With a baby on the way, my husband and I moved to California two weeks ago to be closer to friends and family for support. While folks from the Methow Valley in Washington are posting photos of beloved snowy adventures, we are looking for jobs and a place to live seven months pregnant while crashing with friends in sunny SoCal. (Psssh, no big). 😉
This was my last contribution as the weekly Mazama Valley Life Columnist for The Methow Valley News. Two weeks into our new adventure, revisiting this column was a reminder to continue to trust and embrace the adventure before us. The column was originally published in The Methow Valley News October 18, 2017.
It was 2013 and I had just moved back to Los Angeles. I had been there about a month, interviewing for various General Manager positions with a recruiter. Sitting in traffic for an hour and a half on the 405, contemplating the very last of my savings, however, I kept turning down work as none of these positions felt right. Truthfully, I didn’t want to be a General Manager. I wanted to make a living but I also wanted a life.
I went for a walk that night to let go of my fear, listening to a lecture on manifestation, being in gratitude for the deep pinks that burst out of the Pasadena shrubs, the orange trees and sounds of the breeze— my friend’s family that was letting me stay in their guesthouse. I had nothing but I had so much to be grateful for.
When I returned home there was an email from my aunt: “Why move back to Los Angeles when you can move to the middle of nowhere and be a baker?”
Yes, yes, yes… My heart raced when I read those words. This is everything I want. I had just moved back to the city, but in a month’s time here I was already disappointing 100 friends, borrowing $500 from my sister to drive two days to get to this mysterious and thrilling place called ‘Mazama’ for a summer job. What most would call irresponsible is just how this seeker rolls. I trust my intuition. I follow the signs and listen to my guides. I am always where I am supposed to be.
I’ve been a contemplative person my whole life and I’ve always sought the spiritual, but to sum up my time here feels overwhelming. It would require a novel and seven years of hindsight. What I can say around 500 words, is that when I think of the past four and a half years— everything I didn’t know, who I was and who I would become, the word that resonates is ‘Gratitude.’ My heart runneth over with this word.
Thank you mountains for grounding me with your omnipotence, majestic size and beauty. Thank you rivers for your crisp, cool water whose constant, clear movement reminds of my own cleansing and renewal. Thank you light for the way you come through my windows, waking me with warmth and giving me hope for each day.
Thank you trees for your roots that plunge deep and powerfully through the earth reminding me of your wisdom that lasts longer than the span of my meager life. Thank you blue skies for reminding me of goodness, the air in my lungs as life and the reminder that this world we’ve been given is a gift. Thank you quiet of the woods for being the most amazing friend— allowing me to hear my thoughts clearly and for making my prayers easily accessible to God.
Thank you for helping me become a woman that would take a chance on unexpected love— marrying some weirdo with different colored eyes and crazy hair. Thank you for teaching me that the impossible is possible, buying my first house and with my honey, making it a home. Thank you for bringing me teachers that would train and guide my creativity into delicious treats and weekly columns. Thank you for the courage to start a family. And thank you readers, for allowing me to share my journey with you.
I knew with everything in me I was supposed to move to Mazama. It is with this same knowing that we say goodbye. I have no idea what the future holds in the mountains of California— without jobs, without a place to live, not much saved and a baby on the way. But if I’ve learned anything, it is that we are always taken care of beyond our greatest expectations. I’ve learned that God laughs at our plans anyway and, instead, gives us what we need. I’ve learned that change can be a huge catalyst for incredible adventure and transformation. If it has been anything like the past four and a half years? With a grateful heart and running eyes, I say ‘Bring it on…’
Thank you, Methow Valley. You all have been the most amazing gift. We love you and will miss you all!
https://mandicrocker.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/11/10514241_10152553409548855_3606660108597432620_o-2.jpg9601280mandi/wp-content/uploads/2016/11/logo-site-hearts.pngmandi2017-11-11 22:13:252017-11-11 22:34:19The Final Column