Protect the Whimsy

On the power of feminine wonder

There is a whimsy in women. Those little things we do that stop the clock. Dancing with our eyes closed. Humming to a song only we can hear. Stopping mid-stride because a blue dragonfly just landed on this branch and isn’t he marvelous?

The whimsy undoes those knots in your chest. The emails are forgotten. Your burdens cannot find you, because you’ve pulled back the veil of the ordinary world. It feels like a spell, but it’s not. It is a woman reminding herself, reminding the world yes, build, build, build. But first, look at this dragonfly!

Whimsy is the threshold of love.

The first evening of El Camino de Santiago was the hottest. Balmy, unforgiving sun that didn’t set until 10PM. After the most delicious ice-cold shower of my life, I plopped onto my bed that made a squeaky sigh of exhaustion with me.

We were told to pack the essentials, most of us deeming that a toothbrush and a few pairs of shorts.

But my roommate, Kim, unzipped her pack and pulled out oracle cards and carefully selected flower oils. The wonder in her eyes was infectious. She hopped on my bed, and we pulled cards, rubbed Jasmine oil on our wrists, and suddenly I wasn’t in a random hostel—I was home.

Every woman has her own whimsy. On the trail, Kim had her oils and cards. Rae braided flowers into her hair. Mary-Grace brought mermaid stickers with her and passed them around during our writing workshops. I always keep a candle with me.

Wonder and whimsy are not luxuries, they are not accessories—they are the very thing we build for. The antidote to overstimulation, numbness, and a hyper-productive culture that has forgotten how revolutionary it is to notice a dragonfly.

When we are exhausted, whimsy is the first to go, but it restores our spirit and we care for our people better because of it. The right patch of sun or bed of moss, a cold river, all of these things help us shake off the world and return home.

Xx,

Your Friendly Neighborhood Scribe