On Gratitude, part 153

This week I was gifted with so much; through my friendships, lessons, inner evaluations, many of which drew tears.  I would like to share with you some gratitude that has made me pause this week.  

I harvested the last crop of mint from our garden

witnessed mushrooms in unexpected places

watched this thumbergia plant flower over and over again despite the calendar date.

I received this Frida Kahlo necklace as a gift from Sherry, my fellow Frida persona with who(m?) I share a reciprocal adoration  and who makes life more real for me on a day-to-day basis in so many unexplainable ways

I watched this spider catch many flies, grateful he stationed himself far *enough* from my house to enjoy observing him and his ways

Another extraordinary event that happened was that I was gifted a spot in Anne-Marie Bennett's next Soul Collage class, something that I have ached for over many, many moons and now, thanks to a very generous heart, will let me jump into with all that I can bring to it.   So whilst I thrash around in the shadows, I have been acutely aware of the ones who show up to light my way, spur me on and keep me accountable for where my feet trod on my path.  I humbly bow to all of you in thanks and gratitude for holding space for me, for loving me for who I am.  

Where I've Been

Here and there.  Not here-here.  But here in my life.

I have been leaving some of the Rock Fairy's messages behind

wishing Anne Lamott would write another book about her spiritual journey because I could use her insights and humour right now.

 So much change, some welcome and some not so welcome.  I am trying to go with the flow, open my heart and let it all in and out,

astonished at how often I stop and wonder, "how can I still be finding my way?"

To paraphrase the Wild  Jane Cunningham, I have been trading in nice for real.

 I have not been using my camera much, feeling worn and tattered with looking at myself through a lens.

Discovering that nothing good ever comes when someone starts a sentence with, "Do me a favour...".

I have been disappointed in the way Keen handled my complaint after a pair of their sandals fell apart after a few short weeks of light wear.  I'm back to my old trusty Nike flip flops, still spongy after all these years.

I have also been living without a watch for about a month now, observing how, although I am still bound by schedule and time, I am letting the minutes and hours pass by themselves, as they will.  It is not a little disorienting.

I have been meeting my shadow face to face and battling it instead of embracing it and holding it close to let it cry itself out.  I have been remembering why I left old habits behind, feeling my crustiness tumble over the colour of my soul

and gratitude in the magic that has appeared.

Simplicity -vs- Abundance

Something struck me this past weekend, the weekend that represents the harvest, the abundance of produce and stating gratitude for all on our plates, and that is how I really march to my own drum. While the rest of the country was travelling to be with others, laying tables with a glut of food and drink, I spent the days alone with my boy up at our cottage, taking the bare minimum in what we would need in food and clothing. Less than one shopping bag for what we would consume and one change of clothing, thumbing my nose at the "what if"s of getting dirty or wet. Instead we feasted heavily on nature then came back to a simple dinner with friends, people who are becoming my village.

I saw this shot as the moon came up, realizing how filled I feel. Lately I have often felt filled with anger, irrational waves of venom and victimhood. Seeing my fear of losing control behind these episodes helps me to process the emotions. Pixie Campbell has been talking about Releasing Ceremonies and the value and richness of letting go.

I live in The House of Stuff, my son the most learned of Stuffologists. He hoards not just much loved toys but every stone, twig, leaf, bottle cap, jagged bit of metal that comes his way. As much as I try to cull and recycle and gift away both of our stuff, it must be coming in the door faster than I can get it out. The Art of my letting go is including letting go of the need to keep the house organized, tidy, free of dog hair, washing the kitchen floor (simply because I can't remember the last time I did), finding my focus for what I want and need to do with my time. After months of going inward, letting go of old rituals to go with the flow, I now need to do the opposite. Instead of hibernating in these darkening days I need to get myself out there. I need to unclaim this limbo. Right after I eat about a half a dozen of these:

Journeying

Ahhhhhh. Retreats. Funny enough my trip to Kripalu did make me retreat into myself. I was never a very social person and going off to a place chock full of people I would have to hob-knob with is very much out of character for me. I love to isolate myself, am happy as a clam all on my own, I crave time by myself and have always been like that. Immersing myself in a crowd of 700 people is the last thing I would do if I was in my right mind.

