tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3394936282847201282024-03-13T22:22:50.784-07:00The Healing FeminineLiving in Rhythm with Spirithealingfemininehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10795202701921357678noreply@blogger.comBlogger72125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-339493628284720128.post-87341614972752084882014-01-21T22:07:00.002-08:002014-01-21T22:07:26.956-08:00Love of a Duck<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Sometimes when I have not written for a long time, it can be hard to begin. There is much to say, stories to recount, emotions and revelations and illuminations to share. It's overwhelming to attempt a summary of all that has occurred from where I was to where I am now. Do I begin where I ended, do I try to share the bits of stories that have been floating around in my head for the last months? I'm afraid that doing so would require a post way longer than I am prepared to write (or you, dear reader, are prepared to read). </div>
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So let's just forget all that's been; let's start here in this moment.<br />
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In this moment I am sitting on the couch, computer in lap, husband at work, kids asleep. The house is neither clean nor tidy, but I can ignore it. I am feeling inspired by my birthday present from my husband, a book of all of my Healing Feminine posts. There is indescribable satisfaction in the solid form of my creative energy, the heft of it so real in my hands, compared to the floating fluff out in the internet ether. I thumb through the pages, looking at photographs, finding posts I had forgotten I'd written. I am a little awestruck by all those words. Did they really come from me? Might there be a few more?<br />
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I just mentioned that my book was a birthday present. This is correct. I just celebrated my 30th birthday. Being 30 makes me feel both old and young. Old, because I have now entered a new decade, a decade that seemed pretty darn old not so long ago. Scrutinizing my face in the mirror, I notice the emerging lines (of laughter, of tears, of life), the visible dots of my pores. I try to use eye cream, but my skin rebels. I've always maintained that aging is a beautiful thing, that I will welcome the transformation of my body, but the truth is that only now am I catching a glimpse of the loss of youth. Which makes many of my friends laugh at me, and which takes me to my second point. That turning 30 also makes me feel young. Because I am still young, relatively. And my husband and the majority of my friends are older than me, so I remain the younger one. But no matter my age, I must say that I feel really good, especially on an emotional and spiritual level [physically, I do feel my age]. I like being 30. It feels sexy somehow, despite the signs that I am indeed getting older.<br />
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I had a fabulous birthday week. The grand finale was a night out dancing in Portland, surrounded by beloved friends and family. It was perfect. But there was a tradeoff for that good time, an ebb of tide to follow the flow. Tragedy is not usually foreseen, a lesson I have learned many times on our farm. Sometimes it just sneaks up on you in the dark of night, as quietly as an important task can slip the mind. We make mistakes, as we humans are apt to do, as did the human caring for the farm in our absence. Our ducks were not closed in their secure house at night, a mistake that could have, and has, passed by unnoticed, but which did not go unnoticed that night.<br />
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In the morning, one little duck was left alone, loudly lamenting the loss of her two friends. She still searches the yard, the garden, down by her pool, hoping that the others have just found some cozy place to curl up. I am afraid she will search in vain, for the other two are not napping, but have most likely filled the bellies of some hungry raccoons. I hope those raccoons were very, very grateful for their meal.<br />
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I, for one, felt the pain of loss deep in my center as soon as I heard the news. My ducks were more than just farmhands, patrolling for slugs and gifting us with eggs. Perhaps you think me silly to mourn my lost ducks. You might say they were just ducks, after all. Surely worse things had happened in the world that day. But every being has a spirit, and my spirit was connected to those ducks. I've had more mystical experiences with them than with almost any other animal on our farm. So laugh if you will, and I will just have compassion for you, poor thing who has never loved a duck.<br />
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Since this story of loss follows <a href="http://thehealingfeminine.blogspot.com/2013/11/at-peace.html" target="_blank">another story of loss</a>, I am going to end with something beautiful. Picture this: it is a bitterly cold winter day, even as the sun shines down. I am sitting on our front porch, the only place where I can capture the warmth of golden light. Besides the chickens scratching around in the garden bed beside me, I am alone. Eyes closed, deep in peaceful meditation, I am suddenly inspired to Om. So I do, eyes remaining closed, love beaming out from my center. And when I've finished and opened my eyes, I see that the ducks have joined me. Standing in front of me, their backs to me, their heads turned as they gaze with wise eyes, they form a triangle. The white one is at the top, the black one to my left, brown one to my right. I see them and burst into tears. They stand guard, my angels in disguise, as I release heaving sob after heaving sob. Every time I stop, I see them and start crying all over again, until I'm done. Cleansed. Then they walk over to me and nibble my fingers with their gentle ducky bills.<br />
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Blessings to you, Iemanja and Yansa. I am so grateful to have known you.<br />
*Gratitude*healingfemininehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10795202701921357678noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-339493628284720128.post-76548533306750650202013-11-23T21:04:00.000-08:002013-11-23T23:03:35.031-08:00At Peace<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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If I were a singer, this would be my love song for Avalon [a little brown mare with a white blaze on her face, the attitude of a queen, and a heart for the children].<br />
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The day was falling rain, like tears from the sky. I looked out and for a moment doubted my decision to go riding, but only for a moment [I am a fifth generation Oregonian, after all. Rain does not scare me.] Stepping out into the gray afternoon, the cool air invigorating and refreshing my spirit after the lulling warmth of the wood stove, I collected that which I needed: a few apples, a halter, a brush and a riding pad. Out in the field, I called for Harold. He and the sheep were hunkered down by the edge of the forest, seeking protection from the driving rain. He raised his head when I called, galloping over with an anticipatory neigh. I would like to say he was excited to see me, but really it was for the apples he knew I had.<br />
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My beautiful Harold is normally white, dappling to gray in the summer. Today he was not white. He was an orangish yellow, the color of the clay earth of our hills. He looked around and neighed again, his whole body shaking, his apples finished. The clay on his coat was not from rolling on the muddy ground; his shade was the color of grief. He had been lying on Avalon's grave.<br />
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Our beloved Avalon, buried deep in that clay of the earth, in a hole so big it had to be dug by a backhoe. I had stood there while bucketfulls of soil began covering her still body, and I had cried. A bouquet of ferns and forest plants lay on her mane, carrying with them my love and gratitude for all that she had been. In the field on the other side of the hill, Harold ran up and down the fence line, tearing the soft earth with his pounding hooves. Carving out his path of grief.<br />
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Today he is calmer, though he still calls for her, as if she might be out there somewhere, hidden perhaps in the curvature of the hills. The rain softly continues, and I brush rivers of mud off Harold's back. I put on his pad and halter, then look for assistance in getting onto his tall back. I settle for a slope in the hill, which gives me just enough of an advantage to make the leap, though not at all gracefully.<br />
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I guide him towards the gate at the other end of the field. We make it only a short distance before Harold lets it be known that he is in no mood for a ride. He turns, rearing up when I urge him in the other direction. I quickly realize that this is going to be a fight [and one I probably won't win], so I slide off his back with the intention of leading him out of the field, where I can remount and try again. (Sometimes fields are just too open and full of possibility. One needs a path for clearer direction). Only when I attempt to lead him do I realize how the trauma of Avalon's death has affected him, as he pins his ears back in fierce warning. Back off, he says, and leave me alone.<br />
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I stand my ground, trying again to lead him. He threatens to bite. The distance to the gate looms large.<br />
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I then turn my palm towards his chest and send out a prayer, thanking the universe as I begin to channel <a href="http://www.reiki.org/faq/whatisreiki.html" target="_blank">Reiki</a> energy into the angry horse beside me. When his ears flicker forward, I guide him again towards the gate. He doesn't exactly have a smile on his face, but at least we are flowing in the right direction. Leaving the field, I use the gate to assist my leap onto Harold's back. We follow the gravel road up past my parents' house and into the woods.<br />
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It is no wonder that Harold is traumatized. He was shut in our small barn as Avalon lay beside him, thrashing and kicking in the agony of colic. Did she cry out for him in her last hours? Did he call for help as his beloved friend lay dying? I think he did. As I went to bed that night, I thought I heard a strange sound coming from the direction of the barn. To my deep regret and sorrow, I chose the comfort of my bed over an investigation into the dark, cold night. I had no idea what would await me in the morning.<br />
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As Harold and I make our way up the trail in the woods, branches obscure our path. They splash their collections of raindrops into my face as we ride by, flowing like tears down my cheeks. Harold is full of touchy, barely contained energy, and I marvel that I, so miniscule in my strength as compared to his, have control over this magnificent beast. Arching his neck, he prances like the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Azteca_horse" target="_blank">Azteca</a> he is, descendant of royal bloodlines. My King Harold. The fact that he is part of my family is a blessing I'll never take for granted. And as painful as it is to admit, there was an undercurrent of emotion in that river of emotions coursing through my body the morning I opened the barn door to find Avalon stiff upon the ground amid the chaos of her death. As I knelt to hold her head in my hands, my wails rising and falling from a deep and ancient place of grief, I did feel a current of something. Something like relief. Relief that it wasn't Harold.<br />
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I firmly believe that everything happens for a reason, though the reason for this is not yet clear. Harold wants to run, but I don't let him, not yet. Keeping him collected, we neck archingly feet prancingly practically galloping in place make our way up a steep, muddy slope. Hitting an old logging road gone soft with moss, I let Harold take his head. The energy beneath me that had been delicately held suddenly releases. We are flying through the trees. The rain is like tears upon our faces.<br />
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Harold runs until he's done running, then we slow to a trot, then walk. He still moves quickly because he knows we've rounded the loop towards home, but the built-up energy from earlier is gone. We both feel clear and light, washed clean from the rain, purified by the crisp mountain air. Something was released when Harold hit the apex of his gallop, that wide open point of connection when we soar. Perhaps Avalon had been flying along beside us, perhaps she had continued upwards as we had continued onwards. What I do know for sure is that Harold and I had journeyed together, and we were coming out the other side with healing. The fields of home became visible through the trees.<br />
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Rest in peace, sweet grumpy queenly Avalon. You were deeply loved and will be remembered with gratitude. May your spirit fly high.<br />
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*Gratitude*healingfemininehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10795202701921357678noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-339493628284720128.post-41643809162947304722013-10-10T23:21:00.000-07:002013-10-10T23:21:19.696-07:00Transformation<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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1. The Fall Garden<br />
You can never pin a garden down as being this or that. The moment you name it, it changes yet again. Growth, death, rebirth; the garden is never the same from one moment to the next. The fall garden, for instance, is different in September than in October, and November's a new story still.<br />
This past weekend, blessings of sunny, beautiful weather energized me to play goddess in the direction of the garden's transformation. Wild overgrowth that was, just a few weeks ago, green and vibrantly blooming, had turned frost-kissed and brown. Now the earth, once engulfed by a wild tangle of vegetation, has been cleared, expectant rows ready for a new cycle of creation. My ongoing canvas. As the energy begins its downward flow into the earth for winter's rest, I'm already looking ahead to the next growing season as I plant cover crops, garlic, and overwintering onions. The garden never ends. It simply transforms from one incarnation to the next.<br />
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2. I Will Be Turning 30<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhMfXR4xPna6Bd32kxr5fKOTMWImC_LbYB4HzGlqSHU2Zz4muMBTjgVoOK94xBKJbgDpCCsmnu3Rcd_YTaED-tBXlhrbi7H4WEBqkHWvpscNToGDNwalN8znJUIlg8yrL5J1tCsESLiu0z/s1600/IMGP0442.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhMfXR4xPna6Bd32kxr5fKOTMWImC_LbYB4HzGlqSHU2Zz4muMBTjgVoOK94xBKJbgDpCCsmnu3Rcd_YTaED-tBXlhrbi7H4WEBqkHWvpscNToGDNwalN8znJUIlg8yrL5J1tCsESLiu0z/s400/IMGP0442.JPG" width="282" /></a> At the beginning of the new year, I will enter the next decade of my life. I have never been very attached to age, but I must admit that 30 feels big: the official ending of one phase, the beginning of another. A landmark in the ongoing transformation of my Self. When I look at the 20 year old me and the me I am now, I laugh with wonder at the journey that has brought me here. On how many continents have my feet felt the earth, in how many languages have I said I love you? On how many beaches have I slept, under how many waterfalls have I swam? In how many arms have I danced, with how many sisters have I circled? How many places have I called home, how many gardens have I tended? And how did that girl, that me of once upon a time, travel so far that she found herself back in the woods and fields where she first started, no longer a girl, but a woman, a wife, a mother?<br />
How many transformations have brought me closer to my soul, and how many more are to come? I remember once, back when I was a teenager, wondering how I could possibly mature and evolve beyond the point where I was at. Oh sweet girl. She had no idea.<br />
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3. Frida Kahlo<br />
Before I came inside to write, I was out caring for my extended family - the chickens, ducks, horses and goats: changing water, filling feeders, cleaning out old straw, laying down fresh beds. It is work I very much enjoy, out surrounded by beauty and God's creation. When I came back into the house, my old jeans were covered in mud and bits of straw, my hair frizzy from falling rain. I was in no shape to write.<br />
