As I rinsed a few handfuls of strawberries for two of my children this morning (Oldest is at school at that time), my thoughts turned toward several things in rapid succession:
Whenever (and wherever) I settle long-term, I want to have an extensive garden. Ideally, I would love to have all of the in-season vegetables and fruits we could use, and not have to depend on markets for any of that. Then I would know for sure that what I had in my hands under the cool water was free of things I'd rather not put into little bodies -- or any body!
That thought turned to gratitude and humility as I reflected on how, despite all of the horrors we have inflicted (and currently do) upon her, Mother Earth still sustains her children...just as I try my utmost for mine every day, that they might not want for anything. The strawberries I held were proof that when we ask, she still gives, even when we've given far too little in return. I thanked the earth for the food I was preparing for my children and resolved to further reduce my family's negative impact upon her.
As I sliced the deep red berries (Littlest has an easier time with them that way and prefers it), I heard little bare feet pattering into the kitchen. She just couldn't wait any longer, and two small, strong arms circled my leg. Blue eyes as vast and enchanting as the ocean tried to peek up over the counter top. "Piece pwease, Mommy? Pweeeeeease? 'Rawbewwy fo' me?"
She opened her little mouth and stood there waiting, a gesture of such innocent trust that even though I've been a parent for going on six years this summer (longer, really, if you consider pre-birth), my eyes welled with tears. As I put a sweet red bit of fruit on her tongue, all I could think was May I always live up to the faith you have in me, little one.
My children, as they grow, are the three most prominent fruits of my life, the result of everything I am and have tried so hard to impart to them, share with them. May they ripen, sweet and strong, in the light of love.
Promise of the Road to Nowhere
Posted by
RxR
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There is a place in the mountains of the Carolinas, off the beaten path a bit, where the federal government broke a promise many years ago. You can read about it here if you want to know the details, but the gist of it is that there was a partial road built into the woods, ending and abandoned at a big tunnel that trails off into darkness. (The road will never be finished now; about a year ago the county was paid a hefty settlement instead, in the interest of closing the matter.)
This road has become known as the Road to Nowhere, and the tunnel is so wide and deep that it is pitch black inside even at noon. Horse-drawn carts have been brought through there...it's wide enough for about six adults to walk through holding hands. And trust me, at night especially, most people would want to! Otherwise you could wander in the darkness for quite a while, getting turned around repeatedly and never managing to make it to either end.
I have had the opportunity to travel to the end of the Road to Nowhere on a few separate occasions, and I have to say that I believe the moniker to be erroneous.
The first time I went through the tunnel with a group of people I was loosely connected to, I was unprepared for the magnitude of the experience. The clear, silent mountain night wrapped around us, and a few people tucked flashlights into their belts or pockets in case of emergency or panic. There's a certain reverence for the tunnel and the history surrounding it that begs for lights off and for quiet as travelers pass through the dark expanse. We did so in groups of three. I was placed between a man several years my senior and the girl who had invited me. Each of them took one of my hands, and one by one our little groups were swallowed by the blacker darkness of the tunnel.
I'm not sure what I expected, but never having been in such extensive nothing-blackness, I was startled by how thick it seemed to me. The very absence of light and anything recognizable (you could not see your hand touching your nose!) seemed to be its own presence, and I could feel adrenaline rising as a primal defensive mechanism kicked on with the removal of even the dim light of the night sky.
The girl on my left tightened her grip on my hand to the point of pain, and we could hear occasional screams and cries ahead of and behind us as people freaked out in the cloying darkness. The tunnel felt like it took forever to walk through. It was so dark you couldn't tell if you had turned sideways and were about to hit one of the walls or not, and if you spun yourself around, you might not ever figure out 'til you exited, which way you were going.
The man holding my right hand broke down at one point. Tears, outright sobbing. He wasn't the only one in our larger group by far. I heard some of the smaller groups coaxing various members to keep going, to just keep going and they'd get through it. We girls put the sobbing guy between us, and I have to admit, the brief moment when I put his hand in hers and let go to re-orient myself on his other side was unnerving.
