A Salute to Wicked Stepmothers

Looking across Lincoln Park, towards Surroundings and the P & C Market

I love housework. I really do - OK not when I have to rush around. Pushing through housework is hell just like anything hurried. But when I can take my time, I enjoy - and benefit from - the instant gratification. I love how you don't have to be a rocket scientist to clean house, but you do have to pay attention. It's simple work that doesn't take long and can help you feel really good about yourself in just an hour or two. I love the metaphor of cleaning house, too. Clean house, clean mind. It really works!

One of the ideas we explored in Reclaiming was that maybe the evil stepmothers and witches in the old fairytales were originally the teachers and mentors of the heroines in those stories. We suspected that patriarchal censorship was responsible for transforming the teacher/mentors into evil characters. That mindset was very much a part of the feminist spirituality of the 1980's and 1990's. Trying to perceive the story underneath the contemporary versions was a fascinating archeology, eye opening to say the least!

The girls in fairytales always have to clean house and cook for their "evil" stepmothers, which helps them develop strength, skillfullness, resourcefulness, and great character without having any adverse effect on their physical beauty. The pampered stepsisters are always ugly as well as being total losers in every way, but the Cinderellas make out like bandits in the end, marrying the handsome prince and living happily ever after. The take away wisdom is that it's better to work hard than to sit around. I mean really, even Mary Poppins made the kids clean up after themselves.

Lately I'm looking into all the dark corners of my storytelling function, wondering if I could tell myself a different version of my own "truths." I'm not looking for new plotlines in my foundational archetypal fairytales, but rather a different interpretation, the way we worked in Reclaiming with the common myths and fairytales of our culture. Who knows what I might come up with?

To that end I spent a couple of hours this morning sweeping up leaves - from our porch and stairs but also for a couple of the neighbors. The sweeping helped me think, was invigorating, and when I was finished, the pavements were so nice and clear. My mind likewise feels clearer than it has in awhile.

Yep, I believe in the power of simple domestic pursuits. Oh yeah! Thanks wicked stepmothers! Kiss kiss!


Yes dogs can be total squirrels, unable to focus on anything. But sometimes, they are completely present. These dogs were waiting for their humans to come out of Peregrine Espresso this morning. Aren't they sweet?

From the ridiculous to the sublime

On my way to Rodman's yesterday, I happened across a group of "THEM" at Union Station - the people from another reality, those who still miss George W. Bush's administration, folks who come to DC to protest all things Democratic. The crowd I saw yesterday was intent on protesting health care reform. These are people who somehow believe that enriching insurance companies while allowing millions of people to be left out in the cold when they're sick, is a good idea. I honestly try to be very tolerant of diverse opinion, really I do! But with these people I have nothing in common. Absolutely nothing. When I see them, I get so angry.

The pic above features one of the group of THEM. I was hoping to publish an image of another person who was carrying a sign that said, "I'm already sick of Obamacare." But I was so angry that the image came out all blurry. In a fit of intolerance, I snapped at her after taking the photo. I said, "You know, you really ARE sick!" Immediately afterwards I asked myself if that was necessary. I guess it was!

I've never understood why people like Trader Joe's so much. For my money, Rodman's is a lot more fun. When I go into Rodman's, like some burned out stoner I wander the aisles completely transfixed by all the cool, weird, unusual jars and boxes of food thingies from all over the world. They call it "gourmet" but I think it's more of a collection of oddities. It's such a fun place. A visit to Rodman's serves as an excellent tonic for the bitter taste THEY leave in my mouth.

Later in the afternoon, a rainbow appeared, along with some of the strangest, most ethereal light I've ever seen. It was so beautiful that it completely cleared the energy of THEM from my energy field.

It's a shame to be so hostile, isn't it? I try to be tolerant of all opinions, I really do. Sometimes, though, I can't find the high road, no matter how much I want to. Thank God for Rodman's and for the unexpected beauty of a late afternoon rainbow. I really mean it: Thanks God!

Re-entry

I cried over beautiful things knowing no beautiful thing lasts. --Carl Sandburg

The exquisite slow-motion fall of the midatlantic has passed its peak. There's still lots of autumn color out there to be sure, but upon careful examination I can say with confidence that the point of greatest color is over. Tonight it's supposed to get down in the 30s, almost down to freezing, which means the last of the mosquitoes will finally be gone for the season.

We had a beautiful summer I could not in any way enjoy because of Jake's death, and a beautiful fall I have been almost afraid to appreciate (for fear it would bring back the sadness and grief of last summer). But the wheel of the year is turning, whether or not I take notice, so this week, I opened my eyes and ears, took my time, connected with the weather and the season.

Twice this week I walked like I used to with Jake, strolls that included frequent stops, a lot of sky gazing, tree gazing, street gazing. It was really great. All that looking around, listening, and sniffing the air helped me relocate myself in space/time. Does that make any sense? I even dared to look at the world of reflections a bit, reminding myself that Jake would not appear in any of the reflections.

It was OK. More than OK, actually. I am healing - at my own pace - but it is happening. Life is good and I am grateful. Onwards & upwards to winter.


Tennessee Avenue in late afternoon which, at this time of year is about 3:30 p.m.

Lust for Life

The season of the Dead is slowly winding down - thank God. In fact my experience this year was somewhat disappointing in terms of the Ancestors. Ordinarily I get great advice from my beloved Dead. I can always count on my father, for instance. Every year when I settle down, get very quiet and ask from my heart of hearts for some wisdom, I "hear" my father's voice telling me many extraordinary things. But not this year for some reason. His advice was more about his own experience of life than anything that had to do with me. What was that about?

