We spent much of yesterday at the New York State Equal Rights Heritage Center and the Harriet Tubman Home, both in Auburn, NY.

We journeyed through many layers of America’s mixed past: an often brutal, sometimes triumphant, messy mix of shame and victory.

We dug into the history of slavery in the United States, and reflected on how 14 of the 21 “founding fathers” were slaveholders themselves. What does that say about our history as a country? And how does it feel as a descendent of enslaved people to see their faces on the currency in your wallet each and every day?

We explored the steps that led to abolition, and the brutal back-slide our government took with Convict Leasing, which was another iteration of slavery after its abolition at the end of the Civil War.

We dug into Jim Crow Laws, voter disenfranchisement, and gerrymandering which ensured the continuation of whites holding power throughout the 1960s and even through today.

And we explored the history of suffrage, the women’s rights movement, and the many battles for equal rights for BIPOCS and LGBTQ community.

All battles that are ongoing even today.

We were befriended by a bright, fascinating woman named Lois who was also visiting the museums yesterday. A retired physicist and historian, she described her experiences as a Freedom Rider in the 1960’s, registering voters throughout the south.

Listening to her stories, and reflecting on how recent our country’s legacy of slavery and systematic oppression really is, we reflected on how even today people of color navigate a very different world as Americans than whites do.

And we reflected on how very far we have yet to go.

I kept seeing parallels. From convict leasing to the school-to-prison pipeline. From segregation to the longterm impact of redlining. (If you don’t know what redlining is, this video lays it out clearly, and explains the ongoing, snowballing impact. My kids and I have watched it several times.) From women’s rights marches in the 1900’s to the women’s rights marches today.

We keep looping, doubling back. Demanding the same rights, fighting the same fights, walking in the footprints of our mothers, our grandmothers, our great grandmothers.

And I felt more than ever how important it is as people with privilege to have these conversations. With our parents, with our kids, with our friends and our neighbors. To talk about racism, to talk about equality, to talk about what we can each do to make this country a better place for everyone.

Because goodness knows it’s time.

The only way to dismantle oppression is to look it in the eye. To speak up in the face of injustice. To listen with an open heart to what someone else’s experience is.

“Privilege is when you think something is not a problem because it is not a problem for you personally.” 

Want to learn even more? Great! Me, too. Let’s dig in.

The podcast Seeing White is a great place to peel back the layers on America and race. I’m currently listening and it’s perspective shifting.

Author Layla Saad recently published a powerful 28-day challenge that will soon be a book. White Supremacy and Me (afflink) is a must read for white people who are striving to do better and to be a force for positive change in the world.

White Fragility (afflink) is on my book list for this summer. I hope you’ll read it, too.

Yesterday I burned my journals.

Decades of stories that I no longer remember; sadness that I’ve long since healed; struggles I still work to overcome. It felt symbolic, doing this on Mother’s Day. As the pages fluttered in the flames I caught glimpses, memories. And then they were gone.

The grace and acceptance we give our children is a gift we rarely give ourselves. And these were stories I didn’t need to retell. Stories that I’m ready to thank and let go of. They shaped me, but I don’t need to carry their weight any longer. Grace. Acceptance. Release.

I also recycled a beautiful baby book with lovely prompts like “our midwife“; “our homebirth story”; and “family bed”. I had desperately wanted to pour myself into those pages as I had into my teen journals, but never did. And those mostly empty pages left me feeling a twinge of inadequacy every time I saw them for 16 years. Unlike my youthful journals, there wasn’t space on these beautiful pages for my struggles and my grief. For motherhood in all of its complexity. So it was cathartic to finally let it go.

With it went a weight of old ideas of the perfect vision I once held for what motherhood would be. Because in truth, it was harder than anything I’d ever done. Especially those early days! And I didn’t have the capacity to write down milestones when I was simply trying to keep my head above the surface.

Another release. Another long overdue Mother’s Day gift to myself.

The second baby book I released yesterday was empty as well. This one was free of guilt, because after the first I had no false expectations that I’d pen even a word. We added this one to our “cutter bin” for art projects. Transform awaits.

Today, my sense of self is not defined by who I was, or the assumptions and mistakes I’ve made along the way. My quality of motherhood is measured not in my perfection (nor in a predetermined collection of milestones lovingly penned for posterity) but in my unconditional love; in tenderness and laughter; in presence and apologies.

So here’s to embracing our own messy truths, to letting go of what no longer serves us. Here’s to grace and forgiveness and the messy magic of our own imperfections.

Well, hello there!

I’ve been scarce, I know. I haven’t been blogging lately for All of the Reasons, and wanted to reconnect, to say hello.

My excuses for being away are many, primarily my book coming out into the world. It’s been calling on more of my creative energy than I anticipated, as I plan events and promotions and classes, and make sure people are aware that it’s out there in the world. Because it’s the season! Spring and foraging and all things wild and wonderful.

Alongside that, I’m digging in on some big, exciting projects for LüSa Organics–including a menstruation welcome kit for teens/preteens, and some major sustainability efforts that I am absolutely thrilled to breathe into life.

Add to these that I’m in the midst of planning not one, but two epic trips! (A return visit to Maine, mentioned in this post, and another big trip that I’ll tell you more about soon.)

I know. It’s madness.

But of the very best sort.

Life is full, life is rich, and I’m grateful.

You know what else it is? It’s also this fact that my kids are  g r o w i n g  u p.

And I’ve shared that journey with you, before, but really can’t anymore. It’s not my story anymore. You understand. We’ve talked about this before.

Sage turns 17 this summer, and for me at least, I feel like I spend enough time on my laptop as it is, running a business and working on my book and homeschooling. So blogging takes the backseat again. When I do have a moment to sit down, I feel more present for my family with a book or a knitting project in hand then a screen.

I’m guessing you understand that, too.

But the biggest factor in my non-blogging was indeed the lamest of all. It’s even a little embarrassing to admit. You see when I moved my blog to this new platform, it didn’t take me long to learn the ropes. I liked the way the new site functioned, and was rolling with uploading photos and text. But then I accidentally updated the editing software for my blog and it was awful. I had to load photographs one at a time (through some six clicks per image), and it took hours to prepare an ordinary post.

I reverted to the old editor, but it refused to work. So I threw in the towel. I just quit posting.

I know. So lame.

But things have been happening! From fun field trips to big plans, and I’ve been sharing none of it, except slivers here and there on social media.

And then today (on an utter whim) I reached out to my blog host for help with this issue and–lo and behold!–there was a profoundly helpful technician on the other end of the line and they fixed it. They fixed it! I can blog again. (At least when time allows.)

All that to say, hello! I live and breathe. And I’ve missed you.

I’ll see what I can do to get back into the groove a bit, but let’s start with this: a simple, Sunday field trip at sunrise to a beaver pond just up the road.

An adventure for just Lupine and I, mason jars of tulsi tea in hand and possibly still wearing our pajamas, with the sun rising behind the hills. We even saw the beavers, swimming contentedly beneath the water.

Such magic. Such simple, slow magic.

And with that, I’m off once again. But I plan to be back so soon, with more stories and more magic from this scruffy farm in the arms of these lovely hills. Will you join me?

Love,
Rachel