I live on a lovely piece of land that I feel would appreciate far more nurturing from me than I give it. So, as much as I love where I live (and I really do love it), I often feel like a bad parent when I drive down my driveway. Sitting here today, I wonder if I sometimes avoid spending more time in my yard because of the ever present should do list I have for her in mind.
Yes, my yard is a She.
Don’t start.
Anyway, this weekend, one of my Circlesisters and I got together to mark the Autumnal Equinox. Our circles usually involve a fair amount of yakking, noshing, tee drinking, and then some practice together in keeping with the season. So yesterday during the pre-practice noshing and yakking, my Sister and I both acknowledged that we were coming to our Circle feeling somewhat depleted. Both of us have a great deal on our minds and our agendas and feel busy with the day to day of our lives. We, neither of us, felt we had a lot of energy to bring to our practice together. So, we decided to go outside and sit together at the edge of the woods to meditate and pray.
We picked a lovely corner in a northern point in my yard. A lovely white Rose of Sharon blooms there in August. I have always thought that place seemed like a gate to the woods beyond. Rose of Sharon bloomed late this year, just in the last week or so. The gray of the sky and the cool humidity of the day felt restful and hushed. The still green leaves on the trees soothed the eyes and the mind.
We said a few words, lit a candle and some incense, sat and listened. Eyes wise open, I looked into all of that green and felt enormous comfort and welcome. I drank in the quiet and the gentle sounds of life proceeding quiet nicely all around me and remembered my place.
I am a part of the web of life, and it does not revolve around me. In that moment, nothing was required of me and yet I received so much – receive so much- from the life all around me. I felt like a child happily playing in Mama’s back yard, and I remembered the contentment I feel when my child is happily playing in my yard. Mother and daughter nurturing each other, in reciprocal relationship. My co-dependent belief that I must always take care of distracts me from the rich experiencing of this moment on this land, together with all that is. The equinox is about balancing – night and day, light and dark, nurturing and being nurtured.
Yesterday, I offered thanks for being nurtured, hanging out with Mama Mia.
Blessed be.
Monday, September 19, 2011
Friday, September 9, 2011
Here Comes the Sun
I walked outside. My shoulders straightened. My head lifted.
Sun.
It’s yellow, warm, suddenly Summer.
Amazing how 92 straight days of rain (well it feels like 92) can begin to affect how you view your life. I found myself wanting to burn candles and play Christmas music – my sure fire way to keep my spirits up during the darker winter months. As ever, I am awed by the way change comes into the life. All of a sudden, it’s like it’s always been this way.
Rain? What rain? Maybe we should have a picnic.
Once again, life reminds me to open myself to the possibility of the moment – this moment. And then the next. I frequently say that I hate change. Turns out, that’s not precisely true. Not even close.
Here comes the Sun, and I say, I’m alright.
Sun.
It’s yellow, warm, suddenly Summer.
Amazing how 92 straight days of rain (well it feels like 92) can begin to affect how you view your life. I found myself wanting to burn candles and play Christmas music – my sure fire way to keep my spirits up during the darker winter months. As ever, I am awed by the way change comes into the life. All of a sudden, it’s like it’s always been this way.
Rain? What rain? Maybe we should have a picnic.
Once again, life reminds me to open myself to the possibility of the moment – this moment. And then the next. I frequently say that I hate change. Turns out, that’s not precisely true. Not even close.
Here comes the Sun, and I say, I’m alright.
Thursday, September 8, 2011
When Words Get in the Way
For a while now, I have suspected that I am tuned a little differently than most people. The words that get used and the way they resonate with me makes a huge difference in how I feel. I have been accused from time to time by relatives (blood and otherwise) of being over sensitive, thin skinned, and occasionally even, overly suited to theatrical pursuits. Sometimes, I have worried and suffered over what something gets called and what that means. In the context of illness, I am particularly aware that words mean things, imply consequences and possible outcomes that can be hard to live with.
Too often, I find myself ruminating over a particular word or phrase. Tones and attitudes play a part as well. Feelings go with those thoughts – otherness, fear, helplessness, anger, or even shame and humiliation.
