A Liminal Ramble from the Full Moon Hedge

 

This past full Lughnasadh moon, the first of two full moons this August, has expressed a pronounced yet gentle verve to me.

One of my habitual moon rituals is, at the full moon, to assess all that's in my moon cauldron and to engage the days of waning moon to empty these holy bits so that by the new moon the cauldron is void, empty of holy bits, so that I may choose what to add to explore during the waxing phase. 

So now, as we move beyond this brilliant full moon, it would be time for me to start emptying my moon cauldron in preparation for the upcoming new moon. Make sense? I sometimes wonder if it does. ::nods:: But that's beside the point. You see, this full moon handed me a word, and that word in Linger.

Linger.

I don't know what it means, but I do know that when Luna offers a gift, I accept it. I'll embrace it until such time I'm able - and willing - to acknowledge and honor what I discover as I unwrap and explore the contents of this gift.

Even in my befuddlement I feel how this word, this gift - Linger - resonates within and around me. It feels moored to another word that has been holding my conscious awareness, and driving my recent work - Liminality. This recent work, and the word itself, is inspired by the book Living Resistance, by Kaitlin B. Curtice (a read I most definitely recommend). This work with liminality has been going on for a while, and is anchored somewhere in early 2022, before I read the book, and when I returned to Hedge work, as I call it... working in and with those spaces between spaces. 

Linger. Liminality. Hedge.

So here I am, pondering the intersection of these web threads that are holding me, pronounced yet gentle. Swaying in their embrace as I prepare to pass through the gate of 65/11/2 in October. There's nuance here, yet I can feel the tug to leave that unexpressed for now, and let it linger.

So here I rest - for today - swaying with the swing, pronounced yet gentle, as I Linger.

Linger.

Peace. 🕊

October Peace

October enters my world with a signature chill 'n' damp... a day to stay indoors, out of the gardens, to tend to that which has been harvested. I'll honor the first day of this month by tying the corn to hang, a practice that adds seasonal decoration to our little home, as well as grain to grind when we crave polenta, cornbread, and the like. I'll check on the winter squashes that are curing in the greenhouse, to see if any are ready to join their family in the cellar. There are jars of dried food and Medicine to label and place on their respective shelves. I'll warm the house by making Scarpaccia and more zucchini-oatmeal cookies. 

In the breaking light of this October morning I view the gardens, still full of harvests to be made in the coming days as I keep watch on the forecasts for that first day of urgent gathering. I see beds to be tidied, garlic and shallots to be planted... seeds to drop... and the eventual rest that comes with this month.

I see the quiet, introspective, shadow work that October offers... the reflective 'n' projective work that prepares me for the new year at Samhain, and for the darkest days of the seasonal spiral that delivers us to winter, and for the eventual rest that I, and Nona Gaia, have earned. Together.

🕊

Things Un-welcomed and Cruel

Daddy watching over... in my officina.

Forty-six years.

Today.

46.

And I still miss my daddy. 

I learned a lot this past year. Holistically. We all did, methinks, whether we're aware or not. And I learned some very personal, intimate, specific-to-me things too. Less than a year ago I learned things about relationships that I never knew. Things I was content - so content - not knowing. Things I had no interest in knowing. Things personal to me that were shared with others before they were shared with me. Things personal that were dropped on me without a shred of check-in. Things shared from a person and space of cruelty. Self aggrandizing cruelty toward others, dead and alive, as well as toward me. Things - so far, anyway - unforgivable. 

I learned of things un-welcomed and cruel. Things that have been a piece of my work this past year, work yet unfinished.

Things with which I wish I could chat with my daddy, and with my mom, too. And, sure, I chat with their spirits. My daddy's is quiet, as in silent. My mom's is, unsurprisingly, more vocal and validating. Anyhoo...

