garden girl/glamour girl

fancy one day, filthy the next – the sign of a REAL woman!

There are two sides to every coin…and so it is with being a woman. Though I’m the least likely person to blog about hair and make-up, I do have a few things to say.

First and foremost: being a woman is pretty much the most amazing thing ever.

We get to be strong, wild, passionate, free, emotional, caring, nurturing, giving, intuitive and beautiful…each in our own unique way. We create, offer and nurture life from our very own bodies.

Yes, womanhood is a very special thing, indeed.

Even the frivolous parts are fun: hair, clothes, make-up, shoes. It’s fun to dress up, go out, do ourselves up, and head out knowing we look amazing, but more importantly, we feel amazing.

But there’s always the other side of the coin…

Which is that the fun parts of being female tend to be the very things that keep us trapped, timid and…yes…miserable. The ‘fixings’ of being a woman, which are supposed to be whimsical and lighthearted, have the potential to keep us locked in a cycle of endless spending on products, endless time spent on grooming and endless fears about whether or not we look as good as the airbrushed magazines and billboards that ‘follow’ us wherever we go.

I say to hell with that.

It’s time to re-claim our power and re-claim our beauty and do it in a way that feels good to each one of us individually. And to honor ourselves and each other if one day we feel like being covered in dirt in the garden, and the day next we feel like glamming it up just to go to the grocery store.

There is nobody to please but yourself, and being a girl/lady/woman/femme fatale is really, really fun if you approach it with a playful attitude, a willingness to go against the grain and a desire to be open to re-inventing yourself every day you are blessed to inhabit a gorgeous body that is, ultimately (and most importantly!) the Home to your soul.

Sitting with Life…and an old chair on the side of the road

Oh Life, you and your sneaky ways.

You push, you pull, you prod and you produce endless opportunities for me to expand, explore and witness myself within you. You don’t back down. You are relentless.

Which is why I love you.

You take hold of me and don’t let me go. You take me farther than I think imaginable, and then push me out even a little bit more. You are the proud mama bird who knows her timid baby, the one who clings to the branch, is actually ready to fly…to soar.

You watch me enter states of power, fear, (over) emotion, ecstasy, doubt, bliss, trust and certainty…sometimes all in the same day. You give me exactly what I need and want, even when I’m begging you to loosen the reigns.

In these heightened states I am transmuting us into something beyond perhaps what we both even thought was possible. There is immense faith in you, and in me and in us. You never let me down, and I hope I offer the same to you.

You are the raw ingredients, I am the humble artist. We hone our craft together, delighting in how our paintings get richer, juicier, and more alive in time. We cannot rush this process, even though sometimes I’m four steps ahead of myself.

You leave a trail…knowing I will always follow.

And when you see that I’m over my head, or off track, or simply tired and full of emotion, you are gentle and generous with me. You do funny things like leave an old chair by the side of the road, knowing I’ll have to take it in, give it new paint and fabric…a new life.

I’ll create a fresh place to take tea and take all of you in. And in so doing, you remind me that a little rest and reflection is important, too and that sometimes the best action is non-action – simply sitting, sipping, being, watching, waiting…a new adventure always on the horizon.

Underneath uncertainty, discomfort, impatience and exhaustion…I am grateful for all that you are, all that you offer. You never give up on me, as I never give up on you.

I love you.

words take work

Words are a funny medium for an artist.

Art is about expression and expansion. Giving form to an experience and (hopefully) expanding something in yourself through the process of bringing it to fruition.

As with most things in life, it’s a reciprocal experience. The artist wants to expand, and the viewer wants his perception/vantage point expanded.

It’s a happy exchange.

As someone who studied art history, and spends most of her days immersed in an endless bath of color, light, fragrance and texture (through gardening, cooking, and all of my other creative projects) the words on the page – sometimes – look cold and cramped. I judge them as a visually ‘less beautiful’ means of expression than perhaps a gorgeous painting, drawing or sculpture.

They are black and white, boxy, linear, confining – the exact opposite of how I experience the very things I write about.

In this way the medium makes me dig deeper, not able to get lost in the allure of washing bright crimson across a rough canvas…or the feel of smooth, wet clay passing through my fingers.

I am learning to make peace with the visual monotony of my medium, and to embrace the irony of it. The words on the page remind me that something may look one way on the surface, but can be very different if you take time to excavate what’s underneath.

Words take work. Work for the author to chip away, distill, refine, revise. Labor is required of the reader as well; to take the time to be with the words, to open to what they are trying to say.

Both participants have to really want it, otherwise the exchange is over before it’s even begun. Unlike a painting, which is often (sadly) experienced in a matter of seconds, the ‘viewer’ of prose or poetry is committing to spending a certain amount of time with you, just as much as you are committing to them. There is intimacy and trust here, even amongst strangers.

Yes, the writer’s life I’ve chosen (or that has chosen me) is asking me to look beyond its ‘flat’ exterior and dive into what’s underneath the surface. Using the words as a type of code, or as a means to decode or deconstruct something. To be brave and have faith that the words will land as they are meant to, and reach those who want to read them; building a bridge, or perhaps dismantling one that is no longer needed.

