tiny magic ... and tears ...

For the second year in a row, I've put out a hummingbird feeder in our garden. While the bird books say that the ruby-throated is a seasonal visitor, I was skeptical. I mean, the winds alone would blast the little fellows clear across the state! Never mind the vast stretches of fields and prairie that would seem inhospitable for these tiny creatures.

So I am continually amazed when I look out my back door and spy a hummingbird flitting about the feeder. There had been one female coming to feed although sightings were sparse. A couple of times I've almost put the feeder away, certain no other birds would be visiting. But then I mix up a new batch of sugar water and hang it out, just in case. 

Yesterday I was pretty certain it was well-past the hummingbird season.  The tomatoes are surrendering the last of their fruit and the mint plants are looking rather leggy; summer is making her exit. I was hunting about the thicket of dying vines, reaching for a lone tomato buried deep within when something buzzed by me. I looked up and discovered I was in the middle of two hummingbirds engaged in territorial battle over my feeder!  

I believe they must be fueling up for their journey south as my feeder has been hopping with hummingbird action for the past 24-hours. This morning there is a chill in the air, a preview of Autumn, and the normally shy birds have stayed on the feeder even when I have wandered outside for a closer look. 

This display of hummingbird magic has done much to revive my own flagging spirits. I am not a hot weather person, so I find the lingering heat draining. I am very much aware of a kind of closure coming to this, my year of mourning for my mother.  The number of days when I can think back to a year ago and remember her with me, those days are dwindling to a hand full. A year ago she wasn't sleeping and could not find any relief to her exhaustion.  

A year ago, I had no idea goodbye would be coming so soon.

Today, I am aware of the impending departure of the hummingbirds. I have been captivated by their antics this morning. One female sits off to the side, on the garden fence, waiting to ambush any intruders. At least three have stormed the feeder and she attacks. This final feeding frenzy feels like a last gift of the season. 

This past year I feel I have felt quiet and even more intensely and inwardly focused than is my norm.  Much is happening beyond the space of words and action. I believe I have been re-rooting myself. Or acclimating my roots to new soil, to a world where my mother's physical being is absent. It has been lonely work, but I never really feel alone. Days like today, the hummingbird wings give lift to my spirits. Yesterday, I worked with the horses and felt their earthiness anchor my soul to this patch of prairie that is my home. 

This morning I learned another sweet being slipped over the fence to that other realm. I actually uttered out loud "oh no!" and sobbed when I read that Stevie, a resident of Apifera Farm, had died. 

I had read about Stevie on Katherine's blog, sketched him numerous times in the online class Capturing The Essence, and I finally got to meet him - twice! - on the farm. 

After my tears had abated, I admit to being grumpy and downright fed up. I mean, Death has been claiming far too many bright lights in my world this past year.  But then I could hear my mother laughing over me weeping for two old goats. Just as the hummingbirds so magically flew into my world, so too have the beings that I have loved best. Without having to do much of anything - just by being here and yes, having a little sweetness or sugar water at the ready helps - love comes in. It flies, it hobbles, it slides up beside me to nuzzle my sleeve or lick my palm. It comes when I am relaxed and open. It comes when I stop searching for it.

And just as quickly, it moves on. But if I have learned anything, it is that loves always returns. Just in new and unexpected forms. 

 I cannot hold onto those whom I love indefinitely. To grasp or grab, to demand or tantrum shatters the magic and sends love scrambling for cover. 

our new love, Beau

But I can be held by love. I can dwell in love which is to say, I choose to keep my heart  open, welcoming all the seasons of loving, knowing that the soil of my soul is enriched through the process of love welcomed and love released. 

What the trees told me ...

I went to the woods to be with my sisters. 

I went to the woods seeking my next step.

I went to the woods feeling lost, confused, uncertain, weary, emptied and afraid. 

I went to the woods to release my grief. To cleanse my soul. To hear my voice. Find my song.

I went to the woods to disappear for awhile. Be quiet. Listen. Receive.

I went to the woods and I was SEEN.  I was HEARD. I was WELCOMED.

photo by Nika Ridley

I went to the woods and I shed yet another layer, another scaly piece of snakeskin armor.  I shed and left in the dirt beliefs that are Just.Not.True.Anymore. 

Stories that were Never True were laid upon the altar and burned. Wounds honored for the truth they bear witness to: Strength. Belonging. Acceptance. Love.

