Pink Coyote

Macrobiotic Check In

This is officially week two of eating a primarily macrobiotic diet, so I'm wanting to share a few notes about what kind of an effect it's having on the family and our health.

First, I really can't believe how clean my body feels. I've done box cleanses and liquid fasts in the past and I haven't felt this sort of clean before. I've lost about 5 pounds unintentionally, which seems very quick. If I were at my pre-pregnancy weight, I think I might be freaking out a little bit. If I do hit that mark, then I may try to take in some more fats. What I actually think is happening is that my body and it's chemistry are falling into balance.

This is the 24th day since the bronchitis (stage 2) hit, and I'm finally feeling like the cough is drying up and losing it's power. My energy is coming back, and with the exception of the coughing jags in the morning and at night, I feel almost normal during the day.

I've decided to send back the other book and use only the Self-Healing Cookbook, by Kristina Turner. I LOVE this cookbook!! It has been a sacred tool in my hands since I decided to heal myself with food instead of going the western medical route. I'm also full of gratitude for friends who've made themselves available to answer my questions. Support is half of the healing equation, don't you think?

I began testing my ph about 10 days ago and it took two days of adding in alkalinizing foods to my diet before it corrected itself back to 7.0, I was acid at 6.0, so this is a very good step toward healing. Each day I put a little traditionally-fermented tamari soy sauce (or shoyu) on my steamed dark, leafy greens. I also eat a pinch or two of a pickled umeboshi plum (like a wet, japanese saladito) after one of my daily meals, and I also drink the Kukicha twig tea (made from the stems of green tea leaves, so a teensy bit caffeinated), which serves to alkalinize, as well.

Speaking of caffeine, I'd been off of coffee and even green tea at home since this thing began. Yet I'd been stopping in for chai lattes several times a week (black tea, milk AND sugar). I have a love affair with chai latte. It's my comfort drink and whatever is going on, I always feel soothed by it. I don't think I even realized the effect it was having on me, sadly. (Dear Chai Latte, I will find a healthier way back to you, I promise...)

I digress. Here is the most amazing thing of all. I haven't been experiencing any irritability or stress since I've been eating and drinking macro. I feel tired from the sickness and worn through from staying up with Ivy, who now has the cough the worst. But I'm not feeling that yin urgency, the frequent rush of frustration that comes with running hither and yon for two small ones and just chasing life in general.

I have to say that it's easier for me to palate warm vegetables than endless bowls of grains. So what I have been doing at times is adding my rice to the soup or eating millet at my breakfast cereal with a bit of rice milk in it and a tiny spoonful of maple syrup mixed in. I haven't yet been able to put tamari in my breakfast millet! I prefer cooked brown rice over millet at this point, but I'm trying to love millet as much. It's so cute, it really does deserve to be on my plate more.

Brandon is totally into it, so that makes it all so much nicer and easier. Here is some tamari and asparagus brown rice, somen noodles, and purple cabbage and carrot slaw that he made for us one night last week when I didn't feel up to cooking:

Next check-in, I'll be a bit more specific about what I'm eating and maybe include a bit of info from Kristina Turner's book. Tonite I'm trying a recipe for a carrot cookie, which I think might go well with the root soup and boy choy/bean dish we're having for dinner.

Healing is happening on many levels within myself and my family, and I love that I'm now eating in a way that feels supportive of that.

This concludes my macro update!

Medicine Wheel

 

While Miles and I played hooky from preschool on Friday, we made our way outdoors to the big basket of rocks that has been awaiting the perfect time for us to create our Medicine Wheel. We've been collecting rocks for years to be used in this project, picking up some at the beach and some in the mountains.

The rocks displayed at each of the four directions are of a specific color and I was picky about making sure these four were placed according to the colors that represent them. Miles chose all of the other rocks and heaved them into position as I instructed him from nearby, telling him a bit about what each stone and position teaches us. He seemed to really love learning about the wheel and took his time to choose a rock that seemed to fit.

Different peoples associate varying colors and meanings to the four directions, but I have come to know them in my own way based on my interactions with them, as well as other schools of thought, and based on the traditional teachings I've received. The oral histories of a tribe and their location also impacts the variations within the wheel.

East=Yellow, for the sun, Eagle, birth, illumination, the beginning of the journey.

South=Red, for fire, creativity, Coyote, the warmth of the earth, learning, material lessons.

West=Black, for the water, reflection, self-examination, Bear, emotions.

North=White, for the wisdom of the elders, the sacred circle of life, Buffalo, spirituality, rest.

I use the medicine wheel rather loosely, entering it at any place, any time, and working with the positions in it as things come up for me.

Today I sought help from position number 13, the large white rock just to the left of the red rock in the South position (about 7 o'clock in the above photo). This is the position of the Ancestors.

In some of the work I've been doing since we moved back to my hometown, many opportunities have arisen for me to heal myself in the context of my family and the unhealed stories that have been passed down for many generations. It seems like this year in particular has been pushing me to resolve, within myself, some of the deeper and more generational wounds that affect me.

As we plan our relocation in our third and final year here, I am being asked to make some vital changes that I will need to take with me on my journey. I am being called upon to cleanse, let go, cough up, release and leave behind that which does not serve. While I'm always eager to do this, it sometimes takes me a few trips around the wheel to feel the click, and wire it in. Ceremony always helps, and by the time I get to it, I'm ready to wave a confident farewell to the last of the loitering residue.

During the time I've been sick with the coughing, for example, I've been quarreling with each member of my family on some level. Louise Hay's, You Can Heal Your Life says this:

Bronchitis: Inflamed family environment. Arguments and yelling. Sometimes silent.

(If this doesn't spell out my experience of conflicts between my family members and I, then I. am. a. monkey's. uncle.)

Her new thought pattern is this:

I declare peace and harmony within me and around me. All is well.

Oh, Louise. I'm glad you're always handy to punctuate the incidents.

If you would like to create a Medicine Wheel in your garden to meditate with or as a tool for healing and going deeper within, I suggest reading a book called Medicine Wheel Ceremonies by Vicki Ray and C.V. Rodberg. Their simple pamphlet-like book gives an easy description of each of the positions and includes a set of cards for use with each position. 

Fed By My Feet

I've always wondered why I love to go so much. My parents tease me about loving to "go, go, go", as if I am a freakish gypsy or hobo that must move to feel sustained. I do believe that wanderlust is out of the ordinary around here, out of fashion since the dust bowl days and deluxe coupes.

I crave adventure. I want to live in other places. I want to live out of the country with my family, to speak another language poorly. I want to eat learn to love the food that other cultures eat. I want to do things that frighten me a bit. I like to push the edge of my comfort level because I thrive on learning new perspectives and all about the world's people. And creatures!

And also, because I am wild. Not so buried inside of us many, there is a brujita living in a hut which runs around on chicken legs. I don't know where she came from. Up from the generational pipeline, I suppose, having gone dormant in some women before me, and for plenty of fine reasoning. I'm glad she's with me, and that I can hear her.

I read recently that, "The wolf is kept fed by his feet". To wit, a wild woman's soul is kept fed by answering the call when one feels restless.

Up, now.

Out the cage door we must go.

Big Guns

Dude.

There is only one way to begin this entry and that is with one word.

DUDE.

I've been absent here half of last week because, believe it or not, the acute bronchitis is back with a vengeance. First me, then the babes.

I assure you that more radical changes are being implemented.

