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Do you love Mary Oliver’s poetry as much as I do? I never tire of reading it. Each poem pulls me away from the hustle and invites me to get outside, to notice what’s happening within and around me, and appreciate and really live in the experience of “this NOW”, as she writes in this poem.
Fall Song by Mary Oliver
Another year gone, leaving everywhere
its rich spiced residues: vines, leaves,
the uneaten fruits crumbling damply
in the shadows, unmattering back
from the particular island
of this summer, this NOW, that now is nowhere
except underfoot, moldering
in that black subterranean castle
of unobservable mysteries - roots and sealed seeds
and the wanderings of water. This
I try to remember when time's measure
painfully chafes, for instance when autumn
flares out at the last, boisterous and like us longing
to stay - how everything lives, shifting
from one bright vision to another, forever
in these momentary pastures.
You can find this poem in the collection American Primitive by Mary Oliver.
Are you familiar with Substack, the platform for writers? It’s a place where you can offer free and paid posts, you can have a podcast and post videos, and also host a community with their chat feature.
I’ve been on the fence about starting one since I’m blogging here and I post on Medium and sometimes on Patreon. (If you are saying to yourself, “She’s spread too thin,” you’re probably right.) So I’m planning on moving anything I write on Patreon over to Substack for paid subscribers.
So many writers I admire have a Substack now. I read a post from one writer yesterday who was responding to complaints from subscribers in her community about having to pay to read her writing on Substack. And how it can add up if one is a paid subscriber of several writers’ Substacks.
She made the point that she has written for free for years and will continue to do so, however, good writing takes time and thought and she believes in the exchange of energy, called payment, between writer and reader. I took some time to absorb what she wrote and I would have to agree with her.
So what’s my plan with this blog? I plan to continue publishing free content here. I love my little quiet, uncomplicated corner of the internet that I have vowed will remain ad-free. The format is simple: my thoughts on life as I experience it, book reviews, wellness, an occasional recipe or something about my business, and photos.
Join as a free subscriber, for a weekly free post and occasional bonus posts. Become a paid subscriber to receive two additional posts and a video each week. I’ll get more personal and go deeper with my paid posts. Paid subscribers also have access to chat which allows us to engage as a community. You’ll also receive invites to future online events such as book clubs, discussions, and hangouts. I’m calling my Substack “Old Soul Stories” and I’ll share where I came up with the idea for this name in a future Substack post. I hope you’ll come on over to Substack and subscribe!
Three of the main things about August 2023 that stand out: live performances, the word ‘torpor’, and fear. And now that I look back I can see that they’re all connected.
Fear:
If there is one subject that came up many times for me in things I read and podcasts I listened to it was fear. If you’ve read the much recommended Big Magic by Elizabeth Gilbert you will recall her writing about how those seeking to invite more creativity into their lives need to choose curiosity over fear. A curious life is an adventurous one. We take a step toward our creative impulses asking “What if?” in a good way and see what unfolds as we bring an idea out into the world.
Fear never tells us to go forward, to try out our new idea, that we are capable, or that we can get past disappointments. Instead fear shuts us down before we start, makes us rethink our idea so much that we abandon it, or tells us why whatever we want to do is too risky. If we live a life led by fear, we will stay small and take as few risks as possible.
As an entrepreneur, I know this, and have to constantly fight with fear in my mind and tell fear to take a back seat before I do anything. I’d be lying if I said fear doesn’t win some of the time. Especially if I’ve experienced a fail or two or a period of low sales, etc. I can begin to doubt my ability to succeed at anything. I know I’m often referencing Brendon Burchard, and it’s because he speaks to the struggles of people in business and motivates us to action.
On a recent podcast about resilience, he says that one of the qualities of resilience is to get back up again and again as soon as possible and continue moving toward goals. The longer we stay down after a disappointment, the farther away we stay from success. And fear will do nothing except keep you down and hold you back. Ugh, right?
