Flu-like symptoms

I'm a bit under the weather today. I parked myself on the sofa, spent the day there, reading mostly.

I didn't clean.
I didn't cook.
I didn't work (had to cancel some clients).
I didn't walk around.
I didn't take any pictures which was OK since it was lightly raining off and on.

But I guess no matter what, I blog. So be it. Shalom.

Discovery

My mother loved science and science fiction, too. She loved thinking about space travel and warp speed and beneficent beings from other planets. I remember when we were kids and were still able to see stars and the Milky Way from our suburban Kansas City backyard, she would have us lie on the grass, gaze at the sky. She would talk about the movements of the planets, how fast the earth spins and twirls around the sun, about how many years it takes the light of distant stars to reach us. Her voice was sure and steady and she would go on and on while we kids lay there totally transfixed by the beauty above us, lulled by the sound of her voice. She took us on many a trance journey to outer space. Carl Sagan himself could not have done a better job! There were times when I found myself holding tight to the grass, as if I might suddenly fly off, onwards and upwards to the stars.

My mother would have LOVED this morning, on the national mall, watching the final flight of the space shuttle Discovery. I thought of her often, standing in the dust, surrounded by a bunch of highly convivial folks who, like me, really wanted to see this thing that has been coming and going from earth to space for 27 years, piggy-backed on a 747. We cheered as the shuttle circled the mall. We smiled. We took a million pictures.

I'm sure if you google "space shuttle DC monuments" you will find at least 10,000 pics. It was a sight to see! I did snap a few shots but mostly what I did was stare and cheer. The flyby was at 1500 feet. It was so close I felt I could reach up and touch it. I opened my eyes wide and took it in.

It was rather thrilling. Very nice!


Waiting

The Real Thing

Everybody's a shaman. Everyone senses, at some level, the flows of energy in which we live and move around every day. Everyone responds in his or her unique way to those flows which is why at the supermarket when you suddenly get an urge to go stand in line, everyone else in the store does the same thing. Or you're out walking around. You think, "I'm going for coffee." There's no line at the espresso bar but 2 seconds after you order, 20 people have lined up behind you. They had the same thought, responded to the same shift in the energetic flows. Check it out. You know what I'm saying is true. That's how astrology works. The huge beings who share our solar system move forwards and backwards, wax and wane. We dance in shamanic alignment with them, going retrograde occasionally, and such.

Dancing in shamanic alignment with the flows of energy within and without is the birthright of every human being. We do it whether or not we're in a mood to admit it, which makes every one of us a shaman.

There are different stripes of shaman, though. If you google "shaman definition" you'll see a bunch of different ideas. There are those of us who dance, and then there are those of us who mediate between the world of spirit and the world of humans. I fall into that second category. Every healer is also a mediator, every healer tries to wedge themselves between the cause of suffering and the person suffering. I'm speaking energetically of course.

Anyway I'm thinking about it because I have had the craziest shamanic week! Good lord. Here's a true story from this week. I went to see the Sufi acupuncturist on one of his last days in the office space he has occupied for six years. On the way into the building I noticed something smelled good but I didn't give it much thought. When I walked in the office, the first thing I noticed is that everything was off the walls and out of the space except for the bare necessities - a couple of chairs in the reception area and a folding table, laptop, a phone. That was it. The Sufi acupuncturist was standing in reception when I breezed in. He turned to me and said, "Oh! You're wearing (some Chinese word)." I was confused. He said, "It's the scent in Chinese medicine that cleanses energy." I said, "I'm not wearing any scent." He took a step closer and sniffed me, nodded, then said, "But you can smell it, right?" I could! It was that good smell from the sidewalk. I said, "I noticed it smelled nice outside." He then went to the door to his office, leaned out into the hallway and smelled, shook his head slowly. I said, "It smelled nice outside but not in the building."

When he explained that the scent is used for cleansing, I remarked that it was the perfect energy for him in his office on one of his last days there. And then we commenced with my session.

Stuff like this happens to me all the time, but sometimes it still astonishes me. A smell hitches a ride with me into the acupuncturist's office? How can that be? Where did the smell come from? How did it recognize me? How did it wrap itself around me? I will never know.

I could go on and on about my shamanic week, but you get the picture. Emboldened by recent experiences, I've been dancing around with the allegedly powerful rainstick, sadly to no effect. It is hot and dry in DC; it's supposed to reach 90 F. today. Yes indeed I am a shaman and yes of course I will do my part to bring rain, but it isn't up to me, is it?

May your day be magical in wonderful ways. Shalom.

Grist for the Mill

Everybody has one; a wound that cuts deep. It's something that's not possible to cure, yet isn't serious enough to be fatal. Dealing with these wounds is a part of every human life. I'm not sure how to refer to this phenomena. I wonder if there is an official name for it. It can be anything - a physical limitation or incapacity, or lifelong ailment - inherited or whatever, some problem with the mind/heart, i.e. mental illness. It can involve circumstances in the environment of the individual, a history of trauma of one kind or another, heartbreak, loss, success. It's hard to pin down where it will come up, but at the end of the day what I see is that everyone has a wound they struggle with throughout their lives, never triumphing over it but neither are they defeated.

In the best of circumstances, it's from working with the essential core wound that people become wise, kind, compassionate, patient. These issues work on us as we work on them, polishing, grinding us down sometimes, making us smarter if we pay attention. We are such powerful beings, sometimes I wonder if hardship and humbling is necessary in order for us to pay attention. Is suffering necessary for the gathering of wisdom? You tell me, I have no idea.

