The Medicine of Hops, the Brush Rabbit

January 31, 2013 By 8 Comments

Brush_RabbitIt was nearly a year ago when I first met Hops, the brush rabbit.

I was stuck in one of those loops, one of those endless mental loops. My mind was circling and circling and circling, constantly repeating this one scenario that ended time after time with this super intense feeling of barely repressed terror and hurt… and then the cycle would begin again.

Nothing I did would stop my mind from repeating this extremely painful pattern.

I tried breathing. I tried saying something different, changing the dialogue (in my head). I tried to notice and feel the sensations in my body. I tried to simply not care when I came to the painful part and was again flooded with pain and panic.

Nothing worked. This particular scenario was so stuck in my head that it felt impossible to shift. My mind just kept cycling and cycling and cycling. My frustration grew and grew and grew.

Then, something unexpected (and quite weird) occurred:

I was in the middle of the scenario, in a state of complete frustration with my inability to have any control over my own brain, when in pops Hops, the brush rabbit.

Now, it might be helpful here for you to know that I work with animal medicine (buffalo, raccoon, owl…) quite a bit. There is nothing I like more than having the opportunity to quietly observe wild (or even domesticated) animals and birds. It is a deeply nourishing and healing practice (medicine!) for me.

So, when Hops popped into my brain and said:

“Hey, if you can’t change how you feel at then end of this loop, why don’t you change how you react to how you feel?”

I just accepted the suggestion.

Yes, there was a rabbit in my brain. Yes, I could make up a lot of stories about what that meant or where he came from or whether or not he was real or just some other part of me showing up as a rabbit.

I didn’t question his appearance. I simply chose to listen to his advice.

Except, I didn’t really understand.

Me: “Huh?”

Hops: “You can’t change the pattern, right?”

Me: “Right.”

Hops: “Why don’t you change how you react to the pattern?”

Me: “Ok, how?”

Hops:  “Well, you could always *hop*.”

Me: “Huh. Ok…”

So, the next time the scenario looped through and I felt that overwhelming rush of terror and hurt (*after* I felt the terror and hurt that were feeding the loop), I stuttered out “Hop!”

It was kind of funny.

And, I almost forgot to do it because I was once again so caught up in the pain of the scenario. But, I remembered. And, it kind of made me giggle.

The loop began again. At the end, I again said “hop!”. And, this time I was suddenly inspired to add a couple more random words after ‘hop’: butterscotch, sandpiper, sailboat!

And with that, the Game of Hops began.

With each cycle, I would say Hop! and then add as many random, nonsensical words as I could think of in a 2-5 sec span. The loop would repeat. I would again hop! and add more random words: pumpkin pie, rainbow bright, candle light!

It started to be fun! I began to look forward to the end of the scenario (which I had so dreaded before).

And, as I continued to play in this way, everything became more and more of a game until the entire pattern shifted and there was only freedom and love in the moment that previously held so much pain.

It was amazing.

And then, the entire pattern, the entire loop, dissolved. *poof*

My brain was once again mine. My mind was still and quiet. My body felt calm and at ease.

It was then that I realized I couldn’t even remember what the scenario that had so dominated my mind had included. The pattern had shifted so completely that there was no longer even a memory of the painful incident. There was only love. And giggling.

Here, now, is the Medicine of Hops, the Brush Rabbit, as I experience it:

It is medicine that leads to the unraveling of things (issues, patterns) that no longer serve.

It is medicine of interrupting patterns that seem impossible to change. And through interrupting them, changing them. Little by little, like small hops across a yard (hop, hop, hop). Or, in one giant leap, like a rabbit escaping the bobcat by the width of a hair (of a hare?).

I have wanted to share this story for a long time.

I just haven’t known how. It is fairly convoluted (and odd) and yet it ends in simplicity.

There is only this truth. The truth that everything can change. Can transform. And that when we are truly done with a particular pattern, there is no need for it anymore, at all. Anywhere… in our heads or in our lives. It simply disappears. As if it were never there.

In fact, it disappears so completely that we even forget it ever existed.

This is the medicine of Hops. This is the medicine of the brush rabbit as I’ve experienced it.

For you, now, I offer the Song of Hops.

A couple of weeks after the experience above, I was sitting in meditation when this melody popped into my mind.

The Song of Hops

Hopeful Hopping
Hop Hop Hop

What you think is what is not
Hop Hop Hop
Hop Hop Hop

Here’s how you sing it: The Song of Hops

I find singing it to be a powerful (and very playful!) way to bring the medicine of Hops directly into my life – especially when my mind is caught up in some some loop of anxiety, worry, regret or fear. I hope it does the same for you. Hop, hop, hop… :)

Comment Magic:

Thanks for being here. I’d love to hear any stories about medicine or healing you’ve received from animals. Also, what helps you when your mind gets stuck in some unending loop?