Torpor:
The word ‘torpor’ popped into my head in mid-to-late August to describe the energy I was feeling personally, and what I was sensing from others. Sales and interest in what I was offering slumped, everything felt suspended in time. Like we were all waiting for something and withholding decision making and action until whenever that something came.
And then I thought of the torpor which means, according to dictionary.com
sluggish inactivity or inertia.
lethargic indifference; apathy.
a state of suspended physical powers or activities
And, according to the Cambridge Dictionary: the state of not being active and having no energy or enthusiasm. What were we waiting for, I asked myself? The hot weather to end? School or a return to schedules to recommence? The leaves to turn? Sweaters, apples and pumpkin spice everything? Crisp cool evenings around a fire? YES!!! As long as summer remained, there didn’t seem much point in trying or starting anything new. We languidly went from one day to another, without much inclination to do–we simply wanted to BE.
Live performance:
Alan (my husband) and I had several music gigs in August and at each one I felt so fortunate to be able to do this together. If you are a musician or singer you know what it’s like: each new place is an opportunity to win over your audience. And you’re hoping you can so that they’ll enjoy themselves, you’ll find satisfaction in a performance well-executed, and the management will notice and invite you to come back.
One of the highlights of our August gigs was at a winery near Keuka Lake. When we first got there, it seemed a little cramped and like maybe they weren’t going to have a good turnout or much engagement. Within our first hour, an elderly couple came and sat in the front and intently listened to every song. The woman clearly had dementia, as she would ask us the same questions again and again. But she enjoyed the music so much. After each song she would say, “You guys are great!” with a big smile on her face. We felt a little awkward yet honored by this. I think she liked Alan and she looked at him with adoring eyes.
Another party sat midway back on the deck: three middle-aged women and three twenty-something kids. The kids paid close attention to us and sang along, clapping and cheering at the end of songs. FYI, this is highly unusual! Most twenty to forty-somethings are glued to their phones, unengaged and oblivious to what’s happening IRL. This party eventually moved to the lawn to play cornhole, but continued to dance and cheer at the end of songs.
When we said we only had two songs left, I saw one of the girls make a dash for the taproom. A few minutes later, she came up to us, put money in the tip hat, looked me in the eyes and said, “Thank you so much! You guys are really good!”
That made my whole weekend. To have a young person who clearly enjoys music, perhaps is a singer or musician herself, come up and thank us felt incredible. Like we really did our job well enough to reach even the young people. And it made me remember to engage with musicians when we are out listening to music. To clap, to look them in the eye, to smile, to tip. While we were listening to a young jazz trio last night at cocktail bar in Ithaca, I thought how magical live performances of any kind are. All the years and hours of training and practice and rehearsals go into a live performance, a gift for whoever will listen.
And how are fear, torpor and live performance connected? When I allow fear to be in charge of my life, I can get into a state of apathy or inactivity because I doubt I’m any good as a singer/musician, so why even try? Why bother practicing? When I overcome these doubts, tell fear to get in the backseat, shake off torpor, and move forward doing the best that I can do (practice, rehearsal, and performing), the rewards of live performance, or any creativity for that matter, is that I used my energy to create. I didn’t stifle or hide it. And whatever the outcome, I can feel good knowing I did my best and I let curiosity, the “what if?” lead me where it will.
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The Unmaking of June Farrow is one of the most mind-bending and unexpected books I’ve ever read Adrienne Young takes us on a poignant, sensitive and soul-searching journey with the protagonist, June Farrow. This is a lovely tale of a woman discovering who she is, making sense of what is happening to her, deciding where to put down roots, and choosing who to give her heart to in the middle of impermanence.
June is from a family of women who are all expected to go mad at some point in their lives. It’s a curse passed down from mother to daughter. At the start of this story, June has just buried her grandmother who had been showing signs of insanity for many years. Her mother, acting erratically, disappeared years ago, leaving a baby behind. And at age 34, June is already having episodes of what she assumes is the family madness.