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There is little I find more satisfying than changing into comfy clothes and making a cup of tea after working out in the cold and rain. But today, in order to write, I couldn't simply change into sweat pants and a tee shirt. Oh no. I needed a skirt, a pretty shirt, big earrings. A necklace and some rings. I smoothed my hair and braided it into two long braids. Looking in the mirror, I felt the inspiration of Frida Kahlo blessing me with a kiss.</div>
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I have always loved Frida and her wild self-expression. Prints of her artwork adorn our home, while postcards of photographs capturing the beauty of her essence inhabit sacred spaces. My children also connect with her through a book of theirs called simply, <i><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Frida-Spanish-language-Jonah-Winter/dp/0439331188/ref=sr_1_2?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1381427671&sr=1-2&keywords=frida+jonah+winter" target="_blank">Frida</a>. Frida</i> tells the story of her life through the magic and imagination she inspires. The book, written in Spanish, ends with these words:</div>
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<i>Frida no imita el estilo de nadie. Sus pinturas son </i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><span class="Latn headword" lang="pt" xml:lang="pt"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Ășnicas</span></i></span></span><i>. En los museos, cuando las personas ven sus cuadros, se echan a llorar, s<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">uspiran o </span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><span class="Latn headword" lang="es" xml:lang="es"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><i>sonrĂen</i></span></span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">. Y es</span> que Frida convierte su dolor en algo maravilloso. Es como un milago. </i></div>
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(Frida does not imitate anybody's style. Her paintings are unique. In the museums, when people see her paintings, they start to cry, sigh, or smile. And it's because Frida transforms her pain into something marvelous. It's like a miracle.)</div>
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For some reason I always have to hold back tears when I read those words. If my children were to notice and ask me why I was crying, I would have to say because it's beautiful. </div>
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I have recently discovered an author I've fallen in love with, Alice Hoffman. I just finished reading her book <i><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Foretelling-Alice-Hoffman/dp/0316154091/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1381427578&sr=1-1&keywords=the+foretelling" target="_blank">The Foretelling</a></i>, which is actually for young adults, but still thoroughly enjoyable for an old mama like me. (For an incredible journey into her writing, read <i><a href="http://www.amazon.com/The-Dovekeepers-Novel-Alice-Hoffman/dp/1451617488" target="_blank">The Dovekeepers</a></i>. It's going down as one of my favorite books of all time). The first line of <i>The Foretelling</i> is this:</div>
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<i>I was born out of sorrow, so my mother named me Rain.</i></div>
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The story continues with Rain, Queen-to-be of an ancient tribe of <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Amazons" target="_blank">Amazonian</a> women. It is a coming-of-age story, a story of spiritual quest as Rain seeks to bring peace to her people during a time of war and bloodshed. Towards the end of the book, Rain tells us this:</div>
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<i>As for me, I was ready to return as the Queen. I had made something out of my sorrow. I had stitched it together with a rope made of hair from the tail of my mare; I had used bones of my grandmothers and my mother and my sister as needles. I chanted my gratitude all the way home. Thank you to my sister the bear, to my sister-horse, to the goddess above us, thank you for letting me be who I am, for letting me ride into whatever fortune we made together. Thank you for letting me be Rain and no one else.</i></div>
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<i>It was the ending of something. It was the beginning of something.</i></div>
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4. Miracles <br />
On many accounts we are living in a time of sorrow. Chaos and upheaval appear to reign. But from that chaos something new is born; we can, with the power of the feminine, transform our sorrow into the healing of our planet. A miracle for sure, but miracles are within reach.<br />
This <i>is</i> the end of something; it is also the beginning. We can begin with ourselves. Let's change out of our comfy clothes and put on that which speaks to our Soul. Looking in the mirror, we can honor all that came before us and, with gratitude, choose to create something different. We can look to the Earth for guidance, pulling our energy inwards to nourish ourselves as She does, releasing what's no longer needed as we prepare for rebirth. Transformation: let's tend the seeds of our new vision. This life is ours to create. <br />
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*Gratitude*</div>
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<br />healingfemininehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10795202701921357678noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-339493628284720128.post-5572135724879250712013-09-26T22:50:00.000-07:002013-09-26T22:50:29.806-07:00Abundance<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I am sitting in a cafe, alone. A box full of toys waits expectantly for the touch of small hands, but this morning they will wait in vain. My children are not with me. I sip my tea, cooled to the perfect temperature, and enjoy the relaxed peace of a childless moment. My children are both in school.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">First day of school</td></tr>
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Let me say that again, savoring each word as it parts from my lips: my children are both in school. A blessing long anticipated. Four mornings a week, I leave them in the excellent care and nurturing love of their two teachers, one of whom was my teacher when I was a small girl, attending the same little <a href="http://www.philomathmontessori.org/" target="_blank">Montessori school</a>. I drop them off, after many hugs and kisses, and as I get in the car to head off to my three hours of peace, there is a distinct feeling of joy in my heart.<br />
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Now don't get me wrong - I love my children with an intensity all mothers understand. Being in their presence brings joy to my soul and wonder to my world... most of the time. I would be lying if I said I never longed to sip my tea in quiet, never desired a moment to work uninterrupted by my sweet babies' need for attention (babies? To me, always. But my oh my are they getting big now. I look at the sleek lines of my son's face, more and more chiseled as is his father's, and I wonder where those plump baby cheeks ran off to.) Having time to myself a few mornings a week gives me the opportunity to do something for myself, to renew and rebalance, or at least just go grocery shopping in peace.<br />
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Which brings me back to this cafe and this cup of tea, almost gone. Here I sit, myself and my words, and is it to unhumble to say that I am inspiring myself? It has been a long, long time since I sat to write. Since June 28, apparently, which was when I wrote my last post. And in that post, I believe I said this:<br />
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"I think about possible posts and how one day I would like to write them. I think every day, I will sit down and write. But I don't. How can I, when there is so much to do? Since the Solstice [summer], however, my Self has cried out to myself: write! Woman, write. Even if they are not the detailed essays I sometimes produce, I must share this channel of my soul. So yes, I will try to keep posting. Even if they come slowly, slowly they will come."<br />
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It has been almost three months since I wrote those words. The story that now appears with each tap of my fingertips is indeed slow to come. In fact, I wasn't even sure if there would be another story - I was beginning to think that life was too full to fit in the writing of a blog. But now, my tea is gone. If I swirl the dredges in the bottom of my cup, will it show me my future? Will it reflect back to me the desires of my soul, the satisfaction and pure joy I feel at this moment, in this cafe, with my cup of empty tea, as the words find form where once it was blank? Is it arrogant of me to admit that when I read my last two posts, they brought tears to my eyes? I can admit this because I know the words are not solely mine, and I give credit where credit is due: when I enter into this space of writing, I am but a conduit through which Spirit may flow. I will keep writing this blog, I know this now for certain. My eyes fill with tears because the words connect me to the Divine source within.<br />
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Anthony, my husband, loves to watch Youtube videos of American Idol and X Factor, shows that offer common people with uncommon musical talents a chance at making it big. When Anthony finds a really good one, he shares it with me. I love watching people who look quite ordinary, who are nervous and unsure in front of thousands of viewers, transform into exquisite beauty as they share their fabulous gifts. When these people sing, it is pure Spirit shining through. And that is the beauty of everyone's talent, wherever it may lie. Those places where we shine are portals for divinity to enter this earth. None of us are ordinary - we are all beautiful and complicated beings of creation, each with our own unique expression. I will keep writing this blog, for this is my forum to shine extraordinarily. This is where I speak with my Spirit voice.<br />
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(P.S. if you have never watched X Factor, or even if you have, please watch <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JVTReNon6sI" target="_blank">this video</a>. This woman brought shivers to my arms and tears to my eyes. She is simply and beautifully amazing.)<br />
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As often happens with my writing, this post has turned out to be completely different from what I had originally planned. I had planned to ease back into this blog with a post about the garden, the beautiful, vivacious, overflowing garden. Hence the title of this post: abundance. This is such an abundant time of year, it cannot even be contained. Our entryway is filled with boxes and baskets: potatoes and onions, plums and pears, drying sunflowers and garlic braids. The refrigerator is filled with zucchini, beans, corn, cucumbers, and pickled cabbage, the freezer with frozen berries and harvested chickens. I rearrange baskets of eggs and bowls of tomatoes to make room at the table. And this is only what we have stored in the house: the garden still grows as if hoarding for a famine. The summer crops continue to produce, while the fall crops of kale, chard, cabbage, broccoli, carrots, beets, winter squash, and brussels sprouts will continue to feed us through the end of the year. As I try to manage the blessings of this abundance, I gently transform overwhelming feelings into gratitude.<br />
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Feeling overwhelmed is a common occurrence for me. Back at the Winter Solstice, when I could barely contain the exhausted and panicked feelings within me, <a href="http://thehealingfeminine.blogspot.com/2012/12/preparing-for-solstice.html" target="_blank">I pledged to release</a> the experience of being overwhelmed. But releasing patterns as engrained as those does not happen overnight. I release them, only to feel overwhelmed again. But each time I get better, each time I find it easier to let go of the story of what I *need*/*should* be doing and focus instead on experiencing that which my soul desires. Exhale and release, inhale and welcome my blessings. Exhale and ground my energy into the earth, inhale and embrace gratitude. Exhale unrealistic expectations, inhale the beauty of the present.<br />
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The gift of life is the gift of creating our own experiences. In every moment we have the opportunity of choice - perhaps we cannot choose the exact circumstances of our experiences, but we have absolute choice as to how we respond. Every moment is an opportunity for us to choose the expression of our Highest Self [and I repeat, go watch <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JVTReNon6sI" target="_blank">Sam Bailey </a>sing her heart out].<br />
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Abundance, gratitude, love. This is what I choose to experience.<br />
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*Blessings*healingfemininehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10795202701921357678noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-339493628284720128.post-65640860413275202132013-06-28T20:58:00.000-07:002013-06-28T20:58:32.287-07:00Unexpected<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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The Summer Solstice took me by surprise.<br />
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As in, I was not expecting to feel what I felt on this day. I knew the solstice was coming of course, knew the exact day and time and phase of the moon (almost full). But I did not expect to be birthed into a higher understanding of life on that day.</div>
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Yes I know, that was deep. Obviously the Solstice was a very powerful experience for me. But before I go on, let me say one thing: I love writing this blog. The words materialize inside of me, desiring release. I think about possible posts and how one day I would like to write them. I think every day, I will sit down and write. But I don't. How can I, when there is so much to do? Since the Solstice, however, my Self has cried out to myself: write! Woman, write. Even if they are not the detailed essays I sometimes produce, I must share this channel of my soul. So yes, I will try to keep posting. Even if they come slowly, slowly they will come.<br />
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So now, back to the Solstice. What a lovely time of year - the damp and cool and vivid green of spring lingers, but the plants grow with the energy of summer. I was just looking at my last post, written about a month ago, and the pictures of the garden amazed me. How bare, how little everything was! What a beautiful, glowing green and blooming purple Eden it is now. The process of life so joyously exquisite in the quiet, long light of late evening. Deep gratitude.<br />
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In the days, possibly even weeks, leading up to the Solstice, I wasn't feeling especially great. Not sick - physically I was fine - but drained, unmotivated, low energy. Kind of grumpy. After my experience at the Winter Solstice, I should have known something was coming. But I did not. </div>
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The <a href="http://thehealingfeminine.blogspot.com/2012/12/preparing-for-solstice.html" target="_blank">Winter Solstice</a>, for me, was much anticipated. I knew it would bring about deep spiritual transformation, and that it did. I did not expect the same for its summer counterpart. </div>
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The morning of the Summer Solstice, I woke up with cramps, dull, achy, and constant. This happens to me around the full moon, as my body cycles in her rhythm and releases those little eggs of my creative being. I can tell how powerful a full moon is by the intensity of my cramps, and I knew this moon was very, very powerful. Full moon on the Solstice, powerful indeed. </div>
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By the time the kids were asleep and I was finishing up my evening chores, the cramps intensified to the point of no walking. I lay down in the grass, late setting sun shining his last rays upon me, and I surrendered to the waves of pain washing over me. I feel like I'm in labor, I thought to myself. Looking up through the tree above me, neon green with the deep blue beyond, distant hills glowing gold, I had the sudden realization that I <i>was</i> in labor. Giving birth to mySelf. Birthing in the energy of release, of evolution, of healing; a rebirth in the continuing cycle of spiritual transformation that has been occurring since the Winter Solstice. As I lay on the Earth, cradled in her embrace, I gave birth to a higher understanding of myself. </div>