First, I bought these two books:

I opted for a newer book on an old subject because I need to get to work fast, as opposed to reading about the history of macro and the science behind acid/alkali yin/yang balance. I've been bugging my friends for those details!

 

 

And this one because I've had it in my wishlist forever and because it's known for the chapter on healing moods with foods. Promising enough for me to want to try.

While I'm anxiously awaiting their arrival, I'm priming my family by taking away all of the foods that they love! Well, Miles is the one who is really having to make adjustments. It seems I've really slipped with him. You see, he's very persistent and quite a logical debater about his preferences. Convincing chase he does give in order to get what he wants. And I fall for his big brown eyes every time. His techniques combined with year one of baby number two have made me weak at my game. Instant oatmeal has become a staple with a big dollup of organic, sugar free peanut butter-his favorite breakfast. With fresh berries on the side, I've even fooled myself into believing he is a pretty healthy eater.

Oh boy.

Years ago, a dear friend experienced a major boost in her health, which included an adjustment of her post-thyroid cancer medication. Here are the contents of an email she sent me this morning excerpted from Michio Kushi's and Alex Jack's book The Macrobiotic Path to Total Health:

Healing Diet # 1 for more yin conditions is as follows:

1) Avoid all extreme yin foods and beverages, including sugar, chocolate, honey, milk, butter and other dairy products, white rice, flour, etc., excessive fruits and fruit juices (except a little stewed apple cooked with a pinch of sea salt), including potatoes, tomatoes, and peppers.

2) Avoid all extreme yang foods including meat, eggs, salted cheese, seafood.

3) Avoid or reduce all hard baked flour products such as bread, crackers, cookies and pastries, except for occasional unyeasted or unsweetened whole-grain sourdough bread, if craved

4) Eliminate all chemicalized or artificially produced and treated foods and beverages.

5)Avoid all foods cooked on electric stove or microwave.

6) Minimize oil for 1-2 months; use only sesame or olive oil sparingly.

7) Avoid raw salads for 1 mo or until condition improves; eat boiled salads where you lightly boil or steam vegetables in layers and eat with a little shoyu and whole grain noodles if you want.

8) Avoid all ice-cold foods and drinks on ice.

9) In general the cooking for a yin condition may be slightly stronger than usual and use a little more sea salt, miso, or shoyu in cooking.

10) Eat whole grains in whole form as the main portion of the diet (50-60% of daily consumption). The first day prepare pressure-cooked shortgrained brown rice. The next day prepare brown rice pressure cooked with 30% millet. The third day prepare brown rice with 30% barley. The fourth day, prepare brown rice with 30% adzuki beans or lentils. The fifth day, prepare brown rice again. Boiling may be alternated or substituted for pressure-cooking (put a small piece of kombu in water when you cook it for seasoning). Morning porridge can be made by taking leftover rice and adding a little more water to soften, simmering for a few minutes and then adding 1 tsp. of miso per cup of grain at end of cooking. Oats should be avoided for first month, but you can use different grains like wheat berries, rye, and corn. Both udon and soba noodles or other whole grain noodles and pasta may be eaten 2-3 times per week (with miso).

11) Eat 1-2 servings of soup each day, mostly miso with wakame, onions, carrots, daikon, shitake. Grain soups also okay. Butternut squash soup a good choice. Make your own vegetable broth for cooking soups (onion, carrot, celery, root greens).

12) 30% of diet should be vegetables: leafy greens such as collards, kale, turnip greens; sweet round veggies such as squash, onions and cabbage and root veggies such as carrots, daikon, burdock, parsnips. You can add dried tofu, tofu, tempeh, mochi or seitan with vegetables 2 times/week.

13) 5% beans: adzuki, lentils, chickpeas, black soy beans cooked with kombu and small amount of onion and carrot.

14) Pickles made at home, i.e., daikon, cabbage, carrots (You can get a little pickle press from Japanese markets or in Little Tokyo)

15) White fish may be eaten once a week, if craved, steamed, boiled or poached, garnished with fresh grated daikon or ginger to aid in digestion.

16) Drink bancha twig tea as the main beverage. Do not drink coffee. Use good spring water. One to 2 cups of fresh carrot or other vegetable juice may be taken once a week.

17) Avoid overeating or overdrinking. Avoid late-night snacks or eating within 3 hours of sleeping.

No problem, right?

Yesterday and today, I made a lovely broth to drink by boiling cabbage, butternut squash, carrot and onion. I strained it and drank it like clear tea. I'm also taking licorice tea for the bronchitis and lobelia capsules (Indian tobacco) to reduce the inflammation of the branches of my poor bronchial tree.

I'll keep you posted on how we do. Working up to the grain requirement is going to be tough. One thing I did discover is that goat's milk products are alkalinizing (yang), whereas cow's milk is acid (yin). Needless to say, I discovered shredded goat's mozzarella and butter at the health food store and since I don't have great tastebuds, they are working out famously. In major moderation, of course. It helps to have transitional items onhand. Once we get healthy, they may taste a bit goaty. Brandon thought the butter was indistinguishable, though.

I've been able to slip in some products without Miles noticing, but he has busted me on a few things- like goat yogurt and creamy cheese from Trader Joe's.

I also found some very yummy tofu and carob nutty cube thingies at our hfs which are helping to curb our collective sugar cravings. I may try making some of my own.

I'd love to know if any of you eat macro or a raw food diet and what led you to it.

Starting Monday off with a bang, aren't I?

Postscript: My friend asked me to note (of course!) that this special "healing" diet is not what macrobiotics looks like once the body becomes healthy. It serves to clean out the system and reset the acid/alkaline balance in beginners. In her words, "the basic tenet for macrobiotic diet is to be able to eat whatever you want once you learn how to maintain a balance between yin and yang foods".

Creative Spirit

Sweet, spirited, Lauren of VisionWise is giving away this necklace this week, called Creative Spirit. I have two of Lauren's necklaces and also commissioned her to make a very special hemp and stone bracelet for a new Daddy in the clan recently, and I have been so happily thrilled with her work. She is a very special fire mama who puts amazing energy into her *works*. Stop in and enter!

I spent the entire evening clearing out my art studio and adding more to the donation pile-this time many, many skeins of unloved yarn. I've freed up my bins and organized them, which makes my little, obsessive-compulsive brain do a very happy dance.

My desktop could still use a bit of help, but it didn't stop me from working on a postcard for a student pen pal project I volunteered for. So nice to create for kids.

And when creativity is flowing, it seems to be flowing everywhere in this house. I love Miles obsession with globes. He has long loved drawing the planets, but lately he's been putting them all on stands! Dig the volcanic explosion happening down south.

Additionally, I'm intrigued this week by The Artistic Mother, by Shona Cole and Found City, by Keri Smith. Must make a found city with Miles!

Shona's recent article at Wishstudio, titled Art Makes Us Better Moms deserves a read.

Vasilisa the Beautiful

Imagine my delight when I opened up the beautiful gift sent to my daughter for her birthday by her Aunt Stevie (who hand-felted the doll):

Vasilisa is the story of a young girl whose good mother dies, and her father remarries a wicked stepmother with two horrible daughters who treat Vasilisa like a slave. Sound familiar?

As Vasilisa endures their torment and receives no protection from her weak, naive father, she keeps the doll her mother gave her tucked inside her apron.  The new regime of commanding voices which berate her, and keep her enslaved, are never ending and Vasilisa is not yet experienced enough to stand up to them.

