Pink Coyote

Spring Equinox + BOGO Print Sale + Last Week to Register for SouLodge

The Spring Equinox is this week on March 19th at 10:14 p.m. here on the west coast. We'll be celebrating Ivy Tallulah's third birthday. Our little vernal queen has chosen to go to Disneyland, which is not exactly my idea of heralding Spring in a ritual way, but this is what we're doing. The year she turned one was my favorite, as celebrations go.

Needless to say, I am putting invisibility spells on all of the princess gift shops as a pre-emptive tactic to spare my daughter the models of flimsy feminine archetypes. I haven't got much time before it finds her somehow! A mama can try.

I'll be creating some ceremony the following weekend, and likely all the way through the Beltane, the fiery time of mid-Spring when the earth is wild and fully alive. For ideas about celebrating Spring Equinox, slip over here and have a listen to some pre-Lodge audio. This season is packed more than any other with animal teachers, meaningful handcrafts, and spirited creative guidance to keep you inspired all season. Registration closes this Friday, so if you're feeling the call, sister, get on over.

In other news, there is a BOGO sale going on in my shop all week on fine art prints. When you purchase a print, tell me in the notes to seller which additional print you would like me to send you.

Yay! Spring! I'm going outside to play with my family now. Look what they've discovered while I was creating this post!

Stretching Out: Summer Sun

Every day here is like being on vacation. Wake up. Go back to sleep. Wake up again. Have leisurely breakfast...two or three times. Look around for bird feathers outside the casita. Laugh at frisky squirrels jumping from tree to tree. Pack lunch. Go to violin lesson where teacher adores him and allows Ivy and I play on her kids' swingset. Make tracks to the beach or other soothing body of water (of which there are many). Pick sand out of crevasses. Eat a sandy sandwich. Notice that everyone in the water is wearing a wetsuit but us. Drive home, hose off, and lounge around some more.

Midweek has become my weekend since Operation Ojai has been in effect. It feels indulgent to be at the beach on a Thursday, which I thought was Wednesday for most of the day. These slow days have become epic for my children and I, as we near the first homeschool meet up and also look for homes in the area that we can grow into, and strong in.

My baby in a ponytail makes her seem like so much more a girl. It won't be long before she'll be taking music lessons, surfing the waves, and much more interested in shopping for Fall clothes than her brother. This is a blessed life. One in which we can play hard in the saltwater, eat healthy food, laugh, and enjoy life.Together.

I've been gathering plants to make medicine with in this gorgeous climate, which has, you know, all the really awesome plants. White sage, growing right on the path to the swimming hole, wild fennel, yarrow, sweet peas, toyon, manzanita. Just to savor the essence of summer a little longer. Hawk, Rabbit, Coyote, Bat, Possum, Blue Jay, and the subtle sense of that solar queen, Mountain Lion, are all around. So much symbolism to carry around in my knapsack.

Wishing you a blissful dog-days weekend, Full Mama Moon, and all the ponytails and laughter your heart can bear.

grateful list

yes, i am stiiiiiiill integrating. one reason being is that a handful of big things are brewing for my family as well as for me and it feels a bit like big shift overload. in the best way, but you know how it is when a lot blossoms at once? all i can do is sit in the gratitude of it, in the right side of my brain and not force the analytics. a day at the beach and the spectacular little village of ojai with brandon and the kids is helping me to stay in that space.

gRateFuLL

for balance of masculine and feminine forces

for surrender and the flow of goodness that always follows

for help

for new friends and their divine guidance

for happy pants and my fairy's first toenail painting

for plants that ground and mama birds that remind me how to feed my chicks

for blessed one-on-one contact

for non-superficiality

for naps and lucid dreaming

for reassurance that the circle is a spiral and each time i re-visit a place, it's with new wisdom

for hollowed out trees and elvish boys who fearlessly climb into them

for cooler temperatures and consignment store sweaters that save the day

for peacock colored linen pants for $6

for summer plans with my favorite women

for cottonwood bud salve from herbmama that smells good enough to eat

for the kind of connections that only smiling fate brings

for mango sausage and perfect over-medium eggs

for exciting new paths with places to plant and grow

for twists of kismet and perfect crossings

for patient customers and abundance

for knowing what we need, and asking for what we want

for transformation that begins when we say, "YES"

for surprises in the mail that topple obstacles

for transparency and non-judgement

for ego-strength and willingness to learn beyond the current scope

for berry picking in the warm sun and big-wheeled wagons to tote them in

for my mom's flexibility

for my dad's quiet support

for those who have passed and meet us in council on the Otherside

for taking the time to process

for sleeping on it

for allowing life to lead

for warm honeyed vocals and unexpected island ukeleles

for young, wise ones who *see*

for the stories that keep us alive

for bold.wild.trust. and the people who inspire it in me

 

 

 

 

 

Making Magic

There are so many ways to do it. For Ivy, it's Clover Stirfry.

