Winter is still in control. It's icy grip lays over the land, relinquishing nothing. Not a trace of spruce tips- too early for that- poplar buds frozen solid, with sticky resin inside that burns my tounge with its pungency and balsamic taste, it will be weeks before it is time to harvest that medicine- not even the hawthorn buds are swelling.
The ocean of snow, perfectly poised with precision- waves waiting to crash in on themselves when the skin kisses the vast expanse. But for now- seeds lay sleeping far beneath the icy waves.
Hawthorn buds in waiting
I've been remiss in visiting my spiny hawthorn tree for the Tree Year in the fields below. Crossing the ocean of snow is daunting. She is still sleeping as well. Wild cucumber and grape vines dangle lifelessly from her spiny arms, also waiting. No sign of bird nor squirrel. Just waves of snow 5 ft deep.
But the birches have birchkins...thats my word for catkins...because really they aren't cats, they are birches, and birchkins sounds more fun.
birchkins
It is supposed to storm again this weekend, but could end up being rain, so instead of working today like I had planned ( had a list going even) I went outside. The first time in months it feels like. It really did take about 30 min to get dressed and get the snowshoes on and get the dog ready, but it was almost warm in the 25 degree sunshine. But the snow doesn't think so, nor do the poplar buds.
So here we are, all the plants, and all the herb folk still locked in winters icy reign- still sleeping, still hibernating, still awaiting the kiss of the sun prince to wake us from the 100 day slumber.
I am in love with the world today-
the perfect beauty etched in stone and cloud and shadow.
The sun after rain, and the clouds interrupting with their dance
across the blue bowl of sky.
I am in love with the world today-
chiaroscuro of rain and warm sun.
Blessed rain that washes over us all- like tears,
releasing the pain, the greiving,
letting go of what is passed, washing away what is old.
And the ever generous sun- returning always
to give life to sleeping seeds,
buried deep in the heart,
in earth.
I am in love with the world today-
filled with the deepest sadness and most ecstatic bliss
in the space between each breath.
The wildness of my soul aches
for days like today
everything so clear, so intense
in the contrast between love and heartache.
The beauty of this world so intense, almost too much to hold within myself.
The harvest season has come to an end, the days grow darker, shorter and much cooler. We haven't had a drop of rain since the beginning of September, and the prickly pears are turning pale and thin. The willows and mesquites are turning yellow and dropping their leaves, and the last of the water in the streams trickles softly in the sand, pooling with green algae, and whispering of previous rushing torrents of summer, and promising the future spring bloom.
I've spent the last few days wandering in the hills and meandering up the mostly dry washes, not collecting any medicines, not harvesting wild foods, but just enjoying, filling my senses with the late fall stillness of the desert. Soaking up the sun, laying on the rocks and sand and feeling myself. Today was blustery and cool, and I spent the time singing into the wind in a small blind canyon, feeling grateful that I'm home. It was my first time back to one of my very special places since I came back this summer and remembered how many times I wandered up that wash to that blind canyon wall, and unloaded tears and heartache and felt held and healed by the waters, rocks and lone cottonwood standing sentinel. I look back at my life and reflect on past loves, and lessons. I'm so grateful to be where I am, even though it seems there is always more work to be done in the realm of spirit and soul.
Today, as I sat under a oak tree heavy with acorns on a nice flat rock, pondering love, attraction and its place in terms of universal love and spirit, that permeates every living thing, and connects us all, a precious moth with grey and orange wings lighted upon my hand, and began kissing me lightly with its proboscis, and remained there, kissing and walking all over my hand, loving me with its gentle kisses and trust. I can't imagine why it chose me, I didn't smell like a flower, but either way, I'm grateful for its gift.
A bit belated, here is my post on harvest for the blog party! It's been an incredibly busy harvest season for me, the month of September full of scrambling for the last of the herbs on the mountain tops, and securing some source of steady income.
But as October begins, I can feel the dramatic shift in the energy of the earth and living things around me. Yesterday I spent the morning harvesting apples and pecans at a local organic orchard. It was a blustery day, the wind blowing in the first of hopefully main fall/winter rain storms. And today was cool, breezy and downright pleasant. I love October.
I planted more seeds in my garden this morning, and it seems a bit strange that I should be planting during harvest season, but the the rhythms of the desert have always been unique, and require a bit of adaptation from traditional seasonal traditions.
My contribution for this months blog party is a piece about the Autumn Equinox that I wrote several years ago as I was exploring and recording my experiences and growing relationship with the seasons of the Sonoran Desert.
Enjoy!
