Again, I recall the great
vision you gave me.
It may be that some little
root of
The sacred tree still lives.
Nourish it then
That it may leaf and
bloom and
Fill with singing birds!
Hear me, that the People
may once again
Find the good road and the
shielding tree.
-Black Elk
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Bundle, 2009.
I'm so grateful for your comments and emails about the owl. Sometimes I feel sort of...unlike many of my blogging sisters. It's always reassuring to receive emails about your personal experiences with animals. I feel proud of the way that many of you have honored creatures in your own neighborhoods and hearts.
Above is a bundle that I made this weekend; inside are dried plants, shells and other items symbolic of beauty, feminine archetypes, the creative fire, water elements, companionship, and gratitude. Healers and medicine people often assemble pouches or bags with *help* packed in them, and that's precisely what this is. On the outside is a letter I've written to my soul, a crow feather, some cedar I found in the woods and an owl talon from my teacher. I am very honored that she would gift me with this.
Today, peace came in the form of a baby who rested, a friend who came to town for lunch, a leisurely stroll in the yarn store, laughter at dinnertime, plenty of time outside in the crisp air, and a heart that breathed beyond an anxious story about all that wasn't getting done...
Peace all around.
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There seem to be an abundance of great retreats being hosted at the moment, and it makes my heart sing to see women sitting in more and more circles, connecting and awakening to the depth of their own souls.
My longtime medicine teacher gathers a group in the mountains once a year and I've missed the last few. So this time, dearest husband stayed five minutes from camp (thanks to Amazing Diane) and I was able to participate while he and the wees explored mountain tops nearby. Isn't it so good to have deep friends and rich nature all in one weekend? *happy sigh*
These are the times when I put myself on the hook to try to find the hang ups that prevent me from creating peace in my life. Between the dreams, readings, healings, drumming, dancing, yoga, meditation, and time spent alone in the woods, it's impossible not to go into deep reflection. This is what I love about retreat, the renewal and enlivenment of spirit that one can come home with.
What came up for me, as I was flitting between activities and opting out of others in favor of getting outside to breathe the air of my favorite pines, is that... I am addicted to overwhelm. {stomach heave}
Here's what it looks like:
I tend to run myself a little bit late, and then I am flustered when I get to where I'm going. I fill my calendar just a little too full, spread myself to those in need a bit too thin, and therefore operate under a pattern of stress with all of the nasty sidecars: suppressed immunity, few emotional reserves, able to go short distances but wear out when endurance is needed. I can seriously make any easy task into a tragedy if I'm unaware. It's not easy to admit this because now I have to do something about it. Shit!
Having children has made this pattern seem justifiable. Friends say things like, "You're under rested, you're a new mom! Of course you're only operating on half a brain!" Implying that the reddish-black circles under my eyes are all perfectly normal. The truth is that this was going on long before kids came into my life, but I was able to collapse for three days at a time if needed, or be sick, etc., stealthily hiding my *habit* a bit.
Being addicted to overwhelm feels victimy to me when I hold it up to the light. (There's that message again). I don't feel that I'm proficient about making decisions that are grounded in self care. I'm determined to find a way to turn it around. I feel a responsibility, not only to myself, to be able to teach Miles and Ivy how to honor and take care of themselves.
These are my lessons. All mixed up in a big soup with my joy, my love and my offerings to you.
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The first Sunday of the month is my day. Since 2003, with a few short breaks for babies, I've been sitting in a circle of women in the Los Padres National Forest to connect, heal and do all of the rad things that women do when there are no boys around. Like weep openly just because we're so grateful to have each other, hug for no reason, journey for messages for each other, feast, celebrate the animals and the earth, drum, rattle, and explore the teachings of the ancient ones. When we have to skip a month, I really feel it. I've come to rely on this circle and others like it to re-center me.
