Soulstroller: Experiencing the Weight, Whispers & Wings of the World - Softcover

Hughlett, Kayce Stevens

Softcover

ISBN 10: 1608082016 ISBN 13: 9781608082018

Verlag: BOUTIQUE OF QUALITY BOOKS, 2018

Inhaltsangabe

Seductive, sincere, and at times hysterical and heartbreaking, this memoir follows author and good girl, Kayce Stevens Hughlett out of her carefully constructed comfort zone into the world of international travel, healers, wise winged mentors, and inspiring versions of humankind. SoulStroller introduces a fresh and exciting way of experiencing and living life on one's own terms---expanding readers' world views whether they choose to visit destinations like Paris, Ireland, or Bali, or get to know what home looks like through fresh eyes. Labeled shy and rendered virtually silent by age six, Kayce had been raised to fit the role of perfect wife, doting mom, and accomplished woman. She fulfilled her mission by her mid-forties when society said she had it all. Society was wrong. When her eldest child disappears into the haze of addiction, her perfect world changes faster than you can say, Get it right! Ethereal, gritty, and relatable, SoulStroller is the evolution of a woman too timid to speak her mind into someone who writes her own rules and redefines what it means to live with silence, compassion, and joie de vivre.

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Über die Autorin bzw. den Autor

Kayce Stevens Hughlett is a spiritual guide, artist of being alive, and speaker, whose career began at a multi-national accounting firm. Co-creator of SoulStrolling, Kayce holds a Masters in Counseling Psychology from The Seattle School of Theology and Psychology and is a Certified Martha Beck Life Coach. Kayce is a trained SoulCollage facilitator and colleague of Abbey of the Arts.

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SoulStroller

Experiencing the Weight, Whispers, & Wings of the World

By Kayce Stevens Hughlett

Boutique of Quality Books Publishing Company

Copyright © 2018 Kayce Stevens Hughlett
All rights reserved.

ISBN: 978-1-60808-201-8

Contents

A Note From the Author, 
PART ONE Way Back When, 
1. Life As I Knew It ... Gone, 
2. Follow the Rules, 
3. Beautiful Boy, 
4. Entering the Desert, 
5. Voice, Call, & Kittens, 
6. The Silence of Going Solo, 
PART TWO Illumination in the City of Light, 
7. Paris Perhaps?, 
8. Bienvenue á Paris, 
9. Sustenance & Statues, 
10. Leap Day, 
11. Meeting Tess, 
12. Absorbing Paris, 
13. A Gift Each Day, 
PART THREE Pilgrims, Babes, & Threads, 
14. Irish Whispers, 
15. The Ancestral Mind, 
16. Following Threads, 
17. Darkness of the Night, 
18. Dancing with the Ancestors, 
PART FOUR Wings, Humps, & Hooves, 
19. Standing on Holy Ground, 
20. Seriously? Be?, 
21. Past Horse, Present Bee, 
22. Egypt Reverberations, 
PART FIVE Le Cadeau de Paris (The Gift of Paris), 
23. Seasons & Calling, 
24. Three Aunties & A Rooftop Dancer, 
25. No Proof Required, 
26. Oh My God!, 
27. Jetlag Gyrations, 
PART SIX Lucid Meets Liminal, 
28. This Story Is Not Linear, 
29. Buongiorno, 
30. Old Paint, 
31. Permission & Promise, 
32. Mirror of the Soul, 
PART SEVEN Signs & Souls, 
33. Why Bali?, 
34. The Signs Are Everywhere, 
35. Healing, Balinese-Style, 
36. Rain Dance, 
37. Like a Ton of Bricks, 
38. Generational Healing, 
39. Lonely Liquid Time, 
40. Mile High Prayers, 
PART EIGHT Fini for Now, 
41. Following the Story, 
With Gratitude, 

CHAPTER 1

Life as I knew it ... Gone

"You may not have signed up for a hero's journey, but the second you fell down, got your butt kicked, suffered a disappointment, screwed up, or felt your heart break, it started."

— Brené Brown

Labor Day Weekend, 2003

There is an eeriness in the atmosphere and the sky turns a putrid shade of grayish green moments before a tornado hits. On Labor Day weekend in 2003, the signs of impending doom were less obvious than gray-green skies, but they were there. Deep inside my bones, a niggling unease told me our family walked a fine line between tranquil domesticity and despair. I could feel the twister coming but hoped it would lift back into the sky before striking.

"Who wants to go see Finding Nemo?" I asked. It was Saturday morning. Our family of four sat scattered around the kitchen and dining room eating breakfast and catching up on email and current events. It was rare that we were all awake and in one place at the same time.

