horse play (and finally, friday!)

I can only laugh at myself and wonder at the crazy choices I sometimes make. To borrow a favorite german expression: I have a bird (in my head) [meaning, there is enough room in my head for a bird to fly around]

In a little over a week, I head for Bali. I know ... no whining here ... but lots of preparations to tend to and the packing! oh my god, the packing! (I have a little problem with making wardrobe decisions ... and book and journal and iPod decisions ....)

Then there is Cowgirl's birthday which is one week from today and not to put pressure on myself, but somehow I've decided I will make her a quilt ... even though I cannot sew or cut straight and I have never really made a quilt before and I have been making it up as I go along. I discovered long ago that it is better to have a dream imperfectly realized but manifested than to have it perfect but ever a dream.

I still have the backing and batting to tackle. May require copious cups of coffee or chocolate before I am done.

Meanwhile, I somehow ended up with a trunk full of saddles requiring repairs. Problem is, the nearest tack shop that will tackle these antiques is a 40 minute drive over to Iowa. So in a rainstorm, I headed off this morning (and thereby gave up precious quilt-making or Bail-packing time!) 

But saddles are a priority now. Beau has a buddy ... his name is Buck. 

Buck is a beautiful Dun - you can see a bit of the dorsal stripe 

We spent a glorious afternoon wandering around the pastures, fending off grasshoppers, acclimating behinds to worn saddles ...

And getting to know the many barnyard denizens ...

It was a family day and that is what it is really all about, isn't it? Time together making memories.

There is much to tend to, but I try to keep priorities straight.  Slowing down, being present for each other, honoring connection and honoring what we both love.

So maybe packing won't be so difficult? Pencils, pens, watercolors, sketch journal, bathing suit and sandals. Check check and check! 

On my must-do list before flying off to Bali is completing my Earth Alchemy card and written post to be sent off to Mindy Tsonas. I am honored and excited to contributing to her upcoming session Inner Alchemy: Earth Coven. Take a look at the amazing roster of presenters ... including my Bali-guide and inspiration in all things sewing (and crazy-making) Em Falconbridge. 

I am excited for this session as I all about finding myself some grounding guidance. And this deck will be very special for me as I am committing to sketching and painting all of my cards. 

Isn't there something about a frog in the hand being worth more than two in a pond?

 

abiding ... (finally, friday)

Patience is not my default setting. Yet everything seems to be conspiring to force me to practice patience (which means bouts of raving impatience followed by the exhaustion of temporary and grudging surrender.) I don't believe there is some script I am following, so much as life offers me the opportunity to create meaning out of otherwise random and indifferent occurrences. I am in charge of choosing which pieces I will use for this jigsaw puzzle. Case-in-point, observing a baby grackle bird being fed by its mother reminded me I too must remember to receive nourishment and more importantly relax my hustle to bring it to me.  Beautiful message, right? 

Well, a day or two later, Cowgirl came to tell me a baby grackle was caught in a bush. Or it was hanging dead in a bush, she was a little uncertain and I immediately told her to leave it alone. My experience has been when I rush in to "help" I often bring about the very outcome I am hoping to avoid. Now, it did pass through my mind "What the hell message is that about trust and support?" But quickly I let it drop. I mean, it may not be the same baby bird (but probably is) and it might not be dead but temporary stuck. Which is fitting for how I have felt these past few months (stuck, not hanging dead although the image of the hanged man in the tarot deck has been with me a lot lately.)

So I let all notions of ill-omens drop and continued through my day.  The next day I went out and looked for signs of the baby bird and except for a little poo, there was nothing there. So either he was stuck, but freed himself (the version of the story I'm going with) or an animal in the night cleaned up the crime scene which has a poetic message of the circularity of life in there somewhere.

Where am I going with all of this? Honestly, I'm not sure why this story bubbled up today. I admit being in a space where there is much on my mind, but lacking the words or the desire or need to excavate any meaning. Which is perhaps the point: sometimes there is no message, no meaning. Sometimes you have a leaky dishwasher that floods under the cabinets and floors and you don't realize this until the mold starts to grow and then you discover a mighty black mold situation on your hands (and in your kitchen) and now you dance around a giant hepa-filter fan that blasts the pictures off of the walls never mind the sound and the floors get ripped up and the cabinets emptied and no dishwasher so drying dishes stacked over the remaining counter top space that isn't cluttered by the contents of the cabinets now homeless and it is such a giant mess that forces you to either descend into full depression or laugh your ass off at the way life is stranger than fiction and no one could write this without it sounding hokey but it is all true and it IS my life. Right now. 