She is sent on an impossible mission for fire one night, deep into the wilderness, to scary Baba Yaga's house. Vasilisa consults with the doll to find her way there and is comforted by it's presence in her apron. When she finally reaches the hags hut, Baba Yaga barks a list of unreasonable chores at her, planning to eat her when she fails. But the doll provides the magic help, and day after day, she guides Vasilisa and helps her meet Baba Yaga's requirements and is eventually given what she has come for.

The maid survived her dangerous journey, and that which tormented her was burned away in the fire she returned with, thanks to the blessing given to her as a birthright. Her inner knowing and guidance, symbolized by the doll, sends her the message again and again that "The morning is brighter than the evening". She alchemically transforms her own destiny by trusting and following her inner voice.

Being a woman is to go on a long journey, up and over frightful mountains and through dark valleys, listening to harsh voices that we eventually discover do not serve us- and hopefully arriving triumphantly at the place where our intuition speaks louder and more clearly, and our hearts take direction eagerly.

Today I am so grateful for the strong women and new life that surrounds me: for You, who are triumphant as you listen evermore closely to your own guiding voices. You, who enjoy knowing, more than pleasing others.

I am comforted to run into you now and again on the mossy and sometimes shaded foot trails of this path!

Tools: Plant Kingdom, Part Two

The doors are flying off of the hinges here at Pandora's box, as I realize how very many things I have in my toolkit to be shared. I don't know what's got into me! I had a completely different post planned for today, but, no. These members of my family demand to be introduced. Who am I to argue?

*Please bear in mind that my experience of plants and herbs may be somewhat different from yours. That is to say that what I feel safe ingesting may not translate to others' constitutions. Always consult reliable resources for contraindications before using, especially if pregnant, nursing, or when considering remedies for children. I'll include the references I use most at the bottom of this post, as well.

If you share a comment or story, I would love to send you a little medicine bundle of gratitude. Email me with the address you want a little plant lovin' sent to and then watch your mailbox...

 

Juniper is a common shrub which offers so many uses, from medicinal salves to headache remedies and even to prevent nightmares. I use the beautiful, tasty, little juniper berries in a tea (when I'm not pregnant or nursing) to create a sacred environment within before sitting in a sweat lodge or doing a releasing ceremony. Juniper berries (relaxing in a bowl of last year's lavender buds) are such good friends to me. I have been using them in medicine bundles as a way to dispel negative energies for a long time and there's something that is just so comforting about them. I love to throw a handful of them into a fire and smell their evergreeny scent. Carried in a pouch, they have a protective, safe quality to them. One might use them mixed with a bit of lavender or chamomile buds in a little bundle for a young child's pocket when leaving to school for the first time.

Juniper was a name I was quite keen on for Ivy, but Ivy sounded better with her middle name :) Miles loves to play with the dried berries, smell them and make special "potions" with them. Wild animals love to eat them, too.

Salvia Mellifera, or Black Sage, grows like pure madness here. I planted a very small twig I bought at a native plant sale two years ago and now this hulk is over 3' tall and perhaps 5-6' wide. Dried, then wrapped into smudge sticks with colorful cotton thread, it is a lovely companion for shamanic journeywork. Truth be told, it is a bit stinky to my nose until it is burned. Hummingbirds and bees love this giant plant, but most insects do not. That makes it perfect for burning around a campsite or picnic area to keep pesties away. The bees who frequent these plants make very yummy honey. However, I am not a beekeeper...but I know a few of you who visit here would like to be! My garden always looks lush with this evergreen fellow hanging around in bulk.

Comfrey is pretty much a lifesaver and is used routinely at our house. I first discovered it when my midwife recommended making large batches of tea out of it, refrigerating it, then spritzing my birth-weary parts after bringing Miles & Ivy in. The reason for this is that it has regenerative properties and helps tears and lacerations mend. I found it to be very useful with both births; I applied the tea directly on my birthing region extraordinaire, and also poured it liberally into the bath. I also found that it works well on Ivy's eczema if I make a tea and just lightly blot the area.

I only use it topically, because it is indicated as causing distress to the liver. The varieties used in herbal teas you may have seen on market shelves likely do not contain the harmful alkaloids that cause liver trouble. Always best to check. Some who are even more woo-woo than me might use a pendulum over the herb to intuit whether it *feels* safe to ingest or not. I like to play it safe. And I'm pretty woo-woo.

Mugwort! Doesn't that just sound like a witch's plant? It is sometimes actually referred to as Croneswort because it's an old folk belief that it springs up at the doorsteps of healers. This is a plant that I have never taken internally. I picked it up years ago while making a dream bundle for a family member who was having a terrible time sleeping and also trying to work through some issues that her thinking brain was making no progress with. It is used to stimulate lucid dreaming, but best used in small amounts so as not to have restless sleep. I'm a big fan of letting dreams do my inner work for me at times when I feel too overwhelmed to think about them in my waking life. Mugwort is another great insect repellent. Wing of bat! Eye of newt! Hair of Toad!

Balsam tea is relatively new to my collection of helpers, though I'd been drinking it without knowing it's true medicinal properties for years. I used it with great success when very little else was working on the bout with bronchitis I recently had. It's full of vitamin C, and acts as an expectorant. However it is also slightly diuretic, so I drank only one cup per day, followed by lots of water, so as not to disrupt my milk supply for Miss Ivy. It is so very yummy. Juniper Ridge makes a great bag of Douglas Fir Tip tea that I crave during the wintertime.

I hope you've enjoyed this little show-and-tell I've presented. Perhaps on your walkabouts, you'll be inspired to say hello to those plant people who rise up to greet you and make your landscape more beautiful. Maybe one in particular would like to make a love connection with you. (push play: romantic music)

Resources for Herbs:

Las Pilitas Nursery -for the best in California native plants

Cal Flora -the go-to plant identification database

Juniper Ridge- my very favorite grassroots wildcrafters who make amazing incense and tea

Mountain Rose Herbs -my one stop for organic essential oils and bulk herbs

Plants of Power: Native American Ceremony and the Use of Sacred Plants

Hygieia: A Woman's Herbal -this is radical book written by the ballsy Jeannine Parvati and I love reading her folkloric writings about woman's body and the plants that heal them. (It must be undergoing another printing according to availability)

Native American Healing Arts -a lovely reference for native ceremonies involving plants and folk medicine.

Plant Spirit Medicine -a wonderful little book about understanding the more esoteric value of plants and developing relationships to them.

I would love to hear your stories about how you heal with herbs or recollections from your childhood about a sensory experience with plants or whatever you feel moved to share. Don't be shy! Let your earthy,hooey-dooey, intuitive freak flag fly...in all of us, there is a healer.

Selkie

The funniest story has been unfolding in my world today about the story of the selkie in "Sealskin, Soulskin" from WWRWtW.

It is likely my fave story in the book, so I return to it like a buttery blankie when I'm feeling like I need a little fix, but don't have time for all new concepts at the moment. I'd just read it in bed last night.

It began when this LOVE mentioned *selkie* in a note to me and I was like, "What is Selkie? is that like a swamp creature that eats little children?" (No, that would be a Kelpie, silly). Both are mystical and charming, hear this. But one of them lures children and one of them is far more benevolent.

Please just go and read this. It will do your soul some good. Especially if you've happened to have misplaced your skin...