In mid-September, we arrive at the autumn equinox.This signals the “official” start of fall according to Western Calender, and it is in September that we notice the change from summer to fall in the SonoranDesert.By the beginning of September the monsoon rains have all but disappeared.The sky is bright blue bowl, empty except for the bright and warm sun.Afternoon temperatures are again high without the cooling wind and rains.But other signs of the shift away from summer are everywhere.Like Lughnasadh, we are still in a time of harvest.This is our last chance to really gather the fruits of the desert; prickly pear, mesquite pods, and manzanita.But alas the days are shortening, noticeably.Dawn comes later and later, and desert dwellers who make a habit of rising early to escape the summer sun will notice the darkness where once the sky was pink and light.You might also notice the significant drop in evening and morning temperatures.Instead of humid and warm in the 70’s or 80’s, many mornings are in the 60’s.There is a decided nip on bare skin now.A sure sign of fall, across the country is the return of students to school.In the southwest this is also a time increased activity in the out of doors and the time for gardening.Though that may seem counter intuitive to someone accustomed to snow and freezing temperatures, here in the Sonoran desert winter offers a RESPITE from the rigours of extreme summer heat and is in most cases quite mild and pleasant.The cultivated plants, flowers and vegetables that fill southwestern gardens rejoice, just as the people do, for the relief from burning sun.
Harvest and Sacrifice
Like August, September is still a time of Harvest from the wild desert plants.The last of the prickly pear fruits, the mesquite pods, and summer annuals like amaranth or warm weather garden crops like chiles and melons.And so we start putting up the bountiful desert harvest for the leaner and drier season ahead.Soon the year will be coming to a close at Samhain, and like at Lammas it is time to turn inward to reap the harvest of all growing and learning we set out to do in the past year.What have you paid special attention to, giving it love and nurturing, what is ready to harvest within your own life?Perhaps it is the joy of a close relationship lover, family or friend. Perhaps it is the financial security of working hard at your work.Perhaps it is inner peace you’ve learned to maintain, even in the face of challenges.Whatever it might be, recognize the work you have done to reap this bountiful harvest.We should also remember to look back at what we may have lost or had to sacrifice to the tulmultous summer storms.What have you decided to let go of in your life? A relationship that was not healthy, an unfulfilling job, or some other grand plan that you somehow didn’t find the time for?The time of the harvest is when we begin to notice what we may have lost, as well as what we have gained in the last year.Perhaps we mourn our losses, maybe you feel fear at having let go of something that offered safety, or comfort.Now is the time to reflect back on those things, recongnize the reasons why they had to be sacrificed, why they were washed away with the summer rains.But do not forget to think about by breaking free from old habits or sacrificing we are indeed opening the door to new GROWTH and space for positive and healthful things to grow in our lives.The saying, “Where a door closes, another window is open,’ is true here.Sometimes we must let go of things that are holding us back or making us unhappy for new opportunities to arise in our lives.By breaking free of the past, like trees being washed away in a flash food, the landscape of our lives changes, where once there were bridges there are now rifts, but now there is room to build new bridges, for new trees and plants to get established.The Harvest is the time to rejoice in what we have gained, and what we have lost in the past year.We are harvesting our OWN growth, and what we’ve created in our own lives.
Growth/Garden/Increased Activity
One particular difference between our dark season here in the desert and that of most of temperate North America and Europe is the increased actitivity.Here in the desert we are rejoicing for the coming cold. For the last 4-5 months we’ve been doing our best to handle the heat and extreme weather conditions,our gardens in a holding pattern, waiting out the intense heat and sun. By the time of equinox we are ready to get outside and play again.The evening temperatures are falling, and though still warm during the day, we know the cooler, milder days are coming.Our activity will begin to increase as the light wanes but the temperatures become more pleasant.In traditional seasons winter is the time of rest, of contemplation, and quiet, staying close to home and family.Here in the desert, winter is a time of celebration.People will start going out and hiking, exploring the desert and getting close to nature.Near the equinox, gardeners start to plant their gardens, vegetables and flowers that are withering in colder climates, are just putting out leaves and buds.In a sense we are Harvesting the new growth and increased activity, after the challenges and tumult of the summer.The weather is calmer, and our lives become a little more carefree, easy going, and energized.The holiday season is approaching and we are celebrating family and friends and the blessing of year-round sunshine.
As you begin to feel the stirrings of increased energy within your body, the equinox would be a good time to decide what projects and activities you would like to devote that increased energy to. Getting out and connecting with the earth is a wonderful way to take advantage of the season.Go hike, get to know the desert creatures, cactus, lizards, birds and winter flowers, sit on the earth, let her life force flow into you and fill you with energy.Perhaps you want to create a garden, growing flower or vegetables will channel your energy into connecting with life on earth. Caring for each plant with the love and attention it deserves.Watch the plants you tend carefully, some days a particular plant may jump out at you, begging to be seen, to be caressed and to share it’s wisdom with you.