*sending love and hopeful hopping*

8 Comments Filed Under: Nature! Nature!, Personal Stuff, Self-Care

How Lighting a Red Candle Changed My Life

December 6, 2012 By 8 Comments

Over the past years, my concept of what self-care means (for myself) has changed drastically.

This is good. This is to be expected when the basis for my work is about evolution and allowing/expecting things to change. The very fact that what self-care means has changed so much indicates to me that I am on my path.

This change has been disconcerting, however, as it has happened super swiftly.

Further, every time I think things have settled enough so that I can actually begin to write about it, everything changes again.

Today, I’m in this place of not even knowing where to begin to talk about what self-care means to me now.

Everything I’ve written about in the past (the importance of wallows, of magical listening, of comfort, of magnificent failure, of owl eyes, of relaxing, etc) still applies.

There is now just so much more. My framework has expanded (and is still expanding).

So, let’s start with a story.

It is a while back. I have only recently been introduced to the teachings and work of Malidoma Somé.

I’m skeptical. I truly, honestly, thoroughly, don’t get the whole piece about working with your ancestors, with your lineage, for healing. Growing up in an ultra-conservative religious community, I feel oddly discomforted by the entire notion.

Yet, I’m also very drawn to the aspect of his work that involves working directly with the elements of fire, water, earth, mineral, and nature for healing and transformation.

And, I love the focus on purpose, on community, on personal empowerment, and living in relationship with nature.

My (not-yet) husband and I do a water ritual at the ocean to release some of the old, stale patterns between us that were not serving our relationship. I feel so connected to the ocean and to the earth and have this sense of being truly cleansed.

My interest grows.

In which I light the red candle.

So, on a whim, I decide to see what might happen if I light a red candle for my ancestors every day while I write in my journal.

Easy, right?

Enter 10-14 days of the most intense emotional turmoil I’ve ever experienced.

I honestly thought I was going insane. I didn’t think it would end. I was convinced that I was just going to feel this insanely sensitive, easily triggered, and emotional for the rest of my life.

Oh, I was using *all* of my self-care tools.

They would help – while I was doing them. Then, I’d be off into this spiral of devastation, anxiety, fear, grief, etc.

The only thing that really seemed to help was spending time talking with my ancestors when I lit the candle – telling them how awful everything was and bawling my eyes out.

Then, I’d feel better. And then, some even deeper layer of something would open and I would once again be a wreck.

So, yes, 10 days of absolute awfulness, 10 days of being more emotionally sensitive than I’ve ever been (even at the height of hormonal intensity), 10 days of thinking I was going insane.

Finally, slowly, over the course of a week, the emotions began to abate.

I began to experience more and more moments of absolute calm and clarity. When the emotions would begin to rise again, I could take it all to my ancestor candle (now an altar), let it pass through me and within a matter of moments, be back to a place of stability.

In brief, spending time with my ancestors was the quickest, most effective self-care I’d ever experienced!

It was about that time that I began to notice something different when I went to light my candle and speak with my ancestors.

I could feel them!

I could feel their support and their love. When I was feeling afraid or sad or anxious, I could take it to them and just rest in their love. I would leave feeling nourished, calm, and centered.

Then, I noticed something else.

First, though, you need to know that the majority of my dreams have always been very dark.

…me, alone, in a dark city, being chased through alleys (or cornfields), not knowing who to trust, conspiratorial (against me) overtones… those types of dreams. Creepy, dark, very alone, terrified…

As I began to re-find my center and feel/accept the support of my lineage, my dreams changed.

People (who I innately knew I could trust) would all of a sudden pop up in my dream and whisk me to safety. Or, we would be side-by-side fighting and fleeing together, scheming up all sorts of unlikely and unbelievable ways to escape the dark forces threatening us.

It was amazing! I was no longer alone! I had support and allies even in my dreams!

I would *never* have guessed my dreams could change.

The thought had never even crossed my mind that that was a possibility. And, they continued to change over the next few months.

Today, I can’t even remember the last time I had a dark, conspiratorial dream. Now, I have different patterns showing up for me to work with; and, I have support in my dreams to work with the new things as well.

There is so much more I could tell…

…about how everything in my life is different now, about the various rituals I’ve had the opportunity to be a part of and to lead, and about how much more support, love, in-real-life community, and connection there is in my life.

However, what is most important to me right now is to start opening up a bit more about how self-care truly looks for me in this moment.

I’m starting here, now, with this story.

Comment magic:

I’ve experienced so much transformation and deepening of connection with myself and my community thanks to this nature-elemental-spirit-based path I am walking. This path works for me.

What is working for you now? Do you have a spiritual (or spirit-based) path that is a part of your self-care? Where do you turn when things are difficult?