Somewhere in there, it hit me. We only experience total darkness when we remove ourselves from every source of light. Even on a new-moon-dark night outside, you have starlight (and many instances of man-made light, in the city)...there are these beacons, natural guides. We're not left to founder, blind. If we ever find ourselves in real, total darkness, it is our own doing.
When we emerged from the tunnel of the Road to Nowhere, I saw with gratitude that "Nowhere" was a starlit forest stretching comfortably all around us, trees like so many jubilant friends, shaking their leaves in the breeze as if to say "Well, finally!"
Not nowhere at all. They got the spacing wrong. I was now here. Out of that smothering deep-dark patch of nothing, into everything free and natural and yes. I'm glad the rest of the road was never built, and the rest of the forest remains as it has for centuries, perhaps longer, in its beautiful now-hereness.
This road has become known as the Road to Nowhere, and the tunnel is so wide and deep that it is pitch black inside even at noon. Horse-drawn carts have been brought through there...it's wide enough for about six adults to walk through holding hands. And trust me, at night especially, most people would want to! Otherwise you could wander in the darkness for quite a while, getting turned around repeatedly and never managing to make it to either end.
I have had the opportunity to travel to the end of the Road to Nowhere on a few separate occasions, and I have to say that I believe the moniker to be erroneous.
The first time I went through the tunnel with a group of people I was loosely connected to, I was unprepared for the magnitude of the experience. The clear, silent mountain night wrapped around us, and a few people tucked flashlights into their belts or pockets in case of emergency or panic. There's a certain reverence for the tunnel and the history surrounding it that begs for lights off and for quiet as travelers pass through the dark expanse. We did so in groups of three. I was placed between a man several years my senior and the girl who had invited me. Each of them took one of my hands, and one by one our little groups were swallowed by the blacker darkness of the tunnel.
I'm not sure what I expected, but never having been in such extensive nothing-blackness, I was startled by how thick it seemed to me. The very absence of light and anything recognizable (you could not see your hand touching your nose!) seemed to be its own presence, and I could feel adrenaline rising as a primal defensive mechanism kicked on with the removal of even the dim light of the night sky.
The girl on my left tightened her grip on my hand to the point of pain, and we could hear occasional screams and cries ahead of and behind us as people freaked out in the cloying darkness. The tunnel felt like it took forever to walk through. It was so dark you couldn't tell if you had turned sideways and were about to hit one of the walls or not, and if you spun yourself around, you might not ever figure out 'til you exited, which way you were going.
The man holding my right hand broke down at one point. Tears, outright sobbing. He wasn't the only one in our larger group by far. I heard some of the smaller groups coaxing various members to keep going, to just keep going and they'd get through it. We girls put the sobbing guy between us, and I have to admit, the brief moment when I put his hand in hers and let go to re-orient myself on his other side was unnerving.
Somewhere in there, it hit me. We only experience total darkness when we remove ourselves from every source of light. Even on a new-moon-dark night outside, you have starlight (and many instances of man-made light, in the city)...there are these beacons, natural guides. We're not left to founder, blind. If we ever find ourselves in real, total darkness, it is our own doing.
When we emerged from the tunnel of the Road to Nowhere, I saw with gratitude that "Nowhere" was a starlit forest stretching comfortably all around us, trees like so many jubilant friends, shaking their leaves in the breeze as if to say "Well, finally!"
Not nowhere at all. They got the spacing wrong. I was now here. Out of that smothering deep-dark patch of nothing, into everything free and natural and yes. I'm glad the rest of the road was never built, and the rest of the forest remains as it has for centuries, perhaps longer, in its beautiful now-hereness.
If it takes a village...
Posted by
RxR
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I generally stay away from political discussions, and feel that they're not often productive in the sense of actually moving anything important forward. But there comes a time when aversion to getting muddy amounts to hiding one's head in the sand, and that I will not do.
