Order this exquisite book if you do not yet have a copy.
I recently ordered the two books by Robin Wall Kimmerer that I have not yet read, Gathering Moss and Braiding Sweetgrass for Young Adults. I had not known about the latter book, which she cowrote with Monique Gray Smith (illustrated by Nicole Neidhardt) until about a week ago when I started digging more deeply online into the wisdom of Kimmerer. The fact that she’s adapted her masterpiece, Braiding Sweetgrass into a manual on reciprocity for young adults has me particularly excited because the sanctuary I am working to create will have a focus on facilitating a connection between the natural world and youth.
Every time I listen to, or read, the words of Robin Wall Kimmerer I become the rapt student. Life distills into essence through her narratives and a feeling of coming home overwhelms my senses. More often than not, I find myself weeping. And here is why: Even though our modernized world tries to rush us towards unfettered “progress,” our cells are continually pulling us back to their origins. They beg us to become rooted into our collective Mother. They plead with us to come home. There is an undeniable longing that awakens when we (re)learn our origin stories, and no one conveys them more eloquently than Kimmerer.
She is master storyteller. Kimmerer’s gift for weaving indigenous and scientific wisdom into compelling narratives draws the listener/reader in so deeply everything else disappears. Her words tug at the threads of DNA that join the solitary life into the web of all lives. One cannot help but feel the longing for reconnection. I am not holding onto an illusion that I can do it perfectly, but if I can nurture a space where the natural world exists in harmony with its human visitors—who are, after all, children of the land—in a way that threads reciprocity into one small piece of our world perhaps a bit of this longing will turn into joy.
who push you into the uncomfortable, knowing you can thrive.
Not a peak (Mt. Washington) from my drive up I89, but you get the idea
Friday night I drove two hours up I89 to celebrate my friend Heidi’s birthday in Vermont. The drive, although filled with highway miles, was beautiful. When you drive north in New Hampshire, you reach the land of peaks and valleys. It is stunning in winter, and in all seasons. Winter may be the landscape of dusted gray, but it is also the season of exposure. The frozen elements call the eyes to look deeply. To peer into the stasis and see what is being revealed. Here in northern New England, it is the geography of the land’s stories that grab ahold of you in wonder.
The drive took me back to my Goddard days, to sixteen years ago when I traveled this highway to study writing along with ghosts and friendships. This is where I met Heidi. She is the wood and metal to my water and earth. We are opposites on the spectrum of elements, which is probably one of the reasons our friendship formed quickly and endured. We see those places inside of each other that need to be revealed. We see what needs to flourish and grow and what needs to be tempered and tamed.
It was during this celebratory weekend that Heidi told me I should start writing a business plan. Naturally she would find this exciting. It is a total task of joy for woods and metals. Action-packed order. I resisted, naturally, because I am predominately a mixture of water and earth. I relish in the dreamy world of visions, but I also like to manifest them into reality. Heidi knows this, and as all good friends are, she was patient and nonjudgmental as she listened to my tired excuses. “Well,” said. “Do I really need it if I’m going to live there. I know it’s going to be a work in progress.”
“It will be fun,” she told me. “Trust me. It will allow you to begin forming it into manifestation more clearly.” She has seen my visionary template. This working document that has the semblance of structure, but keeps adding on more watery wishes.
Imagine her surprise, and mine, when I returned home the following day, found a business plan template, and began filling it in. “I guess I don’t need to send you mine,” she replied to my text. I hesitated to mention that I was, in fact, having fun in the process. It felt like a capitulation to metal. I didn’t want to sacrifice my water for fear of losing fluidity.
But, I could not deny this watery world of dreams eager for structure and definition. That swirling sea of seeds eager root into growth were waiting for my permission to take form. And as I began filling in the lines and white blocks with words, imagine my surprise and delight with how natural and joyful it felt. Yes, perhaps I was actually having fun with a task that I had told myself would be tedious and dull.
Although I may be mostly water and earth, like all who seek balance, joy arrives when we feed what needs equal nourishment. It is here that we find our hidden strengths, flourish, and spread our winged forms. So in the moment of pause from working on the rather lengthy document that contains the structures of the elements of my vision to create a nature-based sanctuary of connection, I am celebrating the joy of a balancing friendship and the gift of kindness that pushes us into the uncomfortable phase of growth.