8 Comments Filed Under: Nature! Nature!, Personal Stuff, Self-Care

The Wonder of Wandering

July 13, 2011 By 6 Comments

Yesterday was the 4th class of my Listening and Shiva Nata series. It has been even more fun than I’d anticipated. The combination of listening, working with the senses, and Shiva Nata is like a freaking wonder drug!

Anyway, yesterday we were playing with the concept of Body Radar – that innate ability of our bodies to take us exactly where we need to be, when we need to be there.

Or, as per Coyote’s Guide, Body Radar “encourages us to let go of our plans and agendas and listen to the unconscious knowledge and guidance of our body.”

To begin tuning into this particular sense, we practiced the Art of Wandering.

We tuned into our senses (our Owl Eyes, Deer Ears, etc) and then, with eyes open or closed, we slowly turned in a circle until we felt pulled in a particular direction.

And then, we wandered. If we came to an intersection, we would again pause, center deeply into our senses and yet again, allow our bodies to choose where we went.

What’s the point? Why would we want to develop an ability to wander?

Oh, I can think of a reason or two.

For instance, perhaps simply so we don’t have to think so much?

If our bodies are truly wise (which I believe is true) and do know what is best for us (which I also believe), we can cut a lot of the anxiety and worry out of our lives simply by letting our bodies lead.

Also, there’s something really powerful about being centered enough in our bodies so that we can allow them to lead.

Our bodies are always in the present moment. When we can tune into our senses and through our senses, into our Body Radar, we enter the present moment as well.

In the present moment, we have options.

If wandering, for example, we can go left. We can go right. We can turn in circles. We can fall to the ground and take a nap. We can examine and smell the flowers in front of us. We can walk backwards.

When we are truly connected in, there are no wrong choices. Wherever our bodies are, that is exactly where we want to be. And, exactly where we need to be.

What does it take to wander?

In class, we discovered that it takes 3 main things:

  1. A relaxed state of being – aided by any centering exercise available. We used Owl Eyes and Shiva Nata to get there.
  2. Tuning into our senses (listening!) to bring us more fully into our bodies. And,
  3. Trust.

Trust is the big one.

Trust that our bodies do know where they are going.

Trust that when we were blindfolded (yes, we wandered blindfolded for a bit as well) our bodies knew how to avoid the trees.

Trust that we didn’t need to see the obstacles before us in order to be safe.

And, without fail, our bodies did exactly that.

As the instructor, it was amazing to watch a student walk directly for a tree and then, just before running into it, either

  • turn to walk a different direction or
  • put their hands out, feel the tree and then spend some time getting to know that particular tree.

It very clearly showed just how connected our bodies are to our surroundings – whether we can see them or not.

And, to all of us in the class, it clearly showed just how remarkable of a tool Body Radar really is.

When might wandering be useful?

There’s a lot of directions (hee) I could take this question.

For instance, we could talk about how using Body Radar and Wandering can help us find lost objects.

Or, we could talk about all the synchronicity and coincidences that begin popping up regularly when our bodies lead.

Or, how we magically end up in the most beautiful place in the park or are at just the right place at just the right time to magically make the perfect connection for some upcoming project.

Really, the possibilities are endless.

What I want to highlight today is how useful our bodies can be in helping us make decisions.

In our journaling session at the end of class yesterday, I asked this question:

How might tuning into my body be useful when making decisions?

Here is the answer that sprang from my pen. :)

My decisions would be more grounded. They would be grounded in my body.

There would be no second guessing or doubt. No doubt about where I was going, what I needed to do and also no doubt that it would be absolutely fine if the decision changed or if I ended up somewhere completely different from where I began.

The ‘decision’ would just be a starting point. A jumping off point, not the ‘answer.’

Basically, there would be so much more space for exploration, for play, for freedom.

To end, I’d like to encourage you to play with this whole Art of Wandering thing.

Tune into your senses, turn in a circle (eyes open or closed) and allow your body to be pulled wherever it may want to go.

Or, grab a blindfold and a partner (the partner to tap you on the shoulder just in case your Body Radar isn’t yet as finely tuned as it may someday be), tune into your senses and start wandering.

You may end up in unexpected places, having unexpected experiences.

And, you just might find yourself delighted by how this simple exercise can open up new possibilities in other areas of your life.

Comment Magic:

Today, I’d love to hear your experiences with Wandering.

Or, perhaps tales of times when you have magically been in exactly the right place at the right time.

Another option: exercises you  use to get you to that calm, centered place where you can hear your body loud enough to wander. Of course, just saying ‘hi’ is always appreciated. :)

 

6 Comments Filed Under: Listening to Our Bodies, Nature! Nature!, Shiva Nata

The Importance of a Really Good Wallow

May 10, 2011 By 11 Comments

I’ve noticed a theme with a few of my clients lately – a theme of being afraid to really feel whatever is going on for them.

