It 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*

Note: the following story spent quite some time as my homepage. It now has a new home… here! Enjoy. :)

There once was a creative, kooky, brilliant mind stuck in a floating head. The mind was filled with ideas, plans, and wise, loving thoughts.

Unfortunately, without a body, it had no way to implement or to bring into life all of its genius ideas. It thought it wanted to be of service and to help the world in some way but it just kept spinning and spinning, generating genius plan after genius plan.

Not far away, actually just below the head, there was a body.

A beautiful, strong body. A body perfectly able, ready and willing to bring into form all the brilliant ideas of the mind.

It was also a frustrated body.

It was frustrated because the head refused to see that it was right there waiting for it. The body got impatient and began to send messages to the head. Messages that said

“Hey, here I am! Look at me! I’m right here. I can help. We belong together!”

The head either didn’t hear or couldn’t understand the messages.

The mind, meanwhile, kept frantically looking about, thoughts darting this way and that, trying to figure out what was best for the head, trying to control things, trying to make things happen.

Every now and then it would glance down at the body below it and think,

“What’s that thing doing there? It’s so annoying. Constantly needing something, like food or water or sleep. I don’t have time for that!”

The body got more and more impatient.

The body doesn’t much like racing thoughts. The body wants to be cared for; it craves the attention and the companionship of the mind within the head.

It couldn’t understand why the head wasn’t listening. So, it sent the messages again, louder.

“I’M HERE! LOOK AT ME! I NEED YOU. YOU NEED ME. WE BELONG TOGETHER!”

The head suddenly is like,

“Woa, there is this thing below me and, Ouch! It hurts! I don’t like it!”

The head, you see, interpreted the body’s message as pain, not as a longing to be together, to be whole.

The messages from the body got louder and louder. The head experienced the messages as ever increasingly intense physical pain and emotional overwhelm and floated ever higher above the body. Until…

One day the mind within the head realizes it *needs* the body.

It recognizes that without the body, none of its genius ideas will become concrete. It realizes that it needs the wisdom contained within the body to guide it and help it feel what’s right.

The mind is tired of spinning. It’s tired of the body yelling at it.

It wants to be connected. It wants to be whole.

But now, it is scared.

Whenever the mind looks down into the body, all it can see is pain.

The mind knows that once the body and the head are connected, wellbeing, ease, and healing are possible. It doesn’t know how to get there.

Want to know more?

Click here to read about How I Help to connect your head and your body.

Want a simple, relaxing technique that can be done anywhere? Click here to download my free Owl Eyes guidebook.

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?

I’ve only recently began to believe in hope.

Prior to last spring, I didn’t even know that I didn’t believe in hope. I had no idea how meaningless hope was to me.

Yes, there were clues.

For instance, two years ago, I was teaching a How to Thrive During the Holidays workshop and we were practicing connecting to various qualities that would be helpful for us throughout the holiday season.

One of the participants  suggested connecting with hope. In my head, I was like, “Hope? Really?”

Out loud, I said: “Ok, hope!”

The other people in the workshop had an experience of hope. I felt nothing.

Sidenote: Generally, when I ask to experience a quality, it shows up. I can feel it. I can easily distinguish gratitude from love from acceptance, etc. I haven’t always been able to do this; it is something I’ve learned to do, a skill I’ve actively cultivated.

Anyway, I asked to experience hope. Nothing.

Looking back, my experience makes perfect sense. Of course I would feel nothing.

At that time, however, I just noticed I felt nothing and instantly forgot about it. Hope hadn’t ever seemed particularly useful for me anyway.

Spring forward one and a half years… to last spring.

I’m participating in a powerful healing ceremony. During this ceremony, I have a vision.

In the vision, this unearthly being of light approaches me. Somehow, I know that I am in the Realm of Qualities (like love, kindness, integrity, compassion, etc) and that the approaching being is the embodiment of a particular quality.

The being approaches. I ask her name. She says: “My name is Hope.”

I’m all (again): Hope? Why hope? I have no relationship with hope!

The vision ends.

This time, I become curious.

It has become very evident to me that I know nothing about hope. And yet, meeting Hope (out of all the possible qualities) suggests there might be something here for me.

Plus, hope seems to be very important to other people. Perhaps I’m missing something?