I went to the woods to create new prayers. To gain new tools. To go deeper into my own truth.

I emptied and then I receive the love. Oh, soooo much love.  It cracked me wide open. It pulled my insides out and left me shiny new, tender, raw.

Reborn. 

image by Tiffanie Gabourie Davis

I went to the woods and I was found. I un-covered what had never been lost, just misplaced, buried underneath piles of decomposing leaves, a poultice upon old wounds  long-ago scabbed over and now healed.  New skin ready for sunlight and fresh air.

I sat upon a mossy rock and rested against a tree whose trunk leaned away from the dark of the woods and stretched towards the life and light of the river.  I closed my eyes and I listened to the river's song. I breathed in the scent of wet wood and damp earth. I felt the swift flow of water crashing over rocks in my pulse, in my blood, in my being. 

I listened to the tree tell me its truth, its experience of belonging, of grounding, of reaching, of becoming.   

 

I received the tree's message about claiming my place. Strengthening my root system. Growing by taking in that which refreshes, inspires, and nourishes me. It shared with me t how I am a link between the past of my ancestors - the earth I come from, the clay soil of my body - and the future that I co-create, that I hold in my arms and in my heart, that I lift up and offer to the light. 

I went to the woods with trust in my heart and in my sisters and with a fledgling's trust of myself. Wobbly, not quite certain, but willing to make the leap. By doing so,  I was welcomed into magic and healing, wonderment and love.

Oh, the love ... a mother's love ... mama goose's love and dedication to her eggs, dedication to life ...

Dedication to her path reminding me to honor mine, to have patience and understanding that there can be no rushing soul work. It must be attended to with care and kindness, generosity and a constant dose of patience and no self judgement. Just love and understanding.

I went to the woods lost, alone, weary, and weak.  I came home fortified, refreshed, filled, and connected.

image by Nika Ridley

I came home flooded by the sense, the understanding, of So.Much.Love and a taste of the immensity of the power and magic of that love that surrounds me and is me.  I came home ready to be fully myself.  It takes a team to do this work. Thankfully, these doulas were on hand to guide me through the journey. Aho my sisters. So.Much.Love to you all.

our ReWilding doulas

 

tiny messages ... (finally, friday)

Even when things are moving at autobahn pace, there are still tiny yet powerful reminders to slow down ...

Look down ...

And say Thank You.

Thank you for coming ... for allowing yourself to bee seen ... for offering your teachings to me to keep my eyes, ears, and heart open.  Always ...
 

may it continue to be so ... may I continue to trust and believe.  Aho.  I honor all my ancestors, guides, and guardians for guiding me to this place where I now stand. To my home ... to myself. 

i am holding a piece of bear paw bone ... a reminder of a powerful ceremony with Bear and a gift from a powerful Sister who shares more about Bear HERE

the care of seeds

Sometimes a little perspective is needed ...

Three months ago when it seemed Spring was more a hope than a reality, we planted all kinds of seeds ...

anticipating (or summoning?) sunny days, warm breezes and gentle rain (and there was rain, but not always gentle!)

eager and impatient for our efforts to ripen and finally, that day has come!

In the scheme of things, three months isn't all that long a time but when it comes to tomatoes  - having suffered through the water-bloated fruit that is the only resort for folk in winter-wrapped locales - three months borders on an eternity.  But finally, we have tomatoes - our tomatoes!

Gardens are a favorite - and instructive -  symbol for me.  I think about my life as a garden: the variety of beds I tend, the cycles of seasons, the importance of crop rotation.  I've been tending to some overdue and serious weeding: understanding the role of my weeds (the obstacles, the deeply rooted beliefs, mindset, and attitudes) and taking care to dig them out without damaging newly planted seedlings.  

Nothing new here - just reaffirming my role in the care of my dreams, the tending to these heirloom seeds.  I cannot control how they grow or even if they will sprout and take root.  I cannot dictate the size or the fruit or the quantity of the harvest.  Other elements are at play.  Which is to say: I am not doing this (my life, my creative work, my relationships) on my own and the notion of control is not only a fallacy, but the path to ruin.  