“Much too sensitive,” my ever vigilant inner critic offers helpfully in situations such as these. “You need to learn to ignore those feelings – toughen up. Get on with it.”
That’s how She rolls.
Here’s the thing though, my wellness very much includes becoming more in tune with how things affect me, not less. Times when I ignore how I feel often lead to inflammation and illness, I have discovered. Of course, regularly turning off feelings turns out to be bad for lots of us, unless we like addiction, codependency, anger and victimhood. I could go on, but there is no need for me to get militant.
I comfort myself with the thought that words matter, and perhaps I am hearing nuances worth noticing. This is not a wind up to a plea for political correctness. Sometimes a well chosen word or phrase shines a light where I have avoided looking. The clang of a naked truth reverberates and guides me towards good.
It’s in the delivery I guess. I hate the offhand macho attitude that shows up so often in medical settings. Unchecked egos of doctors and nurses combined with disrespected staff persons create an environment that makes us want to apologize for troubling them or become belligerent and uncooperative because they deserve it. I’ll own my part. Seldom am I at my social best when I feel sick or scared. Or both. I’ll wager that I am not alone in this regard.
Still. Most of us feel better when treated with dignity and respect. In my experience, some of it begets more of it, in kind. I heard Oprah say that everyone wants to receive the same message from her when they come on the show:
I see you. I hear you. What you say matters to me.
Let the healing begin.
Too often, I find myself ruminating over a particular word or phrase. Tones and attitudes play a part as well. Feelings go with those thoughts – otherness, fear, helplessness, anger, or even shame and humiliation.
“Much too sensitive,” my ever vigilant inner critic offers helpfully in situations such as these. “You need to learn to ignore those feelings – toughen up. Get on with it.”
That’s how She rolls.
Here’s the thing though, my wellness very much includes becoming more in tune with how things affect me, not less. Times when I ignore how I feel often lead to inflammation and illness, I have discovered. Of course, regularly turning off feelings turns out to be bad for lots of us, unless we like addiction, codependency, anger and victimhood. I could go on, but there is no need for me to get militant.
I comfort myself with the thought that words matter, and perhaps I am hearing nuances worth noticing. This is not a wind up to a plea for political correctness. Sometimes a well chosen word or phrase shines a light where I have avoided looking. The clang of a naked truth reverberates and guides me towards good.
It’s in the delivery I guess. I hate the offhand macho attitude that shows up so often in medical settings. Unchecked egos of doctors and nurses combined with disrespected staff persons create an environment that makes us want to apologize for troubling them or become belligerent and uncooperative because they deserve it. I’ll own my part. Seldom am I at my social best when I feel sick or scared. Or both. I’ll wager that I am not alone in this regard.
Still. Most of us feel better when treated with dignity and respect. In my experience, some of it begets more of it, in kind. I heard Oprah say that everyone wants to receive the same message from her when they come on the show:
I see you. I hear you. What you say matters to me.
Let the healing begin.
Friday, August 26, 2011
Who Can Stop the Rain?
What a strange day this has been. It’s late Summer, and there is still the call to partake of the fruits of the season, the colors of abundance. The kids are going back to school so the vibe of the Fall to get moving, get busy, get organized is here, ready or not. And, in the midst of it – all electronic media today calls us to, simply, fear. We had some early prep in the form of a 5.8 earthquake on Tuesday so we’re already a little strange, now here comes Irene.
Here’s the thing: I don’t want to be afraid. I don’t feel like it. All day, I have had the feeling that I should be doing something, but I can’t imagine what that would be. I’ll bring in my patio plant, stack the chairs under cover this evening – 10 minutes maybe. I filled up my 10 gallon jug of water, but beyond that, WHAT????
The truth is, I do not know what will happen as a result of Irene passing through. I hope nothing too bad. All this free floating anxiety and spin doctoring courtesy of our friends at the power company serves me no useful purpose. I suppose if the power is out for days, they’ll try to say, “You can’t be mad at us. We told you this could happen.” They shouldn’t waste their electronic breaths on me. I will still be mad at them for neglected infrastructure maintenance and improvement, record profits, and now for their fear-mongering PR campaign.
