I think this film photo from Washington a few months ago is just about the most accurate and perfect portrait representation of my year.

The Road.

One of the foremost loves of my life.

I have been home for two weeks now.

333 days before that were spent largely in my car all across this country.

But now I am back in Virginia, I won’t say for how long, mostly because I don’t know. And though it makes others uncomfortable I’m usually okay with not knowing. It puts me in a place of trust in something (someone) other than myself and I know that’s the best place to be.

I am happy.

To be amongst my people and the other strips of pavement that don’t represent the proverbial “Road” to me, but are open and inviting nonetheless. Familiar in their curves and bumps, they illicit a different type of pleasure. One of anchored contentment, knowing and recognition.

Of home.

Consistency too.

Which has always been one of the two dualities in my makeup.

My love for nesting, being in a space of my own and near my people who I’ve spent a decade or two or (nearly) three doing life with. 

But also my addiction to newness—it is the thing in me that tugs at my center when I’ve been stationary and stagnant too long.

Which I recognize not only as a physical state but a mental one as well.

Most people think this is a thing I will outgrow.

A characteristic of indecision and lack of maturity. Of youthful “wanderlust” and do-it-now-while-you-can. 

I used to believe them.

Used to be ashamed of my insatiable appetite and voracious curiosity. “You’re just restless” people would say. 

“Oh, you’re finding yourself…”

But actually, I’ve known for quite some time who I am. 

I have for most of my life. 

As a child I remember being quite sure of things. Sure of myself. Sure of what I wanted to do. It is only with age that I somehow reverted and lost this confidence. 

Perhaps because there is more at risk. But I don’t even know if I really believe that.

I think we get tricked into thinking there’s more to lose, but really, it’s the same always. We are just more trusting when we are new and resilient to the voices trying to tell us otherwise.

I’m fortunate to have a few people in my life who encouraged and watered the garden of my abnormalities but there is only so much you can do in the way of becoming grounded in yourself with others trying to do all of the work for you. At some point you need to take root in the knowing yourself and do some pruning of your own.

I encountered a great many people this year who thought what I was doing, traveling alone as a woman, quite insane and unsafe.

But I also encountered those who encouraged it.

But neither should matter. Whichever way the scale tips in its outward affirmation of who we are: we know. 

We know because if you pause long enough to listen, you will hear that rhythm inside of you that was created and placed in exactly you and made to push you towards your place of purpose.

I am super excited to announce that my little vintage venture is expanding from Instagram to a full fledged online shop right here on the website!

Mark your calendars for

⋒⋒ This Friday, November 1st ⋒⋒

and keep your eyes peeled on the Folkling instagram for sneak peeks!

There will be some sheepskins, denim, cool mens jackets, special books, pieces from the 1970s (of course), homewares for your space and all kinds of other unique finds from my life on The Road this year!

Check back here on www.agirlnamedleney.com this weekend to get a head start on your Christmas shopping and maybe treat yourself to something special too.

xo

I have been in California for part of August, and while there I picked up a few vintage finds for folkling.

Shooting these pieces while driving up the Pacific Coast Highway was such a fun artistic endeavor for me.

It is combining many of my loves, photography, vintage, travel, all into one.

I appreciate all of you who’ve supported Folkling over the last two years of its existence. It’s a venture that I get so much enjoyment out of and not only something I preach, but practice.
I truly believe in the sustainability and ethical consciousness in buying secondhand first and appreciating that which already exists in the world.
Additionally, you are fueling my life on The Road in more ways than one, and that’s a dream for which I cannot thank you enough.

If you are interested in any of these pieces, shoot me a direct message through the Folkling instagram.
Thank you to everyone who sees value in shopping slow.
xo

I am sitting cross legged on the earthen floor, thick patterned blankets between me and the dirt. It is dark inside the dome, which is made of 16 willow saplings tied together with cloth and string and covered in worn blankets and I am centered on the doorway, a square of piercing light that frames the fire a half dozen yards away where the fire keepers are excavating the lava stones, Grandfather, from the molten embers. 

“Mitakuye Oyasin,”

I am inside of a sweat lodge, the ceremony, Inipi which means “To Live Again” is to purify and place ourselves in a position of openness to send prayers for ourselves and those we love who are suffering.

“Nothing will hurt you here”

Putting this next season of my life into words feels nearly impossible.

I have been dreaming of this exact moment for so long, and to have it here, happening, and in process is the most incredulous thing to me. It truly leaves me in awe and in somewhat of a state of disbelief.

Such is the feeling, perhaps, of realized dreams.

I have been on the road for 7 days. Which is the average length of most of my travels.
The longest I’ve ever been away from Virginia, my home state, was during The Wild + Wonderful American Road Trip this past Summer, which was an adventure lasting 59 days through 30 states.

I have travelled extensively throughout my lifetime, visiting 44 of the 50 states in America and 9 other countries besides. I am so fortunate in that, I realize. But it is my life’s passion. I give up and do without a lot of things so that I can go as much as I do.
(You can read a little bit more about that here in this post if you like)

I have been wanting to do something like this for a number of years.

It has been a little over a year now since I left and moved away from Richmond.
Granted, only to the bay, which is a second home and place of familiarity in and of itself, but it’s the first time I have ever lived anywhere other than in the city I have called home for my entire life.