**And please enjoy these pics of Ivy as she sings, yes SINGS her little heart out on a wagon ride earlier today (while I was searching high and low for my growing short-term memory).**

 

"When we are in our rightful wildish nature, we all feel this bright life. It is one of the signs that we are close to Wild Woman. We all enter the world in a dancing condition. We always begin with our own pelts intact."

-Women Who Run With the Wolves, p.289

On The Wind

This is a time of year when I start feeling really bold. I wonder if it's because the promise of the new year excites me so much? It feels like getting a new pee chee folder at school, crisp and ready to write I Heart So-and-So five million times on it, a perfectly clean slate with the potential for any number of wonderful things to happen. The earliest days of manifesting in action!

Last year I decided to carry  A Gift from the Sea, by Anne Morrow Lindbergh, around with me everywhere I went in order to allow her messages to infuse me. I didn't end up carrying her everywhere, but I did stuff it in many a satchel during the earlier part of the year. Without being overly intentional about it, balancing this act of mothering and turning the creative wheel did end up being the motif for my year. In other words, it all worked out as I'd originally hoped.

This year, I'm going to take the easy route and carry my all-time favorite book with me. I own two copies because I can't bear to walk to the other end of the house to find it if I want to read in bath or bed. I'm sure it comes to no surprise that my favorite book in the ENTIRE WORLD ever written is Women Who Run With the Wolves. When I open the stinky pages of this aged thing, the hairs stand up all over me and I know I am finding the words that are blueprinted on every inch of my own soul. 

This is the work of my very favorite photographer, Sarah Maingot. Can I bottle this?

It doesn't matter how many times I read it, I still find myself jumping up and down in confirmation that I am a criatura, that the aspects of woman that have been coerced and driven out over the centuries are not whispering under my skin, but screaming to pick up the *stories, the bundles for healing, the dreams, songs, signs and symbols* and feel, as CPE refers to it as "the sureness of their soulfooting". My hope this year is to reconnect with the archetype that speaks to me the most.

Maybe I'm hopping up and down howling all the time because this trail of crumbs is not new or unknown to me. Rather because it feels so warmly...familiar. By some strange twist of lightening striking in the moment of my birth, I have always known that I would be on this path. It's almost as if the tiny little genetic code of wild trickled down quietly through the women before me, but lined up in a quick blast for me, so that there would be no question about why my fur twitches when the wind blows in two directions at once and why I'm passionately drawn to other bitches with sixth senses who prefer to preserve their instinctual nature over...

Photo by Sarah Maingot.

...let's just say that I can smell you on the wind, sister.

Video Four

Doing better. Thank you so much for your feedback and positive thoughts for Blue. Surgery is scheduled for Wednesday, so I do appreciate any of you who can hold a bit of space for her recovery. Bless you!

Spider has been linked to the Wheel of Fortune card in the tarot deck. I like Spiritual Tarot for a depth-psychology approach to what's coming up for me in the cards or just life in general. Here is a small bit of what it says:

"[The Wheel of Fortune] is a symbol of advancement, of cycles of manifestation, of energy that can be harnessed without stopping the rhythm of natural unfolding and periodic repetition. It is the archetype of our quest for the Holy Grail, for self-enlightenment. The Wheel of Fortune can teach us endurance and fortitude, how to analyze situations and make decisions accordingly, and how to keep our psychic balance in the midst of fluctuation."

I fluctuate, therefore, I am!

Little House

The lovely explorer, Keri Smith and I share a love of tiny houses. I excitedly read her blog last week and began another tear through tiny home blogs, Jay Shafer's awesome site of Tumbleweed houses, gypsy vardos, and hobbity little earth dwellings.

 

The XS

What is it about the wee house that we love so much? From a simple little living room fort to a backyard yurt or tipi, a private treehouse or beautiful boat, I can't get enough of small spaces.

My godfather in another life, Carl Jung, said, "Everything in the unconscious seeks outward manifestation". One could run in any bloody direction with that, Carl. But as it applies to "stuff", I think it's worthwhile to investigate how we collect, what earthly items we cherish and what houses we dream of.

I'm dreaming of a tiny house in a wooded glen at the moment, as I'm deeply missing the trees once again...

And as for earthly items I cherish, here are a few:

1.Hairpins from the vintagebelljar

2.Jeans

3.My favorite mug and this tea

4.Perfect lip balm

5.Sewing machine

6.Yarn/needles

7.My collection of big feathers

8.My grandmother's cast iron skillet

9.Blockprinted dishtowels (sneaking in functional art wherever I can)

10.My worn-out copies of (surprise) Women Who Run With the Wolves, Gift from the Sea and Walden.

I'll keep this list going and encourage you to create your own- bearing in mind that if you only had 200 sq ft to live in, what would you bring with you? What are you afraid of not having?

Going to Seed

Scene: Storytime at bedtime tonite.

Miles, (sorrowfully): But I don't like it when the beyoofull flowers die and all of the seeds blow away!

Me, (assuredly): I know. Mother Nature gave everything it's season, babe. And don't you love to blow those blowing flowers into the wind and make wishes as they sail off to land on the earth to make more beautiful dandelions?

Miles, (almost crying): No and I...um...! I just want them to stay golden and beyoofull and... not die!

Me, (almost crying): Even if one small flower can send out all of it's tiny seeds and make a hundred dandelions?

Miles (calming): No, mama.

Miles Lighthorse, 3 1/2 years. This morning was his first day of preschool.

My little guy is growing up.  He's been wanting to "go to school" for almost a year now and today he finally set sail into the world into a two half-days-a-week program after being under my protective wing for this long. It was a bit rough on him. The teacher, Miss Lupe, finally created an inroad for herself by showing him how to put paint in a pizza box and roll a marble around in it over a fishie cutout and create some colorful swirls.  But she also confessed that at one point he pulled his hat over his eyes and clamped his hands over his ears.  I phoned after he'd been there for two hours and they put him on the phone.  "I'm tired of being here", he'd said, woefully.  Ivy and I piled into the car and drove immediately to pick him up.  I found him on the playground looking a bit overwhelmed. The other kids seemed to be moving so fast. He looked like someone in a movie scene, caught in slo-motion while everyone else races around. He's a very conscious and sensitive fellow and when my eyes met his, he looked at me with such relief, as if just the connection to someone who knows him was all he needed to find his light again.

He wants to try again on Thursday and B and I agreed that it will be good to keep trying as long as he wants to go.  I may end up picking him up after two hours for a few weeks, but I'm willing to do it so he can decide whether this environment is nourishing to him. I can see the potential at this larger preschool for him to have fun and learn how to integrate into a group.  But part of me yearns for a little intimate setting which is slower paced and more thoughtful. I don't know of a place like that here.

While we wait, painfully, to see how he will adjust, I'll keep looking for a place that might be better suited for him. It was so hard to send him off today. Part of it felt like I was throwing him to the wolves, not knowing what loneliness feels like to him or if he was being heard. He speaks so quietly and softly, my fear is that he might have felt invisible there.  But perhaps that wasn't the case.  It's really the first time I've ever had to wonder. 

*sigh*

Tiny seeds all eventually blow out into the wind to find their own way in the world.  Knowing that doesn't make it any easier.

No Baby Yet + New Artwork

We have no baby yet. But something definitely feels different.  She's moving lower when it already feels like she is about two inches from falling out. I'm wondering if I'm going to glance down at some point and see her waving at me!

Poor Miles has a horrible cough, so we stuck close to home this weekend, trying natural remedies at first and then hitting the horrible Pediacare when nothing else would allow him to sleep for the coughing.  So it's probably not an ideal time for miss baby girlkins to be born yet, anyhow.

