My Autumn Stew

No, I'm not sharing  a crock pot recipe ... although the sudden cold snap has me thinking a pot of slow-cooking, root vegetables in a thick soup does sound warming and grounding. No, I am the one slowly simmering ... allowing myself time to enjoy this season of Harvest by allowing space and time for me to process and digest all that has occurred in the past year or so.

Carving out a chunk of my day to sit quietly, I find it best to keep my hands busy. This allows my mind to do its thing by which I mean churn and process, spew empty out, then reorganize, reconstruct and discover new relationships or new ah-ha's. In addition to writing the last three posts about my trip to Bali, I've been spending time sewing a set a prayer flags started during that trip.

The action of gathering pieces of fabric, creating and stitching has helped me seal in the magic and medicine of that journey. It is my own sort of witch's cauldron or alchemist's brew.

I've also been deeply engaged with making my Inner Alchemy Earth Coven cards. I was a guide for this session so I offered to the collective deck the word Cherish.  

I realized of all the elements, Earth is the one I actively cultivate in myself and my life. Earth is the element I lack, so I must generate it in a conscious manner. Grounding, rooting, centering myself physically and emotionally. It was helpful for me to realize I am actually quite good at it! That I've unconsciously but naturally moved in the direction of creating grounding practices for myself. 

A helpful way for me ground myself is through routine. I may shake up the ingredients: just as my soups and stews are always a free-form play with what is on hand, what appeals to me, what I crave, so too my creative routine may swing from sewing to painting to writing. But creating is something I must do and I realize now it is how I root myself in my life.  It is also how I take the chaos that is my mind and spin it into some sort of crafty/arty object. It is the process that educates me more than anything else.

I've also come to realize that just as I embrace an intuitive approach to creating - allowing the work to unfold in conversation with my creative Muse a.k.a. spontaneous action/inner guidance - so too my day-to-day life is about trusting in the process. It is karma yoga really - showing up and doing my part, but surrendering attachment to the outcome. To be more specific: letting go of believing I can - or want to - control what results from my work, my actions or my words. For this is where the real magic happens.

For too long I've agonized over what I should be doing with my life. There is an intense push in our culture to Make A Difference and Be Important. Of course, who decides what constitutes important or helpful or vital? There's what I set out to teach my daughter and then there is what she learns. I can only do what I can - what feels right for me - trusting myself and trusting her.  A trust stew you might say. 

I have no idea which - if any - of my actions will grow into something bigger, substantial or sustaining. Maybe my habit of a creative practice will be a foundation for my girl. But then again, what may make the biggest impact upon her is the way I wake her up in the morning with a cuddle. Or that I read every night before going to sleep. Or maybe what will matter is not what I do, but what I don't do? 

And by extension, my biggest contribution to this world - my legacy if you will - will have nothing to do with my daughter or anyone I know intimately but will be some seemingly random action that set off a reaction somewhere else. The last minute tossing in of an herb that transforms the stew into some new, exotic dish? 

I just can't know. So rather than squander energy trying to control it all (or plan it all or inspiration board it all) I choose to live. I mean, what is the ultimate creative act but that of living? Showing up, honoring the guidance of my heart and following the creative impulse which keeps me immersed in my life. And then trusting ... it will be what it will be and that is always something marvelous and beyond anything I could have predicted or planned for, never mind create on my own.

  I choose partnership ... with life. I embrace being surprised. Because generally, I always am. 

gone to the dogs ...

I had thought I would share about my on-going obsession with canine portraiture ... and I will at another time ... but as I was thinking to myself "I've gone to the dogs" I must have inadvertently called down upon myself all manner of mishap and misfortune.

You see, this is the current state of my world.

You have to factor in the noise - handymen muttering to themselves, air stapler whapping and the concurrent hissing of a pump (for said air stapler or hammer-thingy) that makes it seem like are on a raft that is steadily deflating. 

Unfazed by it all is Mr. Moose who lies by my feet. Well, he is on pain medication which brings up another story of angst and woe. I found a black mass by a toe and trust me when I say, you do not want to Google 'black mass toe dog" unless you are prepared for some grisly images and dire reports. So immediately he went in to see the vet and the mass had to be removed - surgically of course - in order to be biopsied. So now we wait to find out what exactly that black blob was (think skin tag please.) But the Universe knows it is best to keep busy lest one's thoughts drift down dark alleys so it tossed out a curve ball with this line dropped into the post-op report "found a live flea on Moose."

