Imbolc

A blessed Imbolc to all! I visited my home range of mountains, the Rockies in CO, this week. I skiied atop their peaks, drove among the valleys, and soaked in hot springs deep within the heart of the mountain. 

What I can share from this experience is the abiding wisdom of the mountains: 

Seek your center. Tend the flame that lives deep within. Stay connected to the Earth. Trust yourself and your ability to maintain your equilibrium. Trust the mountain and let go. Go slowly, but with confidence. Abide.

May the returning light bless you with the strength and drive to fulfill your self-dedications for this turning of the Great Wheel. May we come through the winter whole and healthy, ready to plant the seeds of spring. 

May we tend the flame for all beings everywhere, that we may bring a new way of coexistence into being. May all beings be filled with compassion. May we be at peace. Naho. Blessed be. Namaste. OM shanti!

The First Harvest

The Pagan Experience - WK 1- August 3: Harvesting! In any spiritual pursuit there are times of planting and seeding and times of harvesting what has gone to fruition. How do you recognize what is ready to be cut down? How do you discern what needs to remain for more ripening? How do you move through your harvest in a productive way?

Lughnasadh is here! May the blessings of the Corn King shine upon you and fill your larder with abundance. This is the first of the three harvest festivals on the great wheel of the year. Lughnasadh, or Lammas, is the grain harvest. Mabon is the fruit harvest, and Samhain is the animal & soul harvest.

Where I live, all sorts of things are ready to harvest. My tomatoes are spitting out a gallon of fruit at a time. The beans are going crazy too, and the okra is just beginning to come in. My peppers are almost done, except for the jalapeños, which have gotten their second wind. We had a mystery plant that turned out to be pumpkin, and we have several small pumpkins in the garden. It seems strange to see them ripe in July, but then, it has been a strange year.

It's been a hot, hot summer, and it continues to be so. Because of our long, hot growing season, we are actually coming to the end of the first and second plantings (or in my case, one lazy, late planting). It's now just about time to clear out the garden and start over with late summer and fall crops. I think I may replant zucchini on one hill, and add butternut squash on the other hill.

The commercial farms in the neighborhood have tall tobacco plants and cotton bolls beginning to form.

The soybeans are in full swing too. All three of these cash crops will not be ready to harvest for a long time yet. Corn and watermelons are in the markets, and I have a powerful craving for corn at the moment.

In a spiritual sense, this too is a time of harvest. At Yule, we dreamed and envisioned the year to come.
We cleaned away the cobwebs of the unnecessary at Imbolc. We planted the seeds of our work for the year at Ostara. We watered the seeds at Beltane. At Litha, we celebrated the abundance of the land and of our path. Now it is Lughnasadh, and harvest season begins.

So these questions, suggested by our lovely facilitator for The Pagan Experience...they are interesting for me. This year, I was bound and determined to have a luxuriant basil crop. I'm quite fond of pesto, and my plan was to make a giant batch and put it in the freezer. It's not farfetched; I've done this before. I use the tiniest canning jars, cover the pesto with a layer of olive oil, and then enjoy meals that SCREAM summer throughout the winter.

Mother Nature had other ideas, as it turns out. I did indeed grow a luxuriant crop of basil, but it was a real struggle to keep it alive. Along with the extreme heat, the rain has come in a few giant bursts, rather than an even spread through the summer months. Meanwhile, my work schedule has gotten more and more full.

I let the basil go too long. I didn't recognize when it was time to harvest. It was looking so big and beautiful a month ago, and now it's in full flower and the leaves are dying. This is a powerful lesson about flow for me. When one grasps for more and more, rather than taking in the harvest when it is at its peak, it's easy to lose out entirely. I was upset that it flowered too soon - an early heat wave caused many things to flower before their "normal" time. I'll still get some pesto, but it will be a much smaller batch.