It is also wise to turn this increased energy inward, as part of the “dark” season.The dark season is the time for inner work, though our outer life has become more active.Make sure to invest some of your time reflecting and working with your shadow side.While you may be running around full of energy and doing projects during the day, the nights ARE longer, and evenings provide ample time for sitting with yourself and delving into those sensitive, hurt and dark places you might prefer to ignore.
Darkness
The equinox heralds the coming of the dark half of the year.In the desert the darkness is unique.The nights become long and even cold.Though outwardly we are active. The dark half of the year is important in our spiritual life.It provides the time and seriousness to address our shadow side.The equinox is the beginning of this process.Perhaps at Lughnasadh you began to think about those deep dark places you wanted to work with this season.Equinox is the time to solidify your intentions, affirm your desire to work on those particular aspects of yourself.This is the time to make a plan of how you endeavor to delve into the pain and fear that hides within, causing us sadness, anger, or denial.How can you commit yourself to dealing with the pain buried there?Can you make a weekly commitment to journal, meditate or otherwise express those hidden feelings?Will you endeavor to make one small effort each day?
Don’t forget to take time for quiet and rest during this dark time as well.Increased activity requires ample rest and relaxation as well.Perhaps you can devote a few hours soley to yourself each week.Take a relaxing nap, or a bath, or just sit and breathe fresh air seated under a tree. Hug yourself, comfort yourself, honor your rhythms and cycles just as you honor the earth’s cycles and rythms.When you feel the need to rest, do so, when you feel the urge to cry or let out your anger, do so, in a safe and constructive manner.We all need release and the dark season creates a space to do that, while by yourself, or in the company of soul friends.But remember not to wallow in sadness or darkness, or to place blame on yourself or anyone else, this is a time for release and inner healing.
Balance
Like the Vernal Equinox, this is a time of Balance.The Daylight and the Nighttime are equal in length.We are in a season of moderation: neither extremely hot nor cold.While the earth around us hovers in balance around the time of the equinox, we too find ourselves returning to balance. The equinox is a time to ‘rebalance.”What exactly is balance?Is it moderation, or is it more like a pendulum, that sways back in forth, ever in balance with the earth’s movement?What in your life is already in balance, echoing the seasonal balance?What in your life needs balancing?Think about ways you might bring more balance into your life.Does that mean working less and spending more time with your family? Does that mean challenging yourself to take on new activities or roles that you have been avoiding?Whatever it is in your life that could use a breath of fresh air and balancing, make some commitments to yourself about how you will accomplish that change.Write them down in your journal, or on index cards, decorated to your liking and posted around your house.You might even want to create or take part in a “balancing” ritual or ceremony.Remember to balance the increased activity and energy focused towards projects in the cool and pleasant desert winter and the time for inner work, quiet, rest and healing in the darkness.
It is easy for us to stay fixed in one position for so long that we forget to visit the alternatives, we can easy become unbalanced, working too many hours, eating too much, or focusing too much on the negative within our lives.The equinox is a good time to really take stock of your life, inner and outer, and find what feels out of balance, what needs more attention.But it isn’t useful to look at ourselves, find a flaw in our “balance” and then feel guilty or self-defeating about it.Look at this as an opportunity to make changes.You can only learn from your past and mistakes you have made.Think about your life more as a journey of learning, rather than a set of right and wrong choices.Everything we have done has made us who we are, and we have hopefully learned from the choices that have caused us pain or hardship. Look back with joy and thankfulness at your life and take the lessons you have learned to make positive and healthy changes in your life now.
Thanksgiving
The fall equinox is often called the ‘Pagan Thanksgiving.”Though many new things are starting their growth during the mild desert winter, it is nearing the end of the rich and lush summer of abundance.We have much to give thanks for, much to be grateful for.I always give thanks for the coming coolness, and mild weather in the winter, allowing me to spend more time outside, in nature, and in my garden.It is time to be THANKFUL for the blessings of the season, for the abundance of the great Mother Earth, and the harvest YOU have worked for all summer long.It is time to reflect on what we have accomplished and learned, and give thanks for those lessons and accomplishments. It is also a good time to celebrate the bounty of the season and the Earth. I like to celebrate with family and friends and a bountiful feast featuring foods of the season, apples, squash, prickly pears, and mesquite.
A leaf, on fire. A blazon, star of autumn. Herald of coming chill. --Darcey Blue French
It is the time of balancing. Today is the autumn equinox, here in the desert we are celebrating the end of summer, and the coming of cooler days. Summer monsoon rains have disappeared, the days remain warm, but now the nights are cool.