(like hope, perhaps?)

I begin talking with friends.

One friend tells me that she loves hope… because hope is so hopeful. While that isn’t very helpful for me, I do feel oddly envious of her relationship with hope. Her energy feels so happy and light as she speaks.

Another friend tells me that hope is:

“the golden thread connecting where I am to something better. Hope is what helped me get through some really, really dark times in my life. Without hope, without a vision of something better, I wouldn’t be here today.”

I can feel the emotion, the sincerity, the deep gratitude in her voice.

I still don’t get it.

But, I can sense how real hope is for her and part of me wants to share her experience. Part of me wants to believe in hope.

But, how can I?

For me, hope has always seemed ridiculous.

What is the point of hoping for something? Either it happens or it doesn’t.

Hoping is just a waste of time (at best). At worst, hope might even keep you (me) from doing what it takes to get somewhere… because I am *hoping* for it to happen vs doing something to *make* it happen.

Hope implies lack of will, powerlessness, the necessity to be rescued by something or someone else. Hope implies the inability to be self-determined.

(Stay with me, it gets worse.)

Of course I don’t believe in hope! There is no point to hoping. It is better to just endure whatever is going on that is uncomfortable, painful, or intolerable.

Eventually, it will be over. Or it won’t. Either way, hoping isn’t going to change anything. All hoping does is set up the opportunity for disappointment. Or, in other words, for more pain.

It’s just like with my headaches.

I can hope that they get better. I can hope that this one will not be as long or as intense as the last. I can hope that I’ll find a permanent solution for it. Still, though, when I actually have a headache, all I can do is wait for it to be over. In its own time.

And then, I get to deal with all the feelings of hopelessness, helplessness, grief, and depression that are the aftershocks of that much pain.

See, there is no hope.

For me, years and years of unrelenting pain have squashed any hope of hope. There. Is. No. Hope.

For me, at least, there is no hope. There might be hope for you. I don’t know.

Despite all the above, something my second friend said keeps nagging at me.

The part about hope being the thread that connected her to the vision of something better.

The vision piece… hope is related to vision?

Hope is what connects where I am now to where I’d like to be? Hope is the pathway between here and there?

I begin to notice all the times I’ve really wanted something in my life, where I’ve had a vision for how something could be different or better or easier.

I begin to see how so often I’ve told myself it isn’t possible, or realistic, or that I shouldn’t even want something like that.

I begin to tie all those lost visions, those lost dreams, together with my loss of hope. I realize I DO know what it feels like to hope. However, so often, I immediately squash that feeling of hope, that thread that connects the me-of-now to the me-of-my-vision.

Because, there is no hope… right?

And then, following all the noticing of self-sabotage, I begin to see how the times that I have allowed myself to follow that sense of hope (that sense of something in my heart pulling me forward, that sense of expansion, of lightness, of inspiration, of longing) how beautifully my life has changed.

I begin to see how Hope, even though I denied her very existence, has still managed to be a thread connecting me to something bigger and more life-enhancing time after time after time.

Now, everywhere I turn I see Hope.

I see how Hope has been a constant companion, often in the disguise of that feeling of ‘rightness’, walking beside me throughout every step of my life.

Hope led me to:

• Ortho-Bionomy,
• changing my life completely in order for something new and more aligned to come through (this business, my husband),
• discovering more about healing, self-care, ritual, teaching, etc than I could ever have imagined,
• getting married,
• the community we are a part of,
• my spiritual path,
• a deeper connection with my family and my lineage,
• even to writing again (this post),
• and to much, much more.

Plus, as I am becoming more and more aligned with hope, I know that Hope is one of the biggest reasons (perhaps THE reason) I am here.

I am here to offer hope.

Hope of finding relief from pain, hope of a deeper connection with yourself, with your true nature, and with Spirit.

I’m not here to offer the hope of my fears – hope that is not grounded in realness.

Instead, I am here to offer hope that is a pathway to tangible, life-enhancing changes.

I am here to offer hope.

To you.

Comment Magic:

Thank you for being here! I’m curious, what is your experience of hope (or lack of hope)? Your stories, insights, hellos, etc, are all welcome.

I never wanted to get married, it’s true.

And yet, I’ve always been fascinated with wedding photos.

