Pink Coyote

Early Birds Catch the Nests and Fairies

It's not to early to shop for Mother's Day, seeing as how it falls right on the heels of Easter, right? Here are some of my favorite items I want to pimp for the occasion. I'm betting you'll see more here in the coming weeks.

Mamanest necklaces by Wendy Cook. Last I checked, there were only five of these rustic beauties left. She will include any amount of eggs that you like, in pearl or turquoise. Funds raised benefit her magnificent Mighty Girl Art Camp, an empowerment day camp for girls in the D.C. area. Wendy's vision is something I truly believe in. I love the sacred way she conducts motherhood and her art camps. And I can't wait to wear my Nesty!

Erin Darcy's ethereal Faery Mama card sets are so soft and goddessy. Erin and her angelic baby Claire have become my sweethearts and I'm in love the work that Erin creates.

Both of these wild women are close to my heart. I love sharing their work with you.

 

 

I Virtually Love You

Blurry and imperfect, me and Nina Beana in Portsmouth New Hampshire for ETA last Fall.

It's been a while since I've ranted frothily here, so in the spirit of intimacy, I'm going to give it a go.

I have crushed on many bloggers and artists since my capacity to virtually love increased one millionfold six years ago. And the subject has come up among peers again and again, the notion that how someone appears online is never who they really are. I don't want to spoil anyone's lofty vision of anyone else, because I believe there is a purpose in idolotry to a certain extent. It helps us strive to claim that power within us that they seem to personify and reflect back at us.

[Insert random thought] If it wasn't late at night, I would go snapping photos of how imperfect my own life is to demonstrate. Baseboards undusted for ....er... months? Laundry heaped up. Gunk on fridge shelves. A checkbook with gaps between entries for things I know I've forgotten and need to check online banking to decode. Piles. More piles. Half finished supplies orders. Children's toys all over the floor of my studio. My studio space is appearing extremely un-sacred in this moment. Nine large post-its of to-do's. In a world where so many of us value that one has one's proverbial shit together, I am earning about a C minus. But still, I feel valued, adored even, in this space. Which perhaps goes to show that the gunk doesn't matter as much as the heart, but still. I know because I'm guilty of it, too: we project perfection. But I digress yet again.

Here's my beef, and it has nothing to do with comparing our weaknesses to what we perceive a virtual acquaintance's strengths to be. What is disheartening is that I've experienced with several real life friends a false sense of intimacy with me because they follow my blog or tune into my feeds at social network sites. Even my own mother is guilty of it. (Hi, Mom.) Twice in a month I've lost touch with a couple of friends that do not have the online presence that I do. When I've shared with them that I feel disconnected, both of them explained that they have felt connected to me because they read my blog or posts, etc.

This leaves me sad. The reason is because a virtual experience is no substitute for really knowing someone or checking in with them to connect, at least voice to voice, if not face to face. While life is full of busy challenges that I can more than relate to, I just want to point out-not that I want more from these folks-but that it isn't the same. Appreciating the work Misty Mawn does (one of my artistic heroes) is not the same as telling her so in a personal email (at very least). Seeing my grieving friend pour out her heart on her blog about loss is not the same as calling her and asking if she wants to cry in my ear. Admiring my cousin's new baby on Facebook is not the same as making time to meet her or hear her cooing on the other end of the phone line.

I'm asking myself to take a deeper look at how much I rely on technology to keep me connected. I'm happy to report that I have dates to camp with an amazing close group of warrioresses at the end of the month, catch a show with a friend I have a mostly virtual relationship with, help another one pack to move to her dream home, and sit in sacred ceremony with a handful of local medicine people mid-month. If not for these "dates" on the calendar, I think I'd be feeling very out of balance.

Blessed we are to have this space to connect to each other online, but I am also responding to a wild, deeeep yearning within to get my arms around those I hold dear, kiss their babies, take them food, send them on their journeys, see them loving their partners, and touch their art in person.

Because I'll be at June and September SAW and October SERENDIPITY, I will be face-to-face with many of you. And that's how I like to connect best. I like to hug and cuddle, what can I say? Blessed, blessed, blessed. We are so blessed.

The Mystic Vixen formerly and affectionately known as Blue Poppy,
Elizabeth Macrellish, and I, Squam Art Workshops Vendor Night, 2009.

All You Need

I love this boy, his wide open heart and sponge of a mind, his love of the natural ways of the earth and wind, his free spirit and compassion for living things.

I love waking up to intense sunshine streaming through the front window, even when she cries, "Too briiiight!"

I love growing-slowly, painfully, crooked at times, as a fool for love, and poetry.

I love my gloriously gifted friends and artists near to my heart, for their thoughts, their brilliant locomotion and originality.