 

For me, it's embracing healing, changing energy.

 

For Miles, it's creating beauty.

 

How do you make magic?

She Hangs Brightly

It's been quite a weekend with this amazing moon, Ivy's second birthday and the Equinox all falling together beautifully. Here's a little photo journal of our adventures together.

First to UCLA to catch Dan Zanes, the kids favorite band ever.

Wearing her Bellawish birthday necklace that reads, "angelfish".

Miles and his favorite drummer, Colin.

I thought I had a cake mix at home, but I bought two boxes of frosting mix instead, so cake from scratch it was. I modified the apple cake from the Cast Iron Skillet Cookbook, added strawberries, used oat flour instead of all-purpose, cut the grated apples by two thirds, left out the nutmeg, added extra cinnamon...

...voila! Strawberry cake with pink glaze and berries, just as the wee goddess requested. It was super moist, so much better than I expected it to be. I never use regular cake pans any more. Cast iron is where it's at.

Out to sit by the campfire and throw herbs on it. Myrrh (for the rebirth of Spring) and lavender (for a calm transition back into the active season) made my dreads smell so yummy. Can you see death taking wing in there and getting ready to be born again?

And there she rose. Peeking up over one of the clouds that would not thwart her appearance.

And seconds of singing and cake the next day, of course.

Have a wonderful Monday, and a beautiful first day of Spring!

To There and Back Again

The road through the Eastern Sierras to Mammoth Mountain

the fresh air, cold water and hot sun of my home state

leaves me breathless.

Real Flowers

My mail is full of cries of hunger and they are really cries of hunger for experience in the deep and fulfilling sense of the word. If a woman has artificial flowers in her house, flowers that need dusting twice a year but never die, she is closing herself off from any understanding of death. And if a woman has to remain thirty-nine, she is arresting her own growth as surely as if she were a Chinese lady a hundred years ago and had bound her feet.  --May Sarton, Journal of a Solitude

In some ways, I feel as if I could have written this passage myself. There is such a hunger for growth all around me, and I command it for myself, so I suppose it isn't to be a surprise. My fortieth year completes in the Fall and I find my thoughts occasionally drifting to what midlife will bring with it. I've stuffed this year full of things to keep me happily busy, and I wonder sometimes if I did it to make this year really...meaningful.

I, like May, have my father's work ethic that leaves me feeling a tad disappointed, though thankfully, not ashamed, if a day goes by in which I don't make something, do something wonderful, make a quality of it, seize it and call it mine. He still carries these expectations, for himself and everyone else, and it's a heavy burden to bear when life begins to slide down the other side of the peak. Those of us who are extremely driven may have trouble honoring quieter days when the time comes to do such a thing.

I see many lists when I'm crawling the webs late at night, of things to do before one has a birthday. A complex array of tasks and feats, which I delight to see crossed off. When I began having children, I decided that making no plans would be the best tact for me. This is the first year, even though it's my third in business as an artist, that I have made a sack full of plans, and big ones.

Last night as I was bundling away, Ivy cried out from her room. I wanted to see if she'd soothe herself back to sleep, but there was a desperate tone, so I went in and found the poor dear dangling from the end of her bed, feet near to the floor and little arms struggling to keep herself up. She was filled with anger, it seemed, from having to hang there for the thirty seconds while I made my decision to rush in. She raged and raged once I rescued her. I can sense such a strength and determination to take care of herself. But I sense, once she's given me all of her big feelings- shouted and growled, squeezed my arms hard and yelled into my face- when she goes soft and snuggles up into my cheek and shoulder, that what she wants most is care. Her personality is one who says no to help most often. But I was reminded again tonight that she, too, just wants a safe place to rest and put her feelings when the day is done. 

