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Miles has recently become wild about fried eggs. Such simple little pleasures! He is seen here sharing his breakfast with his Shakespeare festival dragon, who shares M's love of eggs. Note the careful sopping of the yolk with a bit of dry toast.
"Everyone needs beauty as well as bread, places to play in and pray in where Nature may heal and cheer and give strength to body and soul alike." --John Muir
We spent the weekend in Escondido with some dear friends of many moons. Miles thought he was in sandbox heaven. He bravely put his feet at the water's edge and watched his Daddy swim out to sea and play in the waves. I wondered if he thought of the day when he could join him.
I have not a drop of water in my entire astrological chart, while B is a Pisces and the salty mother cradles him lovingly in her powerful arms. I seem to bite the bottom when I go out usually getting pummeled by an element that agrees with me better from the shoreline. I don't like seaweedy tendrils tickling my legs. I'd rather face a bear at twenty feet than know there is a shark a mile offshore. I can be seen under a big hat or umbrella at the beach, hugging the sand and a book while my boys frolic in the foam- and it suits me just right.
I love to hear the ocean, especially at night. The soothing sound of the waves makes me dream of mermaids and moonlight.
A couple of weeks ago I bought a blouse for work at a shop in town. The woman who rang me up entered the amount I'd given her into the register incorrectly and struggled to find a way to clear her machine and start over.
She was an older woman, about 60 maybe, and she began to say things like, "I'm showing my age..." and then gave way to "I feel so stupid", while hanging her head and calling for the young, male manager to come and clear out her entry.
I started having a fantasy there in the store about the dialogue she might be having inside of herself in the midst of all of this-one of unkind, unloving sentiments and old tapes of how unworthy she is as a person. She was falling into a shadow right in front of me, that comfortable place of meanness and helplessness that we see in some parent/child relationships.
It seems that some of us carry the voice of shame, probably our parent's voice originally, and keep it on the ready for when we make (what we think are) stupid mistakes. Then when we really fuck something up, we revert back to the vulnerable child who "just can't get it right". Our collective unconscious seems to have little room for mistakes-culturally, we support the notion that we must "get it right" or else we're unworthy.
When I do this to myself or I see others doing it, I try to see it as an assault on the soul. It was an assault on our souls when it was being done to us originally. It would seem that simple little mistakes have such power to take a person back to the wound, to our core, where shame lies waiting. I could relate to her state, because I have at times forgotten my worth, spoken to my core in a shaming voice and lacked love for myself.
Humans are hurting everywhere. It shows up in the most unexpected places like dress shops, at the office and on playgrounds. How wonderful it would be if we could raise our children so that LOVE and KINDNESS waits for them in their core. Then, when the psyche takes a trip back there to reflect and check in during times of struggle, the self could comfort the soul and give it the balm it needs to go on.
When a coyote gets her leg caught in a trap, she doesn't waste precious resources chastising herself. Giving up on herself is not an option. She gets right to the business of saving her hide by taking care of her soul-even if it costs her the leg. She knows her worth and she knows she can release that which holds her captive and in pain. The process of chewing off the stuck part is the ugly reality, it takes time, tenacity, and a willingness to limp until she can adapt to her new way of being.
This is a hornworm, found on one of our fresno pepper plants, which for years I thought was called a tomato worm. I think because when I was very small I saw one on a tomato plant and it made a giant impression on me. That is my dad's thumb in the photo; the monster was at least 4" long. I think they're so pretty, but they are so destructive and can eat through dozens of leaves in a day. Sometimes little eggs attach to the backs of these worms, laid by a braconid wasp. The larvae feed on and eventually munch the horny host to death. They grow into beneficial wasps as adults and prey on many other pests.
The dark side of gardening!
I feel myself making a seasonal transition, one in which I want to create more with my hands. Between gardening, writing, housemomming and massaging, my hands are already taking a beating! What do I have to lose?
On Saturday afternoon I packed all of my camping necessities into the car and headed up to the mountains without my boys for some rest. Being sick for so many weeks has left all of us tired and I feel like a frayed thread at times, ready to break off and blow away.
Blessed to have a husband who coparents like he received a degree in it at Harvard, it is easy for me to be away for a night knowing that Miles is in capable hands. What isn't easy is declaring that if I don't take the time, I will continue responding to the gong of demand until I fall down and crumple in a heap.
In the spirit of getting much better at predicting the need to go home to my inner self, (as if my life depended on it), I try to plan for outings to healing places that bring me peace. Sometimes it can be in another room of the house with the door closed, and other times it must be "away". Before Miles, I was the queen of retreats, some more than a week long-but now, I go when and for how long I can.
At 8,000 feet I pitched my tent, lined it with my big elkskin, hung up my dreamcatcher, unrolled my bag, and snuggled into a big down jacket for the evening.
Some friends came up and we had a dutch oven cookout, one of the best dinners I've ever had. I went to clear some cobwebs out of my dusty old body and get some rest; feeling full of good food has a way of satiating my soul and sprinkling a healing mist on my dry, crackly spirit.
The full moon woke me up many times in the night, and so did vivid dreams of critters stopping by: bears, mountain lions, a stag-I love visits from the animal kingdom whether real or in dreamtime.
From inside of my tent with my zippered window open, I took this picture of the moon.
Aaahhoooooooooo!
I have some essential things that must come along with me when I camp. I consider myself a beginner, though I've loved going since I was a kid. I've learned a few valuable tricks from the best.
Can't live withouts are:
*Cast iron cookware. Amazon sells Lodge, but my favorites are the ones I've found in junky antique stores: My dutchie with steam lid was scored for $25 years ago, my 8" skillet for $8 and 10" griddle for $14. Lids are a must for open fire cooking. Foil will do when desperate. I only scour them with soap once when I get them home, then season with crisco and cook for an hour on 350. I only clean them with boiling water and a scrubby after that. I remember grandma cleaning hers with sand on the creekbank where we camped one summer.
*A good glove for lifting pots and pans out of the fire-leather or something really heat resistant.
*A tuque with ear flaps. High wind in my ears makes me cranky and want to hide out in my tent.
*Outdoor reading such as The Journey Home by Edward Abbey (thanks Len), Maiden Voyages edited by Mary Morris, Walden or anything by John Muir. I also carry a field guide for birds and plants along with me.
*Egg protector. It sounds silly until you find your egg carton soggy in the ice chest, or worse-broken eggs washing around in there.
*Acrylic cup, plate and bowl + real flatware. No use throwing away a bunch of plastic or paper unless it's uncoated and can be used for firestarter.
*Good wine and plenty of SmartWater.
Camping buddy and Mountain man, Len Alberti.
We enrolled Miles in swim lessons when he was 18 months old because we thought it would bond him to water early, help him overcome water fears and be useful should he ever fall into a water hole or swimming pool. The first few were a bit rough, but he made progress each time, enough so that we continued to show up on Saturday mornings. His daddy is the aqueous Pisces in the family, so it makes sense that they take the lessons together. As you can see above, he is totally comfortable getting his head wet and he even goes underwater with ease.
Here he is jumping off of a big foam hippo into dad's arms. This is supposed to teach the babies that there is an edge to water, that they can't just step out and feel support under their feet. He's been to eight sessions and this is most animated he has been with this exercise. Each time he goes he enjoys it more than the last!
He and daddy are very proud of the work they've done together. The series is over and we think we'll enroll him again, maybe in the Fall, to keep his gills fresh.
