Sparkling Lotus-land

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I keep a separate blog devoted to my various experiments and work in progress.  Click here to visit! Scroll down to view the most recent post on this all-purpose blog.

cherishing

Am very grateful that these last few days of the summer season have shown some sustained improvement with my stamina levels.  I've been able to spend some very enjoyable time in a few favorite spots: along the Charles River, at the local bird sanctuary and gathering herbs in my own sweet garden beds.    Tomorrow, with an equal balance of light and dark hours, may serve a personal recalibration day.  Will be back soon with some images from my wanderings because I took plenty of pictures ...

arrggh!

Help me I am trapped somewhere in "the new typepad".  Earlier today I clicked on that option because of course I was curious and also reassured by the note that said I "could always go back".  But now I can't get back; with or without my high heeled shoes and low necked sweater.  Normally I'm not somebody who likes to spend readers' time and effort kvetching about incidentals like my personal frustrations with a blogging program but damn it to hell!  I spent some concentrated effort writing a post that pleased me and then something went terribly wrong with the font size.  The more I tried to correct it the more it out of control it became.  That's when I decided I'd "go back".  But I can't.  And now I can't seem to load pictures, either.  So...I guess I'll BE back whenever I figure it out.   Right about now I can hardly wait for mercury to station direct again, how 'bout you?

record keeping

It's always interesting to keep track of the ways my written journal reflects its cover.  Usually I have something specific in mind when making a book selection.  This time I was thinking about moving forward and the ways this process enables us to go through passageways and portals - of time, experience and conscious growth.

This morning I realized how much of what I've been writing relates to acknowledging doors I've deliberately shut.  Some have been sealed for a long time and now I must retrace my steps in order to open them once more.  Some I ignored; as if they didn't exist and the choices they contained weren't mine to make.  A few didn't interest me enough to notice their existence.  Some doors belonged to other people and I could only stand on the outside pushing envelopes through the letter slot - metaphorically or otherwise.

The journal pictured above is relatively new but my general writing methodology is very well established.  The process reminds me of keeping a garden.  Over time I've found many parallels between various journal volumes and individual, always unique, growing seasons.  Advance planning frequently reaches a tipping point where organic life force asserts itself; trumping construction and blurring the edges of specific intentions...

present & accounted for

For the past ten days Celeste has been a little heartbroken and super-watchful.  It's because Jim was road-tripping it to Florida for a long overdue visit with his mom.  This morning he arrived back home.  Naturally the cat is now acting as if she couldn't care less and didn't pine for him intensely while he was gone.  This might not make emotional sense from a human point of view but it's absolutely classic feline psychology.

When he first got in I was still three quarters of the way asleep but I still caught the jubilation in his voice as he announced himself.   I am very glad he took this particular vacation, and fully delighted that he enjoyed the trip, but I'm even happier he's back home.  Life in the household just doesn't seem like it's fully itself without his swingin' bass laying the groove of our ongoing soundtrack.

The seasonal shifts that have been transpiring are making a vivid impression on him.  I am a gold-lit summer girl and so I don't always enjoy peoples' variety of fixations for pushing summer away and focusing on autumn's arrival. It doesn't make sense to take this sort of differing preference personally - any more than it makes sense for the cat to ignore someone she missed so dreadfully.   Yet at times I do find it a personal trial. 

From my perspective it seems no sooner has the sun peaked on the summer solstice than various people start bringing up 'the return to darkness'.   This year I was determined not to have that kind of discourse bother me and equally determined not to feel disturbed once summer reached a point of putting itself to sleep.  I thought I didn't need to keep making it my business if anyone else fancied the choice to leapfrog ahead.  They could do that without a scrim of my barely controlled disapproval.  And I could root myself in the now-ness of each passing moment during my favorite season of the year.  For the most part this intentional live-and-live endeavor has worked quite well. 

