A spoonful of Thomas Moore, "natural magic", reading the tea leaves

Every once in awhile life, the path, what is lived as 'normal' is blocked, and good health goes on vacation. It happens for every one and is unique for each of us. Some days the changes and challenges are like the common brightly yellow painted speed bump we drive over them slowly or as quickly as we dare; we forge ahead. Other days there is no gas for the car to take us over the rise, and no energy within to attempt one more everyday. "Being without spoons" has been a way for me to describe and accept some of those days when energy both within me and in my vehicle of choice are absent. Have you ever noted, and counted the actual number and variety of literal spoons you have in your kitchen? Maybe on a day when you have little else pressing on my list, you might ... check your spoons.

It's a different sort of day today, lots of rest and walking around without glasses (because the new Progressive lenses are problematic) helped; not working at the computer helped more; and then filling the evening with two fun and funny movies pressed the joy buttons enough while I mixed and baked Spice Cake. Then this morning after a night of amazingly vivid dreams about old friends, houses divided and being in the flow I climbed out of the vardo and pulled up a radio broadcast from the program New Dimensions. Originally broadcast on Sunday, April 20, 2014 this is a conversation between co-founder of New Dimensions Justine Willis Toms and Thomas Moore.  Moore discussed his newest book A Religion of One's Own. 

Listening to this conversation was just the spoonful of common, or natural magic I needed to continue living life as makua o'o, a religion of my own. At one point late in the hour-long program Moore describes his practice of employing 'natural magic' in his personal religion. Moore told his audience about doing his doctoral studies and writing his dissertation, which focused on 'natural magic" of Renaissance Europe; a highly developed practice used throughout culture of that era which we have largely lost. Encouraing the use of techniques within the realm of 'natural magic' Moore said these practices "spark your imagination... and allow you to go to a place where you can explore things that you can't if you stay with your mind." As he described one of his magics, that of reading tea leaves, I felt the settling acceptance of times/days/periods/lifetimes when being without spoons is the natural-est thing in the world. A bee resting for a nanosecond in its incredibly busy life is perhaps, an equivalent to my day(s) without spoons.

Off-line and out of spoons

It's one of those raw and rough patches for me right now, with very few spoons to manage. Elephants have come to get me through and one of them is named Hannah. Author Diane Hammond has written a beautiful story Hannah's Dream, the sort of book that can draw the tears out of hiding and let the healing happen. If you click on the link above it will take you to a cache of reviews about this love story, view of life and aging, and the inseparable connection between beings. A hui hou, until next time.

In the eddy or under the cowlick

"In fluid dynamics, an eddy is the swirling of a fluid and the reverse current created when the fluid flows past an obstacle. The moving fluid creates a space devoid of downstream-flowing fluid on the downstream side of the object." Wikipedia

A cowlick is a section of hair that stands straight up or lies at an angle that odds with the style in which the rest of an individual's hair is worn. Cowlicks appear when the growth direction of the hair forms a spiral pattern. The term "cowlick" originates from the domestic bovine's habit of licking its young, which results in a swirling pattern in the hair. The most common site of a human cowlick is in the crown, but they can show up anywhere. They also sometimes appear in the front and back of the head.^[1] The term cowlick dates from the late 16th century, when Richard Haydocke used it in his translation of Lomazzo: "The lockes or plaine feakes of haire called cow-lickes, are made turning upwards." [2
-Wikipedia 

The Full Moon and Lunar Eclipse earlier this morning happened behind cloudy skies as we slept. But no matter, the effects of the full illumination and momentary shadow created by the Sun's grandeur was felt none the less. The water and light within will rise to the surface whether we see it or now. My dreams have been deep and illuminated ones, shining on the patterns of old they do bring up the cowlicks in my psyche, the ones I kid myself about "Oh I'm so over that!" or hide under hats so no one sees the pattern. But of course, others see the cowlick, I am under the cowlick and the errant locks are out of my site not out of yours! The original post "What do you call a cowlick ... " I wrote continues to be one of this blog's favorites. The irony of that does not escape me.