I have been mindful of this partnership with Source, Spirit, the Divine ... whatever you want to call It.  I have always trusted it, I just haven't trusted myself so much.  What I am learning - or re-learning as I seem to repeat my aha moments! - is the beauty and power of showing up.  Showing up for my practice - whatever that may be or look like in the moment - which is really to say, I am showing up for my life as it is and as I am in this day. There is an expression: tether your camel, then trust in Allah. The meaning being: I am the one with hands to make manifest the magic of Source.  I must do my work, but then surrender to the outcome (which I cannot control anyway!), surrender to what does happen and be open to discover the unexpected gifts, lessons and/or insights.

I am aware of a beautiful inner garden where I go to refresh and restore myself.  It had been a place I retreat to, a place separate from my everyday world.  I have become aware that I nurture that garden every time I attend to the details of my day with a sense of curiosity, reverence, and gratitude.  In fact, I am in that space - in my inner garden - whenever approach my life as sacred and a gift to appreciate, value, and enjoy.  This moment is sacred.  As a dear friend/mentor says "You are sacred space and I am sacred space. And from that space, let us begin."  

The trick is to show up.  No matter how tired, frustrated, depleted or drained I am, I know that magic can only happen when I add my spark to the kindling.  I've been witnessing the truth of this with my Sketch Diary Campers.  Several bravely admitted how hard and frustrating the practice can be, yet they have stuck with it.  They water their creative garden and are trusting what will take seed and sprout will be right, will be what they need.  Already things are shifting.  Already they are seeing transformation in their art but more importantly, within themselves!  This is like miracle-grow of the very best kind for it inspires me to stick with what I know to be true: I have to do the work, put it and myself out there as a gesture of feeding creativity, spirit, magic - whatever it is I am in partnership with. Tether my camel, do my bit.  Then trust. And receive.

Another way to view this: I have never seen a hummingbird in Nebraska until I put my feeder out.  Then, just like magic: she showed up!

What or who are you partnering with on this day?  How are you nurturing that relationship?  What seeds are you tending and how are you honoring their growth?

cracked wide open ...

Yesterday was the kind of a day I want to sandwich between sheets of waxed paper and laying a heavy book on top (how about my Treasures of the Louvre - one fat and heavy mama of a coffee table art book!) press and preserve the multitude of rich details as a remembrance to carry me through leaner days. 

It began with a morning more like early April than July: there was an unexpected chill to the air and gentle breezes under crystal clear blue skies. The day held a sense of freshness that only a cool, dew damp early morning can offer. I went running and came upon a flock of wild turkeys, fourteen in all.  I moved to the side of the road and they slowly streamed by me and then slipping into the woods, they vanished.  I stood in the street, locked in my trance until a neighbor moving his trash cans broke the spell.  

Minutes later, a hawk swooped over me and landed on a roof top.

All before my morning coffee. I figured I had had my fill for the day.

Spontaneity is not my normal habit, but it is something I crave and try to practice.  Although my list was long, my list is always long.  So when I discovered magic might be happening less than an hour's drive away, I bundled Cowgirl into the car and we set off on a little road trip.

I had meant to pack my camera, but in the haste to get out the door and into an adventure, it was left in the mudroom.  Which is just as well because some days can only be captured by the sensitive medium of the heart. 

Road trip in the Midwest means miles and miles of grass, cows and sky.  Road trip over The River (which for us is the Mighty Mo or the Missouri River)  and into Iowa means rolling hills like sleeping giants keeping you company for much of the journey. Years ago I used to toss my bike into the back of my dark blue pick up truck (oh yes, move to Nebraska and at some point you own a pick up) to make this drive to the Wabash Trace, a 63 mile bike trail running down the profile of Iowa  to the border of Missouri. It's a beautiful trail that dips in and out of farmland with refreshing stretches tunnel-like through groves of trees.  And hills.  Lots and lots of hills.  Thankfully there are local ice cream stands situated right by the trail.  

While I wasn't on this trail today (although now that I am remembering it, I am storing the idea away for future adventures with Cowgirl) others were.  We were traveling to meet them.  "How would you like to visit two poets who are riding their bike across Nebraska to share their love of words and books?"  This surprisingly lassoed Cowgirl in, although in all honesty, she is always up for spontaneous adventures even when they may sound oddly vague or baffling.  Poets? On one bike? (I had to explain the tandem concept to her) Opening up libraries?  (again, explanations on the Little Free Library)  Why not?