As Blue and I were heading out (the Goddess of Blue rides in the car much more now), I spotted a bird on the roadside. I passed it because, Ugh, I didn't feel like dealing with roadkill today and I was already late. About a mile away, I turned back. I didn't feel I could leave it there. Animal medicine is part of what this circle is all about. I phoned Brandon to tell him to meet me at the gate with supplies: rubber gloves, cat litter, cardboard box. When I got back to it and got a good look, I saw that it was a Great Horned Owl. Which is really strange because barn owls are a dime a dozen here, but I've never seen a GH.
It's qualities, as far as I know, is really simple-it's quite a formidable bird with a large giant beak and furry legs that lead to enormous talons. In the tradition of the elders, we harvested wings, tail feathers, and claws and gave it a ceremonial wrap and burial complete with songs, sage and a prayer. This may sound a bit macabre to some, but it's what we do. It's very sad for the animal who has lost it's life, presumably this one to electrical wires, as so many are. One way of honoring it, and all that it has to teach, is to use the feathers in ceremonies or gift them to those who might need them for healing work.
Owls teach us about the feminine aspects. I also call on Owl to help me practice flexibility-think of the magnificent range of motion of their heads. When my neck is sore, which it often is, I ask myself what it is that I must learn to be more flexible about. Usually, the answer lies somewhere among having too-high expectations, thinking in a rigid or controlling way, or needing a break from the pressure of deadlines. I know, loosen up, Pixie.
Owls are survivors, they can adapt to almost any environment. This comes in handy to remember, too.
I'm so grateful for my life, my friends, and the messages and blessings that continue to find inroads to me. I'm so grateful that you stopped by!
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...and carrying water here this week. The do list is long and my desire to be awake is short.
I sat in my women's medicine circle in the mountains today and it felt like a deep retreat for my soul. We haven't met in several months because summer just runs away out from under a person, doesn't it?
I want to tell you how strongly I feel about hearts healing all over this planet. Is anyone else experiencing this? Letting go of things you never thought you could? Standing firm on your own two feet? Overcoming an impossible obstacle? Understanding how that thing you thought was horrible worked out rather well? Learning that same old lesson less and less? Change is happening, loves. Something is different. And I dig it.
I have had some powerful dreams lately, some having to do with Miles and some shapeshifting animals. He has big healer energy, but I mustn't let him in on that secret. It is so profoundly magical to see one's children unfold and become. I am learning to nurture what I did not know I would need to. Parenthood is full of mysteries untold. I don't want to get caught up in how I grieve the moments which I forget, but I do.
The computer has been draining my energy a bit lately. My heart has been in need of a balm. Slowing down to nourish myself with friendship, food, guidance and to keep company with the wise tree people was the perfect fit.
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On the fridge, torn from an old Communication Arts magazine.
Nalu inspires me to practice *letting it be*. In Hawaiian, it means wave-but spiritually, it translates as "ride the wave". Riding the wave is an aspect I hope to grow more skilled at with practice. Pono is balance, like a surfer on a board. Having a husband who learned to surf when he was very young means that water metaphors come up often when we're discussing how to make life work for us. In Tao, water flows around it's obstacles, never complaining about the rocks in its way. It just just gracefully finds where it is meant to go, carving out a path when necessary and travelling well-worn canyons easily.
Adding more beauty in my work space is helping me flow through it happily. I've enjoyed bringing color and organization to the area where I spend time trying to meet self-imposed deadlines. I find that I stay in my seat and get the work done when I have inspiring things around. It surprises me that I've just gotten around to this task, but I suppose things unfold in their own time.
I'm so happy with this fabric! It's Bird on a Wire in raspberry, by Echino.
I got half a yard spontaneously when a different print I ordered wasn't available- and it wasn't quite enough to cover my little table, so I improvised and sewed some flaxy linen all around it. It's a nice, heavy upholstery weight printed linen, so I think it works well. It also comes in an oilcloth, wouldn't that be fun for a picnic table?