The other day I sat for lunch with a friend. We'd brought our separate repasts: an omelet rolled and sliced making it handy finger food for me; cubes of what looked like beef with broccoli bits for my friend. Pete and I had driven up the island for a once-in-awhile appointment and this meet up was one of the add on benefits for the two hour drive. He dropped me off for my lunch chat, said hello to my friend and left us to my time. My friend is making some very big life changes, leaving a long-time pattern of being, doing and believing she is now making her way out. Over bites and swallows of omelet and beef bits we shared stories. At one point my friend said, "I'm in the eddy and not sure what ..." and I'm not quite sure of what she said exactly. What I heard was a friend describing what it's like to make new choices and break from the flow of a once satisfying and proper fit-for-her-life. Not fit at all on the afternoon we shared a lunch, I listened to her quandary. 

What I heard was a woman, mother and once-wife describe the wrestle with becoming a success in the world designed by man when it is the eddy of female that is asking her to wait and give birth to her woman-who-has-waited all those years. There were some bits of information that seemed timely to pass to her while we sat on the bench, she in her eddy, me a loving older woman who has fought my cowlicks or flailed in the swirl so many times! We talked about investing large sums of money into 'higher education' with the culture of debt an inevitable future. Was that the future she wished to commit to? What might you have learned through real-life as a pioneering off-the-grid mother of many, farmer, gardener and gatherer of people that could be the fertile ground for birthing the woman-in-the-eddy? I had a conversation weeks earlier with a practitioner with decades of experience in a field my friend was intrigued with. The money to support her training, and the time to study were challenges. That feeling of being in an eddy with the reverse current created  ... that was how my friend was feeling. Sometimes what looks like an unending dervish is BEFORE "when the fluid flows past an obstacle." Women experience this each time they birth a child through a vaginal delivery. It's what women are made to do.

Ever find yourself in the eddy or under the cowlick?

A bit of silliness for spring

 Two old friends sat with hands dancin', and tales winding. There was pie to be had and time for catching. So much of it had passed since we have been together.

 We talked of things that make time slow, and one to the other said, "We let the purple dragon fly under the green awning. The green awning that replaced the big strippy umbrellas ... it has a purple dragon now. For company. We feed the dragon every time we walk out the door!"
"Wow," my old friend said.

 And just because we have a purple dragon to feed, I must have thought why not make my new glasses

Purple, too!

De-colonize and re-birth the stories: perfect food for New Moon in Aries

Living Mo'olelo ... Brandy Nalani McDougall 

(Link to the TedX video of this young, wise and talented poet Kanaka Wahine born in Kula, Maui by clicking above.)

The New Moon in Aries is a powerful red one. The month of Aries, the first born astrological sign is always about spring, being born, reborn. In the woods of Langley where I am now, the New Moon and Dark Moon of Aries began with a morning of cleansing before setting new intentions. Rather than walk the western shore with my old friend, we rescheduled and I took myself onto the trails Deer and Coyote walk not far from my wheeled and curved moehale (sleeping place). I prepared myself for ritual and ceremony dressed in a long red flannel robe a gift to me years ago, a hand-me-down from a dear old friend. Around my head a red silk scarf also a hand-me-down which was also aired, washed and hung to rid scents that I cannot tolerate, kept me warm as the air was still cool from the heavy rains the night before.

March has been a cycle of many dreams, old and clinging ones that have long out-lived their nurturing values for me. The seductive career within the corporate walls; an even older connection to a 2nd grade classroom at Pearl Harbor Elementary; and older still my Cesarean-section birth which left me with what mystical physician Christine R. Page describes as " a variety of challenges depending on the reason for the procedure." Page credits the work of authors and rebirth experts Sonda Ray and Bob Mandell with this mana'o which I found in her book.

"Those who were born at the convenience of the doctor or mother may have difficulty making their own decisions, resentful of being manipulated because of the needs of others. On the other hand, those who were delivered by an emergency C-section due to fetal or maternal distress may suffer from "interruption syndrome," where, however hard they try to push forward on their own course, they find they are constantly facing unseen interruptions. Most children delivered by C-section crave touch and hugs, as they never received this during the passage through the vagina."