One thing is for sure - it's universal, this idea of a wound that will not heal, will not kill. Of course I love the King Arthur version of this myth, the story of the Fisher King. I could name several from other times and places. Poor Chiron, for instance. One of my favorite versions is a tale told about Shiva from the Hindu myth cycle. A terrible demon pours poison onto the earth. It is so toxic, it could kill every living creature. Shiva, knowing that swallowing the poison will kill him, nevertheless drinks the toxic brew, holding it in his throat without swallowing, for ETERNITY, saving himself and the world. In this state they say he sits in peaceful meditation until the end of Kaliyuga.

Bloody hell, that Shiva is something else, hey? Whoa.

I'm realizing, about this latest bout with my personal fisher king wound, that acceptance and soothing is the best option at this point in life. I've worked valiantly to heal this thing completely since young adulthood. I'm so glad I tried so hard. You wouldn't believe how many years I spent exploring it in therapy. I have a very thorough understanding of it, but, it's still there. It's essential, it's in my blood and bones. I am ready at long last to stop trying to work through it. Instead I will endeavor to make space for it, so it doesn't encumber me during the decade of my 60s. It's a worthy goal!

Does the above sound negative? I'm not feeling that at all. I'm practicing patience with myself, also receiving a LOT of acupuncture, dreaming and drawing on the ipad. Is it helping? Well - ask my brainstem, please. My mind has no idea. That's probably for the best! Shalom.

Empty

I just realized today is Friday the 13th. Oh my ... my mind is always the last to know!

As usual for me, it was a lovely day that included some work with a beautifully pregnant client, a session with a student and a more prolonged walk this afternoon than I thought I could manage. People are out there choking on the oak pollen but I'm holding steady. Not wishing to look a prize horse in the mouth, all I want to say is thank God! My recipe this year includes a LOT of acupuncture. It really makes a difference, at least for me.

I've been quiet lately. Wish I could say that's because I've been deep in philosophical ponderings. I've been kind of ... blank, I guess is the right word. Things are cooking within, but it's down there somewhere in the Marianna trenches of the Reyaverse that I'm doing my pondering. It is not intellectual, it is not the kind of contemplation that tickles the mind. It's deep and profoundly mysterious.

In the midst a bad green dust day this week I closed the windows, cranked up the "Angus and Julia Stone" station on Pandora, and did some spring cleaning. The overstuffed rocker that was one of my favorite pieces of furniture ever, the chair that eventually became Jake's bed and then moldered in my bedroom after he died, finally went out to the sidewalk. In its heyday that chair was the best. But it got worn down, as furniture does, and then when Jake occupied it, he trashed it completely. Nevertheless, it was scooped up almost immediately when placed on the sidewalk, of course. Onwards and upwards!

I read somewhere that when the Mona Lisa was being exhibited in Japan, people lined up at the Louvre to look at the place on the wall where, for a brief time, it wasn't. Every time I walk in the bedroom I look at the place where the overstuffed rocker that was Jake's bed isn't.

This is kind of where I've been for a few days, staring at the places where something isn't.

Today some of the exotic fruits that can only arise after a barren season have made themselves conscious. For instance, I figured out how astrology works. I am very happy to finally get it - that the planets are not doing anything TO us. My first teacher of astrology said that all the time. Now I know what she meant. Cool. And that's not the only thing I figured out!

I guess a fallow period is a good thing, hey? Shabbat shalom, y'all. Peace.

Blame it on the Planets

Are you holding steady this week? According to the astrologers I know, it could be a rather strenuous week, but so far, I'm hanging in with the energy. I guess I should be prepared to duck and cover, but so far, so good.

Here's what one of them said yesterday:

Pluto goes retrograde today and Mars is about to station direct. The planets of power (Pluto), and passion (Mars) demand our courage as they initiate us into change. Stare fear in the face and invoke courage as you ride the waves of this rocky week.

Good lord! This is from someone I would characterize as a 'feel good' astrologer.

Maybe all the emotional struggling I've been engaged with of late (around my relationship with my mother) has strengthened me for this week, or rendered me unable to sense the energy. Or maybe the planets aren't going to be as demanding as they're supposed to be. Who knows? One of my ongoing life mottos revolves around finding a way to blame the planets whenever things aren't going the way I wish they were. The planets are large beings who could give a rat's ass about our opinions of them, at least this is true in the Reyaverse.

I hope your week is unfolding smoothly. May the commotion overhead settle down. Mars and Pluto: shake hands and make nice, please! Shalom.

Snow Day

The oak pollen is flying fast and furious through Washington DC. Brother Wind is pushing the pollen into every crack and crevice which, I suppose, is the point. But much of the green dust is airborne since it has been way too dry in DC lately. Ah-choo!!

Once upon a time, not that long ago, I would have tossed myself into the fray even though I am severely allergic to oak pollen. I would have been outside, walking around, taking pictures, sneezing, blowing my nose endlessly, cursing the trees, or conversely, begging for mercy in the midst of their springtime orgy. Ignoring the truth of cause and effect, once upon a time I would have made myself sick as a dog on a day like this. I used to be so cruel to myself.

I remember a day like today, a couple of years ago, when I plummeted into anaphylaxis. I staggered into the fire station at Eastern Market, barely able to croak "Call 911." Firemen are excellent - they immediately said "We ARE 911." They gave me some Benadryl and watched me closely as the symptoms lessened. Thank god for firemen! Thank god for Benadryl. It's not good for you, but if you have allergies, it can save your life. Someone told me recently that if you chew the pill, make sure it gets under the tongue, it will be absorbed more quickly.

Today will be a "snow day." I will do some spring cleaning, watch movies on netflix, that sort of thing. I will watch the oak trees waving in the wind outside my tightly closed windows. In this way I will do a kindness for myself, protect myself. Oh yeah.

Happy snow day, y'all!