I love giving someone a chance that could save their lives.

I love this giveaway.

I love releasing again and again, as there is always something to give back to the earth for transformation.

I love this book, by Sandra Ingerman.

I love hating something about myself and finding a way to be kind and love it instead.

I love our new tax accountant! A thousand blessings on Blake!

I love the promise of Spring, the gentle and light gift it brings on the breeze, mornings warm enough to open all the windows.

I love that love is enough, in so many instances. All of them, actually. If words and actions are done with love, from a place of love for humankind and this planet, everything would be possible. Everything is possible. Right now.

County Fair

On a horse called Blue

In her big brother's shoes

It was a lovely time with you.

Pokni

Ivy's lips curled up into a sad face when her Great Granny came to our home for a visit today, but it didn't take long for them to become buds. I wasn't here when my Grammy left, but I heard that my daughter was very sad to see her go. Miles played the mandolin and his violin for her and took photos of her shoes, which he loved because of the little sparkly studs on them.

Both children gravitated toward her in their own way. It makes me wish they were able to spend more time with her. Living near to my great and great-great grandparents was such a blessing for me as a child. They have such wisdoms to impart just by being near them.

My grandma is 85 and made the driving journey yet again from southeastern Oklahoma with some other family members to come to see her loved ones. Since my grandpa passed in March, she has been needing a getaway on her own. Her energy is more subdued than it once was, in a graceful, quiet way. I'm imagining that she is finally getting some rest now, after a very long road of being his primary caretaker.

She's got very loving hands and I love taking pictures of them. We used to poke fun at her for carrying her tissue or crumpled up napkin around for hours. But I do it, too. She picks at her fingernails, and so do I. Hers are busy hands that have long loved rolling out biscuit dough and frying up bacon, piecing together quilts, grinding sausage and hulling peas.

Though we never call her pokni, the Chahta name for grandmother, I like the way it sounds. She is our wise and living ancestor; one whom I've been so blessed to share so many years with.

I honor Willie Laverne today and you, too, for we are all wise ones who are earning our beautiful hands just as she has done.

Yum

Just sayin.

Journey to the Sun

Marion Clinton Carr, 1925-2010. With his "Daddy", sometime around the 1950's.

My Grandpa was a jolly, old Badger with a wonderful wit and a lovely flavor for bluegrass music. His father was full-blooded Choctaw and a translator for the Oklahoma court system. He was also quite a drinker-though my grandfather did not follow his example. He was a strong bull of a man in his day and he always tried to make good choices for his family. He was extremely creative at making a simple living; he and my grandmother came from a generation that never really wanted, or wanted for anything, save for their family to have enough to eat, and to be happy. He never, ever forgot a kindness, including the burrito I made him for lunch when I was 11 years old. He was our peanut-farming patriarch and he is the reason why I believe so much in the idea of family.

As I sift through my reservoir of memories, it's the things my sweet Grandpa said that stand out the most. Sentimentality seemed difficult for him, though he made the most sincere go of it.

"I love you, Grandpa."

"I do you, too."

"See you later, Grandpa."

"Come here and hug my neck."

His old, familiar diction imprinted me for life. He was surely a creature of habit. As soon as he was finished with breakfast, he'd ask about what time supper would be and...what do you think we'll have? He was the last to leave the table, chewing on a chicken bone and stuffing a biscuit and bacon sandwich in his pocket for later. He taught me what to say if you want to pull your mule team to the right or to the left. He told the very same stories again and again, to our delight and rolling eyes. I love the way his children humored him and he always delivered the jokey goods. He once poured freezing cold water on my Grandma while she showered-his pranks were sometimes more fun in the telling than in the moment.

He was a Badger, storymaking...keeping our family fat on memories of history as he recounted it.

He sat in his worn out chair, in their last days in California, humming gospel songs and slipping in a Hank Williams now and again, to my grandmother's shaking head and wagging finger. In fact, he suggested I rename my dog Blue Audrey so that I would have a pair like the real Hank and his wife. Except that in his Oklahoma drawl, he pronounced it "Ardrie".

Ivy and I will make the journey back to the the homeland tomorrow, along with my dad, to pay our respects, to slip a little travellin' medicine into his time machine, revisit some more memories, and to love on Grandma. 

Grandfather Sun, I listen to your teachings.

I feel your guidance.

Your warmth fills me.

You make me grow unshakeable in spirit and mind.

Aho.

Mitakuye Oyasin.

On the other side, then.