I had been drawn there to do the first level of a course in animal communication with Penelope Smith. In preparation for the passing of my sweet, old dog, I had read Smith's, "Animals in Spirit" book earlier this year. That book changed my way of thinking about pets and animals by 180 degrees. It was an immediate and never-going-back shift. When I put the book down I felt that I had to meet this woman, had to be in her presence. Things all came together when I found the offering of the first stage of her instruction at Kripalu on the dates when I had extra hands on board for my son and I was off of work. Kripalu is a mere 5 hour drive from where I live, completely do-able. It was a words-cannot-describe experience. Naturally, I met like-minded people, equally excited with similar hopes and shared one of a kind experiences. A room of 20 strangers gathered, opened up, learned and hopefully will go out and share. Oh yeah, there was quite a bit of crying too. And a good share of laughter. This little-big guy, Speed, had a few special words for me, thanks Speed, what you gave to me will stay with me always.

Kripalu is a yoga based retreat center with classes for all levels offered multiple times a day. The days I was there it was hot, especially hot and humid for the mountains and it was flooded with yoginis. Nice people, yoginis. I do yoga regularly in my home, even wake up at an ungodly hour to fit it in, but I felt a bit like a geek in high school. I don't wear the yogini clothes, don't speak the yogini speak. The difference between now and that high school awkwardness is that I was there as a seeker and none of that differentness mattered.

I did take one early morning yoga class. It was full to the brim, we bumped elbows and toes and the whole room smelled like feet. It's kind of hard to find your Om under those circumstances. And I am so very grateful there were no random farters in that class. Every other yoga class I have taken there is always one person who really feels free enough to let go. With no judgment meant to those free and unselfconscious farters. There are even times I wish I felt that kind of personal freedom. I'm just not there yet.

I left only one rock behind, deep in the woods.

And speaking of rocks, I ended my journey with a side trip to the Queen of Arts at her home. I got to see her studio, meet her animals (hi Dave!). Even her garden has royalty.

Ever the graceful Queen, she left a beautiful bouquet of freshly cut flowers from her garden (the blue hydrangeas may or may not have been stolen) in the room where I slept.

Even the kitchen window was be-flowered.

I got a candid silhouette of Cosmo the Cat.

But wait a minute - what is that I see, in her garden?

Let me get closer...

Is it..... is it... a large, unpainted rock?!

One moment

That's how I'm approaching this day. One step at a time, one moment at a time. Like an ant climbing a hill with a parcel larger than me on my back. Or so my rock told me this morning.

Some Random Thoughts

I have thought lately that my attitude about homework is tainting Riley's own attitude about it. He gets a lot of homework (in my opinion) for grade 1. Most nights it's an hour to an hour and a half. He's in school from 8:00 to 3:00, home by 3:45 and then it's homework until around 5:00. That seems like an incredibly long day for 6-7 year olds, don't you think? Besides regular homework there are special projects and oral presentations (I kid you not) that take extra time. I see the value in learning study habits early on. I also see the value in letting a kid be a kid. So my bad attitude when we sit down in the late afternoon is likely spilling over. I need to find the energy to call up the spirit that the homework will be fun and interesting and very, very exciting. As exciting say, as going to the park or playing games together or learning something he is curious about instead. And I need to do this now before he thinks doing the absolute minimum is acceptable. When did the academic world of elementary school get so hard?

Another thing I've been thinking about is how, in a number of my posts, I talk about other people's qualities that I envy. I envy the patience or the faith or the perseverance of others. But what I really want to do is not envy these qualities, but admire them. I want that warm in the belly, opening part of my head and heart that accompanies admiration and I think I'm getting closer to it.