Although I have thoroughly enjoyed this rant and thanks for hanging in with me through it, it has little to do with anything important. I write this today to tell you about the process that preceded me writing. All day, I have felt tired, fuzzy, and unconnected. I didn’t even sleep well last night. I had some stories (and self judgments) about what might be going on with me, but nothing that helped with getting me moving. So I did what I often do when I can’t do anything else – I recreated in reading someone else’s ideas.
Thorne Coyle wrote on her website, “if we don’t meet each day from a pool of silence, we will drown in the noise of our own making. The clamor of the over-culture will hijack our best intentions over and over.” Hmm. I took a few minutes and did some square breathing. What came up as I did the breathing was this slightly below the surface noise about the upcoming hurricane, and the thought that maybe I should be more worried.
I’m worried that I am not more worried. Ladies and gentleman, I would like to introduce senseless suffering, ducca to those of the Buddhist persuasion. I do not have any brilliant answers as to how one should respond to senseless suffering when she finds it. It helped me to recognize and name it for myself. What I did after that was drink some water, look at pictures from our recent day trip to the beach, and sit down to write this blog. In a little while, I will meet with some clients. Blessed be.
Here’s the thing: I don’t want to be afraid. I don’t feel like it. All day, I have had the feeling that I should be doing something, but I can’t imagine what that would be. I’ll bring in my patio plant, stack the chairs under cover this evening – 10 minutes maybe. I filled up my 10 gallon jug of water, but beyond that, WHAT????
The truth is, I do not know what will happen as a result of Irene passing through. I hope nothing too bad. All this free floating anxiety and spin doctoring courtesy of our friends at the power company serves me no useful purpose. I suppose if the power is out for days, they’ll try to say, “You can’t be mad at us. We told you this could happen.” They shouldn’t waste their electronic breaths on me. I will still be mad at them for neglected infrastructure maintenance and improvement, record profits, and now for their fear-mongering PR campaign.
Although I have thoroughly enjoyed this rant and thanks for hanging in with me through it, it has little to do with anything important. I write this today to tell you about the process that preceded me writing. All day, I have felt tired, fuzzy, and unconnected. I didn’t even sleep well last night. I had some stories (and self judgments) about what might be going on with me, but nothing that helped with getting me moving. So I did what I often do when I can’t do anything else – I recreated in reading someone else’s ideas.
Thorne Coyle wrote on her website, “if we don’t meet each day from a pool of silence, we will drown in the noise of our own making. The clamor of the over-culture will hijack our best intentions over and over.” Hmm. I took a few minutes and did some square breathing. What came up as I did the breathing was this slightly below the surface noise about the upcoming hurricane, and the thought that maybe I should be more worried.
I’m worried that I am not more worried. Ladies and gentleman, I would like to introduce senseless suffering, ducca to those of the Buddhist persuasion. I do not have any brilliant answers as to how one should respond to senseless suffering when she finds it. It helped me to recognize and name it for myself. What I did after that was drink some water, look at pictures from our recent day trip to the beach, and sit down to write this blog. In a little while, I will meet with some clients. Blessed be.
Tuesday, August 16, 2011
Being the Change
For a long time, I thought I had the soul of a warrior. My childhood and younger days were all about fighting to defend those who were being picked on, engaging in public debate for social change, getting involved in activist causes. I have been quick to throw myself into the middle of conflicts to try to make things better. It is what I have always felt drawn to do. It’s who I thought I was. I remember a conversation early in my marriage when I shared this opinion of myself, and my husband said, in his rather mild taoist priest-like way, “You know, if you were at heart a warrior, I think you’d be better at it.”
No, I did not pull out my sword at that moment and cut off his head.
He actually had a point, so to speak. Here’s what it was. He told me that although I might win the battle, the cost of the fight for me, emotionally, was rather high, or as he actually put it, “the next day, you shouldn’t be here bleeding all over the floor.”
So to speak.