River Santuario

"The creative force flows over the terrain of our psyches looking for the natural hollows, the arroyos, the channels that exist in us. We become its tributaries, its basins; we are its pools, ponds, streams and sanctuaries. The wild creative force flows into whatever beds we have for it, those we are born with as well as those we dig with our own hands. We don't have to fill them, we only have to build them.

Once  that great underground river finds its estuaries and branches in our psyches, our creative lives fill and empty, rise and fall, in seasons just like a wild river. These cycles cause things to be made, fed, fall back, and die away, all in their own right time, and over and over again.

Creating one thing at a certain point in the river feeds those who come to the river, feeds creatures far downstream, yet others in the deep. Creativity is not a solitary movement. That is its power. Whatever is touched by it, whoever hears it, sees it, senses it, knows it, is fed. That is why beholding someone else's creative word, image, idea, fills up, inspires us to our own creative work. A single creative act has the potential to feed a continent. One creative act can cause a torrent to break through stone.

Wild Woman's river nurtures and grows us into beings that are like her: life givers. As we create, this wild and mysterious being is creating us in return, filling us with love. We are evoked in the way creatures are evoked by sun and water. We are made so alive that we in turn give life out; we burst, we bloom,, we divide and multiply, we impregnate, incubate, impart, give forth."

-excerpted from pgs 322-324, Women Who Run With the Wolves.

Lovefest

Photo by Diane Marshall.

Love has a funny way of revealing itself in the strangest places, little reminders that we are adored and not alone. Do you have a story to share about feeling loved? Giving love?

Tell me a little about what you love the most.

Squam Squam Squam

Photo by Thea Coughlin.

You've heard it a million times, right? From all of us Squam bombs out here in blogland? It's becoming like a religious pilgrimage, isn't it?

One of the many aspects I love about SAW is how a good retreat booked far in advance can really set the tone for my year and help me to keep my pace steady as I grow creatively. I feel like it gives me something to reach my branches toward, and to take the steps I need to get to where I'm going before I arrive on the rocky steps of the Temple of the Creative Forest.

Rockywold Deephaven Camps, where SAW is held, was founded by two women, who I believe must have intuitively sensed the feminine, creative quality of the camps. Men who come to SAW at RDC seem very in touch with the creative vitality within them. Women who attend seem to be answering the natural, inner call to connect to that creative life-force inside. Children (okay, Miles is the only example I really have!) go positively into an artistic trance once they pick up on what is going on.

The camp is even shaped quite like a womb, the perfect place to plant the seeds of your creative intention and watch them take off into the sky on unfurled wings.

When I attended two years ago, I only knew that I was called to go, I had no idea what I'd be doing in the next couple of years. Ivy was cocooning in my belly and I was intent on not making any big plans or designing expectations I wouldn't be able to meet. What I did do was connect. I communed with new and old friends in my pregnant state and allowed myself to be without a purpose other than being present there. I trusted that the meaning of it would come to me when it was supposed to.

It was January a year ago when it hit me. I picked up the paintbrush, dusty with art school years behind me, and in a burst of fertile flames I began painting with no idea about what I would do next.

What came through felt like, and still does, a culmination of everything I love the most. The concepts of symbols I'd been studying, the circles I'd been sitting in, the animals running across my paths and through my dreams, color chips that had been taped into journals...it suddenly all made sense and all I could do was MAKE. I was freed from thinking about it!

A little aperture was giving way to a great opening, I'd become willing to embrace the unknown and allow my creative stirrings and the muse meet each other.

I realized during that winter transition how Squam Art Workshops had impacted me. It's creative energy gently held me that first Fall, never forcing the birth, just cradling the energy. I hadn't planned on attending this past Fall, but when Ivy was just two months old, I felt the urgent need to be there, and so the pioneering efforts to make the trek with the whole family were laid.

After the new sessions were announced last week, a unique opportunity arose for me to teach at The Pixie Session in August. Like so many times since I took myself to that maple and white pine wood, I have been summoned to show up and share something of myself.

I'll be teaching a mixed-media painting class which incorporates the use of animal totems, as well as a kids-and-parents class where we'll make forest floor finds/fiber arts folk full of symbols to carry back home with you and draw upon when you need it. I'm so excited to do this with families that my heart is about to burst!

My hope is that you will be able to experience what Squam has provided me with:  a well of creative energy and connected communal peeps to feed your soul with all year long, building the foundation and support for your artistic life.

In whatever glorious form it may take.

Owls and More Owls

 

 

Ann Wood is so amazing. Perfect for this wicked week, don't you think?

Any more owl encounters out there? I'll be posting up a bit more about them tomorrow, eyes to the night sky in the meantime, okay?

Countdown

In 41 hours we'll be landing in Boston bound for Portsmouth, NH to linger for the morning with friends and friendliness before heading to Squam Lake for 5 days of creative goddess hedonism!