"Me! Me! Me!" Ten-year-old Janey bounced up and down. "Can I get popcorn?"

"Sure, honey. Movie sounds good to me." My husband Bill looked up from his Blackberry.

"Do I have to go? Sounds lame," Jonathon groaned over his Cheerios.

"It'll be fun," I urged. "We haven't done anything together in a long time and summer's almost over."

"Yeah. I know. I'd rather go to Bumbershoot with my friends," Jonathon pressed.

"We already had this discussion," Bill replied. "No Bumbershoot. You're too young to go alone."

"Daaad." Jonathon made that phlegm-clearing noise, perfected by teenagers everywhere to show disgust as only they can.

I don't remember the inciting conversation or even if there was one, but on that Saturday evening in early September 2003 after we'd gone as a family to see Finding Nemo at the Bay Theater, Jonathon walked out of the house and didn't come back. Our beautiful boy with my smile and my father's lean build disappeared.

The hours that followed Jonathon's disappearance were a blur. We called every friend we could think of, but he'd jettisoned his old crowd and the new list was elusive. The hours dragged on. We were panicked maniacs, calling anyone we could think of until we finally called 911 and a kind, somewhat patronizing police officer showed up at our front door.

"These things usually resolve themselves quickly," Officer Bounds assured us. I could feel the subtext: Overreacting parents, here we go.

It was odd to see the police woman sitting at our dining room table, poised with her note pad. She reminded me of a young Sharon Gless from Cagney and Lacey — feminine, all business, and dressed in navy blue chinos and a white button-up shirt. "Any friend's house he might be at?" "We've tried them all," Bill answered.

"Okay. What was he wearing when he left?" The questions were incessant, but they felt like our only lifeline to getting Jonathon back. "Eye color? Hair length? Hair color? Height? Weight? Any distinguishing marks?" We answered as best we could.

"All right, Mr. and Mrs. Hughlett. Since he's only fourteen, we can put out a missing person/runaway report and keep an eye out for him. Please let us know if you hear anything."

She left her card on the table along with a copy of the incident report.

"Is Jonathon coming back?" Janey peeked around the staircase where she'd been hovering.

"Of course he is, honey," I assured her with a confidence I didn't feel.

Officer Bounds walked out the front door and moments later Bill headed out the back to begin a late-night driving vigil. It was futile, but necessary. We had to do something. I stayed home with Janey and tried to get some sleep, but mainly I stared at the coved bedroom ceiling. Bill came home around 2:30 a.m., and the two of us tossed and turned together. Our silence was heavy with thoughts of the direst kind. He's gone. Dead. In a ditch somewhere. Kidnapped. Stabbed. Shot. Lost. Scared. Alone. There was nothing we could do or say to comfort each other. Exhaustion finally won and we nodded off, only to awaken at daybreak overcome by a sense of guilt that we could sleep while our son was missing.

After a full weekend of hide and seek between Jonathon and us, the pièce de résistance came when Bill called from Harborview Medical Center.

"Um, honey, um ... I don't know how to say this ..." His voice creaked on the line like a garbled recording. "They've done a blood draw and an intake screening for drugs." He paused and I heard him sob. "The nurse says he needs in-patient treatment now." That sentence stretched out over thirty seconds or more.

I could hear my husband talking through the phone line, but his words weren't connecting with my brain.

"Wha-what?" I gasped, breath vacating my lungs and threatening to never return. A mass settled inside my throat while I struggled to inhale. Twilight filtered in through the windows of the living room where I stood. Photos of Bill, Jonathon, Janey, and me smiled down from every angle. I pushed the phone away from my ear as if it were a venomous snake. My arms felt like twenty-pound weights were tied to each wrist, and my legs gave way as though someone had kicked me behind the knees. Curry, our golden retriever, circled me on the Oriental rug, panting in confusion.

Our beautiful, boundary-pushing Jonathon was fourteen years old — full of life, full of confusion, and apparently full of drugs.

Time stopped until anger took hold. How could this be? What the fuck? No! No! No! It's got to be a mistake! I was furious. Terrified. Lost. Searching. Grasping for answers. How did this happen? Why couldn't I protect him? How could...

Details zur Ausgabe

• Verlag: BOUTIQUE OF QUALITY BOOKS
• Erscheinungsdatum: 2018
• Sprache: Englisch
• ISBN 10: 1608082016
• ISBN 13: 9781608082018
• Einband: Taschenbuch
• Anzahl der Seiten: 350
• Kontakt zum Hersteller: Nicht verfügbar
• Verantwortliche Person: Buchpark GmbH; gpsr@buchpark.de; ; Krügerweg 1; Trebbin; Brandenburg; 14959; Deutschland