It's taken me a while to gather my thoughts in the aftermath of the Saturday shooting in Arizona that claimed six lives and wounded over a dozen others, including the probable target, Rep. Gabrielle Giffords. I don't want to spend too much space relating my feelings about this utterly senseless violence. I'm too sad to be angry and too deeply concerned about the causes and implications to just let it go and be content with sending up prayers and sending out positive healing energy to all who are hurting, grieving, questioning right now.
Why do these things happen? Who is responsible? The easy answers, the ones that allow us to sleep at all at night, come quickly:
It happens because so-and-so is a sick, psychopathic individual with no morality.
It's the shooter's fault and his alone; he made the decision to pull the trigger.
He was just waiting for an opportunity...no matter what anyone did, this dude was gonna find a way to kill someone. It couldn't have been foreseen.
Perhaps. But what brings an individual to that point in the first place? Is anyone born evil? Have you ever looked into the eyes of an infant and thought, This one's a bad apple; you can see it already. Better warn his parents! ?
I haven't.
I'm not going to play the blame game, per se. In fact, I think our haste in finding a scapegoat and mercilessly directing our negativity toward that person or thing is part of the underlying problem. To Jared Loughner, Rep. Giffords was his scapegoat, the person he'd decided was responsible for the problems he couldn't overlook.
Blame isn't productive. It sometimes costs lives.
However, I would like to encourage everyone to consider our own accountability -- to every other person out there. Society is what we make it, and our actions today shape the world we live in today, not just at some airy future point of fruition. The people who live in our society are affected by it, by our words and actions. And we get so desensitized to so many things over time that we aren't even consciously aware of the things we do that add nothing good.
Think about it: In a given day, how much of what you say to people, write online, text, etc. is positive? I'm willing to bet that it's significantly less than 50%, if we're honest with ourselves. If negativity rules our communications, it's no wonder then that society is bogged down with toxic news and spiteful interactions and the kinds of things that don't make anyone feel calmer, safer, happier, or more interested in truly listening to one another.
I don't have easy answers. Maybe I don't have any of them. But it seems to me that if we take care to add more of what is bright and positive and trim back our negative contributions, maybe we'd benefit in ways we can't even fathom right now.
I'm not suggesting that we stop saying what is honest and sometimes painfully necessary; open dialogue is a beautiful thing. What I am doing is questioning the necessity of saying some of what regularly makes its way into our conversations, Facebook posts, and headlines. Think about how often words like stupid, hate, fat, crazy, and others find voice, and how seldom complimentary things we think actually find their way to the party they reference. Negativity breeds negativity; likewise, the more positive energy and thought we put out, the more we're likely to encounter in our own direction (and the easier it becomes to focus on expressing the good that's in our hearts and minds instead of just passing by with it unspoken).
My grandmother has this on her refrigerator door:
When considering whether to say or repeat something, first consider:
Is it kind?
Is it true?
Is it necessary?
If not, let it remain unsaid!
I don't believe that everything we say has to be positive, but I do believe in weighing the merit of expression. If something is hurtful or inflammatory, then unless it's necessary for reasons other than hearing oneself speak (self-expression is a freedom that comes with enormous responsibility, or should!), it may better serve everyone involved to let it fall into the abyss between thought and action.
If the media would follow suit as well, who's to say how much nastiness could be quietly bled from society, from our daily exposure to up-to-the-minute stories about more than anyone could ever possibly need to know?
I'll do my part, because if it truly takes a village, then I want that village to be a beneficial place that fosters (to the fullest extent of its influence) the kind of mind and heart that would never conceive of doing anything as heinous as what happened in Arizona on Saturday.
It's taken me a while to gather my thoughts in the aftermath of the Saturday shooting in Arizona that claimed six lives and wounded over a dozen others, including the probable target, Rep. Gabrielle Giffords. I don't want to spend too much space relating my feelings about this utterly senseless violence. I'm too sad to be angry and too deeply concerned about the causes and implications to just let it go and be content with sending up prayers and sending out positive healing energy to all who are hurting, grieving, questioning right now.
Why do these things happen? Who is responsible? The easy answers, the ones that allow us to sleep at all at night, come quickly:
It happens because so-and-so is a sick, psychopathic individual with no morality.
