Today's Medicine: Just Do It

Since I'm not working at this time, I determined that I would really embrace the job of home and hearth tending. Since November, I've been slowly and surely finding out what that looks like. One of the things I've learned is that it can be overwhelming to think about all the cleaning, projects and organizing that I've let slide over the years. I don't think I've ever felt I had the time to consider how to be more efficient with cleaning. Or realized that no matter how organized I get, if I have a bunch of crap I don't need or want, I will still have to clean and care for it. It's liberating to be able to think about this and and find creative ways to start doing the work with satisfaction, if not outright joy.

At first I wasn't sure where to start and struggled with trying to do too many different things. Then I started asking myself questions that started with, "What would it look like if..." or "What would it feel like if..." For some reason this made me feel less fearful and more able to have an open heart to the process. I decided I'd make sure my kitchen was tidy before going to bed each night. Now, almost every morning I wake to a welcoming kitchen rather than a chore that needs tending before I even fully wake up. Small changes are lasting changes and all that. I also determined that it would go easier on me if I focused on hearth and home tending using the four directions and seasons. This means that during Winter I am working on my library/guest room and home office, which is in the North area of the house. I've had the library/guest room sorted for a while and have done a spectacular job avoiding my home office. For at least six months, perhaps longer, I've been boxing up various piles of clutter from different rooms in my house. These boxes have been piling up in a corner of my home office, waiting for me to get the gumption to finally sort through them. I've felt them looming in the shadows, like some dark and hairy formless being that you see out of the corner of your eye but won't look at directly just in case it's really there. For some reason my brain often chooses not see something that it's procrastinating about. Funny that.

Well tonight was the night that I put my big girl pants on and dove in. I'd managed to sort through a couple boxes before my trip to California, but that didn't make much of a dent in the pile. I'm always astonished at how much stuff I've accumulated over the days, months and years of my life. I decided beforehand I would have several boxes to sort things into, listed below:

1. Not sure why I'm keeping it but not ready to send it off quite yet
2. Paper of all sorts
3. Sacred objects and crafting supplies
4. Genealogy and family photos
5. Artwork and picture frames (I have a whole box of those to go through)
6. Stuff to be put away in it's proper place
7. The "Let it go, for God's sake!" pile
8. Box of notebooks and papers of a ritual/ceremonial/sacred sort that need to be consolidated

As of now, #4 is on the ancestor shelf in the bookcase in my home office. I'll have a paper sorting day in the near future in which I go through my desk and filing cabinet drawers and I'll deal with #2 then. Numbers 1, 3, and 5 are in my workroom, which is fairly chaotic right now and will be sorted sometime in Spring. I've put away the items in #6 and #7 is ready to be released to the wilds. Number 8 is patiently waiting next to my desk for my full attention. My trash and recycle cans are emptied. The fact that I can see the floor again pleases me to no end. It needs to be scrubbed in a serious way and I will tend to that tomorrow. I had already refreshed and moved some altars, so I've got goddesses watching over my shoulder. And it is good that it is so.

I just realized it's starting to feel like a sanctuary again. More work is to be done, like my genealogy projects, but I can do it with a lighter heart. The fact I know where things are again is a huge load off. And not having the hairy beast of Clutterdom lurking in the corner waiting to pounce is also a huge relief. Off now to tidy the kitchen, which shouldn't take long, and take a bath before sleeping. I wonder what dreams will come...

Today's Medicine: Open Heart

I started my morning much like every other morning in my life. I was awakened by a restless dog, who sensed the sunshine behind the blinds, and stumbled downstairs to let both canines out for their morning constitutional. Once inside, I fed them, started my oatmeal, set the tea kettle heating and sat down to read my e-mail and Facebook. I found the link below through a FB friend, and thought to myself, "That looks intriguing." I clicked and waited, not knowing that I was about to experience open heart surgery in a matter of minutes.

http://www.wemissyou.de/

Midway I started bawling. After, I sat, tears streaming down my face, even as they are now as I let the emotions evoked from this simple video wash over me. And the most amazing thing for me is how I laugh aloud, even as I cry like a wee babe. It's astonishing how joy can reveal itself.

