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Monday, March 1, 2021

Well, Look at That: It's March


February, the last full month of winter, managed to live up to old, notable patterns by offering much-needed snowfall, and by taking its time. For me, those 28 days lingered, and I'm grateful for the time and space in which I immersed myself in some expansive (mostly) inner work. I appreciate the s...t...r...e...t...c...h of time in isolation, uninterrupted by social activities of days past. It was Medicine to me. Yet with March's arrival I'm still deep in unresolved hibernation work... and feeling ready to shift with the seasons. So ::shrugs:: I'll carry my unsettled work into the shift.

Isn't that always the way?

And it feels fitting. As seed-starting picks up a pace of need and urgency this month, I'll tap into the seasonal metaphors, connections, and erstwhile work that will support the evolution of February's immersion. The work that nourishes and sustains. The collaborative work with Nona Gaia.. The work of Life; mine, yours, ours. And - in multiple realities - I have more seeds, in volume and diversity, this year than I have - quite possibly - ever had. And that feels fitting too.

So, now, with spring's arrival within reach, let's get to work, shall we?

Peace🕊

Friday, February 19, 2021

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🕊

Monday, February 1, 2021

February, February, February...


I don't care what linear, logical, conventional measures of time say, February is the longest month of the calendar year. 

In the best of times, February can be immensely trying. Even in days BC (Before Covid-19), so many of us would feel the feels of longing 'n' loneliness. In days BC, when I was blessed with space in which community would gather, February was expressed by many as a lonely and challenging month. In those days it was a month when drop-in visits picked up, as well as scheduled sessions, not to mention the month when community gathers were consistently well attended. 

In my part of the world February is the final full month of winter. It is a month that many of us - consciously or not - sense the stirrings of spring, the green feelings within that long for the green stirrings without, like the alliums in our kitchens 'n' pantries; we feel something sprouting that has no ordinary earthy space yet to ground. It is a time that calls us to be imaginative, to create imaginal space for our February stirrings to settle 'n' root. 

This can be challenging even in times when we're able gather and share our February stories, green hugs, compassionate smiles. This year, as we - with healing in our hearts - continue to isolate, discourage discretionary gatherings, especially in indoor venues, and as we hide our smiles behind masks with 6+ feet between us, we face exceptional February challenges, like none in memory. I, for one, await days here in the damp, breezy chill of southern New England when an outdoor fire will offer enough comfort to invite a loved one or two to sit beside me, safely distanced, to share a cuppa, a simple meal, a visible smile... and to hear the healing music of collective laughter... quite possibly the shared Medicine I most miss.

Yet there's other shared Medicine that sustains me: The botanical Medicines of February, the mid-winter Medicines of Nona Gaia. This is the month in which the seed-starting dance picks up its tempo. And I am ready to dance with these familiar friends. So 
blanking ready. I could go on and on here, but instead I invite you to join the dance, especially if you've never danced this dance. Find a vessel, fill it with soil, and place a seed (or a few) within it. Water it, breathe into it, sing to it, and whisper your secrets to it. Dance with it. Tend to and care for that vessel and all it holds, and join forces - quite feminine - to nurture mystical life into ordinary manifestation. Life, that when reciprocal relationship sustains, offers bounty to nourish more - much more - than our bellies. Dance together. In February, and beyond. 

For me, this may just be the most sacred of Medicine that February offers. It is light in darkness. Always. And especially in these dark days we all share. Dance together. 

Peace🕊

Thursday, January 14, 2021

This. Work.

 


Peace🕊

Friday, January 1, 2021

This Thing We Call The New Year


To those of you who honor and celebrate the linear measure of calendar time: Happy new year! 

It is - indeed - an extended moment of collective recognition of the passage of time. That said, I do want to offer my gratitude to all who showed support to all things Walk in the Woods this past year. I appreciate you. So, so much. It was a year of transitions, transformations, and - dare I say - transmutations for me, and for many of us. And here we are in this year we call 2021... and we all have a lot 0f work to do. ::nods:: We always have, yet it feels as if time - complete with this "new year" focus - is of the essence, and it's time to step up, speak up, act up, or get... out of the way. 


And in this moment: That's all I got. ::grin::

Peace🕊

Tuesday, December 1, 2020

Welcome to December's Deep Darkness


I'm taking December serious this year... with some earnest down-time, some ruminative stillness, quiet, and BEing. Because I can. And that's a mighty blessing.

December, in my hemisphere, invites us to delve deep into the expanding darkness of night. December reminds us it's our last chance in this turn of the wheel to do so. December cajoles us to quiet ourSelves... and others, to nest 'n' rest, to sleep more... to light candles 'n' fire... to simmer, stew, braise, roast... to embrace meaning in the long night of the soul... and then some.

I feel remarkably blessed (privileged) to be able to fully engage this December verve this year, without demands 'r distractions. Yule, I expect, will be especially sacred after honoring the darkness of the season in ways I've not done for years, quite possibly ever. While I anticipate the return of the light of our world at winter solstice, I shall continue diving deeper into the blessed darkness that the final days of autumn offer us. It's Good Medicine.

Given the nature of our shared world this year, I invite you - as much as you are able - to make time 'n' space to dive deep into the dark depths that only December delivers.

Peace🕊


Sunday, November 1, 2020

Welcome to November

This is my new year month. November is my passageway into fresh mystery and manifestation. Now, understand that every day - every single day - holds such verve, yet (for me, anyway) November cradles a special capacity to concentrate it. So it is that I throw a full year spread for guidance as I look ahead and see the bold contrasts, the gentle shifts and pristine starts, complete with formidable challenges and indomitable rewards. For all of us. I thank the mighty reflections exposed and disclosed during October's work for this view, and offer gratitude to the counsel of the cards.


As I look to the year ahead I see revisions in my personal sphere. I see this year as the final year for taking on certificate students, closing a 21-year chapter. I see a rededication to my current students, and more seasonal, custom, and spontaneous teachings for all. I see tarot readings returning. And healing works. I see sharing skills 'n' experiences, resources 'n' wisdom in new ways. 

I see lots of work to do. For all of us. Inner and outer. 

I see contempt in all its forms, denied 'n' subtle, brazen 'n' violent, and then some, exposing itself even more blatantly than present... so that we may bind 'n' banish it. Banish it. Banish it.

I see the coming of a long 'n' solitary winter. In this vision I feel this season - the heart of autumn - invite me to check in on friends 'n' loved ones. I see a chilling phase that challenges me to LoVe in new ways.

I see lots of work to do. Lots. Inner and outer. For all of us. I see manifesting. I see magick.

And I invite you to join me in this November passage. And then some.

Peace
. 🕊

Thursday, October 29, 2020

The Season's Garden


Today is for rain. As was yesterday. And tomorrow snow is forecasted. 

Today I'll harvest in the rain. Yesterday I wallowed in October's melancholy and crocheted most of it away. And tomorrow I'll light a fire in the fireplace, light candles, light my inner worlds, and crochet some more.

There will be more harvesting after this snow fall, and the coming of the first hard frost, but it's almost ready to tuck in... the season's garden... and me.

🕊