I'm up, secretly blogging while everyone else sleeps. This is not to say that I'm not practicing self-care, though I'd best be hitting hay soon. I've been taking care of myself this week by asking for help-with Blue, with children, with food, when I need to talk to a good friend who knows just what to say, with washing machines that won't spin. I've been opening, stretching..opening a little more and receiving. So hard for some of us to do! But so worth it to realize that those around me genuinely want to help...ME.

Thank you all for your kind words about Blue. Today was a good day, one of treats and frolicking on the lawn with her buddies and roaming around the inside of the house, sniffing the stove and begging. Knowing we have limited time with her has brought up so much conversation around here...life is short. This we all know. And yet something shifts unexpectedly each time it happens, does it not? Something so simple like a lifecycle can have deep and jarring impacts each. different. time.

I'm so grateful for my life, for my time here. And for YOU.

Need a Laugh?

Mondays sometimes just wake me up on the wrong side of the bed. This FOTC song has been creeping in and infects me with the giggles. I can't get it out of my head, even when no mutha-uckas are uckin wi my shih. Warning: Cursing may be unsavory for the workplace!

Smile

"Every time that I think of you I smile for a while. That's the one thing you always do You always smile, smile, smile." --Dan Zanes

 

This is an old post from December of 2006 that bears repeating. Girlie Blue isn't feeling tip-top. We are awaiting test results and would like to ask for good mojo for her. She's a good friend to me and is in need of some healing. 

In splendid gratitude,

p

Happy. Joy.

 

Someone was very happy to attend two birthday parties this weekend: Baby Gavin turned one on Saturday, and Justin (my husband's friend from high school) turned forty. Justin's mama makes the best a mean gourmet potato salad (ok, not better than my mom's, but very good, indeed) and she also made her own rosemary bread which I would have maimed someone for more, had there not been strawberry cake coming my way across the table.

The weekends have a way of turning into a mad rush to get "things" done while there are four adult hands on deck, so it was very good to celebrate and be festive instead of being workaholics. Miles ran around shooting squirt guns on the grass with a couple of other kids and continuing to hatch out of his reserved little shell. I love being out in the world with these children.

In other news, I own far too many pillows. But that hasn't stopped me from coveting OIive. I must've clicked through a front page listing of hers and proceeded to lollygag around dreamily for an hour clicking back and forth, unwilling to close the window. I'm obsessed with cottages and buildings of all kinds and her little house pillows are so charming. I hearted her. Then she tracked me down and fell in love with one of my paintings and put it on her blog (check out her beautiful home pics, too). I love it when mutual hearting happens. It just feels good. Is it possible for virtual stores to exude good energy? If so, then hers does.

Happy, happy. Joy. Joy.

Sweet Monkeys, etc.

A long, fun weekend was had...

Swimming

Birthday pizza-partying and bouncy house jumping

Reprioritizing

Letting go

Eating sea-salted tomatoes from my dad's garden with breakfast

Loving on new baby heads

Drool-dripping toddler kisses

Changing out dining tables

International video-Skyping (practicing, you know)

Making snow cones

Doing the Boom Boy dance

"Snuggles not struggles"

Finding teething gel that works

Packing without panic

New embroidery thread

Picking more peaches

Ivy finally takes a bottle of pumped milk (triumph!)

Comforter Ghost and foam ball fights

Girlfriends as neurotic about some things as I am

Not sweating that I don't know what to wear to east coast wedding next week

Drawing cottages, drawing breakthroughs

Buying mail lubbins on etsy for snail love

Tissue paper flowers not unlike the ones I made from toilet paper squares as a child

Sweet monkeys all around me

 

videos, scary butterflies and mondo cajones

i'm writing all small tonite. i feel a bit nervous.

i've been watching marisa at creative thursday with awe this week, sharing videos of herself that have a very vulnerable quality to them. i get butterflies when i watch them and i get them now just thinking about sharing my voice, not just in a tiny little embedded media player, but on a moving screen. along with my face. i've been RIVETED by marisa's  e-course i've been taking this month, concerning the artist's online presence. The course has been delivered weekly via podcast, followed up with a video between classes. i've really enjoyed the flexibility of the media as well as having a new way to interact virtually that seems....virtually intimate.

i tend to avoid these types of things. since i was very small and got my first tape recorder [those hulky, black, boxes with the giant keys you had to depress two of at the same time to begin recording], i have cringed at the sound of my own voice. i can hardly watch my own wedding video. after eleven anniversaries, i think i've watched it three or four times because of how self-conscious i am about hearing my own voice.