I am not sad this year so much as wistful.  Several plans or the simple ideas for plans needed to be tweaked or outright canceled due to my assortment of physical concerns.   For two days before Jim left our main topics of conversation revolved around his itinerary planning and how sorry for myself I felt about the fact that it would be a solo mission for him.  He kept trying to help me feel better about it all.  I kept insisting it was good for me to let myself express the sorrow rather than keeping my distance from such a significant part of the overall recuperative process.

While he was gone I spent a fair amount of time somewhat lost in the process of emotional recalibration.  Once I got rid of my accumulated sorrow and frustration it was time to take a more pleasant inventory of what has happened for & through me during this passing season.   Sifting through the details of that inventory has felt like an authentic blessing.

Plus even I, with my unabashed fantasies of living in an Endless Summer, find something undeniably powerful and appealing about the burnished quality of light as it fades a bit earlier each day.  As we ate dinner this evening Jim mentioned his acute awareness that the light's pattern across the daily timeframe has changed during his brief absence.  It won't be too long before leaf peepers start appearing and the landscape is punctuated by the distinctive gold-green color that's the very heartbeat of autumn's arrival in new england.

I adore that color.  It's part of the natural kingdom's seasonal statement that I authentically relish.  But in stoking my anticipation I'm getting a few weeks ahead of the organic order of things. For now it's still summer at least at the technical level.  This is a time of preparation:  a mini-season of making one last enormous batch of pesto sauce, picking some final sumptuous flower bouquets and assembling the culinary incidentals that lend themselves to pumpkin risotto and slow roasted root vegetable medleys...

shifting directions

The general landscape of Sparkling Lotus-land is changing on a daily basis.  Lush green knolls have been softened by the first drifts of New England asters.  Deep shadows beneath the trees are now brightened by brilliant flares of goldenrod flowers and gleaming scarlet belladona fruits.   The distinctive sharp-yet-honeyed scent of Queen Anne's Lace is everywhere. As the last few weeks of summer unwind themselves I've been enjoying daily therapeutic sun-sitting sessions in the center of the main garden bed.  It's felt so good to enter this part of my world very gently.  I'm enjoying a reconnected awareness of this beloved space from the perspective of a silent component.  It's quite different from pushing my way into the Other-ness of it all while being primarily immersed in a series of groundskeeping tasks.  There's plenty to see from my re-established stillpoint - including lots of insect drama.

And the evocative dream-nourishing scent of gardenia blooms is so wonderfully restorative that I tend to set my camp chair quite near the two bushes.  They smell stronger as the sun fades into evening but even at high noon they add a topnote of sweetness.

I believe one very important reason why the puzzling pile-up of health questions 'suddenly' began to form a strongly recognizable pattern is - you guessed it - my diligent work with flower essences.   I am continuing that regime with two brand new synergies that were formulated and prepared just a few short days before learning the results of my latest blood work.  I may have been thinking along somewhat specific pre-determined lines when I concocted the formulations but the healing applications of the essences I selected are also very well suited to my emergent needs.

Having modified my existing goals and expectations so that the bulk of my energy and focus can remain fixed on personal quantum healing needs, I really don't have much clue of what I'll be doing as summer melts into autumn.   The passageway of one season changing into another is very familiar and yet, during this particular transition, it's also virgin territory.

I'm resolved to stay as proactive and diligent as possible; understanding there will be slow and especially challenging days (today was one of them...) along with brilliant instances of profound growth and rejuvenation.  In the past week I've experienced some very positive shifts - in my attitude as well as direct circumstance.  My work output is modest and so is my daily to-do list.  This is something that's becoming more normalized for me and doesn't necessarily evoke panic or internalized alarm bells. And that, too, is progress - of a very useful and empowering nature!

tonight...

...it's much too hot on the second floor of our house.  The guys are toughing it out up there but Celeste and I will be sleeping in the slightly cooler living room.  The two gardenia bushes are blooming just outside the living room window and this is a beautiful trade-off for me; I love sleeping with gardenia tinged dreams.