For me, the lesson this year is trusting that my needs and desires will be met. There's no need to worry. I need to take the leaps of faith and take in the harvest knowing that I have enough. I am enough. If I need something else later, something more, that too will come. Perhaps more importantly, I need to remember that perfection is not the goal. Recognize the perfectly imperfect for the blessing it is, and go with it.

This Lughnasadh, I am truly blessed. My life and path are beautiful, messy, abundant and growing all the time. I am stepping into my power more and more. My Clan is flourishing. The year-wheel's turning has been eventful, and truly, all things are just as they should be. I am grateful! Sing it with me:

Hoof and Horn


© Ian Corrigan



Hoof and horn, hoof and horn


All that dies shall be reborn


Corn and grain, corn and grain


All that falls shall rise again.

Lizard Medicine

Yesterday, I was preparing for a party. I needed to put some yard tools away in the barn. As I neared the door, I startled a lizard. Normally, lizards disappear when startled.

This one moved closer to me, on to the glass door of the barn.

I stopped to take a good look at this tiny being. It had tree frog-esque toes, a pale underbelly and a light chartreuse back with a tan/beige stripe all the way down its spine. Neon green ringed its eyes. I could see its lungs moving as it breathed.

It looked back at me.

I settled in to watch. Surely, this creature would scuttle off at my slightest move.

It looked back at me.

I realized somewhere in here that this was yet another visitation by an animal teacher. I have a lot of avian and mammal medicine; not so much reptile or amphibian. What does this mean?

At length, and it could have been as much as five or ten minutes, I had to get moving with the rest of my tasks. I quietly walked through the door, deposited my tools and backed out of the barn.

Closing the inner door would surely startle the lizard, right? Nope.

Looking through the glass at my little friend, I hesitated; should I or should I not disturb it by closing the glass door? Yes. I won't be back, and our guests will be here soon. I close the door.

The lizard looks back at me.

I hear you, little one. Thank you for your teachings. Be well.

~

Later, I identified the lizard as a Green Anole, latin name Anolis Carolinensis. The males are territorial, and breeding season stretches throughout spring and summer. It is possible that this was a male protecting his territory, or a female protecting her egg. Interestingly, though, I did not observe any of the associated behaviors such as chin bobbing.

The animal medicine of Lizard is about detachment and observation. It encourages us to detach from current issues emotionally and do what must be done.

Also, from the interwebs:

"It’s time to take do an internal audit. Are you being ruled by your ego or are you coming from your heart? Be aware – simply because the ego is the master of deception and you will often have to peel back many layers to get at the truth – and to discover what your heart is really telling you. Take the time to really focus on your personal dreams."

In the Most Unlikely of Places: Freecell

If you've never played it, Freecell is a form of solitaire, except all the cards are spread out, face up, in vertical columns. You have four open "cells" at the top, which are used to shift cards around. The goal is the same as solitaire - untangle all 52 cards and pile them up by suit and number, in order.

It’s also a pretty powerful spiritual practice.      

Freecell is teaching me to work with what I have in front of me. The game has many moves, some of which seem like progress, and some that seem like backtracking. It’s not linear. I cannot simply do what I’d like to do. The card I want is buried beneath three cards for which I have no use. I have to deal with a chaotic and seemingly arbitrary jumble. Each tiny step leading me further along my circuitous route…just like life.

Just like real life, there are no jokers, no get out of jail free cards. There’s just raw material and a little bit of wiggle room. You have to shift it around until the chaos is transformed into order. If you fail? That’s it…or you can hit retry. That too, might be like real life, but none of us really know that answer. But back to Freecell.

The game has a certain flow, yet it’s also balanced by longer termed strategy than simply putting a card anywhere it can fit. Looking ahead a few moves, that’s the key. But then, one can easily overbalance in this direction and take on too much. Unbridled ambition doesn’t work in Freecell. It tends to just eat up your free cells and leave you a crucial one move away from perfection.

It’s also showing me how it doesn’t matter if I can see where my step will land. The most unlikely moves can sometimes lead to the most brilliant streak of flowing, easy scores. It seems like such a bad idea, but I have to do something. So I take a chance…and then, eureka!