this does not stop me from talking-i loooove to talk. its just that i hear myself differently on a recorded device and i don't like the way it sounds. i have a friend who is a broadcaster in radio and before clearchannel took a dump this year, she used to phone me frantically- "My five-at-nine cancelled last second and I need you to make 5 requests on air...right NOW!"

on the spot recording makes me just about want to toss my cookies bigtime. so i'm trying to decide if the butterflies are indicating that this is something i need to explore or if my gut is telling me to run. away. fast.

funny, the things that challenge us. i can birth baby one and baby two, barely assisted in our home and be fearless. a little v-blog? shiver me timbers.

marisa sometimes says that she has had to do take after take. i fear it would take me all night and i am certain i would never be happy with it(the butterflies just took flight again).

what would i say? why would it matter?

hmmm. in the spirit of improving myself (facing fear=confidence) i want to try it, but in the spirit of cowardice, i want to dismiss it. i'm going to think on it.

i have to summon mondo cajones.

in only slightly related news, i did bother to finally figure out how to embed videos here and i can't stop listening to *and watching* nataly dawn.

     sometimes, "there is only make".

Earth Day

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

Written on the Body

   

One of the many faces of Ivy-crashed out, mouth open.  We're so happy she's sleeping today.  Yesterday was from hell. I don't think she slept twenty minutes in a twelve hour stretch. And believe it or not we are still wrestling with that cockamamie virus that has been plaguing us for three weeks now. So I'm in crazed momma mode-is it colic? Is it reflux? Could it be that her throat hurts like mine does? Maybe it's just her immature digestive system...or what if it's her neck out of alignment from birth????

If I only knew what it was, mommy could fix it all up right. Right? Today we took her out for her first day out of the house. At sixteen days old, we decided it had better be the creamery.  I had coconut sorbet made with coconut milk since I'm kicking dairy to make sure she's not allergic or lactose intolerant. I had an oatmeal cookie to make myself feel better about it.

She rode in the car like a pro and crashed on me in her sleepy wrap sling while we were there, jamming out to Kim Carnes and Betty Davis Eyes and watching the dinner crowd slowly filter in. Miles had cookie dough with chocolate sauce. It was all I could do not to take pictures the entire time.  We were out-as a family of four, in our new life with each other.

Once home, we bathed and crashed ourselves. It had been a very fancy day.

For Love

 

Glass Heart, Diane Marshall.

 

Borrowed from an old Victorian card:

 

In pleasure's dream, or sorrow's hour

In crowded hall, or lonely bower,

The business of my soul shall be

For ever to remember thee.

 

Happy Valentine's Day, Lovers. xo

 

False Alarm

 

My new best friend.

Last night I was in what I thought to be labor from about 2am to 7am.  It was really weird since we're 5 weeks out and my fears surround birthing in the hospital.  Sitting in the bath and resting with my thoughts for a while, I was able to get myself to that magical place of surrender and also decide with Mr. B and the midwife that we would stay in our comfortable home and give birth and proceed from there if necessary.  It allowed me some much-needed mental housekeeping that I couldn't have possibly done without being in the position of thinking "today's the day". 

Birth is, for me, a courageous act- one that cannot be put off until later, until the mental or emotional kinks are worked out, or until the timing is right.  I think this is what I love so much about natural homebirth. It requires the complete surrender to something beyond my control that I have to breathe, move, sing, hum and pray my way through-all done outside the realm of my conscious mind.  I have a friend scheduling her C-section for early March, we are due about a week apart. Oddly enough, though her idea of an ideal birth is pretty much the polar opposite of mine, we share many of the same sentiments.  For her, C-section is her preferred and most satisfying method of birth, but comes with risks and anticipations much like my own, just within a different set of parameters.  I think I've likened the birth of a baby to any creative act here before, giving your baby wings and bringing it forth into the world requires courage and surrender.  And perhaps love of the truth that it will be whatever or whomever it is going to be, and that we do not possess it so much as give it life and treat it as a divine gift.

My clean out yesterday had an, um...cleansing effect and that may have had something to do with her knocking on my chamber door a bit early.  I'm sticking with the same idea today, just have this notion that my body doesn't want a lot of heavy food or processed flours and the like.  Today, I heart split pea and barley soup (on the stove), steel cut oats with coconut oil and raw honey, lemon water, blackstrap molasses for iron (thanks for the reminder, Stevie), raw almonds, aloe vera juice, GoodBelly probiotics and all the green juice I can stand.  Strange timing, but this what my body is telling me to do. 

I feel my baby girl delightfully teasing me...knowing that I want answers, predictability...Aquarian? Pisces?  Silly questions entertain me while I play the waiting game....