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Since that solstice experience, I have felt different. Slower, more relaxed, joyful, full of peace. Reconnected to Spirit after a very, very busy spring. My perspective, always expanding, now perceives a deeper understanding of my truth. Continuing on with the work of this year, old patterns were released- unsupportive patterns passed down from generation to generation, passed on from experiences of lives lived long ago: patterns of scarcity, anxiety, anger, control, fear. Patterns no longer needed in my Being. I release you with a kiss. </div>
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While living the daily routines of life, it is easy to forget that we are in the midst of transformation: the feminine is rising, the masculine is healing. Coming into balance. I see this healing in the faces of the mothers holding hands in Turkey as they protect their protesting children from violent forces. I see it in the strength of my friends as they bravely leave unhealthy relationships to create a truer life for themselves and their children. I see it in my family as we learn to communicate and connect on a deeper level. I see a vision, and it is beautiful. I see the blossoming of my garden reflected in the universal stars. </div>
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I invite you to open your eyes and birth your Truth into the world.</div>
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*blessings*</div>
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{this post is dedicated to Alisha, Megan and Kerry - your strength and beauty are an inspiration}</div>
healingfemininehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10795202701921357678noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-339493628284720128.post-50861508690786870802013-05-19T21:42:00.001-07:002013-05-19T21:42:57.091-07:00Wise EarthI'm not sure if this post will ever get written. It will take many days for sure.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeIQDOfsLlq6amJ0tn0ppbisrBqdeM5GXMU0BmrajN_67z2gOcBdogaa637WfFVkQ4dV912rbOkc3BPbmrJZ4iLYwoIeY4Dzx7zLKrzfJDrAkbI59X9vq3dwQ3quCoaSvyfw4WtnSoZpas/s1600/IMG_8243.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeIQDOfsLlq6amJ0tn0ppbisrBqdeM5GXMU0BmrajN_67z2gOcBdogaa637WfFVkQ4dV912rbOkc3BPbmrJZ4iLYwoIeY4Dzx7zLKrzfJDrAkbI59X9vq3dwQ3quCoaSvyfw4WtnSoZpas/s400/IMG_8243.JPG" width="400" /></a>This is not because I have infinite words to express (although the expression of the earth is infinitely wise), but because I have suddenly found myself the head mistress of a true blue farm. And it's spring time, and the days are long, and outside is so much more enticing than inside, and my garden wants me and my animals need me and my children desire all my attention and everyone needs to be fed and maybe a dish or two washed and the laundry's been sitting there for a week and the woods are oh so lovely this time of year. And then it's time for bed.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3NgSgZvcupD6dT4cN1DjLN995cBPtScRGDyp5rBP8OLi3_yDFRfSsl1izi_qhkqlp9bRG6pANEWa2wxsRTnACyCgjLzSUkz4zBWL5HfLy1c2y3EWOHeBRVm1vJdLgO_rZhgR8DVV0btjm/s1600/IMG_8277.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3NgSgZvcupD6dT4cN1DjLN995cBPtScRGDyp5rBP8OLi3_yDFRfSsl1izi_qhkqlp9bRG6pANEWa2wxsRTnACyCgjLzSUkz4zBWL5HfLy1c2y3EWOHeBRVm1vJdLgO_rZhgR8DVV0btjm/s400/IMG_8277.jpg" width="265" /></a>Does that make any sense? Probably not. But just keep reading, because I'm drinking my first cup of yerba mate in a month (since before <a href="http://thehealingfeminine.blogspot.com/2013/04/spring-cleaning.html" target="_blank">my cleanse</a>) and it'll kick in in a few minutes, and I'll start spouting the enchanted poetry of my soul.<br />
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I hear my poetry best in the evenings. Evenings are one of my favorite times of day. The light lasts so long, I'm able to get in some blessed garden time once the kids are curled up in bed, faces angelic with the serenity of sleep. If it's been cloudy during the day, or rainy, or windy (as it is apt to get up here on our hill), it is usually clear by evening time, and the garden glows with the last rays of the sun. It is quiet but for the singing birds, and nobody is there to divert my attention from the lovely earth. As I sit, hands in the soil, gardening questions on my mind, the earth shares her wisdom and suddenly I know what must be done.<br />
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1. The soil up here in our sweet little coastal range is generally full of clay. There are a few sections of my garden where the soil is like butter, but most of it is heavy and dense. It takes a long time to dry out, and if dug too soon, turns into clay rocks when the sun shines. This lesson I learned well this year, as lovely March and April weather got my garden hands itching. In my eagerness to plant as soon as possible, I worked the earth too soon, and gradually my plants were growing out of hard, cracked earth. Where was the butter? Thankfully the earth's wisdom came to my rescue, telling me to break up the surface soil (with a trowel and my hands, strong hands) and mulch.<br />
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2. I have a new game plan. Last year I played around a bit with <a href="http://thehealingfeminine.blogspot.com/2012/04/no-dig-garden.html" target="_blank">no dig gardening</a>, and I'm going to try it again. We have a large patch of ground that will be home to corn and squash. Anthony rototilled it up for me, but the resulting soil does not inspire images of abundance. I mulched it with straw to retain moisture, with the intention of removing the straw at planting time. But one night, as I sat in my garden under the gaze of the new moon, the earth spoke to me. I understood. My clay soil wants top soil built upon it. Lots and lots and lots of top soil. And thanks to the chickens, ducks, and horses, I have plenty of poopy straw just waiting to break down into beautiful composted soil. So, my corn patch: I'm going to leave the straw in place. I'm going to spread a layer of horse manure [mixed with straw] over the top of it, followed by a layer of mostly decomposed compost, followed by a layer of soil (which we did have to buy). Into that soil my seeds will be planted, and as their roots grow, they will find rich layers of organic matter to nourish them to glorious maturity.<br />
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3. Gardening is a constant lesson of finding balance. Of patience, of faith. Of loosening control. Of listening. I love the courageous sunflowers and nasturtiums and cosmos and bachelor buttons and sweet peas that spring up wherever their soul desires, in this bed or that corner or the middle of the path. I leave them where they sprout, grateful for their blessings. Flowers are as important to me as the food I grow, and they appease the creative fires inside me. Fresh bouquets are a fountain of joy.<br />
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4. In prior times of my life, art was one of my main creative passions. The open pages of <a href="http://thehealingfeminine.blogspot.com/2013/03/all-tangled-up.html" target="_blank">my journal</a> eagerly accepted my voracious creativity as I collaged, painted, and wrote. It is a rare day that I create art like that any more, as my life exuberantly fills with other endeavors. More and more I am seeing that my garden is my canvas, and my creativity flourishes as flowers from the earth. Especially as the fenced field this garden once was develops into a more defined space, I am able to apply my energy ever more creatively.<br />
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5. The enchanted poetry of my soul flows best at night, when my world reduces down to me and the earth on my hands. The words flow through my mind like water in a river ["everything is governed by rule of one thing leads to another. We can't really place blame, 'cause blame is much too messy. Some was bound to get on you, when you were trying to put it on me." Sorry - old <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uXylc8CVDic" target="_blank">Ani Difranco song</a> that I recently rediscovered and am re- in love with.) If only someone were listening in on my brain and transcribing those graceful words for me, I would produce brilliant posts every day. But instead, I enjoy them in solitude, pausing to look at the golden blue gray light of the clouds and the setting sun. I look back down at my hands and the earth speaks to me.<br />
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6. She tells me secrets about myself. She reminds me of my ancient being and ways of living that feed my soul. She nourishes me. She is faithful, she is generous, she is abundant blessings.<br />
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7. I am almost finished with a new garden bed. It is totally awesome, I must admit. And I made it as I planned to above in point #2, although it is not in the corn patch. And never again will I attempt digging out our clay soil. Oh no baby, I build right on top. Everyone is very happy (the plants, the earth, me). And the children are happy. They love using their shovels, filling wheelbarrows, climbing dirt mountains, digging holes, and generally getting dirty and being silly. And I have sweet satisfaction in my creative heart.<br />
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8. My life is full to the brim, and fuller it will get. I learn how to balance the barely contained chaos. I flow with the earth and the moon and my body and my family and learn to live my joy. I see my personal journey mirrored in the cosmos: the healing of feminine energy, the balance of the masculine. Receiving the energy of the Universe, I feed it back down to the earth. The Earth: her wisdom resides under my fingernails, permanently fixed in the crevices of my hands. I hold her close to my heart. I heed her words.<br />
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9. May your hands dig deep in the earth. May you listen closely and heed the sage words of our Mother. May we all receive her blessings, opening to her healing ways. May we live in harmonious balance.<br />
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*Gratitude*healingfemininehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10795202701921357678noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-339493628284720128.post-17129025633206972322013-05-04T06:54:00.001-07:002013-05-04T06:54:19.554-07:00Cleansed<br />
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This morning begins my second-to-last day of my three week cleanse (for details on how I'm cleansing, please read <a href="http://thehealingfeminine.blogspot.com/2013/04/spring-cleaning.html" target="_blank">this</a> post). In all honesty, I am feeling great.<br />
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Although there have been times of feeling less-than-amazing, this cleanse has not been particularly difficult (except for the first couple of caffeine-free days). Changing my diet to a sweets-free/grain-free/ dairy-free/caffeine-free way of eating has been surprisingly easy. The cravings I thought would come have not [although I have had some impulses to eat the rice I was serving my children]. I haven't even missed my favorite nighttime snack [toast with lots of butter, almond butter, honey and cinnamon. It's been replaced with an apple and a spoonful of almond butter. Also delicious.]<br />
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I think the ease of this cleanse has been the result of several factors. First and foremost, I was just really ready for this. I've known since fall that Yasmina would wean over the winter and that I would cleanse this spring [you don't want to cleanse, thus releasing toxins into your breast milk, when you are breastfeeding]. And since the fall, I have been undergoing my own evolution, gaining insights on myself and striving to release ways that no longer serve me. It is a constant dance, this evolution of being, but with this cleanse I have found the physical release of old and unneeded energy. Habits I found impossible to break a month ago have easily slid out of me. I feel rested, renewed, and in touch with the power of my own energy in a way I've never felt before.<br />
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One of the best rewirings that has happened during this cleanse is my new priority on resting. During the first week, I would often feel very tired and fuzzy-headed [which are normal signs of toxins leaving the body]. Pre-cleanse, that would have been my sign to brew a cup of yerba mate and push through. Now, instead of fueling myself with caffeine, I lay down for a few minutes or just sit and relax [what a concept!] I am now making it through the day without those feelings of sleepiness and cloudiness. I am listening to my body. In the evenings, when I am tired, I relax for a little bit and go to bed early [previously, evenings were my get-things-done time]. Now I have more energy during the day to accomplish what I need to [and what I'm not able to accomplish, I'm better about letting go until the next day]. I think this is possibly the first time in five years [since having children, that is] that I feel well-rested.<br />
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Another vital reason this cleanse has worked for me is that I am <i>cleansing</i>, not fasting. Although I am careful to stop eating when I am comfortably full, I in no way deny myself nourishment. And what I eat is undoubtably deliciously satisfying. I'm eating plenty of protein (nuts, seeds, grass-fed meat, fish, eggs), although I have found I'm naturally eating less meat that before. I still have my beloved butter, plus delicious coconut oil and olive oil to help my veggies taste rich and satisfying (and did you know that the saturated fat in butter and coconut oil is essential for absorbing calcium and the fat-soluble vitamins [vit. A, D, E, K]?) And I have found that I really prefer to eat extra vegetables rather than a grain (rice, bread, etc.) with my meals. Another thing that is probably left out of most cleanses is salt, and rightly so because most salt is refined of minerals and full of additives (aluminum compounds, dextrose, bleaching agents. This information comes from<a href="http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/117835.Nourishing_Traditions" target="_blank"> </a><i><a href="http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/117835.Nourishing_Traditions" target="_blank">Nourishing Traditions</a></i> by Sally Fallon). Here we use an unrefined, <a href="http://realsalt.com/" target="_blank">natural sea salt </a>that is full of minerals and very nourishing. No need to be stingy with it.<br />
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In case you are curious what one of my cleansing meals looks like, here is a sample of the possibilities:<br />
<ul>
<li>grilled grass-fed pork chops; spring onions, garlic, little broccoli shoots, baby greens (kale, pac choi, spinach) and fresh oregano sauteed in butter and salt; "rainbow salad": grated carrot, sliced radish and celery, with dressing of apple cider vinegar, olive oil, and salt</li>
<li>grass-fed hamburger patty topped with guacamole; sauteed broccoli, spring greens, spring onions, and garlic</li>
<li>sauteed onions, garlic, sweet potato, broccoli, and carrots. Towards the end, add a touch of broth and ume plum vinegar. When done, stir in a can of sardines (or other fish) and chopped parsley</li>
<li>sardines (or other fish) on a bed of lettuce, watercress, parsley, and cilantro, with pumpkin and sunflower seeds and a dressing of olive oil, apple cider vinegar, and a touch of salt</li>
<li>one or two eggs gently fried in butter with sauteed garlic, mushrooms, and kale, garnished with chopped radishes and sliced avocado</li>
<li>add carrots, parsnip, and collard greens to a pot of cooked black eyed peas [with a splash of ume plum vinegar] to make a soup. Add sauteed onions and garlic. Puree part of the soup and mix back into the pot. Garnish with any or all of the following: pickled red cabbage, avocado, chopped parsley, grated carrots</li>
<li>cooked red lentils with spinach, garlic and a splash of apple cider vinegar, topped with an egg and avocado (I like this one for breakfast)</li>
<li>smoothies: coconut milk, banana, kiwi, frozen peaches, spirulina; or two bananas, kiwi, frozen blueberries and frozen cranberries, spirulina</li>
