Sunday, November 23, 2014
As November nudges us ever closer to the apex of winter (in "my" hemisphere, anyway), I find myself craving solitude. At the same time, the season that we collectively share slings me into my community. You know what I'm talkin' about.
For me it is a time of beautiful contradiction that begs me to center my intentions on the harmonics of balance, as I tend to my own needs and cravings while tending to the collective demands. It's a time that reminds me, like clockwork, of the potential hardships innate to our universal connectedness. And the extraordinary gifts born of those hardships.
It's no wonder I'm drawn to spinning my pendant Spirit Cords in this season. Working with fibers is a given, and as we move into the expanding chill of the season the activity sits comfortably in the duality of my cranial hemispheres. But the attraction to the pendants, each carrying energy, representing personal and collective meaning, is a tug that serves both the communal challenges and my desire for solitude.
Generally, I spin my Spirit Cords when I'm home alone, just me and the dog. The practice is always meditative for me. I always chant mantras, channel reiki and spontaneous blessings as I spin, yet working with the pendants seems to add to the wandering element of focus (know what I mean?) that this creative act offers to me. And this ... this consequential interplay acts to intensify the solitude for which I hunger, offering me exactly the Medicine I need in this season.
I like to think that the Medicine I experience in this creative process is carried with each cord that I spin and then, in turn, is translated to the needed Medicine of the ultimate holder.
To me, this meditation, these thoughts born of a creative ritual, offer an extra dimension of consideration and wisdom as I reflect on the challenge and the gifts, the self and the collective. This is the seasonal Medicine of my beloved Spirit Cords.