We arrived well before Maya and Amy, so we had time to make new friends while sitting outside the quaint Glenwood Public Library (the kind of library you knew as a child - or wish you had known - its big stones steps lifting you up to the treasures within).  Did I mention it was a glorious day?  We walked to the town square (oh yes, this is a true small town folks) to find something cool to drink, the orange Fanta raising Cowgirl's spirits even higher, so by the time the poets arrived, she was doing cartwheels on the sidewalk and playing tag with her new friend.

Then the fun began.  Meeting new and old friends (faces remembered from art workshops long ago and in more woody scenes), the treasures of the traveling Tiny Book library (seeds for future play) and then what we had come for: our poems.  

We actually brought artwork - a Cowgirl original drawing of an Ice Dragon - to trade for poems.  Maya and Amy set up on one of the benches outside the library, their typewriters on their laps, a stack of index cards by their side, and one by one we filed up and gave them our word which they expanded into poetry.

This is where things cracked wide open.  Or maybe it was just me cracking apart.  

After completing the poems, each writer would read out loud her poem to the recipient, while all of us gathered leaned in closer to witness the miracle of words capturing deep soul truths and gentle wisdom. Each poem felt intensely private and intimate, as if we were receiving with our poem, a blessing. We were given our poem cards, but we also were given a glimpse into the fuller possibility of our word and the meaning it embodies for ourselves and for our lives.

dragon by Maya Stein

It's funny how something that looks so dangerous can turn out to be so gentle. It is easy to be misunderstood, to see claws  when all they are is hands, to see fire when all it is is breath. If I could give you any advice, it would be not to worry if someone shies from your scales, if your sharp, wise eyes frighten and intimidate.  What's beautiful about you is what's beautiful about YOU. Hold this close to your big green heart.

Dragon by Amy Tingle

What do you like about dragons, Clara? Is it the way they can breathe fire or their sharp claws, or the whipping of their tails?  If I had to guess I would say it was their wings. I can picture you soaring about the snow-capped mountains or crossing an ocean on wings of your own. Letting the thermals carry you when you need to rest, flapping hard when you have somewhere to go. Oh, Clara, close your eyes and feel your wings grow.



dandelion by Maya Stein

How they stood by the Nebraska back roads like little soldiers, how the wind never seemed to disturb them, how their tufts held firm and reminded me to sit a little deeper in my seat, and hold the reins with a lighter touch. It is a different thing than trees, their rooted loyalty to the earth. The dandelion says, it is alright to bend and sway to the elements. It is alright to wave from the side of the road and, sometimes, blow a kiss to whoever passes by.


Dandelion by Amy Tingle

On the side of the road in Colorado we saw dandelions with heads as big as a grapefruit. I thought of how many things I could wish if I stopped to blow on one. I'd wish for good health and bigger adventures. I'd wish my daughter would grow to be strong and true. I'd wish for a peaceful heart and a peaceful world. I'd wish for patience and creativity and trust and truth. I'd wish for more wishes, wouldn't you?


What more can I possibly say?

I can say this: driving home we both were quiet for awhile, each of us wrapped up in the magic of an afternoon that seemed like a dream from summer nap. Before we pulled into the driveway, I asked Cowgirl what she thought about the people we've met this summer - the people like Katherine Dunn and Maya and Amy  - who have fashioned lives and work from what they love doing and what they feel passionate about.  I wondered if she recognized that theirs are not standard job titles listed under careers, but ones they created for themselves.  She was quiet in that way that tells me she is chewing things over.  It is a conversation I intend to continue ... for both our sakes.
   

dog days

My stars, where did this week go?  I confess, I come to this space to touch that part of me that feels enduring, that tastes of my essence, that holds space for my dreams.  Sometimes it is easy to share stories from my days; like plucking ripe fruit and savoring.  Other times, it is hard to find me.

It has been a challenging week.  I could lay blame upon the weather ... the build up by the local news for storm system that threatened - and proved - to be severe. 

As much as I hated living in earthquake country, the hype around storms here is akin to blow-by-blow reports of an invading army. It is hard maintaining an even keel when all about you are screaming "The sky is falling! The sky is falling!"  The girl and I did what we could do: offer prayers for protection and support from the local fairies, dragons, and spirit protectors.  We walked the perimeter of our yard scattering herbal offerings, smudging with sage and chanting.  My neighbors are getting used to us and our "usual" ways.

But storms aside, I have to be honest and acknowledge that summer (or summer-like weather) is and always has been my challenging season.  When all around me is activity, sunshine, and go-go-go my tendency is to want to seek a quiet spot, preferably in the shade and read a book, sipping iced tea.  What trips me up, is questioning myself: what is wrong with me? Why no ambition?  