During the day when she determines to climb on every high surface, do everything her brother's doing, lick the bowl from the top step of the stool, brush her own teeth and rinse them, too...all of it, I see so much of my own sweat in her. She fights, this one. Her independence causes me to do other things besides hover around and adore her all day long, and yet, I got the feeling tonight that she was reminding me that she needs me so much, much more than I think she does. She needs me not to pause when she cries out, but to trust that because of who she is- when she calls for it, she really needs aid.

Her hunger for growth, to do it all seems like the same theory that I operate on when I create my life, my work. I want to do it all, my way, all of the things that matter and allow me to feel like I'm really doing something. I squeeze every drop of meaning and symbolism out of my experiences....and why? Unashamedly, I say that I do this because I want my life to matter. I want to take responsibility for it's quality. As Joseph Campbell said several posts back, I seek the experience of being ALIVE.

It goes without saying that whether we cross those things off of our long lists or whether we sit in lotus for the next forty years, it all matters. Without planning it, naming it, thinking it, designing it, coloring it, teaching it, it all matters without anyone ever even knowing about it. I am learning again the lesson of balancing my inner scales, teetering on the midpoint of my life, while choosing real flowers and shoes I can wiggle my toes in.

A Good Day for Cake

Alive

People say that what we are all seeking is the meaning of life. I don't think that's what we're really seeking. I think what we're seeking is an experience of being alive.

-Joseph Campbell, in an interview with Bill Moyers

A Week of Holidays

Winner Winner Foxy Dinner

Cat of Our Perspective won the postcard and greeting card giveaway! So fun. Yay, Cat! Your stories about the worst gifts ever kept me in laughing tears all weekend. Seriously, people!

As I try to persuade Miles to agree that Santa and Christmas are all about the giving, my words fall on deaf ears. And I'm determined not to bust his balls about it. Did I just say "bust his balls" about my five year old? Oh well.

While Miles and were last "discussing" the reason for the season, my other elf was being mounted by her friend, Gavin. She let us know she could handle herself just fine and was not in need of rescue.

Must be her foxy new bob, because he's never been this forward before.

 

 

 

 

Bless

County Fair

On a horse called Blue

In her big brother's shoes

It was a lovely time with you.

Surrender

I get asked a lot about what this tattoo is a symbol of. Love? Harmony? Trust?

It's sort of all of those things, but I never find it simple to explain.

In 1998 I walked into the local Vermont Ave. tattoo joint with a copy of the Tao Te Ching in my hand and pointed to the symbol. I sat for about forty-five minutes while the artist inked and scratched the moving shapes into my left deltoid. This was a bold move for me, a tattoo on my arm; I'd hid the others below the waistline: the wolf's paw print in 1990 and the Warrior's spear in 1994. Earlier messages to my then self from my further-along self that I am still learning about. Funny how we reach back and teach ourselves from the future, isn't it?

The direct translation of Tao means, literally, the way.

Like so many things I've done, I have no real clue why I'm doing them until it manifests years later. I only know in the moment that it will be significant, though I can't say precisely why or how. Releasing and surrender have been big for me for a very long time, but I'd say that this year has been the token year of letting go. Letting it all go...

This piece, from the essay Surrender Into Mothering, by Chris Pritchard, says much of it for me:

What I know now about parenting is to "surrender." I've learned how childbirth brings with it self-discovery, self-healing, and adaptation to the new selves we become every single day of our lives. No one ever told me that, as an adult, I would keep on changing. I would have to move and flow with changes in myself, as well as all around me, for the rest of my life. No one ever explained that this process never ends, that it is infinite. Learning to surrender means learning to go with change. And change requires surrender.

From the first days of pregnancy, when the beautiful creature inside your body begins to puff out your belly and your breasts, makes you nauseated and tired, makes you have emotional depths and heights, radically affects your relationship with everyone around you, you are asked by this tiny new life to adapt to all these changes, If you resist you will suffer. You must give in. You do let go. You shed your old self. Perhaps pregnancy, more than any other period in a woman's life, enables her to understand the complexity of this requirement in life--to change and to adapt.

Pregnancy enables us to open a multitude of doorways--into ourselves, into our ancestral past, and into our future. Sometimes walking through these doorways can give us insights that can shift old patterns on this planet. The gift of childbirth challenges us to take nothing for granted, and to flow and to move like a great ocean, around any rocky obstacle.