</ul>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5Hhu0Y91jjhYxrq6ekp-UuMpVgnXS09f-jo3WeeVv9n1Bu7t7oDMpZpnCFZ3JxLD0SME67BbIHkAWx0EE2G2SY2KBlAdFLqu94q81XlFGYo1mHXOllumPbzJsDrhH_NOeJ0Wlty-Q4ZLu/s1600/IMG_8172.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5Hhu0Y91jjhYxrq6ekp-UuMpVgnXS09f-jo3WeeVv9n1Bu7t7oDMpZpnCFZ3JxLD0SME67BbIHkAWx0EE2G2SY2KBlAdFLqu94q81XlFGYo1mHXOllumPbzJsDrhH_NOeJ0Wlty-Q4ZLu/s320/IMG_8172.jpg" width="213" /></a>As you can see, I've been eating deliciously well during this cleanse. Cutting out grains has inspired me to be more creative in the kitchen, and I've discovered many combinations that are becoming staples in our home. I am finding new ways of eating [and living] that serve me much better than my ways of old. This does not mean than in a few days time, when my three weeks are over, I will never eat a piece of bread again. Of course I will. But I've discovered that I don't need my daily toast with breakfast. I've discovered that when I'm needing a little treat, a spoonful of almond butter satisfies me just as much as something sweet. I've [re]discovered ways of nourishing myself truly and deeply. And I am feeling damn good [did I mention those eight hours of sleep??]. </div>
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May our blessings continue on. </div>
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*Gratitude*</div>
healingfemininehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10795202701921357678noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-339493628284720128.post-54786810015579270012013-04-21T09:06:00.002-07:002013-04-21T22:05:28.730-07:00Spring CleaningThe farther I walk this path of mine, the more I recognize it as a path of healing.<br />
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I first learned about my passion for healing through my love of food. After graduating from a very expensive liberal college, I discovered what I really wanted to study: nutrition. I enrolled in a holistic nutrition course, became a certified Nutrition Educator, and plunged into my passion for healthy food.<br />
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Through the course of my learning, I became enlightened to the idea of cleansing: giving the body a break from digestion in order to release accumulated toxins. The body, just like the earth, has an innate ability for self healing, if only we give it the time and space. My interest led me to juice fasts, where I would eat fruits and vegetables for a week, followed by a few days of nothing but juice and broth. Even though I liked the idea cleansing and the results I felt in my body, I wasn't really crazy about the whole not eating part. But I did it, because I was young and wild and just like that. </div>
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Fast forward five years [during which I was either pregnant or breastfeeding or both and therefore not cleansing] and my body feels like I'm carrying around some extra sludge. Not to mention that the life of a mother has caused me to loosen up on my formerly uber healthy habits. I have been looking forward to this spring as a time not only to cleanse, but also to realign myself with nourishing practices [the regrowth of spring after the dormancy of winter makes it an excellent time for cleansing]. And now the time is here!</div>
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I have moved past the point in my life when juice fasting would support me. This time around, I am not looking to fast, I am looking to cleanse. This is how I am supporting and assisting my body during its spring cleaning:</div>
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1. The main element, of course, is diet. I'm following the recommendations of my awesome <a href="http://www.nwhealing.com/pract/dnixdorf.php" target="_blank">naturopathic doctor</a>, who has me on an anti-inflammatory diet. This is how it goes:<br />
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NO </div>
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<ul>
<li>sugar or sweeteners of any kind</li>
<li>caffeine</li>
<li>dairy (mucous-forming and thus anti-cleansing) </li>
<li>grains (wheat, spelt, oats, rice, millet, quinoa, etc. - difficult to digest and mucous-forming)</li>
</ul>
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YES </div>
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<ul>
<li>legumes (lentils, black eyed peas, black beans, kidney beans, mung beans, garbanzo beans, etc., soaked overnight and slowly cooked with a piece of kombu seaweed for best digestion)</li>
<li>grass-fed meat and cold water fish (wild salmon, halibut, sardines, tuna, cod) </li>
<li>organic fats and cold-pressed oils: butter, coconut oil, olive oil, sesame oil</li>
<li>seeds and nuts except peanuts [I use raw seeds/nuts that I soak overnight then slowly roast for best digestion]</li>
<li>fruit [except for citrus other than lemon and lime, and going light on high sugar fruits like dates and figs]</li>
<li>lots and lots and lots of vegetables [except tomatoes and potatoes, which can be inflammatory]</li>
<li>I'm also going big on broths [homemade], particularly <a href="http://wellnessmama.com/5888/how-to-make-bone-broth-tutorial/" target="_blank">bone broths</a>, which are an amazing source of easily assimilated nutrients </li>
</ul>
2. In addition to my diet, I'm taking some supplements to aid in digestion and cleansing. These include:<br />
<ul>
<li>one teaspoon of apple cider vinegar in water before meals to stimulate digestion</li>
<li>alternated with an ounce of aloe vera juice 30 minutes before eating to enhance digestion and assimilation</li>
<li>probiotics to enhance my intestinal flora (protects against disease, aids in digestion)</li>
<li>one teaspoon of fish oil daily (anti-inflammatory and all around amazing)</li>
</ul>
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2. Herbal teas are also a huge part of my cleanse. Herbs not only assist in cleansing, but they also nourish key cleansing organs, such as the liver and the kidneys. Back in the day I liked to make all my own tea blends, but for convenience sake I'm utilizing packaged teas from some really awesome companies. I am loving the Every Day Detox by <a href="http://www.traditionalmedicinals.com/" target="_blank">Traditional Medicinals </a>(the main ingredient is schisandra berry, plus dandelion root, chicory root, licorice, ginger, and a few others) and Tulsi Cleanse from <a href="http://www.organicindia.com/" target="_blank">Organic India</a> (Holy basil, ginger, turmeric, and some others). My tea time is not only a time to drink my tea, but also a time for me to sit, relax, and breathe. </div>
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3. Which brings me to another important element of my cleanse: relaxing, sitting, and breathing. And sleeping. A very important part of cleansing, and one that I'm sure gets overlooked in our busy lives, is resting. The body needs rest in order to cleanse itself. I am making sleep a priority [minimum of 8 hours a night], as well as taking time during the day to sit, relax, and breathe consciously (deeply, meditatively). Deep breathing is an important pathway for releasing not only physical toxins, but also energetic stagnation. I am frequently practicing the movements I call the <a href="http://thehealingfeminine.blogspot.com/2012/10/the-warm-up.html" target="_blank">warm-up</a>. I am making walks in the woods a priority, meditating in sacred places a priority, sitting and enjoying the beauty around me a priority. I get my work done, but I'm not letting it rule me.</div>
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4. There are a few other ways I am supporting my body during its cleansing. These include dry skin brushing, castor oil packs, and oil pulling. <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JoTBP_WJy9E" target="_blank">Dry skin brushing </a>is exactly what it sounds like: brushing your skin, when dry, with a brush like those you use in the bath. Starting with my feet, I brush my whole body, stroking towards the heart. This stimulates the lymphatic system, which is the body's cleansing system. I do it before bed, as the lymphatic system is most active at night. <br />
A <a href="http://rootnaturalhealth.wordpress.com/2011/01/01/castor-oil-packs-are-good-for-liver-detoxification-and-lymphatic-circulation/" target="_blank">castor oil pack </a>is a flannel cloth that has been saturated with castor oil and placed over the liver (right side of abdomen, under rib cage). A hot water bottle is placed over the pack to help with the absorption of oil. The castor oil stimulates the liver to release toxins and the lymphatic system to clean them up. I've been doing it morning and night for 20 minutes. <br />
<a href="http://www.ict-energyschool.com/ICT/GrassrootsBlog/Entries/2011/3/15_The_Benefits_of_Oil_Pulling_with_Essential_Oils.html" target="_blank">Oil pulling</a> stems from an ancient Aryuvedic practice. It also stimulates the lymphatic system and enzymes in the mouth to cleanse toxic bacteria out of the body. It involves swishing oil around in the mouth for 20 minutes, which soaks up the toxins, and then spitting out the oil [follow the link for more detailed instructions. In fact, follow all the links. They're very informative and helpful].<br />
Oh yes, there is one more thing I'm going to do - today, in fact. I'm going to get a <a href="http://www.corvalliscolonics.com/" target="_blank">colonic</a>. The large intestine, with all it's little twists and turns, can get clogged up with nasty debris. A colonic uses water to flush out all those little crevices, cleaning the intestine. I got one about six years ago, and it was actually an enjoyable experience. Our intestines need love, too!<br />
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So that is basically my cleansing regimen. My cleanse is going to last three weeks, and I'm on my sixth day. The first couple days were rough, mostly because I had a constant headache from lack of caffeine. But now, I'm starting to feel pretty good. My head can feel a little fuzzy and I definitely get tired, but I take that as my signal to rest. To be honest, I have an underlying feeling that's amazing. Since the <a href="http://thehealingfeminine.blogspot.com/2012/12/flowing-in-new-year.html" target="_blank">Winter Solstice</a>, I have been working really hard on cleansing myself energetically - releasing old, stagnant, negative patterns and welcoming in new patterns that better support me. With this cleanse, I feel the physical manifestations of that stagnant energy releasing from my body, and I am filling with fresh, cleansed energy. I feel more connected than ever to the amazing energy of the universe; I feel more connected to my love, joy, and gratitude. I am reminded that I can create myself anew in any given moment: every moment is an opportunity for me to live as my highest self, to choose to be Who I Really Am [Spirit incarnated into this earthly life]. This cleanse is certainly the most powerful I've ever done, as I am now aware enough to combine physical cleansing with energetic cleansing. I am the caterpillar emerging from my cocoon, shedding that which no longer serves me and stepping into my true radiance.<br />
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I invite you to join me. We are in powerful times right now, and the energy is there to assist you in your own transformation. This is the time to release the old stories we tell ourselves, those stories that no longer hold truth. It is time to release ourselves from all that which no longer serves us. It is time to be brave. It is time to remember our true selves, to walk forth together into love and healing. There is really nothing else that is more important.<br />
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I bless you on your journey. I will continue to share the blessings of mine.<br />
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*Gratitude*</div>
healingfemininehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10795202701921357678noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-339493628284720128.post-36133019799019849382013-04-06T16:05:00.000-07:002013-04-06T16:05:29.590-07:00Spring Happy<br />
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Spring is happy.<br />
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As I step out into the early morning, the coast range mist giving way to early light, the symphony of birds gives rise to joy deep in my being. Breathing in the fresh air, I ground myself to the damp earth from which the flowers bloom. The ducks are quacking to be let out, and Xango ("shango") the rooster must be driving the chickens crazy with all his crowing. After collecting the blue, tan and brown eggs the chickens have left us, I feed <a href="http://thehealingfeminine.blogspot.com/2013/03/harold-and-avalon.html" target="_blank">Harold and Avalon</a>. The barn gets mucked out, and Rosie the broody hen gets some love. Always I am accompanied by my helpers, Yasmina and <a href="http://thehealingfeminine.blogspot.com/2013/01/love-is-bella.html" target="_blank">Bella</a>. Looking in the greenhouse and around the garden, I see the cabbage and the kale are ready to transplant, the broccoli, spinach, peas, onions, and beets are doing very well, and some early beans and zucchini have sprouted. Surges of energy rush through my body as my hands eagerly anticipate digging in the earth. Oh yes, spring is very, very happy!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3Lo3eF1u_YHLtL1Na4bzMdNc_6OrN7JNbzummsHGb1k1fxGpFp7qZhFW33BePaLXF0_Ht0-XrDxQHE4QJ4iJ8O58IaLwhYPuWOiOW0lyQgXGJqxsp0tF9sFK_0pcsAm0T4eTaawYNB9-I/s1600/IMG_7967.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="421" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3Lo3eF1u_YHLtL1Na4bzMdNc_6OrN7JNbzummsHGb1k1fxGpFp7qZhFW33BePaLXF0_Ht0-XrDxQHE4QJ4iJ8O58IaLwhYPuWOiOW0lyQgXGJqxsp0tF9sFK_0pcsAm0T4eTaawYNB9-I/s640/IMG_7967.JPG" width="640" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKE30FnacFxI7nTyU0ukbCK-ILalp3Li_4I8_EgRH-S7MqO_l_kE0gP9_IKSfe66OUu3JDM2N-9i3iwVkZPMHsvxwByt_Hj8NkpgMnIKAEbhuN_PQxVYOsypme8uxCf3eTn8_Oz4MraMP8/s1600/IMG_7982.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="423" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKE30FnacFxI7nTyU0ukbCK-ILalp3Li_4I8_EgRH-S7MqO_l_kE0gP9_IKSfe66OUu3JDM2N-9i3iwVkZPMHsvxwByt_Hj8NkpgMnIKAEbhuN_PQxVYOsypme8uxCf3eTn8_Oz4MraMP8/s640/IMG_7982.JPG" width="640" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG7Ff6WrjGHY9NUHBLYaoas-7XrKXb_zYo_e-iCPdDyBvKPjit3iL2Jfm4LSCuqPOUrV0QTmbxxrxzZRDt8h38hT1ElGkOGCM7yACMdBDwah_LH_f2wyFHjQ9jF2d3ORxoRHjl4qHuLqNr/s1600/IMG_7975.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG7Ff6WrjGHY9NUHBLYaoas-7XrKXb_zYo_e-iCPdDyBvKPjit3iL2Jfm4LSCuqPOUrV0QTmbxxrxzZRDt8h38hT1ElGkOGCM7yACMdBDwah_LH_f2wyFHjQ9jF2d3ORxoRHjl4qHuLqNr/s640/IMG_7975.jpg" width="423" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbW56qZCVeSIRTGS2clVOLVqYG_xzqVAo3MRveA4FgOBd2iK0u1M0p7Y6adqYhVnLLx3MKzh4ktd2ObAor56D6i_8OVfHQ4EjCNT2SMcE2FW6xRD2QlBTYYBdw3aWXqqvBhX-cQ6TgSxiW/s1600/IMG_7995.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="423" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbW56qZCVeSIRTGS2clVOLVqYG_xzqVAo3MRveA4FgOBd2iK0u1M0p7Y6adqYhVnLLx3MKzh4ktd2ObAor56D6i_8OVfHQ4EjCNT2SMcE2FW6xRD2QlBTYYBdw3aWXqqvBhX-cQ6TgSxiW/s640/IMG_7995.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEis8u10QxHQyFcbgW_HvvyuRT2it9IS6Axnyo7q1oSEu1gAzn_K_en5pn2_DgkM8Lp0Var66i82zyKOQqn8f9geKIIA49vRpAkya7ozgEuq1nwN77JLHqRFR45CLMbxvj2L3gdxQPoZasWg/s1600/IMG_8000.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEis8u10QxHQyFcbgW_HvvyuRT2it9IS6Axnyo7q1oSEu1gAzn_K_en5pn2_DgkM8Lp0Var66i82zyKOQqn8f9geKIIA49vRpAkya7ozgEuq1nwN77JLHqRFR45CLMbxvj2L3gdxQPoZasWg/s640/IMG_8000.jpg" width="421" /></a>And busy. Very, very busy. In years past I have let the busyness overtake me and make me crazy. But not this year. This year I will flow through the season with serenity and grace, doing what I can, releasing what's not important, and simplifying the rest. I am keeping my perspective wide open: I do all that I do because I love it, and I will not let that love turn into [silly, senseless] stress. I will prioritize that which brings me joy, and I will remember to take time out from "doing" for just "being." I will be still. I will breathe deeply. I will welcome my gratitude and enjoy the multitude of blessings that are my life.<br />
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At least, that's what I'm striving for. I'll let you know how it goes.<br />