I'm up late in the studio, channeling aniticipation into some more little paintings.  I'm having so much fun with this series.  I've done most of them on wood instead of canvas, which is different for me.  I like the smooth surface of the panels and the fact that I don't have to tighten canvas before I can start working. It's amazing what I'll do when I'm idly waiting to give birth as opposed to when I have all the time in the world!

Ever since Wendy recommended Wolf! to me, I have been a huge fan of Sara Fanelli.  You can definitely see her influence below. Another great book I love which melds concepts of wild and urban is Coyote in Love with a Star.

Rhinos are associated with discriminating senses, ancient wisdom and solitude. They can teach us how to be comfortable in our own thick skin.

 

Mixed-media on 6"x6" cradled birch panel.

Perhaps there will be baby news sooner than later. I am quite ready to meet my elvish daughter...

39.5 Weeks: Awaiting Little Turtlebottom

Though I'm anxious to meet my little girl, I don't want to rush her.  I'm officially due next Monday, the 16th, and I'm sticking close to home today mainly because M was few days early...well, four days before his "guess date" and I don't want to be waddling through Target and break my water in the tp aisle.  (Though I do need some things from Target...like tp...)

I'm painting with a late night fever again.  I'm not sure if it's because I wonder if I'll be able to make time for it after she arrives...  It's keeping me sane, actually.  I am up wandering the halls long after bedtime here just enjoying the peace and quiet.

This angel recommended a homebirth book (here's an untapped book niche one of us should jump on) that's out of print from Australia.  I snagged a library copy from amazon.com and we love it to pieces-apparently I got a super deal at about fifteen clams, but it looks like the going rate is about fifty.  It's called Welcome, With Love by Jenni Overend, and it's about a family who is preparing for a homebirth- told in the voice of young Jack.  Jack helps his dad gather wood for a fire, which they all sleep next to once baby is born. It's a nice realistic account of birth, as opposed to every other book we have where mommy disappears for days while the children stay with a family member or mommy and daddy appear magically with a baby and present it to the siblings.  There is even an illustration of mom leaning on dad, and baby's head poking out of her bottom region, as well as a picture of the placenta and cord.  Miles has been captivated by the story since it arrived. 

The first connection I made with this baby was in a dream in which I got to see her briefly in a piece of retro table tubing in a funky old trailer(!). She appeared as a sleeping, little baby turtle bathed in blue light.  I only got to see that she was safe and then she was gone.  The amphibious nature of babes in the belly fascinates me. 

This looks a bit rough because I snapped the shot while the turtle was still surrounded in liquid mask, but I like the way it's turning out.  At some point, I will have to share this cool stencilling technique I've been playing around with.  When I get the kinks worked out. In the meantime, I'm having lots of fun with the paint-on frisket. And saying "frisket" whenever I get the chance.

 

          Turtle detail.

More Wild Soul, Please.

In birth as it is in any creative act...too much safety and structure scares the heck out of me. I think the thing I had to realize early on when my disorderly painting style began to emerge, is the fact that many people will not think my work is pretty or want to hang it on their walls.  It is not whimsical or particularly inspiring.  *sigh*

That being said, there is no real "purpose" to my work besides the act of doing it- which I find immensely gratifying, as in no strings attached.  But what came first? Purposelessness at the onset or necessary surrender so that it could be the ugly or messy thing it usually wants to be? 

I suppose that if I hung my hopes on people liking my work, I would truly starve!  Thank goodness my husband has paying work! Feedback is fun, but I do believe that, for me, it is not necessary in order to feel glad I did the work.  This is a relief.

I feel a certain wildness when I'm painting.  I make a strange face that is focused and not attractive at all.  I drop things repeatedly and spill things on the counter that I don't wipe up until I'm out of my trance.  I snack like an animal. I unconcsiously forget I'm not wearing painting clothes and wipe my hands on my pants, but don't care much in the end. 

Okay, that's not exactly wild, but I'm not functioning in my conscious body, and that feels different from how I normally operate. 

Giving birth to M felt the same way to me.  At home, there was no one badgering me to sign papers while riding out a contraction, no one securing wires and blood pressure cuffs on me while I was trying to do my hippy dippy Rainbow Relaxation.  There was no incessant beeping of monitoring machines, tapping out reports on little tapes beyond my door in a nurse's station.  There was no one looking at the clock and expecting me to perform and making me anxious.  And in that place of total surrender without expectation, my baby arrived: smoothly, harmoniously, very messily and right on time. Though I did yell out, "What time is it?" as soon as his slippery body was out-because who knows, he may want to have his chart read someday...*grin*. Important stuff.

 

That darn flash.  If I weren't burning the midnite oil to eek out time in the studio, my photos would surely appear a bit better.  But then, who cares, right? :)

"When there is too much predator and not enough wild soul, the economic, social, emotional, and religious structures of culture gradually begin to distort the most soulful resources, both in spirit and in the outer world.  Natural cycles are starved into unnatural shapes, lacerated with unwise uses, or else put to death. The value of what is wild and visionary is denigrated, and dark speculations are made about how dangerous the instinctual nature really is.  Thus stripped of authentic sanctity and meaning, destructive and painful means and methods are rationalized as superior."  --Clarissa Pinkola Estes, Ph.D, Women Who Run With the Wolves

36 Weeks: Full Moon Belly

 

We're getting so close, and I'm feeling so very, very full.  Sleeping is getting a bit tight, I feel quite like The Tick, if you can remember that comicbook TV hero, squashed neatly into his tight blue getup, but me without the superhuman strength.

Tonite I'm painting, but reading some while the coats dry.  Tell me if you can relate to this:

"I'm sending you on a very lonely road. No one will ever truly understand you. They think they know you, but they don't know what you're thinking about, they don't know the feelings that you have, how sometimes even in a busy, crowded place you need to make certain contact, and to do so, you need to be somewhat withdrawn. That's why, in a social situation it's very uncomfortable for you just to sit down and talk to pass the time: 'Oh, yes, this and all that. Oh, isn't it wonderful, and my, I saw a beautiful chair in the store window the other day. And, gosh, the way they were dressed.' These aren't things you can relate to when you carry medicine.  So it's sort of a lonely road, but in the end, it's worthwhile. It's all worthwhile." --Bear Heart, The Wind is My Mother

I think being a creative person is, too, like carrying sacred medicine. The mind and the heart engage a little differently than in some folks. And a lonely road it can seem to be at times.

 

And the Mother of the Year Award goes to my dear friend Christine, who has pumped enough breast milk to get her 8 month old daughter through the next few months in order to begin trying to conceive another baby!  Her husband just had to go out for another freezer.  This milky mama was diagnosed with MS just after Mari was born in May of last year and is being urged to complete her family sooner than later.  Here is the darling Mariko over the holidays:

 

Seems like the whole world is having babies right now!  I hope that she has good luck, please send her a positive thought!

Things are looking good for us to have a homebirth with our little Stellie star, and my mind is a whirling blender of how to prepare for it.  I wasn't as prepared last time, not having any experience with it, but this time around I'm hoping to make it not just comfortable, but really special as well.  I've also been juicing vegetables like crazy and I feel great.

