Bali blessed *

I've been home over a week now and I am still unpacking the many treasures I brought home from Bali (a patchwork-batik and multi-colored tassel explosion!) 

this is a shop, NOT my closet ... yet ...

While I did my fair share to support the Balinese economy, the more precious of gifts rest securely within the confines of my battered yet robustly beating heart. The price of these treasures cannot be measured in rupiah (undoubtedly the currency does not go that high; one million rupiah equals about 74 US dollars) but instead is relative to a willingness to open oneself up, trust, and receive.

But before I could receive all that was offered, a healthy spate of shedding and cleansing was required.

I'll try to explain. (in my round about way, of course!)

Taking in the signs (and that is what I do ... seek out the cosmic breadcrumb trail for confirmation and comfort) the first thing that strikes me is how on the flight over, water was a dominant force. I mean, a typhoon rearranged our schedule! Once we were finally on the plane, I discovered my water bottle had leaked all over the contents of my carry-on bag. Soaking up the bulk of the water was the current edition of Taproot Magazine which includes an article by Em and Nicole about Nofel, the Blue Man of Ubud who would be sharing with our group the technique of indigo dyeing. Not a big deal, but I was thinking about my pristine collection of previous editions back home and moping a bit over my destroyed copy.

Of course, included in the pile of welcome goodies from Em and Nicole was a fresh and unblemished copy of the same magazine!

Okay, so that may be a minor co-incidence. But wait, there's more! (A common refrain while shopping in Ubud ... note to self: always take time out from shopping with a lovely four dollar half hour foot massage, complete with jasmine tea. Totally civilized and proper way to treat oneself, never mind my feet which trod barefoot across both holy and common ground.) 

Can I talk about snakes? No, not the metaphoric trouser snake (although penii bottle openers are plentiful in the market place ... this is a country that worships Shiva and his lingam alongside the less threatening Ganesha) 

so everyday I sat on my porch taking in this view and I swear it wasn't until the last morning that I noticed THIS

I mean honest-to-goodness slithering and totemic snakes ... snake who represents the shedding of a skin (of self) that has grown uncomfortable and restrictive ... snake who can only move forward (or sideways) but never backwards ... snake who apparently slipped into the water at Tirta Empul, a sacred holy springs consisting of two large pools and 12 decorative spouts (or more? I couldn't keep count and I find conflicting information online) where we joined a crowd of both Balinese and foreign worshipers moving from sprout to spout immersing ourselves in the cleansing and restorative water. 

Tirta Empul - image from online source

This was our final day (post-retreat). We had hired a car and driver for a half day's tour of nearby temple complexes when Surinder, the owner of Gajah Biru Bungalows (the Blue Elephant where we stayed our last two nights in Ubud) told we simply must end our Bali experience with a dip in the holy waters. This was to be my third water-cleansing/blessing while in Bali (aha! The magic of threes ... Brahma, Vishnu and Shiva ... third time's the charge and more) and just to make sure I hadn't missed the point, something (a carp fish?) bit my toe - twice! -  before I exited the final pool.  

There is standing under a gushing spray of water, reciting prayers or mantras and then there is the experience of many such blasts of water and a tossing aside of any mental activity and just going for it. Hands together in front of the heart in anjali mudra (symbolizing union of body, mind and spirit) and bowing down under the gushing stream over and over and over again. Midway through, my mind emptied I began to place my hands on either side of the spout and lean into it, allowing the water to crash against my heart. My hands shifting to padma or lotus mudra, representing the blossoming or opening of the heart. 

It is exhausting work, this spiritual stuff. There is no thinking, just submitting and receiving.  Climbing into the second pool for the final array of spouts, I was startled by something brushing up against me. I then realized there were fish in this pool! A foreign tourist laughed at me. I gestured to her it was big! What I did not know was minutes later Alison, just a few spouts ahead of me, would watch a snake slither past the heaps of offerings on the stone mantel above and slip into the pool. While I love knowing the snake was there, another wink by the Universe in my mind, I know in reality if I had seen it I would have undone any sacredness to the atmosphere with my shrieks. 