June lives in the mountains of North Carolina, where her family has always owned and run a flower farm. Like many other magical realism novels I’ve read in the past few years, this novel includes plants and caring for the land. The mention of various kinds of flowers and how to tend them is sprinkled throughout the book.
When she’s not working on the farm, June has a penchant for research. She has been trying to discover more about why her mother disappeared and where she went. She’s also working on uncovering the mysterious death of a local minister that looms over their small town. With a cryptic clue from her grandmother, and words on an old envelope, June sets off one morning, determined to find answers. Where the path leads her is beyond her wildest imaginings. She will need much courage to face the truth and she’ll discover a love she never thought was possible.
I highly recommend The Unmaking of June Farrow to fans of the magical realism and fantasy genres, as well as those who enjoy Adrienne Young’s writing. You will be captivated by June and her journey. This book will be released on October 17, 2023.
Thank you to Delacorte Press and NetGalley for this advanced reader’s copy in exchange for an honest review.
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In Solo Passage: 13 Quests, 13 Questions, author Glenda Goodrich takes us on her solo journeys into the wild to heal, to seek answers, to uncover truths, to let go, and to become more fully herself.
Going on quests like this isn’t a part of our modern culture, so it seems unusually brave for a woman to begin doing these yearly quests at age 50. And it is! Glenda is such a fantastic storyteller that you will be engrossed in this book from page one.
She takes the reader through the preparation part of each quest: deciding on a campsite, bringing in water and basic equipment on foot, describing the landscape at each site, and explaining how the quests were organized with guides who planned for support and safety and were stationed a mile or so away.
She also writes of the shyness she had in sharing her true self and also the sense of camaraderie she builds with the other women as they gather before to share why they’re going and again at the end of each quest to share their experiences.
During each four day quest, we get a glimpse into her colorful past as she brings a part of her lived experience to light and lets it heal. She faces some really difficult memories, asks questions, and processes her pain in a different way each quest. Sometimes she gets a clear sign; other times her answer comes more subtly. She also shares vivid stories of her interactions with trees, earth, sky, all kinds of animals and insects, and what she experiences while fasting and being exposed to the elements.
She takes the reader on these thirteen riveting adventures with her and with each one she grows wiser, forgives and accepts herself more and more, and becomes more rooted in who she is. Glenda’s writing is so warm, alive, and she’s so down-to-earth and relatable, she invites the reader in and captivates us with her stories.
Solo Passage is highly recommended for midlife and beyond women who are looking for insight into their own experiences, who want to heal and become wise women who can nurture and love themselves and others. If you enjoy memoir and stories about wild places, you will want to read this book.
Thank you to She Writes Press for the Advanced Reader’s Copy in exchange for an honest review!
We’ve heard the saying, “The only sure things are death and taxes”. And change. Change is occurring every day yet we don’t always see it. The seasons. Relationships. Work. Our bodies. Hopefully we’re learning and growing in maturity. And then a dramatic change such as a death of a person we love. Or children move away. Like both of mine have done.
I read the parenting books as my kids grew up, but nothing prepared me for the true empty nest. Although my son hasn’t lived with me since he was seventeen, and my daughter only was with me half the time till she was sixteen, moving across the country felt entirely new. This great grief and feeling of emptiness overwhelmed me when my daughter moved to Chicago in November 2021. When I drove through town or went to the grocery store, everything felt empty and dull, because she wasn’t anywhere in the area. Even though I didn’t see her much for the year before she left, I could imagine her somewhere. Getting sushi or a boba tea with friends, swimming in the creek, working at the ice cream place, etc.
And then she was somewhere big and unknown and having to do everything for herself. The grief exhausted me and I slept a lot for the first couple of weeks after she left. And then I adjusted to life without her. We texted and Facetimed and talked on the phone but that was it except when she visited. And then Alan and I went out and visited her at the end of June. I loved being shown her city through her eyes and what she thought I would like to see and experience.
