Pink Coyote

honestly

The scent of early Fall has settled onto the mountain-my favorite time of year. The sunlight comes through the trees in a certain hazy way, unlike in other seasons.

I’d begun to make this post when my screen suddenly asked if I wanted to navigate away from it and when I clicked “cancel” it took me back to the page I’d just visited. So I’m here, in crappy ole Word, bitching silently about the unchangeable…

Why is it that when I write with honesty and then try to recreate it, I simply cannot do it? I know part of my resistance is because I am a stubborn mule, bitterly kicking my way through tasks if they don’t go as planned.

Breathing now. I was meant to make a different point, perhaps.

I wanted to tell you about loss and how when someone I love experiences it, how helpless I feel to comfort them. I wanted to tell you that my choice to be a bodyworker was born of wanting to help people nurse their pain. I wanted to tell you that I get confused and self conscious about how my well-meaning gestures will be received, if they are enough or too much. I wanted to comfort you and tell you that whatever you are going through, you will be able to heal. But that sometimes I don’t believe my own words. Maybe because I have unhealed wounds of my own.

I just wanted to tell you all of that.

miles to go

WHY AM I AWAKE? Perhaps my subconscious is aware that six a.m. is the best time for blogging. I'm still not sure. And I'm not even sure I am awake... I can say that I feel like the mythical Mary looking for a manger to have the Christ child in. Nesting has taken on an entirely new meaning. And I'm not joking, I don't know where the little man is going to see his first glimpse of the world outside Wombsville. The home we are moving off the mountain for is likely not going to be ready for us for another year. Hence all the gypsy comments. Sensible people would rent a house in town until time comes to move again-not us! We will find a way to make our son's first year feel like one long and luxurious camping trip because that is Campbell Style. Note tongue in cheek. Though I must admit I have been having fun anticipating alternative living, just a little. The property we will live on is two and a half acres, perfect for a yurt! Have dining room table, will travel. I can hardly bear to think of life without art supplies. My mission is to find or create a structure in which I can store my precious tubs of molding paste and collage papers and all of their cohorts so that I am able to access them. I'm envisioning a party tent (hey, that reminds me of a dream I had about an elephant emerging from a tent during my four hour sleep-yikes!) but that may be crazy. Following Keri's suggestion to think about (or make lists as we are wont to do) those required material things we can't live without or would take along with us to a 200 sq ft domicile in the country, here are my top five: *Nesting Blanket (nothing slips by me, Christine) *Moleskine/Pens (Pilot G-2 retractable 05) *Field Guide to animals and plants *Cast Iron Skillet *Baby sling Chocolate is a runner-up. Wishing us all an easier day today.

swords and galoshes

Up early again this morning without just cause.

I answered an email from laughingleo about self-care and nurture as it applies to letting go and trusting and here is what I said to her:

"okay, let's see....self nurture to me means that i take care of my inner parts-listening, being in tune with nature and my body, noticing, crediting my intuition, AND allowing myself to fearlesslyl melt down when the time comes cannot be overlooked, because it is a vital part of how i work through things in their final stages. i think i'm better at nurturing myself when i am not trying to control things. which connects to the letting go and trusting (my usual word for this is surrender) part. since i tend to gravitate toward controlling outcomes and feelings and things like that (not limited to environment, etc), i will generally get to a point that feels like i'm giving up, but really i'm indulging in self care which is surrendering the whole situation to whoever's business it really is. but it always seems to work in a circle for me-i have to at least try to control it first, THEN i remember to surrender it. its just my wacked out process i guess. you know, crazy ole me..."