In the predawn hours of morning, I dream of water rising. How many times have I dreamt of a flood during this life? Sometimes, biblical in scale. Water seeps through the folds of gray matter, pushing open pathways as life searches for air and sun to grow. It is the element that holds our fear and also our courage.
To find courage, take a deep breath in, then bow to the element. Lift your head through its surface to face the sun, and release your fears with the sound of Whoooo.”
Almost daily, I cycle through the five elements of Chinese medicine while I read about the chaos of this world. In particular, the collapse of democracy in this stolen land that is also my home. How much overwhelm can a body endure? How many lies founded on hypocrisy can the mind decode?
To temper the anger inside of you, grab ahold of its roots before you release it into submission. “Shhhhhhhh!” Repeat as needed.
What will tomorrow look like? I haven’t yet tried to pull the cards, relying instead on the prophecy of dreams. The repetition of metaphors and the tug-of-war between nightmares and bliss. The overshadow of darkness can overwhelm the body as it waits for the light to break through.
Soften your jaw.
How do you always know? A participant asks. I can only guess at probability. The continuous strain of the levy. Sometimes the strain pushes to the point of extreme discomfort. Creating an excess of heat in the body.
To release anxiety, transmute the combustible fire in the body. Haaaaaaa! Becomes a balm to the nervous system, softening the flame inside.Turning the wheels of life with the gentle hands of creation. Haaaaaaa! Allow the light of the sun to fill the body, softening the internal fires.
Relax your forehead and shoulders.
To find faith, I must soften the fortifications of structure. My body knows the programming of words. Call it scripture if you will. I’ll call it a cult because it was the guru mantra chanted by the Hare Krishnas that brought my body to the seat of its traumas.
To free the body’s traumas, dig into the center of the heels with your fingers, or roll a marble under one heel and then the other while standing. Don’t overdo it, fifteen seconds is enough.
In this search for trust after trauma, the body must find a way to release its armor so that the soul can dance with its origins. Joy is not always without sorrow. Hug the inner child close in love first.
Cross your arms over your ribs and hug yourself. Bring the breath inside the body and cradle the infant-self who is close to the place of your origin.This light of life is yours too. Allow yourself become the beloved. Keep the breath cycling inside the body and allow it to feed your inner light.
Almost always, when I hug my inner child, I weep. Coming back to the sea of life, water finds its release in the form of rain to feed the roots of being. Here, rebirth is possible. Here, new life can find more stable roots as it reaches its face to the sun. Haaaaaa!
Usually, we are most protective of our hearts. This vital organ of life that pumps the energy of our bodies is shielded by our ribs, but also by whatever fortress we create in our metaphorical worlds of self- preservation. This is where we hide our grief through lack of trust. The breath, held in density, becomes shallow. The shoulders slump forward in protection. The lungs and heart strain against restraint.
To soften your armor, rake your fingers across your sternum as your move them down your chest. Be gentle, but deliberate. To free the density of the breath, breathe into the bottom of the lungs and allow your grief to find that thread of life that is your light of origin with an “Ssssssssss.” Cross your hands over your heart center (the top, center of your chest) and strengthen that thread of light with two more breaths into the lungs and exhales into the sound of “Sssssss.”
Repeat as needed.
The techniques in this blog are adaptations of the 5 Element practice of EMYoga (energy medicine yoga), of which I am a Foundations Instructor. These techniques are not intended to replace psychological care. If you find yourself struggling to lead a balanced lifestyle, please seek out the care you need. Calling or texting 988 will bring you in direct contact with a metal health Lifeline at no cost to you.
I am struggling with people who are choosing to thrive in a state of self proclaimed joy. Please allow me to explain why. I have nothing against joy, in fact, joy is the state of being that deserves to be grown and nurtured. But here is the caveat: I don’t believe joy can exist in singularity. I believe joy is meant to be shared. And when joy singularly exists in a bubble of protection against the suffering around us, it is by definition a selfish state of being.