So I give up and relax into this cluttered flow. I stop trying to make sense of my life right now and instead decide to start living it again. Baking pies (in disaster kitchen no less)

and sewing Owl pillows (because owls started the whole chain of events in my reconstructed history)

 and joining Cowgirl at the neighborhood pool (oh yes, school got out a week ago? Isn't that crazy?) 

and I even accepted that our kitchen will probably stay this way until sometime in August as that is the earliest date a contractor can fit us in.

Accept. Surrender. Relax into what is ...

And then marvel when out of the blue (honest truth) a contractor stops at our house because he was the one who had installed all the wood molding and shelving and he always liked our house and thought of it as unique and now is looking to build his own home and was wondering who did the design or if we designed it ourselves and hey,he saw us home and he had a moment to stop ...

And now he may be the one to help us repair our kitchen and we are to contact him in week and he even sees a way to repair the cabinets without having to rip everything out. So we have a contractor and he has our spare set of home plans.  

Circularity of life ... 

Trusting and waiting for whatever is forming out there to make its way here while I abide in my own slow simmering so I am ready to meet it. Which is to say, meet Life.

Meanwhile ... I keep my eyes, ears, and heart open for the next piece I wish to add to this puzzle of mine.

sacred shit ... (finally, friday)

I kid not ... it had been one of those weeks (that was quickly turning into two weeks and showed no signs of losing steam) 

let's see ... I hurt my back, then I was sick with my first cold in years, then we discovered a leak in our dishwasher that turned out to have deposited water under the adjacent cabinets which wicked up the moisture and began to rot and mold(!) and sun apparently went on a walk-about leaving us with cold, rainy, damp days (and days ... and days ...)

The going was rough my friends, and the only option left to me that held any crumbs of hope ...

the horses ... or more precisely, the therapeutic work that is cleaning stalls a.k.a., shoveling shit. (actually, the poop isn't so odious, it it uncovering and drying out the noxious pee spots ... some of these horses excel in hiding dribbles and puddles under seemingly pristine bedding. But I am a master pee dowser!) 

This place has been my salvation. Just one morning (and many, many many buckets of sacred poop later) and I not only feel Spring returning to my weary soul, but signs abound that indeed, vitality and hope are in my cards and in my future.

 

I am a believer once again. Oh, there was a moment I had my car keys in my hand, wild-eyed and frantic to escape (and I still might, renovations on the kitchen have not yet begun)  but the heaping dose of sunshine and horse love are enough to keep me going. For the time being. Fortunately, I can always run to the barn when things get rough and know there are friendly faces waiting for me. And stalls to muck. Always, stalls to muck! 

strange days ...

Every morning I come to my laptop, fingers hovering over the keyboard waiting for the words ... which seem shy or stubborn depending upon the mood of the moment ... and the moments have been moody of late.

Today I type because, well, it feels like a gesture of moving dirt away from my mouth ... of clearing something out of me even if it is only mental dust balls and emotional grime. As I sit here, the Husband is mowing the lawn while a dozen or more barn swallows swarm around and around the yard, apparently gobbling up insects disturbed by the mower, but the scene is reminiscent of something out of HItchcock's movie The Birds. Given the ominous feel of Spring prairie skies, the effect is unsettling.

I recently told a friend that I think I am being rewired at a cellular level and all I can do is drift through my days as energy is being diverted to this deeper, internal task.  I suppose it would be fair and okay to say I'm feeling a tad overwhelmed by it all, a little ... well, yes, okay ... depressed. 

My 95 year old aunt died earlier this week.  While not unexpected, the news had the impact of the final straw. I mean, really?! I think it is fair to say Death, move on now and give me a break. I know, Scorpio Moon and deeper lessons on the meaning of life through understanding death, but enough already! 

It is not surprising that on top of all of the emotional blows I've somehow strained my back and am wincing and moaning through my days and nights.  Then there are the severe storm warnings (we got off lightly with only 4 inches of rain in one evening; areas south of us are underwater) and toss on some crazy hormones and good times are being had over here my friends.