The actual feelings and the situations that are bringing them up are widely varied.

The commonality lies in the fear that if they truly feel the feelings, they will be overwhelmed by them, swept away by them, and end up wallowing in them for endless days.

The wallowing piece has got me thinking about bison.

Specifically, how bison create huge wallows – large indentations in the earth where they roll and cavort on their backs in the dust.

The purpose of wallowing for the bison is to build up a layer of dust (or mud) to protect against insects.

*photo courtesy of H. Schuster

Bison don’t *stay* in the wallow, however.

They wallow. Then they leave and go on with their lives. And then, when the dust wears off and the insects are once again biting, they return to wallow again.

The purpose of wallowing for us humans.

For us humans, the wallow allows us to release the emotions that build up and keep us from being fully present.

When our emotions are fully felt, we no longer have to keep a part of ourselves walled off. But…

…wallowing is hard.

Especially in a culture where the very word ‘wallow’ is associated with self-pity and self-indulgence.

And yet, within the word itself is hidden another word:

Allow.

That’s what it is really all about, giving ourselves permission to feel whatever it is that we are feeling. Allowing those feelings to come through.

It’s very normal and natural to be afraid of wallowing.

To be afraid that if you allow some of the emotions to come through, they will:

  1. all come through at once and overwhelm you, or
  2. get stuck and there you’ll be, wallowing, forever.

With emotions that run particularly deep and that are particularly painful, it’s understandable to not want to go there.

If you don’t go there, however, the emotions come out indirectly anyway – through irritability, pain, fatigue, constantly feeling stressed, etc.

That’s why it is important to have a wallow to wallow in.

Not just any wallow. Your wallow. A place that feels safe where you can let your emotions flow.

You come and go. It stays. It is there for you… when you need it.

When you need it, it holds you.

Creating your own wallow.

The bison don’t just stumble upon a pre-created indentation in the ground. No. They dig it out with their hooves. And then, they wallow.

We can do that too. We can create a safe, private place where we can go when we feel the insects of difficult emotions biting at us.

Perhaps it’s just closing the door to the bedroom. Perhaps it’s having a favorite tree or plant to talk too. Maybe it’s watching that one movie that always brings us to tears.

We too can wallow.

Once we are done, we too, like the bison, can leave the wallow and return to our daily lives knowing that when we need it again, when difficult emotions are again biting, we can return. And wallow once more.

Comment Magic:

I strongly endorse the use of wallows. I have a wallow I go to nearly every day – for maintenance, if you will. :)

Visiting it regularly keeps the difficult emotions from building up to the point where they begin to wreck havoc on my daily life. When I leave, I feel cleansed, more fully myself, and better equipped to face the rest of my day. It feels, somehow, both protective and preventative to me.

What about you? Do you have a wallow? If not, how might having a place to go to when you feel difficult emotions eating at you be useful? If you do, what form does yours take? :)

11 Comments Filed Under: Listening to Our Bodies, Nature! Nature!, Self-Care

A Most Fascinating Question

April 27, 2011 By 11 Comments

A friend recently stumped me with what is possibly the most fascinating question in the world:

“What captivated you when you were 9? What was it that you spent every spare minute of your unstructured time doing?”

The concept behind the question is that that thing we did with our free time when we were approximately 9 has a lot to tell us about our life purpose. So, let’s jump in, shall we?

When I was 9 I:

  • Read constantly. There was a period of time when my mother limited me to reading two books a day. I stretched that limit through starting one book the night before, finishing it plus a second and reading most of a third the next day. Insane.
  • When I wasn’t reading, I was outside, running around the farm, creating imaginary worlds and embarking on incredibly detailed and magical adventures with my brother.

In short, I was either inside reading about the adventures of others or I was outside, creating my own.

My grandfather’s ranch:

My mother’s parents lived about a 4-hour drive from us, down in Oklahoma. We would visit several times a year – events that were always greatly anticipated.

My grandparents lived in Paradise – a cattle ranch with acres and acres of open pasture complete with a creek running directly through the middle of it.

The creek was small by normal creek standards and yet it had cut its way deep into the earth forming a mini canyon. Likely only 20 or so feet deep, to my 8 or 9 year old eyes, this canyon was vast and infinitely exciting. And the creek itself  – oh my! The adventures that awaited!

We spent entire days out just roaming about – being explorers of the vast unknown.

Every day led to new delights, new adventures, and new territories to explore.

One year, much to our delight, we discovered a tree that had fallen across the creek and, for the first time ever, we were able to cross the rushing water and begin to explore the uncharted territories of the other side. The excitement! It could not be contained.

Of course, there were hazards to be aware of…

…snakes lurking behind the occasional fallen tree limb, deep gopher holes that could easily twist or break an ankle, the creek itself and, of course, the bulls.