That conversation changed my life. I have spent the past 15 years learning more about self care and boundaries, balancing passion and restraint, and returning often to the Serenity Prayer. I went back to school. I became a counselor. And, I haven’t had a migraine headache since I was 30. The thing is, I have never lost interest in making things better. I went to social work school for heavens sake! I just haven’t involved myself in politics much in the last several years. ( I have also quickly exited any conversations containing the phrase, “what’s that supposed to mean?” but that’s for another day.)
Well, I’m back in politics. I have involved myself in a fight about zoning in the area where I live. I have been writing, speaking in public, and going to lots of meetings. I’ve recently joined a Board. I was sitting in a County Council meeting last night waiting to testify, reading an article on contemplative education. The term was described as the “marriage of a compassionate heart and a purposeful mind.” It occurred to me that somehow, I have to engage in the political process in a way that feels consistent with what I now know.
Albert Einstein said that “problems can’t be solved by the same level of thinking that created them.” I don’t want to become my enemy. I don’t even want to have an enemy. I really think that we have lost sight of our values in recent times. “Adversarial” is not the environment in which humans do their best work. Competition is not our highest value. Politics should not be played like some extreme sporting event. We may pray for it, but the best man hardly ever wins, and don’t even get me started about how often the best woman . . .
I will meditate today. I will spend some time outside. I will actively do something creative to get my right brain fed and happy, and I will give of myself to someone today. I have learned that my insides need to match my outsides. Today, I will be the change that I wish to see in the world.
No, I did not pull out my sword at that moment and cut off his head.
He actually had a point, so to speak. Here’s what it was. He told me that although I might win the battle, the cost of the fight for me, emotionally, was rather high, or as he actually put it, “the next day, you shouldn’t be here bleeding all over the floor.”
So to speak.
That conversation changed my life. I have spent the past 15 years learning more about self care and boundaries, balancing passion and restraint, and returning often to the Serenity Prayer. I went back to school. I became a counselor. And, I haven’t had a migraine headache since I was 30. The thing is, I have never lost interest in making things better. I went to social work school for heavens sake! I just haven’t involved myself in politics much in the last several years. ( I have also quickly exited any conversations containing the phrase, “what’s that supposed to mean?” but that’s for another day.)
Well, I’m back in politics. I have involved myself in a fight about zoning in the area where I live. I have been writing, speaking in public, and going to lots of meetings. I’ve recently joined a Board. I was sitting in a County Council meeting last night waiting to testify, reading an article on contemplative education. The term was described as the “marriage of a compassionate heart and a purposeful mind.” It occurred to me that somehow, I have to engage in the political process in a way that feels consistent with what I now know.
Albert Einstein said that “problems can’t be solved by the same level of thinking that created them.” I don’t want to become my enemy. I don’t even want to have an enemy. I really think that we have lost sight of our values in recent times. “Adversarial” is not the environment in which humans do their best work. Competition is not our highest value. Politics should not be played like some extreme sporting event. We may pray for it, but the best man hardly ever wins, and don’t even get me started about how often the best woman . . .
I will meditate today. I will spend some time outside. I will actively do something creative to get my right brain fed and happy, and I will give of myself to someone today. I have learned that my insides need to match my outsides. Today, I will be the change that I wish to see in the world.
Friday, August 12, 2011
It's Not Fall Yet
I have had two thoughts I have been carrying around for the last week or so, planning to write them here. As you may know, nothing happened. I don’t know if you’ve been feeling it, but there is an undercurrent of Fall flowing through these days. The kids are getting ready to go back to school. Many of us are returning from vacations. And we’ve had these gorgeous cool mornings. I associate Fall with making lists and getting things done. For those tuned to the agrarian, it’s harvest time. The energy of the harvest is busy. I’ve always liked it.
So early this morning, I sat down to journal with a “let’s get cracking” intention. And . . . I’m just not feeling it. I had a moment of tiny panic, and I could hear my Inner Critic clearing her throat and tuning up for the talking to that was surely “for my own good” – something about my limitations and probably weight loss. I’m just guessing. Anyway, that’s not the story. Here’s what happened after that.