 

I begin my fortieth year wiring in Coyote's way- to enjoy having without possessing, to revel in loving without boundaries, to delight in surrendering my defenses, to laugh when I might reflexively admonish myself, to freely release all that I create, to dance around the fire which burns up the old, to drink in breath without fear, to trust it all and take nothing for granted. To do less, to want less, to need less. To practice it over and over again.

To yield.

Whatever is soft and yielding

is a disciple of life.

The hard and stiff will be broken.

The soft and supple will prevail.

-Tao Te Ching

Fearlessness: All Shapes and Sizes

Sometimes being fearless, for me, means letting go of all of my rules and restrictions.

It means embracing the inconvenient, the messy, the time-consuming.

Fearless parenting can sometimes sound like...silence. Where I would otherwise correct, steer or guide.

Sometimes it looks like me standing nearby, laughing and encouraging-like, while she paints both of her hands. And watching without reaching in while she plops her thumb squarely into her sweet little cherub's mouth.

In Honor Of

Births

We will never remember dying.

We were so patient

about being,

noting down

the numbers, the days,

the years and the months,

the hair, the mouths we kissed,

but that moment of dying:

we surrender it without a note,

we give it to others as remembrance

or we give it simply to water,

to water, to air, to time.

Nor do we keep

the memory of our birth,

though being born was important and fresh:

and now you don't even remember one detail,

you haven't kept even a branch

of the first light.

It's well known that we are born.

It's well known that in the room

or in the woods

or in the hut in the fisherman's district

or in the crackling canefields

there is a very unusual silence,

a moment solemn as wood,

and a woman gets ready to give birth.

It's well known that we were born.

But of the profound jolt

from not being to existing, to having hands,

to seeing, to having eyes,

to eating and crying and overflowing

and loving and loving and suffering and suffering,

of that transition or shudder

of the electric essence that takes on

one more body like a living cup,

and of that disinhabited woman,

the mother who is left there with her blood

and her torn fullness

and her end and beginning, and the disorder

that troubles the pulse, the floor, the blankets,

until everything gathers and adds

one more knot to the thread of life:

nothing, there is nothing left in your memory

of the fierce sea that lifted like a wave

and knocked down a dark apple from the tree.

The only thing you remember is your life.

--Pablo Neruda

As my baby's final weaning days weave in and out in slow motion, nearing the crossing over point, I find myself thinking about my childrens' births. So very many new babies have come in this year, into the glorious tribe. And so many elders have passed along their memories and ways to us to hand down, across and down further still. I feel ceremonious and close to the bone about...everything.

As friends plan new babies for next year and adopted babes dash into the lives of others, I am reminded of how sacred the mere act is. Dear Pablo is so right. We don't remember a lick of it. The rush of it. The story of the day.The brightness of the room, or the slick darkness of it. The peace or the chaos. I want to believe that our bodies remember even when our minds fail to. That we carry the minute and the moment with us, as our badge of honor to exist fruitfully and completely.

Bow To The King

The Sun King, that is. We're setting out to make sunny side up eggs on corn tortillas, gather yarrow and lavender to make hair circlets, pick plums and make tarts, and salute the sun today...ending in a big fire in the backyard pit tonight.

Happy Solstice to you!

shadowmama

working with my own shadow has been something i've been doing since i attended a retreat about seven years ago and became really familiar with what a shadow was. for me, being in a shadow meant that i was believing something about myself or my life that was essentially a lie, based on repressed bits from childhood, or fear of repeating mistakes i'd made in adulthood. if there is a part of me that i just really don't like, then it would likely show up, leaking-out-like in a shadow behavior or state. this is totally my rendition of what being in a shadow means to me, and of course master jung can fill you in properly textbook if you care to read any of his brilliance. (man and his symbols is still my fave).

my recent funkification has brought up a lot of things to look over. i'm weaning ivy, and that means that (any chance of  oopsy not being considered here) when she comes off the boob for good, it will be my final goodbye to that particular stage of life where i am nurturing anyone with my body's precious natural resources. i fear feeling cut off from the archetype of the milky mother i have so come to identify with. for a cumulative time of nearly three years over the course of four and a half years, i have been nourishing and comforting a babe this way. and this is hard for me to let go of.