None of that deterred us in any way. We had roles to play, adventures awaiting, new land to explore.

Only hunger would eventually pull us away from our explorations and back to the Land of the Adults.

Looking back, I can see how much I learned from those adventures.

How much those moment have influenced my life now.

Then, we were fully engaged in the moment, always venturing just a little further into the unknown. Stretching our boundaries, exploring our limitations. And yet, we had support. We knew our parents weren’t that far away.

Plus, we had each other. We were each others’ best Allies.

What did we learn?

We learned to:

  • take calculated risks: for instance, timing our crossing of the bull pen – scary!
  • know where we were in relation to grandpa’s house at all times;
  • support each other. There was this complete, though unstated, understanding that we had each others’ back if anything bad happened.
  • be a part of a team and collaborate/plan our route together.
  • engage and trust our senses – our eyes, our ears, our felt-sense (I recall several times when we changed direction simply because the direction we were going had a ‘bad’ feel).
  • be in the moment. We never embarked on our mission with some outcome in mind. We just couldn’t wait to get out there so we could discover what was out there.

Basically, we learned some pretty impressive life skills.

Of course, back then, we didn’t think of it as learning life-skills – we were just kids out in my grandpa’s pasture, which happened to have this amazing creek running through it, exploring the day away.

Looking back, I feel this sense of nostalgia.

I felt so alive and engaged as we explored the creek and surrounding pasture-land.

I long for that sense of engagement, of curiosity, of risk-taking, of being outside for hours/days at a time!, to be more present now, in my daily life.

I can see how these experiences have so much to offer me now.

That sense of adventure, of exploration, is something that I consistently bring into my work with clients.

And, this sense of adventure, of fully engaging with my surroundings, is something I’m slowly re-discovering more and more in my personal life as well.

Comment Magic:

What were your passions when you were 9? Was there some thing or activity that you turned to the moment you had a moment free from your parents and other obligations? If so, do tell!

Portlanders! A new 4-week Shiva Nata series is beginning on May 10th. We will be using Shiva Nata to help us get out of our heads and into our senses. I’m super excited about this series as it combines two of my favorites things: Senses and Shiva Nata. Check it out here.

11 Comments Filed Under: Nature! Nature!, Revealing More, Concealing Less

Setting Seasonal Intents

March 22, 2011 By 6 Comments

It’s that time again – the time of year when light and dark are balanced – for a moment at least.

For me this means it is time to review my past Seasonal (90-Day) Intents and set new ones for the next season – Spring!

It’s kind of a 90-Day To-Do list – except that once it’s written, I don’t look at it again. Until the next turn of season, that is.

It’s a practice of mindfully writing out things that I would like to accomplish, qualities I’d like to play with, and my commitments to self-care for the next 90 days.

Today is the day to review past Intents and to set new Intents.

I’m going to share my process here. Want to play with me?

First, decide if you want to follow this process for your business/work life or for your personal life (or both).

Note: I tend to set separate Intents for both business and personal. In truth, they often mirror each other since my personal life and my work-life are so intertwined.

Now, quickly brainstorm as many things you’d like to accomplish project-wise (tangible stuff) over the next 90 days.

Here are a few of mine: Business

  • Re-Launch my Owl Eyes E-Course – with more options and a lot more Owl Eyes goodness.
  • Teach a 1-Day Sensing (and Play) workshop at Oxbow Park.
  • Take at least one Shiva-Nata Class from a new instructor.

Personal

  • Re-start my 15-mile/week walking plan.
  • Plan something really fun for my boyfriend’s birthday.
  • 2-3 movement classes per week (xinyi, yoga, pilates…)

Alright, that’s the tangible stuff.

Ok, let’s move on to the qualities we want more of over the next 90 Days.

Throughout Spring, I want to be noticing and interacting with the qualities of:

  • ease, play, sweetness, and courage (in my personal life).
  • Also: abundance, gratitude, trust and discernment (in my business life).

What about you?

Next, the commitments:

These are the practices and mindsets I’m committing to in order to support the projects and qualities I want to see more of this Spring:

  • to focus on my own process and self-care (vs getting caught up in the drama and processes of other’s which continues, at times, to be the hardest thing in the world).
  • a daily practice of invoking the qualities and guidance that will support me throughout my day.
  • to ask for help daily combined with the discerning surrender of things outside my control or expertise to those who are better equipped. Also: expressing gratitude more for all the support and love that is present in my life.
  • to be open to and notice new possibilities and opportunities.
  • a willingness to be surprised and to let go of expectations. Yikes!
  • spending at least a part of one day a week outside, preferably outside the city.

The final step: hiding it away until the next turn of season, in this case, the Summer Solstice.

Seriously. I don’t look at my list of Intents again until the full 90 days is up.

When the next turn of season arrives, I do review my previous Intents.