I had the IPOD playing in the kitchen, and I heard the music change mid song to a Sweet Honey In The Rock sacred song. (Earthy and Africa mystical in case you are unfamiliar.) I was aware of my nose being filled with the sweet grass smell I associate with down here. It smells a bit like chamomile and is truly heavenly. A cardinal chirped from the railing across the porch and flew right in front of me into the woods. And my little Rosie popped up at my knee looking for a petting. All of this and a cup of really good hot tea, experienced more or less at once. It was a full, truly beautiful moment.
And I heard in my head, all at once, as though it had already been spoken and I was remembering it, “My child, smell the sweet grass.” It was as if the Earth rose up and to meet me. What began as a thought about limitations became a moment of nourishment and healing, an abundant experience of rightness. I know with certainty that what’s next for me is just around the corner, just not this moment. This moment is for taking it all in and letting myself be filled.
Or, said another way, it’s not Fall yet.
So early this morning, I sat down to journal with a “let’s get cracking” intention. And . . . I’m just not feeling it. I had a moment of tiny panic, and I could hear my Inner Critic clearing her throat and tuning up for the talking to that was surely “for my own good” – something about my limitations and probably weight loss. I’m just guessing. Anyway, that’s not the story. Here’s what happened after that.
I had the IPOD playing in the kitchen, and I heard the music change mid song to a Sweet Honey In The Rock sacred song. (Earthy and Africa mystical in case you are unfamiliar.) I was aware of my nose being filled with the sweet grass smell I associate with down here. It smells a bit like chamomile and is truly heavenly. A cardinal chirped from the railing across the porch and flew right in front of me into the woods. And my little Rosie popped up at my knee looking for a petting. All of this and a cup of really good hot tea, experienced more or less at once. It was a full, truly beautiful moment.
And I heard in my head, all at once, as though it had already been spoken and I was remembering it, “My child, smell the sweet grass.” It was as if the Earth rose up and to meet me. What began as a thought about limitations became a moment of nourishment and healing, an abundant experience of rightness. I know with certainty that what’s next for me is just around the corner, just not this moment. This moment is for taking it all in and letting myself be filled.
Or, said another way, it’s not Fall yet.
Friday, August 5, 2011
On Ripe Peaches and Doing the Right Thing
Sitting here right now, I just want to stop the world and get off for a while. It is so beautiful outside this morning. The temperature is a cool 78 degrees. The sky dazzles me with a low humidity blue, and there is full crape myrtle representation. Everything about this time of year says, “Use your five senses. Take it all in. Winter is coming.”
It is.
But, it’s a work day, and the house is a mess, and I need to work on a presentation I’m giving in the early Fall. The thing is, the peaches will only be available for another couple of weeks.
You know that buzzy, caffeinated feeling you can get in your head – tired and activated all at the same time?
Right.
So I went outside for 15 minutes just now and sat looking at the trees. It’s like they breathe with me. The green is so soothing, and of course it’s not just one green. There are many shades of green among the leaves as they blow in this gorgeous breeze today. Feeling the air on my skin. Breathing in and out. I feel gratitude to get to be doing this right now.
I find I can only sit out there for about 15 minutes, then the day’s work calls me back in. I still have no idea what to do about the ants on the kitchen counter, but I feel a bit differently inside.
Barbara Walters once asked someone if they were a tree, what kind would they be. As I sit here right now breathing in and out with my eyes closed, I can see the green of those leaves behind my eyes.
It is.
But, it’s a work day, and the house is a mess, and I need to work on a presentation I’m giving in the early Fall. The thing is, the peaches will only be available for another couple of weeks.
You know that buzzy, caffeinated feeling you can get in your head – tired and activated all at the same time?
Right.
So I went outside for 15 minutes just now and sat looking at the trees. It’s like they breathe with me. The green is so soothing, and of course it’s not just one green. There are many shades of green among the leaves as they blow in this gorgeous breeze today. Feeling the air on my skin. Breathing in and out. I feel gratitude to get to be doing this right now.
I find I can only sit out there for about 15 minutes, then the day’s work calls me back in. I still have no idea what to do about the ants on the kitchen counter, but I feel a bit differently inside.
Barbara Walters once asked someone if they were a tree, what kind would they be. As I sit here right now breathing in and out with my eyes closed, I can see the green of those leaves behind my eyes.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)