Building a Mystery

May 19, 2015 by

Clear away expectations, and let yourself picture a wild, grand new world. ~ Martha Beck


Caroline W Casey quote


I am sitting on my own in the gathering twilight. The jungle of the day is winding down, the jungle of the night is waking up. I was listening to a recorded call by Martha Beck and Boyd Varty, and they were talking about truth. They were talking about the importance of gathering and deep work and play and something bigger and deeper than magic. They were talking about connection.

They were speaking my language.

And in that way that the universe plays with us, as the talk finished, my shuffle went to Sarah McLachlan singing Building a Mystery.

That’s how I feel right now. Like I have been given a sacred gift: the gift of being able to build my life from the ground up. But it is currently a mystery.

And I don’t know what to do with it. 

Martha and Boyd talked about not knowing where they were going, but knowing that they were going to be prepared to ‘move at dawn.’ To follow where the path leads.

Part of me would give anything for a crystal ball; for a way to see that we are going to be okay. But then it wouldn’t be a leap of faith. Part of me would like to be in total control and to have things work out exactly the way I want them to. But I know that would be an unnecessarily limited future as I can’t dream big enough for myself.

Caroline Casey, in Making the Gods Work for You, writes about playing with the universe and actively working with the magic and the stories and the stars. In the quote above she talks about conjuring the most beautiful and loving world, but it’s about collaboration with, not dominance over. It’s about moving forward and having faith and doing what you can to align with creation. It’s about listening. It’s about letting go. As I typed that, Sarah McLachlan (another song – Full of Grace – on shuffle, and I haven’t heard her on shuffle for years) sang ‘letting go’ exactly as I typed it.


I’ll say it again: it’s about letting go.

It’s dark now, under the new moon. We are so deep in the jungle that the only light I can see is from a few scattered fireflies and a single light up on the ridge above us where the driveway onto our farm meets the dirt road. It’s a different world already, and it feels like anything is possible.

So right now I am asking for help. I am asking for a miracle. I am asking for transformational abundance. I am asking that together we conjure the most beautiful, loving world possible. And as always, I am asking for magic.

And now? I am letting it go.

Building a mystery is going to be so much fun.

I know it. 😉






Tumbled down the rabbit hole. Not sure I’ll be back. love, me.

May 18, 2015 by

‘It was much pleasanter at home,’ thought poor Alice, ‘when one wasn’t always growing larger and smaller, and being ordered about by mice and rabbits. I almost wish I hadn’t gone down that rabbit-hole — and yet — and yet — it’s rather curious, you know, this sort of life! I do wonder what can have happened to me! When I used to read fairy-tales, I fancied that kind of thing never happened, and now here I am in the middle of one! There ought to be a book written about me, that there ought! And when I grow up, I’ll write one.’ ~ Lewis Carroll, Alice in Wonderland


dominical meghan gengeWe’ve now been on this adventure for nearly three months. Although it had been coming for a lot longer, I am choosing to start the clock on the first day that we really stepped into the unknown; the first day we began to run on faith.

We often play the game, ‘What do you miss?’ And what always comes up – besides the people – are things that are comfortable, convenient, or easy.  As Alice said, it was pleasanter at home. But as pleasant as pleasant is, pleasant is something that just doesn’t stack up against our current state of life immersion. And this is not about being in Costa Rica. This is about listening to and then following our hearts. Taking a chance. Choosing the path that is the most full of life and knowing that one way or the other, it will all be good.

We have well and truly tumbled down the Dominical sarongs meghan gengerabbit hole. We have left the safe, the known, the pleasant, all because we followed a holy yes down the hole. Everything is topsy-turvy. Up is down, left is right. Everything is heat and colour and vibrancy and ripe, dazzling life. All of this could be (and is at times) really frightening, but there in the colourful unknown there is also magic, whimsy, enchantment, people, delight, stories, and – most importantly – faith.

Following your holy yes will not always be easy, but it will always lead to something amazing.

You just have to have faith.






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Lost & Found: One Spiritual Practice

Apr 27, 2015 by

The soul can’t be explained or understood. Is it, after all, your divine Self, and divinity is wild, untamable – more vast and magnificent than our minds can grasp. Whatever idea or image you hold in your mind of the soul or the Divine is by definition too small. That’s why we feel so compelled to explore these fields of the soul. We long for the mystery. – Janet Conner


Meghan Genge writingThere were always all of these wonderful things I was going to do once I had time. I was going to walk more, and do more yoga, and meditate more, and eat better. I was going to do all of those things because somehow I thought that they would make me more spiritual. They would bring me closer to the Divine, to God, to that best part of me who was nice and made really good decisions and had a great attitude most of the time.

Insert giggle/snort here.

Turns out that when I packed for Costa Rica, I packed myself. I packed the me who gets grumpy, and wants to eat Nutella more than she wants carrots, and the me who has a lot of yoga to do before yoga makes her feel blissful (right now it makes me feel angry), and who is a little afraid of walking because walking is a bit scary. There are things lurking under the fallen leaves both in reality and in my imagination that want to nibble on me.

So until a few days ago I was getting really frustrated. I was wasting time. I hadn’t landed in Costa Rica and then morphed instantly into a glorious Blue Morpho. I was getting grumpier by the day, reading in great gulping novel-sized afternoons, and wishing that I could somehow be different.

And then it happened.

I got up on Friday morning, picked up my pen and a battered notebook, and I started to write. And within one sentence, I remembered: Writing is my spiritual practice. 

My simple connection had gotten lost in the sparkle on my Instagram feed, the gloss on my Pinterest pages, the bendy-holiness on Facebook, and my need to be different than I am. Yes, I will continue to meditate and do yoga – movement and stillness are as important to my growth as words – but for me, my doorway to that connection and my worship happens on the page.