Okay. So this is how it goes. As I've been in a month long practice called Messages Everywhere I now have the habit of pausing and asking myself "What is the message in this situation?" Or more appropriately: what meaning can I fashion using the caca that life serves up?  Just last week I had finally - finally! - settled into a routine of sorts with a writing project that has been fluttering about my mind and disturbing my sleep for some time now. I got butt in chair and began.

And then I had to stop in order to tend to the chaos that is life. Or my life anyway. Handymen, vet visits, flea wrangling, and all manner of inopportune events and details forced upon me.

And that is life, isn't it? I catch myself moaning "When I get my life back ..." but it was never lost or surrendered. It feels like it's been hijacked, but that is a product of my believing I am in total control of this story. The truth is, I am a co-author at best or as I think of myself, half of a dance duo. Sometimes I get to lead, but more often I have to follow, to allow the dance to swirl and twirl me about, learning the footing as I go.  It's not always elegant ... think Cloris Leachman in Dancing With the Stars. But I can still have fun, still make it mine through the way I respond to what is tossed at me.

So the writing, for now, is on hold again. I suppose something is simmering within. Meanwhile, I pull out my sketch journal and commit to a daily practice: one Moose a-day. This I can do. This brings me a small parcel of joy. I am also writing letters and engaging in the most therapeutic of all actions: doodling. I'm not changing the world, but I am changing the world within me. 

One dog drawing and painting at a time.

Maybe I'm not suppose to  figure everything out -  make sense of it all -  so much as find ways to stay in love amid the mess and confusion. In love and adding to it. 

When I am overwhelmed, when I am in fear, when I am at my wits end - a good place to be, I believe ... out of wits and into faith - then I must remember to return to what carries me through ...

I create and I pray.

I ask for what I need, I ask for guidance. I ask to remember to act, speak, and come from my heart.

And so it is. And so it will be.

Love & Woof!

 

my girl, home from camp!

conjuring love ...

I am finishing up my HeartFull Living circle and what a magical gathering it has been! With one more post to go up, I woke today wondering where to find inspiration?  I didn't have to look too far ...

Can you believe it?  From a smudge of grime or dirt on my front door window this rainbow heart appeared on the wood floor.  I couldn't have create such a perfect heart if I had tried! The art historian in me can't help but think of the stained glass windows in Gothic cathedrals and how light was understood by the Medieval to be an instrument and aspect of the divine.

Certainly we've been conjuring up love over here ...

creating farewell offerings to send out to the women who circled with me this past month. 

Keeping hands busy stitching and embellishing a new set of prayer flags (part of Em Falconbridge's A Year of Soul*Makes offering) has the entire house humming with creative play. Messages from HeartFull living spilling over into my day, my work, my world ...

 

Trying not to think too much, but relax and enjoy the flow.  The theme of the new season seems to be love and mandalas ...

Which isn't all that unusual as I am working under deadline to complete my contribution to Spectrum 2015, Mandala Moon Meditations.  I've got mandala fever and am excited to be sharing my monthly moon mandala practice there.  Tuning into the moon's energies, creating my mandalas, working with ceremony - all these activities are fueling insights as I shift through the layers of daughter/mother/queen/crone which seems to be the hidden wisdom within my grieving process. 

a sneak preview of my Moon Mandala Meditations process; visit Spectrum 2015 to learn more

And as Spring awakens new growth within me, projects are popping up including a  collaborative learning/sharing lunar cycle circle with my wise and inspired sister, Kristina Wingeier as part of her Inner Wisdom School.

Oh, much love and magic is afoot ... I dare not think too much.  Just opening and receiving and saying thank you thank you thank you ...

Beauty + imagination + conversation = love.  That's my kind of sacred mathematics.

my everywhere ...

The rain is turning over to snow and I pause in my day to consider what now?  I've been up for hours tending to those things that each day requires me to tend to  ... making the coffee, emptying the dishwasher, making breakfast, putting a load of laundry in, walking the dog, tidying up the always threatening tower of paperwork that seems to increase even with vows of "paperlessness" ... Are you jealous yet?

Not that I've made much headway as for every paper dropped into the recycling container, I've managed to drag out bulkier odds and ends - tub of paints, pile of fabrics, cards, notebooks, knitting, books - and now here I sit staring at the visible expression of my inner landscape.  I wonder if the earth feels the same way? Heavy and full with all that awaits release, expression, transformation and slightly bogged down by it all?

I realize the beast that stalks me is the notion of something BIG ... my Big Project that keeps to the shadows yet never let's me feel fully at ease.  Even as a child I think I believed there was something Big, something Important I was meant to be doing.  I now wonder if I've been stalking it? Or has it been hounding me? 

