essentials ...

The first half of this year, I had been grappling with the concept of Simplicity and how to translate it into every day living.  A challenge for me as my natural tendency is to spin towards complexity. Even as I try to embrace less, I find ways to make that process, well, intricate.

My antidote to all the ills of modern living - especially energy draining distraction - is camping.  There is no other process that pares life down to the core basics: traveling, eating, sleeping, keeping warm (or cool or dry or shaded), potty matters, and most important of all ...

Clean water.

On our recent camping trip I was the camp water pumper. We were given a simple filtration pump which - while easy to use - was not the speediest process.  Filling pots for cooking, pots for cleaning, and our water bottles meant I was perpetually crouched down by the water's edge pumping and pumping ... and pumping.  (Note: after pumping your little heart out to fill a large water bladder, it would be wise to stay squatted just a wee bit longer in order to screw on that humble but essential cap on lest you knock the whole thing into the lake, thereby requiring the entire blasted procedure be repeated.)  It was refreshing to have one vital task to perform.  And once I took care of that chore, I found it infinitely easier to sit back and enjoy all the adventures happening around me.

The habit to create Home is fascinating to me.  Within minutes of setting up the tent, the area around it took on a feeling of intimacy and comfort.  The few things we brought with us were all that we needed to complete this transformation, motivating me upon return to tackle storage spaces well over due for some decluttering. (Over this past weekend, I spent 3 hours clearing and cleaning out the kitchen pantry - it is a thing of beauty. Now to dive into the basement!) 

I learned about determination from this fellow:

We found him on the trail to the campsite, quite a fair distance from water.  At the time we thought (foolish human thought!) he was lost and so Cowgirl carried him back to the water.  The next evening I noticed him bobbing in the water at the edge of camp, looking to see if anyone or anything was lurking about.  

A few minutes later, I was startled by his presence on the camp trail!  He was more peeved to find me and quickly turned tail, scuttling and sliding back down to the water.  He returned several times and we finally realized the space by the fire pit was his nighttime sleeping spot, so we hurried our evening events.  After all, it was His Home. 

Like turtle, I can carry and create Home wherever I go and it need not be overly elaborate or intensive.  It is more about intention and presence, rooting in and settling down, utilizing and appreciating what is available and honoring those gifts. Unlike my usual habit of working to create simplicity for myself, the way in is through nondoing: tapping into what is truly essential for well-being and opening to that. What follows is a relaxing, receiving  ... and enjoying. 

 

spiraling in(ward)

'Tis the season ...

This past weekend it was time to winterize the garden (even though it still feels like late summer here) and I find myself marveling at another year under the belt (or on the belly - yes, the menopausal marsupial pouch is emerging). I can't shake the feeling of my life as a spiritual strip-tease in the sense of I am paring away the inessentials to steep myself in what makes a difference, what keeps me in connection with Self and Source.

Obviously, chatter is not high on my "keep" list.

I am popping in to say I am deep in my trenches. All energy is being funneled towards my spiral inward.  What has been supporting me: this circle of lunar lovelies (The Journey Inward) ... astrological guidance and insights from a dear friend and gifted teacher Kristina Wingeier ...a community holding me accountable to daily practice and radiant living (Fierce Grace Collective) and my daily measures (how do I fill my own basket?) which include drawing, painting, cooking, prayer, meditation, time in nature, hands busy with crafts or cradling cups of tea, cuddles under the covers as my girl and I watch cooking shows or nature series ... you get the point. Daily living celebrated but also peppered with curses as I beam my hip against the concrete counter top or fumble with the settings on the dishwasher (how do I override the timer setting that I inadvertently triggered?) or search for my misplaced mailbox key (how did it end up in the trash?)