i find myself drawing inward to search out what is next for me beyond this stage. it's a little death, which i seem to experience so often. i'm at peace with the frequent turning over of cells here, but it wears me out, this path. though i have not been experiencing much typical shadow talk (from the "gremlins" so often referred to in bloggieville), i have been feeling very alone at the end of each day. not LONELY in the sense that i believe someone can fill this place, but on a solitary mission which can only be designed with my soul in mind, and surrendered to by me.

there is so much that's changing, as if with ivy's wean and summer solstice, the sky is opening up with possibility and transformation.

the photo makes me think of clint eastwood in the "man with no name" trilogy, and sort of captures what this past week has been like. the good, the bad and the ugly! well, just a little bit of ugly, retrieving messages from the oozing swamp hag :)

thank you all so very much for your love and comments as i fell down the hole again. though not frightening or dark feeling, it did cause me to leave my ordinary writings in the dust in favor of private time in my journal. it's been good to take in the air and re-ground. i think i'm ready to come back to the land of the living...

bless and so much gratitude...

She's a Biped!

 

After six weeks of hard work, it's official.

And now, a goddess must rest...

Equinox Birthday Celebration

Ivy turned one on Saturday and I don't quite know how it can be true. I spent the night reliving all of the details and feelings surrounding her birth, recalling who-arrived-when in the dark hours of past-midnight to whisper excitedly and giggle over sandwiches in the kitchen as my labor progressed. It was a magical night that all culminated in this little babe being born in our bathtub at 9:45 in the morning.

Friday night was spent stringing a special necklace of coral and seashell beads for her, ironing her little Springtime frock, and packing for our journey to the mountains. I also made a string of tobacco prayer ties, for each member of our family, along with a turkey vulture feather, to hang in the circle of sacred trees, which has become like an altar to we who visit it.

My beloved friend Sarah Jane hosts a Spring Equinox circle each year, so naturally, this is where we headed on sweetpea's birthday.

We arrived at the meadow, a favorite spot of ours when we lived in this wonderful community, to a drumming heartbeat that felt so perfectly fitting.

Untangling prayer ties while M prepares to rattle his seashells. I feel so close to the sea now that I have a Pisces baby. She has brought me so much closer to water, which I need, (there is not a single droplet of water in my chart) and have grown to appreciate so much. So all of the little shells and sea bits that made appearances felt even more symbolic on this day.

 

My children will always be sacred beings to me. I am forever committed to practicing a lifetime of honoring them, hearing their truths, offering them empathy and understanding above all, and showing them how to fully express themselves. I do not fear anything that they may show me, and I expect them never to silence themselves or adjust to please me, but to grow in the direction their own hearts command. Where I am weak, I intend to grow stronger, because they deserve a strong mama, and I know I am capable. This is my promise to them.

Miles gathers rocks as we all take a break for berries, just before we began to place our offerings and bundles on the altar and hang the prayer ties.

 

Eight years ago I lost a very special pregnancy and it was in this circle of trees that Sarah Jane brought Brandon and I for the first time to hang a white feather in honor of that precious being. I returned with Turkey Vulture today because it was she who flew over my head in numbers in Big Sur when I retreated for healing, and to face stuck fears, abandonments and rage from my own childhood, that were triggered by the loss. I learned then that she is a symbol of Motherhood and of the cycle of life. She taught me that no experience we ever have is wasted. She teaches me to value keeping my communication clean; I honored her here in the circle for seeing me through dark times and for the circle that has become complete with the births of my two beaming children.

 

The altar is a giant peace heart with many heart rocks, rocks representing the four directions and elements, with symbols of life and hope gathered around it. It brings me so much comfort and hope for a world in which children will be protected, treated with respect, and held sacred.

My heart soared as songs were chanted, pow wow drums beat, seeds planted in egg cartons, and new life welcomed back to this side of the planet. It was a beautiful warm day and the perfect ceremony to honor the plants, the earth, the season, and my little spring flower. I am so lucky to be surrounded by sisters who honor my children in a sacred way, and equally blessed to feel cherished by them simultaneously for bringing them into our world. 

It was an extraordinary day.

 

Still A Bit Quiet Over Here

Outside of the drudgery gleeful task of gathering the tax information every night this week, Miles and I have been creating little treasures and making things for Ivy's special day on Saturday. Creativity has a softness to it these few days, of trance-like knot-tying and Astrud Gilberto on the hi-fi.