Just going with the flow over here. :)
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A couple of weeks ago I got the hook up from Mati Rose on Facebook about a little folkish duo, Renee & Jeremy, and their KEWT video. I immediately clicked over and bought tickets to see them play at a little nature & music festival in the park. The funny thing is that they played at the creepy old zoo site at Griffith Park in historical Los Feliz, literally 2 minutes from where we lived in L.A. before we headed for the hills nine years ago. An added bonus is that Tom Freund played and we loved he and his funky band. (He played a medley of You Are My Sunshine and This Land is Your Land and I got all choked up. Why do songs like this cause such a tug? Or am I just a sentimental dweeb?) Both bands were great and it was so wonderful just to be lying on the grass outside under the sycamores!
It was a really sweet show and though the craft booths were pretty lo-fi, it was an amazingly beautiful day and Miles thought it was the "most funnest day" (to quote one of his friends).
We did a little snugglin',
A little jammin',
A little snackin',
A little drinkin',
A little more drinkin'- my kinda drinkin'!
And finally... a little sleepin'.
It was a very good day...
In other news, I do believe I've changed my mind. I would like to go to Squam Art Workshops this year. Before Ivy arrived, I didn't know what I'd be up for! But now I know. Except, I don't quite know how I'm going to pull it off. Being jobless with a noob doesn't exactly lend itself to cross country travel to connect with likes and deepen one's craft... Hmmmn. I'm determined to find a way to make it work.
Meantime, I've added one more painting to the shop (+ prints) and there will be three more added by weeks end. Pinky swear!
;)
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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.
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Call me cheesy Gen-Xer, but I loves my Soundgarden.
HANDS ALL OVER THE EASTERN BORDER
YOU KNOW WHAT? I THINK WE'RE FALLING
FROM COMPOSURE
HANDS ALL OVER WESTERN CULTURE
RUFFLING FEATHERS AND TURNING EAGLES INTO VULTURES
GOT MY ARMS AROUND BABY BROTHER
PUT YOUR HANDS AWAY
YOUR GONNA KILL YOUR MOTHER, KILL YOUR MOTHER
AND I LOVE HER
HANDS ALL OVER THE COASTAL WATERS
THE CREW MEN THANK HER
THEN LAY DOWN THEIR OILY BLANKET
HANDS ALL OVER THE INLAND FOREST
IN A STRIKING MOTION TREES FALL DOWN
LIKE DYING SOLDIERS
HANDS ALL OVER THE PEASANT'S DAUGHTER
SHE'S OUR BRIDE
SHE'LL NEVER MAKE IT OUT ALIVE
HANDS ALL OVER WORDS I UTTER
CHANGE THEM INTO WHAT YOU WANT TO
LIKE BALLS OF CLAY
PUT YOUR HANDS AWAY
YOUR GONNA KILL YOUR MOTHER
AND I LOVE HER
AND SHE LOVES ME
Hands All Over, Chris Cornell & Kim Thayall
photo, Diane Grupe Marshall
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He who bends to himself a joy
Doth the winged life destroy;
But he who kisses the joy as it flies
Lives in Eternity's sunrise.
--William Blake
Life is moment to moment more than ever for the Campbells these days.
What juicy joy did you kiss this weekend?
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I'd been wondering lately if it might be interesting to Miles to learn a bit about what it is I do when I'm off sitting in the "circles" he has become so familiar with me leaving for. He seems curious when I return, full of questions and sniffing me, etc. I imagined taking a few short, private moments of us connecting to the elements as a family and honoring him with medicine that will help him on his journey into becoming a brother, and introducing him to a few of his helpers.
When I walked around the property looking for a good place to set up the rocking chair Brandon found for him, I spotted a hawk feather on the ground-pretty rare find, though we do have a mating pair that nest very near here, so I took it as an auspicious sign and added it to the bundle I'd made for him. Then I adorned the chair and assembled a few sacred items and fetched the boys to meet me outside. I placed the chair facing the East, symbolizing a new journey, a beginning.