Houseguest

Willow, aka, "Tiny Tot, theTiniest of Tots", really isn't tiny at all.  We call her a jack-bull because she kind of looks like a jack russell terrier mixed with a pit bull.  The vet thinks she may be mixed with a Corgie.  People on the street often smile at us when we're out, perhaps because she invites an image of unlikely lovers setting out to create her.

We haven't lived with dogs inside the house since we moved into the new home.  But when I found her licking a deep cut on her leg last week, I took her to get stitched up and then let her in to stay for a few days. She's back in again because she chewed her stitches out.  I gave her a bath so she would smell like a princess and she's been sleeping at the foot of our bed, happily.

Since having a baby, our dogs have taken a bit of a back seat, which we were warned would happen but didn't want to believe at the time.  Our dogs totally prepped us for having Miles. Though some scoff that owning pets is anything like children, I disagree.  We have three, the other two who are beginning to age.  It is sad that our good friends lives are beyond half through. But so sweet that we've already had such a good run.  Willow helped me through a very rough spot a few years ago and now it's our turn to do the nursing.

How are you giving back today?

  

I love the energy of this hug.  Miles woke two Thursdays ago to find that his Great Grammalo (Gramma Lois) had been sleeping in our guest room all night.  "Gramma-Wo happy to see Miles?", was his first question.  He's really into people being happy to see him.  Seems like there is no shortage of them lately! Our precious Grammalo spent a week here and we ate until all of us thought we would burst, and played so hard we missed bedtime by almost two hours every night.  It downpoured rain her final day here at Huntington Botanical Gardens, where a Great Blue Heron fished and flew across the water in the new Chinese Garden.  All of the water and the heron seemed like perfect symbols for an emotional day of parting.  We will miss you, lady.  Please move to Sacramento and be nearer to us! 

Since mother's day, it has been wild around here with visitors and clean up and long to-do lists that seem to be getting longer.  Checking in with myself today as I drove to work, I noticed I was lost in unconscious, tedious thoughts about absolutely nothing that mattered.  I burst through them by asking myself what it is that I hold sacred.  That word, sacred, means everything to me.  It brings me back to the quiet part of myself that seems whole, alive and grateful.    Here is what came to mind:

*Bedtime conversations in the dark with Miles and hearing him say his "night-nights" to everyone he loves

*Friends who are willing to stand in a fire with me

*The last ten minutes of sleep I get before rising to respond to the gong of demand

*The quietest time of night when my boys are sleeping and my thoughts belong to me

*Sitting on scratchy, orange wool blankets inside a sweat lodge

*Figuring out what my dreams mean while I'm having them

*Connecting with humans on the  table each day in a totally present way that is healing and meaningful to them

What do you hold sacred?

Circling

I met with my mountain circle this weekend for our quarterly pilgrimage inward and into nature, and my heart always comes back feeling so full.  I LOVE retreats.  It is the way I  most love to formally recharge.  Each new year I make lists of how I plan to take care of myself better so that I'm a happier mom & partner, better bodyworker, savvier businessperson, fulfilled artist...often the lists include eating more whole foods, planning more creative excursions, taking workshops from people I admire and want to learn from and stretching my comfort zone in all areas of my life.  I find that retreating with women-for a day or for a week at a time-gives me the longest lasting and most inspiring results to step forward into my world with.  A shaman brings medicine to the tribe after journeying into the outer realms of consciousness for information and guidance.  When I come back from time away, I always feel like I've grown in some sacred way.  I always learn something valuable about myself and those I'm circling with.  I've come to rely on this time with other women.  I'm pretty sure my life depends on it.

Eleventh Hour Wishlist

Hark! It's upon us! 

If you are running behind with shopping and are desperate for a few ideas, here are some last moment goodies that may save your Christmas keister:

Wee Babes: Organic *anything* is nice for the weans because their little skins and bodies don't like chemicals.  Nui booties are not cheap, but make a super sweet gift.  If you are the crafting type, felt your own!  My favorite source for wool top (roving) is The Yarn Tree in Brooklyn, because they're so flippin' nice.  Pair I felted for friend's babe:

I would have been all over this bunting, had I known about it when M was born.

Kid Over 2: This cool chalkboard placemat is Made in USA by a company called Chalk A Doodle (I can't say it without crowing).  The eraser is recycled wool and it comes with 4 pieces of dustless chalk.  I love the folks at Pokkadots, too.  Just dang sweet people.  No time to ship?  No money to buy?  Make it yourself by spray painting chalkboard paint onto a lightweight surface such as illustration board or Masonite.  Create the eraser by cutting a 4 x 6 square out of your least favorite wool sweater (or thrift store find) and wash it in a hot water cycle with regular laundry soap.  Instant felted wool eraser.  Reckon you'll have to go buy some chalk. Also, the album What Kind of Cat Are You? will drive the 2-6 set wild.