When I was a child, I would cry like this whenever I saw a clear cut forestland near my home. I couldn't watch documentaries that showed whale's being slaughtered without falling apart from grief. I learned that I would be made fun of if I voiced my tree-hugger attitudes and felt so alone that I let that voice within grow quiet. As I've grown, I've become hardened to the suffering all around me, sometimes more so, sometimes less. It hurt to care too much. And in one moment, that all shifted, and I feel more free than I've felt in ages.

Humans can be so unaware of the life and beauty that is all around. We forget there is value in things that cannot be tamed, ignore that we too are part of the natural world and exploit or ridicule those who have a heart that beats in time with the wild ones, the seen and unseen. We shut away our longing for connection, for understanding, for love and healing. And this was a brutal and gentle reminder that my own heart has been shut away from the things I love about living on this beautiful Mother Earth.

The road back into joy is often not so joyful. But rediscovering my connection to the world around me, to the beauty of the natural world and it's lost human companions, is well worth any pain I feel along the way. My prayer for today? May my heart stay wide open, may my laughter ring with joy and may I remember that, as a wise friend once said, "It's better to be brave than safe."

Today's Medicine: Action

Wear your 'action pants' with pride and think "love." - from a Clive's Cats cartoon bookmark

Now for those who aren't in the know, in the United Kingdom "pants" refers to underpants. So what this is saying to me is "put your big girl knickers on with loving intention and get to it!" And these days, I need the not so gentle reminder to do so.

The last several years, Winter has become a rough ride for me and I find myself more prone to navel gazing and contemplation than during the heady green energy of Spring or the blazing energy of Summer. Autumn starts the slowing down process and I have been finding that come late November I am more than ready for the cranky weather of the Pacific Northwest to settle into freezing rains and maybe even a bit of snow. (Let's be honest, here: a LOT of snow.) I want to settle into a comfy chair with my journal, a book or a good movie and be a bit, well, fallow. I don't feel as much like creating (other than cookies), engaging with others in any sort of meaningful way becomes a real struggle and my motivation subsides to close to nil. Action is not exactly the first thing on my list, as I'm wholeheartedly practicing not doing something but just sitting there. And almost completely at peace when doing so.

Now before anyone suggests I am saying it's better to be busy than to take time to renew, please note that I am NOT saying that at all. I believe one of the primary purposes of Winter is to make us slow down a bit, to regroup and reassess where we are on our life journeys. Bad weather gives us permission to stay at home, spend time in solitude or with loved ones and perhaps even do something that brings us that enlivening energy: joy. We are being blessed with a sacred pause. And that pause is as necessary as our breath and the beating of our heart. It's that pause that allows us to gather our scattered selves so we can continue doing our work in the world.

And for me, that's where Action message comes in. I am coming up on three months without working outside my home, and that's been a blessing that I cannot begin to quantify. It has taken that long for me to begin to feel within a spark of joy, of creation and of generosity. My last job was one of the most rewarding jobs I have ever experienced, even if it drained my heart and soul to a breaking point. I learned a lot about myself, how I want to be of service to others and I don't ever regret the cost. Now, as Imbolc draws near and I begin to feel the stirring of creativity, of curiosity. I find I am willing to consider actions that before cost too much time/energy/effort or that I feared would leave my well within depleted. This contemplation of choices is altogether liberating, and a little frightening, and I'm doing my blessed best to keep my heart and mind open to the process.

Although Winter will not end until mid March, and we're sure to have many days of wet, chilly and windy weather ahead, I have to say I feel a hopeful optimism that has been decidedly absent for a very long time. I think I'll have to go shopping for new undergarments and see if I can find some with huge pink and red hearts on them. It is almost Valentine's Day, so there should be some options out there. And lord knows, I could use another tangible reminder of choosing to act with love in all things...