While I don’t seek them out, if there happens to be a wedding magazine readily available, I will pick it up, thumb through it, and either exclaim over or (more often) mock the gowns, the table settings, and whatever decorations may be in place.

Every now and then there would be a wedding (always out-of-doors; generally in the woods) glamorized on some DIY wedding blog and I’d think, “IF I were to ever get married, I’d want a wedding something like that.”

Well, I did get married. And now, I want to share it.

So today, just for today, I’m going to pretend that this blog is a wedding blog and I’m going to tell you a bit about our wedding day… with photos!

*Unless noted, all photos were taken by the oh-so-lovely Lorijo Daniels. She’s awesome. You want her to take your photo!

Our Vision

We envisioned all of our friends and family joining us to help create the wedding. We wanted the people we love spending the day with us, helping us decorate, cooking food, and just hanging out and getting to know each other.

We know that it is our community that sustains us both as a couple and as individuals and wanted our wedding to truly be a community event.

The Setting:

We held the wedding in the woods at YMCA Camp Collins, located on the Sandy River, right next to Oxbow Park, a park that is dearly loved by both of us.

How it all came together:

Our families did all of the cooking for the wedding feast, our friends showed up early to help decorate and finish prepping the food, my brother married us, Jami did my make-up (so beautifully), and the amazing Emma peeled over 60 apples to make homemade apple crisp which she served hot from the oven.

Here we attempt to hang huge swaths of silk I’d dyed gorgeous shades of turquoise.

In fact, over the course of several evenings I had dyed three 10′X55″ swaths of silk, 31 scarves, 25 handkerchiefs, and 27 yards of ribbon. These doubled as decorations and take-home gifts for attendees. Fun!

I adore my friends. Here two of them are creating boutonnières and corsages for family members. Check out the super beautiful fern and leaf clippings they foraged. In the background you can see some brilliant pom-poms waiting to be hung. (Photo by Mom).

Ah. What would I do without Emily? She provided the lovely vintage tablecloth-sheets. She suggested the pom-poms. She told me what colors to use to complement my turquoise and turmeric obsession. Then, she hand-painted wooden signs for us and sewed me the most awesome Owl in the world (Photo by Mom). Hot damn!

Earlier that morning, my dad, brother, and brother-in-law headed out on a secret mission to Cascade Locks to procure freshly caught wild salmon from tribal fishers. That evening, they grilled up four HUGE salmons – the best ever eaten. :) Photo by Dad.

This is one of my favorite photos. It’s meta! Lorijo is fixing my hair. Tom, who takes absolutely incredible black and white film photos, is patiently waiting. Photo by Dad.

The dress! Everyone wants to know about the dress, right?!

Well, if you happen to have a difficult to fit figure like I do, Cocoon Silk on NW 23rd Ave is the only place to go for the most amazing dress you’ll ever wear.

They specialize in custom made gowns created from spectacular, handmade Cambodian silk.

Savonna and his staff will personally help you choose the style that will best suit you (and your circumstances) and then make certain it fits you perfectly.

I wanted a dress that was flow-y and fitted, that wouldn’t take up a lot of space, that would be easy to wear and fun to walk and dance in. I totally got it.

I hate shopping (I always end up feeling like a freak because nothing ever fits me correctly) and yet, I loved every moment of my time spent at Cocoon Silk.

The Ceremony:

The ceremony was brief, sweet, and perfect. My brother officiated. The Mukluks played beautiful music for us. A hawk soared overhead.

Note: check out how dashing my soon-to-be-husband looks in his perfectly tailored vest and pants (also from Cocoon Silk).

The Mukluks – Peter and Monique.

Yes, Baby Mukluk is on the way! Very soon. Please send blessings and well wishes their way. Thank you.

Also, The Mukluks just released their first two singles. They are awesome. And, I’m not just saying that because I happen to be fortunate enough to be friends with them. I’m saying that because they are. Awesome. :)

 We did it! Standing before our family and friends for the first time as husband and wife.

Finally, thank YOU (yes, you)!

To all who read (this and the last post), commented, and sent or thought nice things, thank you.

And, an extra huge Thank You to those of you who participated in or attended our wedding as well.

Every one of you is part of our community and I’m so grateful you are in our lives. Much, much, much love!