He wanted to open the package immediately, and in it was a medicine bag (and he exclaimed, "It's a medicine bag! It's what I've always wanted!") containing objects representing each of us in our family, including the new little one on her way. He put it on right away. I made a cornmeal circle around him and we asked the directions for their blessings with sage and herbs and then we gave him a jar of birdseed to scatter as an offering to the winged helpers that assist with medicine of the East.
It was short and sweet and we felt it would be meaningful to him later in life to know that not only are we here to help him along with any struggles he might have, but that he has wisdom within and around him that he can access at any time to guide him when he needs to call upon it. I want him to feel the support of his relations as he travels his path. It was very special to have that time with him, and it's made me look forward to incorporating more ritual into our lives to mark special transitions-I have always included it for myself, but now it is time to involve my family a bit more.
Tonite we head out to feast with friends in honor of our baby boy growing up-and you should know his prerequisite for choosing a restaurant was that they offer "a lot of chocolatey desserts."
We love you, Miles Lighthorse. May your path always be illuminated, son.
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Winter is hard on birds, and so we set out to hang some treats for them when the weather got bad. Inspired over at the Crafty Crow, we made garlands out of figs, dried pineapple, raisins, dried cranberries, cheerios and squash bits.
We cut the necks of some butternut squash that weren't making it into meals into donut-like shapes, slathered them with peanut butter and dipped them in seed.
They've been a huge hit and do not look pretty like this anymore.
And the one who did not make it-a Cooper's hawk I found dead near our house. I believe she may have gotten buzzed on a high wire. I've prepared her for burial with tobacco, herbs and white sage and Mr. B will help me do the honors when he comes home from the office. Hawks are messengers, and their medicine, mysterious. They always call on me to listen to what is getting lost on the breeze. They inspire far-sightedness, vision and right allocation of resources.
May your gullets be full and your wings be high in flight today...
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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?
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I'm thinking of taking a no plastics for a week pledge to raise my own awareness of how much plastic our household consumes (then tosses into the recycling bin....or not, in some cases of saran and other baddies). If you haven't seen pictures of the Great Pacific Garbage Dump, it may alarm you into swearing off of polymers, too. Olga Naidenko's article at Enviroblog came across my inbox and led me on a scavenger hunt, which led me to this funny gal from Oakland, who is doing all sorts of neat comparisons to decide which commonly used grocery and household items we can replace in order to avoid adding to the plastic grossness. Anyone know of a great plastic-wrapping-free cheese from CA?
Every once in a frequent while, I need to reassess consumption around here. Miles birthday was an example of a lot of excess wrapping paper, plastic toys, giant gift bags, and things that I will be trying to find a home for when Spring cleaning and the nesting season kicks in. I can tell you that this Christmas there will be major moratoriums. If I thought I could do it, I would commit to handmaking all of our gifts, but I just don't know what I'll have time for. I don't think it will be that challenging to select or make thoughtful, minimumally-packaged gifts, but I will forego Tyvek (which I don't use that much of anyhow) in favor of small boxes and no stuffin for the peeps far away .
Is it that time of year already!? I'm going to try to put a list of my favorite gifts together again this year and also just throw out there that not giving gifts is totally ok with me, too. What about you? Would it ruin the holidays to adore someone in such a way that doesn't involve the purchase or exchange of items? Of course, it is a little harder with the wee ones.
Totally changing the subject...
Design Studio, 5:20 am this morning:
Knitting Schmitting, are you tired of hearing about it yet?
Ten things I love about knitting:
1. Totally portable, follows me from room to room, to work or dr.'s office in the bottom of my purse and can be stopped and started at any time.
2. Kiddie-friendly, can be dropped immediately to wipe someone's bum or kiss a boo boo, with no handwashing or de-chemicalling required to do so.
3. When natural materials are used, they can all go straight back to the earth (or compost pile) without harming groundwater or future generations.