The earth is at a juxtaposition between summer and winter at the equinox. It isn't summer any more, it is dry and the rains have stopped, the sunlight has a particular tinge of gold it casts upon the mountains and the palm fronds, the energy of summer has morphed into something different. But it isn't winter yet, either. It is still hot during the day, and the fruits of summer persist in the last flush of warmth. Plants are going mad in their last days of reproduction, producing flowers, fruits and seeds for the next season. Gardens are being planned for cool season harvests, and the return of students always perks up a sleepy summer pueblo with a zing of new energy and activity.
To me, the fall represents a strange blend of the increased activity of last minute harvests, food preservation, garden preparation, and cooler temperatures that allow for more time spent outside; and the increasing desire to retreat inward, reduce activity, and hunker down for the winter. A sort of hibernation.
It's a balancing act I feel quite poignantly, as I have many demands on my time right now, but the overwhelming urge I feel is to retreat inward, look within, and look at my own needs and preparations rather than those of the world around me. I'm constantly choosing between running out to the wildlands for harvesting the many herbs I need to restock my herbal apothecary for the coming months (I still need oodles of things like more raspberry leaves, more goldenrod, agrimony, passionflower, and desert lavender), picking the last of summer fruits for storing and eating during the winter months (I have yet to go pick prickly pear cactus fruits!), preserving and storing those fruits and herbs (canning fruits, cracking walnuts and acorns, stripping, garbling and storing the drying herbs), and finishing up the preparations on my new garden beds so I can plant winter hardy cool season crops that flourish in our mild winters here ( this means finishing the digging, amending and planting of a 60 sq ft bed all the while the days are still too hot to work in, unless it is before 8 am). All this, plus friends and collegues who need my attention, assistance and energy. Yet all I want to do some days is go up in the hills and lay down in the grass and just lay there, and ponder, I want to do more journalling, I want to start writing poetry again, I want to continue working on my lessons as an Anima student. I'm getting cranky with friends and loved ones who impinge on my time and privacy. I'm like a hibernating bear, scrambling to eat as many ripe berries as I can before the long dream sleep of winter, where I can rest and look inward at the many many aspects of myself that need attention. I'm longing for the security of a well stocked pantry, enough money to keep a roof over my head, and the time I need to care for myself, as well as take care of clients, customers and loved ones who desire my attention. It's a precarious balancing act indeed.
But I know the plants won't wait, if I wait too long, I'll miss the window, if I don't get my winter seeds planted in the next few weeks, the cold season could be too far along when they need to be growing.
So, as the Earth sits on this fulcrum between activity and rest, summer and winter, I sit on my own fulcrum of change. It's amazing to me how human life so closely can reflect that which is happening in nature. So many things are fruiting and flowering in my life, yet other things are on the verge of being let go, like leaves falling to the ground as mulch for the future seasons growth.
So as summer falls away and winter draws closer, I'm scurrying to finish everything I hope to, and looking forward to some quieter times in the near future for deeper reflection, and the security of much desired income so I can furnish my little nest of a house with some basics (a bed, for starters, among other things).
This week I'm heading to the hills for harvesting the higher elevation plants (raspberry, agrimony, monkeyflower if I'm lucky, more goldenrod and more marigold).
Happy Equinox to all, may you reap a beautiful harvest this fall!
Well friends, I'm off to the woods! I'll be without phone or computer for well over a month, swimming in a wild river, eating wild foods, roaming around loving on plants, digging deep into the depths of my heart and soul and hopefully will come out on the other end rejuvenated and with renewed clarity of my vision for my life and purpose.
This is where I'll be, one of my favorite places on earth. The Anima Center offers personal retreats, studentships, correspondence courses, internships and apprenticeships, quests and annual women's and rewilding events. I hope that if you ever get the chance to visit them or take part in the events that you will. They are well worth the effort, committment and intensity.
I'll see you all here in September! Thanks for reading! In the meantime, check out Kiva Roses blog and the Anima Blog for news about what's new at the Anima Center and about herbalism and healing.
I am so blessed. I'm packing up my bags for a trip to the Anima center for the Shaman's Path gathering. Over and over since I've arrived home, I've asked for assistance in many ways and everything I need has come my way. I just wanted to say a heartfelt thank you to those who purchased salves from me this week. You've made my trip to NM a reality, (which is a HUGE thing, as I'm in great personal need of reconnection and sacred healing time in a place of power and love) I'm able to eat, and it has renewed my faith that I can make a living doing what I love. Ask and ye shall recieve, so it goes. I have a vision of health and wholeness and connection to the Earth , and thank you for supporting it in all the ways you have all done in the last month.