The week of my birthday I traveled to Northern California for a self-proclaimed goddess retreat. Go figure, the one week of rain coincided with my visit. Well. No matter, two goddesses will have fun wet or dry and I gratefully offered myself to some much welcomed pampering in the form of good food, hot beverages, belly-aching laugh binges and soul-nourishing discussions that sparked some deep aha's.  Oh, and hours of couch lounging watching Six Feet Under. I had forgotten how utterly brilliant and insightful this series was/is. Am eagerly awaiting season two to arrive at the library so I can binge some more.  

flexing our shero muscles; with Kristina Wingeier

While on retreat, we journeyed up the coast for a one day workshop/introduction to Equine Guided Education.  Yes, this is a process where the horse is the coach/guide! My kind of teacher :)  I had an inkling of what might happen, but I also knew (and craved) the experience of having to find my way through feeling and being. I want to shift out of so much thinking (lordy, am I good at thinking thinking thinking) and discover what lurks beneath all those busy thinky thoughts. What really is driving me right now? I keep flashing on "connection" but what does that really mean? What am I holding back from in myself and in my life?  

EGE_Promo, Achille Bigliardi from achille bigliardi on Vimeo.


The day was an introduction to the process and I was able to try both round pen technique (going in and asking the horse for guidance on my questions which really are my confusions) and a leading exercise. I admit, I felt crazy stepping into a muddy, wet ring (another rainy day) with a horse and speaking out loud to her and the group my questions, my ideas, my ill-formed declaration of purpose. What do I really care about? What contribution or legacy do I wish to create, nurture and grow? It was awkward trying to find words when I came to the workshop with the belief that I am lost. And crazier still to struggle with language when what blocks me is my robust and busy mind.  

Cliched statements of belief or purpose fall especially flat when spoken to a horse in the rain. I learned a bit about my habits ... the disconnect between what I say and what I believe. My body language, manner of speaking, and the horse's reaction showed me where the true horseshit was to be found. Later on I realized much of my time in the pen was spent desperately posturing for that horse's approval.  Like me! Tell me I am okay!  Of course, as long as I don't feel that way about myself, the horse isn't going to either. It is all about coherence for the horses, and this horse showed me my inner and outer realities do not line up.  I walked out of the pen still confused, not having dug deep enough down to discover the raw and real source of my imbalance. 

The next exercise was to lead a horse out in the field while clearly one's purpose or inner conviction/now-truth.  I admit, I was thinking to myself "I know how to lead horses! This will be easy." Ha! In a clear and steady voice I stated my truth and stepped forward only to feel the horse statue-still and unyielding. Feeling that first edge of resistance, all my resolve and confidence crumbled. Inside my head, the voices were scrambling, shouting, and panicked. I turned back to look at the horse and without connecting with myself, attempted to move her forward. 

all images of me with the horses by Kristina Wingeier

Again, she would not budge. Apparently, my body language mirrored my own doubts which the horse clearly understood. I wasn't connected to my own truth so much as I was grasping onto a resolve to make this happen. So when it didn't, I could feel everything inside me freeze up. I honestly don't remember the shift. I just breathed. Let go of the voices screaming inside me, lifted my heart and stepped forward. This time when I felt the resistance on the rope, I did not back away. I leaned forward, held on and decided "I want to move on." And then the horse began to walk.

As we made our way in a circle, I could feel the lead line taunt between us and for a moment I worried "It shouldn't be this way." But I also realized if I started thinking, all would be lost. I had to keep moving. To think would lead to becoming stuck again.  And I want to move forward into my life. So I kept walking and the horse followed. Eventually, I was aware of walking with my heart leading, belly soft and it was then that I felt the lead line slacken, the horse and I moving together in harmony.

It all happened so fast, I am still unraveling the experience. Believe in myself. Drop into the body, lead with my heart.  Step firmly and confidently into the Now.  Decide, then act. Quit second-guessing myself. The only one I have to convince is myself. There was a lot of talk about leadership that day. What it boils down to is relationship. I learned that the first horse, Lily - the one whose approval I sought - was the mother of the horse I led in the second exercise. In my own life, my mother never offered me guidance; she only  offered support and encouragement. The challenge has been and continues to be trusting in myself.

I understand now I was holding back in the round pen. I joked that I didn't want to step in the mud or muck. How true. Don't let things be messy, don't be difficult, don't release the confusion and frustration. Move towards the light, stay out of the mud.  Well, Life began in the primordial sludge, didn't it? 