Onto a sheet of journal paper, the journal paper I have finally found to suit my promise to the trees (unbleached and minimally processed and consciously harvested), I wrote the stories I wished to clear from me. I wrote the stories that needed to be given back to Papa Hanau Moku ... Mother Creator ... Earth. A large cup of well water from the land we live on filled a pink mug. The water also included a tea of hibiscus ... a last minute talisman and reminder of hibiscus flowers and hedges that I no longer experience in the daily today.

Praying for guidance I chanted E Ho Mai, and found the place to complete my cleansing ceremony. The old stories written onto the journal page I folded into a paper cup. With my boots planted on the mossy forest floor (maybe next month it will be warm enough for me to be barefooted) I asked for permission to give the stories back ... recycle and let go of their affect upon my present and my future. I lit the paper cup filled with the old story of corporation seduction, an enclosed classroom style of teaching, and the purple baby girl who was born through C-section with no clear understanding about 'why.' It makes no nevermind why ... it matters that I can release and re-birth my power as makuahine now.

The burned prayers fell into the well-water in the pink cup. When the flames were doused I made a narrow trench around the base of a two-year old Douglas Fir our land mates and I planted last year. Into the trench I poured the water and burned words and covered all up. The prayer was released, the kapu lifted. The ceremony was done. I waited. I listened. I left the release. Instead of walking into or bobbing in warm salt water to refresh, the small shower stall with warm water served me nicely. My la'i the green ti leaf plants and the portrait of my mother live in that shower room. They were company, welcomed company.

That was yesterday. Now, the cycle of Aries starts with new seed, new inspiration, a fresh womb for new babies. The poetry and mo'olelo that leads this post is that of Brandy Nalani McDougall. As I prepared myself for the New Moon I listened to her tell. She is a young woman and an example of the daughters I would be proud to call my own. It is valuable for me to hear and be inspired by the young. My Hawaiian World is deep, wide and crosses oceans. I eat her stories, they nourish me. I tell my stories new and they nourish me, too.  A new cycle begins. E Ola Mahina.

Ceremonies for the New Moon (in Aries, March 30, 2014)

It's never too late to learn new things, and learning more about this female body is an ongoing event and remembering process. Our regular Readers to Makua O'o may have noticed I'm here less and less in the recent months. I do this disappearing act periodically retreating into the deep cave to restore or reestablish my equilibrium. This recent retreat has been a focus on giving birth to my newest story. The birth, like that of birthing any and all children is both a painful and exhilaration plus the added experience of having several especially chosen mid-wives to welcome the child-story. My attention will continue to nurture and support the rearing of that work.

Fueling me as I learn new things I have found the work and ceremonies offered by Christine Page to be such valuable support. I am reading her book The Healing Power of the Sacred Woman. Here is an excerpt from Page's book "Ritual No. 1 Cleansing and Purification: Separating the Gems from the Compost" in which Dr. Page describes a New Moon Dark Moon ritual for women. For many years now I have attended to the cycles of the Moon Mahina, and used the practice of astrology to set new intentions for the coming cycle of 29.5 days-nights. With the New Moon in Aries coming up this Sunday, March 30, 2014 I will be adding a different (for me) ceremony to my usual focus of setting new intentions for the newest moon cycle thanks to the study of Page's work.

"Whether during menstruation or during the dark moon for postmenopausal women, the first step to the cleansing process is to share the stories. An ideal scenario is for women to gather together in sacred circle, perhaps creating a "Rent Tent" menstruation hut, or simply a place of nurturing where food and creature comforts are in abundance, although this process can also be carried out alone...the first condition of telling a story of our life is to take ownership of its creation..." Page continues and adds a list of questions to prime the creative pump before sharing the story concentrating as she suggests on events of the past month. A few of those questions are:

• What dreams or fantasies am I holding onto that will never be fulfilled?

• Where am I giving love in the delusional belief that it will be reciprocated?