What I realized once I pressed send was that we, collectively as women, often do not honor the "meltdown", a sacred part of our healing process. I used to cheat myself out of that part of my own cycle because it doesn't really look that pretty and people stare at me fearfully or think me insane. Granted, I'm not really melting down in public or anything, but even in the presence of my husband the dreaded dragon SHAME pokes its head up and says "You've blown it now!". My meltdowns are usually characterized by a fair bit of cursing and fear naming, and some arm waving. But once I round the bend back to surrender, I am rid of the fear, the cursing subsides and something usually makes me laugh really, really hard.
If I stand back and take a look at this, I don't feel shame, I feel relief. My loving partner is Brave and holds space for me to do this with him, as do a few friends. I am so grateful to be able to walk into the murky water with those few special people so I can come out laughing.
To punctuate what I feel about self-nurturing, I believe that shame undermines our most vital processes. How can we fully experience trust if we cannot complete the cycle? I am not implying that in order to be complete, we all have to have meltdowns. But I am saying that whatever complete looks like to us, we are fully entitled to go there and to ask someone we feel safe with to hold our hand.
I'm becoming okay with my new life as a gypsy with a newborn baby in another month. Dragons be damned, I will no doubt have to wade knee deep into those feelings a few more times in order to get complete on this one.

sensations

Cactus blooming two parcels down from our new home site. June. Good morning to me and to the squawking blue jays in the pines beyond me. And to the sun who is taking his sweet time waking up today... The past few days have not been reeking with abundant creativity or philisophical revelations. I only wish! Rather they have been spent ironing out details of new life in four weeks. Changing out cars (I no longer need the gas guzzling 4wd if I'm leaving the mountains), having this house inspected, appraised, finding a new residence, packing up the baby's freshly washed clothes and sorting them by age/size-the list continues. I kind of feel like a gypsy. Looking at it that way feels good anyway. I got up at five this morning mostly because I was hungry, but also because I wanted to drink in the smell of my beloved forest. I can't describe the scent satisfactorily, but to try I'd have to say it smells of pine needles, sage, damp compost and butterscotch. The smell is most fragrant in the early morning and about an hour or two after the sun goes down. It is the smell of summer camp, which I attended here at Camp Condor as a preteen and received my first kiss. The smell is one that always feels as if I'm experiencing it for the first time. I puff my lungs in and out, wanting to bottle it and knowing that when it's not there, I've forgotten exactly what it's like. A desperate feeling comes over me when I realize this-like when I misplace my wedding ring. I want to know it is there every day-to be reassured by it. I wonder how my new environment can compare to this...*sniff*.

holding on

It is PERFECTLY cloudy today. I see giant white beings in a dark blue sky and it is smellin' like rain. I don't know where to begin with my thoughts and process-so much is happening around me now-and so very fast. I feel as if I'm turning in circles, all of my world blurred into a steamy spiral. Now that our house is in the process of selling and the new house will not be ready for maybe six months or more (who can know these things?) my search for a safehaven for my family and impending new arrival has been turned up to warp. Desperation is about to set in, and all of my creative energy is being funneled into asking myself what I really want to see manifest. It seems in my life that there is always so much to consider. I try really hard to keep things simple, but no matter how hard I try, there are unknowns at every crossroad. Having chosen to keep many furry friends who are a huge priority to us, their safety and welfare must always be considered. My own sanity can't be overlooked-we have a "when pixie's happy everybody's happy" sort of policy around here. That may sound indulgent, but just come for a visit when I am sorting through the rubble and you will quickly understand why this works. Relocating into the great unknown, not knowing where the new tot will be in his first days, wanting to provide security for all of us-significant B and I are feeling a bit stretched at the seams. When I face these great transitions, and I have done so a few times, the recurring message from my magical help within is always to TRUST. It may seem funky as hell today, but likely tomorrow will be clearer. I think I can hold on until then.

what idiosyncrasies?