Even as the physical days grow shorter I feel that they are becoming much longer due to my energy flow.  In the past month or so I've found that I get a lot of stuff done even when I have days (like the one that just past) where I am obliged to scale back on my plans and aspirations.  There is abundant evidence of my personal blessings and these far outweigh the difficulties I've been experiencing.

There's a lot I'd like to share about life's unfoldings but for now I am wishing all readers some portion of sweet dreams...

broadleaf plantain

Readers may remember that Jim and I recently visited some Boston based community gardens on the banks of the Charles River.   When we lived in town we kept a plot in a space that was organized through the Boston Food Co-op.  It's really grown into a wonderful urban paradise in the past 15 years.  For instance, now they have two bee hives and a tiny orchard.

The fenced-in bee yard is bordered with fruit trees and a grape arbor.  The hives are placed along the outside chain link "wall" of the yard.  

I was extremely excited to see the bees; too excited to greet them with proper respect and deference.  Thus, as I leaned over the fence in eager joy and singleminded intent upon getting a close up picture of these beloved gardening friends, one of them stung me as a not so gentle rebuke.  It was definitely no accident; it was abundantly clear to me that I'd been put on notice and told quite firmly to mind my manners.

I absorbed this reproach with a sense of intense chagrin that mushroomed exponentially over the next few days.  This type of behavior was so very unlikely me I had trouble believing it had really happened.  The sting kept reminding me of my gaffe as I repeatedly wondered why I hadn't taken the extra moments to announce myself and get a sense of whether or not what I wanted had an actual place in the larger co-creative scheme of things. 

Directly after the incident I stood in the middle of a carefully nurtured hawthorn grove looking in vain for the stinger.  I never did find it and the sharp ache in my arm was quite distracting for the next two days.   Herbalists know what I did about that, right?

 

Fortunately the moist clay-like soil of the river bank (and my yard here at home) contains an abundance of broadleaf plantain.  This plant is a wonderful healing ally that serves as a powerful drawing agent.  I make plantain cream each year and find it invaluable for stubborn splinters or embedded plant thorns.  Plantain's healing properties will indeed draw the splinter or thorn fragment closer to the surface.  Removal becomes much easier and the skin's healing time is accelerated.

 

I also know any number of folks who rely on the herb for relief from an insect bite or sting.  The drawing power works on heat and itchiness as well as foreign bodies lodged in the skin.   While still at the bee yard I dealt with the situation Old School - chewing on a leaf until it was partially macerated and then holding the mushed results directly on the sting site.  It wasn't a miracle cure but it did make the discomfort level shrink to a shadow of what it might have been otherwise.  

While we're on the subject - Plantain flower essence is a wonderful addition to any electrical medicine cabinet.  Follow the link for a bit more information.  You might also enjoy harvesting the plant's leaves  to infuse in oil (if you do this, try to find some chickweed to include as well.  The combination is wonderful for all manner of itches and scrapes) OR as an inclusion in an herbal vinegar infusion. Such brews produce an excellent digestive tonic. I like to use organic cider vinegar to steep a pint or so of organic raspberries, generous handfuls of plantain and mugwort leaves, and one whole dandelion plant including flowers and root.*  After the infusion has been strained for use, the liquid can be taken 1/2 or 1 teaspoon (start on the smaller end and let your body decide what's right for you) in a glass of water, used in salad dressings, or (my favorite) stir fry marinades.

Making healthful remedies during the summer's harvest season is a wonderful way to 'pay it forward' as preparation for maintaining a balanced healthy body during the colder part of the year.  Having a digestive-friendly vinegar tonic on hand is a boon for the body's metabolic system - especially during the months when it's hard or impossible to find fresh local greens.