My son lived only fifteen minutes away from me, but last year he said he wanted to move. After a visit to Colorado last April, he decided that’s where he wanted to go. All winter and spring, I helped him sort through his dad’s belongings and whatever my daughter left behind at the house. And we began to pack. Leading up to him leaving I was so sad; it felt like the same grief I feel when someone dies. So intense.
When he moved in the middle of June, I felt a peace and a sadness. But it hit me hard at the beginning of July. Not only the sadness, but feeling this sense of lostness, of purposelessness. All those years of parenting were really over. If you’ve parented in any capacity, you know how physically, emotionally, and mentally labor intensive child rearing is. Even though you love them with every bit and breath of yourself, you have days when you want it to be over. But you do your best to enjoy your kids at every stage because you know, from what the older parents tell you, that it’ll be over too soon. And then it is. The last time you nurse. The last time you hold them on your lap. The last bath you give them. The last bedtime story. The last kid birthday party. The last sleepover. The last time you remind them to take out the compost. The last time you drive them somewhere. The last teenage tantrum. The last school event.
And I think: no one prepared me for this sense of loss combined with being in my forties and experiencing hormonal and body changes and how high my emotions are running. And how sad and bereft I feel.
This is where I am right now. In this in-between place and time. Reflecting on what has been and questing into the dark to discover what my work and purpose is now. The three woman archetypes of Maiden, Mother, and Wise Woman remind me that I am moving into the Wise Woman stage. Even though I’m still a mother, my children are grown and don’t need all of my energy to keep them alive and well. They can now do that for themselves, and I support them as needed.
So what is the focus of the Wise Woman for herself, with her family, friends, and community? That is what I am becoming, where my path is leading me now. Part of me wants to run away from the pain of death of the old and the waiting time that is necessary for transformation into something new. I’m remembering, in her bookWhen the Heart Waits Sue Monk Kidd writes about the chrysalis that she kept all winter, waiting for the emergence of the butterfly. And this is a book I need to reread for this time.
I’m also reading Walking With Persephone by Molly Remer which is her experience with getting to midlife, making changes, and learning to live fully and find magic and beauty in her everyday moments. These books and other women’s experiences can help me as I navigate the disorienting and unfamiliar.
Isn’t this how life is all the way through if I think about it? As a child, going to school for the first time. Becoming an adolescent, high school, friendships, first jobs, first loves, college. Serious relationships or marriage, having babies and/or careers, giving time and energy to our communities, friends, and extended families. Then older children and teens, and then the sudden clean quiet in a home redolent with the sounds of a noisy, messy little people who once needed so much and now are strong, bold, and smart young adults flying with their own wings.
I asked my therapist how can I make sure I don’t miss the beauty of the now while I wait for my heart to heal from the losses over the past seven years: divorce, leaving my faith community and everything familiar, changes in my health, my former husband’s sudden death last year, my sister-in-law’s death last year, and my kids moving away.
How can I live fully into each moment, even through the tears, even while I grieve and try to make meaning of my small life in an ever-changing, magnificently complex and vast creation? She’s given me three pieces of advice in the past couple of months that I want to share with you in case they help with your own healing:
Honor your experience and those who you love by planting a tree or shrub, having an altar of remembrance, or doing something to honor them.
Do something you enjoy at least every week to remind yourself you are alive
And write about it.
So why am I sharing all of this with you? To tell you that you’re not alone if you’re going through a season of grief of any kind. We are human so we love and we get attached to people and places and to how things are and we want the good things to last forever. And we want the people we love to live forever. We want our bodies to stay young and live forever too. And everything changes. We change. People and places and our roles come and go. And our hearts and minds have to go through the holding on and looking back and move forward and into the letting go.