It’s generally quite fascinating because I’ve usually totally forgotten what I’d set as Intents 90 days previously.

And, it’s even more fascinating to note how many of the my Intents were actually realized (or, no longer seem important).

This practice is a way of marking time and checking in with myself.

This is where I was 90 days ago. This is what I thought I wanted.

Where am I now? Have things changed? How have they changed?

Did any of these things happen? If so, great. If not, do I want to add them to the next 90 day Intents or are they no longer aligned with my life?

Reviewing my Intents is not at all about beating myself up if something didn’t happen like I thought it should.

Rather, it’s a practice of noting what did happen and checking in to see if the things that didn’t are still important enough to add to the next 90 days.

In short, when I’m reviewing the Intents from the past 90 days, I quickly jot down notes next to each item. It’s as simple as ‘yep,’ ‘nope,’ or ‘this is what happened instead.’

And, it’s totally fascinating to see how some things that didn’t happen as I thought they should actually did happen in a more awesome way than I could ever have imagined.

The super-secret addition to my Spring Intents:

Last time I spoke about wanting to learn to Fail Magnificently. This Spring, I’m adding that to my commitments.

I’ve added a couple of secret (not written here) Intents for myself that feel waaaay beyond my present abilities… just to see what happens.

I want to find out what the process of approaching things from a perspective of failing magnificently brings up in me.

It might be an interesting 90 Days. :)

Comment Magic:

How do you mark time? Do you have a seasonal (or monthly perhaps) ritual to check in with yourself and to make notes of what you’d like to see in your life? If so, I’d love to hear about it.

Or, if you did this process with me, what was your experience?

As always, just saying Hi is adored as well.

6 Comments Filed Under: Nature! Nature!, Self-Care

The Rock of Enoughness

January 11, 2011 By 6 Comments

The third week of December found me feeling completely overwhelmed and out of sorts.

I had a list (of doom) to complete before taking off for the holidays. So many things on that list were important to me and required huge chunks of my time.

I was in one of those places – those places where the overwhelm is so overwhelming that I could no longer discern what was truly important. Everything seemed equally important and equally impossible to finish.

My morning self-care ritual.

On the 16th of December, I took all this overwhelm and lack of clarity into my morning self-care ritual – where I spend some time sorting through what is going on in my life, asking for support, and invoking the qualities I would like my day to have.

Part of this ritual involves me saying things out loud.

Saying out loud and naming the things I’m struggling with and asking verbally for help and guidance.

This is a new practice for me. One that I’m finding to be very powerful for me right now.

I tend to frequently say things in my head or to write them in my journal – it’s a new and challenging thing to verbalize what I’m feeling and to ask for help out loud.

Of course, I am alone. It’s my time and space to practice honestly and openly speaking about what I’m going through. It’s practice for the real world and for my commitments to a) revealing more and b) asking for help.

That morning I was talking about how stressed and anxious I felt and mentioning the different qualities I’d like to have infused into the next few days – things like flow and surrender and ease. And enoughness.

Then, when I was sitting there quietly, just listening, this realization struck:

It’s all about there not being enough.

Not enough time.
Not enough money.
Not enough space.
My gifts surely wouldn’t be good enough.

It’s about me not being good enough.
Me not being enough.

Hello, pattern. I recognize you.

You’ve been here so many times it’s like… well, it’s like you are just a part of me.

In fact, you are so ingrained I feel you as part of my very structure. In my skeleton. In my bones.

That’s when something clicked into place.

I remembered the importance of the elements to many indigenous cultures. I recalled how it is the mineral element that forms the bones of the earth (the molten core and the rocks of the crust) just like it is minerals that form the bones of my body.

Interlude:

There is a part of me that knows that I am enough.

It’s just, so often, is it so easy for me to get overwhelmed and to forget that and to fall back into old, painful patterns of scarcity and not-enoughness.

I wanted something concrete to remind me of my enoughness. Something to remind me that I don’t have to be perfect.

That whatever I do finish is enough. That I am enough.

An image floated into my mind.

An image of a small rock. Comprised of, of course, minerals.

How perfect! A rock to remind of that I am enough – to help me find that sense of enoughness deep within me – in my structure, in the bones of my body.

And then, Oh! Impending doom!

I envisioned driving to the mountain on a quest to find the small rock that would remind me of my enoughness.

There wasn’t time for that! How possibly could that fit into my already packed schedule?

And then, another click. (Click)

This whole pattern is about enoughness.

I looked down. There, in my hands, was a small rock I’d picked up the previous summer while backpacking Steen’s Mountain. A small, rugged rock with lines of contrasting minerals etched deep into it.

Could it really be this simple?

The answer: It is enough.

And it was.

I carried that rock with me throughout the remainder of the holidays.

Whenever I felt overwhelmed, whenever that pattern of not-enoughness threatened me, I would feel it in my pocket.