Whose bright idear was this again? Five of them? *I overthink the process of everything-I want each act to be most efficient. Ex. I'm going downstairs to do the laundry and I remember that Blue rubbed her nose on the sliding window. Even though my hands are full, I go under the sink and get the spray cleaner to carry down with me so I can kill two birds. I'm the queen bird killer. This is left over from my waitressing days: never leave a table empty handed. If you can take care of something else while you're at it, do it! *I'm a natural contradictor. If you say it's black, my brain is going to search for any way it can be seen as white. I will take all possibilities into consideration. Plus I'm always looking for a way to promote the underdog and I am the official Devil's Advocate. Que annoying! *I like nuts in everything. Cake, ice cream, brownies, chocolate bars, muffins, bread. Significant B calls them speedbumps. Is this why I never bake? *I can't stand it when people let water run at the sink. If you turn on the water and walk away, I will be right behind you to turn it off. Wasting anything drives me insane. I recycle EVERYTHING. Plastic bottles with questionable water still in them can be used to water a plant! *I am almost always late, and I hate waiting on people! What a horrible combination! This exercise is for the birds! Thanks to Feisty and Swirly for inspiring....

home is where the art is

Collage 8/11/05

The collective manifestation worked. An offer was made on our house and we opened escrow today. How quickly things can change just when I felt I was going to be here until next Spring...

So I am now in a place of limbo, (those of you who know me know that this is a veritable purgatory for me), waiting for the emotional reality to settle in that I will be leaving this place, moving on to another and having my baby boy that very week. Searching for rentals in the San Joaquin Valley this time of year is going to be so fun! The reasons we are leaving the woods and moving to the valley below are so many: we'd like to be closer to family, we are overhauling our finances, resources are more plentiful there, etc. All of the logical stuff makes sense.

What is odd to me is the fact that I have the unconscious ability to block out how I feel about a thing until I feel stable and safe enough to handle the reality of it. It is not my mind who decides when it is okay to accept and begin to deal. I think it must be my intuitive senses or my body or something. Whatever the case, I am aware that I am here: in limbo, waiting for my feelings to make themselves known.

In the meantime, I'm having quite the creative burst. I spent all of yesterday collaging, playing with molding paste, gold dust, 3D paint. When I think about creating a safe haven within myself, it reminds me of so many things. Like approaching the birth of my son. Using hypnotherapy, I am working with creating a safe place in my head and my body so that no matter where I'm at or how frightened I might feel, I will be able to counter the fear with a built-in safety mechanism. Making art is the same thing. Whenever I feel a little threatened or ungrounded, as if something might be taken from me that I cherish, making art brings me back to a place where I can know myself again and confidently be at home (and at peace) wherever I'm at.

returning

Yikes! I was gone two days longer than I expected to be and was promptly kicked out of my house this morning so it could be shown to potential buyers. Keep your fingers xd for me! I've lit my green candle of abundance in the hopes that we receive an offer. I've had to surrender even further into letting go of this dreamy home in order to clear the way for someone new to take it and hopefully appreciate it as much as I do! In the meantime, my weekend was spent busybodying around my parents ranchita, helping mom with a little home interior facelift. Nesting is getting the better of me. I'm quite tired and nappish today, hoping to create some time to collapse in a heap with three dogs and two cats and recover. A question that has come up for me this weekend is "How important is it to speak your mind?" Joan Didion once said "I find speaking one's mind [as a virtue] pretty overrated, in that it usually turns out to be a way of aggrandizing the speaker at the expense of the helpless listener." Seems when I was younger, speaking my mind was a very important mechanism for finding my identity and my place in the world. Now, however, I hold many of my most intimate thoughts private and personal. What do you think? When has speaking your mind been imperative? To whom do you do this with most? Be well today! Oh! And Happy Birthday to Barbara Anne-you friscy lady.

the other side

Good morning from Pine Mountain, Aug 5. Today the forecast is isolated thundershowers. I love it! Though Thursdays are my day of contemplation, a day of storms presents a hall pass to do whatever I want. I must say I don't see any clouds... Yesterday's soul conundrum left me in a black or white closet. Choose one outlook, and go down fighting. Choose the other and exhibit monk-like grace surrender tactics. Neither was right for me. What I found on my journey to the swamp hag was that there is a middle road. I will learn what this means only by experiencing it, and in the meantime I am determined not to be myopic. In my attempt to handle the dilemma, I realized I was disconnecting from my feelings entirely. This presented a far greater problem than my original matter at hand! Through setting an intention, praying, and toning, I created a reconnection to my body that is allowing me to be present in the unknown. This all settles very well with me. A strange clarity exists though I don't know what the outcome will look like in the end. No matter what, I will stay connected to my intention. Again with the elusiveness. I'll share when I can.