Freecell reveals my blind spots. I never knew it, but sometimes I am dyslexic with numbers or colors. I think I'm seeing clearly, but the reality is different. How like life, how like Yoga!

Sidebar: a Yoga teacher I studied with recently told me that asana (yoga poses) reveals imbalance and asana corrects imbalance.

Koans everywhere!

Anyhoo. I find that I make a lot of mistakes. I think I’m on a roll, maybe I’m just a wee bit too excited about that fact and BOOM! Saw the color wrong, went too fast or overlooked one crucial thing. At other times, frustration will lead me to act recklessly. 

I also find that I’m capable of some brilliant flow. I get into a fugue state and it becomes effortless. One move leads to the next in a harmonious rhythm. It feels the same as when I'm in an altered state creating artwork, when my martial arts mojo is strong or when I'm paddling well on a river. Flow is a whole other topic…I'll write more about that later.

To sum up, it's helping me:

1. Use what I have.
2. Take one step at a time.
3. Look a few moves ahead.
4. Balance effort and non-effort.
5. Learn from blind spots.
6. Flow.
7. Trust.

Lately, things have been tumultuous in my life. There is a lot of intensive transformation going on. I have been playing a lot of Freecell, and I've been taking a lot of steps to manifest my dreams. 

Give it a try, and as always, tell me about your experience! Are there any mundane seeming things you use as a spiritual practice?

Cloud Atlas and Reincarnation

“Our lives are not our own. From womb to tomb, we are bound to others. Past and present. And by each crime and every kindness, we birth our future.”

– David Mitchell, Cloud Atlas

Just like when “What the *bleep* Do We Know” came out, I think everyone should watch this film. It resonates with me on so many levels - love, connections, the impact of our actions.

I have experienced profound connections with other human beings (and animals!). The path of my life has changed in a flash because of a chance meeting, a smile or a kiss. Some connections were fleeting, others continue today. But even the briefest connections can have the biggest impact.

I have friends who I have never met in person, through the magic of the intertubes. Others who I may have only met once or twice. Friends I made in a moment – on the train, in a shop, in the woods. Some I have not seen in many years.

There are people who I will never forget, even though they are no longer alive or are far away. There are people who I will love as long as my spirit persists.

There are people with whom I share an unspoken understanding so strong that it is easy to forget that I have not known them my whole life. Who it seems I must have met before.

Which fact reminds me of a story. When I was young, I got a postcard in the mail. On the postcard was a photograph of a young woman from the 1800’s.

She looks exactly like me.

Exactly. Imagine me with a Gibson Girl pompadour hairdo, pointy granny boots and a white dress. And that is the woman on that card. From almost two hundred years ago.

On the back was written some words that I will never forget:

Dear Time Traveler,

I knew that I knew you in another lifetime, another century.

-Marcanza

I asked everyone I knew if they sent it to me. No one would confess. Everyone seemed sincere. Not satisfied, I analyzed everyone’s handwriting. No matches.

To this day, I have no idea who sent me that postcard. It haunts me. I want to know who sent it. But I also want to know about the woman in the photograph. Who is she? How can we look so alike? Is this proof of reincarnation?

I don’t have all the answers. I hold some beliefs that enrich my life, but I don’t profess to say that they are the absolute truth. But one thing I do know: each action matters.

So today, like everyday, I have done the best that I could. I took good care of myself. I provided the best care that I am capable of to my patients. I acknowledged every being that I came across, whether it be vegetable, animal or human. I walked my path with beauty and compassion, strength and humility.

I am so thankful for all of the amazing, beautiful, talented, quirky, smart, funny, perfectly imperfect people in my life, past and present. Blessed be!

p.s. Go watch Cloud Atlas. If you're in the Triangle area, come join my Meetup group for a viewing!

p.p.s. Friends, PLEASE TELL ME who sent the postcard! It’s been over 20 years! Marcanza, if you’re reading this, drop me another note. Who are you?