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Many blessings, my friends. The garden is calling!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9hUykYXGXuY5pK3p8nKLXRDt8zkHqddv4rkqix2llOibf8q1qnUNZuNUgkHN8pQE8Fr3kRsfO5dygpAIf4k7zo7LXoITuyhr3fcMO0pF6yTSJUw2_ipNfk1qnrgYvK36_XLWuHX17vHqX/s1600/IMG_8006.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="423" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9hUykYXGXuY5pK3p8nKLXRDt8zkHqddv4rkqix2llOibf8q1qnUNZuNUgkHN8pQE8Fr3kRsfO5dygpAIf4k7zo7LXoITuyhr3fcMO0pF6yTSJUw2_ipNfk1qnrgYvK36_XLWuHX17vHqX/s640/IMG_8006.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />healingfemininehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10795202701921357678noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-339493628284720128.post-23954950919585313762013-03-24T22:24:00.002-07:002013-03-24T22:24:08.600-07:00All Tangled UpI intended to write this post four days ago, for the Spring Equinox. I intended to write about the eggs we decorated and put out on the deck for the wild birds to hide in the yard for us to find. I intended to share the story of the birthday party we threw for the Earth on this first day of Spring, this day known to some as Ostara. I meant to write about the chocolate birthday cake we made and our first spring harvest of nettles for the celebratory frittata. I intended to tell you about all these things, and more. But alas, I have been distracted... (Read <a href="http://thehealingfeminine.blogspot.com/2012/03/happy-ostara-spring-equinox.html" target="_blank">this post</a> if you are curious about how we celebrated Ostara, or the Spring Equinox, last year.)<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVTr7Je4MN_xeQn098EgvI3dEjzEGfWPrrHQRSKux66lJ4KOCg4ypTdQVmtJwPccA5uzajHE86frNgUFKY6RqC0PyQ8CwwSg-m3NCBMK3HHYfa8tykuKH7K_S44i9EaJ5G1yMM9tvcWIyy/s1600/IMG_7881.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVTr7Je4MN_xeQn098EgvI3dEjzEGfWPrrHQRSKux66lJ4KOCg4ypTdQVmtJwPccA5uzajHE86frNgUFKY6RqC0PyQ8CwwSg-m3NCBMK3HHYfa8tykuKH7K_S44i9EaJ5G1yMM9tvcWIyy/s640/IMG_7881.JPG" width="640" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGh5rB6XAk4TRNhfjl6DYwwrCgOhkF2L2-SqUfqbFRgbuEaGPYlr4_LaH6DIOgI_IBRyz1ufgEDoIDS85890FCpge2T8GNXpCaJ-R4rAzk3a6kBZbi9AJmcXAzx33qLpcPL9f2dmEalqQC/s1600/IMG_4696.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGh5rB6XAk4TRNhfjl6DYwwrCgOhkF2L2-SqUfqbFRgbuEaGPYlr4_LaH6DIOgI_IBRyz1ufgEDoIDS85890FCpge2T8GNXpCaJ-R4rAzk3a6kBZbi9AJmcXAzx33qLpcPL9f2dmEalqQC/s640/IMG_4696.jpg" width="426" /></a></div>
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I was in the art store, fingering the journals. Looking for the perfect one. As I was doing so, the books on the shelf above the journals distracted me. The art in these books immediately grabbed my attention. My mind grew very still and my heart beat a little faster as I became totally absorbed. Yes, yes, yes!! my soul cried out. I bought not one but two journals and not one but four (!!) books. I was excited (and armed with a credit card), what can I say. It was only the afternoon, but already I couldn't wait for the kids to go to bed.<br />
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When they were finally asleep, sweet dreams drifting down through their dreamcatchers, I opened my books, uncapped my new pen, and cracked open my journal. And I began to tangle.<br />
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The art form I had stumbled upon is apparently all the rage. It is called <a href="http://www.zentangle.com/" target="_blank">Zentangle</a>. Zentangle is a method of drawing based on the use of patterns that may at first appear complicated, but are actually simple once broken down. My books claim that Zentangle will put you in a focused, meditative state that will reduce stress and inspire creativity. And I must say, I totally agree.<br />
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Making art used to be one of the cornerstones of my life. Mixed media collages and art journaling were the flames of my fire, and I would create on a daily basis. Enter children, and my days of prolific art making fluttered right out the window (those dang children!! Messing up everything.)<br />
[just kidding. They're totally worth it.]<br />
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Here's a little sample of some of my journal pages from days past:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsBOXqqm7hmymDwER1kPOL61qWYgXKRZNEqldX3572u7yw-MxyFQgECLZmQuF0cMzP4ErqHN6OFQh-LveFKlzOwxAV1ZVlqDA0MG-oFaUsxYbLyYNeZrhuu5yFFLioPt7AUiWmL974_xac/s1600/IMG_7928.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="312" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsBOXqqm7hmymDwER1kPOL61qWYgXKRZNEqldX3572u7yw-MxyFQgECLZmQuF0cMzP4ErqHN6OFQh-LveFKlzOwxAV1ZVlqDA0MG-oFaUsxYbLyYNeZrhuu5yFFLioPt7AUiWmL974_xac/s640/IMG_7928.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh59mPOVdAr10M8jtpLpa00QMybkfH9SGm3qL-vcHdhZUGqarqCmdeJ7YK-CBF2j0L7QiirbpBFVkecVx09YG1e7BcmH7L4dlx_AhIJQxUWDBu09_v2pNWwLx9C5Dz3h_J9Vs1Ru2hDeipA/s1600/IMG_7930.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh59mPOVdAr10M8jtpLpa00QMybkfH9SGm3qL-vcHdhZUGqarqCmdeJ7YK-CBF2j0L7QiirbpBFVkecVx09YG1e7BcmH7L4dlx_AhIJQxUWDBu09_v2pNWwLx9C5Dz3h_J9Vs1Ru2hDeipA/s640/IMG_7930.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaP172cO68bgGAgNRabL9_9FImpVb5pZxgjMrxDAOzVTv5UCG7zbpAAu4dRtW9vu_0yHZaTJJ4QXJg4mGtWhD47E9JZCqxksIvJJ76SFZuU4dONrhGxWPCkDkA4fmLRS_rTjXET0xnxosp/s1600/IMG_7935.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaP172cO68bgGAgNRabL9_9FImpVb5pZxgjMrxDAOzVTv5UCG7zbpAAu4dRtW9vu_0yHZaTJJ4QXJg4mGtWhD47E9JZCqxksIvJJ76SFZuU4dONrhGxWPCkDkA4fmLRS_rTjXET0xnxosp/s640/IMG_7935.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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See how colorful those pictures are, all the layers? All the creativity? Well, these days the energy that used to go into those pretty pictures is now redirected elsewhere. I still keep a journal, but the entries are mostly writing, and even those don't happen too often. But now that I have discovered this little tangling thing, all that is changing...<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My second was already much better</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My first go at Zentangle</td></tr>
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I can sit for a minute or ten or sixty, armed only with a pen, and draw. The drawings, simple on their own, create a beautifully holistic image. And it is true that focusing on one small stroke at a time helps me feel more centered and calm. And the finished product gives me a ridiculous amount of satisfaction.<br />
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So I would like to tell you more, but I'm sorry. My journal is calling...<br />
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*Blessings*healingfemininehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10795202701921357678noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-339493628284720128.post-18540294885997215782013-03-17T21:21:00.001-07:002013-03-17T21:38:47.798-07:00End of Day1. The kids were asleep tonight by 7:48. Lingering light illuminated the clear sky, a sliver of a moon shone down. Bats flitted overhead, and the "whoop whoop whoop whoop" of a snipe sounded over the amplified song of the frogs. I sat on the deck, wrapped in a blanket.<br />
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2. My new favorite thing is the 20 minute afternoon rest (for mama). While the kids are watching something on the computer, I crawl into bed. I close my eyes, and although I don't actually sleep, I reach a very relaxed state. At least, I don't think I'm sleeping but then I suddenly feel myself waking up from that transitional place of wakeful sleep [or sleepful wake, perhaps]. Usually this makes me feel amazing, and my energy is renewed enough to carry on with the rest of the day. Today, however, I wake up grumpy.<br />
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3. If ever in doubt, go for a walk. Preferably to a place enchanted by fairies, where the sweep of sword ferns are broken only by a soft carpet of lush moss. Where cities of mushrooms abound, where the sunlight shining down through lichen covered maples illuminates one sacred grove after another. Where mamas can delight children by finding abandoned schatzi shells: treasure. Gifts from the Beloved. Enchantment of fairies.<br />
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4. Earlier today, Jai went over to help Grandpa in his greenhouse. Yasmina and I stayed to work in our greenhouse. Mustard, pac choi, kale, radishes, and an early experiment of beans went into the soil, as well as marigold and echinacea seeds saved from last year. As we were working, I heard a slam on the window and looked up to see the robin who had flown into it, writhing on the ground. By the way she was tumbling and crazy rolling, I thought she must have broken her neck. But she calmed as I approached, and once in my hands, she appeared unharmed. Breathing heavily, she had no desire to fly away. As she perched on my finger, Yasmina petted her and gave her love and helped me send her healing energy through our hands. I envisioned her flying away. We put her in a cat carrier in the barn [to rest] and went back to our work. Later, we came back and opened the door to her cage. She looked at us a moment, then flew away without warning.<br />
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5. The night air is cold, but my blanket is warm. As I breathe in the light of the moon, I see her energy traveling down through my body, warming my chakras. With this downward motion, I release the stagnant energy inside me. A wispy cloud darkens the moon. I continue to breathe in the energy of the night and to release unneeded energy. When I open my eyes, the cloud has passed and the moon is clear. New moon.<br />
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6. I put all my babies to bed. I kiss my sleeping children, sending glowing love down into their little bodies. The ducks are in their house, Yansa in the east, Oxum ["oshoon"] in the south, Iemanja in the west. Beaks tucked under wings. The chickens, too, are roosting in their coop. Goosey Loosey, a big black hen, is not sitting on her nest. Perhaps she has not gone broody after all.<br />
I don't turn my flashlight on as I enter the barn. It is almost pitch black, and I must reach out to find the horses. Soft muzzles, delicious horse sent. I hold Avalon's head in my arms, then I lean into Harold, cradling his neck. Bella waits for me outside. I bury my face in her baby fluff as she gnaws a bone. She is not ready to go inside yet. I am, and I find it warm and illuminated.<br />
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*Blessings*<br />
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<br />healingfemininehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10795202701921357678noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-339493628284720128.post-38290208585289463712013-03-06T21:41:00.000-08:002013-03-06T21:41:07.676-08:00Harold and AvalonYesterday morning the sun rays, shining through the trees at the edge of the forest, illuminated the white frost coating the stalks of last year's grass. It was cold, very cold, but with the promise of the warm day it would become. Yasmina and I were in the barn, and my being was infused with joy. I was cleaning out horse poop.<br />
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In all my years of animal and child care, I have cleaned up a lot of poop. And I don't think I've ever enjoyed it as much as I did that morning. Yes, I was cleaning horse poop out of our barn. Poop from our own horses.<br />
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Our own horses!<br />
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[I've been riding horses since I was in the womb. Love for them runs in my blood. As a girl, horses were what I lived for. But it has been a long time since then. And even though my parents still have three horses and we sometimes ride our neighbor's horse, it's not the same as having horses to call my own. I feel like I've come home.]<br />
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Avalon is a small, brown mare with a blaze of white down her face. She is a wise and old soul, a keeper of the children. Harold is white and regal. He is Spirit incarnated. I am still in awe that they now live here with us.<br />
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The whole story is the sweetest blessing from the universe. It started with Leanne, a true horse whisperer if there ever was one. Although she loved Harold and Avalon deeply [or perhaps because of it], she felt that her beloved horses were being called elsewhere. Her work left little time for them, and Avalon needed children to love. It was a hard decision, but in the end Leanne decided to see if there was another family that could love them as much as she did.<br />
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That's when we enter the story. Three days after I got the official ok from Anthony to look for a horse, I found the listing for Avalon on Craigslist. I knew immediately that I had found something good. Avalon was a 21 year old Morgan mare, and she sounded like the ultimate kids horse. She was not just for sale; she was looking for the possibility of a new home. I wrote to her, mentioning that for the time being, she would be an only horse, but that we would ultimately be looking for one more.<br />
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When Leanne replied, she mentioned that she had a second horse whom she was considering selling if the right home could be found. She sent me the link to his Craigslist listing.<br />
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As I looked at the pictures of Harold, chills ran up and down my arms. His story brought tears to my eyes.<br />
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Seven years ago, Harold was in bad condition from an undiagnosed neck injury that had begun to badly affect his legs. Hardly able to walk, he was on his way to the slaughterhouse. A friend of Leanne's told her about this <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Azteca_horse" target="_blank">Azteca</a> gelding who had been a national champion, and Leanne immediately rescued him. She spent the next six months rehabilitating Harold [King Harold, he likes to be called] with massage, chiropractic work, herbs, and her own healing energy and intuition. Today, Harold can still have "bad" days when his legs are stiff, but he still has years of spunk, energy, and love to give. How blessed we are to now be the recipients!<br />
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The night Leanne wrote me about Harold, I replied that although we still needed to meet the horses, I felt incredibly excited about our home being the perfect place for Harold and Avalon to live out the rest of their days. We <a href="http://thehealingfeminine.blogspot.com/2013/02/coming-home-is-awesome.html" target="_blank">drove up to Washington</a> to meet them, and I immediately knew. We had found our horses.<br />
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And now, here I am. Filled with gratitude to watch my little girl beaming down from the back of Harold, saying, "I a cowboy!" Filled with the joy mirrored on my son's face as he rides Avalon through the field. And as for myself, today I took Harold out on our first ride alone together, up in the woods I've ridden through since I was a girl. Many years have passed since the last time I did this, but I still remember what to do. My body relaxes into the rhythm of his stride as the rain falls gently upon us. Avalon calls to us from the field, and Harold hesitates, wanting to return to her. It takes but the lightest touch to urge him forward again. When we do head home, he is filled with excitement. His nose is tucked, neck arched, dancing hooves on the forest path, body shaking as he whinnys to Avalon.<br />
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This is where I'm supposed to be. It's like coming home.<br />
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Thank you Leanne. Thank you, thank you, thank you.<br />
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*Blessings*healingfemininehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10795202701921357678noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-339493628284720128.post-27624952617956952102013-02-27T21:27:00.000-08:002013-02-27T21:27:19.251-08:00The Return<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmRGusgN-KsWjvrx2eYzVHPVyJ4RQi7G5wHP4rwseZ7JNB40xrKlB-86fcXCpPihX0k_qw5z4Wha7EVvg9wYAkSw-I7AGDD67rX-4VGDQw1g5Fv3ItdNRhnGGy-qw0A4mwnIS9H06LjqpE/s1600/IMG_7690.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmRGusgN-KsWjvrx2eYzVHPVyJ4RQi7G5wHP4rwseZ7JNB40xrKlB-86fcXCpPihX0k_qw5z4Wha7EVvg9wYAkSw-I7AGDD67rX-4VGDQw1g5Fv3ItdNRhnGGy-qw0A4mwnIS9H06LjqpE/s320/IMG_7690.JPG" width="320" /></a>I have been dreaming.<br />
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Sometimes I float through life as in a dream. An incredible, demanding, joyous dream. I must go outside and feel the earth to keep grounded. This is Winter, the coldness reminds me; the time of dreaming. Dreaming of what's to come. Dreaming of what to next create.<br />
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But slowly, ever so slowly, I am awakening. The energy is stirring down in the earth, pushing tentatively upwards, like the daffodils through the cold soil. Buds are forming on trees, the bright green of new growth appears in my vision.<br />
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In my desire to turn chaos to order, these times of transition inspire me to organize and cleanse my home. Cleaning out the cobwebs and the dust and the clutter and that which is no longer needed, I bring harmony to my worlds, both outer and inner. And reading <a href="http://www.mysticmamma.com/mercury-retrograde-february-24th-to-march-17th-2013/" target="_blank">this article </a>from Mystic Mamma [my favorite - be sure to check it out] about Mercury in Retrograde connects the energy I'm feeling all around me to that which is swirling in the cosmos. As above so below.<br />