The fish bites were reminder enough to WAKE UP and PAY ATTENTION. 

As I said, this was my third water cleansing while in Bali.  The first was a visit to a local healer arranged by Nicole for our free day during the retreat. I had no idea what to expect. I was told he would inspect my skin with a magnifying glass, so I was a bit concern about what he might uncover. Kristina, my traveling partner, went first so I had time to sit in the garden courtyard waiting area.  A total delight for the senses as fountains burbled, twinkle lights flickered, outside scooter sounds were muffled by the wall and fragrant incense burned all around me. 

for sound effects, click HERE

 Oh, and the entire place was painted in pastel shades of pink, green, and yellow.  

When it was my turn, I made my way to a small room at the back of the courtyard. I was told to stand facing Agus, the healer, and to close my eyes. He sat for awhile and I could hear him softly speaking. Whether he was chanting mantras, prayers, or thinking out loud, I do not know. But the effect was strangely soothing. I found myself slowly beginning to sway and spiral, like a human pendulum. I wasn't sure if my body was doing this to keep me from keeling over, or if it was the result of the healer working on me. Finally, he stood up and proceeded to press upon my head, then rather forcefully sweep his fingers across my brow bone. It was as if he was pressing out the heavy gunk inside my mind. He used the magnifying glass to inspect my arms and hands and then gently pressed upon my back and my belly before finishing up with my legs and feet.  All the while he was chanting or praying and periodically writing upon my forehead with his fingers. 

And with that, his examination was complete. He then began to tell me what my various body parts revealed. From my hair, he said he could tell I was an honest person. My eyes told him I want to help others. He continued describing and explaining to me aspects of my personality and life that were very accurate. A few surprising and interesting ideas about myself that made total sense.  He told me my mind is very strong ... but that this is also my challenge, that I need to learn to clean and clear my mind. He gave me a simple exercise to do everyday.

What was odd - or unexpected - was not what he told me, but my reaction to him. I found myself saying over and over "I believe you." It wasn't that he told me any new, so much as I found myself accepting those parts of myself rather than resisting or believing I need to change. It is like pulling off a the shelf a book you've had for years but never could seem to read. Then one day you open it up and wonder why you haven't read it before because it is exactly what you've needed to hear.

He asked me if I had any important questions. I asked about Cowgirl and he gave me the most practical parenting advice and again, it just made total sense. Perhaps all the mantras made me ripe to accept what I've needed to know?

I then asked about my mother, specifically how I could move on with her gone. At this point I broke down in tears. Calmly, he explained that I should pray to my mother and that way rather than crying, I would be in a new relationship with her. Again, I found myself marveling at the simplicity and yet profound nature of his advice. 

When we were finally finished, Agus led me outside the room where Kristina joined us. We three held hands and carrying incense, made a circuit around and around his courtyard garden.

All of the following images with Agus were taken by his wife and courtesy of Kristina Wingeier

He completed the ceremony with a final cleansing and blessing by water and handful upon handful of flower petals showered upon us.

The final day of our Soulful Escape to Bali retreat included another water blessing. Our group traveled to a sacred springs which Em and Nicole asked that we keep private in order to protect the site as it is primarily visited by locals and not tourists. We had to descend the deepest of steps down down down to reach it.

We were wearing sarongs and it was, per usual, hot and humid. We arrived at a series of three springs - again, sacred the sacred triad of Brahma, Vishnu and Shiva -  where we were instructed by Nicole's friend on the proper way to begin. Cleansing the face, sipping the water, then splashing water over our heads. Three times, of course.  

