons in mind.

Right now I am settling into fall in Oregon, celebrating our first year back in Oregon, and our first several months as a new family together.

The scenery changes, but the hustle remains constant. No matter where you are at in life, there is some kind of hustle going on to make it all happen. It takes both effort and letting go to release your expectations and surpass your dreams. My to do list remains full, and yet manageable at the same time. There is both balance and hustle. Sometimes leaning more in one direction than another.

I marvel at how much my life has changed in a mere year. I’ve settled so well into a whole new way of life. I absolutely love our home in Portland, Oregon, and am more in love each day with Adam. Above all, Clark is simply a delightful baby. He keeps us smiling and laughing all day long.

I’ve been reflecting on our trip to Ghana. I’m absolutely remiss that I haven’t blogged fully on Ghana. I have a list of no less than a dozen posts that I plan to share. All the while, all of the pictures on my camera are held up first by loosing the battery as soon as we returned from Ghana. Fast forward a bit, and then I leave the camera (sans battery) at my identical twin sister’s place in Astoria. Alas I still don’t have photos to share.

I’ve been contemplating how best to create a way to regularly go back to Ghana and continue to reconnect and give back in a place that I know so well and could do significant good.

I met up with Peter Okantey, a former Pearl Rotarian who now lives in Ghana with his family and is starting up the Palm Institute of Strategic Leadership.

Peter and I met for the first time last spring, since Peter is now living full time in Ghana, with trips back to the states to fundraise and see family. We met at Caffe Destino, a local Portland coffeeshop around the corner from our place, where a nice cup of decaf will set you back $2. We spoke about me planning to go back to Ghana after so many years. It feels incredible to be on this side of my first return trip back and congratulate myself for making it happen.