Life is beautiful and sweet, full of challenge and growth. Thank you for letting me be challenged and helping me grow into a braver, wilder spirit free of the shackles we like to imagine are keeping us down.
I'll be back after the fourth of July holiday, ready and waiting for clients, herb walk participants and more.
Well I've been back in the desert about two weeks now. I knew it would be hot when I got here, and sure enough it is. It's easy to blister bare feet on the cement in the middle of the day, laundry dries outside in less than an hour.
Honestly, I think I'm actually enjoying the heat. There's a certain special energy to the summer in the desert. The songs of cicadas are louder and stronger every day, as the summer rains draw ever closer. Crepuscular bird song awakens me to blue skies and morning freshness, which evolves into lazy afternoons, rich with the smell of baking earth and chaparral resin.
After a year and a half of constant busy-ness, running off to school and work, leaving little time to savor a cup of tea in the morning, I've been positively relishing and soaking in the slower and lazier rhythm of summer. I fall asleep when I'm tired around 10 pm, sleep my fill and awaken naturally after 9 or 10 hours, smiling at the bright sunshine filtering into my rooms. I fix myself a cup of tea before my sweetie wakes, sip it slowly and quietly on the floor surrounded by herbs and books. Then I light some incense or smudge, lay out my yoga mat and do some gentle yoga stretches, or more vigourous sun salutations to get the blood flowing. I work up a bit of a sweat in the warmth, and then head to the bathroom for a cold, invigorating shower, window thrown wide open, fresh air and sunshine and cold water combining on my skin. It's just about as good as a naked dunk into a fresh, cold river with sunshine and wind ( well as good as it gets in a shower indoors, anyway.) I push the water off my skin with my hands and then rub myself all over with a fragrant cooling oil. Coconut oil is especially good when the weather is hot, as it is a cooling oil, the addition of rose, ylang ylang or peppermint cools and soothes the pitta dosha which can easily swing out of balance in the heat of the summer.
After I bathe, I go to my sweet yellow little kitchen with a gas stove and a clean and organized fridge full of fresh, nourishing foods, and prepare myself breakfast. Eggs dressed with homemade mayonnaise and green chile relish from my dear friends at the Anima Center, spiced brown rice or turmeric laced mung dal ( which is the perfect bean for summer heat, it is cooling, easy to digest and detoxifying to the body), and a bowl of sauteed greens or zuchinni subji, cooked with cooling coriander and cumin.
Around this time my sweetie emerges from the bedroom, and does his yoga practice as I tidy up the kitchen, put away the dishes from the previous wash. After he showers and prepares we head to the local coffee shop to attend to our online business, answering e mails, finding jobs and clients, and working on my articles and business plan.
Evenings are relaxed, either at home preparing a simple dinner, or visiting friends which we haven't seen in over a year. It's been wonderful, I run into someone I know almost every day, regardless of planning to or not. We've been making connections with new people almost as frequently, finding that Yes, Indeed, the desert of Southern Arizona has a special magic about it. The pace is slower, some would call it dumpy, lazy and boring, but the people are friendly, open and energy flows freely, in whichever direction you so choose to direct it.
I think the reason I haven't found a PT job yet, is that I really don't WANT a PT job. I haven't put it out the universe that I want to do something meaningless for someone else. I want and need to focus my energy and drive towards creating a place for me to practice herbalism and nutrition, finding clients, giving herb walks, classes and on nourishing myself and my own personal growth. The last year and half was full of outward activity, with little energy left to direct on personal growth and healing. I feel the lazy energy of summer as a focus inward. It seems counter intuitive since usually summer is the busy time of the year, but here in the desert, the unique environmental rhythm requires you to adjust. The heat makes you lazy, it makes you want to lie around and relax. Too much movement makes you sweat and overheat. Before the rains come to the desert, the environment is almost in a state of dormancy, but there is an expectancy in the air, especially as the time for rain draws nearer. Spring bloom has long since passsed, and there are many dried and withered plants waiting for rain. June is the hottest and driest time of the year here, and almost like in winter, creatures retreat to the shade of burrows and rocks, and emerge after dusk to do their hunting. So likewise, my energy, not quite dormant, but resting and building within in expectation of the bursting forth of a second flush of fertility and growth and change when the monsoons blow in. Every year that I lived in the desert here, summer, especially late summer, coinciding with violent monsoon weather, has been a time of fierce transformation. It has required me to let go of and destroy some aspects of my life, like the rains, winds and lightning wash away and destroy parts of the environment ripe for change, in order to allow the fruiting and harvest of that which truly matters and benefits me. In summer, I've lost jobs, I've lost relationships, I've changed homes and more. I learned so much in the last year and a half away from this desert home, and I feel this time is a time of incorporating what I've learned, finding ways to fit it into my previous way of being an herbalist/healer, and then shedding the chrysalis, letting go of the aspects of myself and what I've accumulated over the last year and a half that do not or will not serve well in this next phase. A personal retreat in August at the Anima Center will further this process, demanding awareness and effort, feeling deeply myself and my calling, and forcing me to grow and let go. This summer too promises to be full of transformation, both destruction and new growth. For now, I'm living and breathing and trying to be fully in each moment without fear of what tomorrow brings, despite the lack of money or a steady wage slavery, enjoying the heat, sipping my iced tea, and cooking something delicious for my friends at this evenings social event.