I would take a moment and breath deep into my body, into my bones, and the world, somehow, would right itself. The overwhelm would pass and I would be able to walk on, unscathed and whole.

For you:

Enoughness (and lack thereof) are ongoing themes for me. This is one small, external way I’ve found to remind myself (internally) that I am enough.

What about you? Do you have a symbol or an object or something that brings you back to your center, to your enoughness? If so I’d love to hear about it.

Of course, just saying hello is always appreciated also. :)

6 Comments Filed Under: Nature! Nature!, Revealing More, Concealing Less

Using Your Senses to Relax Your Body

September 28, 2010 By 8 Comments

I went to bed tense and grouchy the other night. Lying there, I could feel tension radiating throughout my body. My legs felt stiff and achy, my breathing constricted, my thoughts racing.

Knowing I needed to get a good night’s rest, I started going through my list of relaxation techniques, discarding each nearly as quickly as it came to mind. Tense and relax the different parts of my body? Not working. Focusing on my breath? Nope. And on and on.

Eventually I gave up and resigned myself to a sleepless night.

I decided that as long as I wasn’t sleeping, I might as well practice some of my naturalist skills.

Specifically, I decided to tune into my sense of hearing and name as many sounds as I could hear.

The quiet hum of the highway, a breeze stirring the leaves of the tree outside my open window, the steady beat of my heart…

Less than 5 minutes later, it occurred to me that my body was absolutely relaxed, my mind was calm and I was on the verge of sleep. Miracle!

Now, I *know* that engaging the senses relaxes the nervous system and thus the body.

That’s the basic premise behind Owl Eyes, after all.

Apparently, I needed a reminder. Perhaps you could use one as well?

If so, here’s a quick process to help you engage your senses and relax your body. Give yourself about 5 minutes to go through this next part. Having pen and paper handy is helpful as well. Here we go!

Sense 1: Sight.

As humans, most of us are very visually dominant. Therefore, we tend to spend a lot of time with our eyes in tunnel vision, looking at something, watching something (or someone), etc.

Glance around the room (or wherever you are) and jot down 5 things you see. Try to make them things you don’t normally notice in your surroundings.

My five things:

  1. A pair of my boyfriend’s socks, inside out and crumpled.
  2. A yellow highlighter
  3. The beautiful pillows a friend made for me.
  4. A calculator sitting on top of the computer tower.
  5. A solitary tack stuck in the wall (that’s not tacking anything). Whaa?

Now relax into your Owl Eyes (or wide-angle vision) as you engage the rest of your senses.

Sense 2: Hearing. Deer Ears!

With your gaze soft, engage your sense of hearing. If helpful, imagine your ears are like huge a deer’s. You can even cup your hands around your ears to exaggerate your sense of hearing.

What do you hear? See if you can name 3-5 sounds.

Me? I can hear the buzz of the refrigerator, traffic from the highway, a door creaking open and then slamming shut.

With hearing, it is important to remember to allow the sounds to come to you. There is no need to strain or to try to hear more. Just sit quietly and receive the sounds.

Sense 3: Smell. Bear Nose!

Bears have an amazing sense of smell. Polar bears, for example, can smell a whale carcass up to 20 miles away.

In humans, smell is often an underdeveloped sense. We can, however, improve it with practice. For now, see if you can name 1-3 scents in your immediate environment.

Right now, I can smell the mint in my tea and not much else. :(

Sense 4: Touch.

Or, as the Kamana Naturalist Training Program describes it: skin of a baby.

Imagine your skin is as soft and sensitive as a baby’s. What do you notice? How does the air feel? Is the room cool or warm? How much moisture can you feel in the air? Can you feel your clothing resting against your skin? Describe their texture.

If outside, is there a breeze? Can you feel the sun? Where is it? And so on…

Sense 5: Taste.

Ah. Another often overlooked sense. What taste is in your mouth right now?

Open your mouth and breath in some air. Is there a flavor to the air?

The next time you eat or drink something, take a moment and really notice the flavors and how they interact.

Bringing it all together. The wolf.

The wolf symbolizes this coming together of all the senses. Their eyes, ears and noses are equally utilized and equally developed.

Imagine if our sense of hearing and our sense of smell was as highly developed and utilized as our sense of sight!

That’s the power of the wolf and the power we develop as we play with consciously engaging more of our senses.

For now, sitting quietly, see how many of your senses you can engage and notice at the same time.

Perhaps it will only be one or two at first. That’s ok. Start with Owl Eyes or Deer Ears and add in your other senses over time.

Engaging our senses is the key to relaxation.

While it can be fun to just play with engaging our senses, there is also a very practical reason to make it a part of your daily life.

When we engage our senses, we are brought into the present moment.