Yet I know this is how I feel every year.  My already hot disposition requires cooling off.  Less is more is a lesson for me year round, but especially now.  I believe I ought to be able to do more, fill the days with activity the school years doesn't allow, yet the truth is, we all need this time to empty out.

What I want to remember for myself, for this time with my girl, is to allow ease into our days.  In these bright, sunshiny days there is more to receive: the songs of the birds, the bounty of our garden, the space and time to cut loose, relax and enjoy.

I sat down to write this post with a dark cloud over my head.  But sitting here, allowing myself to be with my experience (not pushing it away, not denying, not questioning) something has shifted.  Or rather, I just shifted.  Releasing this inner battle with my dark dog allowed me the space to look up and see the first butterfly of the season visiting my hanging planter.  

Message verified and received. 

The days ahead fill up without me having to add any more ... martial arts, pool, our neighborhood garage sale (ah, divine decluttering ... but it has an energetic price!) it's all I can do to fling some tuna salad on a plate, gather the girl and keep going.  Honoring my inner rhythms and tides, recognizing this is my outflow time, and lazy is the new self care.

Perhaps not lazy ... but blissfully simple and elemental.  Grass (grounding), deep breaths (air), letting go of judgment (grace), and surrendering to play (flow).  I swing wide and wild this time of year, so I need to honor the pull towards the  extra space to allow myself to be ... to thrash and roll without getting hurt by rigid expectations or limitations.


 

 

soul ℞

Days full with family,work, play, and gardening leave me satiated but also depleted energy-wise.  When I find my mind spinning, my attention anywhere BUT where I am, I know it is time for a dose of much needed self-care:

Clearing my head and calming my nerves ... I think I must have been a china plate painter in a past life, the act of filling in small spaces with colors and shapes is incredibly soothing.  I cannot hurry ... I must go slowly ...

Tending to all my senses is how I find my way back to myself.  For immediate emotional and/or energy shift, I turn to scents.  The very best soul medicine I've been blessed to experience are blended oils by this plant goddess:

Special treats arrived today and we both are captivated by the scent stories in Hummingbird (a beautiful ruby red botanical blend including rose and jasmine) and Mountain Lion (sunshine and courage in a roll-on!)  After a long and steamy Midwest week (sadly, my favorite seasons - spring and autumn  - seem to be vanishing under the assault of long winters and summers) the sweet grass blessing cream has me blissed and chilled out.  (Meanwhile, I ration out Owl and Deer - two other blends that keep me inspired and grounded.) 

Blissed and blessed.  All that is required is a little time, adding color, air, light and breathing in deeply.  Very deeply. 

(Full disclosure: I am not an affiliate for The Gatheress; I am a fan and happy addict of all that she crafts and as a lover of fragrance want to say that her botanical blends are nothing short of artistry, magic, and olfactory heaven.)

simply close the door (thoughts on boundaries + giveaway!)

I was about thirty when I first learned about the concept of personal boundaries.  It was a pretty pivotal moment, I suppose because I didn't have any real boundaries.

As my therapist explained, I was like a house with many doors and windows.  When someone has healthy boundaries, they determine who or what is allowed to enter the house; they control the opening of doors and windows.  In my case, my "house" self had no glass in the windows and the doorknob were on the outside!

The renovation of my house - of me! - is a continual and on-going process.  Just as I installed proper doors and deadbolts with my family of birth, I became a mother.  This new terrain is challenging. I want the best for my girl and I know all-too-well the ease - and the danger -  of projecting my tendencies, my desires, my fears upon her.  She is her own person but balancing the task of guiding, providing, and safe-guarding with an understanding of when it is necessary to let go, allow, release is a tricky thing.  

I share what I love with her, not in the hopes of grafting her life upon mine, but with the intention of her crafting a life lived with passion, curiosity, sense of power and creative possibility.  

we created a water wheel in celebration of Beltane; our wheel was made from chalk, crystals, & stones

we added birdseed, cornmeal, lavender and our prayers and songs to activate the wheel

Sometimes I am not thrilled with her choices: Nintendo DS (I don't even know what the DS stands for), Pokemon cards, Beyblades, Ninjago ( I sense a trend here with pseudo-Japanimation) but as a kid I too binged on some junk entertainment before discovering real nourishment.