I am dabbling with this dangerous thought: what if that something Big (a.k.a. worthy, worthwhile, significant, valuable) isn't some grand beast? What if my Big is actually no one thing, but rather the many little things that make up my day?  What if my Walden Pond or Portrait of the Artist or Starry Night is no one thing, but all these tiny pieces, fleeting moments, slips of paper, images capture, doodles dashed off and scraps of fabric stitched into prayer flags all one giant Big rolled up and held together simply because they are mine? 

Dare I admit an epiphany came while grunting away on the elliptical machine in our basement, watching a recorded episode of Girls?  I guess I dare.  In the episode Hannah, who is in the prestigious Iowa Writers Workshop and tormented by the whole experience, is having dinner with her father. She wants to quit and while she wants someone to tell her it is okay to leave, she can't quite buy his advice to do what's right for you.  He then shares with her that her mother once wrote a book and was miserable in the process. But afterwards, she was able to return to doing the things she enjoyed doing. 

Which leads me to consider how I might be rather miserly with myself, parceling out odd moments to the things I love doing or worse, while so engaged looking over my shoulder thinking "Yes, but there is that beast in the corner not so patiently waiting for my attention."  

Not to say I might not one day gather my courage and head into the woods, but right now right here before me are the pieces of my life in all their wonderful chaotic beauty.  I look around me and I see much room for play and joy. I look around me and everywhere this is what I see ...

Dragons.  Dragons asking to be embraced, not slayed.  Dragons help not harm is what my girl often writes on her pictures.  So too the many bits and pieces of my passions, my interests.  They offer me opportunity to build upon happiness.  

So I am learning to see rather than focusing upon the creation of one massive opus, my way is more like japa meditation: each piece of my day, each seemingly haphazard moment of creative play  or engagement is like a prayer whispered over a single bead in a mala necklace. Slowly, mindfully I try to spread my prayers across the beads that make up my days. Eventually, if I stay committed, my life will be held together by all those prayers. And won't that be something massive and love-filled? 

 

Time for tea and dreams.  What about you?

uneasy comfort

This is where I long to be ... this is where I all journeys begin and end ... this is where my deepest work lies ... this is what I strangely resist ...

home

As much as I give it lip-service, it is hard for me to wind down. I hop from space to space, task to task. Without limitations or real time constraints  (other than the obligations of Cowgirl & Moose Dog) I seek something solid to lean into. Usually that means tossing myself into a commitment which then provides me a direction and focus.  Like George Costanza, I recognize I need to do the exact opposite of what compels me ... not overriding intuition, but bypassing reflexive habit to allow myself time to perceive the quiet guidance.

Staying open ... waiting for the miracle to arrive ...  this is challenging when everything in me screams to get up, get a plan together, and get going. This seems to be the online fortune du jour "don't leave before the miracle happens" and my unofficial research (thank you, Google Now) tells me this saying comes from AA. Which seems right as chronic busyness is  certainly a modern addiction and one I am susceptible to caving into. 

So home is where I meet myself. Home is where I can be myself and it is where I face my greatest discomforts with self. When I've peeled away all the distracting babbles, the pressures to live up to some new cultural ideal - the attentive mother, empowered wild woman, transforming light-bearer, inspired & uplifting entrepreneur - I behold what I truly want to be.

Home-maker.  In the fullest sense of the word.  Home as described here. Home as a center of balance within, approached through quiet, solitude, inner conversations, deep listening. I am inspired by this home-lover.  I am preparing to tackle worn-out beliefs about who it is I want and believe myself to be ... revising my story if you will.  Sitting back and digesting this juicy bone:

What would happen if the stories we have been telling only exist because we tell them? (Nissa of Soul Craft, The Stories of Now starts February 1)

I'm beginning by the way I respond to the question: Employer?  I take a breath, make sure I am sitting up straight, gaze directly at the person asking and respond "I work on home; I'm self employed."  Every night, when the Husband comes home and inquires What did you do today? I am going to notice my desire to squirm, to snap, to launch into how many loads of his laundry I did for him (housework is a favor ... one granted out of love ... but a still a favor and not a de facto responsibility) and  instead I will truthfully answer him "I was busy loving life."  It's not a job, but it is a responsibility, a privilege. 

There is so much beauty, there is so much to cherish and enjoy.  Making things difficult, choosing the hard path, that's another threadbare story I'm ready to pitch out. Struggle does not automatically make me more worthy, the prize more valuable.  It's like wearing comfortable shoes:  You cover the same distance but in ease and enjoyment of the total experience and not dwelling on each painful step. 