The other piece I am chewing over is the rift between knowing and believing. I keep circling back to my need to KNOW ...  what should I do with my life? Underneath that is my assumption that there exists a single (and correct) answer for me to discover. But what I learned from Tiponi is it matters little the what of my work, my life. What matters is the way I show up for my life. Listening today to an interview with Kundalini Yogi  Snatam Kaur I heard what the horses were trying to teach me: it is about listening and being fully present in myself. It understanding my inner vibration moves out into the world ... what is the state of that vibration? Is it clean, clear, uplifting, and loving? 

How well am I tending to my heart? That is the key to understanding how I can best tend to my life, how I can offer myself to the world.
 
  

lessons on fishing (and time) ...

[F]or me, philosophically, stress is a perverted relationship to time. So that rather than being a subject of your own time, you have become its target and victim, and time has become routine. So at the end of the day, you probably haven't had a true moment for yourself. And you know, to relax in and to just be. 

- John O'Donohue, interview in On Being (transcript here)

The first time I heard those words, I had to stop what I was doing (yes, multitasking), sit down, rewind (so-to-speak) the audio and listen closely.

[O]ne of the huge difficulties in modern life is the way time has become the enemy. (John O'Donohue)

I believe I have been shadow boxing Time for much of my adult life.  It's a slippery eel; the more I try to extract myself from a sense of being caught up in the net of time  -- rushing, running late, arriving breathless, wringing my hands at all I have to pack into one slim suitcase of time -- the more entangled I become.

To be conscious is not to be in time ... (T.S. Eliot, Burnt Norton) 

I totally agree with Eliot ...  but how to live in this modern world of school bus schedules, trash days, tax days, monthly bills and all AND to live in what an art teacher of mine once referred to as Medieval Time (absorbed, suspended within and outside of Time)?

Only through time time is conquered. (T.S. Eliot)

I'm not sure I want to conquer time so much as befriend it? It dawned on me that my frantic relationship with Time is part of a larger and deeply rooted anxiety. "Not enough-ness." It isn't so much Time fudging around with me as much as modern society perverting Time by turning it into a commodity. What is my time worth? You are wasting my time!  Words I've even heard my Girl parrot (from whom? Gulp.) 

I don't want Time as an enemy. I want to understand its deeper magic, the alchemical potential hinted at by O'Donohue when he writes "Possibility is the secret heart of time. On its outer surface time is vulnerable to transience. In its deeper heart, time is transfiguration." (Anam Cara: A Book of Celtic Wisdom)

This student is more than ready ... and finally (it's about time?!) my teacher stepped forward:

Or rather, she perched forward.

For the past few weeks I have gone to the park for a walk and discovered Heron on the edges of the shore fishing.  The immediate lesson Great Blue Heron offers is that of patience. If you want to see Heron doing anything other than standing still like a avian manikin, you had better be prepared to wait. And watch. Abandon any notion of a quick walk and surrender to becoming like Heron by standing still. Looking  and waiting. 

Would say there is a fair helping of trust involved except doubt probably never enters into the heron's mind.  Now, I find myself doubting often ... getting antsy with the suspension of my walk (wasting my time?) but there is that delicious moment when an inner stubbornness wins and with a sigh I adjust my posture and settle in for the wait.

So far, I've always been rewarded.

Or rather, Heron is always rewarded for her patience, her commitment, her deep knowing This Is What I Do.  

Watching her the other day, I realized I often bemoan "Why is it taking me so long?"  The It varies - my understanding, my knowing, mastery of a skill, completion of a project or process, my finding My Way, flashing upon My Purpose - the list is long but the vibe is always that of me out of sync with some mythical timeline. I ought to be further along. I ought to have this all figured out by now.

Yeah. Right-o. 

It struck me that when I am fully absorbed and committed ... like Heron, focused upon the water that will surely yield a fish later or sooner ... I am suspended within the flow of time but not constricted by it. When I tantrum and feel the squeeze of Time -- this is taking me too long! -- then I am not fully in. I am distracting myself. I am turning outward when the call is to go in. Time  - or a fixation upon time and time keeping - is my means of side-stepping the depth diving. I don't have the time and it is taking too long.