In the mystery schools we are taught that each individual is an aspect of the whole. That we come from a place of unity to understand division before we return again to the state of unity. This concept threads through ancient philosophy and spiritual texts. It breaks down the laws of hierarchy and the problematic separatist notions of “other” to remind us that at our essence we are more alike than we are different. Each body is created from the same basic components. Each soul arises from the same source.
There are many people in the diverse body of spiritual fields who have chosen to elevate themselves beyond unity consciousness for personal protection and/or gain. Consider the hierarchical structure of organized religion. Consider the spiritual “teacher” who chooses to place the self above the student. Consider also those who choose to bypass global trauma and suffering so that they can reside in their bubbles of “joy.”
Yesterday, I found myself in a state of agitation when talking with one of those people. She is a good friend of mine. She is a good person, in essence, yet she has chosen to distance herself from the suffering of others so that she can focus on growing her own abundance and joy. She is okay with this, but I am not. Maybe I should be, but I’m not.
As I stated at that beginning of this post, I am not opposed to personal joy. In fact, I believe it is each of our birthrights. But to exist in a state of joy when those around you are suffering not only places you in a state of chosen immunity, it negates the law of unity. It creates a chosen system of hierarchy and otherness that is not sustainable for the wellbeing of all.
Can we truly thrive when others are suffering? In order to sustain her bubble of joy, my friend has chosen to stay uniformed about current events. She has chosen to cut herself off from the crises occurring elsewhere because for now she is in a place of safety and security. There is a popular belief based on the “law of attraction” that what we choose to create becomes our reality. Many people interpret this law in a self-focused manner, believing that individually we create our own reality. Reality, though, is a process of co-creation.
Self-imposed immunity is not sustainable. Eventually the bubble of self-created joy begins to dissolve. Those of us existing in this privileged state (for it is a privileged state that is simply not attainable for those subjected to discrimination) will eventually find ourselves affected by the suffering around us. Complete isolation is not sustainable in a global community. Eventually the effects of trying to exist in a state of separation catch up with us. We may discover that we have been unintentionally harming our children, and thus ourselves. We may discover that we can no longer afford luxuries because those who provide them for us can no longer do so. And, eventually we may find that there is no longer anyone around to elevate us into a place of “joy” because of dissolution of our followers through disillusion.
We must not forget that a singular life is only possible because of the lives that exists around it in support. Therefore, joy, by definition, is not meant to be harbored by one, but to be spread through all.
A recent photo of me taken by my husband. A reminder that when we live through our heart we find the thread of joy.
Last night, as so often happens, I found myself churning through scenes reflecting my fears and insecurities. Few would argue the fact that we are, collectively, living in challenging times. The upheaval that is occurring in our global community can be overwhelming to the point of feeling helpless. Many are wondering what to do. How to be of assistance to those in need. How to find their own inner sense of peace and wellbeing.
Last night, as so often happens, I found myself back at school. Each time I would wake from the dream-state, I would fall back into the same scene of unease. No more! I tried to convince my subconscious. I have had enough! And, then, finally, a scene of peace, healing and transformation. Out of the chaos, I had found my hope.
Our inner worlds reflect our outer worlds, and vice-versa. We are microcosms of the macrocosm. In each of us exists the universe the holds us together. I’d like to share the plot of my seemingly endless dream last night with you in the hope that perhaps it will be of use to not just myself.
As I mentioned before, I was at school in this dream. Being is school is a common theme for me. I believe I have these “school” dreams because my subconscious is literally asking me to learn something. Quite often, these school dreams are frustrating for me. I find myself back in high school, college, or graduate school often struggling with something I am holding onto. Last night, I was back in summer school, at the St. Paul’s School Advanced Studies program. I think this is significant because during that summer before my senior year in high school, I not only met my husband, but I solidified a career trajectory that I would later discover felt inauthentic to who I am and why I am here in this lifetime.
In the dream sequence(s), I discovered that in order to pass my course of study, advanced biology, I needed to complete a short, one page or more, essay on who or what inspired me to fall in love with this field of study. I was in a panic. I had forgotten the assignment until the very last minute. The dream turned incredibly chaotic as I tried to figure out a way to write the essay, literally at the last minute. I knew I could write fast, that was not the primary problem. Other obstacles kept being thrown in my way, including my inability to find my true source of inspiration for choosing this field of study.