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According to the insightful and wise counsel of those quoted at <a href="http://www.mysticmamma.com/" target="_blank">Mystic Mamma</a>, Mercury in Retrograde is an excellent time to engage in "re-" activities. And that is exactly what I find myself doing.<br />
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*Reorganizing</div>
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I have been staying up late, moving things around my home. Rearranging, rethinking. Making piles to be passed on to someone else. Creating space. Our <a href="http://thehealingfeminine.blogspot.com/2013/02/coming-home-is-awesome.html" target="_blank">little chimney fire</a> has instigated change [and a bit of chaos], but now I'm looking around with pleasure at the outcome of transition [even though our new propane heater can't quite match the warmth of our wood stove]. Blessings. Life gives us the tools for creation.</div>
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*Realizing and Releasing </div>
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Outside, I have been pruning my fruit trees and blueberry bushes. I cut off what is not needed, redirecting the plant's energy into healthy regrowth. Similar work is happening in my inner garden. Over the dark months of winter I have developed a rhythm or two that need pruning. I realize that what once served me is currently not needed. It is time to take my cue from the full moon and release, time to redirect my energy into healthy regrowth.</div>
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*Renew and Rejoice<br />
Spring is coming. The time of rebirth is just around the corner. What do I need to renew my Self? [Nourishment. Sleep. Quiet. Being outside. And a bit of creativity here and there.] And the sunshine, how I soak up the sunshine at every opportunity. I rejoice to hear the frogs and the red wing blackbirds and the two-toned whistle of the varied thrush. The winter wren sings a fairy song of spring.</div>
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*Reflect</div>
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My perspective, although in a constant state of opening, is still relatively small. I weave the pieces of this and that into the grand tapestry of life, whole and beautiful. As I reflect on the path my life has taken me, full of blessing and wonder, I can only humbly surrender to the magic of it all. I overflow with gratitude.<br />
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*Realign and Remember</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7_yK5L11sGEKDhLfooOINxsLZ6MD-fqOD9wpPeRQEZwRf0u07QfudDIvc0Y0FOXtoOg0wZ2dgiepGMMcFx_jAUcvS58I77pmg-M9EhR-PgEuhB6c4pZ6RKcHNgZjeXo8haLPr-OODovy0/s1600/IMG_7750.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="162" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7_yK5L11sGEKDhLfooOINxsLZ6MD-fqOD9wpPeRQEZwRf0u07QfudDIvc0Y0FOXtoOg0wZ2dgiepGMMcFx_jAUcvS58I77pmg-M9EhR-PgEuhB6c4pZ6RKcHNgZjeXo8haLPr-OODovy0/s320/IMG_7750.JPG" width="320" /></a>It's so easy [for me, at least] to get a little lost as I try to keep up with the forward motion of my days. I can easily get caught in the small stresses of daily life: a sink full of dishes, a rug that desperately needs vacuuming, children running around without coats or hats [or, if you're Yasmina, running around the garden completely naked {in February, mind you} stealing duck eggs and covered in mud from head to toe.] I have to keep bringing myself back to center, reminding myself to perceive with my Spirit eye. I have to remember to hold still and breathe deep, to honor my blessings and to release my gratitude. I realign myself with my highest intentions as I remember who I really am: Spirit incarnated into this messy, beautiful, crazy, awesome life. Let me be a portal of love down to this earth.</div>
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Dreaming. Let's all keep dreaming.</div>
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*Gratitude*</div>
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healingfemininehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10795202701921357678noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-339493628284720128.post-89081401285995219522013-02-18T21:45:00.000-08:002013-02-18T21:45:14.829-08:00Coming Home is AwesomeWe had an epic weekend.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNVWSOHrS-c9MsjTsmm7bMfBe3DIhVvVVfATOvi3gQu6nxQu2qC4Hkt4sdKOO6upKEzrdjahSO1uNKgGLZqNzNUHUl0ktcbJeE_StA62BuluX1F7aafxk9vSgBG1ku0MK0dARVxDWFfdsm/s1600/IMG_7617.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNVWSOHrS-c9MsjTsmm7bMfBe3DIhVvVVfATOvi3gQu6nxQu2qC4Hkt4sdKOO6upKEzrdjahSO1uNKgGLZqNzNUHUl0ktcbJeE_StA62BuluX1F7aafxk9vSgBG1ku0MK0dARVxDWFfdsm/s400/IMG_7617.JPG" width="400" /></a>It all started on Thursday, Valentine's Day. Anthony was working, so the kids and I went to the coast with my parents. It was as beautiful a day on the Oregon coast as you can expect to get in February [sunny, a bit windy, cold]. It was just enough to get our toes wet and to build a big sand castle before eating at our <a href="http://www.localocean.net/" target="_blank">favorite Newport restaurant. </a>We came home, I put the kids to bed and then took Bella outside.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiq2SK4taXjP-J9dUh-DFBSl_BRSe0AOX-o9pzBlEBTZjbIhl0zNN-viiJCsvROMBKr7xqltwqoQ7x-20Y4SKF8yaVxLmjtdsmT8BLsCyqtC-dJYjX8sVXF8YT9wyjZHtkwgNoobsvbYqUQ/s1600/IMG_7612.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiq2SK4taXjP-J9dUh-DFBSl_BRSe0AOX-o9pzBlEBTZjbIhl0zNN-viiJCsvROMBKr7xqltwqoQ7x-20Y4SKF8yaVxLmjtdsmT8BLsCyqtC-dJYjX8sVXF8YT9wyjZHtkwgNoobsvbYqUQ/s320/IMG_7612.JPG" width="320" /></a>And that's when I noticed the sparks and flames coming out of the top of our chimney.<br />
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No big deal. I called my dad to come look at it, we let the fire in the stove go out, and the flames and sparks in the chimney disappeared. So I went to bed.<br />
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1. At 12:40 I wake up to the fire alarm upstairs [thank sweet fate that Anthony had told me to put one up there, and that I had listened]. I go up, see smoke and a glowing chimney, and notice that there's a small fire burning in the floor. I run for some water and put it out.<br />
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2. I call my dad. He comes over, and we quickly realize pouring a glass of water down the chimney ain't gonna cut it. We get the hose.<br />
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3. My dad is barefoot and clinging to the steep roof. The hose is down the chimney, and smoke is bellowing out. We decide to call the fire department. Naturally, my firefighting husband is at work and not at home to fight his own fire. I leave my dad to our volunteer firefighters as I wake the kids and take them and the puppy to my parents' house.<br />
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4. My mom escapes upstairs to try to sleep as the kids and I take over her bed. We watch movies and eat pretzels until about 3:30 am, when we finally fall asleep.<br />
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5. In the morning, I go over to check out the damage in the house. Anthony had come home in the middle of the night, just as the firefighters were finishing up. He stayed up until 5:30 cleaning, so he was still sleeping when I got there.<br />
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6. We were incredibly blessed to have the most minimal damage possible happen to our house. The fire had stayed contained in the chimney [except for the small spot in the floor I had found], and the water that put it out had only seeped into the kitchen. My dad and then Anthony both did heroic work in cleaning it up.<br />
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7. I then left our cold [because we can't use the stove anymore], damp, dirty, and messy house in care of Anthony. The kids, my mom and I packed up the puppy and some clothes and headed up to Portland. We were on a very important mission.<br />
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8. After spending a warm and sunny afternoon at a Portland park, we spent the night at my grandparents' house. This was not the main focus of our mission.<br />
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9. The next morning, we packed ourselves up again and headed into the Columbia River Gorge, to the little town of Carson, WA. In the parking lot of Carson's General Store and Post Office, we met up with my brother, Tio Capo, who lives 20 minutes away in White Salmon. We drove for a few more minutes before turning up a long driveway, leading to a large, covered arena.<br />
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10. We met Leanne. She brought out Harold and Avalon. Mina immediately wanted to ride Harold. Jai immediately did not want to ride anybody. Avalon eventually won him over.<br />
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11. We were all won over. We are all in love.<br />
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12. [There is more on this to come.]<br />
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13. We spent the rest of the lovely weekend checking out White Salmon with my lovely brother.<br />
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14. On our way home from the Gorge, we stopped in Portland to play at the park one more time. We also visited Anthony at the fire station.<br />
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15. We got home late. The house was completely clean. My dad had put a heater in every room, and it was warm. He had homemade macaroni and cheese waiting for us. I was filled with immense gratitude.<br />
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16. The kids went to bed. I went to bed a little later. We all dreamt of horses: a small brown mare with a white blaze on her face [Jai] and a tall white [Spirit] king of a horse [Mina] [and mama mama mama....]<br />
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<br />healingfemininehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10795202701921357678noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-339493628284720128.post-49382816746587661322013-02-13T22:12:00.002-08:002013-02-18T19:41:35.677-08:00Amazing <br />
It's early morning, and I'm trying to get us [myself, two small children, one puppy] out the door to take my son to school. Mina is exercising extreme independence in regards to her clothes, Jai is exercising extreme dependence in regards to his, both children are talking to me at once, the puppy is chewing up things she shouldn't be, and my hair is a mess. And we should have been in the car 5 minutes ago. My head feels like exploding, but I resist the urge to scream at the top of my lungs and run away forever. Instead, I inhale as deeply as I can, hold it for a moment, and then deeply release. Suddenly, in the next moment everything changes. We tie up our loose ends and get ourselves into the car.<br />
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Sometimes I think I am crazy. Many times I feel crazy. Occasionally I'll act crazy. And then there are the times when, despite all the craziness, I am able to shift my perspective in such a way that helps me see that in fact I am amazing.<br />
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{All of us mamas. Every one of us. We are all amazing for doing what we do.}<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjLQ-vpvxim42fixi3LiMELHm4pkVwddVTD4i5u-V0cL0b7xKs1fpy9cJZ6y670D_MOKNHAy34sD5l_fzT6JCkmLYMT0RH8X23goJRQMuGv_IJK8jRuY4h12_OTDglD9JaRBldfMbAmbxw/s1600/IMG_7464.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="298" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjLQ-vpvxim42fixi3LiMELHm4pkVwddVTD4i5u-V0cL0b7xKs1fpy9cJZ6y670D_MOKNHAy34sD5l_fzT6JCkmLYMT0RH8X23goJRQMuGv_IJK8jRuY4h12_OTDglD9JaRBldfMbAmbxw/s320/IMG_7464.JPG" width="320" /></a>It's amazing that I spend the vast majority of my waking hours in the company of one or two little beings who in any given moment are either achingly dependent or ferociously independent [and always talking]. Amazing that I can still stand up at the end of a day in which I am constantly paying attention to at least two things at once as I mitigate relationships, comfort sadness, celebrate discovery, share in wonder, sigh in frustration, keep our home orderly, prepare nourishing meals, attend [some] of my own needs, keep an eye on the puppy, care for our animals, read books, make artful messes, try to connect with my husband, spend time enjoying the Earth, wrestle on the floor, and experience all the ups and downs that shape our lives. [Somewhere in there, amidst all that exuberant living, I try to find a moment for stillness. A moment for breathing in my blessings. A moment for Spirit.] It is truly amazing that I have any energy left at all after that.<br />
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Sometimes I do have days when I wonder if I can go on. Perhaps, I think, I'll just fall down on the floor, and nobody will notice me, and I'll just stay there all day in an exhausted heap.<br />
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Yeah, right. Do you know what would happen if I tried that? Approximately two seconds would pass before I was jumped on by a child or two, my hair pulled, my head banged, my face kissed, my body embraced by sticky, pinching, loving, scratching, eager little hands. I would be forced upwards and onwards, just to save myself from all the exuberant love of my children.<br />
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This, essentially, is what my children do to me. They force me out of my comfortable space, out into my boundary zone where I think my limits lie. As they tear apart my walls, the bones of my foundation are revealed. The truth of my Self shines through, sometimes in a harsh and ugly light but [thankfully] more often, it is the light of Spirit that illuminates my way. I watch as my boundaries dissipate and my limits stretch to include it all.<br />
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I love you Jai and Yasmina.<br />
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*Gratitude*<br />
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<br />healingfemininehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10795202701921357678noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-339493628284720128.post-91268452044933758152013-02-02T21:01:00.000-08:002013-02-02T21:01:21.348-08:00Stirring of the SeedsToday was a day that foretold of Spring.<br />
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The weather was [comparatively] warm, the sun blessed us with golden kisses, and we spent the whole day [may I repeat, the whole entire day] outside. Gardening.<br />
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Oh sweet Bliss.<br />
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And it was perfect for such a day, for today is the festival our ancestors celebrated as <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Imbolc" target="_blank">Imbolc</a>. In reverence of the sun who gives us life, they celebrated the sacredness of fire and the days now visibly longer, evidence that life would grow again.<br />
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Although it is still winter, I see signs of spring all around. Signs of a gentle, humming energy returning to the Earth. The frogs have returned to fill the night with music, and birds sing their beautiful songs all day long. Tops of daffodils tentatively push through the cold soil, and little buds begin to appear on stems previously bare. Seeds are stirring from their winter's sleep, preparing to send out their shoots. Our hens are laying a bounty of eggs. I feel the quickening of energy as the Earth begins to anticipate Spring's rebirth.<br />
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To celebrate Imbolc, Mina, Jai, <a href="http://thehealingfeminine.blogspot.com/2013/01/love-is-bella.html" target="_blank">Bella </a>and I planted the first seeds of the season [in the greenhouse, of course]. Spinach, lettuce, endive, parsley, and arugula will all hopefully be the makings of our first spring salads.<br />
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As we covered the seeds with a light blanket of composted manure, we put forth some intentions we would like to manifest in the coming year. Trips to the beach to collect seaweed [and starfish, says Jai], a playhouse for the kids, the acquisition of pigs, goats and horses (!!?), and a 2nd annual <a href="http://thehealingfeminine.blogspot.com/2012/10/the-warm-up.html" target="_blank">Dance Retreat</a> were planted down into the fertile soil.<br />
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May our dreams grow as real and as vibrant as the fruits of those tiny seeds.<br />