My daddy was a man of care and compassion, despite his Nixon-loyal-republican leanings. He was, methinks, a true gentleman, a man of his word, a man loyal to the oaths he carried. I say this having never known him in my adult years (whatever that means). So it's not just that I desire to chat with him, I long for an exchange, a true conversation with him. I'd really appreciate the opportunity to tap into his flavor of justice, justice potentially rooted in that care and compassion I mention. 

If you've followed this blog for any aggregate of time you'll likely know that I embrace living in the  mystery, real and imaginal, for lack of better phrasing. I love the nuance of life, and so much of my work - personal and collective - is rooted in that reality that I love - the mystery 'n' nuance - no matter how challenging or painful it might be exploring all the aspects of my landscape. In that landscape I do my best to pick up or roll over every rock to examine its entire perimeter, and then scratch 'n' dig in the space beneath to explore there as well. It's the kind of work that takes time and effort, and that doesn't offer definitive responses - or answers, if you prefer - from which to act. Rather, it's the kind of work that offers insight, perspective - wisdom, if you prefer - from which to make choices. 

I feel my daddy may have engaged in such work as this. Thus his capacity for care and compassion. My mom was more good/bad, right/wrong, often (though not always) lacking an openness for nuance. Thus her capacity for (what I might call) brisk judgement. And as the explorer of my landscape, I see value in "both" of these... approaches, practices, behaviors. And I possess "both." Yet prefer "one."

But I babble.

My desire to engage conversation with the spirit of my daddy rests in the desire to discuss with him these things un-welcomed and cruel. For his caring and compassionate perspective, to be sure, but also for the fact that he played a part in the story, and shared life with one who continues to be demonized by the storyteller. The un-welcomed and cruel storyteller who never even owned the story. The story likely rooted in some truth, but - clearly, without doubt or question - seasoned generously with lies, cruel and un-welcomed. It was never her story to tell. Still never. Always never. 

I sure wish I could share a whisky with the ol' boy now. To speak of things un-welcomed and cruel. Or to just tell him that I love him still. 

Peace. 🕊

Welcome January

It's really winter now. And with it - for me - comes the most earnest of the quiet time, still time, and inner time that I experience throughout the whole of the year's turning. Yet, unlike the rather indulgent dark days that lean into winter, these dark days have a light that shines progressively brighter on that which is vital, that which must be seen, that which cannot be denied. As the calendar flips and winter sinks roots, I see myself, winged, flying under an obscure wire. As I reflect on the mystery in this portrayal, I also pull it into the cryptic  guidance received from my full year reading. As I do, I see the roots that have coiled, curled, and grown around one another since my new year in November. I gaze outward from a perched position into the shared garden of life and ponder the mysteries that are broadcast there. I sense the plants - their roots and seeds - luring me deeper into their subtle seduction. In this place we - the plants and I - lean into one another, and at once I observe the plants recoiling from others. I hear their tacit longing and feel - yet again - a fathomless heart tug to be a better champion... for them, for the earth, for all life. And an oath is renewed. I glide throughout this terrain that they - my beloved botanicals, my rooted ancestors - reveal to me. I listen intently for their expressions. I hear and feel a deep-reaching blessing wrench from the roots of my heart's actions and axioms. And without doubt or question, I know that the plants want more of this kind of attention. From all of us. And an oath is renewed. Peace. 🕊

Blog4Peace 2018

Words are important. Knowing is important. Willing is important. These are all part of the dream, and the dream is important.

All these things are true. Truer still is the doing. The walking of the words. For doing is the magic that makes all things manifest.

Recall Peace.

Awaken Peace.

 Create Peace.

Walk Peace.
Do peace.
Be peace.
Manifest peace.

Join Mini and all of us to Blog4Peace.

Peace.

Weaving Together

I wore, as is my habit, one of my Spirit Cords to the Women's Herbal Conference this past weekend. It serves as a lanyard, as well as a reminder of my intentions. But I also packed my finger-spun Prayer Cord... the one made with vintage fabrics that came from my Aunt Mary, and leftover fabric from a shirt I made in the 1980s to wear when fishing with my father-in-law (and awesome friend)... the one with thirteen prayers knotted in between the closing knots of creative intention. As I was packing, I was compelled to bring it along, though didn't know why, yet the feeling was so strong that I - as I so often do - trusted the feeling. 