It's the shooter's fault and his alone; he made the decision to pull the trigger.
He was just waiting for an opportunity...no matter what anyone did, this dude was gonna find a way to kill someone. It couldn't have been foreseen.
Perhaps. But what brings an individual to that point in the first place? Is anyone born evil? Have you ever looked into the eyes of an infant and thought, This one's a bad apple; you can see it already. Better warn his parents! ?
I haven't.
I'm not going to play the blame game, per se. In fact, I think our haste in finding a scapegoat and mercilessly directing our negativity toward that person or thing is part of the underlying problem. To Jared Loughner, Rep. Giffords was his scapegoat, the person he'd decided was responsible for the problems he couldn't overlook.
Blame isn't productive. It sometimes costs lives.
However, I would like to encourage everyone to consider our own accountability -- to every other person out there. Society is what we make it, and our actions today shape the world we live in today, not just at some airy future point of fruition. The people who live in our society are affected by it, by our words and actions. And we get so desensitized to so many things over time that we aren't even consciously aware of the things we do that add nothing good.
Think about it: In a given day, how much of what you say to people, write online, text, etc. is positive? I'm willing to bet that it's significantly less than 50%, if we're honest with ourselves. If negativity rules our communications, it's no wonder then that society is bogged down with toxic news and spiteful interactions and the kinds of things that don't make anyone feel calmer, safer, happier, or more interested in truly listening to one another.
I don't have easy answers. Maybe I don't have any of them. But it seems to me that if we take care to add more of what is bright and positive and trim back our negative contributions, maybe we'd benefit in ways we can't even fathom right now.
I'm not suggesting that we stop saying what is honest and sometimes painfully necessary; open dialogue is a beautiful thing. What I am doing is questioning the necessity of saying some of what regularly makes its way into our conversations, Facebook posts, and headlines. Think about how often words like stupid, hate, fat, crazy, and others find voice, and how seldom complimentary things we think actually find their way to the party they reference. Negativity breeds negativity; likewise, the more positive energy and thought we put out, the more we're likely to encounter in our own direction (and the easier it becomes to focus on expressing the good that's in our hearts and minds instead of just passing by with it unspoken).
My grandmother has this on her refrigerator door:
When considering whether to say or repeat something, first consider:
Is it kind?
Is it true?
Is it necessary?
If not, let it remain unsaid!
I don't believe that everything we say has to be positive, but I do believe in weighing the merit of expression. If something is hurtful or inflammatory, then unless it's necessary for reasons other than hearing oneself speak (self-expression is a freedom that comes with enormous responsibility, or should!), it may better serve everyone involved to let it fall into the abyss between thought and action.
If the media would follow suit as well, who's to say how much nastiness could be quietly bled from society, from our daily exposure to up-to-the-minute stories about more than anyone could ever possibly need to know?
I'll do my part, because if it truly takes a village, then I want that village to be a beneficial place that fosters (to the fullest extent of its influence) the kind of mind and heart that would never conceive of doing anything as heinous as what happened in Arizona on Saturday.
5 Reasons why you should question your religion
Posted by
RxR
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(Note: I am not suggesting that any particular religion or spiritual path is inferior to any other. It is my conviction that everyone should at some point question what they believe.)
Why should you question your religion? Not every point here may apply to everyone, but here are five very good reasons -- and all you need is one.
1) Why not? If your current church/belief system discourages questions, what is being accomplished by such restrictions? How is anyone to gain a more thorough understanding of their own chosen spiritual path if they aren't free to ask questions? Ask them anyway. Keep asking until you get answers, even if the ultimate answer you receive is that you will not be given them -- and in that case, stop looking for answers in others and turn your inquiries within. What can you ever gain by stagnating in your faith, no matter what your particular path may be?
2) There is a difference between a parrot and a true follower of any given path. How many people I have known who were of X religion because their parents were or their community primarily was! If I had a dollar for each of them, I would never again have to worry about finances. I was one of them for the first 20 years or so of my life. I could repeat holy text verbatim, knew all of the words to every song and ritual...but when it came down to it, I could not have told you why I believed it all, other than "I've just always been part of this particular tradition/My parents are X so I am too." That is not an adequate position to hang one's spiritual well-being on!