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*Blessings*healingfemininehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10795202701921357678noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-339493628284720128.post-1973864874814358422013-01-27T21:58:00.002-08:002013-01-27T21:58:37.228-08:00Love is Bella<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
I would like to introduce you to our newest baby, our 9 week old <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Great_Pyrenees" target="_blank">Great Pyrenees </a>puppy. She came home to us on Friday [I have felt nothing but joy]. {and thank you so much to Rachel and Evan at <a href="http://boondockers.sharepoint.com/Pages/GreatPyrenees.aspx" target="_blank">Boondockers Farm</a>, from whom we also got our beloved ducks.}</div>
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Welcome home, Bella Beth Braxton. <div>
You are Spirit [with the scrunchy face of a baby seal, the luxurious fur of an Angora rabbit, the wise eyes of an ancient being, and the sweet gentle love of a puppy].</div>
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I am so head over heels.</div>
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*Gratitude* </div>
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healingfemininehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10795202701921357678noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-339493628284720128.post-72882256861211921322013-01-22T21:14:00.000-08:002013-01-27T21:09:15.388-08:00Roasted Chicken and Pickled Garlic<br />
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Last night I roasted a chicken for dinner (<a href="http://thehealingfeminine.blogspot.com/2012/12/oh-yes-we-did.html" target="_blank">one of ours</a>, of course.) Within the last year, I've discovered that I enjoy roasting chickens. As a former vegetarian, cooking meat was intimidating until I threw myself into it and realized there was nothing to be scared of. My fear transformed into empowerment. My husband may or may not agree, but I think I've become a pretty good cooker of meat. And for that, I must thank <a href="http://www.shannonhayes.info/" target="_blank">Shannon Hayes</a> and her excellent and inspiring cookbooks, The <i>Grassfed Gourmet</i> and <i>Long Way on a Little</i>. I highly recommend these books full of wisdom and delicious recipes.<br />
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I did make up my own recipe for my chicken last night, but the technique was inspired by Hayes. She has taught me the importance of rubs: olive oil (or butter, as I like to use), salt and seasonings. These delicious mixtures enhance the flavor and retain juiciness. And preparing them is really quite simple.<br />
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<b>Jenny's Balsamic Coriander Roast Chicken</b><br />
for the rub, blend the following in a food processor:<br />
[Note: I didn't actually measure any of this stuff, so please adjust to your own taste]<br />
2 Tbsp softened butter<br />
1 Tbsp olive oil<br />
1 Tbsp balsamic vinegar<br />
2 cloves garlic<br />
1 tsp coriander, freshly ground if possible (and our coriander was even homegrown! Seeds of cilantro)<br />
1 tsp ground pepper<br />
1 tsp coarse ground salt<br />
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Rub the mixture under the skin on the breasts and back, and all over the outside as well. [If you have extra rub, use it to sautee some veggies or save it for the next chicken] Roast the chicken at 350 until the juices run clear and the legs are loose, roughly 1 1/2 hrs. I like to throw some whole brussels sprouts in the bottom of the roasting pan. They come out crispy and delicious!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiy8NBzBsxJzymfHaLvXVU3_tNL-UvAiBwDOv7xOzy0MXOlJTX1FPdkKCojqyfcodH6Qov-Jwgo6XJVinbXMrFhWrH06SzA8Ngf19k6Y5Pl83o8xWrNriAamvQFOFoUsHZPPh08Qh8LSPi-/s1600/IMG_7400.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiy8NBzBsxJzymfHaLvXVU3_tNL-UvAiBwDOv7xOzy0MXOlJTX1FPdkKCojqyfcodH6Qov-Jwgo6XJVinbXMrFhWrH06SzA8Ngf19k6Y5Pl83o8xWrNriAamvQFOFoUsHZPPh08Qh8LSPi-/s320/IMG_7400.jpg" width="213" /></a>While my chicken was roasting, I was able to finish a little project that had gotten pushed to the back of the refrigerator. I had a large jar full of peeled garlic [once again, our own] waiting to be pickled. Jai and Yasmina helped me mix a brine of a scant tablespoon salt [mineral, unrefined] per cup of water and pour it over the garlic. I then filled a smaller jar with water and placed it in the larger jar to hold the garlic under the brine. Cheese cloth or a hand towel tied over the top keeps out flies. Let the garlic sit for a couple of weeks and until it's good and fermented [keep trying it, and when it's pickled to your taste, it's done.] This big jar of pickled garlic was Jai's request. Although not a big fan of raw garlic, he can't get enough of it pickled! If you would like to read more about pickling, check out <a href="http://thehealingfeminine.blogspot.com/2012/07/pickling-peas-and-onion-updates.html" target="_blank">this post</a> and <a href="http://www.wildfermentation.com/" target="_blank">this website.</a><br />
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May your work in the kitchen be blessed!<br />
*Gratitude*healingfemininehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10795202701921357678noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-339493628284720128.post-20496620204448595572013-01-18T21:09:00.004-08:002013-01-18T21:12:14.894-08:00A Morning of Blessings<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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For days now, we have woken up to a world kissed with frost and an earth frozen in silence. It has been dry and cold, with the trees on the distant hills frosted white. All collections of water are solid, and we experience the delicious sensation of skating over slick ice.</div>
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Lately we've been waiting for the sun to peek out before we venture to play, but today we were out to greet the morning. And what blessings we received!</div>
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And finally, back inside for pancakes.<br />
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Many blessings to you on frosty mornings!<br />
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*Gratitude*healingfemininehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10795202701921357678noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-339493628284720128.post-59034425745229870582013-01-12T21:30:00.002-08:002013-01-12T21:30:28.568-08:00Inspiration from GodThere was a time in my life when I was visited by an angel. Not your typical angel by any means, but heavenly was the experience.<br />
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One of the gifts this angel brought me was a book. Three books, actually. They were about a man who one day wrote an angry letter to God, and to his surprise, God answered him. This letter turned into a long dialog between the man and God and eventually became the trilogy, <i><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Conversations_with_God" target="_blank">Conversations with God</a></i> by Neale Donald Walsch.<br />
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You don't need to believe in God in order to read these books. Even if Walsch made the entire "conversation" up in his head, it doesn't matter. The words convey meanings of such beauty, such simplicity, that to me they speak nothing if not Truth. <br />
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Below is an excerpt from Book One. If you feel moved by these words, I would urge you to find yourself a copy and get reading. They will most likely change your life [they surely changed mine...] Enjoy.<br />
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"...All human actions are motivated at their deepest level by one of two emotions - fear or love. In truth there are only two emotions - only two words in the language of the soul. They are the opposite ends of the great polarity which I created when I produced the universe, and your world, as you know it today.<br />
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...Every human thought, and every human action, is based in either love or fear. There <i>is</i> no other human motivation, and all other ideas are but derivatives of these two. They are simply different versions - different twists on the same theme.<br />
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Think on this deeply and you will see that it is true. This is what I have called the Sponsoring Thought. It is either a thought of love or fear. This is the thought behind the thought <i>behind</i> the thought. It is the first thought. It is prime force. It is the raw energy that drives the engine of human experience.<br />
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...every single free choice you ever undertake arises out of the only two possible thoughts there are: a thought of love or a thought of fear.<br />
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Fear is the energy which contracts, closes down, draws in, runs, hides, hoards, harms.<br />
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Love is the energy which expands, opens up, sends out, stays, reveals, shares, heals.<br />
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Fear wraps our bodies in clothing, love allows us to stand naked. Fear clings to and clutches all that we have, love gives all that we have away. Fear holds close, love holds dear. Fear grasps, love lets go. Fear rankles, love soothes. Fear attacks, love amends.<br />
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<i>Every human thought, word or deed is based in one emotion or the other. You have no choice about this, because there is nothing else from which to choose. But you have free choice about which of these to select. </i><br />
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...You have been taught to live in fear. You have been told about the survival of the fittest and the victory of the strongest and the success of the cleverest. Precious little is said about the glory of the most loving. And so you strive to be the fittest, the strongest, the cleverest - in one way or another - and if you see yourself as something less than this in any situation, you fear loss, for you have been told that to be less is to lose.<br />
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And so of course you choose the action fear sponsors, for that is what you have been taught. Yet I teach you this: when you choose the action love sponsors, then will you do more than survive, then will you do more than win, then will you do more than succeed. Then will you experience the full glory of Who You Really Are, and who you can be.<br />
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...There is only one purpose for all of life, and that is for you and all that lives to experience fullest glory.<br />
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Everything you say, think, or do is attendant to that function. There is nothing else for your soul to do, and nothing else your soul <i>wants</i> to do.<br />
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The wonder of this purpose is that it is never-ending. An ending is a limitation, and God's purpose is without such a boundary. Should there come a moment in which you experience yourself in your fullest glory, you will in that instant imagine an ever greater glory to fulfill. The more you are, the more you can become, and the more you can become, the more you can yet be.<br />
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<i>The deepest secret is that life is not a process of discovery, but a process of creation.</i><br />
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You are not discovering yourself, but creating yourself anew. Seek, therefore, not to find out Who You Are, seek to determine Who You Want To Be."<br />
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Whether you recognize it or not, we are in a time of shifting consciousness on this planet. It is time to rise up; it is time to release the hold fear has on our hearts and to let our light shine through. Who Are You? Who do You Want To Be? It can take a lot of work and courage to choose living your life out of love. But I can guarantee that nothing but good will come of it.<br />
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The beauty of our human experience is that we can choose to create a life of love Right Now. The time is here; we are all ready. Let the light shine through.healingfemininehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10795202701921357678noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-339493628284720128.post-46171343510106969512013-01-05T21:48:00.000-08:002013-01-06T21:34:23.398-08:00The Blessings of Rocks and BirdsWinter is here. While I welcome the refreshment of chilly air on my skin [what little shows], light glittering on frost, and soft sunlight through trees, I love to be in our cozy home, creative endeavors warming my hands.<br />
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If a stranger were to walk into our house at some random moment, they might [mistakenly] believe that a tornado has destroyed an art store - markers flung across the floor, all the caps missing; crayons denuded of their paper coverings, overflowing their basket; colorful children's scissors amidst piles of tiny paper snippets; masterpieces of artistic expression drawn into the carpet; balls of yarn, baskets of beads, and bottles of paint needing to be cleared before any food reaches the table (which itself is artistically adorned with stubborn swaths of glitter glue and swipes from a rogue paintbrush).<br />
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Normally I'm not a big fan of messes, but I take exception when the mess is artistic. And believe it or not, I do clean up - and it lasts for all of 10 seconds while the kids are awake. But I am not complaining, oh no. I celebrate and nurture the creative spark in us all. The house can be sacrificed.<br />
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Here are two activities to let your creative hands celebrate this winter season:<br />
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<b>Rock Painting</b><br />
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I have a deep and innate love of rocks [especially smooth river rocks. Every jacket pocket is full]. I seem to have passed that love onto my children, who collect them wherever we go. Every corner and table houses a pile of them.<br />
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Rocks, with their quiet, healing magic, are a symbol of Winter. The smooth form of a rock naturally guides me inwards, where I can hear the soft whispers of my ancient being. I like to keep baskets of rocks around for building caves and cairns, and they also make quite an excellent canvas.<br />
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It's simple. Gather your rocks (as large a pile as possible), prepare your paints, and let your creativity flow.<br />
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<b>A Tree for the Birds</b><br />
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Thanks to our relatively mild coastal range winters, we have a beautiful variety of birds keeping us company through the winter months. Food is naturally less abundant, so this next activity extends the season of generosity to our winged friends.<br />
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After our Solstice/Christmas tree had all it's decorations put away, we moved it out into the front yard to keep our celebration alive [and of course you could decorate any tree with low enough branches]. We then gathered fir cones, which we slathered in peanut butter and rolled in birdseed. [The peanut butter part is a little tricky. We had a hard time getting it to stick to the cones. Be patient and persistent.] I tied loops of string around them for hanging, and up they went. A lovely and creative friend of mine and her beautiful children were crafting with us that day, and she had brought some <a href="http://www.myrecipes.com/recipe/simple-white-bread-10000001054844/" target="_blank">bread dough</a> along. The kids formed it into various shapes, I baked them at 350 degrees until they were brown on top, and we hung them up on the tree as well. I also thought it would be fun to make popcorn garlands, but we didn't make it that far.<br />
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While wintertime can keep us indoors more than usual, I take it as a blessing for our creativity. I pass these blessings onto you!<br />
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*Gratitude*<br />
<br />healingfemininehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10795202701921357678noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-339493628284720128.post-86721078646639431312012-12-30T22:23:00.001-08:002012-12-30T22:25:34.525-08:00Flowing in the New YearMy sisters, my brothers, there is magic in the air. Did you feel it at the <a href="http://thehealingfeminine.blogspot.com/2012/12/preparing-for-solstice.html" target="_blank">Solstice</a>? Do you feel it now?<br />