There's a story that goes like this: An old woman was out on a street searching for a lost needle.  People passing by stopped and offered to help her look for it.  As they joined in on the search, they quickly realized the road was very wide and a needle very small and difficult to find.  Hoping to narrow down the search they asked the old woman "Grandmother, where did you lose it?"  She replied "Inside my house." The people were perplexed. "Why are you looking out here?" She explained to them that there was more light outside to see by. That inside is dark.  She smiled at their confusion. "Don't you do the same?  Why are you searching for bliss in the outside world? Have you lost it there?" 

What I seek is within me.  It's not about answers to questions, it's not about defining my purpose, it's about coming home. Being home. It's about greeting each day as another opportunity to deepen my connection to the love affair that is life ... my life, as it is.  My new mantra it seems is one word: This.

This day ... this meal ... this conversation ... this moment ... this wound ... this healing ... this incredible gift of loving and being loved.

I know, it sounds lovely ... it sounds effortless.  But ... but what? Sitting in the discomfort of being comfortable, contented, happy with the simple things. It's a new character trait I'm trying on. Growing into. It will take time.  Well, that's about all I've got: time and opportunity to keep practicing.

happiness is ... (post-break edition)

 These moments together ...

It is easy to slide back into well-established grooves ... as Cowgirl gets older, she is quick to retreat to her room to listen to music, draw or read and it is easy for me to busy myself with dinner prep, the mail or any of the quotidian tasks that tend to overpower one's sense of priorities.  Slowing down helps to provide space and perspective: what really matters in this moment? A washed and sorted pile of laundry? Or the last minutes of sunlight and together time disguised as a new project?

Tomorrow we will sew our new prayer flags.  I don't believe in limiting myself to the number of prayers released into the world, do you?

No, I believe in maximizing the opportunities for giving voice to our hopes, our prayers,  and I definitely seek out opportunities to maximize more sunshine in my world. The brightest, warmest light? This smile ... it never fails to melt my heart ...

Watching her grow into the brave, trusting, adventurous girl that I first knew as a babe in my arms now skating away from me and into the world brings both happiness and no small amount of mama fear for bruised knees, bruised heart.  

But I trust in the foundation we've been building and I lean heavily upon the hope that she knows that love, comfort, support and safe haven wait for her and welcome her home. Always.

mother Christmas (holiday giveaway)

Love is in the details.

This is something my mother exemplified.  She was not an overtly demonstrative person: she would not heap words of affection upon you nor would she be constantly hugging or kissing you.   

Much to Cowgirl's chagrin, I am very different in this respect from my mother. I am wildly verbal and physical in my love. If I wore lipstick, Cowgirl would be perpetually smeared from head to toe in holly berry red.  I am both a toe nibbler and cheek pincher, and I can (and do) say I love you in four other languages. 

No, my mother did not shout her affections.  She quietly demonstrated her love and care through attention to detail and consistent presence.  She always said "I love you" at the end of our phone calls and she always greeted me with a quick peck on the lips (our family falls into the lip kissing versus cheek kissing camp). Her love was quiet, but it went deep.

My mother was the best gift giver.  It wasn't just that she gave me the gifts I asked for;  more often than not, she gave me the gifts I didn't know to ask for ... the gifts that I would not have imagined to be mine.  She did this by paying close attention.  She would remember a comment I made about a robe in a shop window and months later, it would appear wrapped and under the tree.  She excelled in slipping items to shop clerks when my back was turned, sneaking  the gift home and tucking it away until the time came for her to surprise and delight me.

When I was very little, I desperately wanted these Country Mouse, City Mouse play house sets I saw in the F.A.O. Schwartz catalog.  That Christmas I received both.  But not the store bought ones (overpriced and bland) -  she made me the two houses herself! She decorated the insides with wallpaper, carpet, doll furniture, and tiny aprons for each mouse. I loved those houses until they fell apart.

Another year, she made me my own Little House on the Prairie Doll ...

complete with a wardrobe of dresses, bonnets,nightgowns and quilt she sewed herself ... 

and little shoes!

In the past few years, it was my turn to surprise my mother with unexpected gifts, especially at Christmas time.  Her stocking seemed to be the fattest as I filled it with fun little treasures and pleasures. Nothing fancy, but what I remembered she loved.

These past few weeks I have been drifting through my days.  Slowly, slowly I am easing myself back in.  I had the pleasure to create a set of prayer flags for a woman expecting her first child.   She shared with me her intention for the coming year Is Trust.  Like my mother, I try my best to tease out the meaningful through attention to details.