I'll add another shameless plug for my friends and mentors at the Anima Center in the Gila of Enchanted New Mexico. The annual Wild Women's Gathering is next month, and I encourage any woman to attend for a magical , bliss-filled, healing, empowering week. Here's a little tid bit for you from Loba. http://animacenter.org/blog/?p=118
And here's my own little tidbit!
Spontaneous celebratory song- it really blew my mind, and touched my heart, and spoke to my soul, the way we came together, several times, to make song.Just starting with a simple drumbeat, gentle toning- and we made music! I sensed, in myself, and from the other sisters, that we were touching a very primal, ancient place within us.That place that feels the rhythms of the world, the heartbeat of the earth, the music in the sound of the wind, in the presence of a grandmother tree, and the rhythm that unites us all.As sisters we have the power to hear and call forth those ancient rhythms that connect us all, to each other, and the earth around us. I felt the “Tribe” as we hollered, shouted, sighed, sang, letting ancient and long repressed sounds release from our bodies and lungs.I have never sung with such abandon, relishing the sound of the yelps and howls coming from my lips, and from everyone else’s!!!
The rhythm of the drums induced a mild trance state, for me, and I felt more in touch with my INNER beingness, and with the ONENESS of the earth than I ever have.Energy flowed through me, from the sun, the earth, the wind, the sisters, the ancestors.When we sang to the wind I felt her cool breath blowing gratefully. I felt the ancient heartbeat of that Grandmother Tree under which we gathered.Oh the honor to be able to feel such a connection, with HER, and with my sisters.Each one free from restraints, self-consciousness, or fears.We were purely ourselves, vessels of energy and passion, manifesting in such unique and beautiful ways, drummers, dancers, singers and fiddlers!I am so grateful for that gift that we shared, that you all gave to me.How many long years have I held that sweet and powerful voice inside?Afraid to be heard, afraid of being not “good enough”, and perhaps even a little afraid of the release and power I knew it could produce.I’ve tried before, with friends and loved ones, to sing, to let that voice free, and ended up in tears.Feeling I wasn’t doing it “right”, or just feeling guilty that I had ignored and buried this gift for so many years.
There was no “wrong” way or guilt in our miraculous songs. Harmony, discordance, rhythm, silence, cracks and smoothness…they were all full of so much heart, so much integrity, so much intention, intuitive, present, and authentic self.
By the light of a single candle in the dark, beneath a sacred and ancient tree, the primal tribe of sisters; women of power, and women of intention; came together, to invoke their own power and authenticity, and reach out and feel their connection to each other, and to the sacred earth.
I am so grateful for this gift given me by my sisters, and the great Mother, to revive my gift of song, fully, powerfully, and intentionally! Thank you!
Ananda at Plant Journey's is hosting this months blog party, on plant spirits, devas and the like. Everyone has their own way of communicating with the plants and the spirits inhabiting their life forms, and their own way of envisioning those spirits.
Each plant has a unique energy and in my experience, personality. People often ask me how I can remember so many plants, their latin and common names, and their healing magic. For me, each plant is like an individual friend, one that I come to know as an individual, with it's own name, and quirks, and strengths. Have you ever been out watering your garden and inexplicably, one particular plant seems to be trying to get your attention? Or perhaps you wake from a dream in which you were using or dreaming about a certain plant? Maybe you've had a very deep spiritual connection with a plant during a time of crisis or healing? Or maybe you are just drawn to a plant on a regular basis throughout your life? All of these can be ways that the plants speak to us, in their language without words.
Today I'll share a story of a very special plant and plant spirit that shared a very moving experience with me. Some of my readers may think I'm a bit crazy, or off my rocker, and others will nod their heads knowingly.
I was living in Tucson, and hadn't even really started to study herbal medicine in great depth yet. But I've always had a fascination and connection with plants, and it was no different then. I was in a challenging time in my life, a job that sucked the life out of me, a relationship that didn't nurture my spirit, and in a landscape that was altogether unfamiliar to me. I woke up one sunday morning in early summer, my partner at the time long since gone on a bike ride. I don't remember now if I had had a dream, but I awoke with this overwhelming feeling that I had to go and find a tree. I was to find this tree and leave a gift. I didn't know what kind of tree, or where to go to find it, but I knew it must be done.
