Hello beautiful souls,
As we approach Samhain, we stand at a threshold between the worlds. We honor the ancestors, those who have crossed over into the realm of the dead. And as the living, I pray we embrace and embody this moment in history, choosing freedom and relational ways of being with one another and the Earth. It is a time of great Mystery and a time to celebrate another turn of the Wheel of the Year. As future ancestors, how are we caring for the generations yet to come?
Here's the next chapter of my Freedom Tour. I'm settling in for a while, building a home at another threshold. This one is of my choosing. I'm no longer leaping or falling, but landing very pointedly on the edge between worlds.
"The wind is talking to me now. Telling me to jump on that next cloud. The truth is not what they told you. No need to hang on. Sit with me and wait for the dawn."
~ Lyric from my unreleased song "Run for the Wild"
Since I took my initial leap and fell forward into paradise, I have been on the edge of my seat, waiting to see what's next. I watch my life like I’m living in a movie: consumed, entertained, excited, and sometimes scared. The fear comes from my thoughts more than anything outside me. I know fear is also part of grief, and that realization has helped me move through it with more grace. Just because we chose something doesn’t mean we don’t grieve what we are leaving behind.
After a month shy of a year without a home of my own, I'm settling into my new hometown of San Ignacio. Eleven months as a digital nomad was plenty for me. I loved my time at my friend's home in the Florida panhandle, and at my mother's and sister's historic little shotgun houses in Louisville, Kentucky. But they weren't mine, and they weren't where I was headed. After exploring Belize earlier in the year, I chose my spot, at least for a while. I figured I could try anything for six months.
My tiny apartment is my mango-colored haven, a bright orange converted house up the hill, surrounded by fruit trees and a short walk from the town center. It was the perfect place to land. Still, I knew I needed to be even closer to raw nature. I wanted to wake up to the wild right outside my door.
When a friend told me about a lot his friend was selling and took me to see it, it fit the vision. It sits on a hilltop overlooking the jungle mountains and the village, and as I stood there, I saw a flock of parrots. A sign. I didn't hesitate much. The land seemed to say, "Come be the keeper of this edge. Sit on this boundary of the wild, on this perch where the jungle can move around beneath you, and live with her respectfully, with all her wild creatures." The ride back to my apartment was a rugged fifteen minutes, and I was already calling it home. My friend who connected me happily became my contractor, and we were off!
The most exciting part was that I knew what I was aiming for, and it was coming in quickly. I've been on a ride since I sold my house and started the Freedom Tour, practicing letting go of control over how everything unfolds. Once again, I find myself running toward the edge of two worlds, the edge of the clearing, the edge between the jungle, the village, and town. My lot sits perched above the Macal River, my next home. The one I will build with lots of help.
As all of this was landing in my lap, my trip to England for the Autumn Equinox was approaching. Several bucket-list items had been hanging out in my field for far too long. One was exploring music sync opportunities, so I signed up for a music sync camp in London. That finally got me to England and to the pilgrimage I'd dreamed of: the Chalice Well, Glastonbury Tor, and the open Equinox ceremony at Stonehenge.
The whole trip was a threshold. I had dreaded the 3D side of the music sync camp, the administrative effort it takes to get music out into the world, but I came away feeling supported and inspired.
The day before the Equinox, my sister and I visited the Chalice Well. My body relaxed. I basked in the energy of the ancient red spring. I felt the Divine Feminine rising from the Earth, her living waters ready to meet the Divine Masculine at the Tor. That afternoon, one of my best friends from Arizona and his partner joined us, and we climbed to the top of the Tor for the sunset.
As if the well and the hilltop weren't enough, we caught a taxi at 4 a.m. to reach Stonehenge for the sunrise ceremony. We rode through the winding countryside, then took the final walk in the dark toward the dawn and those miraculous stones. Sit with me and wait for the dawn. An Equinox never to be forgotten. Back in Belize, my jungle house was underway, and there I was, doing some kind of ancient earthing through my bare feet, a bodily remembering.
I know about thresholds. They ask something of you. Life on the edge is not for the faint of heart. For me, it's the zone of living: not predictable, not always comfortable, but damn sure better than anything I could have manufactured. So I will keep co-creating with the Divine and see if I can let go even more.
Those stones were raised by ancestors who marked the turning points between light and dark, building something that would outlast them. Now I'm building too, on a different edge, in a different wild.
This Samhain, as the veil thins, I'm laying to rest the fear of following my heart and the old belief in scarcity. They served their purpose. They kept me small and safe for a long time, and I'm grateful, and I'm done. I'm honoring my loved ones on the other side: my father, John Walker Longmire, and my dear friends Merrill Farnsworth and John Payne. I feel them walking with me into this new land.
I'm calling in more surrender to the flow. Sitting above the river, the jungle moves beneath me. I watch, listen, and let nature teach me.
Where is your wild edge? What threshold is calling you, and what is it asking of you? You don't have to move to the jungle. Sometimes the edge is a conversation, a creative risk, or a long-held dream finally spoken out loud. Whatever it is, I hope you'll run toward it.
May we honor those who came before us. May we tend the wild for those yet to come. May we be free.
Blessed Be!
With infinite love,
Jenna