EnviroMan: Just Soap is a company anyone can love.  The creator designed a bike contraption to pedal and mix his large batches of soap.  Brilliant! Human powered!  More efficient than Santa and no pesky reindeer to clean up after.  The coyotes love Lemongrass Ginger for a scent that suits girlies, as well as boys.  We are intrigued by the shampoo bars and plan to try them next-I can't think of a better idea than eliminating all of the plastic bottles that shampoo and conditioner come in.  This water bottle solves all of the plastic, aluminum (evil SIGG), nalgene issues of our day.  With one for him and one for you, you can get on with things more fun than searching for the perfect bloody water bottle!

Host/Hostess/Special Lady Friend: These candles from Something Wicked are wickedly guiltless, especially if you live on the West Coast and don't have far to ship (think cruel fuel).  We've been burning "Hannah" (Fig Apricot) all week and the scent is intoxicating without being headachey.  They are thoughtfully poured into reuseable + recyclable glass, made of soy (no black paraffin lungs) with hemp wicks, toxin-free, and are packaged in deliciously recycled paper boxes (sturdy enough to have a second life as a cute and yummy-smelling storage box).  Lovely Jill Roy, creator, beloved Angeleno, and handpourer scores points for fighting global warming and gets one tiny spanking for using a teensy amount of synthetic fragrance to achieve the fruity part of the sniffins.  If she can live with herself, I can, too.

eGifts: Elf Yourself is the funniest thing I've ever seen.  When I received this gift from my girl, Julie, I almost peed.  Spread holiday joy and crack up your friends.  They'll forget that you didn't send them a fruitcake.

And,

If You Still Have to Buy for Me: Wink...

Wednesday Post Script: To SIGG or not to SIGG

I've been receiving some feedback about the water bottle issue and the comments of this post reveal some concerns and thoughts from a few well-doers.  Here is my final prattle on the matter which I tried to post as a comment but Typepad doesn't love me tonite:

I have been reading all night about bottles, bottles and more bottles.  What I'm hearing is SIGG asked Environmental Working Group and Organic Consumers Association earlier this year to remove the SIGG water bottle from their warning lists.  Both have done so, but it seems to me that they still have questions but aren't quite saying why yet.  SIGG has said (I'm paraphrasing, of course) their bottles do NOT leach at all, ever, the harmful hormone disruptor known as BPA *bisphenol A* from the linings of the bottles. 

SIGG will not release the content or manufacturing process details about their "micro epoxy" linings (born of petrochemicals, as all plastics are) because they want to maintain their "competitive edge".  EWG tested SIGGs for 3 days the tests showed no signs of BPA, but I hear that community making talk of the bottles wearing down and "leaching over time" and consumers not being able to see if there is internal damage to the lining when cleaning, which would definitely indicate leaching of the plastic lining components, not to mention the aluminum. 

A lot of effort goes into producing SIGG, in inks, printing & manufacturing the fancy decorative exteriors that have such great marketing appeal, mining of aluminum, etc.  I also hear consumers saying that the exteriors chip and dent when you drop the bottles, so what happens to the interior when that occurs? 

In favor of stainless steel, though the mining process is also intensive, is that it is the most recyclable material in the world- in fact over 80% of cars in the US are recycled, meaning my very own SS bottle could be the '74 Nova my parents drove when I was a kid!  I like SIGG's general ideas for fair trade and all of that alleged goodliness (w!), I wish they made a plain SS version with no fancy-energy-sucking frills.  I can paint my own dang bottle!

But seriously, my vote still goes for food-grade stainless steel (watch out for cheapies, they are out there!).  And I'm a product, design and packaging whore, so you can imagine how difficult it is for me to be so puritanical on such a matter.  EWG said it best when they said, "SIGG is an aluminum-bottle manufacturer with excellent publicity."

You can't recycle SIGG because of all that is in/on it vs. the plain Klean Kanteen (available everywhere, such as Amazon, GreenFeet.com).  My bone of contention is that SIGG is mfd in Switzerland (smaller eco footprint, yet still far to ship) and the damned KK is mfd in China-if you know me, you know I've begun to boycott China when possible.  If you use the tap to fill your bottles, you must always remember to clean them thoroughly-another problem I have with SIGG is you can't risk getting them too hot inside ....eeeeegad....(I run the hottest tap water my faucet will produce to sterilize my bottle and I can put it in the d/w, too)