I fashioned a small string of special beads, and jumped in the car with my journal and water bottle, and began driving up the mountain. At some point, I felt it was right, and I pulled over into a parking area for a trail head, and I began walking.
I walked for a while, looking at all the trees, wondering which tree I was supposed to find. Until, I found it. It was a scraggly, old juniper tree, half the branches already dead, and the roots exposed by a cut in the soil where water had eroded the dirt. I clambered down the hill off the trail to where this tree was and sat down. I offered my small gift, and suprisingly, my eye was drawn to a large crystalline stone within the tangle of the roots. To me, it was a gift in return.
I sat down and opened my journal to write, suddenly was flooded with feeling. I remember writing down, stream of conciousness, thoughts that were coming to me, and sitting there, in the dirt, with this old juniper tree communicating to me, and sobbing uncontrollably. I felt the sadness of this old tree, and the joy. In my mind she became the spirit of a grandmother, a wise elder mother, long white hair, brown skin, and a sharp eye.
I can't pretend to know how, but there was a bond forged that morning between me and this juniper tree, and a spiritual connection that was undeniable. I still have the words written in that moment, and the stone which she gave to me as a gift, a reminder perhaps. It was the most powerful experience I had ever had with a plant up to that point, and I was struck by the import of it. She was beautiful, kind, strong, wise, gentle and firm. She spoke of years of drought, and years of plenty, times gone by, and years before the road cut through her homeland. Of all the people who walked by on that trail and never noticed.
After a while, when it was right. I packed up and drove home, with that moment treasured in my mind and heart forever. I went on with my life, in my soul sucking job, until several weeks later, when a fire started up in the mountains. It raged for weeks, and the town cried to see the towering clouds of smoke filling the air. They said the mountain wouldn't be the same for 500 yrs. All the old growth trees, gone. The village of Summerhaven, gone. Acres and acres, burned to the ground. Once it was out, I drove up the road again to see the destruction. I drove past the canyon trail where my Juniper tree had lived, and saw devastation. The whole canyon, burned, stumps of oaks, blackened ghosts. And I realized then, my juniper tree was gone. Burned.
Had that great old tree somehow known that her end was near, and called out for someone who would listen? She called to me and when I came, she gave me her parting gifts. She shared with me her life-force in those hours we spent together, and then she was gone. She gave me a very great gift indeed.
Her physical form is gone now, but this juniper tree spirit is with me still, and serves as one of my very important spiritual ally's and teachers today. Every time I see a juniper tree I am connected with the juniper grandmother spirit, strong, wise, kind and giving. She's helped me countless times, asked and unasked, has come in dreamtime, and has shared many an afternoon wandering the hillsides in the desert foothills.
Shimmer shadows shiver Upon the water Leaves, crisp and rusty rattle In the wind. Nostalgia, like a woolen blanket Settles Over me, and the earth That comforting closeness of sleep Or death In the breathless air.
I like taking walks in the cold, windy weather. In Tucson I'd wander up wet arroyos in winter, with the wind blowing, and the sky full of clouds, feeling the wind in my hair, and blow through and around me. I like the movement of wind, vata, whirling, playing, flying. It is a nice contrast to the kapha in me, the steady, unmoving, settled, sometimes stagnant, nurturing earthed nature in me. The wind stirs me up, moves things in me otherwise kept warm and close in corners of my mind. I walked in the wind and the snow today, next to the creek, yellow willow and cottonwood leaves littering the ground, milkweed pods exploded and white fuzz blowing through the air, a flock of blackbirds cackling in the trees.
Walking in the windy, cold weather, with rain, or snow, it makes me feel alive. It awakens the senses of the body...to feel the cold on my skin, to feel the warmth of blood coursing through my veins. To feel the cold, fresh air filling lungs. To see the world letting go of summer so easily. The trees don't struggle to hold on to yellowed leaves, dried flower heads readily let their seeds fall to the ground without worry of what may become of them. Why is it so hard for us humans to let go of things? Belongings, non nurturing relationships, ideas or beliefs which hold us back from growth. Why are we afraid to let things die? It is comforting to me that all of nature lets go of a seasons worth of growth, life, and energy in a graceful period we call autumn. The transition between growth, and death. The giving back to the earth from which all things came. It's part of the gifting cycle, to recieve from the earth, food, water, nurturing, and then die and give it back in the form of organic matter, compost, and seed, for the future seasons of growth. Letting go of one seasons fruits, allows for the following seasons growth and fruit. To hold on to things stops the cycle of gifting, if the trees held onto their leaves each year, the soil wouldn't grow, in which the seeds grow. If flowers didn't let seeds fall or fly on the wind far from home, flowers would not grow next spring.
