Over-Wintering

I should have known something was up last year when I suddenly decided to reread Mists of Avalon by Marion Zimmer Bradley, followed by the traditional The Stand by Stephen King. A strange combo, I know, but I read them together when I was 18, and then at 30, when I reread Mists, I felt I had to reread The Stand as well. So, at 36, they both got reread together...again.

I have taken something different away from each of the readings as I grow up and (especially in the case of Mists) move through the phases of my life from "maiden," to new mother, to a woman done having kids and watching in satisfaction (and occasional trepidation) as they grow up.

Now it's The Lord of the Rings Trilogy. I reread that every couple of years, too. I'm slowly working my way through The Return of the King for the 4th time (I last finished that book on September 10th, 2001 - and I wonder why that series has become a bit of a momento mori for me. Hmmm...)

Life always gives me hints, even if I don't always pick up on them right away. Rereading all these pivotal classics is a hint I've only just picked up on. Articulating what that hint is about is not so easy, but it's closely related to why I haven't been blogging very much lately - I am on an internal hiatus.

Yup. Something is coming and in the meanwhile, I have platformed. I'm in a holding pattern. I wrote about it at Jennifer Louden's newest project, the Comfort Cafe. Here's what I came up with:

"My intention for the month of February is to listen for hints of Spring - my Spring.

We've just had "mid-winter thaw" here in New York - our annual warming that occurs in February, usually right after the freezing cold temperatures that inevitably eclipse my actual birthday (the 5th.) I spent the day in nature on Wednesday and found a lovely hollow where the trees are falling in and everything was quiet and resting. It was just what I needed.

Lately I have been coming to accept that I don't want to do very much these days. It’s not depression; I've been there and know that feeling well. This ain't it. I just don't really want to work or talk to people. I've very happy with my solitude and my naps and my reading and the occasional load of laundry thrown in (along with childcare for the 10 year old and the 6 and a half year old!)



I feel the pressure of a Type A world and Tony Robbins/The Secret type friends who push the idea that if you don't have your intentions in high focus you'll never be a success (OK oversimplifying a generally OK idea set but I hope you'll understand why.) I'm in between focuses and dreams. A lot came true over the last two years and now I just gotta BE and sort out which dreams come true are worth keeping and which ones need a bit of tweaking.
I'm over-wintering, like the trees in the gulley where I was. Eventually Spring will come again but for now its nice to be tree-like and stay on the lookout for signs of Spring while doing nothing much."



I am in between.

LOTR will be finished soon. I've been getting out to Caumsett (my sacred place) more often. I've begun learning my new camera's ins and outs (as evidenced by the self portraits above! So cool!). Story-Beads is hanging in there. Maybe soon Spring will come and I'll know where I'm supposed to be going. And maybe I'll just go take a nap and wait it out until then.

What have your emotional winters looked like and how have you over-wintered without struggling against them?

Story-Beads in Abundance

An abundance of Story-Beads!! Havi Brooks and her duck amiga Selma over at Fluent Self have commisioned a signature set of Story-Beads to launch her latest venture. This is what 80 sets of Story-Beads looks like just before blessing and packaging and shipping.

I wish everyone could reach through the "internets" and grab a handful because they feel...substancial and heavy and smooth and good.


Helper mouse and the DeStuckification duck are itching to head out and start their new life with all of Havi's clients. I'm just psyched to be touching the lives of what are sure to be a bunch of very cool people.

Do you own a business (or know someone who has a business) that would be a good match for a signature set of Story-Beads - a set not like any other in the world that reflects what's important to you and your clients, using symbols and beads that tell your story? Drop me a line... I'm sure Havi and Selma would attest to how much fun designing the sets are - and as for using them, I'll keep everyone up to date on their furthering story.

Who doesn't love a bit of a shameless plug?

A New Archetype

the-MATRIX--Wallpaper, originally uploaded by brandonj74.

Is it just me or do other people see the emergence of a new archetype - black men as the wise mentor. You know, the guy in the know, the one who has not only intelligence but actual life experience, not to mention a very cool look.

Just look at recent movies: The Matrix, for one. Morpheus is the guy in the know, the one who finds Neo and saves them all by helping "The One" realize himself. In Star Wars Samuel L. Jackson played a similar role. Not your genre? How about Bruce Almighty and Evan Almighty? Morgan Freeman can be my God any day of the week; I adore him in the character!