Now to recover my sense of bloody humor, which takes a vacation when I recede into psychological torpor.

creating openings part two

Today is a vulnerable day. It is the day to face those things inside that I have been allowing myself to be distracted from. I am disconnected from myself and am ready to reconnect and experience vibrancy again in some way. I believe we all have a particular "business" with the universe. Kind of like our lesson that has to be learned over and over and sometimes doesn't get easier with time, as one would expect. It is becoming clearer that my business with the universe is about control, and letting the most difficult things just be difficult. And then learning how not to take them personally. Sometimes I observe things in the world or in my environment that make me feel so uncomfortable or angry- like when intimate loved ones betray each other or the way people can scarf down food with no regard for where it came from or who labored to bring it to them. This usually leads to judgement. A trap for myself, really. My issue today is about judging myself. You see, even if I have no control over the outcome of a situation, I could choose to allow myself to feel like I've failed (me and another) even though I am not responsible for the outcome. I apologize for being elusive. I hope to clarify this "issue" later, when I have had more time to work through it. The operative concept here is that I have a choice in the matter. Enter ego. In the spirit of creating vast openings, I am recognizing that I create suffering when I apply pressure to myself to control those things I cannot. For me, to open is to let go. To surrender-to hold tight to an idea or an expectation is to suffocate it with ego and leave no room for change or positive evolution. I am off to stare down that fear that threatens to leave me closed and feeling fail. Down, down to visit the dreaded slimy swamp hag with oozing sores and maggots in her hair. I wish someone prettier had the answers, but it is not to be.

cereal for dinner

This picture of my eight-year old Hank is for Keri who declared her love for him today.

It's cereal for dinner night. Add it to the list of strange rituals in the coyote household. I've already begun the festival with the old standby EnviroKidz Organic Peanut Butter Panda Puffs with whole milk. Significant B will likely choose Weatabix with bananas on top in a soymilk bath. That's what I'm guessin. It's one of those nights.
What's your guilty pleasure?

the almighty woman

Yup, that would be my stomach. And the chiminea and assorted rocks and stuff on my deck. Yesterday I attended a rather auspicious occasion in my own honor. I don't quite know how to describe the INCREDIBLE nature of it. It is called a Blessingway, a version of the traditional Navaho ceremony initiating a woman into motherhood. At one point, I had fourteen, count 'em! Fourteen women brushing my hair, and massaging, fanning or painting on my body as I lay on a giant comfy sheepskin rug. Not since Cleopatra have women been honored in this way. Our culture has no real protocol besides the over gifty baby shower (which certainly serves its purpose of outfitting one for motherhood) to HELP us become mothers. Through the wisdom and support of other women, I feel so much better about my upcoming role as mommy. I just have to shout out to these ladies and say what an incredible gift and what big love you have for me. I am the luckiest woman in the world today. Seriously, words CANNOT express my heart's gratitude. If you know a person who is having a baby, entering womanhood, getting married, etc. there is nothing better you can do than to honor her with a rite of passage, in my opinion. Here are just some of the things that went on: *Purification with rose water (so deliciously feminine) and sage. *A scrapbook was assembled with letters to my baby boy about ME. *An ash tree was hung with wishes for him made by each person in attendance. *A half hour of *indulgent* pampering of my holy body. *Beads were brought by each person and strung to make an amulet for me to clutch when labor comes. *Seated in a circle, prayers of good health, strength, fearlessness and positive energy were shared. *A feast for the goddesses concluded the event, complete with booby and belly cake! WOW. How do you connect with other women, I ask you? What do you yearn to manifest that is different but has the power to enrich your experiences? Can you be vulnerable enough to participate or be the center of an adoring circle? BIG LOVE and AAAAHHHHOOOOOOOOOOOOO! from the Coyote today.