Expansion

 

Yesterday I wrote about liberation.

Today this idea of expansion keeps floating around in my awareness, in my being.  Specifically the (first-hand) understanding that with any part of your life that expands – internal or external – there needs to be some way to accommodate the new space, even if (especially if) you initially choose to fill it with nothing.

The sweet, beautiful, nowhere-to-be void.

We are so used to seeing an open space and immediately feeling the need to fill it with something.  The empty wall needs a painting, the extra hour in the evening needs to be filled with watching TV, the tax return needs to be spent before you’ve even received the check.

What about when your soul expands?  This can be sparked by any number of experiences – a death, a birth, offering or receiving unconditional love, union with the divine. It’s infinite, limitless, and of course so personal.

When you are cracked open, and you experience yourself (in your own quiet, anonymous way) as bigger than you can imagine, this can be really scary.  Because all of the walls you thought were real are now just an illusion.  And it’s up to you what to do with it.

This is when the temptation comes in to fill yourself with something, anything to avoid the void.  You want others to fill it for you.  You start to back track.  You’ll do anything for a distraction.  It’s very confronting and you wonder if you’ve done the right thing in the first place.  Maybe it was better (ie more comfortable) just to be as you were, to stay a caterpillar.  Perhaps being a butterfly is not all it’s cracked up to be, it’s too much work to use those wings, to get high, then learn to land – easier to just stay on the ground.

But like anything that expands, there simply needs to be the awareness that a new set of ‘requirements’ is needed.  If, for example, you expand your garden, you may simply initially choose to keep the land bare.  That’s ok for a while.  Enjoy the new space, the new freedom.  But the land wants to be planted just as much as the gardener wants to plant.  That’s the point, yes?  It’s reciprocal, an energy exchange, as with everything in life.

But planting takes some planning, some awareness.  If you plant a new field on the farm, you have to consider irrigation.  More water will be needed.  With this expansion, what worked last week, last month or last year is no longer pertinent.  It’s not enough – it needs to grow to match your growth.  So you need to plan for how you will access the extra water, and it’s not about getting the water from somewhere or someone else (sorry, but it’s true).

Same with the seeds – just because you have the land, you can’t get lazy about where to find what will one day be your harvest.  Because even if someone or something has helped you expand your field, you still need to cultivate, plant, care for and pick what you’ve worked for.  I believe that is why each of us is here – to sow our own seeds, stick around through all the ups and downs as they grow, then reap the harvest (of course sharing along the way).

 All of these things are already inside of you – the water, the seeds, even the land.  We just forget.

 It’s the expansion that helps you remember.

Fear of Being Naked

Funny how we cover things up.

Our bodies are the least of it. Clothes are the thinnest layer.

The thickest layers are the massive barriers we’ve erected between who we really are and what we allow ourselves – or others – to really see, experience or embody. We make this a full-time job.

The way a naked breast (at least in this country) evokes a sense of glimpsing something forbidden, exposing – and sharing – an open heart is damn near pornography.

Being true, simple, just yourself without labels or judgment can feel naked, exposed, uncomfortable. Some may even perceive it as confrontational, rebellious, aloof. Who are you to be uncensored, truthful, simple when I have to spend so much time and energy creating this persona?

Why is accepting – and just being – who we are such a big deal? Why do we go to such great lengths to cover our truth through status, material things and the way we want others to perceive us? As scary as being naked in the middle of a crowd sounds, being truly exposed – pure – in our soul, at least initially, seems like the scariest thing of all.

As I travel further into this space of “here and now,” I can really see and appreciate the simple beauty of just being. There are no ‘stories’ in the here and now, everything just ‘is.’ The dishes in the sink are simply kiln fired clay that held last night’s dinner. There is no poor-me story about the ‘endless housework.’ The whiny child is simply caught up in his own emotion. There is no story about how the job of motherhood is overwhelming. And the light and beauty I know, feel and experience inside myself just is. It’s not something overly special nor is it something to be toned down. It’s just me.

Here and now is not cumulative nor is it anticipatory. It just is. And I am beginning to flow into this space of presence which feels inviting, lovely. Like a warm embrace. The purest kind: one soul to another, me to me.

Nowhere is this more evident than in nature. Nature is the definition of ‘what is.’ The mist is simply hovering around the mountain at seven in the morning, the horses are eating grass, the sage is offering food to the hummingbirds. There are no stories, no barriers. It just is…and it’s really, really beautiful.

Here & Now (kind of) Sucks Ass

Oh Life, you and your sneaky ways. I’m glad I give you so much to laugh about in our endless dialog.

Me: “I’ve worked so hard. I’m never not working. I’m almost there, just a few more turns up the mountain before I reach the top and have You all figured out.”
You: unable to speak through howling laughter

One of the things about breaking down walls, old habits, old beliefs, old identities and old stories is that you have to be prepared to sit with what’s on the other side.