As I walked I wondered how can I let go of things to allow for new growth in the coming seasons. What do I need to let die? What belongingscan I let go of to allow for new experience in the future? What can I give back from what I've recieved this year as part of the gifting cycle?
I've been reading my Wild Sisters blogs, Tara, who runs barefoot in the dark to feel the night and learn from geese, Kiva who becomes one with the river and the moonlight she swims in....and I'm feeling this awful sensation of suffocating. I was once wild...wandering through rocky trails by moonlight to swim in a mountain stream, becoming one with sunny rocks like a lizard, breathing with Grandmother Oak and Juniper trees, singing to the cliffs in my sacred canyon at sunset with the hawks.... Maybe I should say I was learning to be wild, the wild plants my teachers and friends as I wandered the sacred earth... But now, I am so civilized, so meek, and suffocating. Something about Colorado has made me stuff that wildness deep inside. "There isn't time for wandering, I've homework to do..." "I can't stand the uncertainty that homelessness, even temporary, invites." It's frightening that one of my deepest callings in life, to be wild, live wild, on the earth, of the earth, and with the earth, is so far removed from my daily exisistance here. I could make excuses about giving my energy to school, since I came here to learn from an amazing healer/herbalist. Yet even he finds time to sit in his sacred wild spot weekly. I go from posh home to car, to tame little Natural Living manager job at the local market, back home to eat, study, sleep. My sweetheart shakes me every day, to break me out of this rut of tame acceptance of this rather miserable existence. Yet I insist on finishing school....out of what need? what desire? security for the future-NONEXISTANT. Fear of uncertainty? Possible regret of NOT finishing a program I've been lusting after for three years, with a mentor who is darn near a perfect fit philosophically? Fear of debtors prison? Fear of not "doing the right thing"? Fear of freedom from this convienient little cage society fits you into, lock the door and hand you the key and say "enjoy your life." Why I can't pick up that Damn key and break out of the cage of civilized tameness/lameness. Why have I given up my wandering in the sunlight for flourecsent lights, my plants for books, my wild senses to the soft comfort of houses and cars and tiled buildings.
But that wildness isn't forgotten, or too far below the surface. She breaks free fairly often, and sends me into such a state of dispair, depression, and sickness with this cage I've built. Oh she begs to be let out to wander, to howl at the moon, to swim naked in the river, and sleep under trees. I try to tell her to be patient. Just nine more months....nine more....sounds like gestation. What sort of pregnancy is this? Nine months of clinical healing work, nutrition classes- only to move into a van, hit the road, and head north to disappear into a wild, untamed and vast land/home we envision. Where we pick berries and and fish for food, sleep when we're tired, play when we feel playful, live...actually live, be real, be wild, be home. Is that what this is? Gestation? Can I grow and nurture the wild one within to be birthed again in 9 months? Am I just trying to stave off the inevitable. I can't take much more of this...
I'm tired of financial straps and chains, I want to bathe in moonlight, I want to be dirty again- hell, I even want dirty feet...my poor city feet, they hardly even touch the ground.
Where did my wildness go? Why, oh why, have I stuffed it into the cage, with promises of soon, just a bit longer, why do I yet insist on staying to finish school, when I want to finish, but yet I want to be free now.
I slept for a week in the car, in the moonlight...I felt terrified ,and thrilled, uncertain, but knowing somehow it would be ok. Then I moved all my possessions. Too many THINGS. Must be gotten rid of, things that tie me down to civilization. Who needs a crockpot when you cook on the open fire, or in a pit. Who needs a fridge when you can lacto ferment, dry and find fresh wild food every day....
I'm jealous and envious of my wild sisters. I was once wild too....
Bountiful Mother, heavy with child, ripening fruit. We honor you, Earth Mother, who bestows the earth with flower and fruit Rain and sun. We give thanks for the gifts you give. Abundant blessings of harvest and rain, of learning and growth. Ancient Mother of All creatures, as you hold us in your womb and feed us from your ample breast, we celebrate your beauty, we honor your power. Giver and protector of life, Teacher and mother of all Let us receive your gifts with gratitude Let us honor your gifts in celebration and sharing Let us give back to you, In return, Our love, honor and healing. Bountiful Mother.
"The mother of us all, the oldest of us all, Hard, splendid as rock, Let the beauty you love, be what you do. There are a thousand ways to kneel and kiss the earth"~ Rumi ~
This is where I'll be, one of my favorite places on earth. The 