Yesterday, we swore in President Barack Obama! (Yay!!) Maybe I'm stretching the point but looking for possible connections and themes is a huge part of story-telling. Movies and politics inform the larger story of who we are and who we see ourselves as being as Americans. As a viewer, I trusted myself in Morpheus' hands and took guidance and comfort from Morgan Freeman's God. In real life, I feel that way about Obama.

I think archetypes are cool. I'm just sayin'...

What have you done today to take part in your democracy?

Hint: my daughter's business is in trouble and you could help out by signing this petition to fine tune a bill that threatens many small businesses and toymakers!

Christmas Tree Tales

Today the tree comes down and the ornaments get stowed away, not to be seen again until next Christmas, like old friends you only see once a year. From the chaos of that one box of ornaments comes a lifetime of stories, each one a reminder of a certain year, a certain time, a certain person.

I put away the one armed soldier into the box next to the little sheppardess and I am suddenly in the 4th grade again, reliving the story that grew around these two ornaments being in love. They will always be in love because of the intensity of that 4th grade girl and her story.

The lighthouse was supposed to be a gift to my father, the last one I bought him before he went into the home. He loved lighthouses. Now "his lighthouse" hangs on my tree, reminding me of how much he loved Christmas in spite of his grumpy complaints about longing for peace and quiet.

Every handmade ornament from my mother (one from every year of growing up and then some,) every yearly ornament to my little ones is another story. From Lima Bean's telephone from his early years of cell phone obsession or Morgan's first (and most expensive ornament) made from her very first sneaker - after she kicked the other one off somewhere in Sears, never to be seen again, only three days after getting them. Each ornament comes out and each story is told, sometimes out loud and sometimes only in my heart.

What objects hold your stories safe?

Returning Practices

May I introduce you to Slushy the Snowman, a joint effort between my daughter and I while waiting for her bus. Three guesses what kind of weather we've been having here in Centerport, NY.

This is how I've been spending my time of late, making miniature snowmen and loving my kids - not a bad way to spend one's time, I think.

But still, I miss the blog. Not just that nagging guilty kind of missing that says I should be doing it but the more genuine feeling that I'd like to jump back into it and reacquaint myself with that community.

One of the things I look for in the spiritual practices that I choose for myself is the ability to go back to them easily after an absence. For instance, I hadn't picked up my Story-Beads in weeks but after working a craft fair a few weekends ago I am working with them again.

It's the same with journaling. There are times when I won't write "Dear Diary" for weeks at a time (and yes, I do actually write "dear diary" at the start of each entry - I do so many types of writing these days that starting with that silly little phrase let's me know what kind of writing I'm doing at that particular session.) Coming back to the page can feel stunted when I start up but soon enough I'm back in the flow of it.

Slushy and I are hoping that blogging is one of those practices and that getting back to those communities and finding some more will be just as easy as picking up my Story-Beads or jumping back onto the page.

For now, I've got some web surfing to do and some old virtual friends to check in on and see what they've been up to. Care to come along? There's a wonderful list of blogs full of wonderful individuals just to the left of Slushy that are just waiting for visitors! Enjoy!

What spiritual practice have you let slide and could you simply pick it up again?

September 11th again

flower in the reflecting pool site 9 11 01, originally uploaded by cmarina28.

Miss M brought home a reminder about the blood drive at her school next week. I mentioned that I really should try to donate (assuming my iron was high enough.) She and her brother, nervous about needles, were incredulous.

I explained to them that it was my duy to try to donate. I am physically capable of it and emotionally predisposed (meaning it doesn't freak me out to do it) so it's my responsibility, as a member of the Long Island community and sometimes the wider US community to donate blood.

I don't know if they understood but maybe I planted a seed.

When they got on the bus I came in and turned on coverage of the September 11th commemoratives going on less than 50 miles from my home. I feel it's my duty to hold the space for those who remember each year and renew their grief as the anniversary of their loved ones death comes around.

I am physically capable of it and emotionally predisposed (meaning it doesn't stress me out excessively) so I am duty-bound, as a member of my community, to bear witness.

Today I offer this blessing from John O'Donohue:

When you lose someone you love,
Your life becomes strange,
The ground beneath you gets fragile,
Your thoughts make your eyes unsure;
And some dead echo drags your voice down
Where words have no confidence.

Your heart has grown heavy with loss;
And though this loss has wounded others too,
No one know s what has been taken from you
When the silence of absence deepens.

Flickers of guilt kindle regret
For all that was left unsaid or undone.

There are days when you wake happy,
Again inside the fullness of life,
Until the moment breaks
And you are thrown back
Onto the black tide of loss.