I’ll leave you with Stephen Guntheinz’s EP ‘The Other Side’. It fits the mood of these musings and I hope you hear and feel the beauty and longing in it.
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When my friend, Laurie Petrisin, announced the release of her children’s book, Acorn and Button, I was so happy for her and couldn’t wait to read it.
A little backstory: Laurie taught my two kids art all the years I homeschooled them. I didn’t have money for private art lessons, so Laurie let me barter with her. I’d bring her gluten free treats, hummus, soup, and other homemade goodies, and she’d give them a generously long art lesson. I’m pretty sure we got the better end of the deal. My kids loved her and learned drawing, color, composition, watercolor, oil painting, and so much more.
This is a picture book about two very different personalities. Acorn is sweet, sensitive, creative, and carefree, while Button is more fastidious, uptight, proper, and careful. Think Frog and Toad, but different. No “I Can Read” stilted wording, for one. And much more colorful illustrations.
So Acorn and Button meet in the woods and become fast friends. They immediately begin having adventures together, make discoveries, and learn about life. Within each adventure is a little nugget of wisdom, even though it’s never preachy. This duo learn about bravery, kindness, creativity, the seasons/cycles of nature, helping each other, making the best of not-so-ideal situations, and more.
Illustrations abound on every page: they’re colorful, action-packed, and lively, so they’ll capture the attention of a range of ages. (I’m thinking ages 6–9, although perhaps a little younger or older.)
And while this is a picture book, it’s also a chapter book. Which means you’ll have a whole week of bedtime stories, although you know they’re going to beg for just one more chapter!
Acorn and Button by Laura Petrisin is full of heartwarming, appealing, relatable characters and stories that will hold your child’s attention and yours as well. I highly recommend this adorable picture book!
And congratulations to Laurie, for all the creative work, thought, energy, and love she put into bringing Acorn and Button to life.
What does being kind bring up for you? Is it paying for the meal or coffee or toll of the person behind you? Is it a hug or refraining from saying something sharp or critical to your friend or family member? Is it words of encouragement? Or making a delicious meal for someone who’s having a hard time?
Those examples are the easy side of being kind. There’s a tougher side to kindness as well.
Being kind can be releasing someone who needs you to let them move into the next chapter of their life. It can be ending work at a place of employment because it’s taking too high of an emotional toll. It can be encouraging yourself to go for a walk when you’re stressed or to eat a nutrition-packed lunch instead of fast food so you’ll feel great the rest of the day. It can be saying something that needs to be said, even though you don’t know how it’ll turn out.
One example of the difficult side of kindness from my own life is helping my 24-year-old son pack and get ready to move out West. My mother heart wants him to stay in this area, close to me, so I can see him, spend time with him, feed him, etc. But that wouldn’t be kindness if I pressured him to stay or to heaped guilt on him for deciding to go. It’s natural and healthy for young adults to leave the nest, to spread their wings, and fly off on adventures of their very own. I did my work of raising him, and now it’s time for him to fly.
Similarly, I didn’t hold my daughter back when she left a year and a half ago at age 18. The kind thing was to help her gather together and pack all the household things she’d need for life on her own. To hug her and say how proud I was of her for being so brave to go after her dreams. And I was there to wave her off down the road. After she left, I had two weeks where I was so exhausted I could hardly leave my bed. When I went to the grocery store or anywhere in our small college town, it felt empty. I was bereft and grieving. And it was ok. I slowly adjusted to it and eventually it became less painful. Still hard, but less intensely so.
I think I will have a period of grieving after my son goes as well, and that’s ok. As we know, the only constant in life is change. Everything is always and ever changing. And back to kindness, I will do the soft, gentle kind things for myself. And I will also encourage myself not to wallow in sadness, but to be grateful for all the years I had with both of my kids and for what beautiful young people they are. I will encourage myself to still practice meditation and yoga, to still move my body, to still eat the carrot salad, the kale, the right amount of protein for me. To dance, sing, laugh, and create. To drink tea and wine, tend my garden, to read and write and celebrate life in all its complex, bittersweet, glorious moments. I will be kind to myself.