• What expectations do I carry that can never be fulfilled?

• Where am I still attached to my own stories from the past because they evoke emotions such as anger, pain, disappointment, and shame?

• What seeds of wisdom do I need to glean from the situation that will allow me to move on?

I am a storyteller. It is such valuable feedback to be reminded that some dreams will never be fulfilled. I tend to hold fast to people, things and memories that will never be born. Holding fast to stories because they make me feel what is unthinkable in the light of everyday? Yes, I do that to my detriment UNTIL I create a mythic adventure where I can be another person, someone else's daughter or a near-sighted monkey like Lynda Barry.

At 66, this moon cycle completing, the one that began with The New Moon in Pisces has been a cycle of spring-time awakenings. Before setting new intentions for the next cycle, the cleansing process needs to happen. I am ready to pitch "The Red Tent" and tell the stories not to repeat myself or to hear myself talking. With this cycle I wish to clean things up before moving on. Goddesses willing my old friend and I will share the shore along the west-side of Whidbey, tell some stories and leave behind what no longer serves the Sacred Woman. It's good to know there's room for remembering the valuable lessons that Papa Honua Mea (the Great Earth Mother) offers.

Then, the Aries New Moon can be one where we set intentions to suit the nature of that First Astrological Sign.

 

Who DO I write for?

"The full moon takes place on March 16th, midday, at 26 degrees Virgo.  I like the look of this. It’s elegant.  You may be able to ground a good idea at this time." - Elsa P.

"The magic and the medicine of stories flows or is stopped at the border for another time, or for some other. I write because that's part of the remedy that keeps me fluid rather than brittle, tickled rather than tortured or torturous and I keep learning something through the process. With practice I gain some confidence with the ups and downs of the creating and loosen my grip on perfection. The magic and medicine remains lively and ownership is not part of the prescription. I write for the younger me who didn't have the words to speak in language forbidden by laws made up by missionaries with a bible and paper to take and bury the protocol and practices of common magic -- elemental wisdom. I write for my mother and my father, my aunties, my mango trees. I write to make space for Grace." - from my blog and medicine story The Joy Weed Journal

When I began my apprenticeship as makua o'o with Aunty Betty there were so many puka -- holes-- in my understanding of life. My lineage and my history only half-baked. I was freshly wounded from a divorce that ended more than twenty years of marriage. I was wearing the wounds of victim, but would not become ready to let the past go for many years. What I knew as 'success' became something I picked up again. But the apprenticeship as an elder in training would work on my beliefs and my understanding about the Hawaiian, the culture that is as ancient and resilient as water; and in the apprenticeship I would learn the language.

The language and culture of a people forbidden by an oppressor is an old, and pervasive practice. It happened in Hawaii with the coming on the Anglican missionaries. The effects have devastated us, and then when the source of the original assault were forgotten, we assaulted ourselves out of habit. The things that hurt us are often the things we lash out at, but as often as not, these are the same activities we do to those we love or interact with in social settings. For me, the miracle is that I was born with a deeply etched 8th House Astrological signature; the signature of 8th - sex, psychology, pathology, death and transformation. Deep digging into the kapu topics was bred into me. I write to bring light to dark subjects.

The transformative nature of writing leads me to muddle through the tight spaces of an all too confining space: beliefs, personal practices, communication styles. With the lessons that I learn from divorce, homelessness, and loss of health it is writing, the tools of the makua o'o and my practice of the 12 Steps of Al-Anon that feed me stories. By keeping time with Kaulana Mahina The Hawaiian Moon Calendar I tap into the ancient feminine wisdom and make room for elemental time, rather than the time on a clock. I learn to hear voices and language of birds, wind, trees, fire and the ancestors. They all have something wise to say. And, they all have a side of whimsy that tickles me when I have become too brittle with seriousness.

I weave the magic of myth to stay present with the power of water. Grasping at water? No holding power. Creating a sacred vessel for it? Ritual and magic is possible. That's why I write, and who I write for: I write for my mother and my father, my aunties, my mango trees. I write to make space for Grace. I write for the moon.