<br />
I feel it. After months of feeling lethargic, overwhelmed, anxious, angry, and even depressed, I feel lighter than I ever have. I feel, dare I say it....enlightened.<br />
<br />
I released lethargy from my life. I released feeling overwhelmed, angry and depressed. I released helplessness and small-mindedness. I released fear.<br />
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Not only did I release energy, I transformed it into something beautiful [did you know that's a gift of the Feminine? Take in energy, transform it, and release. And thus we heal]. I transformed my Anxiety into Flow. [Let me explain.] Over the last while, I have realized what an anxious person I can be. Not anxious as in worrying about bad things happening, but anxious as in getting things done. Anxious about the passage of time and my checklist of Things To Do. In my mind's eye, the image I had of myself was a wild-eyed crazy woman, rushing about trying to Get Things Accomplished. Despite my best efforts, I could not release myself from this pattern.<br />
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Until now.<br />
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Until I sat with eight beautiful women on one beautiful night and we did crazy beautiful things like dancing naked and howling at the moon [not really] and I took my lethargy and my overwhelmedness and my anger and my depression and my helplessness and my small-mindedness and my fear and my Anxiety and I burned it up with offerings of love.<br />
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and I welcomed in Faith. Patience. Perspective. Love. Connection. Creativity. and I welcomed in<br />
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Flow.<br />
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And the amazing, wondrous, beautiful thing is that<br />
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It worked!<br />
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No longer am I a crazy, wild-eyed woman. Now I see myself groovin in time to the rhythm of the universe as I calmly and patiently [and joyously!] go about my day. It's like I've been brought into balance with a great universal force. My timing is impeccable. My day flows easily from East to West. Some things get done, others don't, and it's all perfectly as it should be. We are laughing more, dancing, creating, playing. If I start to feel like I'm slipping, I think "flow," and off I go.<br />
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I've been given perspective. I yearned for connection and I found it. I opened myself to the universal shift and was able to shift my Self.<br />
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Is that not enlightenment?<br />
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And the beauty of it is, you can join me. Pray for guidance. Be open to your teachers. Forgive yourself. Look at your life and see what needs to be healed. Heal it. Welcome in this divine energy [feminine!] and let's flow into the new year.<br />
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All together now.healingfemininehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10795202701921357678noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-339493628284720128.post-560344949383853512012-12-20T23:56:00.001-08:002012-12-20T23:56:57.437-08:00Preparing for Solstice Tonight, on this eve of Winter Solstice, I send out my blessings.<br />
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What is going to happen tomorrow has been the subject of many speculations around the Mayan calendar and the future of our earth. I personally have no fears that the end of the world is coming; instead, I am filled with great joy and excitement for the possibilities that are opening to us.<br />
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The Mayan calendar is not ending; it is completing one cycle and starting another. We are not at the end; this is a beginning. The breath of spring in the cold dawn air. The last cycle won't repeat itself.<br />
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Even if you don't believe the prophesies that tell of a coming enlightened age, and even if you don't believe that tomorrow's Solstice holds any magic at all, it doesn't matter. We can all choose to change, right now. We can all take this opportunity, real or imagined, to shed our old skins and transform into our highest selves. Release old patterns. Open our perspectives. Love with our hearts. [Illuminate.]<br />
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Wake up, sweet loves, wake up.<br />
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In order to aid you on your journey, I would like to share a Solstice ritual. Last night, in collaboration with eight other beautiful women, we preformed this ritual to cleanse ourselves of that which no longer serves us and to call in that which will.<br />
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First, in the company of yourself or with friends, make a sacred space. An altar of some sort, as elaborate or simple as you desire. I personally like to have the four elements and the four directions represented: air [East], fire [South], water [West] and earth [North]. Add any other sacred or beautiful objects that call to you. I then <a href="http://www.altnature.com/thegarden/howtouse.htm" target="_blank">smudge myself</a> and the four directions to open my circle [even if my circle consists only of myself].<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3uXObUQoVU2yRX90DfbyBIAB4b_bh8DEVZI6pdsN283kjRmDKIIujbUqddalUmFQAG2RjP6C6fTWCBjGFqXoCWI3RVJLhLqSF3sRtQTO6f_iYWUCM33zVv4bb1p-t2sTG4Ahg0z7b-FZR/s1600/IMG_7079.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3uXObUQoVU2yRX90DfbyBIAB4b_bh8DEVZI6pdsN283kjRmDKIIujbUqddalUmFQAG2RjP6C6fTWCBjGFqXoCWI3RVJLhLqSF3sRtQTO6f_iYWUCM33zVv4bb1p-t2sTG4Ahg0z7b-FZR/s640/IMG_7079.JPG" width="640" /></a><br />
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After taking a few minutes to meditate and connect with yourself, take a strip of paper and write down everything you are ready to let go of. This can be anything - attitudes, patterns, energy - whatever it is that no longer serves you. [Think big, go deep.] When you are done, take another strip of paper and write down everything you wish to welcome in. Then roll your strips up and put each in the center of it's own little square of fabric. As an offering, add some herbs, dried flowers, loose tobacco, or even a snip of your hair along with your paper. Then pull in all the edges and tie the bundle up with a piece of string. When you have finished, you should have two bundles: one to release, one to keep.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkVadVwJ0aVPi0DxM9Sozk_55taa1cA_i98cKTyZL2n20-kOkWYLrzUsABA-gTpR2VCoyfi_92WUyX7ohLGW76CJ34go9CHVev8MVMDeAvEUylr-pmS5SkSDUk5GvCtyUabkviA6YH-jMd/s1600/IMG_7087.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkVadVwJ0aVPi0DxM9Sozk_55taa1cA_i98cKTyZL2n20-kOkWYLrzUsABA-gTpR2VCoyfi_92WUyX7ohLGW76CJ34go9CHVev8MVMDeAvEUylr-pmS5SkSDUk5GvCtyUabkviA6YH-jMd/s320/IMG_7087.JPG" width="320" /></a>Make a fire. Inside or out, or use an earthenware bowl or a large shell if nothing else is available. Burn up your releasing bundle, and let go. [I got really into this part. As we get closer to Solstice, I've been compelled to do some deep cleaning in my house. I gathered up all the old herbs and dried flowers and sacred objects - our <a href="http://thehealingfeminine.blogspot.com/2012/05/goddess-art-our-may-day-craft.html" target="_blank">Mayday goddesses </a>and the gratitude flags we made last Solstice - and burned them up as well. As blessings, as offerings. It felt REALLY GOOD.]<br />
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Next take your bundle of all that you're calling in and place it on your altar. Light a candle as you affirm those energies you are welcoming in, and state them out loud. Take some quiet minutes to feel the effects of all this in your body.<br />
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To finish the ritual, close the circle by smudging yourself and the directions once more.<br />
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Many blessings to you as we enter the darkest day. Many blessings as we release our old, stagnant, and negative energies. Many blessings as we take hands and walk into the new light.<br />
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*Gratitude*<br />
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<br />healingfemininehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10795202701921357678noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-339493628284720128.post-10557884665552836872012-12-14T20:54:00.001-08:002012-12-15T19:47:34.029-08:00This is my LoveTonight many people are struggling, trying to understand a world in which children are ruthlessly and senselessly killed.<br />
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Children are magic. Children are Spirit. Children are direct connections to the Source.<br />
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I look at my beautiful children and weep for mothers. So many mothers all over the world mourn lost children, so many fathers. So many grandmothers and grandfathers and brothers and sisters and aunts and uncles. I cannot even fathom their pain. Just the attempt brings tear to my eyes.<br />
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Children are love.<br />
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Even on a night like tonight, when the world seems an impossibly sad place, I take hope. And actually, it's not even hope. Really it is more like faith.<br />
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I have faith that our world will be a place in which children are no longer killed. I have faith that our world will open to love, and that our fear and hate will be overcome.<br />
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We are beginning a new cycle. And while I do fervently hope that people will suddenly reach enlightenment on Dec. 21, I know it's not going to happen that way. I know this is a process, an evolution. But I also know that we have the power, at any given time, to shed our darkness and walk towards the light. We have the power to choose the energy in this coming cycle. I choose the energy of love. Who is with me?<br />
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Let a horrendous event like the one that happened today in Connecticut [in Afghanistan. In Syria. In Mali. In Palestine. In the Congo. In Uganda. In so many places, every day.] Let it be an opportunity for us to make change. Big change, little change, all the change we can. Towards love. Towards healing. Towards living more peacefully, more consciously, with more awareness. Let us take this opportunity to acknowledge that we [you, me, and all of them] are all part of Spirit. [Let us choose forgiveness.]<br />
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This is how I choose to live [I welcome you, divine feminine. We are ready.]<br />
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The time to choose is now.healingfemininehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10795202701921357678noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-339493628284720128.post-34732110053032562662012-12-01T15:06:00.000-08:002012-12-02T00:22:57.010-08:00Oh Yes We DidWe are real farmers now.<br />
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I guess I just felt like a serious gardener before. Even though we are growing enough vegetables and eggs to supply our needs, I didn't really consider myself a farmer.<br />
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Now, however, I think we can upgrade that status.<br />
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In September, we had 15 day-old fluff ball chicks sent to us in the mail. Those chicks quickly grew in a <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chicken_tractor" target="_blank">chicken tractor</a> in the garden, and now they [most of them, anyway] are sleeping eternally in our freezer, waiting for their turn to be dinner.<br />
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We did it! We are now raising our own meat, which is something we've been wanting to do for a long time. We're starting with chickens, and we already have plans for pigs in the spring.<br />
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Yesterday was our third day harvesting [as we like to say] the chickens. The first two days we finished three birds and yesterday we did four. Only five left.... It is hard work, and there is definitely a learning curve [all of our instruction has been thanks to YouTube].<br />
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For future harvests, we are going to build some equipment [<a href="http://survivalfarm.wordpress.com/2010/09/14/diy-chicken-kill-cone-cost-less-than-2-00/" target="_blank">killing cones</a>, <a href="http://kottke.org/09/11/diy-chicken-plucking-machine" target="_blank">plucking machine</a>] that will make the work much easier and faster. But for now it's all [wo]man power, and I tell you that plucking chickens is not my favorite activity.<br />
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To begin, I hold the bird in my lap. After a minute spent petting and calming it, I wrap the chicken in a towel and hold him upside down [being restrained and inverted calms the bird]. After expressing our gratitude and love, Anthony cuts the arteries on either side of the neck and the blood drains out. The bird stays pretty quiet, but there are jerks and spasms as the spirit leaves the body. I hang on tight, sending off my blessings as the chicken dies in my hands.<br />
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After the bird is just a body, Anthony has the grisly job of chopping off the head with a hatchet. I tried to do it once and will not try again unless under dire circumstances. I then dip the chicken in a pot of 140 degree water for about 10 seconds, after which the feathers come out just like butter. Kind of. Sometimes.<br />
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Plucking the chicken is really my main duty in all of this. Either I'm not very good at it or I'm not doing it the most efficient way or it's actually just really hard and annoying, but it takes me a long time and I find it impossible to get all of the little quills out. You see, it's not hard to get the actual feathers out. But what you might not know is that under all those feathers, there's a whole bunch of little quill feathers just waiting to grow up. And picking all those suckers out is the really tedious part.<br />
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After I have plucked the chicken as much as possible, I hand it over to Anthony. He removes the digestive tract and all those innards we don't eat [although we do save the heart, the gizzard, and the liver]. I did gut one bird, and it wasn't so bad. I'll do it again, but for now Anthony is much faster.<br />
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The last little job is peeling the scales off the chicken feet [another tedious job]. Did you know chicken feet are a nutritional treasure? In fact, I recommend you go to your local farmer's market and find someone who can sell you some. Make stock with them, and you will have the richest, most nutritious, gelatinous broth you can imagine. I almost consider it worth raising my own chickens just for the feet.<br />
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So yes, we did it. I'm really proud of us. And even though I can't say that I love killing chickens, I love raising my own food. I will do it again. And again. Many people I know tell me they could never eat something they've raised, but I find it hard to eat an animal whose conditions in life and death are unknown.<br />
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I want to be connected to my food, to the nourishment I bring into my body. I want to know the animals I consume had a good life and a loving death. Jai said a couple of times that killing the chickens is sad, and I agree with him. It is sad. And I think fully accepting the fact that an animal died so we can eat is an important concept to understand [and one that many people in our culture don't even think about]. It is not just some meat in some package from some store; it belonged to a living, breathing animal full of spirit. That animal died so we could eat. I have great respect and deep gratitude for that, and I want to pass that respect and gratitude on to my children.<br />
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Even though we haven't actually eaten one of our chickens yet, just the act of growing and harvesting them has been deeply nourishing. I am deeply, deeply grateful for our chickens.<br />
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*Love*healingfemininehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10795202701921357678noreply@blogger.com3