What is the most recent you’ve said you don’t have time for? Is it a daily exercise/movement routine, yoga/meditation/prayer, cooking nutritious food, walking outside four walls, learning a new skill, or re-engaging with a hobby or interest?
I’ve said this phrase to myself or others in the past, but these days I use the phrases “I’m not making time for” or “I choose to spend time doing other things”. Because that’s the truth. All of us have time; what we choose to do with it is up to us. (There are some exceptions with amounts of free time based on privilege, of course, and some of the underprivileged among us actually have little to no free time.)
Take in this info though: the average American spends 3 hours per day watching tv and 3 hours and 43 minutes per day on their phones. You may or may not fit the average, but it’s worth pausing and considering whether you fit this picture. Even if you spend half or a third of this time on your phone or watching tv and you swapped that for doing something you love or you know would benefit you, so much in your life could change!
I’m coming clean: there are three interests that I’ve not consistently made time for in the past few years: painting, music (practicing piano & guitar & songwriting), and writing (journaling, blogging, writing poetry and working on my memoir). In my heart and mind I see myself practicing, writing & creating new music, painting something good enough to hang on my wall, and writing a memoir and poetry collection.
All of those are activities I enjoy and desire to do, yet I don’t make time for them. Why? The first reason that pops into my mind is that it takes a lot of energy and focus to sit down and create and the end result will often not be good enough to turn into a finished product. Key words: end result.
There will be plenty of material that I create that will be just part of the creation and learning process — basically only for the experience itself. And that’s where my capitalistic mindset has me. If it’s not good enough to create a product and sell/sing/play/show it then what was the point? Time is money. I’ve heard this over and over. And all that time will be wasted “playing” rather than working.
In her book, The Gifts of Imperfection, Brené Brown talks about 10 Guideposts to Wholehearted Living. One is that wholehearted people make time to play and another is they make time to sing, dance, and laugh. So playing is something I desire to make time for.
And I do dance in the kitchen out of joy or to let out frustration, but when I think about it, I can find production or habit stacking within dance. I don’t consider dancing a waste of time because my body is getting some movement in and burning calories. Another line of thinking that I’ve absorbed from our culture, so built-in it’s automatically how I think.
That’s why a daily physical yoga practice can be a fight in my mind sometimes too. How can I spend 30–60 minutes on movement that doesn’t result in several hundred calories burned ? Because unless it’s hot yoga or Ashtanga, it’s not a high calorie burner for me anyway. So then I still have to get my workout in.
And I’m not a naturally physically active person. I’m the stuck-in-my-head type who’s always thinking, dreaming, reading, etc. I often only work out because, firstly, I’m concerned about my appearance and only secondly, about my health. (More built-in patriarchal and capitalistic thinking. Ugh.)
And it takes mental and emotional energy to override these patterns of how we see ourselves and the world and do something different. To say:
This is not the only way of living life.
I can choose another perspective.
I can do something just for the experience of doing it. There are other benefits outside of production, work, attempting to make my body fit the cultural ideal, or any other unhealthy pressure that has been foisted on me.
I can choose to tend to my mental health.
I can choose to feed my spiritual hunger.
I can strum a guitar or practice piano simply because I enjoy it.
I can sit with a cup of tea and even a piece of something delicious because I crave rest and delight and space to simply be.
I can laugh and dance, talk to the plants, enjoy living.
I will always make time for work because I love it and because I live in this economic system and it’s necessary. I can also choose to make time for wonder, for awe, for rest, for play, for silliness, for being myself. I can take an honest look at how I spend the hours of my days and choose a kinder, slower, more intentional way of living.