* please make sure to use a container with a glass or plastic lid.  If you don't have one and must use a metal lid MAKE SURE to place a doubled layer of waxed paper between the lid and the bottle's mouth.  vinegar is quite corrosive and an unprotected metal lid with rust, thus spoiling the brew.

uncovering

Lately I've been living the truth of things changing radically while also remaining the same.  An example:  flower essences and all manner of co-creative process have once again become the primary themes in my daily world and professional life.  Somewhere in the midst of this rainy unusual summer I have found the bulk of my e-mail and snail mail correspondence relating to essences; it's kind of like the Old Days when I was working on the Handbook and thinking or writing about flower healing potentiality 'round the clock more days than not.  There's a lovely home-coming sensibility to this particular shift and I perceive it informing all the other changes and mainstay points of focus.

Very familiar subjects/life interests can look quite different at times.  Especially when we take a step back from our best known pathways and approach the same end results or topical overviews from different angles.  Maybe we uncover trail markers left in an earlier time.  Perhaps we ourselves made the markers; maybe they were left by those who have proven to be of lasting influence and inspiration.

In the past month I've been quite busy.  It's proven to be an intensely industrious span of activity rather than simply busy-making for its own sake.  There have been no clear cut plans fueling things so much as a continuous unfolding of circumstance & opportunity.  A couple of things I did [attempt to] plan have dropped by the wayside including a backlog of draft-level posts I still want to publish on this blog.  It's all moved from the ongoing aspiration of tomorrow or the next day to whenever that actually happens.

This morning I took some time away from this desk so I could begin excavating the main garden beds.  Everything has grown to monumental proportions thanks to all the rain we've been having.  I find it hard to know where to begin and equally difficult to decide when it's time to stop.  The wheelbarrow helps me gauge how much energy I ought to expend at any given time.  Once it's full I move on to something less strenuous, at least for little while...

I brought my camera on today's walk over to the post office.  Needed to get some images of a particular medicinal herb and, along the way, I took pictures of the seeding Queen Anne's Lace.  The one above will be my screen saver for the next few weeks; reminding me that some activities are not just a means to their own end.  They also set the seeds for a future growing season I can only imagine in the haziest sense from this here-and-now vantage point.

making the most of it

Yesterday Jim and I enjoyed the rare sunlight with a bit of day tripping.  It's always nice to spend some time with the Charles River ...

Wandering with just the barest outline of a plan is fun for us.  Over the years I think we've most successfully learned how to merge our compatibilities and differences by taking time away from our normally scheduled programs.  Being together in an out-of-daily context becomes the context.  And that's both liberating and coalescent.

We took our time standing on the footbridge that crosses Newton Lower Falls.  The water's activity level was a great prompt for meditation. 

On our way home we stopped for some ice cream. 

Jim had a banana split and I had raspberry sherbet.

The highly satisfying centerpiece of our afternoon was a visit to the De Cordova museum in Lincoln.

I've shared some details about the exhibit we saw, and images from the sculpture park, over at nichobella.  Today I am fairly tired from all the activity but also quite well-satiated and ready to percolate with Unknown results of fresh visual and psychic input ...

inside & out

Yesterday I literally woke up in a state of beginner's mind.  It was raining and I found my ears and inner consciousness highly attuned to the atmosphere.  Looking through the window I could see the silver maple branches looming through mist.  The sound of water hitting leaves and grounds has become very familiar here in the northeast.  I am the first to admit that I am not always delighted by it; sometimes I wake up feeling restless for sunlight.

I noticed right away that there was an absence of even a glimmer of that restlessness.  I was glad it was raining.  I felt myself cleansed by it at a psychic and emotional level.   This was like finding a very smooth and super appealing river stone - the kind you have to bend over and retrieve to turn it around in your palm.  You stare as if it's a scrying mirror even if you don't believe in such things.

Later the sun came out and I was even more delighted.   Grabbed my camera to move through the jeweled green and colorful highlights of the garden beds.  It occurred to me that I was remaining utterly willing to stay suspended in the moment.  I wasn't doing anything to be in that place; it's just how I was at the core level.  To my way of thinking this kind of extended trance is always an enormous gift of Self for self as well as the larger environment.