Today's Medicine: Impermanence

This week we experienced a full-on blast of Winter. Here in the Pacific Northwest, we don't get snow all that often and when we do, folk have a variety of responses. Some frolic in the falling flakes, some groan and grumple, while others start stocking up on foodstuffs like the end of the world is at hand. I am one of the folk who sit inside the warm and cozy house, watching the birds feed on the extra seed I put out for them or taking the dogs out for a romp. I could sit for hours watching the snow accumulate and the land become blanketed in white. It's a suggestion to me to slow down and enjoy a sacred pause, something I don't do often enough in my daily life.

Now that the rains have come, the great thaw begins. The tree branches are almost bare and the icicles are dripping back into liquid form. As I watch the snow drop from the trees with an audible "flumph," I am reminded that most things do not last. (The jury is still out on some processed foods out there.) It reminds me that that no matter what's going on in my life, positive or negative or somewhere in between, it too shall pass. Sometimes it's circumstances outside my control that shifts the frozen places within. Other times it's my conscious choices that shift me out of stasis into joyful action. And just to say it, even a mediocre action is okay, as long as it's action in some form. Joy doesn't care if the steps we take are grudging and small and reluctant, we reap the bounty just by taking them in the first place.

Today that choice involves sitting still, drinking a cuppa tea, and watching the rain come down. I expect we'll have more snowy days before Winter's end, and I'll enjoy them if they come. For now it's enough to take the gift of a sacred pause forward into the coming days and be grateful for what is NOW.

Today's Medicine: Gratitude

'Tis been a fair while since I last chose to post anything here. 2011 was a year of revelations that are still settling into my being. I have been wanting to get back to writing each day and now have the time to do so. I figured starting here was a good plan and I'll see where things go.

I used to do a Thankful Thursday quite regularly. Nothing too lengthy, just a short list of simple pleasures and abundances in my life. I got to thinking today about gratitude and how powerful a tool it can be for shifting perspective. A simple prayer of "thank you for my life" can motivate me to shift from a place of lack to a sense of abundance. Most of the time I think we focus so much on what we don't have, what we feel we need to feel whole and complete. I forget to pause and see the truth of my abundance.

It's not just that I'm grateful for having a roof over my head, food to eat, electricity and heat, good health, clothing and folk who love me as much as I love them. It's the fact I have a home that I love and enjoy on a daily basis. I have food that I LIKE to eat and have the means to go out occasionally and celebrate living with dear ones. I have a wood stove that brings the a sense of cozy solitude and mellow companionship. I can dance and walk and be aware that my health is impacted directly by my choices. I have clothing that I enjoy wearing and I have choices that allow me to decide how I want to armor myself or express my inner being. And I have folk (two and four legged) in my life who not only love me, but accept my quirks, help me learn how to communicate better and laugh lots. All of these things, and so many more, help me recognize the richness of my life. That's a whole lot of stuff to be grateful for.

So today, as I watch the snow shift into rain, I will be conscious of how gratitude shapes my perceptions. And be grateful that I don't have to be anywhere but here, in the now.

Today's Medicine: Clarity

Last week I had an astounding moment. I was re-hanging the hummingbird feeder in the back yard. (Yes we do have hummingbirds year round up here.) I've seen several over the past few weeks and since we've had freezing temperatures, I've kept an eye on the feeders to be sure they're not frozen. As I'm fiddling with the feeder, up zips this Anna's hummingbird. It hovers about a foot from my face. I freeze my arm mid-air and he begins to feed. A hummingbird. A foot from my face. For a good five minutes, which is an eternity when your holding your arm up and trying not to breathe too much. I've never seen one that close before, so I never knew just how vibrant a magenta the chest feathers are or how loud their wings really are as they hover to eat. It was amazing, it was humbling and I spent the rest of the week feeling truly blessed.