The Unwelcome Medicine of Pests

A few years ago, I moved back to North Carolina from Colorado. During those Colorado years, I spent a lot of time outdoors, and it was blissfully free from insects. There's nothing like summertime camping in a breathtaking alpine meadow...especially when you're originally from an area where a similar scene would mean irritation, constant slapping and bug spray.

Since I've been back in the South, I believe that the insects have been paying back every sting-free year. Somehow, they've compressed 11 years of freedom into just 4 of pain. My feet and legs have borne the brunt of this insectile attack. Mosquitos, gnats and noseeums I can stand, but the fire ant bites...oh, the fire ant bites.

The first year I was back, I got Chaco sandals. <cue ominous chord here>

As you might expect, it's warm enough for sandals for a good many months each year here. As a pagan, environmental educator and avid backpacker...I'm outside a lot. Wearing sandals.

Somehow, some way, the fire ants find me every time. I may be with a group of people, walking the same trail, or standing around in the same area. No one else is bothered most of the time. Me? Covered with ants.

The most entertaining story comes from last fall. I was leading a meeting of the Artemis Circle, which is an ongoing club spun off from an awesome girls summer camp that I teach. On this particular lovely day, we were planning to look for wildflowers for pressing. We'd cast a circle, everyone was happy, and I thought, hey, here's a hill we haven't climbed! Let's go, girls!

We climbed the hill and were briefly admiring the view. It couldn't have been more than a minute when I started to feel the pain. I looked down and sure enough, I was covered with ants. I brushed off the ones I could see, but the pain didn't stop. I had to get out of there! I started to run and was actually yelping with pain.

Imagine, if you will, a grown woman running and screaming, trailing a string of giggling 12 year olds.

I don't think they knew what was happening. Running and hollering is something we did as a group, being a high-spirited bunch of Artemisians as we were.

I got off the hill, but the pain didn't stop there. For the next hour as I was teaching, I kept feeling new pains. At first, I thought it was just paranoia. But later examination proved that some of the ants had climbed into my clothes and bit me all the way up to my right armpit.

<WAH WAH WAH music here>

Right. Fire ants are an invasive species. They were unwittingly introduced to the USA by a cargo ship in the early 1900's. Humans, even pagans, have a hard time loving pests. Usually our reverence and conservation efforts are reserved for the more appealing animals, like seals, bald eagles, horses, whales, big cats, etc. Who ever heard of someone with a mosquito totem? Or jellyfish totem?

But it is my belief that all beings are animated by the same Divine energy, and all beings have a place in the ecosystem. We call the fire ants invaders, but they are just doing what all species do - expand into new & hospitable environments and carry on their mode of existence.

What's more, from a shamanic perspective, animals have rich lessons to teach us. It occurred to me this morning, as I practiced Yoga, that I was looking at this fire ant plague in entirely the wrong way. They aren't trying to take my blissful sandal-wearing freedom away. They're just being ants. Is it possible, just maybe, that they are trying to teach me something?

I consulted my trusty copy of Animal-Speak by Ted Andrews.

Ant medicine is all about organization. Building infrastructure for our lives. Working tenaciously toward goals. Collaborating with others. Patience. Self-discipline.

You know that feeling when you read or hear something you don't want to hear? Perhaps it's coming from someone you don't like, or it's being presented in a challenging context. Maybe it's something you don't want to believe about yourself. But yet, you KNOW it's true, and no amount of emotional squirming is going to change that fact.

It hit me like a thunderbolt. These are the lessons of this phase of my life. I made a major life change four years ago. I've re-launched my career, becoming a self-employed professional. I've been learning about working with others in an effective way. I've been stepping my self-improvement efforts into high gear, disciplining myself to make healthier choices.

BANGO!

I hear you, little ones. I am listening. I understand. Thank you.

p.s. Can you ease up on the stings now, please? I'll be good, I promise!