I’m starting a monthly post on what themes came up for me during the previous month. Some bloggers write about “What I Learned in (insert month)” and that can make for fascinating reading. Maybe I’m a bit slower than most bloggers because I usually don’t learn lessons that quickly. It takes me some time for me to have a real “aha” moment and discover some deep truth about myself.
For now, I’m going to share all the random, and perhaps not so random, quotes, words, numbers, symbols, animals, etc., that keep showing themselves to me in a month. Sometimes these will carry over from month to month as in the case of the word “luminous” that has been following me around since January 2022 when I began looking for it once a day. And now I can’t stop seeing it!
Ok, so for April…
Luminous continues to be a familiar. Lightness of being. Illumination. Luminosity. And for May’s Kindred Spirits Literary Society poetry pick, I’m recommending the poetry collection Luminous: Poems and Inquiry for the Soul’s Journey by Laura Weaver. I have more discovery and inner work to be done before I experience a luminous quality within me. And the work can’t be rushed. It will unfold as I am ready.
11:11 was an almost daily sighting. 1 is considered a number of new beginnings. And April was certainly that! It was my first month working for myself after leaving the non-profit I’ve worked at since 2/20. So when I started seeing this number every day, I took it as a sign that I am on the right path. And that is one of its messages: “You’re on the right path,”. It’s a big green light. It signifies creativity, spirituality, and intuition, and manifestation.
Sadhguru says that 11 represents anything in the material world. So knowing that and by seeing this number everywhere, the message seems to be that my business is and will continue to be successful and that I made the right choice to focus my energy on growing my business.
Softness was a word that began to crop up toward the end of April. After a New Moon meditation with Camille Maurine I did have a moment of revelation. I saw how I hadn’t welcomed myself, or provided a soft and safe place for all of myself, for much of my life. It was like each time I came home to myself, I would judge myself in the entryway and decide if I should be put in the “Too Much” or “Not Enough” or “Bad” or “Disappointing” rooms. And I have a choice now to welcome myself in without criticism or a good/bad measuring stick, only with love and acceptance. This will likely take some repeating to sink in and I’m committed to it.
Sparrow at our kitchen windows. For weeks, we’ve had a sparrow pecking at and looking in our kitchen windows, which currently don’t have screens on them. I assume this sparrow is looking at his or her reflection, but it seems as if they’re looking in at us. It struck me last week that perhaps our sparrow symbolized something. Here are a few things sparrows symbolize: In ancient Celtic tradition, sparrows were keepers of ancestral knowledge; they symbolize freedom, hard work, good luck, rebirth, love, spiritual connection, in Chinese culture sparrows are harbingers of spring, and in the Bible, the presence of God and the love and care of God for everything.
“Re-examine all you have been told in school or church or in any book, and dismiss whatever insults your own soul…” This is from, again, Walt Whitman and can be found in his preface to ‘Leaves of Grass‘. Maybe this is a sign that I am supposed to read ‘Leaves of Grass‘ again? I haven’t read it since I was in high school and I would read it from such a different perspective at this place in my life. Over the course of the month, I heard it in Yoga Teacher Training, in a book on Permaculture, and in another book I’m reading. Maybe it’s time for me to let some stuff go? Things I believed true for most of my life and now am finding I can’t honestly embrace any longer.
Edges came up several times this month. I read about “living in the margins” or “on the edges” in The Enchanted Life: Reclaiming the Magic and Wisdom of the Natural World by Sharon Blackie. And I heard it mentioned in this For the Wild podcast episode with Rosemary Gladstar where she talked about plants that grow up in places humans move to. In the newly turned up ground, on the edges, plants needed for healing such as dandelion, nettle, and plantain will grow. There are actually two newer episodes in this podcast that mention Edges in the title as well. And in this On Being podcast episode, Barbara Brown Taylor talks about living on the edges within the Christian faith. I think there is more to come with edges and margins in the next few months.
Alright, friends. These are the themes that were woven into April. Did any of these resonate with you? Or what themes came up for you? Please share in comments!
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Life of Kim 