Sounds, for instance, only happen in the present moment. We hear a sound. And then it is gone. Another sound emerges. And then disappears.

When we are listening, when our sense of hearing is fully engaged, it is impossible for us to be other than in the present moment. Add in more of the senses and this present-moment-ness increases.

For me, lying there, sleepless and tense…

My mind frantically racing, following some worry about the future or reliving something from the past, engaging my sense of hearing and naming the sounds brought me back to the present moment.

Back to where, in the moment, I was safe. Where there was nothing to do or to fix or to control.

In the present moment there was a comfortable bed beneath me, my boyfriend sleeping beside me and soft night sounds soothing me. In the present moment, all was well.

In the present moment, I fully relaxed and drifted off to sleep.

Comment Magic:

Comments, thoughts, stories? I love them! Just saying hello is lovely too.

8 Comments Filed Under: Listening to Our Bodies, Nature! Nature!, Right Relationship, Self-Care

Raccoons, Relaxation, and the Absolute Rightness of Being YOU

August 24, 2010 By 5 Comments

It’s very, very early morning. That gray, pre-dawn time as the world begins to brighten. The sun has not yet popped up over the horizon but it is obviously on its way.

I’m all snuggled up in bed, warm and cozy. Then, abruptly, all hell breaks loose.

Our backyard scrub jays begin shrieking. And shrieking and shrieking. In fact, it sounds as if they have invited all their neighborhood friends into the walnut tree directly outside my bedroom window. To shriek.

The ruckus, it was enormous.

Too sleepy to drag my protesting body out of bed to see just what the commotion was all about, I just listened until, about 10-15 minutes later, all became quiet once more.

I tumble back into sleep. Morning fully arrives, I get up and eventually I recall the ruckus and decide to investigate.

I have a good idea what I will find and indeed, curled up in a hollow of the walnut tree, a good 20 feet off the ground, is a pile of gray fluff. A raccoon!

Now, whatever you happen to think of raccoons is fine.

I happen to adore them. Actually, I happen to adore any undomesticated animal and a lot of domesticated ones as well.

Anyway, I felt so indescribably happy standing there on the roof peering up into the hollow.

Graced with the presence of urban wildlife – young urban wildlife at that. This particular raccoon was not even half grown – likely born just this past spring.

He (she?) shifted and suddenly, up briefly popped a second head. There were two!

Oh! The happiness! It compounded.

They shifted around a bit more, eyes half closed. Eventually one of them settled back into sleep with his head cradled on the edge of the hollow.

As I watched, he sank deeper into sleep. As his body became more and more relaxed, his head slid along the edge of the hollow until his neck and head were basically dangling outside the hollow.

Oblivious, he slept on.

Learn to relax like a raccoon.

I sent my dad this picture and he texted back: “New goal… learn to relax like a raccoon.”

What can a raccoon teach us about relaxing and about being ourselves?

Last summer I watched a fully-grown raccoon returning to our neighbors giant Doug Fir. The jays shrieked and dove. The raccoon, completely oblivious, continued along its raccoon path and eventually curled up somewhere in the deep recesses of the fir.

The raccoon was completely unperturbed by the rants and attacks of the jays.

*SIDENOTE: of course, the jays are attacking because raccoons are predators and do raid their nests. However, the times I’m referring to here are times when the raccoon is returning from her nightly forage to sleep, no longer in hunting mode.

Just an afternoon prior to the morning initially described, the jays had suddenly started shrieking and I went to investigate. A raccoon was nestled in the same hollow. He was awake but absolutely relaxed and ambivalent to the jays screaming above him.

He was just a raccoon doing his raccoon thing.

Which got me to thinking…

The more I am me, doing the things that are meaningful to me and living my life as closely aligned with the qualities (love, kindness, compassion…) I treasure, the less the attacks of others will affect me.

In fact, it’s likely I won’t even perceive the unkind words or actions of others (or the world in general) as a threat at all. It is just them being them. I am just me, being me.

Nature is an inescapable model for being yourself.

Nature simply can’t be other than it is. In truth, we can’t be other than we are either.

Most of us do, however, spend a ridiculous amount of energy attempting to be (or to appear) other than we are.

While the reasons for this are many and varied, the more time we spend observing nature (especially while in Owl Eyes), the more these reasons fall away.

Spending even just a couple of minutes watching a bird, a squirrel, a deer (or a beloved pet) brings us back to ourselves. That animal simply can’t be other than it is. On some level, whether consciously or not, we are reminded that we also can’t be other than we are.

This state of *being* calls out to the deepest parts of ourselves.

That part of you that simply is you. That part of me that is unshakably me.

We are reminded that we are enough, that we belong, just as we are.

Knowing these truths, we can let go of our guarding and tension. We can relax… just like the raccoon.

5 Comments Filed Under: Listening to Our Bodies, Nature! Nature!, Right Relationship