As I sat at my mother's sewing machine, it struck me as wildly fitting I was working with the intention  of trust as I return to my daily activities and my work. 

I've created my own life, but it was nurtured and supported by the constant love and attention of my mother. I never questioned her being there for me.  Her love and her belief in my abilities, mentored me in the experience of Trust.  Not just in her love, but trust in myself.  In turn, I hope I can do the same for my daughter.   

To honor my mother's memory this holiday season, I want to hear more stories about our mothers. How did your mother convey her love and care to you?  What magical memories come to mind when you think about the holiday season and how did your mother feed that magic?  Perhaps yours is a memory not about your biological mother, but about someone mothering you in a deep and rich way.  I would love to celebrate those stories as well.

To celebrate the spirit of perfect gifts, I am giving away a deck of Awakening to Your Divine Self Oracle Cards.  

This deck contains 44 beautiful images created by 39 artists from around the globe, including yours truly.  Each card offers a message of loving wisdom and quiet inspiration, messages gleaned from each artist's conversation with her deeper self. For every story shared in the comments section below, I will enter your name into the drawing. If you would rather submit your story via email, you can contact me at: Lishofmann88(at)gmail(dot)com.  I also have decks to sell ($29.95 includes shipping to US and Canada; other artists selling the cards can be found HERE)

I will pick a name and announce a winner next Sunday (December 21). So be sure I have a way to contact you should you win!


My wisdom card in the deck?

Trust, of course!

reset button

One of the most potent tools I've gained from a yoga practice is working with intentions.  When I would teach classes, I would instruct the participants to first ground themselves in the Now moment (what is true for you ... right now?) and awakening and relaxing around all that is. I often overlook the energetic backpack I've been lugging around all day and when I take the time to pause, I am always surprised to discover it is there, weighing me down.  But rather than lapse into resistance or frustration over why I've been a pack mule for stress and worry, I can offer myself gentle care and acknowledgement Yes, you ARE tired ... look what you've been shouldering.

Next, I would instruct the class to create an intention for their practice - for the next hour and a half of their day.  An intention can be some quality or aspect of one's being that we want to open up to or cultivate, say presence or peacefulness or ease. An intention can also be a heartfelt wish for oneself or another or the world and one can offer up the fruits of one's practice for another.  In this way, the actions become prayerful.

Either way, an intention is a means of aligning oneself to the present moment.  Intentions are not goals, which are future based. Intentions clearly anchor us in the Now.  How do I want to BE in this process?  What do I want to express through my thoughts/words/deeds/actions?  Throughout practice, we would take a pause to reconnect with our intentions because - as you probably well know - the mind quickly wanders off into the future or the past.  I know I stumble into goal setting and measuring my progress against some future/yet to be known outcome. Goals are all fine and good, but they represent the very end point of a journey and to focus merely upon the goal is like putting blinders on: too often I overlook unexpected opportunities or gifts because I am fixated upon the outcome. 

All this is to say ... when I find myself off balance, thrashing through my day, frustrated, tangled up in disappointment (which is really to be ensnared by expectations) that is a good sign I've forgotten all any intentions I may have set for myself. All I have to do to hit the reset button is to pause, then reconnect.

Whatever I do, I try to set an intention. I want to stay awake for the entire journey.  Because I change throughout the process, so too my intentions may shift and adapt and change.  But that is the beauty of this practice: it allows me to unfold mindfully within the actions of my life. 

There are many ways to work with intentions: writing in a journal, creating a Vision board, establishing mindful moments of prayer or meditation, rituals, altars, a word stamped on a piece of jewelry, a tattoo, mandalas, art journaling to name a few favorites of mine. teaser: I share one of my year-long practices next week.   

Because I like to connect with Nature and the changing cycles and seasons, I've been creating prayer flags as a way of working with my intentions.  Giving form to the values, ideals, qualities that I want to cultivate within myself, in my work, and in my life. 

As I prepare for autumn - my favorite season! - I know I will be hunkering down and tending to some deep work ... The Big Project to name one ... and all the things that too easily fall by the wayside in the busyness of summer.  I want to begin ready, with my intentions in place and my A-Team ready to roll with me.  

I am wanting to cultivate and open to trust, deep listening, love ... 

creative abundance, connection, expanded vision ...

strength, grounded nurturance, and magic ...

always, always magic (along with pie ... two good things!)  

family anniversary - 8 years celebrated with a cherry pie

I am ready to roll up my sleeves but I am also ready to sink into it all.  Relax and receive.  Add to and witness magic unfolding in each moment. 

Join me in working with intentions & practice in The Gift of Practice starting September 22.