 

Then down down down even further to a little temple where we were to make our prayers. We each were given a basket - canang sari -  and some incense to leave as our offering. I thought about what it is I wanted to pray for. I realized, I already knew. Just as it was with Agus, my truth is crystal clear and the path simple: I am here to let go of my mother. When she was dying, I was focused upon letting her know it was okay for her to go. What I hadn't realized or accepted was that I was the one still holding on. 

Suddenly, the whole pilgrimage sense to the trip clicked. On the flight over Kristina and I  both watched the movie The Darjeeling Limited and I was reminded of what the eldest brother, Francis, had shared with his brothers at the beginning of their trip:

I want us to make this trip a spiritual journey where each of us seek the unknown, and we learn about it. Can we agree to that? 

I want us to be completely open and say yes to everything even if it's shocking and painful. Can we agree to that?"  

I was here in Bali to release my mother, to let her spirit move on. I was here to find my way forward. I was here to say yes and trust whatever arrived or arose.

I prayed to my mother. I let her know it was okay for her to move on. That I too would move on. I thanked her and I asked that I might find a new source of connection, nurturance and support. And being the doubtful Thomas that I am, I slipped into my prayer a request for a sign that all was okay with my mother. Nothing big, just a little wink or nudge, if that was okay.

After our prayers we went to a changing area to put on our bathers under our sarongs. Down a few slick rocks there was a small pool of water and two waterfalls cascading down over a rocky wall. We were instructed to lean face forward into the first fall, then lay back into the second. 

The sound of the rushing water filled the entire area. In my nervousness, I propelled myself too quickly into the first waterfall and bashed my forehead against the rocks. For a moment I was certain I would be bloody and bruised over my third eye point. I then remembered to relax into the experience and receive. At the second fall (I wasn't bleeding) I lay back and again, felt my entire being releasing and resting in the cool and refreshing water.  I felt myself opening up. I felt myself being filled. I felt the grief of the previous year washing away and in its place, a sense of connection and belonging more expansive than anything I have known through human relationships pooled into and completed me. 

Exiting the falls, I fell into Kristina's arms and cried like I hadn't cried since my mother died. The sound of my sobs was absorbed into the sound of the rushing water and with that, I felt complete.

We sat in prayer for a few minutes more and then our group began the uphill return. A few of us were straggling behind when suddenly a group of Balinese people in matching white t-shirts decorated with a red lipstick print and what turned out to be the name of the man celebrating his birthday, came barreling down into the previously quiet space. The jovial birthday boy greeted us with gusto outdone only by his mother or granny who laughed and kissed and mugged in turn which each member of our remaining group. Until she got to me. 

She immediately shifted from wacky to quiet and serious. She took both my hands and closed her eyes and just held me in a space of immense calm and presence.  She didn't say a word, she just held my hands. The moment passed quickly - the birthday boy grabbed her by her braid and playfully pulled her away. She let me go and returned to her wacky, lovely self. Kristina turned to me and said "You two just had a moment."   

Yes, and initially I thought I had missed it! I was too shocked to really "feel" anything, but in a way beneath language or knowing, I felt that she was tapping into something or reading me in a way that was both immensely personal and also comforting. I sensed that she knew what was happening for me ... that she was the "sign" that I had asked for ... that she was affirming the importance of this experience and the importance of this release and new space I was entering in my life. 

It has been exactly one year since my mother left her body. One year since she let go. On this anniversary I followed Agus's advice and offered up nine sticks of black incense (a fragrant lotus blend purchased in Ubud) to honor my mother's life (the past) and to honor her spirit (the present and future). 

Afterward, I spent some time praying to my mother, then drumming for her but really for me. I am slowly slipping back into my non-Bali life. Or more accurately, my life now infused by the magic, the beauty and the deep sense of reverence and gratitude which Bali evokes for me. I feel lighter, more present, more spacious and open to what each day brings. I am mindful to stay in touch - through my practice -  with the lessons Bali has gifted me; each day watering them, and myself in the process.