You know what I'm talking about. ::nods::

Then came the drive north, and the homecoming (arrival, if you prefer) and settling-in, and eventual wandering-about. And then there was this... hanging sticks and twine, and waiting scraps of fiber and fabric... a sacred community space waiting to make manifest within a sacred community space along a well-traveled pathway at the conference (within a sacred community space, and so on. Right)? And there it was. I knew why that Prayer Cord came along.

I recall the verve of those thirteen prayers and feel such deep sweetness that it's now part of this community weaving that made manifest over this past weekend. It was magic to be witness to its evolution... to be witness to the beauty that all those prayers, all those intentions, all those wishes and dreams, tears and laughter, hurts and forgivenesses, to all that LoVe weaving together.

The whole weekend.

And still.

::nods::

Peace.

Kindness

This past week has filled my heart with opportunities and "surprises." The kind of opportunities and "surprises" that remind me that the more kindness I nurture within mySelf, the more kindness I see around me. And the more truth I speak, the more truth I see around me. And I am grateful.

Nurturing kindness should be so easy, right? And I feel it getting easier. Yet it is a challenge in this world we live in, a world that seeks to individuate, divide, and set us against one another, that seeks to indoctrinate us that someone (else) is always to blame. It is a challenge when I witness conversations of complaint, or expressions of judgement about things that - in the grand scheme - matter not one iota. It is a challenge. Yet the more I consciously root myself in kindness, the more it becomes part of me. It is a challenge, and work most worthy.

I invite you to give it a go. Nurture kindness in yourSelf. The world needs it. Now more than ever.

We'll revisit the truth at a later date.

Peace.

Make the Medicine

Just as the last of the transplants are placed in the earth, other plants come full with a demanding shout, "Harvest! Harvest!"

There's motherwort, mullein leaf, and catnip hanging to dry, and cleavers, violet leaf, and red clover blossoms taking turns in the dehydrator.

Every day there's something to harvest.

And yet every day there's moments to sit, be, and b.r.e.a.t.h.e. as I witness the evolution and miracles around me, within me, and those yet to imagine and be witness to.

It's these moments of stillness in which the greatest Medicine is extracted.

Make a moment. Extract the Medicine.

Peace.

Spring's Light, My Light

Merry spring, friends! Or autumn, as the case may be. 😊

Yesterday's vernal equinox ushered in the season for which I am ripe, as I am ready to cast off winter's dark mantle. The seasonal mantle that feels so cozy and comforting at winter's arrival, and which grows heavy and cumbersome as the season evolves.

I honored the day of spring's arrival with journaling, with seed starting, with making the season's first batch of pickled eggs, with a wee bit of time outdoors, and some quiet meditation. And reflection.

If you follow this blog at all, you might remember my February ramblings where I shared the perplexing binary challenge - silly though it may seem - that I was facing, and how - by the light of the reflective Moon - it offered me an expanded perspective that guided me deep into the disquieting alchemy of it, into the need to stir my cauldron with all the contrary verve, and allow it to simmer that it may temper and manifest something delicious from the discomfort.

Time has passed, and space has shifted, and now I'm deep in the verve and guidance of The Hermit, where I find Myself shining My light on the spaces I choose. Dare I say, a seasonal serendipity.

The guidance I've chosen since November has been challenging, sure, yet it has nurtured a deepened relationship (roots) to those things that most nourish and sustain me, and - more importantly - that hold blessed potential for nourishing and sustaining my tribe, my rooted ancestors, my beloved Nona Gaia.

And it's fascinating. I'm noticing patterns more easily. And honoring the Medicine within them. There are dots connecting in serendipitous ways, offering deLIGHTful opportunity. Thanks sweet Hermit! One such opportunity will come to fruition in April as I enter my next guidance phase of The Lovers. I feel a ripening. And I am ready.