When I arrive at the page, say a prayer, and pick up my pen, I slip easily into a conversation with my Soul, with The Mystery, with God, with whatever you think It is. And it is a conversation that is most definitely two-sided. We contemplate. We argue. We breathe. We bend. We talk. And I come out the other side different. Connected. Motivated. Altered. Writing doesn’t magically make me a shinier, nicer, better behaved version of myself, but instead I emerge a more grounded, honest, clear one. I’m the me that remembers that she is deeply, truly connected, so all of the rest of that ‘stuff’ can be seen with perspective and a lighter heart.

It’s magic. It’s a miracle.

How could I have forgotten? I was so busy comparing myself to other people’s spirituality, that I forgot about my own.

And so I will return to the page again and again, because writing is my practice.

It’s my holy.

It’s home.




When you finally decide to change your life, you’d better mean it.

Apr 15, 2015 by

“Embrace those parts of yourself that you’ve skilfully avoided until now. That’s your true adventure.”
― Gina Greenlee, Postcards and Pearls: Life Lessons from Solo Moments on the Road


mouse windowRight now, in front of me, I can see two Cinnamon Hummingbirds, a male Cherie’s Tanager (also a bird), two enormous Turkey Vultures, and the noisiest House Wren ever. We’ve also seen a Brown Basilisk (iguana), and lots of other small lizards, birds that might either be Toucans or Aracaris (they move too quickly to make a positive identification), and a White-Headed Parrot happily having his breakfast.

There are also dozens of beautiful butterflies and moths, and I am becoming very good at rescuing day-flying Green Urania moths from our enclosed porch. I’ve managed to get to a place where I can calm myself enough enough to get them to sit on my fingers so I can take them to the window. I love watching them go free.

I know what all of these things are because we have a book and a pair of binoculars and I am my father’s daughter. I also know what they are because they have a) kept a respectable distance and/or b) they are not scary.

We also now know what a 2m Bird Eating Snake looks like close up, and that the Spiny Pocket Mouse can climb up a rope bannister, leap off of tall buildings in a single bound, enjoys hammocks regardless of their occupants, and will climb a window screen to try to get out of a room (see photo above).

And don’t even get me started on the ants. In our bed.

When we decided to move to Costa Rica, one of the things we bought was a book on the wildlife. It all seemed rather foreign and wonderful from a distance, kind-of like the country itself. But when foreign becomes your day-to-day experience, things change. I’ve done it before – moving from Canada to the UK – but in many ways, that was a different sort of foreign.

When you decide to change your life, you have to mean it. You have to go all in. If you go in half-way, or go in not knowing if it’s something you really want, or if you are running away from something, then the dream can become lost when the little things seem hard.

In the UK and in Canada, a mouse in the house would simply mean buying a trap and getting on with things. Here, it meant trying to reason with my hysterical mind while wielding a dustpan and helping my husband try to chase it out of the open front door in the middle of the night. The same woman who two hours earlier was happily freeing butterflies, was nearly in tears saying, “I can’t do this.” But the thing about emigrating is that in time (hopefully) a mouse in the house will just be a mouse.

Perspective. Timing. Fatigue levels. It all adds up. Every problem is as big as you allow it to be.

We’ve chosen this life. All of it. And for every 91 degree day, there’s body surfing in the sea. For every loss of comfort, there is the most delicious avocado ever (and I do mean ever). For every Spiny Pocket Mouse, there is a Blue Morpho.

Just like being in love, changing your life requires daily decisions. And maintaining perspective.

And hopefully, eventually, I will even be okay with the ants.





Celebrating the scrambled eggs

Apr 3, 2015 by

“So, that happened.”Sas Petherick after our first retreat


IMG_0239Yesterday on a Spreecast chat with two gorgeous women, I described my mental state as ‘scrambled eggs.’ I’m up, I’m down. I have moments of total clarity about what we want to do, closely followed by moments of whatthehellarewedoing!? I’m distracted by my need to take in the incredible thriving, fragrant, bustling ecosystem I am currently smack-dab in the middle of, my need to be getting on with The Move, the need to do yoga, make money, do the laundry, and, and, and, oh, and rest.

Yes, rest is the thing I am supposed to be doing right now. That was the plan.

The two beautiful women shook their heads and reminded me of The Huge Thing we have just done. That was really helpful, because in some ways, I had forgotten. I have moved on to the next thing.

In fact, every day, in every way, we are all doing Huge Things. For some it is huge to just get out of bed. For others it is dealing with illness, dealing with overwhelm, dealing with comparison, with guilt, with parenting, with ageing, with loving or hating or moving or changing or staying or lying or telling the truth or just choosing love over and over and over again, no matter how hard it gets.

I firmly believe that there is no sliding scale of bigness on the stuff we do. It’s all huge, and it is all relative. This being human thing is hard work, no matter where you are and what you do. And we hardly ever pause long enough to see that. There are no mini dance parties to celebrate our victory, or champagne corks popped on a seemingly ordinary Thursday afternoon. We save the special bottle for a more special occasion. We don’t celebrate because we are too busy moving on to the next thing.

So after the conversation was over, I got really quiet and looked out at the jungle. And took my first really deep breath.

So that happened.

We did that.

And we’re doing this.

It’s all good, and my eggs feel a lot less scrambled – maybe closer to poached.







Do you want to be part of a warm and open-hearted community of women, gathered around a virtual hearth fire? Would you like to join those women for discussion about spirituality, questions, self-care and magic?

Do you crave open, honest conversation about spirituality?

Then we would love it if you would join Sas Petherick and I for Heart and Hearth.