I awoke this morning to the sounds of seagulls outside. It took me a minute to remember I was not in my own bed, but snuggled into a warm bed in a seaside Air B&B. The day before, hubby John blessedly was able to “capture” a Covid vaccine. I could not, but managed to find an appointment for Saturday.
After John got his shot, and Krystal (the friend and angel who agreed to house sit for us) swept in and grabbed up Carter for a morning run with her pup, we headed for Seaside on the coast. It was a long drive through alternating rain, hail, and snow.
8am in downtown Seaside. I have no idea how these downs survive the lockdowns…
NOTE: For some reason, FB will not allow me onto its site anymore. This may be a glitch of some kind or it might be a message from the Universe, but I’ve decided this: I’ll do my best to get back onto FB, mostly so I can tell everyone I’ll be leaving. I’m setting up a MeWe page for myself and wen it is ready, I can aim you there if you would like to follow me and keep up our conversations. Meanwhile, I’ll be communicating more with my blog, so be sure to sign up here for new posts.
Today, I’d like to share some surprises and little miracles with my healing journey, in the hopes that there is something in here that may help you in your own healing. Because we are either in the process of healing, or in the process of decay. It is that simple. You either lift yourself into healing, or you abandon yourself to the pit where you sit and suffer and wonder why. But the motion forward never stops, so it will carry you either up, or down. Your choice. Ouch, yes, but your choice.
Perhaps many of you saw this on my FB page. I purchased the print from marissaquinn-art.com. I felt that the print was a part of me. The old crone with the long braid, graced by bees. After the print arrived, I noticed the paw of the wolf wrapped gently about the woman’s kidneys, and how a bee floats inside the woman’s kidney area, bringing healing.It is a powerful piece of art I will be reflecting with for a long time.
On a cold morning when hubby John was off on his own adventures, I was overcome with an urge to take Carter to the forest, and to walk as slowly and exploratively as I wanted. I did not expect nor desire to go far. I simply don’t have the strength yet. So, I grabbed my phone, my walking stick, and my dear walking companion and headed off. Often, I post the photos with brief descriptions on my FB page, but this time, I wanted to go deeper into how I “see” and experience the forest when I am alone.
Here, we head into the woods.
My mother always told me that it was good to have a life bordered by regular daily routines. She learned will power and firm resolve when she was in the Hitler Youth in Germany. The Youth program was all about self discipline and strong bodies. Hitler was growing a powerful army out of those school children.
My mother’s grammar school teachers taught her the importance of daily calisthenics, and of handwork and needlework. Far into her 50s, she would do pushups, sit-ups, and jumping jacks at her bedside each morning. And her entire Wall Street wardrobe from back in her early years was all knitted by hand, seemingly spilling out of the large basket of yarn she kept by her living room chair. She made coats, two-piece suits, blankets, dresses, and all my baby clothes… Continue reading
All these tender-filled words can be associated with Food. Food: that which sustains and nurtures and brings comfort, warmth, and hope. When I worked for humane societies and wildlife rehab centers, I had plenty of opportunity to bear witness for creatures on the edge of starvation, who were do depleted, they had lost all interest in food, in life.
Back then, I had no idea how it would feel to be so very wasted in body and spirit. Now I know, and I will never forget.
Little girl with ducks reminds me of the joy of sharing
Two years ago, I went through six weeks of a treatment called Transcranial Magnetic Stimulation, or TMS, for severe depression. According to everything I read about the process, including all the information on the Mayo, Cleveland, and John’s Hopkins clinics, It was “safe, with very few minor side effects.” Continue reading
Just a few days ago, John and I took a forest walk and stopped to appreciate my favorite tree. Here she is in all her magnificence, with her thick, fern and moss dress, and her leaves bare. She is old and dying, but here’s the thing…
Grand old Dame of the Forest.
Grab your trowel, and your dog. Digging is always more fun with company!
Autumn time is root time. At this time of year, all the “growing” energy of plants dips down deep into the roots, where the glowing energy of the core of the Earth is known and cherished by the soil and the roots she enfolds.
After the first frosts, root vegetables become sweeter. So, this is the time of year when I go digging for dandelion roots and dock. On a fine sunny day, there is such joy in plowing your hands deep into the dirt to loosen these nutritious, looooooong roots that are so deeply nourishing to our systems.
Dandelions and dock roots are cleansers and tonics of the liver, spleen, and kidneys. They are nature’s gift to us at the closing of the year—medicine for us to drink all winter, toning and healing our innards.
Here is a link to the many wonders of dandelion roots: … Continue reading
Someone in this photo is not like the others. Yes, this is a yellow jacket, head down in a honeycomb, side-by-side with hundreds of bees. I watched this scenario for a long time yesterday, with my butt planted on the patio dresser that is right in front of Valentine’s colony that lives in my room.
This bee hive is constructed between two studs in my room, and fitted with a double glass panel, so I am able to observe these bees without bothering them all year long. Right now, with all the smoke we’ve had, and the terrible winds before them that destroyed a lot of the flowers and plants in our yard, I am assisting my bees with food—combs of honey I’ve saved from hives that have perished. In this way, the bees who came and went are helping their sisters in this time of havoc… Continue reading
Gathering the goods.
I’ve been waiting to gather my hops blossoms, and I missed the peak period for picking because a huge unexpected wind storm sort of blew the peak right out of my flowers, but I am trusting them to be good enough for what I need them for.
A couple of weeks ago, after many weeks of feeling aggressive, impatient, and cranky, I found myself sitting in front of a lovely, steaming cup of fresh hops tea with a splash of valerian root tincture in it. I had been reading that hops might help me with my awful, disruptive mood. And so I sat with that cup in my two hands and did a quick inventory of my feelings: disgusted? Check. Wanting to scream at certain people? Check. Hopeless? Check… Continue reading
I’ve yet to step into the yard in the early morning, and sense that crispness in the air and in the light and shadow that speaks “autumn” to me in so many ways.
But she is on her way. I know this. The plants are telling me. Their stalks, dappled and dry, say “Any day now…” Yellowed leaves at the bottom of the trees and shrubs join in the chorus, “Soon the rain will come.” The hard ground is not so easy on my bare feet as the sponginess of spring soil. “It was glorious,” say the spent flower heads already dropping seeds onto the soil like precious coins. “Thank you…” say the insects in the yard, their soft songs filling me with delight that I have fed them all so well this season. Continue reading