THIS thrills me: her enduring passion for dragons (and new love of riddles)

Just as I impose commonsense limits upon sweets (one sweet a-day) while offering healthy options, my hope is she will understand it is in her power to make good choices.  

At her school, they introduced a concept of bucket-filling, and bucket-dipping.  A good friend is someone who fills your bucket through words, gestures, and actions.  A bucket-dipper is someone who is hurtful, rude or disrespectful.  The worst thing you can be, according to Cowgirl, is a bucket-dipper.  But I've tried to point out to her that if someone is dipping in her bucket, she has the right and the responsibility to cover her bucket. 

Or in my case, to simply shut the door.  

There is so much more to learn and share.  I am excited to be able to offer 2 spots in Pixie Campbell's upcoming online offering Boundaries Book Camp with Mountain Lion.  I can think of no better way to define, clarify, understand and strengthen boundaries.  This  two-week intensive with daily prompts, media and interactions is 

 about building stronger communities, relationships and partnerships through the superheroic gesture of protecting ourselves from others’ psychic debris, and protecting others from ours. Clarity of awareness and loving language emphasized.

I will be there, gathering ideas and tools to pass on to my girl-cub ...

tools for our ceremony, including this song

I will be drawing 2 names from comments on this post and on the accompanying facebook thread.  (If neither work for you, please email me lishofmann(at)novia(dot)net and I will enter you into the drawing.)  I will announce the winners next Friday (May 16) so be sure to leave you name before then! Make sure I have a way to contact you.

Boot camp begins May 19.  Get ready to step fully into your power, your voice.

my little chip ... (finally, friday)

... and yes, I know it is Saturday!  Staying out of time as best I can! 

Mini-me, you complete me ... just the two of us ... 

We each have own rattle now ... this one needs to dry and then I can unstuff it, add another row of stitching and fill with sound. I am learning the songs of the mothers, the songs of the goddess and passing them onto Cowgirl.  Grateful for her enthusiasm, her care and tender keeping of the teachings.
  

scattered pieces, scattered seeds

I've recently returned from a mini-trip and honestly, I wouldn't be surprised to learn that I've scattered the contents of my Self along with my suitcase along the trail bringing me back home.

Actually, I DID grab someone else's suitcase from the airport shuttle van and only realized as I reached down to hoist it into the trunk of my car. "That's funny, I didn't think I had a luggage tag on my bag."  Fortunately the passenger who had my bag was rolling it towards me as I maniacally made my way hunchbacked and chasing down the van through the parking lot.

I was extra paranoid about my suitcase arriving with me as I was bringing back a meat mallet (a.k.a. still wet buck skin rattle) along with other scraps of flesh in plastic baggies to later sew into a hand rattle for my girl.

rattles drying ... mine is on the top, right hand side ...

Yup, this is my life!

cutting skin IS hard work!  Never mind that I am a vegetarian ... although powerful lesson in honoring the lessons of life & death passed on to us through these 4-footed teachers

I have embarked upon a year-long intensive study with 11 other like-minded sisters under the tutelage of this Wild Woman

Our weekend beginning with deep practice and gratitude for the animal guides who have stepped forward to support us in this work.  Our guide for our opening day being the equally wild and wise Witchy Nis.  

It feels as if so many seeds have been tossed onto fertile soil and now I am frantic as many many little seedlings are breaking through and asking for my attention and care.

Because then, there is THIS:

"Mythological images are the images by which the consciousness is put in touch with the unconscious. That's what they are. When you don't have your mythological images, or when your consciousness rejects them for some reason or other, you are out of touch with your own deepest part. I think that's the purpose of a mythology that we can live by. We have to find the one that we are in fact living by and know what it is so that we can direct our craft with competence."

Joseph Campbell, Pathways to Bliss (shared by Elizabeth Duvivier in her current course The Magic of Myth)

What is MY myth?  What is the guiding story by which I create/experience/interpret my life?  My SELF? It seems to me if I can figure that piece out, everything else will fall into place.

Such a tangle of thoughts especially for one whose mind is still trying to catch up with her body!  I am home but not returned yet from the journey I've begun.  


Someone was very interested in my new rattle (it is dry now and requires additional work, stitches tightened, grain added, additional ceremony and adornment)

Scattered seeds, shaking seeds, planting, tending ... Spring is arriving in her many forms. I think Persephone has some lessons in store for me ...