 

Brandon made some hallelujah-good salmon and pineapple fried rice for dinner tonite, which I shall not soon forget. Everyone devoured it, even Ivy! I'm feeling veeery Springish (said with elfish delight) since the time changed. We went outdoors after the holy meal and drummed the big, orange sun down-a Campbell tradition begun with friends back in the mountain days. 

 

Soft, slow, easy. The days breeze through, painted like an orchid...and I'm rendered {almost} speechless with contentedness.

New Moon Intentions

Tubular surfer in Arroyo Burro, Santa Barbara.

Tonight there's a new moon and seeing that I have lots of new changes to implement, it seems fitting to gather them up on this evening and put them on the wind as intentions. The new moon is dark and (my favorite word) FERTILE (yes, I'm ovulating.) and I invite you to ride into the tube with me and celebrate this time of being little seeds in the warm earth.

I keep prattling on about a whole new way of doing things. What does that really mean? And look like?

What it means to me today is that I have mounting creative energy and ideas, so next week is my week to come in here with my painting frock on and start getting some of them down in color. I'm doing a little bit of sketching and playing with color palettes and having fun before I come to play.

And I'm going to call it play instead of work. Because playing feeds me and working depletes me. And I happen to enjoy my pieces more when I create them from a playful place.

And I'm not going to get carried away with sentiments of promotion and marketing and who-gives-a-damn. It's when I seduce myself with fanciful ideas of bigness and spreading my lovin' all around town that leads me into overworking myself, taking on too much, dishonoring my commitment to make creating art joyful and replenishing, and becoming sick, grumpy mom whom no one likes to be around. I am already booked up for the year with sweet group shows-not too many-just enough, and there is no need for me to seek over the hedgerow for more than I can handle.

This week I am finishing up tax prep and organizing recipes, of all things! I have a snazzy new binder that I can't wait to show you! And of course, sharing more from the Toolkit.

And....gearing up for Baby Girl's FIRST birthday! Yippeeee! This year with her has been a one of growth for all of us and she has brought with her such strong magic, which we are very blessed to witness. I'm so proud of this little stinker. She has no idea what a bright light she is.

Where the Tools Are

It's so good to be home again, where all of my things are just where I'd left them.

The past week has been full of unexpected twists and another nice dose of exhaustion. It was also sweetened with familiar faces, landscapes, and funny memories of my Grandfather. Even when a soul is old and weary, it is difficult to see them go. I've been imagining him doing all of the things he hasn't been able to do in years: going fishing, chopping firewood and dancing a jig.

I'm manifesting peaceful, intuitive motion this week. In the spirit of the Chariot, I have somewhere to go and a strong drive to get there. This is where I seek to integrate my energy with consciousness, as I grow my faith that things will take their own shape without me charging over the top of them. I intend to become a bit more sturdy, as well.

"We do not just go on to go on.

Endurance means we are making something substantial."-p. 419.

The new moon on Saturday was an opportunity for me to plant a new way of navigating through my world. So far, I'm only idealizing how I'd like to move a bit more gracefully, as I've stumbled over some rocks already! I'm trying not to get my wheels in a rut just a few days in...

I'm calling on the tools I love best to help out with that. I'll share a little bit from my altar and toolbox this week and let you have a peek into the medicine bag. Part of my ungroundedness (nope, not a word) has to do with this goddamned relentless virus being passed. I would really love to see the web of germ passage on paper for this one. The other part is that my usual monthly circle hasn't been able to meet since December. If the creeks don't rise, we'll sit on Saturday. I know full well how much I benefit from sitting in a circle of women and doing our work, but three moons has put me completely out of orbit!!

For me, this first half of the month is about thoughtful, peaceful, direction. How about you? Do you flow with the moon and make hay while she's waxing? Rest while she's waning? What are your cycles like?

Pink

We're beginning to pink up a bit over here. This weekend has been quiet and healing, just what was needed. So much so, that right in this moment, I have to make a grateful list.

*For dead sea salt. In our baths, up my nose, in the misty Vick's Inhalation Steamer that specifies not to add anything to it.

*For daikon radish, carrots, celery, broth, roasted chicken in cast iron and B's magical spices that made it the rockingest soup ever.

*For lavender, lemon, eucalyptus, sweet orange and tea tree oils. You guys are so wonderful together in a bit pan of water on the stove. Thank you for your sweet, antiseptic aroma.