This is not something I have ever explicitly shared on the internet, and something that many people still don’t really know about me, though here and there over the course of the year it has been implied and referenced in varying ways or conveyed in person to various individuals.

But to spell it out, a year ago I packed up my apartment in The Fan and (after many many trips because I stubbornly refused to rent some sort of Uhaul which made the whole process way harder than it needed to be…) moved to the bay.

The move was made for a number of reasons, and I wasn’t really sure how long I’d be there, but it was mostly an initial attempt at listening to a voice I have had echoing in me for several years that I hadn’t fully listened to until that point.

A voice telling me I needed to go.

I wish I remembered exactly how Jeanie Tomanek’s work came into my life.
I do remember a Winter afternoon in 2015, looking at her Etsy shop and being captivated by the elusive and etherial figures and scenes she depicted in her paintings.
I favorited nearly every single one.
I soon discovered she had an instagram and after following, would regularly click on her account, drawn time and time again to the peaceful and dreamlike imagery that, to me, conveyed this spirit of hope and resilience.

A theme she often focuses on when painting, I later learned after meeting her.

I finally purchased one of her originals, which you can see here, titled Tiny Bit of Faith, which reminded me of the great many leaps of faith I’ve taken in my life, and how each and every time I have always landed after leaping.

A thing you can forget when you are on the precipice or in mid air.

Much like Artists In Film, Spaces In Film is focused around a more intentional and simple documentation of intriguing interiors and favorite vignettes found on the road.

This first space I am sharing with you is The Jupiter Flats, an Air BnB in Joshua Tree California that was a stop during The Wild + Wonderful American Road Trip.

My favorite spaces are the ones that incorporate the outdoors into their functionality and everyday living. They are the ones I find myself happiest in. Closer in routine to that which we came from. A natural invitation to rewild.

We spent the evening unpacking and repacking our bags, playing vinyl records, turning on the twinkle lights, making a batch of margaritas from our earlier-in-the-day purchased roadside tequila, and soaking our clothes and then ourselves in the outdoor tub.

As the day wore out and the stars grew more contrasted as the sun rotated further from our patch of sky, it was apparent that this space was not only a respite for our road weary bodies, but our minds as well. 

Charlie Umhau and i used to be neighbors back when we both lived in Richmond, Virginia. 

it was a while before i realized the jovial wild-haired being, who always greeted me on the sidewalk with a grin and a wave, was the same one on Instagram commenting on and resonating with my wild and creative musings (and here is just one of the many examples of how the internet has brought the most remarkable people into my physical world).

though we really only had the opportunity to become friends and hang out for a short time before he moved to New Orleans, there was an instantaneous connection in our conversations and ways of viewing and loving the world. 

from our common ideas on rewilding, our mutual experience of feeling a little-bit different than everyone else around us, to answering the call of leading and living a life counter to what our society told us to live.

i don't remember the first time i thought about driving across the country. 
there are many dreams that live inside of me that feel like they've just always been there. often i can remember various details and mile stones that attributed to their growth and permanence within me, but i don't always remember their conception. 
the American road trip is one of those kinds of dreams. 

(a related side note: after i wrote this whole post, i vaguely recalled writing about this dream years ago and after searching my archives, came across this from 2013. so, you know, there's at least one recorded mile stone for you.)

i think sometimes there is this unspoken expectation in our society, in regards to our dreams and the things we tell others we want to do. which is that for some reason they require justification by means of history and long-time desire and even a communicated "always" to validate them. i'm not sure why that is really. perhaps the drive to be different and one-of-a-kind and original. we didn't just see someone on instagram do that and now we want to, we are deeper and more thought out and planned than that. we wanted to do that before it was "cool". 

all of that to say, it feels important to communicate the "i've always wanted to do this" tagline not as a way of validating my desire, and elevating it over anyone else's that may be similar, but more so to simply revel in, and celebrate, the finality of finally embarking and choosing action and motion in regards to this long-held dream.
a fact that feels important in more ways than one for me. many of which i am not able, nor will i try, to communicate here. 

he was towheaded, face abloom with freckles that i could see even through my windshield as i pulled onto the street. he was crawling up out of the ditch to the head of a little miniature play car he was driving around the yard.

he couldn't have been more than five. 

as he turned towards the sound of my car, eyes alert and inquisitive, he waved. 
rotating his open palm from the wrist, fingers straight and insistent in their communicated greeting. the learned and carefully practiced wave of adolescence. 
the suddenness of his reaction to greet me was more instantaneous than i expected. it was almost as if there was a familiarity in his turning toward me, as if he knew me and had been expecting my arrival.

i posted this on instagram a few weeks ago, but i wanted to share it here too. so if you’ve already read this post, feel free to scroll on! but i wanted a chance to reach some of you who maybe don't follow me on instagram but do here. because, i have to tell you, sharing this has led to some of the best conversation and thought provoking dialogue with so many unexpected people. 
i am so continually appreciative of the authentic and genuine people who i get to meet and interact and talk with on the internet (and in real life!). it's why i write what i write and share what i share. to foster more meaningful and mindful connections with people.