Oh ... a little endnote: my first day back to running, I came across a small snake dead by the side of the road. It was curved into the shape of the lemniscate or the symbol for infinity. I carefully carried it to a spot underneath a nearby rose bush and covered it with dried leaves, adding a single rose on top of the tiny burial mound. I took a moment to offer thanks for this message and then I prayed that it may have had an easeful passage. I wished that it may have always known it was held in absolute love and care and that it move into its next incarnation free and unhindered.

And so may we all. 

I hope you will bear with me as I have more I would like to share from my Bali adventure. I believe one last post is in order; I promise, a more classic travelog heavy on the lush images, light on soul-excavation. 
 

the moments in between ...

Years ago a friend said to me: I jump from this and that when what I really want to know are the moments in between.

Indeed. I know all too well the sensation of being a frog, leaping from one lily pad to another.  I am aware of skipping those liminal moments ... I am becoming aware of what it is I am avoiding by my compulsive busyness.

I am avoiding the discomfort of this moment of stillness and quiet.  While I have craved such, to be in it is hugely disorienting.  I am aware of the sound of the clothes tumbling in the dryer, the hum of the refrigerator, the steady rhythm of my dog breathing as he sleeps by my feet.  I am aware of the glow of the kitchen light, harsh in contrast to the darkness outside.  The false brightness emphasizing the gloominess of the weather and the dimness within me.  

I am aware of the compulsion to be doing something.  The other inhabitants of my home are out in the world and engaged in their tasks while I sit here ... doing what?  Abiding?  Waiting?  

Paying attention.  Trying to grab hold of what constantly slides through my fingers, aware of a shadow at the edges of my consciousness.  I envy my dog his lack of anxiety over what he does or doesn't do.  He simply is.  

I am aware of my defensiveness regarding my day.  The Husband comes home and in a spirit of genuine interest and curiosity asks me, "What did you do today?"  I snidely reply "I sat around eating bon-bons."  I am aware of feeling guilty if I cannot account for myself, my actions, my productivity. But I know too well that busyness and doing does not equal living nor does it make for a satisfying life.

I have joined with the participants in The Gift of Practice in experimenting with a new practice.  I took the advice of David Whyte and am taking the step that scares me, the one I've resisted for much of my life.  I am sitting every day and spending a minimum of 5  minutes watching my breath.  I am not doing, striving, perfecting ... I am attempting to simply be.  Sit. Breathe. Be.

In the process, I am watching the cloaks and hats and labels I've dressed myself in, peeling away one by one.  The longer I sit, the more layers I discover.  Perhaps one day I will come to the end and discover what I've been seeking my whole life: to truly know myself. Just me. Simple, plain, perfect in my imperfections.  Sitting snugly, comfortably within myself. 

If Life is a gift ... and truly, I believe it is such ... then each of us is a parcel of wonder, a treasure to be shared and enjoyed.  I want to sit in that space in between the scattered wrapping paper, torn off bows, savoring the moment of receiving. 

Time to turn off, stop typing and start being ...  

transitions

While I was away on vacation, others back home were moving through their own changes and transitions ...

Only one week had passed, but I left my baby-girl and came home to this young colt of a girl child

 

Such wonderful support and words for my last post ... truly, it helps to be witnessed and to have one's experience affirmed and supported.  To know that many of you understand the discomfort of transitions and the confusion of re-entry is healing balm to my soul.

I've often joked after any retreat "re-entry will be hard."  It isn't a joke, although it helps me to stay light about my experience or rather be light and gentle with myself.

The oracle card I drew upon return speaks about tender buds, new growth and the importance of gentle but persistent care and attention to the needs of new life.  (And now I laugh realizing moving statues and outside signs of support and encouragement are always around me - it is just remembering to expand my understanding of the ways the Universe chooses to communicate with me.)

I remembered a story I once heard told by Marisa Haedike's husband Sean Hogan, an alumni of The Groundlings Improv School which really captures the truth of what I am experiencing right now. Unfortunately, the link for the podcast is gone, so my attempt to convey the story will be somewhat diluted.