*For bath forts and beautiful fabric tacked into the ceiling and the husband that lights fig and current candles and sends me in to sink in with headphones for as long as I wish.

*For friends I'd hack my arm off to be neighbors with, and those I cry for when I find out our gathering is cancelled...again.

*For almond cardamom honeyed caramels and the goddess who keeps them on my desk.

*For wee little spring goddesses who are about to turn one and believe, with full conviction, that the world is her oyster.

*For a young violinist who, despite his intense lack of energy, found many ways to make his sister laugh from his permanent position on the couch.

*For meditations on aforementioned headphones and visions of full, playful, soul expression dancing in my fuzzy head. 

*For lucid dreams that do my healing work for me since I don't feel up to working on it during my waking hours.

*For spirit guides and animals who show up again and again, to bring messages I can really use.

*For false Spring and rain, for perfect Bachian windchimes, and warm dogs like heating pads under the covers, for loves coming to this coast for a season, and for inspiration everywhere...

From the Attic

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.

******From the archives, exactly one year ago...*******

Ivy Tallulah, 11 months old.

How the time do fly.

 

Table Scenes

From our weekend of love...

Lunch in the Tiki Trailer out in the driveway (Miles's idea)

 

Breakfast on sweetheart's day of chocolate chip pancakes made by Dad and devoured by all

Sweetheart luncheon outdoors at the local moo

 

Now that I'm feeling much snappier, Ivy is really sick with whatever hellsome virus I had. To quote my dear BP, I will be engaging in precious nada all week long while I nurse the wean back to health.

I will still make time for blogging, however.

Happy day, lovers....

Remedy + Winners

*WINNERS!*

#12 & #20: Two LOVELIES! Rachel of 6512 and Growing and Christine C. of Lavender and Limes-please send me a message with your snail mail addresses and watch your magic curbside canister for card sets :)

******************************************************************

Still battling seasonal yukkies this week, I've been a bit of a kitchen witch when I've had the energy, when I really just want to remove my head for a while. From apple cider vinegar in warm water, to flushing with the Neti pot, swilling Botanic No. 3 by Synergy, and taking as many dead sea salt water baths as I can stand, I'm determined to steer clear of germy doctor's offices and chemical remedies. I'll stick to fermented healers and trust that eventually, my body will come back into balance.

I've also been juicing: 80% celery, 15% cucumber and 5% parsley is a great green mix any day, but parsley is contraindicated for breastfeeding because it's a diuretic. I substitute cilantro, if I have it, and also throw in a big nub of raw ginger. I'm sure it was the ginger that reduced my flu-like body aches on Monday night.

Sleep is still the main issue and Ivy fusses a bit at her magical hours, which cuts into my healing rest. I struggle with this because I'm still pulling her into bed with me sometime between midnight and 3 a.m. When she was sick a month ago, nursing her while lying down was the only way to clear her breathing up. This threw a wrench into what was shaping up to be a milk-free night routine.

Now that my sweet little Persephone is ten months old, I'm feeling the tug of a transition, and wanting to sleep some more. The expectations alone are a set up to cause me frustration on nights when she doesn't go along with the plan. For me, and this family, this usually signals a time to let go of expectations and surrender to the undertow of motherhood. An endeavor that already leaves me feeling raw and facing all of my own personality challenges at once, being a surrendered mommy feels better than being one strapped with frustration and expectations.

I've prepared myself to be even more selective about how I'm spending my time, not feeling like I can really pare back any more-but knowing that I can, I just don't want to. I have no idea what it might look like in the coming months or for the rest of the year, but I'm open. I'm wide open to the unknown unfolding in it's own time; surfing a bit instead of trying to shape the ocean into the form I think it should take.

Green

It seems like Spring is already here, as it often drops in unexpectedly after Christmas in California, like a friendly face. Native here, I absolutely take this for granted. While a good part of the country is still freezing your bums off in subzeroes, we're already flipflopping and shortsleeving some days. Here's a little green I've been wanting to share to ward off the icicles.

Busy Little Mee

Bee on a loquat tree.

Ahhh, Christmas. I love you and your sounds, your flavors, your sentiments. But I must also confess how relieved I am to clear your symbols from my home as soon as humanly possible when you have seen your happy day come and go.

There have been moments this weekend that have felt downright Springish! It isn't helping me keep my promise to myself to lie a bit low and take a rest. I have taken two baths and read 40 pages of a book, however. That's resting, right?