So - in this vernal moment - as I reflect on the choices I've made these past several months, I offer you this: When you ask Spirit for guidance, heed it well, and follow its lead, for I am confident that providence will greet you.

EnJOY the journey. 

Peace.

Get Ripe, Get Ready, Go.

Today is a day of expectation. I feel anxious. I feel ripe. I feel ready. Yet not without a sense of trepidation. The feeling is palpable, visceral, undeniable in the light sweat that surfaces on my palms, and the physical vibration that cascades down my legs.

Seeking Deep Guidance is challenging. Dark. A touch frightening. If it isn't, you're skimming the surface and no matter how much you tell yourself you are, you're not seeking Deep Guidance. That's my story and I'm sticking with it.

Since my autumnal new year I have felt what I can only describe as a stirring of deep seeds. Seeds that are tugging at my conscious awareness... for the nurturance they need to survive past their sprouting. I feel something imminent awaiting me. And if feels vital.

I know this may sound odd or dramatic (or both) to many, and I'm cool with that, but this realization (like so many others) is born from the kind of personal work to which I've dedicated myself for - at least - the past 20 years or so, and I take it seriously. While this work has been externally supported, it has been exclusively solitary, and yet today I am reaching beyond my inner sphere of wisdom for external perspective, vision, and ::gasp:: guidance. It's exciting. It's disquieting. It's impending.

And I am ripe for it.

More on this later. Maybe.

Peace.

Dark Side of Gratitude

I give thanks for a boat load of blessings. Every single day.

Most often to the soil, the eARTh, Nona Gaia, and to my Rooted Ancestors who contribute so much to my life, and yesterday to understanding that Gratitude, while AWEsome Medicine, has a dark side that yearns for our attention.

May we awaken, honor, and enliven that dark side of Gratitude together, for the benefit of all. 

Peace.

The Eclipse of Patriarchy

Tempus fugit. Summer is hitting high stride. And the pace of the season is picking up steam. It is a vivacious and passionate time.

I'm busy every single day with some harvest or another... in the gardens, drying room, kitchen, or at the craft table. It's a season where SelfCare can be easily forgotten, overlooked, put off for later.

So it's a season to remember to pause, breathe, dawdle, and what better day for such sacred acts than Moon's day, the day of Black Moon Eclipse? The day when my beloved Nona Luna says to papa sun, "I reflect your light back to you, old man. Go shine your light elsewhere, take it back and bathe it in shadow to make it whole and holy again." To me, this solar eclipse is sacred, and I will be sending up prayer to Nona Luna, and to old man sun in his time of quiet reflection, that the light of day may eclipse the poison of patriarchy in this world we share, and restore a nourishing harmony that sustains us and all Life... once again.

To me, this is the Eclipse of Patriarchy.

As it is, so shall it be.

Peace.

Peace and the Power of Love - Blog4Peace

"Peace and the power of love" is this year's Blog4Peace theme and I could take this in so many directions, and it could take me in countless more, yet I shall do my best to ground, center and focus...

My first random thought was this: Peace can be hard. Manifesting and nurturing it takes effort and work. Love can be hard. Manifesting and nurturing it takes effort and work. This is my experience anyway... whether I'm nurturing these tender seeds in my own heart and my own life, in my family and tribe, or in my greater community and world.

I also thought: The words themselves have grown somewhat cliché. They're overused without conscious awareness, like so much of our contemporary communication. And then some. And then I chose to refocus.

And as I sat with this random thinking in the cool, morning sunshine, I guided my awareness into a space of deep quiet and focus. Some call this meditation. I asked that space, "what have been my greatest challenges with respect to this power?"