I'm lovin' Gentle Moon for supplies like Mastitis Compress herbs and some of the lists at motheringdotcommune from mamas who homebirth regularly.  I plan on soaking some pads with comfrey root tea and freezing them for help with my sore bottom parts when all is said and done. Afterease is on my list, as well as some other postpartum care items from Wishgarden.  We used the herbal cord care product with Miles and his little cord healed up really fast with no issues whatsoever. Arnica gel, Rescue Remedy cream (for the ring of fire!), liquid chlorophyll with mint, coconut water (which surprisingly mimicks the composition of human blood plasma), some Merry Mother tea, vitamin water, raw honey and herb balm, and soup made by someone other than me (!) will be on my list for birthday, too!

Birthing From Within is still my favorite prenatal book, with the Sear's Birth Book running in close second.  Both give realistic accounts of what is at risk and what is to gain by having fewer interventions.  I can never say enough about the Sears-they just know their stuff, and they advocate gentleness, which we can always use more of with our births and children, in my opinion.

I now have the time to read and start thinking about any new fears that might be coming up this time, which is so strange.  Every birth brings a new set of thoughts and dreams, and though it is the most magical and exciting time I've ever experienced, it also challenges all of my control issues, each and every dirty one of them.  I have anxiety each time I go to the doctor, because unlike last time, homebirth and non-interventional choices are frowned upon in the facility I go to.  I literally have to come home and drown myself in Peggy O' Mara and Ina May Gaskin to center myself after the ordeals.  Some might ask why I even bother going to the OB at all.  That is one of my control issues-I want to see for myself that all is going well according to western expectations because it fortifies my decision to birth at home.

As I was hippying out to my yoga dvd this morning, and lying quietly in svasana pose, the soothing voice of Shiva Rea instructed me to:

SR: Now focus on your crown chakra.  Imagine a melting sensation down over your forehead.  Relax your nose and the sides of your tongue...

Miles: Hey! This movie is not about tongues and noses!

Thank you, Prenatal Yoga Police, for the feedback.

Namaste!

Happy New Year

 

This year is off to a banging good start with a bit of drama yesterday having to do with dogs and their bad behavior, and today I am already rather grouchy and it's only the afternoon!  I'm determined to turn it around, though.  On New Year's Eve I managed to collage a new journal-the kind I reserve for readings, homework and journeys from the medicine circle I sit in and that sort of thing.  In other words, not the burning kind.  Since it's a baby year as well, I like to write letters to my newbie and this journal serves as a reminder that birth is inevitably on the way.  Just in case my gigantic basketball stomach wasn't enough of a clue!  I'm clutching the empty thing as if it symbolizes a place for me to retreat to when the gong of demand isn't ringing off the hook, which it generally does.

A bit ago, the ever-thoughtful and inspiring Keri Smith wrote about becoming intimate for one year with a book of one's choosing and I have selected A Gift From the Sea to carry around with me everywhere.  It is full, and I mean bursting, with simple no-brainer reminders of woman's need to retreat and return in order to stay filled up and ready for the giving, which we all do even if we are not mothers of small children.  I carried it to the doctor's office a couple of days ago and was pleasantly reminded of how easy it is to want to stand up and shout, "Yes! That's how I feel!" but kept it down for the sake of the company.  She speaks of simplifying ones life, and I suppose that is why I have always loved this book.  For a woman surrounded by all of the shining "modern conveniences" 1955 had to offer, she had the reflection to notice that all of the stuff was disruptive to her soul work and her creativity.  Here is a quote for any of us simplifying our closets this new year...

"One learns first of all in beach living the art of shedding;how little one can get along with, not how much.  Physical shedding to begin with, which then mysteriously spreads into other fields.  Clothes, first.  Of course, one needs less in the sun.  But one needs less anyway, one finds suddenly.  One does not need a closet-full, only a small suitcase full.  And what a relief it is!  Less taking up and down of hems, less mending, and-best of all-less worry about what to wear.  One finds one is shedding not only clothes-but vanity."

Travel always calls my attention to packing lightly.  On the rest of my journey, I intend to keep my belongings meaningful and few.  Every closet, cupboard, craft bin, hanging rod and corner is being purged in our home right now, as the holidays have seriously gotten in the way of my nesting.  With it, I let go of fear, holding-on tendencies, sentimentality for "things", and the gross build up that comes from a life lacking in elimination when called for.  This is also a great time to weed through tiresome relationships, weak financial habits, and things that don't serve my well-being.  It always feels so good to clear the way for new energy and adventures to come in, doesn't it?

What are you shedding this new year?

Spider Woman

There is a black spider under my work table who has been there for weeks and I can't bring myself to relocate her.

Night before last I picked out a book that's been sitting on my shelf unread for who knows how long-probably the nineties!  It's called Spider Woman's Web by Susan Hazen-Hammond.  It's full of short Native American tales of women reclaiming their power, but sometimes reads like a nighttime television drama. 

When I began studying shamanism years ago, our circle was instructed to journey into the unconcious realms to find our power animal, one that would be the first in a series of many to help navigate through the soul's work.  Most of the women got animals well revered for their wisdom and grace like the wolf, the owl, the eagle and bear.  Mine was the black widow.  She who eats her mate when she's finished using him for her dark purposes-that was the gist of what I knew about her then. 

I've developed a rather sweet relationship with her since, wrapping my mind's image of her with long, silky threads around my wrist as the drum beats to journey off looking for whatever it is I seek answers to.  When we moved to the valley, we were inundated with widows all over the property, and what I find most fascinating about her is how solitary and reclusive she is.  You will not find her moseying curiously across the carpet like a common house spider or building webs in high outlooks over the dining room light.  She lays low, tucked under an eave, weaving and weaving, then coming out when the lights are off to wait for her prey.

Grandmother Spider teaches us to explore our strength, vitality, creativity, and our power.  She nurtures us through difficult times of the unknown.  She dares us to weave our own fates, in this very moment, and to seize what we desire when it finds it's way into our web, and to be nourished by it.  The web symbolizes the fertile place where our dreams can manifest, woven by our own creative intentions.  Her waiting represents the patience and flexibility required to see our intentions to fruition.  She exudes the quiet confidence of one who will meet her destiny with relish.

As autumn skitters toward winter, I find my thoughts mingling with the new year: New baby, no out-of-the-house job...what will my idle fingers yearn to make? I had major creative energy birthing the year Miles came to us.  When he slept, I painted.  I wore him in a sling so I could make journal pages while I swayed back and forth with him.  I'm so curious to listen for what has been dormant in the year and a half I've been "out in the world"...like a subtle, little music that seeps out of our souls- a forgotten waltz drowned in doing...

Do tell me-

What's spinning in your corner?

The Gift of Nothing

Earl opened Mooch's gift.

"There's nothing here," said Earl.

"Yesh!" said Mooch.  "Nothing...

but me and you."

So Mooch and Earl just stayed still and enjoyed nothing

and everything.

---Patrick McDonnell, The Gift of Nothing

Reading and Drawing

One of my very favorite decks to ask a question of and draw from is The Wisdom of the Four Winds by Barry Brailsford (with gorgeous illustrations by Cecilie Okada).  They are inspired by Maori folklore and the New Zealand countryside and I always get the most beautiful readings.  I have sometimes chosen the same card again and again trying to trick the deck into giving me something I haven't gotten yet!  There are some beautiful plant images, as well as elemental figures.  Best of all is that it arrives with a juicy, hardcover book to help guide you through the meanings.  I struggle with the decks that either spell the too-simple messages out for me or give me too little information about each card!  Thanks to Spirithelpers for the photo.