And then, suddenly, before I could write this final essay to pass the class, the dream shifted. I found myself in the future with some of the people I work with in my per diem job. We were in a bus on a field trip. As we drove in this open-air bus, we traveled through beautiful coastal scenery. In reality, I find this job mostly unfulfilling and irksome. I stirs up my ego’s insecurities that I have not done enough with my life, and it is, more importantly perhaps, not soul-fulfilling. Yet, in the dream, I was given an opportunity.
Suddenly I found myself standing on this open-air bus holding a young man battling cancer. Beside us was his finance, and other members of the staff, including one of the physicians at the practice. As the bus moved along its journey, I stood in my brilliantly blue shirt holding steady this young man against my body. Healing and peace infused us. Amid everything that was going on around us, I stayed focused on this young man in need, fully present with him. I knew this was what I needed to be doing, holding this young man against my body. Blue, it is worth noting, is the color of the throat chakra; the color that represents our truth/purpose in life.
The messages here may be quite obvious, whether you know me or not, but I would like to extrapolate to a more universal meaning. In this chaotic global time, I have been searching for how best I can use my skills to be of service. My insecurities (that I have clearly not completely released) reside around this struggle between my ego and my heart and the feeling that choosing one over the other may not be enough.
The dream provided me clarity and guidance. It reminded me of who I am and why I am here, and that the essence of who I am is enough. None of us can do it all, or even perhaps, more focus on more than one facet of need. So if you, too, have been searching for how you can be of service in these difficult times, I hope you come to the realization that what your heart is calling you to do is enough. That you don’t have to try to do too much, or do something that doesn’t feel authentic to you. And if you are still uncertain, take a look at your dreams. What are they showing you? And if you can’t remember your night dreams, take a look at where your daydreams take you.
This photo was taken inside a magical forest in England. I don’t know about you, but I see at least three wood snakes.
As many of you are aware, we have entered the year of the wood snake in the Chinese Zodiac. I wanted to take a few moments to explore what this means on an individual and global level. The snake is a creatures that is sometimes revered and sometimes feared. Fossil evidence indicates snakes have been around for at least 165 million years. A highly adaptable organism, snakes exist on all continents except Antartica. Some species are deadly, while others are benign. Most often, snakes notice you before you notice them, if you do at all. Evolved to blend into their environments, snakes are masters of stealth.
In lore that spreads throughout the globe, snakes are depicted as symbols of wisdom and mystery. Sometimes they are heralded as gods, and sometimes as villains. Almost always, though, they are a symbolic of rebirth. Snakes offer an invitation to shed our old skins and find a new way of existence that is different from what we have become accustomed to. They can be both powerful messengers and omens, in both our waking hours and in our dreams.
In yoga, snakes are associated with the kundalini energy, also known as the serpent energy that is said to exist, coiled at the base of our spines until it is awakened. It is a powerful, yet sometimes dangerous energy. Stirring it to life too quickly can cause shock to our systems, yet with care it can lead to powerful creative awakening and healing.
When serpents appear in mythology, they often sprout wings, attesting to the magical, mystical nature of the snake. Consider the depictions of the god Quetzalcoatl from Aztec mythology, Hermes in Greek mythology, and Isis in Egyptian. All adopt the form of feathered serpent gods with the power to heal and transmute.
Add the element of wood to the snake, and the symbolism becomes more complex. In Chinese medicine, the wood element is associated with the season of spring and the emotions of anger and assertiveness. It is the second element in the cycle of five elements that repeat themselves (it might help to think of a snake here swallowing an egg). Beginning in the season of winter/birth and the element of water, we cycle through spring/adolescence/wood into summer/young adulthood/fire, equinox/middle-age/earth, ending in fall/end of life/metal, before we repeat the cycle. It can be an endless loop, or it can be a cycle of growth and transformation.
People who are stuck in the element of wood can become rigid with their thoughts and beliefs. Anger is their dominant defense mechanism. It can be a period of resistance to growth. Consider a tree refusing to release its buds. Consider the kundalini energy tightly coiled to the point of rigidity.
