There's nothing like walking through a New York City airport with pieces of your heart falling out of your pockets every time you bend over or turn too fast to make you wonder if Squam can still work its magic on you. Or if you can still work your magic on it.
And there's nothing like losing your voice on the first day to make you wonder if you are truly the best person to lead a workshop called Finding Your Voice.
But so it goes, sometimes.
Luckily, just as speaking softly can prompt others to lean in a little closer, treading squarely inside your own tenderness can encourage others to take your hand and explore some corners and crevices of the heart together.
People talk a lot about Squam magic, and most of us have our own theories about how and why it rocks our worlds so deeply.
But imagine if for four days, people called out very gently, "I think you dropped something--is this little piece of heart on the floor yours?" And the full moon kept you company in your sleepless hours and a real live hammock rocked you like a baby.
Imagine that you let your own dreams slip out in a quiet room or over sunset sand that they were received with careful cupped hands and eyes shining with love.
Imagine being seen and being loved at the same time, and the new futures that would rush up to your feet in that moment like a wave.
I imagine that you might call it magic, too.