Tonite's card was # 45 Kiwi:

I am Kiwi

The hermit of the forest floor

Who gave up flight to walk

The pathways of the night

The shy creature of keen sight

Who gathers in its courage

To defend the cause that's right

The child of the moon-glow

Who shares its inner wisdom

That we might stronger grow

I am Courage

Kiwi reminds me of Mole, my companion who lingers underground with me, digging up treasures and food for thought in dimly lit soul-caverns (which I am seldom eager to return from).  She is described as "restlessly probing the deep litter of the forest to gather food".  Or sifting through the shadowy rubble, as I sometimes think of it.  I am not frightened of darkness or big, scary feelings-mine or yours.  Only of covering up the truth to appear more likeable, more accomodating, more something-other-than-what-we-are.  I think knowing our greatest strengths and highest flights will rely on our willingness to embrace what really is.

Did you know Kiwis have no wings?  They look like a round beaver with talons, a chick's head and a long beak.  They're the strangest looking creatures!  They lay an enormous egg described as "a wonderful capsule of promise".  Hmm.

What are you hatching these days?

Falling Off the Side of the World

We arrived back from Oklahoma on Monday night later than we expected.  Settling back in is always challenging for me-the suitcases sit with clothes spilling over the sides as chores from a week ago remain undone.  Another day won't hurt!

It seems like life is flying past me at the moment.  There is really quite a lot going on with us and with friends, but I can feel myself checking out-drifting away from anything but here and now.  Miles is a bit sick and this morning I have a sore throat and swollen glands.  My low immunity seems to be a theme this year.  This week I've found myself wandering aimlessly back and forth from the kitchen in the past few days-what shall I take for malaise?  Eat?  How do I take care of myself again?  Sheesh.

I received my copy of The Guerilla Art Kit, and Miles and I made 6 installments around town yesterday.  I am exhilarated by Keri's ideas and her ability to take a simple concept and make a grassroots revolution out of it.  Opening up and reading the first 20 pages completely changed the course of my day, and I have to wonder if anyone took our artwork home and how those who saw the work were affected.  We used about 90% recycled materials, mainly the envelopes from junk mail and magazine inserts.  It gave me a buzz to think of putting garbage to work, giving it a much more important job than it was orginally designed for.  I enjoyed the exercise to determine what thoughts I'd like to put into people's heads as guiding principle for the pieces we assembled-it helped me narrow down what messages I'm, uh, living my life to promote as a result of my experiences and who I am-how intimate!  Part of me wants to drive around and see what remains today!  Trying to be a stealthy ninja spy while placing the art was fun, but I don't think the CIA will be recruiting me for any black ops divisions soon-I think someone spotted me twice!  But what, fun-I am telling you.  This town needs some color and liveliness, and we felt so excited to contribute to the mystery and fun of perfect strangers interacting with us.  What a fun rush!  Thank you, Keri-you are a beautiful renegade. I can see and feel how you are changing the world, one stick of chalk at a time.

I've got a copy of Real Simple (bit of an oxymoron for all the consumption they promote) magazine's special family edition.  I snatched it up at Phoenix airport because as I held it, it magically fell open to Heather Armstrong's (affectionately known to her readers as Dooce, as if all of you don't already worship her offbeat humor-so why am I even writing this?) letter to her daughter.  An added bonus is a letter from Rob Corddry to his daughter is featured, too.  Jackpot.  Funny stuff. 

Here is a shot from Uncle Rick and Aunt Pamela's ranch on the plains, miles from anything but a super Walmart, where the gravel roads have no street signs and seed ticks rule your ankles...

Thems turkeys.

More photos of Indian territory when I return.  Until then, go buy Keri's book!

Old World Wyrm

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?

Medicine

"So, to begin healing, stop kidding yourself that a little feel-good medicine of the wrong sort will take care of a broken leg. Tell the truth about your wound, and then you will get a truthful picture of the remedy to apply to it. Don't pack whatever is easiest or most available into the emptiness. Hold out for the right medicine. You will recognize it because it makes your life stronger rather than weaker".---Clarissa Pinkola Estes, WWRWTW...

...which I heart bigtime for its salvey goodness.

Slow Comeback

 

Not since I was in college have I been hit with a virus this hard.  My infant son leapt back into vitality as soon as his run of antibiotics were finished.  Husband seems fine.  My road has been less of the leaping sort-more like limping back to health, and slower than I can bear.  I've become so impatient, I sometimes lose my sense about what I'm supposed to be doing to get better.  My immune function has never been stellar, what with growing up in Pesticide Smoggyvalley and all, but it seems especially pressed this month.  On the 9th day of Keflex, I ate a walnut laden brownie I'd made my dad for Father's Day and broke out in a hideous rash of hives (I'll save the pictures for another time when I'm not simultaneously discussing food).  My best guess is that with no probiotics in my system, I couldn't handle the walnuts (maybe it was the chocolate...).  This helped get me back on track thanks to 50 billion little live cultures.  And some claritin.  Gee whiz.

Maggie sent me Nourishing Traditions as a gift months ago and I finally got around to cracking it open.  She and I used to be vegans, she much more recently than I.  Both of us are rethinking vegetarianism.  Ethically, vegetarianism is a very good idea.  Environmentally, it is usually a great idea.  My body, however, has a different story to tell.  OPDC has made me love milk and dairy farming again, because of how thoughtfully and healthfully they are doing it.  I'm also considering adding fermented foods to my diet and sprouted ones too.  I ate an umeboshi plum today, favored by the macrobiotic community, and puckered up like Tom and Jerry on alum.  I suppose I'll keep eating them.

It's a good sign that I am here again.  I expect to be participating in life again soon and sharing about our trip to Portland, which was so fun and amazing-even though it was dampened by stage 1 of the Virus That Ate New York.

Missing your voices and your blogs, too!

The Do Nothing Garden

Doing nothing is a future goal of mine.  I have not begun to get close to doing nothing at this point in my life-but I see it up the road a bit.  Keri's Tuesday entry inspired me to talk about my garden here, and my hopes for it, and how the philosophy spills over into the rest of my life. 

We live on 2 1/2 acres of washed out desert dirt in the south central

California valley.  It's where I grew up.  My parents live 2 parcels down on their 2 1/2 acre piece.  The chunk we live on belongs to them, and my dad built this house we live in.  The soil is pretty barren; a test I did showed that there is literally nothing in terms of nutrients in the soil and that it is highly alkaline.  In short, it needs major ammendments to become really fertile.

There are some pretty bright minds out there, tackling the issue of where the world will be in 10-50 years, but the ones intriguing me the most at this time in my life are those who emphasize learning to feed ourselves.  Psychologically and collectively speaking, we are a very dependent culture.  Many of us do not know the difference between food grown at home and food grown far away-what is in it, at what point it was harvested and by whom, whether the farmer and his workers were paid enough for it for them to live on, whether it was irradiated or not... 

With that in mind, I wanted to explore growing some food around here.  I started a compost pile to cut down on landfill contributions, though it's gone a bit crazy at the moment.  I read some books.  I've considered adding chickens to fertilize, weed and eat my leftovers, but haven't gotten to that yet.  What we have done is begun some little experiments called "guilds". 

I'm so excited about guilds because they are a model that could effectively do all of the work I would normally have to do: fertilize, water, feed, kill bugs, draw pollinators, create habitat for beneficial sorts, crack open hardpan, and mulch.