Here's one that surfaced: I loved my mother. Without doubt or question. And my mother could be very hard to love. There's power in that candid awareness. Regardless of her deeds, behaviors and words, I consistently chose to love her. It could feel obligatory at times, forced even, yet in my personal tenacity, I consistently chose to love her. Even at times when the cruelest of tortures seemed like they might be welcome options. And long stories short, I am glad for my stubbornness. Why? Because I was able to stay rooted to the love I felt, the love that resided deep in my heart flame, the love ~ with all its challenges ~ that I'm confident I invited when I entered this life. And it's in that love that peace resides. No matter how crazy I'd find myself feeling when listening to or interacting with my mother, I'd remind myself, "all you can do is love her." And it was in that truth that I'd feel peace rise up and spread through my body... it's from that truth that we, my mother and I, were able to nurture peace between us and love one another with greater awareness and appreciation. It's in that truth that I evolved to discover that, no matter how I feel about a situation or the actions and behaviors of an individual, all I can do is love.

You may "have" other options. I imagine I do too. And I admit it can be infuriating at times. But I choose love. And there's power in that choice. And the power nurtures peace.

Within and without.

Peace.

Dona Nobis Pacem

Dynamic.
Fluid, shifting, adapting, evolving.
Dense as a jersey barrier.
Soft as a freshly fluffed down pillow.
Challenging.
Effortless.

Whatever Peace may mean to you this day, however Peace may feel to you, share it with us.

For a single word expressed in unison creates a harmony that resonates ... above, below, beyond and within.

Grant us Peace. Indeed.

Dona Nobis Pacem

Art as Medicine

Today I made a little art … me with my paints, mediums and Nature, and The Boy with his pens. It was good Medicine to soothe my soul as I watched the Giants loose so badly.   These "peaces" aren't done yet, but tomorrow I'll likely make some time to complete the final embellishments … in between everything else I have on tomorrow's list!

That's what I made today.

Peace.

.

Peaceful Steps

Fresh steps in the lawn, accompanied by the clover, violets and buttercups ...

… alongside the hops ...

… around the johnny-jump-ups and horseradish …

… over the garden hose …

… by the oregano …

… amid the strawberry blossoms …

… over the marshmallow ...

… near the sweet cicely and lemon balm … all in my new mauve muck boots. More peace for me … peace with pink. Dig it.

.

Love

That's all I got.

Peace.

.

Ready

The earth awakens. 

Spring edges in. 

The daylight waxes, cajoling the darkness in which we've nurtured our-winter-selves into the brightness of each expanding day. With this seasonal verve the faeries return. Not the (gag) Disney-variety faeries, mind you, but the real faeries - the beings that reside in the shadow of the Underworld. 

Already they are making themselves known to me. And to you too, I hope. They emerge from their winter realm as ours brightens. They return to support and facilitate our return. 

As our natural environment shifts with the season, it offers us the natural capacity to see, acknowledge and face our own shadows which - if we're paying attention - become more visible, hang around longer, and grow more intense as spring edges in and evolves toward summer.

The return of the faeries reminds me that it is a perilous folly to reach for the sun and deny the shadow. After all, shadows are only seen in the presence of light. And light returns now, undeniably so, a bit bolder with each day.

This is the season of communal awakening. It is the time to honor our sprouts, the roots and stems that will support the greenery from which life-sustaining fruits will flourish. A time to honor our roots and stems - our backbone - as we make ready to stand and face our shadows candidly, truthfully and with love.

Today … I make ready.

Peace.

Dona nobis pacem

Last November, for BlogBlast for Peace, I offered a simple reflection of how I see and acknowledge ☮Peace☮ everywhere. I know this to be true no matter the circumstance, no matter the challenge, peace is everywhere, for peace is a "peace" of that from which we are made.

I do my best to apply compassion in all that I experience, meager and mighty. I may not always be as successful or as graceful as I might like, but I am willing to act from a place of love and to do my best to see it, honor it, be it, and express it to the world.

Be it in memory.

Be it in the gardens.

Be it in "work."

Be it in "hobby."

Be it in relationships.

Be it in collaborations.

Be it in life.

Be it in death.

Be it in rite.

Be it in creation.

Dream it. Do it. Make it manifest.

Peace. ☮