The Post Party Blues

When dreams come true but leave you wanting

I’m sitting on the floor by our bed, a steaming cup of chai in hand, sweetened with a generous glop of maple syrup. My Dad is in the other room playing with nearly 10-month-old Jasper, whose favorite game right now is knocking things over. Anything, everything. We say “boom!” as he smashes and crashes, giggling loudly until he can hardly breathe, gummy smile shining brighter than a million suns.

I have a load of laundry tumbling musically in the dryer downstairs, humming just low enough that I can hear it in the room below, drifting up through the pine floorboards. My favorite red wool sweater has made its way off the hanger and now rests on my chilly and slightly dry skin. I keep lathering tallow balm on my fingers and lips, hoping to ward off the cracked fingertips of last year’s winter (farmer hands are real, turns out). Despite the blistered lips from strong winds, these chilly mornings are a welcome shock. Tennessee stayed hot and sweaty for far too long. Only a week or so ago did I tuck my shorts away and dare to wear a jacket for morning chores.

Jasper is in a phase where he wants me to be with him for the entirety of his naps during the day, which lends itself to some pretty solid quiet time for self-reflection. As he is curled up in my arms, lips pouted just so, dreaming peacefully, I let the noise of the day rise within me until it sorts itself out and settles into some semblance of clarity. I pray, I ponder, I question, I reflect. Often, some gorgeous gems of love find their way into my palms, and I have treasure in my pocket for the rest of the day, carrying me through any busyness or stress that may arise.

Last weekend was a milestone for us here on the ranch. We threw a launch party for our business, Lumen Ranch. Our hardworking team of two (my husband Sage and yours truly) have turned this raw land into a home, a farm, and now a short-term rental business within two and a half years.

Since I was young, I have had a penchant for party throwing. Birthdays, Friday night dinners, Easter feasts, you name it. If no one else is hosting for a Holiday, I will open the doors and throw a nice shin-dig. I like to welcome people into our home, light the candles, eat some yummy food, and sink into good conversation. Naturally, when the idea of a launch party for our business found its way into my brain, I jumped at the idea. Let’s celebrate! Let’s commemorate all this hard work, and gosh, don’t we deserve a little fun after the blood, sweat, and tears? (Unfortunately, not really exaggerating here… more to come in a future post.)

I made a Google Doc and jumped right into action (in between chasing a crawling baby and being blessedly nap-trapped), coordinating vendors, creating merch, and dreaming up unique ways to spread the word about our new venture. Our invite list grew, and the shift from simply hosting friends at my house to hosting potential spokespeople for our business got real, real fast. I spent years in New York attending influencer events, being the person the brand was trying to entice to share online. I was wined and dined and acutely aware of the depth (or lack thereof) on the brand’s side. Was I a commodity to be traded or a person? In certain instances, it became clear I was just a commodity that could push the needle in the direction of profit. It was often disheartening and quickly left a poor taste in my mouth for surface-level interaction. I now found myself on the opposite side, planning a party and inviting creators with influence in our niche - I certainly didn’t want anything to feel shallow or transactional. I wanted everyone who arrived to feel welcomed into the family, like they could stay awhile and feel comfortable enough to kick their shoes off.

My brain went into overdrive picturing every detail. This would go here, that would go there. We are quaint, but gosh, do we have breathtaking land. We are definitely a small business, but goodness, do I want to leave a lasting impression. Never mind the fact that there was only Sage and me available to physically set up this whole fiesta! The reality of 75 people invited to celebrate got overwhelming fast, and we soon called in backup - Sage’s mom flew out to help, and so did my Dad. We hired an event coordinator, and I paid my neighbor’s sweet Granddaughter, Mattie, to help me with my laundry list of random tasks.

The setup started a week beforehand; we learned from the ghosts of parties past not to leave anything until the last minute. Pumpkins and Adirondack chairs were sourced from our nearby Amish community. 15 pumpkins of all sorts of shapes, colors, and sizes were secured for a steal of only $21. I laid them out one by one while a precious girl of not more than 5 years old trailed behind me, calculating my haul on a notepad. We borrowed string lights and a fancy quiet generator from our friends who just had a wedding, and rented some wine barrels from a local shop. Sage went across the street and borrowed a round bale from our neighbors to complete the hay bale stack that would hold our brand sign. Said brand sign was made by a very thoughtful Etsy seller. Our friend Hannah did our autumn floral arrangements for free, and another talented friend Laila took photos as a trade for a cabin stay. A local musical duo fell into my lap after a brief search, and they filled the night air with joyful fiddle playing and soulful country twang. We sipped natural wines and enjoyed a truly delicious farm-to-table feast made by my Instagram friend and chef, Kristin! It all came together beautifully.

All I knew for sure about the evening was that I wanted to share our story, to get on the mic and introduce us as the real live humans that we are. Why we feel so strongly about sharing this land - why we believe it’s a truly healing place. It’s more than cabins, it’s a vision of refuge, restoration, and regeneration for weary and heartbroken souls. Those who have been in the thick of it, for whatever reason. Those who need a breath of fresh air and a quiet night sky to think under.

I shared a bit of our story, the loss, the hardship, the mission. It seems like that open-hearted sharing took the party from a la-la, fun social event to a meaningful invitation to friendship. I was told it was well received, and after friends new and old went down the road home, I slammed into the pillow and thought... “What just happened?”

I felt naked. Vulnerable.

Like a bit of my heart that had been private and just mine was now stitched on the sleeves of others. It was not the internal reaction I had expected, truthfully. I expected a sense of relief and accomplishment, but was left only with a louder voice speaking to me, saying quite clearly: “Rohini, what are you really meant to do here?”

To sum up the vision for this land in a tiny square on a glowing box feels impossible! To convey the depth of feeling I’ve experienced walking the forest of our land, the way God has touched me in my grief… how on earth do I share that coherently in bite-sized tidbits? It’s ineffable! These things of the heart are so big and don’t seem to translate easily to social media.

It seems that I am being invited to walk with people again.

In person. Retreats. Groups. Sharing. Healing. The land is meant for the deep language of the heart - I think the party helped put that into perspective. I want everyone who arrives here to know they have a seat at my table, not because of a metric on Instagram or a perceived exchange of value. Because they exist, a completely and wondrously unique one of one creation. I want to hear their stories over candlelight and leave ample time for hugs and tears.

I feel grateful for the buzz and exposure the party brought our little business; it’s led to new bookings, inquiry messages, and a remarkable amount of earnest support. I feel grateful for the many helping hands who made it happen, and the milestone itself, as my dear friend put it:

“Sometimes you just have to plant your flag in the ground and celebrate.”

Is what I’m feeling the post-party blues? Perhaps. The comedown after the high of hosting.

And/or I’m learning in real time how necessary depth is for me. I’m learning to listen to the call that says “there’s more here.” I’m learning that it’s hard to celebrate when it feels like the work has just begun. I’m just learning a lot, always, always, always. I’m learning to dance with all the past versions of myself. A soupy, delicious, and spice-filled medley of all that I’ve been and all that I’ve tasted. An over-achiever cheerleader, wild child party girl, glamorous influencer, young wife, new-age spiritual seeker, grieving poet, new mom, milkmaid... and above and through it all - lover lover lover of God.

Everything else seems to fall away except that.

I have a unique opportunity to tell a tale... yes, with beautiful tablescapes and parties under the night sky, and also, I pray, with an unspoken truth that settles far beyond what the eye can see.

~

Thanks for reading

Your friend,

Ro