The story was about the experience of hanging out in that space of not-knowing which Sean referred to (or as I remember it) "the gray space."  It is that threshold space of leaving something behind but awaiting insight to know what the next move should be.  It is about surrendering the need for total control and understanding and opening oneself up to instinct or intuition.  The example Sean uses is an exercise from improv class where the group stands in a circle and one person is handed an imaginary ball of clay.  They are to mold and play with this lump of clay until a form presents itself to them.  In other words, they are not to impose their idea upon the clay, but are to engage with the material and the act of molding until inspiration or insight presents them with a form.

Sean talked about how it is obvious when a person is engaged in the process, and it is obvious when another person begins to worry that they are taking too long with the exercise and rush themselves rather than allowing the "solution" to organically present itself.  The lesson is an awareness of our ability to stay in that awkward and often uncomfortable space of not-knowing, of waiting, the gray space where things are indeterminate and unclear.

What is the solution here?  For me, it is to lean into that gray space staying present for what comes up and just noticing my desire to rush ahead and what that means for me.  Ultimately, rushing or forcing things before the time is ripe speaks to me of lack of trust; not trusting myself and not trusting the Universe.

I am grateful to Cat for sharing with me in the comments section wise words that articulate the deeper meaning and importance behind my recent vacation/life transition and struggle in re-entry and integration.  The story of the Seal Wife recounted by Clarissa Pinkola Estés in Sealskin/Soulskin has always been a powerful and personal story for me.  I've identified with the feeling of being divided between two worlds; now I am re-reading the story for an understanding of the lesson of how I can return home to my Self.

As in the tale, if we establish a regular practice of intentional solitude, we invite a conversation between ourselves and the wild soul that comes near our shore. We do this not only just to "be near" the wild and soulful nature, but as in the mystical tradition since time out of mind, the purpose of this union is for us to ask questions, and for the soul to advise. (Clarissa Pinkola Estés, Women Who Run with the Wolves)

Abiding with myself, resting in that gray space of not-knowing (yet), trusting that my aloneness at this phase of my journey is precisely what Estés explains as the goal of solitude: 

To be all one. It is the cure for the frazzled state so common to modern women .... It  [is] also used as as an oracle, as a way of listening to the inner self to solicit advice and guidance otherwise impossible to hear in the din of daily life.

I am gathering all the seeds I've collected ... gathering reminders of my travels and discoveries ... sifting and sorting and planting and playing.  Awaiting with curiosity and an open mind what will take root and grow.  Trusting this little guide who presented himself to me while In New Zealand

Kingfisher indicates a period of increased mental and spiritual activity. He will show how to manifest your destiny by listening to your intuition. Since psychic perceptions are increasing, he will instruct how to remain grounded in the earth and be comfortable in doing so. Take time for yourself in quite solitude connecting to Mother Earth. Grounding and centering is needed. Although he may be shy, he knows how to strike with determination. How are you using your "dagger-like bill"? He will teach the art of timing and when to act. Kingfisher demonstrates excellent visionary skills and will teach how track your "prey". He directs attention to feelings and what is unseen. Watch carefully what is going around you. Listen to your dreams and visions. (from Animal Totem Dictionary)

Another reminder that support and guidance is all around me, I just need to fine tune my eyes and ears to better perceive the messages.  

seeking graceland

Lest I forget (which indeed I am prone to doing in this twilight phase that is perimenopause) right off the bat I want to thank all who have passed on words of support and encouragement to me regarding my flight into freedom decision to quit my day job.  While I every fiber of my being knows it is the right choice at the right time, there still are some woefully old-fashioned gremlins of doubt and doom popping up.  I keep thinking of whack-a-mole (horrible game passing as amusement for children!) My fortune may be made in whack-a-gremlin which I am getting pretty good at these days.