But I keep on truckin'. I keep turning my face towards the light ... planting seeds, starting my herb garden, baking (crazy how I ease grief through baking), and grabbing my camera. Returning to pictures is my way back in to noticing, looking intently, and living life prayerfully. 

There seems to be only two choices: to close myself off or to open and receive, to say "thank you" not to the losses but for the gains, for all the memories lived and shared, for all the opportunities that were taken, enjoyed and celebrated. If there is anything I've learned from my aching back (which always leads me back to my yoga practice) it is the understanding that I can hold both sorrow and joy, discomfort and ease, depression and play. 

I went to the barn yesterday, unable to muck out stalls but I could sweep the main corridor which meant I got to mingle with all the "residents."  It could be the lack of restful sleep, but it seemed to me each horse greeted me with tenderness and care. At each stall I seemed to be greeted by a warm muzzle breathing into my back and each time I stopped in my work to close my eyes and savor the warmth and the force of so much aliveness and vitality.

The most difficult griefs,

ones in which

we slowly open

to a larger sea, a grander

sweep that washes

all our elements apart.

(excerpt from The Shell by David Whyte) 

And so I putter on ... fumbling my way through these strange days, attempting to stay open, to trust my heart and to trust when I need to widen my perspective and when I need to lean closer in. I remind myself there is no manual for this ... no right way to grieve, no easy way to transition (into what? I'm still not sure!) and in fact the discomfort and the break downs are indications that change is afoot.  And being alive means being in process, continually evolving, changing, becoming.  I choose to embrace that ... Every.Day.As.Best.I.Can.

 

happiness is ... (sunshine edition)

... the sunshine waking me up before my alarm ... the robins serenading me as I run ... more and more warm days (mixed with cold and rainy, just to keep things interesting) ... the produce section of the market becoming more inviting (only weeks until Farmer's market!) hence a supper of roasted golden and red beets served over greens and lemon zest goat cheese on ciabatta buns. Is there anything more delightful than the smell of fresh lemon?  Mood lifter indeed!

All kinds of craziness happening over here ... Spring fever has taken hold and I've discovered a new passion:

Tie Dye!  Prepping for shibori in Bali next October.  

I might just be opening a scarf stall when I get back (how many scarves can I bring home through customs?  Hmm ....)

Finding the best medicine is trying new things. Learned that from Martha Beck - it is good for the brain and good for the creative soul.  What should I try next?  

Anything sunshine yellow and turquoise I'd say ...

finally, friday (and a Good one)

More often than not, it is the simple things that bring the greatest joy. 

 

Realizing that over the years, we have established our own traditions. For whatever reason, when I was a child my family didn't dye eggs.  Probably my mother thought it would be too much of a mess. So I am just as enthusiastic as Cowgirl when it comes to pulling out the Paas egg dye cups and mixing all the colors.

In a season of continual losses (I just learned a neighbor passed away last night) I am mindful of the choices available to me: fear or trust, regret or gratitude, clinging or letting go, despair or celebration.

Again and again, I find my practice consists of choosing to open, choosing hope, choosing love.

Happy Egg Moon, happy Easter!
 

Valentine (finally, friday ...)

I love the simple rituals ...

celebrating friendship, celebrating creativity ...

celebrating love in all the ways we experience it (dragons & paint of course!)

Happy Valentine's Day! It's going to be a busy weekend as Cowgirl tests for her Black Belt in martial arts on Saturday.  She's calm but this mama?  Thank goodness for the massive infusion of chocolate!  It's a whirlwind end to the year of the horse. I hope the year of the sheep - which trots in on February 19 - means slower pace, time to linger in the grass and bleating ...

Sheep year is time to heal after the chaos of 2014's Horse year. What is of value now is intimacy, family and close friendships. We can be more caring, kind and sensitive with each other. Develop a gentle heart, open to love and acceptance on all levels. Another theme of Sheep year is to express your creative side. Now is the time for art, creativity and cultivation of beauty. If you ever wanted to explore your creative side, this is your year. Do not give up, be pessimistic or become discouraged because Sheep can only move forward! This animal is unable to move backwards or sideways.

xo Lisa, Cowgirl & Moose