3) You're not altogether comfortable with your faith/beliefs. Maybe you've felt it for a while, or maybe it's only been recently that your discomfort has been growing, nagging at the back of your mind and never quite being squelched despite your efforts to shake it off. Why try to force-fit yourself into any set of beliefs that doesn't honestly and naturally resonate with you? If we look at faith as adhering to a spiritual Truth, which is a tricky subject and a very slippery slope I don't wish to explore beyond touching on the idea here, then it seems to me that such a Truth should not require you to suspend your disbelief of important parts (or any part!) in order to feel at ease with believing the rest.
(One of the wonderful things, imho, about Druidry is that there is so little core 'doctrine' or dogma to follow; Druids are free to embrace the aspects that resonate with them, and it doesn't make us at odds with one another or lacking somehow in the richness and depth of this path as a spiritual journey.)
4) Chances are high that there's a lot about your religion you don't know. Doesn't it make sense, if you are set on following a particular path (and even moreso if you intend to advocate for it), that you would want to learn everything you can about it? Its past, its traditions, the different branches of it and how they came about...even relatively 'new' spiritual paths have rich, full histories with twists and turns and fascinating tales aplenty along the way. Who shaped your religion at different periods in history, and what may have been their motives in doing the particular things they did? How have various rituals evolved over time?
5) Questioning your beliefs can lead to greater security within them -- and with that, the ability to defend your faith if ever you should need/want to do so. If you question your beliefs to the core and find that they don't hold up, what a boon to be freed from something that wasn't truly nourishing your soul! There are a LOT of religions/spiritual traditions in this world, and if you seek you are sure to find something that does feed your spirit and feel like home. I did it. And if you question your beliefs and find that yes, you are right where you need to be and they come from within, not just from external sources pressed upon you, then you have the gift of knowing now why you believe as you do, and that's no small thing! Shine vibrantly from the spirit outward, confident in your faith and the knowledge that you are on a bright, resonant path.
Bright blessings, and as always, feedback/comments are welcome (all I ask is that you be respectful).
WW
Why should you question your religion? Not every point here may apply to everyone, but here are five very good reasons -- and all you need is one.
1) Why not? If your current church/belief system discourages questions, what is being accomplished by such restrictions? How is anyone to gain a more thorough understanding of their own chosen spiritual path if they aren't free to ask questions? Ask them anyway. Keep asking until you get answers, even if the ultimate answer you receive is that you will not be given them -- and in that case, stop looking for answers in others and turn your inquiries within. What can you ever gain by stagnating in your faith, no matter what your particular path may be?
2) There is a difference between a parrot and a true follower of any given path. How many people I have known who were of X religion because their parents were or their community primarily was! If I had a dollar for each of them, I would never again have to worry about finances. I was one of them for the first 20 years or so of my life. I could repeat holy text verbatim, knew all of the words to every song and ritual...but when it came down to it, I could not have told you why I believed it all, other than "I've just always been part of this particular tradition/My parents are X so I am too." That is not an adequate position to hang one's spiritual well-being on!
3) You're not altogether comfortable with your faith/beliefs. Maybe you've felt it for a while, or maybe it's only been recently that your discomfort has been growing, nagging at the back of your mind and never quite being squelched despite your efforts to shake it off. Why try to force-fit yourself into any set of beliefs that doesn't honestly and naturally resonate with you? If we look at faith as adhering to a spiritual Truth, which is a tricky subject and a very slippery slope I don't wish to explore beyond touching on the idea here, then it seems to me that such a Truth should not require you to suspend your disbelief of important parts (or any part!) in order to feel at ease with believing the rest.
(One of the wonderful things, imho, about Druidry is that there is so little core 'doctrine' or dogma to follow; Druids are free to embrace the aspects that resonate with them, and it doesn't make us at odds with one another or lacking somehow in the richness and depth of this path as a spiritual journey.)