Jake came to me, too, as I sat with candles burning and incense swirling, during my Samhain trance. He told me not to grieve for him because it holds him here. This is not helpful. I'll grieve at my own pace, if you don't mind, Jake! I can't cut it off just because you want me to. He then suggested that I get another dog, in other words he wants me to let him off the hook. Seemed a little bit cold blooded to me.

The best, and the only relevant advice I received on the Day of the Dead was from human beings firmly planted on this side of the veil: friends, family and colleagues, many of whom said the smartest things. Hmmm. Go figure.

Perhaps what I need as I shuffle forwards into old age is to seriously throw in my lot with the living (finally). Maybe I need to exclusively hang out with other beings of flesh and blood, until the day comes when I leave my body. Do you think? What a concept! Wow.

Stroll

Do you think someone specifically arranged these leaves into a soggy bouquet?

Though I prefer to have a walk built in to my routine, the truth is, I no longer have any such thing. OK. I must make time and space to do the healing work of wandering aimlessly, outside, every day.

And so I did yesterday afternoon, just before dark. I walked, stopped, stared at the sky, noted the progression of the season, sipped the air and marveled at the beauty of the city where I live.

Fall lasts a long time in Washington DC. Though many of the sugar maples and American elms on Capitol Hill have ditched their leaves, the oaks are only now beginning to toss their heavy foliage. When the oaks start shedding, look out! You could be buried in an avalanche of oak leaves, you could! The ginkoes are just coming into their prime goldness. In a week or so the streets will be littered with little yellow fan-shaped leaves. And so on. The important thing is: I took the time to notice. Oh yeah.

I'm very glad I didn't completely miss fall, all caught up in my thoughts, worries and reminiscence as I have been recently. From now until Thanksgiving, when the last of the leaves fall, I'm going to pay attention. Be here now, Reya, be here now!

AUTUMN MOVEMENT
by Carl Sandburg

I cried over beautiful things knowing no beautiful thing lasts.

The field of cornflower yellow is a scarf at the neck of the copper sunburned woman, the mother of the year, the taker of seeds.

The northwest wind comes and the yellow is torn full of holes, new beautiful things come in the first spit of snow on the northwest wind, and the old things go, not one lasts.

(Poem shamelessly lifted from Steven's blog, The Golden Fish. Thanks, Steven!!)

Boxy

We modern American people spend too much time indoors, too much time in boxes, staring at boxes like TVs and computers, eating food from boxes. Even reading involves staring at a box of sorts. Any vision of the natural world is seen through windows that are usually square and reveal a box shaped world. We are boxed in. As my friend Sharon Austin would say, It ain't right.

One of the most important components of my Plan to Stay Sane is this edict: Spend Time Outdoors. And I do, but not nearly as much as I used to. When I worked at Healing Arts, my commute was a 25 minute walk. Though I did not enjoy that walk when it was 100 degrees or during an icy rain with lots of wind, almost every other day of the year I benefitted from all that fresh air, natural light, and weather. Now that I work across the street, and especially now that Jake is gone, there is no walk built-in to my day.

I still walk every day, but somehow I'm not paying as much attention to the world around me as I used to. It might be that I'm not slowing down the way I had to with Jake (since he was compelled to stop and sniff, and perhaps pee several times on every block). With Jake I always had to stay alert; he might take off after a squirrel or a UPS truck might pull up right in front of us. Jake did not like UPS delivery people, oh no. So I was always mindful when I walked with him.

Now I can wander around and stay in my head the whole time. I can walk fast and furious like other Washingtonians. There are benefits from that, but it also means I've kind of lost touch with the rhythms of the landscape. For instance I was astonished yesterday to see that, sometime in the last few days, since I took the pic attached to yesterday's post, the trees in the little triangle park across the street have ditched their leaves. Below is a pic of the same trees, taken yesterday. Wow. When did that happen??

My days off this week will be busy. I have errands to run, I'm going to do some teaching, cook dinner, plan a workshop and go see a neighbor about a ghost who is really bugging her, but I'm also determined to take a long walk, as if Jake was with me, during which I'm going to look around, reconnect with the trees and sky. I've got to get outside the box! Or else!!

Holiday Season? I say Bring It!

I love the end of daylight savings time, love having that "extra" hour in the morning. I love being able to stay in bed until the sun actually rises. There's something so wrong about getting up while it's still dark, at least my body thinks so.

Later today I will hate the end of daylight savings time, because at 5:30 it will be completely dark even though the sun did not set until 6:30 yesterday. It always feels a little bit rude to me for a few days, until I adjust.

Halloween was cheerful here on Capitol Hill. There were lots of trick or treaters early on, but a nice steady rain later in the evening discouraged the people who come out later, a very good thing since the cute little kids walk the streets early while after 8:00 or so the people ringing the doorbell are always scary looking teenagers who don't even bother to put on costumes.

Seeing little kids in their outfits is always such a hoot but even funnier, to me, is to see adult Washingtonians, always so reserved and blah in appearance (no offense to anyone, but DC is not about flair or style), decked out in funny clothing and outrageous make-up.

Halloween was fun, but it's over now which means in the U.S. we are officially launched into the holiday season. Soon I will have to dust off my Hugh Grant movies, get them queued up and ready to watch. Strangely I am not dreading the holidays this year. In fact, I have a good feeling about them. I might enjoy the holidays this year, I really might. Go figure!