I wasn't planning to share the following life tidbit but, since I think the experience and my reaction to it has so much to do with my state of ongoing zen, I've decided what the hell.  On Tuesday afternoon I was cleaning my kitchen floor.  Right after I started the second rinse I fell.  I hit the floor hard in a fullout belly flop position.  My mind registered the loud and rather sickening smack of my body making contact with the linoleum.  I realized most of weight had landed on my knee (the "bad" one I might add) and that I'd hit my nose pretty hard.

My first fully formed thought was thank god I didn't make floor contact with my mouth.  I might have cracked some teeth.  Then I thought shit.  I said it out loud a couple of times.  That left me free to shake the shock off enough to be practical and start a useful campaign of response. I thought Ice.  Get up off this floor and put some ice on your nose and knee.  As the day progressed into evening I realized I was bruised but not broken.  And, thanks to the ice and how diligently I applied it, I wasn't that bruised, either.

I knew I was going to wake up very sore and, indeed, yesterday was quite slowed down in the physical sense.  Fortunately I was in the middle of reading an excellent novel so that helped me stay quiet and relaxed while my body healed.  This involved wearing glasses more than I usually do so by nightfall the bridge of my nose was pretty damn sore.  Fortunately my knee is doing quite well.  All of me is fine.  And I have had the gratifying experience of re-calling the accident in minute detail for my husband and son.

It's a weird form of satisfaction to take but there's definitely something cleansing about standing on the scene of an accident and going through a play-by-play.  And then I went down, right there.  Look how close I was to the sink!  I could have whacked my head but good on that or the edge of the counter but I didn't!  I do feel extremely lucky about not hitting my head.  And, also, that I fell front-ways rather than backwards.  If I'd done the latter I'm pretty sure I would have wrenched my back and, more than likely, still not able to sit here at my desk this morning.

While I was icing my body I watched a film called Stranded.  It is partially a documentary and also a re-enactment of a South American plane wreck in the early 1970's.  In recent times the survivors traveled to the site of their 72 day ordeal with a film crew and some family members.  This is not a movie for the squeamish or faint of heart but I believe it's an extremely well made film and am quite glad to have seen it.   So many difficult and seemingly 'impossible' subjects were embraced and articulated as an expressive mandala of tremendous significance.

Today I woke up before the rain started.  But now here it is again moving from a soft patter to more serious rhythms.  As I was typing that sentence a female hummingbird approached the window by my desk.  She hovered right above eye level and looked in at me.  This is only the second time I've seen a hummingbird this year. Must be time to change the feeder syrup!

The novel I've been enjoying really was a fully satisfying read.  I learned about it by happening upon a glowing review in The Improper Bostonian while I was waiting for Jim to finish a meeting the weekend we went into town.  I was intrigued enough to list the book in my carry-along all purpose notebook and then request it through inter-library loan.  This is wonderful story of two sisters, culture clashes, unalterable/regrettable choices, and many other things.  Tania James has a sharp and humanistic eye for detail and a profoundly generous heart that's well applied to character development and internalized landscaping.

In recent months I have been collecting a lot of book cover art to keep in my creative source journal.  I am making note of design trends as well as what I like about them.  Sometimes the covers inspire me to play on their themes.  In this case it will be challenging not to mimic what I like in a direct fashion.  Because I've been thinking:  in the atlas of my own 'unknowns' what linear maps of actual places form the backcloth and highlights?  It's a question that's bringing a great deal to mind and so last night I asked my husband - the compulsive map collector - if he had anything on hand that was too worn out to use/obsess over but still whole enough to provide graphic interest.

He told me he'd 'bring the box down' so I could look through it.  I almost clutched at him with excitement.  He has an entire box of such treasures?  I think I sort of knew that without having a clue of how much delighted anticipation I'd feel at the prospect of benefiting from perusal of the cache ...