4) Chances are high that there's a lot about your religion you don't know. Doesn't it make sense, if you are set on following a particular path (and even moreso if you intend to advocate for it), that you would want to learn everything you can about it? Its past, its traditions, the different branches of it and how they came about...even relatively 'new' spiritual paths have rich, full histories with twists and turns and fascinating tales aplenty along the way. Who shaped your religion at different periods in history, and what may have been their motives in doing the particular things they did? How have various rituals evolved over time?
5) Questioning your beliefs can lead to greater security within them -- and with that, the ability to defend your faith if ever you should need/want to do so. If you question your beliefs to the core and find that they don't hold up, what a boon to be freed from something that wasn't truly nourishing your soul! There are a LOT of religions/spiritual traditions in this world, and if you seek you are sure to find something that does feed your spirit and feel like home. I did it. And if you question your beliefs and find that yes, you are right where you need to be and they come from within, not just from external sources pressed upon you, then you have the gift of knowing now why you believe as you do, and that's no small thing! Shine vibrantly from the spirit outward, confident in your faith and the knowledge that you are on a bright, resonant path.
Bright blessings, and as always, feedback/comments are welcome (all I ask is that you be respectful).
WW
5 Reasons
Posted by
RxR
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I'm starting my blogging in the new year with a new series (yes, I know that Wolf Prints didn't work out all that well, but that will hopefully be revived later in the year as I know now why it fell flat) of posts titled "5 Reasons." The first will be up probably tomorrow.
I hope you will find them useful, or at least thought-provoking. We're not talking "5 Reasons to eat pizza on Wednesdays" (although I'd be interested in reading that post, out of sheer curiosity).
May 2011 be a year full of good things, for the blog and for you as well, dear readers.
Bright blessings,
WW
I hope you will find them useful, or at least thought-provoking. We're not talking "5 Reasons to eat pizza on Wednesdays" (although I'd be interested in reading that post, out of sheer curiosity).
May 2011 be a year full of good things, for the blog and for you as well, dear readers.
Bright blessings,
WW
My daughter, green-child
Posted by
RxR
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I've been musing lately on how quickly babyhood deserts children, how soon they grow past the extra-rich sweetness of those first-blooming stages. My third (and last) baby will be two before spring comes again, and I have been willing gentle Time to slacken and meander sideways a bit, that I might have every nuance of her baby ways indelibly imprinted on my heart twice over before the long pause between the tottering gleeful baby steps of children and those of grandchildren.
It occurs to me time and time again that our precious children are so much a part of this earth that I love so dearly and hold sacred...the two are not entirely separate or even dissimilar, and I'd like to explore that a bit here. And though I may focus on my smallest child, all three at every stage carry the resemblances and the kinships between themselves and the wondrous earth forward with them.
Adoration. Never was there a love so joyful, so all-consuming, as that of a parent for their precious child. One might argue that one's love for the Divine could be equally strong, and I have to say, that may well be true, but in my case, with my beliefs, the two are not at odds at all. And where better to see the work of -- the spark of! -- the Divine than in the living miracle of life itself all around us? The tenderest budding new shoots in springtime are precious and cause for celebration; so too and with resounding magnitudes of vibrant love, the birth of a child and the day-to-day beholding of this tiny new life's unfolding.
Though just three years ago, nothing yet existed of my daughter that I could discern in the cosmos (and truly, I believed I had already had my last child when my son was born, who stands today at three and a half years old as one of the most sensitive and beautiful souls on the planet, right along with my five year old elder daughter), I absolutely cannot conceive of a world without this radiant being. She is radiant, with light and love and happiness that flows freely from her to all around her. Asking nothing, giving everything she has, and not at all proportionate in personality size vs. her physical frame, she is a mentor to me in ways she'll never know. She shines like the sun in her brilliance and is perfect in my eyes.
So, too, the Divine...I ache with joy at loving this small person who for some unfathomable reason adores me right back, and I ache with joy at being a part of and a lifelong devotee to the Divine that surrounds us and is made manifest equally through my shining daughter and every glowing sunrise. I love my daughter with a fierceness that would see me lay my life down to keep her alive and whole without a second thought or a moment's regret; so too would I die for my beliefs.