PS. I posted a bunch more photos over at Google+. For now they are posted publicly and everyone can view. Soon, I’ll change it so only people in my circles can view my pictures; I’ll leave them public for as long as I can stand though.

And, if you aren’t on G+ and want an invite, let me know.

Comment Magic:

For a woman who had never dreamed of getting married, I somehow had a dream wedding. I am in awe of and inspired by the generosity, support, and love of our friends and families – both present and not. Truly, the entire day felt enchanted.

What I’d love to hear from you today is congratulations, well wishes, and stories of your own Enchanted Day – whatever it may be, wedding or otherwise.

(more love)

AN OPEN LETTER TO YOU:

Hello You,

I have some things to tell you. Things that are personal in nature. Things that, while personal, are directly affecting how I am showing up in my business right now.

Let’s go.

I’m getting married on September 29th.

Photo Credit: Lorijo Daniels

Shocking. To me at least. I never wanted to get married.

I was never that girl who dreamed of her fairy tale wedding and fantasized over the dress, the colors, the… well, whatever else it is that young girls include in their wedding fantasies.

If anything, I was the opposite.

I was the girl who never, ever, ever wanted to get married. I was the girl who turned into a young adult and eventually a woman still singing the same song.

And yet, here I am now, 6 weeks out from becoming a married woman.

A woman who is even going to take her man’s last name.

If I think about it much, it totally freaks me out.

And yet, I have to think about it, I have to allow the fear, the worry, the anxiety to arise.

How else can I meet it? How else can I work through all the terror that the concept of marriage brings up in me?

For so many years, marriage meant:

• complacency
• stagnation / the end of growing and evolving as a person.
• the possibility of being abandoned, of being hurt, of being lied to or cheated on (at worst) OR of living in a state of passionless co-existence (at best??).
• a horrible, dreadful thing that you stayed in ‘out of obligation,’ or ‘for the children,’ or because you were too scared to leave or didn’t believe there was the possibility of anything better for you out there.
• losing myself, my identity, my larisa-ness.

I’m quite certain there are many other awful connotations and closely held fears as well. These are just the ones that jumped out of my fingers in this moment.

Marriage, to me, never meant anything positive.

And, honestly, the vast majority of the marriages that I saw totally fed and confirmed my belief.

And yet, here I am, about to get married.

Some major internal shifts have had to occur in order for this to even be a possibility.

I’ve had to learn a whole hell of a lot about love. And trust. And surrender.

For instance, I had to trust that when he asked me to marry him and I felt that sense of rightness in my body, that it was right.

And, I’ve had to slowly, slowly surrender to and trust the love that we have for each other on a much, much deeper level than ever before.

Committing to marriage is perhaps the scariest things I’ve ever done.

I’ve sat with and met oceans of fear and terror - sometimes successfully. Often not.

I’ve picked up the pieces time and time again after totally freaking out and starting some huge fight.

I’ve learned to trust that fighting can (and for us often does) lead to a deepening understanding and increased love.

And, I’ve had the privilege of discovering just how much old wounding can begin to heal when two people fully commit to being true both to each other and to themselves.

All the work and unraveling of old constructs has been worth it.

My capacity to love and to allow myself to be loved has doubled, tripled, quadrupled (!) over this past year.

It is all because, a year ago, I said yes.

Because I said yes and then, with the support of

• the man in the picture :),
• my family/friends,
• my Allies (and Owl Eyes),
• and of Spirit,

began the process of meeting and beginning to heal the fear and pain-filled thoughts that the prospect of marriage triggered in me.

Now, today, I actually feel *excited* about the wedding.

I honestly can’t wait to share our commitment to each other in front of our families and closest friends. I get all teary just thinking about it. (gah, I guess I am one of those girls now).

I’d never in a million years guessed this could happen.

So, how does this affect you?

Well, you might have noticed that my writing here is no longer bi-monthly. It dropped down to monthly one (2?) month(s) ago already. And, next month, it likely won’t exist at all.

Right now all this getting married stuff is consuming my energy and something has to go. The writing part of my business is what I’m letting go… at least until October, after things have settled.

Until then, if you’d like to share in my excitement, please do!

Or, if you have any similar experiences of completely changing your mind about something you thought was set in stone, I’d love to hear it. I can’t be the only one who’s made such a complete reversal, right?