I'm giddy about the new year. Giddy! I'm like, bursting at the seams, there are so many fun things happening. The January, as I've come to call it, is so full of surprises I can hardly wait to share them. I've been sworn to keeping my lip buttoned by a very serious woman on one count and I dare not breathe a letter of it here until I have permission. Next week, I think.

In spite of the ants in my pants, I am trying to sit right in this present moment and enjoy it. I shall pass the time by sharing a few snappies from our holiday at chateau campbell:

Ivy waits for what she doesn't yet know.

No white Christmas? Make air angels! Just a little excited and rather high on peppermint bark just before the opening of gifts began.

Then a Russian in John Lennon specs arrived with his balding co-conspirator and demanded spirits.

Slinky belts were adorned with care, in hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there.

Piano played with friends in totally unplanned seasonal color coordination.

In the end, it was a wonderfilled weekend. And now I'm ready to shed, jump, run, dive and howl my way into the new year. 2010 just has such a lovely ring to it...

Manifesting Abundance

I'd forgotten something really important to me that I found in the archives of my brain this weekend about the days just before I conceived Ivy. I'm so happy I remembered! I'll share a bit of the story:

Last year I was lying out in the woods with my girls and someone had been drumming (was it me?) and we were all doing a journey. I'd been wanting to get pregnant with my daughter and the ptb totally weren't listening to me. I woke up first and lay watching all of the little crawling creatures and the beautiful earth with all of it's energy radiating out to the surface. So much life! In my journey, I was told that I would be having a daughter, but that she wasn't going to come on my watch. I'd need to exercise some patience. I love to hear this because I'm most certainly the least patient person on earth. Ants, the reminders of patience, shuttled back and forth with little grains for storage, twisting the knife and tormenting me, as they are often inclined to do.

Two weeks later, I was asked to smoke a peace pipe while on a vision quest. It's believed that the smoke carries prayers more efficiently up to the eagerly listening Creator Spirits that way. I recalled the medicine of Buffalo, which I remembered to be something like prayer aligned with purposefulness to bring about results. I'd surrendered, since my journey, to the possibility that I might have to be a mom to a daughter in a less conventional way than I'd previously hoped! I wondered things like, Would Miles marry someone who would be like a daughter to me? and all sorts of creative offshoots of that story. In the end, I prayed for lots of things, but I was sure to include that I had surrendered my expectations to get pregnant or have a daughter.

The concept of manifesting a dream fascinates me. It seems that sometimes one only need declare something in an open, yet surrendered way, and eventually, it comes around. I tend to forget, until I flip back through an old journal, how many intentions I've set that have materialized over the years. 

Which brings me back to big, beasty Buffalo.

Buffalo is a symbol of abundance, but not abundance without connection. Jamie Sams writes:

"Buffalo medicine is a sign that you achieve nothing without the aid of Great Spirit and that you must be humble enough to ask for that assistance and then be grateful for what you receive."

Ted Andrews takes it a little bit further:

"The bison also usually follows the easiest path. When we join the right action with the right prayers, the path is not difficult. We do not have to bull our way through. The path opens and flows easily. This is not a time to push or force. Follow the easiest path. Things will happen in the time, manner and means that is best for us if we allow it. This doesn't mean we should sit back and do nothing, but rather that we should do what we have to do and then let the events take their natural course."

As we get a little closer to the end of the year, my thoughts are shifting to my 2010 calendar. What do I want to plant seeds for? Am I ready for the things I'm asking for to come in? How might I phrase my intentions in a way that finds me open, yet not laid bare to any and all interpretations of my dream? (By those creator sorcerers who would totally misunderstand me!) How do I plan to feed myself?

It sounds superstitious, but there is something about the idea of being very specific about what I'm ready for that makes me feel like my dream is already coming true. I can feel the spark of synchronicity igniting, just by choosing my words carefully.

One of the things I seldom dare ask for is a nourishing home. But the words are leaving my lips more and more daringly. 

I'm making a point to ask for help in finding a community that supports us economically, nurtures us creatively, and inspires us visually.

So there it is. I'm officially declaring it- as I sit among seven teeny paintings, all of whom carry the energy of manifesting abundance. It is an act of self-care to open up and allow the highest good to come in...

 

How will you declare your intention?