I've created four guilds and will begin another three in the next month or so.  I have no idea if they will really work, but here is what I did for one of them:  All guilds begin with a simple tree, preferably one that has a few functions such as fruit, nuts, shade, or flowers.  Then around it I planted these guys:

*Nasturtiums-this flowering, fast grower is a soil fumigant-she keeps scores of destructive, plentiful-in-my-bad-soil organisms off of my tree's roots.  I planted scads of these from seed packets.

*Root vegetables-also from seed packets-radishes, rutabaga, carrots, mainly.  These break up the hard soil.  In fact, what we don't want to pull and eat, I can snap off the greens and eat them or toss back into bed for instant mulch and let the root rot in the ground, feeding the soil and providing food for worms. 

*Beans and snow peas-these fun vining varieties feed my lacking soil with much needed nitrogen.  From just a few plants, we munch on sweet, raw beans while we're out inspecting plants and removing weeds.  We haven't had enough to cook yet, but we will.  You can just poke a dry bean into the soil and have a plant in a few days. 

*Artichokes-these plants totally rule.  I bought some tiny cheapies at the nursery and they are going nuts.  Their big, spiky leaves fall off on the underside of the plant and create lots of mulch for the tree and the guild. 

*Strawberries-for groundcover-to shade the spots where the sun beats down on the earth and sucks away the nutrients.  Clover is also great for this and is a nitrogen fixer, too.

Though I putter around out there, nurturing the newer plants and asking them what I can do to help, soon, most of my work will be done.  These little communities have been created to take care of themselves so that I won't have to, except to eat them, smell them, or enjoy them visually. 

If the guilds flourish and become jungle-like, this will be the best thing I have ever learned and executed in my life.  I say this because it seems to come much easier to me to make my life more busy, difficult and overwhelming than to do things that make it run smoothly.

Privacy Please

My son is cracking me up.  Yesterday his book pick off of my shelf was "You Grow Girl" by Gayla Trail.  He took it all over the house with him, pausing to sit and flip through the pages, seeming to admire that it contains  illustrations, as well as real photos.  Today he is still on about it.  He has brought it to me to read, but only for a minute.  He mostly wants to enjoy it alone.  He opens it to the back flap and looks at Gayla's picture and points, making soft sounds.  I think he's in love!  I'm giddy that he wants to cart around a gardening book.  I'm going to go see if she has tee shirts in his size.

The Feminist What?

I've drank a bit too much coffee this morning and not had any breakfast yet.  This would explain part of the trembling that is moving from my head to my toes.  But not all of it.

A couple of days ago, I was sent a book review from U.S.A. Today by a dear friend who is a mother, a child advocate, a Marriage and Family Therapist and a feminist.  The book is called "The Feminist Mistake", a marketing play on words from feminist superhero Betty Freidan's The Feminine Mystique. The subheading for the article read: "is a well-crafted cautionary tale for women of all ages."  Though the review does point out that Leslie Bennetts' weakness is that her "campaign for financial autonomy is so shrill and unrelenting that it borders on a harangue,"  it promotes Bennetts' book, the main point of which hinges on the idea that "Women should make work a top priority with the lifelong goal of self-sufficiency". 

It is tempting for me to ask where Bennetts has been while her two children were growing up?  I want to lash out in anger at her for steering women away from their children and toward their careers.  Why?  Because her premise reeks of her own trust issues, which she barfs out on women who are taking care of their first responsiblity: the children they chose to bring into this world.  I suppose I am trembling because this review says nothing about the decision to not have children in favor of a career.  It sounds like women should strive for it all, marriage, work, and children-however neglecting of the marriage and children that may be.  Because after you've nailed the perfect American life, hurry back to work so you can self-preserve. 

I'm projecting, of course.  Like I do.  I haven't read the book.  But I already hate it.  Haranguing?  Is she attempting to bully women into neglecting their children because of her mother's and grandmother's weaknesses?  I just don't get it.

My friend, the one who forwarded the review, wrote a rebuttal to be published here and hopefully elsewhere.  I'm pretty sure the ezine gets mailed to your inbox, so do check it out to read the complete rebuttal. 

In the meantime, here's a tidbit: "While I can appreciate Leslie Bennett's message to women regarding the importance of financial autonomy, it is not as black and white as she seems to portray it.  I take exception to the idea that women who drop out of the workforce or scale back when they have children are making a mistake or running the risk of derailing their careers. It need not be that way."

And more: "Perhaps women need to ask themselves this question: Which matters most--my children or my career? If the answer is their career, it is a crime that they bothered to have children. I have counseled too many clients whose issues started with the abandonment and neglect they experienced as children because they had a working mom as well as a working dad or perhaps an absent dad. Kids that are put into daycare after mom's maternity leave is up without a thought to the abandonment and neglect they will experience at being away from their primary caregiver all day are the kids we see today with behavioral problems from anger to aggression/violence to ADD, childhood depression, anxiety, and other lifelong problems occurring with greater frequency than ever before. Women do not have to give up a career entirely if it is important to them, but parents need to put their child's needs first." 

One of my favorite blogmamas also has a strong sentiment worth reading.  She presents the economic facts about women in the workplace.

I have very strong feelings about what our personal damage drives us to do.  Children are always the sacrafices for our shit.  It angers me, saddens me, hits me like a boot in the belly to see neglect and abuse everywhere I go.  In my opinion Bennetts is using her Vanity Fair status to push her ideas that children will be fine without their parents. 

The woman I love to listen to calls this The Tulip Theory: "Many, but not all, of these women were not well-nurtured themselves, or they have a low bar for what they think children need, because they may not have been sufficiently mothered as much as children need to be nurtured. So, they are a little cold to the idea of mothering, which is one of the long-term side effects of daycare and nannys. These wonderfully strong and creative women are operating on the Tulip Theory. They think that everything the child needs is inside, just like everything the tulip needs is in the bulb. They think that children need a good home in a good neighborhood, a good school, a good nanny or day care provider, a good role model, and they will be fine. They actually think the issue is about quality daycare. They have different ideas of what "fine" is than we do. They don't know that any and every child (who doesn't actually have a physical brain abnormality or disability) can be a genius and can go for greatness. They don't realize that they are settling for less. They don't know that their children need them, and no one else can take their place. They don't know that there are degrees of impact on the child who is farmed out, depending upon how young and for how long. They don't know that this is a mental health issue."

Amen, sisters.

Be sure to share what you think.  What a great opportunity for us all to get vulnerable and talk about our fears and what we're doing with them.

Fertilizer

  There is a strong motivating force working on my heels to keep me moving forward into the unknown. I know that potential lies there, awaiting my arrival. I am no longer in the beginning of this growth cycle, but somewhere in the middle. I will soon find a bountiful treasure, as I've been picking up threads leading to it for some time now. It can only lead me to more pitfalls, then more treasure. I don't mind that some truths are being withheld from me, I think they may scare me off of my path anyway. I'm exhausted from thinking, working, feeling all of the messages my body has for me. But I can't stop working.

Thought for the day: Chickenshit makes mighty good fertilizer.

Reading:

The Drama of the Gifted Child, Alice Miller
Mary Jane's Ideabook Cookbook Lifebook: For the Farmgirl in All of Us, Mary Jane Butters
The House at Pooh Corner

"Pooh tried to think of something he would say, but the more he thought, the more he felt that there is no real answer to "Ho-ho!" said by a Heffalump in the sort of voice this Heffalump was going to say it in.
"I shan't say anything," said Pooh at last. "I shall just hum to myself, as if I was waiting for something."