Fast forward to last evening. I had a moment clarity when I realized I wanted to have a more aesthetic approach to my life, particularly in regards to surrounding myself with functional and beautiful things. I want my life to feel as if I'm in a Pre-Raphaelite painting, full of jewel tones, richness and simplicity. I hunger for this in a way I cannot begin to express. It's a deep longing that I often set aside in the face of practicality, yet it cannot be completely suppressed. After all, my house is a perfect example, with each room having at least one wall of deep and vibrant color. I've started thinking of ways I can integrate more of this into my life, how I can begin expand into lushness.

The practical side of an aesthetic approach came through last night as well. I was in the kitchen tidying and realized that I really needed to wash the window. Never mind it was 9pm and I wasn't sure exactly how clean it was getting. It needed doing, I had the energy to do it and so it was done. I was surprised to see which items I removed from the windowsill, which serves as my kitchen altar most days. It now feels more spacious, more clear. Hanging above is a moss agate mobile and a stained glass multi-pointed star. Within the window stands a bee statue and a deep red Goddess vase, as well as the happy Buddha statue made from wood that was my grandmother's. It feels clearer. The kitchen feels like the sacred hearth and heart space of our home. I went to bed feeling accomplished just by doing that one small thing that I'd been putting off for a month.

What I wasn't prepared for was the sense of wonder that hit me upside the head first thing this morning. I toddled downstairs to put the kettle on and looked out the window. The greenness of the holly tree took my breath away. I had not really understood how cloudy and dirty that window had been until the light of day. I don't know how long I stood there gazing at the red berries and prickly leaves. Eventually I decided I'd best put the kettle on and maybe it would be a Good Thing(TM) to wash the window on the outside, as well as the sliding glass door. After a lovely cup of Crumpet Shop tea, I did so. After the morning's epiphany, I was even motivated to wash my car, Minerva. (Yes, in January. It had to be done.) Not only does she embody the idea that sometimes dreams do come true and should be cherished, she's one of my vehicles for movement in the world. And her windows were getting pretty blessed filthy. I feel better knowing that I'll be able to drive around for at least few days without the glare of lights on a dirty windscreen. And I'm sure the pedestrians and other vehicles will appreciate that as well.

If nothing else, I learned today that it's amazing how many details you can see when you pause to clean the lenses through which you see the world...

Today's Medicine: Potential

A new decade. A new year. A new day. Although the winter has frosted the world outside my window, the sun is shining brightly and hope lingers in the chill air. Why is it that January 1st always feels so hopeful? I guess it's because for many it symbolizes a clean slate, a new start and possibilities. As a culture, we've made this day a very powerful tool for change, even if it only lasts until the first celebration where chocolate butter cream frosting is involved. Then our hopes for a new life/self/body image is dashed by the reality that withholding and depriving isn't exactly the best use of change.

Years ago I worked with a woman who always followed her Greek heritage traditions during the New Year. The belief is that whatever you do on New Years day sets the tone for the rest of the year. She spent the days before January 1st cleaning house, tying up loose ends and making sure that New Years day could be spent in leisure, sleeping in and spending time with loved ones. After all, who wants to spend your year cleaning up other people's messes, not to mention your own?

As January 1st looms, I always consider this approach and I've modified it a bit to suit my desires. I did some cleaning this past week, mostly making sure that the house is somewhat tidy. I'm taking advantage of the collective energy of the day to bring moderation to the coming year: I had a leisurely lie-in with the kitties, but not too late. I'll be spending some time today doing spirit work, as well as hearth tending. A long bath is certainly on the menu. I also intend to clear out some clutter today, in the hopes that I will continue to learn the lesson of letting go in a gentle and more graceful way.

May the coming year and decade be as bright and shiny as the new day that dawned. May my life continue to be filled with as many blessings as I can handle, as well as enough puzzles to help me grow. May my heart continue to open and may my eyes see all the beauty that exists around me.