Sending so much love to you (wherever you are, whatever is happening in your life right now),

larisa

Yesterday was the 4^th 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. :)

I was reading Kylie’s blog the other day. This particular line caught my eye:

“Sink into comfort. See how much you can stand.”

I was nodding as I was reading thinking, “Wow. that’s so true and that’s something I want to write about. “

Then I re-read it and realized it actually said ‘Sink into DIScomfort…”

Giggling at my inability to read simple words, I was struck by how true both are… and realized this is a topic long overdue for my blog.

Sinking into DIScomfort

When we are in pain, a very normal, natural reaction is to disconnect from the pain so that we don’t have to deal with it.

Therefore, we talk about sinking into discomfort quite a lot here.

We talk about ways to meet discomfort, how to allow it to be there, how to hold it and listen to it.

We practice techniques (like Owl Eyes) that make it easier to open to the discomfort versus running from it, denying it, or disconnecting from it.

But… what about sinking into Comfort?

Should be simple, right? Comfort feels good… right?

And yet, I’ve noticed this sneaky, insidious thing about comfort.

I’ve noticed how much discomfort begins to build when I actually begin to feel comfort or wellbeing to a greater extent than before.

It appears I’ve learned to tolerate a certain level of comfort in my daily life. When that level is increased beyond the norm, the comfort eventually becomes uncomfortable.

It’s as if the greater the level of comfort I’m experiencing in my life, the more likely I am to somehow sabotage it especially if the level of comfort is greater than what I normally experience on a day-to-day basis.

Perhaps an example would be helpful.

Let’s take a peak into my intimate relationship.

Inevitably, when things are going really well and we are feeling super close, one of us eventually freaks out.

It’s generally not conscious. Everything is great and then, just like that, we are fighting over something incredibly silly and non-important (in the larger perspective).

The fight will drive this wedge between us and bring us back down closer to our normal pattern of relating that isn’t quite so deep.

Why?

Speaking for myself, I can’t tolerate the increased comfort.

I become terrified that it won’t last and start wondering (mostly unconsciously) if I can trust it, when/if it’s going to all come crashing down, and if it’s really OK for me to feel this way with him.

Eventually, I get outrageously upset over something small.

There is a blow-up and things return to a more ‘normal’ level of interaction and closeness. Our comfort baseline is restored.

The more I watch this pattern, the more I become aware of the fears and anxieties as they surface.

Then, I am able to sink into the discomfort of feeling increased comfort… which opens the possibility for even more comfort to enter into my life and relationship.

I see a similar pattern when working with clients.

Generally, when someone first comes to see me it is because there is some issue they want help with – a pattern of pain or anxiety that is interfering with their lives.

At some point in our work together, that issue resolves.

And then, all these deeply held other fears and anxieties begin to surface.

What if the pain comes back? What does it mean to feel good? How can I maintain this sense of wellbeing? I don’t want to lose it! Why am I so anxious and afraid now that things are going so well? What’s wrong with me?

These aren’t little fears.

These are deep, core terrors just as powerful as the original pain or anxiety that brought them to work with me.

Only now, my clients are in a place of greater overall wellbeing and have more resources available to help them meet the discomfort.

The practice of consciously sinking into comfort.

Consciously sinking into comfort allows us to become aware of these fears and doubts as they begin to surface.

We can meet them as they arise and continue to sink deeper into both the comfort and the discomfort simultaneously.

The more we can tolerate comfort (sink into it) the more we will be able to appreciate and honor the times in our lives where things are flowing and filled with wellbeing.

And, over time, we learn to tolerate greater and greater amounts of comfort.

Life begins to be a bit more balanced.

Times of increased comfort become stages for growth and learning about oneself. One no longer has to sabotage comfort. Growth through comfort becomes a possibility.

Now, as I’m writing this piece, I’m wondering if learning to sink into the discomfort of comfort, of learning to tolerate increased levels of comfort, might just be ‘how’ one grows through joy rather than pain. Interesting!

Comment Magic:

It’s rather an odd thing – to be talking about comfort as something one must learn to tolerate.

What are your thoughts? Have you experienced similar moments when comfort becomes uncomfortable? How do you meet the discomfort of increased comfort? How much comfort can you stand? ;)

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? :)

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 10^th. 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.