So maybe, just maybe my frustration with time is a clue that I hiding out on the surface of time, swinging on the clock face when in fact time offers me a portal to dive deeper within. 

I know Heron's deeper teaching will be both a lesson and a surrender to time. Showing up, abiding, paying close attention, and most of all knowing when to act ...

and knowing when to stay in stillness.

poems with wings

Perhaps I conjure up what I want to avoid? Each April I cannot help but hear echoing throughout the gradually warming days:

"April is the cruelest month, breeding

lilacs out of the dead land, mixing

memory and desire, stirring

dull roots with spring rain." 

- T.S. Eliot, The Waste Land

Spring rains accompanied ceremonies of grieving and celebration. The month began with a fire ceremony marking the passing of one friend ...

and ended at our city's botanical center with a memorial for our neighbors whose unexpected deaths while on vacation has me stumbling pass their house in continual confusion and disbelief.  Witnessing the rawness of grief in their daughter's eyes has stirred up emotions that had settled to the bottom of my own heart. Each new drop of sorrow and loss is added to a swelling pool: my mother, my aunt, my friend, my neighbors ... the list swells backwards and forwards.

I suppose that is how it is in middle age. The longer my tenure here, the more I will have to say goodbye. It is the balance to so many hellos. What has become apparent to me with the loss of my neighbors is the urgency to making each hello count. At their memorial service I was made aware that I really hardly knew them. I mean, we would often meet while walking our dogs and talk of neighborly things: the dogs, the weather, our gardens. A little residents gossip and updating on local events. We each had busy and full lives and our worlds intersected in a narrow margin at sidewalks and driveways. 

Hearing their children, grandchildren, lifelong friends and colleagues share their memories was a privilege. For it gave me pause to consider: What will my legacy be? What do I hope to create with this, my "one wild and precious life?" (Mary Oliver) For my neighbors certainly lived full, attentive, loving and passionately engaged lives.

By opening myself up to the vulnerability of deep grieving, I discover within that dark pool immense inspiration. Listening to person after person talk about my neighbors what slowly emerged was a picture of life anchored in love and purpose. That purpose was to nurture within each individual their unique passions, interests and gifts. 

Assisting me in uncovering purpose and meaning are my art journals and words. My own words, yes (scribbled in more notebooks) but also the bountiful collection of words, insights and meaning found in poetry. As David Whyte so astutely noted, all poets eventually become philosophers.  So I gather close by those books, those writers like Oliver and Whyte who offer so many thresholds into deeper meaning and living.

"One day you finally knew

what you had to do, and began,

though the voices around you

kept shouting 

their bad advice--"

- Mary Oliver, The Journey

I lay in my bathtub listening to David Whyte recite the above poem along with other favorites (like Wild Geese) ... the water and the words soothing aches of the body and of the heart.  (I believe what I've found is an excerpted segment from a longer recording of  The Poetry of Self Compassion.) 

Still feeling raw and tender, I am easing myself back into everyday routines. I don't want to lose these gifts of insight. Considering what would be the most loving action I could offer myself, I headed out for a long walk.  Inspiring me is the work of Sharon Blackie and these words which I had read the night before from her new and immensely powerful book If Women Rose Rooted:

"We spend out lives searching for meaning in ourselves ... trained to be ever-mindful of what is going on inside us -- our breath, and our thoughts and emotions -- when so much of the meaning we need is beneath our feet, in the plants and animals around us, in the air we breathe. We swaddle ourselves so tightly in the centrality of our own self-referential humanness that we forget that we are creatives of the Earth, and need also to connect with the land. We need to get out of the confines of our own heads. We need -- we badly need -- grounding; we need to find our anchor in place, wherever it is that we live. Once we find that anchor, so many of our problems fade away. And once we find that anchor, so often we uncover the nature of our true work, the nature of the gift we can offer up to the world."

On this day many winged ones greeted me. To truly grasp I share the same space with these powerful and magical creatures is to crack open some secret chamber of hope and possibility within. The fullness of life - life with stunning and unexpected hellos and life with heart-wrenching good-byes - flew up before me. And it slipped quietly below me. All around me ... and within me.