Days when you have your heart back
You are able to function well
Until, in the middle of work or encounter,
Suddenly with no warning,
You are ambushed by grief.

It becomes hard to trust yourself.
All you can depend on now is that
Sorrow will remain faithful to itself.
More that you, it knows its way,
And will find the right time
To pull and pull the rope of grief
Until that coiled hill of tears
Has reduced itself to its last drop.

Gradually you will learn acquaintance
With the invisible form of your departed;
And when the work of grief is done,
The wound of loss will heal
And you will have learned
To wean your eyes
From the gap in the air
And be able to enter the hearth
In your soul where your loved one
Has awaited your return
All the time.

How do you comfort the grieving? How do you remember?

Red and Blue

Barack Obama: A mosaic of people, originally uploaded by tsevis.

I just finished watching Barack Obama's speech at the Democratic National Convention. WOW.

I used to joke with West Wing watching friends of mine that Jeb Bartlet was my president. It helped to ease the sting of the Bush years.

I don't want Jeb Bartlet anymore. I want Barack Obama to be my president.

But in the spirit of that character who should have been my president and in honor of the man who gave an extraordinary speech tonight, I offer up my favorite scene from the West Wing:

"The scene, a real showstopper, finds the president stopping in on a White House gathering of radio talk personalities. As Bartlet struggles though a speech extolling the gabbers’ contributions to the airwaves, Bartlet is distracted by the sight of a "holy roller" style radio psychologist seated nearby.

BARTLET: It’s a good idea to be reminded of the awesome impact, the awesome impact… I’m sorry. You’re Dr. Jenna Jacobs, right?

JACOBS (obviously pleased to be recognized): Yes, sir!

BARTLET: It’s good to have you here.

JACOBS: Thank you!

BARTLET: … the awesome impact of the airwaves, and how that translates into the furthering of our national discussions, but obviously also how it can … how it can … Forgive me, Dr. Jacobs. Are you an M.D.?

JACOBS: A Ph.D.

BARTLET: A Ph.D.

JACOBS: Yes, sir.

BARTLET: In psychology?

JACOBS: No, sir.

BARTLET: Theology?

JACOBS: No.

BARTLET: Social work?

JACOBS: I have a Ph.D. in English Literature.

BARTLET: I’m asking ‘cause on your show people call in for advice – and you go by the name Dr. Jacobs on your show – and I didn’t know if maybe your listeners were confused by that and assumed you had advanced training in psychology, theology or health care.

JACOBS: I don’t believe they are confused, no, sir.

BARTLET: I like your show. I like how you call homosexuality an “abomination!”

JACOBS: I don’t say homosexuality is an abomination, Mr. President. The Bible does.

BARTLET: Yes it does. Leviticus!

JACOBS: 18:22.

BARTLET: Chapter and verse. I wanted to ask you a couple of questions while I had you here. I wanted to sell my youngest daughter into slavery, as sanctioned in Exodus 21:7. She’s a Georgetown Sophomore, speaks fluent Italian, always cleared the table when it was her turn. What would a good price for her be?

(Bartlet only waits a second for a response, then plunges on.)

BARTLET: While thinking about that, can I ask another? My chief of staff, Leo McGary, insists on working on the Sabbath. Exodus 35:2 clearly says he should be put to death. Am I morally obligated to kill him myself? Or is it okay to call the police?

(Bartlet barely pauses to take a breath.)

BARTLET: Here’s one that’s really important, because we’ve got a lot of sports fans in this town. Touching the skin of a dead pig makes one unclean. Leviticus 11:7. If they promise to wear gloves, can the Washington Redskins still play football? Can Notre Dame? Can West Point? Does the whole town really have to be together to stone my brother John for planting different crops side by side? Can I burn my mother in a small family gathering for wearing garments made from two different threads? Think about those questions, would you?

(The camera pushes in on the president.)

One last thing. While you may be mistaking this for your monthly meeting of the Ignorant Tight-Ass Club, in this building when the president stands, nobody sits.

(Jacobs sees that, in fact, the president is standing and she is the only one in the room sitting. After a moment, she rises, holding her tiny plate of appetizers. After the president exits, Sam Seaborn sternly approaches a thoroughly belittled Jacobs.)

SAM: I’m just … going to take that crab puff.

(Sam snatches Dr. Jacob’s crab puff, then hurries after the president.)"

Who inspires you?

(and while we're at it, what is a good asking price for good kids 'cuz I've got two of 'em might just be up for grabs if, you know, the price is right...)