Let’s go back to the elemental wheel and look at in terms of the stages of growth in a human being. Water is the period of birth and infancy. When we move away from the womb and into the embodiment of the individual self, we find ourselves entering the season of spring and adolescence. Here is where the wood element resides. As we all know, adolescence is not an easy or comfortable time for most. In order to move into the early stages of maturity/ young adulthood, represented by summer and fire, adolescents must learn how to temper their emotions as they begin to establish their personal autonomy. It is a period of growth ruled by the ego. Or, in yoga speak, the “I Am” presence.
Many people who enter the world of politics often have wood as their primary element. If you are interested in gaining a better understanding of the five element system in relation to personality traits, I recommend Dondi Dahlin’s book The Five Elements.
Wood, in order to cycle, needs water and sun. It needs to be able to bend and grow. Consider now, the flexible nature of the snake. I find it interesting that we have entered the year of the wood snake when here in the USA (and throughout much of the globe) we are facing an onslaught of wood-driven energy in a quest for power and dominance. It is a chaotic and troubling time, yet the snake offers the promise of transmutation. The opportunity to, eventually, shed long-held beliefs dominated by the ego and move into the stages of growth and wisdom. “America” is very much in the wood stage of adolescence. We have been in this stage since colonialism took over a land that was once in a state of harmony and balance.
In this year of the wood snake, we have the opportunity, both individually and collectively, to move ourselves out of the rage-filled energy of adolescence and wood and into the stage of maturing growth represented by the next element of fire. Fire can be destructive when it is not controlled, but it is always transformative. Fire is the element of creative alchemy. It offers the opportunity to acquire wisdom and a different way of existence than what the ego might want to hold onto. It offers the ability to create something new out of the old.
We are living in an Age of Irony. It feels particularly poignant here in the US, but I know the climate of surrealism and juxtaposition pervades our global landscape. In a quest for individual gains, we trade facts for the fictions we choose to believe, and there is nothing to stop us. Instead, there is an ever-growing trend to throw out rationality and logic and adhere to the inane. Madness has become acceptable. Anything to avoid seeing the stark reality that spreads before us.
The destitute fall for the false rhetoric of the oligarchs who lavish each other with riches and laugh at those who bow in reverence. Fools fall prey to the belief that the riches will fall upon them too. Our shared Mother spreads her fury across our over-populated lands while those who stand upon the pulpits of power preach for uncheck birth. Caring not for the children who spread across Her aching body, we continue to believe that She will hold us dear. How foolish we are to believe what we choose to see, blindly looking through the obvious, disregarding balance.
When Monday arrives, I will be in mourning on a day of ultimate irony. Flags flying at half-mast to honor the humble kindness of a good man while a criminal delights in his power. Power over a land stolen through rape and plunder. How fitting and ironic on this day that we also honor the black King whose eloquent voice soared across the land in notes of freedom and equality. Who encouraged joined hands, and not raised fits. Much like Carter who now rests, no doubt, with woe.
But like with every era, possibility is always present. It is the force that drives uncheck chaos, but also the seeking of harmony. I have to believe that underneath this maddening thunderous thirst for power, unity will be there to hold its collapse, unfolding as it will into a quest for common ground. I have to believe this because, despite the vast sea of differences we choose to reach for, we are each seeking the same haven of solace. We are each seeking a more comfortable place to call home.
I find the winter moon waxing to flood the frozen landscape with light to be the most unsettling. Dormancy is stirred out of comfort in the days before fullness, stirring the detritus of old wounds in the dreamtime in vivid reenactments. But it is during the waxing that we can discover what we are still holding inside of us that seeks for release.
Release, by definition implies ease, but freeing what we are accustomed to holding close is never easy. It requires a trust and surrender that we are not used to embracing. It requires finding a wellspring of promise that unsettles the fortitude of the structure of armor we have we created to define the self. Even though we may not like this creation of self.
Winter is the season of dreams. Governed by the element of water, it stirs the darkness of creation into life in the long cold nights. It is a time of processing the old into the form of our choosing as we move into the budding, growth phase of spring. Winter’s reign is long here in the north. Its breath is so cold, it causes harm to the living body that lingers outside of the haven of hibernation. It is meant to test the endurance of life; this will to survive and even thrive, come spring.