Beauty. This living land and her inhabitants, the beauty of earth and sky and water, moves me to tears, and I am not one who cries often. From the last warm colors painted across the clouds in a lazy summer sunset to the crisp cold winter morning breaths when the air itself feels as though it anticipates glad tidings; from a blue swallowtail butterfly landing on my open palm to the scent of honeysuckle calling me home, I am continually in awe of this world and of being blessed to live in it for all of my days, however many they may be.
Likewise, when I behold my daughter, all of her small perfections rush at me and totally overwhelm my soul with awe and love and gladness. She touches my heart beyond any irritation or stresses of the day; the dust of such things falls away when she says with her wide blue eyes looking right at my soul, "Mommy, up! Up pease!"
I gently lift her into my lap (who could resist?) and brush her wispy flaxen hair behind one tiny perfect ear. Her little doll mouth with its pink lips and teeny white teeth always curves into a sweet smile at my touch, and sometimes deepens into impish grinning as she reaches out to tap my nose and make honking noises. Her small foot still fits easily in my palm, and my fingers curl around its pale warmth as she waits to see if I'm going to tickle her. I usually do, and I swear to you that the sound of that giggle could make a rose spring up in the most barren heart-soil in the dead of a soul's winter. Her spontaneous bear hugs (she leans in and squeezes and says "Mmmm" and everything!) make a person feel renewed from the inside out, and when she climbs into my arms without even asking, knowing with no doubts at all that she will be warmly received and safe there, I feel my worth redoubled yet again.
I am so, so head over heels for my daughter -- for all three of my children, as they grow strong and yet supple and flexible, like saplings in a newly planted grove -- and for this world, for the whole of the earth and the Divine within and keeping it all. This barely-more-than-a-baby holding my hand is Nature, and it her, and feeling the interconnectedness humming with light and life is pleasure beyond all counting of it.
Bright blessings from a richly blessed one...as are we all, who ever take the time to see it.
It occurs to me time and time again that our precious children are so much a part of this earth that I love so dearly and hold sacred...the two are not entirely separate or even dissimilar, and I'd like to explore that a bit here. And though I may focus on my smallest child, all three at every stage carry the resemblances and the kinships between themselves and the wondrous earth forward with them.
Adoration. Never was there a love so joyful, so all-consuming, as that of a parent for their precious child. One might argue that one's love for the Divine could be equally strong, and I have to say, that may well be true, but in my case, with my beliefs, the two are not at odds at all. And where better to see the work of -- the spark of! -- the Divine than in the living miracle of life itself all around us? The tenderest budding new shoots in springtime are precious and cause for celebration; so too and with resounding magnitudes of vibrant love, the birth of a child and the day-to-day beholding of this tiny new life's unfolding.
Though just three years ago, nothing yet existed of my daughter that I could discern in the cosmos (and truly, I believed I had already had my last child when my son was born, who stands today at three and a half years old as one of the most sensitive and beautiful souls on the planet, right along with my five year old elder daughter), I absolutely cannot conceive of a world without this radiant being. She is radiant, with light and love and happiness that flows freely from her to all around her. Asking nothing, giving everything she has, and not at all proportionate in personality size vs. her physical frame, she is a mentor to me in ways she'll never know. She shines like the sun in her brilliance and is perfect in my eyes.
So, too, the Divine...I ache with joy at loving this small person who for some unfathomable reason adores me right back, and I ache with joy at being a part of and a lifelong devotee to the Divine that surrounds us and is made manifest equally through my shining daughter and every glowing sunrise. I love my daughter with a fierceness that would see me lay my life down to keep her alive and whole without a second thought or a moment's regret; so too would I die for my beliefs.
Beauty. This living land and her inhabitants, the beauty of earth and sky and water, moves me to tears, and I am not one who cries often. From the last warm colors painted across the clouds in a lazy summer sunset to the crisp cold winter morning breaths when the air itself feels as though it anticipates glad tidings; from a blue swallowtail butterfly landing on my open palm to the scent of honeysuckle calling me home, I am continually in awe of this world and of being blessed to live in it for all of my days, however many they may be.