4. My workshop is in bed. Or anywhere I want it to be in the moment!
5. Doesn't cut into my social life. With a headphone on, I can talk on the phone and do it. (nice social life)
6. Near instant gratification
7. Yarn that stretches even just a little forgives the advanced beginner
8. The colors the colors the COLORS!!!!
9. Cackling women that discuss the male anatomy in art while knitting in the yarn shop crack me up and help me fix my mistakes
10. Silence and sitting still have never been so fun
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I started a new knitting project last night that I'm kind of excited about. It's a pair of legwarmers to stick out the top of my boots-likely for after the holidays at this rate, with it being so warm out! I always loved legwarmers, but we don't have a strong motivation to wear them in CA. I run a bit cold, so perhaps I'll get some use out of them... I'm using some cheap ass yarn from Jo-Ann, leftover from Hurricane Holli's visit this summer, when we set out to knit a storm and ended up with a sprinkle. It will be good enough to figure out my pattern and learn how many stitches it will take to wrap around my chickeny legs, though I may have to reknit it 3 times. Because who needs patterns, right?? And I plan to stitch them up the back since I'm using straight needles, but once I sort it all out I'll have to make them on circulars like a sane person.
I am declaring No More Cheap Ass Yarn, which means no more shopping at Jo-Ann and that hideous Michael's, which I am loathe to even set foot in. Their yarn lacks personality, and all comes from suspicious sources. We have a wonderful yarn store here and of course there are Purl Soho and The Yarn Tree to buy from online, but closer would even be better. Anyone know of a great west coast yarn supplier online?
I am going to have to move my family to a colder climate if wool is my new medium of choice! I have to turn on the air conditioning just to test out my scarves!! I love wool because, when grown and harvested consciously, no one gets hurt, it is completely non-toxic, and working with it is a tradtional living art that is so functional yet can be very ornamental, personal and artistic. I suppose the sheep eventually become mutton pie, though. Yikes. Check out these gourmet babes.
I love this ranch because they are working so hard with native animals, seeking truly creative solutions to keeping their flocks safe. I admire the effort that they are putting into conservation. Wolves just think sheep are yummy. Can you blame them?
Happy day, you.
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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?
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What a lovely weekend I've had with my favorite mountain medicine women. When we gather, we seldom have a plan (except for food, of course!) and the weekend unfolds as it is supposed to. We've become so tuned in on this path, that we often make easy connections between what is going on for each of us and that unofficially becomes the theme of the retreat. This weekend was all about finding peace in the midst of the unknown.
I found in my journeywork that it is easy for me to spend time in the realm of seeking treasures underground-my mole medicine was very strong! My message was that I need to come up above ground and learn how to BE when there is pure chaos going on around me. I have pulled into my safe cave since giving birth over 2 years ago. I don't even have cable or watch TV, and most certainly don't read the newspaper. It isn't that I don't want to empathize with what is going on for people, or be involved with the world, I have just been using my energy differently to benefit myself and others.
I also feel like I am finally coming to peace with my job as a bodyworker. There are about 10 other jobs I would love to try, but right now, I love the job I have and it has been so good to my family and me. (I go to work to relax, as we say at the spa). The clientele I've built are the goodliest people I could ever wish to see each week. I think that I take what I have acheived for granted at times and just yearn for the next adventure. I'm trying hard to love what I am doing and what I have at the moment. That includes living in this town where only one day out of every five is a healthy air day! Hard to sit still in this, but I'm trying.
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M touches Auntie Chris's tummy belly (TB).
Off for another round of gathered women to celebrate the magical changing of the seasons and commune with nature. This group always seems to gather when my body needs mass quantities of rest or nuturing of some kind. This week my neck and shoulder are giving me such grief! I'm looking foward to sitting by a fire and asking someone to put their healing hands on me. I need to plug in and recharge!
I'll be thinking of you from far above sea level...
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