And what exactly would that be?

Big. Fat. Nothing.

And what I mean by that is that underneath all the old stories, thoughts, patterns and perceived pain that we invite into our daily lives is…drum roll…The Present Moment.

I know, I know. That’s the thing that we spiritual seekers are told is the Mecca of our journey. It’s the holy grail. It’s the pot of gold at the end of a freaky fucking rainbow.

Well, let me tell you, first hand, at least initially it’s not all that it’s cracked up to be. Because when you’ve torn everything down, torched it all, there is a huge wide open space. Bigger than you can imagine. That’s great, right?

Well, sort of.

Because when you no longer have the option to use old stories as your identity, that means you can no longer can use the old stories as an excuse not to be your truest self. The past now is no longer relevant. And if you are calling yourself out on your shit and letting go of bad habits, that means you no longer can call up your bad habits to go for a round or two. Which means you can throw distractions out the window, so you have to be…your truest self. And if you are embracing total trust and faith (as I have, completely), that means all fear naturally drops away. Gone. Which means that when you think about the future, there is really nothing to be afraid of, so you can’t fall back on the debilitating ‘what if’ either.

Which means that you are pretty much right here, right now. Which is not really all it’s cracked up to be. At least not initially, though I sense it can only get better from here.

Because when you’ve spent your entire life (even in some small way) blaming the past (and living there), worrying about the future (and living there), you have never…actually…ever FULLY been here now. At least not for more than a quick visit here and there.

And, now, speaking from personal experience, being here in the moment is a kind of peaceful, normal, basic, everyday experience. Which feels kind of confronting. Because when you are used to the drama and turmoil of always having a problem to solve, a goal to reach, a person to blame, or a worry about the future – and all of that vanishes – you get to inhabit YOURSELF fully, which is the most expansive, mysterious, beautiful, hi-nice-to-meet-you-I’ve-never-fully-known-you places to be.

I know I’m meant to be here. I know this is ‘all I’ve worked for.’ But now I’m feeling naked without my old identity to insulate me. There is no veil, no place to go, nothing to do. Just be.

Which, I suppose is a perfect metaphor for spring…entering the garden with nothing but your own skin, plucking flowers, dipping a toe in the river, finally feeling around for what this whole thing is really about.

Spring Musings

The light comes in, buds unfurl and all of this continues to unfold. There are moments when the veil is nearly imperceptible. The layers peel back like the waxy, thick skin of an orange disengaging from its juicy core. Neroli, Navel, Valencia jewels throw themselves at me: “We are right before you, in you, just reach for us, taste all that you are.”

I cannot stop it. I pause for a moment and consider if I have a choice. I suppose I could turn it off, turn on the TV, look normal, act busy. But this is not an option for me, I have to keep moving forward, accepting the gifts that place themselves literally right before me. Inside the pain or confusion or exhaustion of receiving this kind of Life, there is ecstasy, awe and gratitude.

A friend once said to me: “Most people look to the earth and pull a string from the soil, whereas you pull out an entire oak tree.” And she was right. The level of intensity, awareness and union is sometimes beyond my understanding and in moments it can be beautifully overwhelming.

In his poem “Everywhere” Hafiz says:

Running
Through the streets
Screaming.

Throwing rocks through windows,
Using my own head to ring
Great bells,

Pulling out my hair,
Tearing off my clothes,

Tying everything I own
To a stick,
And setting it on
Fire.

We else can Hafiz do tonight
To celebrate the madness,
The joy,

Of seeing God
Everywhere!

This pretty much sums it up, though I am not on any drug (ever), nor do I drink (ever). I do not have a guru, nor do I meet with some spiritual group. I just see and perceive and experience things – I know I’m not the only one. The synchronicities are crashing over me like waves in an endless ocean and there have been precious experiences that have only further propelled me to a place of light, beauty and Home.

Most people don’t want to go this deep, and I really understand that. And truly, it’s something that we can only give to ourselves. It’s an inside job, but I am extremely grateful for the experiences and beautiful souls that are a touchstone to my continued awakening, understanding and awareness. Thank you.

“Before and After”

I could say
That you helped me
Find God.

That in you
In me
Between us
Is the before and after
Of all of life.

That I only know you
As light
Pulsing inside an endless canyon
Electrifying the air
With citrus and jasmine
And things I barely understand
And don’t want to.

That I’m dancing
Between the good and bad
Kind of wailing.

But if I said
These things
People would think I’m weird
Or on drugs
Or that I’ve gone mental.

So I keep quiet
And try
To act normal.
{Jill Lurie}

Sometimes I think I was born in the wrong time or place. I don’t feel like I’m from here, and in spite of all the beauty and love around me, I long to know what’s just on the other side. But then I remember that everything is exactly as it’s meant to be.

It occurs to me that if I’m meant to live a life that perplexes my brain, perhaps it’s a sign to give the thinking part a rest. So I dive head first into my overflowing heart, the one that feeds a river deep within the canyon and connects me with every other living being on this earth.

Thank you.