I certainly floated through last week feeling stoned.  Must be the disorientation of life without frustration or apathy bearing down upon me.  Colleagues have confided in me that they too would leave - if only they could.  

If I had any doubts about my decision, that all changed on Friday when I received the shocking and unexpected news that a dear friend, a teacher, mentor and fairy godmother to Cowgirl had passed away.  She was only in her early sixties and had taught classes on nutrition, herbs, yoga, meditation and all things geared towards immaculate well-being. The loss to my community is immense; it is equivalent to hearing "Elvis has left the building."  That she passed on the evening of the full moon - THE full moon with lunar eclipse and all kinds of cosmic and personal upheavel/shifts -  makes total sense.  She would be the person to grab a seat on the bullet train into a new dimension, no question about it.

her spiritual name is Kadambari which means "Intoxicated with Love"
This was the first time Cowgirl met her fairy godmother and the love was instantaneous. My friend was not surprised "Oh, we knew each other before."  Indeed, we all had.

Her passing was a reminder not to put off doing those things that pique my curiosity and not to waste time squabbling with one's gremlins and internal nay-sayers.  I had a meeting scheduled with her to discuss ideas for classes I wanted to offer at her wellness center.  She had new programs coming up and I was thinking maybe now I would have the time to take them.  Well, there wasn't time.  


So her greatest gift to me may very well be this reminder to make time for that which matters and not squander my time and attention on matters that ultimately are inconsequential.  She could be frank and blunt at times and she often counseled "The opportunity is now and if you don't grab it, it will be gone."  This in reference to opportunities for inner work, growth, understanding and healing.  If she could say anything right now, I believe she would say "It's time to grow up."  Indeed, our planet, our societies need us all to grow up, take responsibility and take care of ourselves and each other.

I don't know if I am still in free fall or have landed on strange, new ground.  But I feel a certainty within that is rather shocking given my tendency to think and rethink and map out every little thing in an attempt to understand all the angles. As a friend said to me "You leapt, but you considered it very closely."  Indeed, I looked over that edge, calculating the distance between me and the ground for a long, long time.  

I  know in my heart that I am on my path and in addition to leaving my job, I've left behind second-guessing myself and my abilities.  That is something my sister/friend always pointed out to me: I did not understand my true light, my true gifts.  I still may not know how best to share myself, but I know what I have to offer. The breadcrumb trail is there and I have no qualms about following it to wherever it will lead me.  

Meanwhile, I am all aflutter as I finish up my last week (!) on the job and prepare for a big adventure my first day of freedom.  I am traveling to New Zealand to soak up the radiance of this wonder woman and as it now turns out, to heal and nurture my self.  For some reason, travel always provokes the desire to tie up loose ends, tackling tasks that I've blissfully ignored for months but which now seem oddly pressing.  My other travel  obsession centers upon packing; somehow it becomes imperative to bring the right shoes and jewelry and books (and coats and art supplies and knitting materials.)  Checking out my favorite linen pants to make sure they don't have butt wear (am I the only one who experiences this?  The bottoms of well-loved linen pants become a transparent gauze from what?  Butt friction?  Kundalini energy smoldering?)

As I look to support myself through all these changes, I am grateful for the tools I have gathered: painting, reiki, meditation, dear friends who I can trust to receive my words, hold space for the overflow of feelings and thoughts.  My family and the daily practices that root us - bedtime stories, cuddles, and whispers for sweet dreams. 

Music and poetry provide more voices counseling and reassuring me.   I keep hearing Paul Simon singing "Losing love is like a window on your heart ... everybody sees you're blown apart ... everybody sees the wind blow ..."


I'm bound for graceland and I promise to take pictures and share what I discover on the way.