When the moon turns its full face away from Earth and beings to wan, relief trickles through our dreams, offering a glimpses of the inner sun. It is here, after we face the unsetting reminders of what binds us in stagnation, that we can see the promise of rebirth in whatever form we choose to stir into creation. I always look forward to the waning phase of the moon after the fitful nights of waxing, which bring the phantoms of my past out to play. In the waning, I can see the potential. The atmospheric landscape of dreams softens, making images more difficult to recall upon waking, but this softening holds a warmth of light not found in the stark light of the full moon. When the inner sun begins to take reign the magic of the self unfolds. See me, it whispers, I am here. Give me the nourishment I need to grow.
I think perhaps I will miss the old apple tree more than anything else. This first friend whose woody trunk I clung too in times of sorrow and joy. If I move before spring, I will miss her flush of blooms spread over the patio like a canopy of tattered lace. That play with the sun before her petals drop like spring snow. Ephemeral wings blown away with a wind that brings the budding orbs of summer. I will miss her sweet apples, stunted by shade and the organic burrowing of worms.
Sitting in an old farmhouse, someday I will recall the gathering. Full bowls brought into the kitchen to be parsed and boiled with cinnamon. Browned pulp squeezed into the food mill then left to cool. I will think of the small hands before they waved goodbye to childhood, scooping the sauce of her bounty into eager mouths. No need for sugar. What a gift to be fed by her love.
And I will miss the birds she held through birth, and those that searched her giving body for substance through the seasons. Those downy heads of woodpeckers drumming winter’s rhythm. The inverted gaze of the nuthatch seeking the downward hunt. Robins nesting in her leafy boughs just beyond the reach of the cat. Trusting. I cannot forget the orioles who always chose her showiest days to flash their orange and black bodies like forbidden royalty before her petals lay her bare each summer. But then, I shall recall the barred owl peaking through the gray day of my window from her steady arm to tell me , “It is time go and build your dreams.”
Yes, I believe it is the one who bore this life with me here, who I will miss the most when I leave.
Recently, I found myself engaged in a conversation about yoga with one of my regular class attendees. Instead of discussing philosophy or structure, the subject was centered on her daughter’s movement into the field of teaching yoga. After telling me where her daughter was leading classes, her mom chuckled nervously and said, “Well, she still has a real job too.”
Ouch!
I smiled, but inside I cringed. It was apparent the words spilled out from a place of societal programing and expectations, and after they were released, their orator made a stumbling attempt to retract them. Since our conversation I’ve thought about whether I wanted to make it the subject of a blog post. Because this little “ouch” felt much bigger than me, I decided to give it a voice.
So how do we define what a “real job” is?
At least in the country where I reside, a real job seems to be defined primarily by income and degree of education. I think which is most important depends on the definer. If you asked my accountant, the former is really all that matters. When it comes to my taxes, my degrees and experience are not considered, only my annual income. According to my accountant, my “real jobs” are hobbies.
According to me, though, my real jobs are not often compensated with a financial reward. Twenty-one years ago I decided to make motherhood my primary real job, forgoing a financially lucrative career as a marketing communications manager to devote my days (and nights) to mothering. I still consider motherhood the most important job I have ever held. I still consider it my “real job,” even though I have added to it a list of other “jobs” I have done and currently do that add elements of financial support to my family.
Over the years, I have come to believe, ever-more-firmly, that a “real job,” is a job governed by the heart and not by the ego-centric mind. I consider motherhood a real job, just as I do teaching yoga and writing, even when they don’t result in a paycheck or offer 9-5 hours.
I have come to believe that a “real job” brings the individual a sense of deep connection and moments of joy that transcends the ego’s definition of “happy.” An authentic job is driven by the soul’s yearning to learn and grow inwardly, not just outwardly. It allows the person who is leading it to grow in a way that allows others to flourish at the same time.
And I believe that if more of us considered this as a definition of a “real job,” our world would be a radically different place. A better place.
The Light Behind the Story 