Likewise, when I behold my daughter, all of her small perfections rush at me and totally overwhelm my soul with awe and love and gladness. She touches my heart beyond any irritation or stresses of the day; the dust of such things falls away when she says with her wide blue eyes looking right at my soul, "Mommy, up! Up pease!"
I gently lift her into my lap (who could resist?) and brush her wispy flaxen hair behind one tiny perfect ear. Her little doll mouth with its pink lips and teeny white teeth always curves into a sweet smile at my touch, and sometimes deepens into impish grinning as she reaches out to tap my nose and make honking noises. Her small foot still fits easily in my palm, and my fingers curl around its pale warmth as she waits to see if I'm going to tickle her. I usually do, and I swear to you that the sound of that giggle could make a rose spring up in the most barren heart-soil in the dead of a soul's winter. Her spontaneous bear hugs (she leans in and squeezes and says "Mmmm" and everything!) make a person feel renewed from the inside out, and when she climbs into my arms without even asking, knowing with no doubts at all that she will be warmly received and safe there, I feel my worth redoubled yet again.
I am so, so head over heels for my daughter -- for all three of my children, as they grow strong and yet supple and flexible, like saplings in a newly planted grove -- and for this world, for the whole of the earth and the Divine within and keeping it all. This barely-more-than-a-baby holding my hand is Nature, and it her, and feeling the interconnectedness humming with light and life is pleasure beyond all counting of it.
Bright blessings from a richly blessed one...as are we all, who ever take the time to see it.
Holiday healing
Posted by
RxR
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There is an abundance of peppermint in my house right now, far more than at most other times of the year. It makes me smile to myself, because peppermint is one of my favorite natural remedies for a lot of different things.
What's not to love about peppermint? It flavors things prettily and soothes gastrointestinal ills (especially handy at this time of year when so many people overindulge in various things that make our bodies groan); it eases breathing woes for those of us who don't escape all of the winter crud going around; it perks us up after holiday parties have left us drained, and it's a beautiful plant besides.
This site lists many more uses for peppermint, for anyone interested.
I don't know that it's my ultimate favorite 'healer plant;' different things are higher in my good graces depending on what I need at a particular time! I do favor aloe highly too for its soothing qualities; any smart cook would do well to have an aloe plant in the kitchen for burns!
I sometimes regret that I live in an era where most people know so little about common uses for plants; I myself know so little compared to what my ancestors must have understood! Nature supports us much better than we have supported her of late, that's for sure. It occurs to me that one small way to begin to re-forge that relationship that instills reverence (I don't mean necessarily religious/spiritual, but at least respect!) for the natural world, might be to teach people about these things that plants, the very earth, can do for us on an individual scale...thus fostering gratitude and respect, and perhaps a desire to see this amazing land healed. Thus are caretakers both cultivated and born.
What's not to love about peppermint? It flavors things prettily and soothes gastrointestinal ills (especially handy at this time of year when so many people overindulge in various things that make our bodies groan); it eases breathing woes for those of us who don't escape all of the winter crud going around; it perks us up after holiday parties have left us drained, and it's a beautiful plant besides.
This site lists many more uses for peppermint, for anyone interested.
I don't know that it's my ultimate favorite 'healer plant;' different things are higher in my good graces depending on what I need at a particular time! I do favor aloe highly too for its soothing qualities; any smart cook would do well to have an aloe plant in the kitchen for burns!
I sometimes regret that I live in an era where most people know so little about common uses for plants; I myself know so little compared to what my ancestors must have understood! Nature supports us much better than we have supported her of late, that's for sure. It occurs to me that one small way to begin to re-forge that relationship that instills reverence (I don't mean necessarily religious/spiritual, but at least respect!) for the natural world, might be to teach people about these things that plants, the very earth, can do for us on an individual scale...thus fostering gratitude and respect, and perhaps a desire to see this amazing land healed. Thus are caretakers both cultivated and born.
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