Jai Bhagwan - victory to the light within us all. Go gently sister Moon ... we'll meet again ...  this I know with my whole heart.

i see my whole self (inner excavations)

 

What does it mean to inhabit the whole of me?  To consider my body as something more than just a practical means of moving my brain around ... to let go of the notion that the body is an enemy or at the very least a deviant force that must be subdued, controlled and contained. What would it feel like to shift my attention to what I appreciate about my physicality rather than dwell upon the parts that seem to be cranky, creaky and uncooperative? 


This week's Inner Excavate-along focuses upon the body and the lessons it has to share with us.  Interestingly, the first week of Summer SouLodge has us examining our voice. Thinking about these two perspectives, I realize that my body contains the scars of my mistaken attitudes and beliefs about myself and that all along my body has been trying to speak to me.  


As a child I can remember feeling at odds with my body.  It kept growing when all I wanted was to remain invisible and hidden.  Of course I was the one betraying my body by feeding it a steady diet of junk food ... sweets to try and sweeten my life but which resulted in folds of flab around my girlish tummy.  My protective layer only made me a larger target for ridicule and self-loathing. 


I felt shame at my inability to control my appetite but it was my body's fault, right?  Eventually I waged full on warfare, denying the needs of my body and my budding female-self through an eating disorder.  I - my willpower, my ego self - could exercise complete control.  Of course the end result was total enslavement of body and mind; somehow I escaped but only now realize really it was my body that told me "I don't want to live my life like this."


At times I have cared for, nurtured and celebrated my being-ness through yoga, exercise, cooking, and gardening.  I have also viewed my body as something that has turned on me: denying me what I wanted most of all; becoming ill, injured, creaky, achy, and tired at all the wrong moments; and now in perimenopause as something unpredictable and at the very least, difficult and demanding.

But all along my body has been trying to have a conversation with me.  If my knees could talk, they would tell me that I lock them when I stand, thus sealing myself off from outside support as if that were the only way I can stand and be seen.  What my knees are trying to tell me through a vocabulary of aches and pains is that I need to soften and relax, open and accept support from others, from Life.  To bend my knees, to kneel and pray, is to feel their stiffness and in doing so recognize the unfamiliarity of taking time to just be present, receptive and accepting of who I am in this moment and the totality of my experience. 


Even the craziness of hormones running amok is a reminder that I need to take time to tend to all my needs - spiritual, emotional and physical.  My body's need to slow down, rest more, receive gentle, stretching exercise is important for my total well-being.  I cannot be present for my family if I am exhausted. I cannot hear the whisperings of my soul if I am rushing about in compulsive busyness.  If nothing else, this phase in the life of my body is teaching me to welcome change as an opportunity for new beginnings. 


The body speaks in a subtle language which requires space and time to be received and integrated.  What my body is saying is this:  consider not what is no longer possible, but what is possible.  What feels like joy to bone, muscle, skin and soul?  Cultivate that. Rather than thrashing through life, divided into opposing camps of body and mind, unite and then slip into your life with all of the senses open, with arms wide open, and a heart ready to receive. 

My body, my knees, are telling to stand firmly in this moment and to be present for my life. Feet on the ground, open to the energy of earth and the inspiration of sky, I connect with life as it unfolds within me and around me.  What I am is not just a brain being ferried about by a body, but a body that brings the wisdom of the heart out into the world.  This is the voice I wish to strengthen.  This is the voice I need to heed.

This is how I want to experience life:  my whole being awake, alive and in love.

i love this woman!

I think I'm well on my way, but I still have work to do:





Is she not a kick in the proverbial creative pants?  I want to grab my ukulele and play along ... after I've wrestled with the three paintings who have a few hundred tricks still to teach me.  I think I can strong-arm them into revealing their secrets ...


Except I can't right now.  Besides sitting and pulling my hair out  -


no, really I do that whenever the pressure of ideas within me is unable to find suitable release. I had a nice bald patch after writing my master's thesis but I digress ...


No, there is the inconvenient obligation in my life, also known as my job ...