I have to add that I think the best best best thing ever is to just drink from a glass or ceramic mug.  Easy to do at home and just take your water container out with you, reducing your *risk of the unknown*!  Enough fearmongering already...time to get back into the holiday spirit of pretending mass consumption is a healthy obsession. :)

(Whoops! Sorry for the weird link to funky eyelash girl! My Gina G is a potter, not a Get Up and Dance diva!-link fixed)

http://www.enviroblog.org/2007/05/ask-ewg-i-am-looking-for-a-saf.htm
http://greenerpenny.blogspot.com/2007/08/bye-bye-bpa.html
http://www.ewg.org/node/21491

We Gather

Just a little conversation can begin a revolution.  Speaking from inside of ourselves or out loud with someone we know, we all have the seed lying in the center of our beings for love, transformation and growth.  When birthed into words, that which moves us from our centers can manifest into movement.

I love to gather.  I especially love to gather to honor women, and I leapt at the opportunity to assemble a small group of moms to initiate a dear friend into the mothership circle.  What began as a subtle, spoken yearning by Keri to be surrounded by "mama energy" before the birth of her son culminated in an amazing, whirlwind weekend of food, fall color, mommies and babes in Woodstock, NY.

I'm beginning to be at a loss for words, so visit Wendy who found a beautiful song that I think describes what happens when we gather perfectly.

What stands out for me most of all, is the mighty courage it takes for women to fly and drive great distances to support another woman in her rites of passage, and how this is a lost practice in our culture that is making a comeback.  It might be easy for someone to shy away from other women or artists for fear of being judged or thinking that they may not have much to bring or offer others.  Nevertheless, women are sitting on floors and couches, on the earth and on the chairs of their ancestors with each other, sharing stories, fears, and finding their voices.

We must all keep having the conversations, sending out the smoke signals for support when we need it, asking for what we want, listening for the drumbeat, and answering the call to quest.

Here's to four amazing mothers, two curious boys, one brilliantly growing seed, and two that are being dreamed of today.  You are all brave and shining. 

   

"If the world is to be healed through human efforts, I am convinced that it will be by ordinary people, people whose love for this life is even greater than their fear.  People who can open to the web of life that called us into being, and who can rest in the vitality of that larger body." --Joanna Macy

My Boy Wonder

Parenting is not exactly getting easier as it goes on.  There are tantrumy thingies, sleepless nights, coughs I don't know how to get rid of, an echo of "Out, out out" following me everywhere I go, having to hear the same song or video "Aho, aho" (which means "again, again") ninety six times in a day, grouchy car rides, and now-drumroll.....potty training.  We had two turds on the floor just Sunday.

And then moments like this:

of rogue plague rats on a pirate ship

of pennies in a favorite fountain

and of caped crusading away from me

and all of the challenging things fade away.  They won't ever matter a bit.

Smart

This picture is for W who thinks no one besides her family has Smart Hair.  Well we are smart, too, Wendy!  I score 1400 on the Hair SATs, sister, with a guinness number of cowlicks on just this one head of mine.  I'm betting there are more of you out there than are admitting, so fess up and fly your morning hairdos on your blogs.

A good friend of mine who has not had an easy time of staying pregnant is sailing with flying colors through her 10th week with great measurements and strong heartbeats.  I have to shout my joy out about how thrilled I am for she and her superhubs.  Stars are finally aligning for two more people who really deserve to be parents.  To any of you struggling right now, I say, hang in there dears.  Hope springs.

She recently gave me some bath bombs from Lush and this one is my all time favorite-yummy!!  I'm burning through them like Santa Barbara wildfire.

I've been working on reidentifying with what I do for a living because I think I get lost in all of the things I do for fun and forget about building my business.  I know only a little about marketing but am having fun creating little goodie bags for my clients and educating them about self-care.  I started a new little blog for locals and those who already see me at the spa.  I do declare I'm having a dandy time. 

Ecoliteracy and Visionarianism for the Holidays

I have to share this site with you because I love it so much.  Even before I had my own child, I have been fascinated with what growing food can do for children and adults.  How it has the power to revolutionize our schools and schoolchildren EXCITES me! 

I've always loved Alice Waters' story, each time I've caught a little promo in a magazine or a book over the years, I relish her vision and the results of her tenacious journey into this territory.

As my baby gets older and I move out of the mama cave and into the world with him, I find that I'm thinking more and more about health and of our impact on his world. 

This year, we have declared and committed ourselves, through the inspiration of friends and our own hearts yearnings, to a "No Made in China and No Plastic" holiday celebration.  It is another step on the path of awareness of our consumption and responsibility for what turns up in landfills.  I will very soon have some lovely alternatives here to share with you.

I do realize that I have effectively not tied the ideas in this post together but am going to just leave it alone this time.

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.