And I know you all see the writing on the wall, but my mind only sees hieroglyphs and cuneiform which are beyond my willingness to decipher never mind accept.


So I turn to my stand-by practice of sitting (on my hands; to keep them out of my hair) and breathing and checking in with the wiser part of myself which is my body and when I feel calm and present I drop this question into the field of my awareness:


What is true for me right now?  


I don't want to be at my desk, pretending to work ...


I want to be home making messes
grabbing for a cup of cold coffee when I hit that first creative snag
surprised to find the dog sleeping peaceably at my feet while I thrash about
wreckage of tubes and crayons and pencils, open books and journals, scraps of paper 
the crime scene of my inspiration
that damned clock at long last halted as I descend into
what?
chaos? madness? rapture?
the paradoxical meditative state
myself gliding forward upon the vast lake of 
just being 
me
at home
awake
welcoming gods and demons
to my dining room table of art






I am this { } close to either a break down, or a break through.


In the words of the Beastie Boys (r.i.p. MCA)  no time like the present to work shit out


Right now, this sustains me:





Thank you Lynn Whipple.  I don't know you, but you are either my angel or a temptress. Either way, I'm headed down the trail, destination uncertain. 


Be sure to tune in next time to see how our heroine fares in this perilous situation ... 

Scrying (future perfect)

You love your kids way too much to ever feel safe again.  - Anne Lamott 



Once in a great while - usually when I am distracted by something mundane like boiling noodles or sifting through the junk mail - I will glance over at Cowgirl and in a flash see the young woman she is slowly drifting towards becoming. 

It is a bit disconcerting but also thrilling.  Kinda like coming upon a wild animal and experiencing that frisson of awe and instinctual fear.  The image jarring in that the memory of her needy, wispy-haired, mouth-gaping-in-perpetual-want, baby bird self is still very vivid for me.  


But here is the evidence of my girl slowly orbiting away from me. The separation not yet visible, but imminent.  

Her being is as close to me as my racing pulse; at the same time she baffles, excites, delights and frustrates me to no end. 


I was talking with a friend I had not seen in a long while.  This friend is someone I view as a mentor when it comes to mothering.  A professional and a professor, she has a resumé long with achievement yet her focus has always clearly been centered upon her family.  So I was surprised by her reaction when I relating to her my struggle to determine what it is I wish to cultivate within my life.  I was telling her how I admire people like Julia Child (did I throw you with that one?) who so passionately devote themselves to something they believe in and how I have been seeking my whole life to find that one thing - my thing - for myself.  I enjoy too many things I explained to her and I feel the pull to go deeply into something and see where it takes me rather that continue to graze upon the surface of my life.  


The gist of my friend's response was "You are a mother and that occupies your time ... isn't your child your thing?" For a split second I could feel the relief of slipping into that belief.  To heap upon tiny shoulders the responsibility for my meaning and purpose.  It is a tightrope walk - to balance upon a thin wire of being  totally present for and focused upon my child while maintaining our separate identities, our separate needs.  I do not want to make my child a vessel for my longings and aspirations.  I do not want her to believe she is to fulfill the dreams I was too fearful to pursue.

I want her to be her own person and to be able to hear, trust and follow the urgings of her own heart, her own mind.  And as painful as it feels to me now as I witness these first forays into independence, I want her to slip into a life of her own choosing free of any  guilt over pleasing or completing me.   


I tried explaining this to my friend.  I told her if nothing else, I want my daughter to see me as a complete person empowered by knowing it is within my ability and my right to seek that which brings me joy and fulfillment.  When she is in her adult life - a race car driver or a paleontologist as of this week - I want Cowgirl to think of her old mother as an interesting if somewhat eccentric person.  

And perhaps she is witnessing clues to my future self for her school essays about our family always read "My mother likes to paint. I like her paintings."

 

 And so we both grow.   A thrilling if somewhat dangerous and uncertain process. May we always hold space for the other to be who they dare to be.