Crows give notice, caw the first call. Then, smaller birds begin to tweet. It’s a new day, a new moment, and I’m with the words of William Blake.
“The tree which moves some to tears of joy is in the eyes of others only a green thing which stands in the way… As a man is, so he sees.”
Notice how you’re seeing today. Hone perception and Be!
Feng Shui translates to “wind-water” in English and is about energy circulation and flow. We harmonize with our environment, feel where energy is stuck. Last night I couldn’t sleep so rose and meditated in a newly cleansed room. I could feel the energetic shift in the room, the opening, welcoming shift in me.
I’ve removed two standing bookcases as well as two shelves that were attached to the wall. Artwork is down and only a few items returned, so the room echoes, and in that echoing, I wonder what comes to me now.
The full moon may also have affected my ability to sleep. I sat in the dark, meditated, and sensed. Then the rain came. I felt a need to be awake to witness the weather, earth, and moon in their shifts, echoed in me.
I thought it was the Hunter’s full moon so meditated on predator and prey and Thich Nhat Hanh’s wonderful poem, “Please Call Me by My True Names”, where he explores and explains how we are everyone and everything, both predator and prey.
This morning I learn the January full moon is Wolf moon. The wolves may have been howling, but I didn’t hear them last night. Though I couldn’t see the moon I felt it’s light.
Our cat Tiger loves to sit and look at the moon. Last night he was watching the sun set behind the ridge. I called him in off the deck so I could close the door as it was cold but he looked at me with his big eyes, and said, “Look at what is happening”, so I, too, went outside and watched light come to dark. Then, together, refreshed, we came inside.
This morning I lay in bed waiting for the moment that invites me to rise.
I felt my heart like a diamond cut into facets to invite even more shine, or so I thought, but then I began to wonder about facets and if my imagery was quite right. From the Cape Town Diamond Museum I learned that though it might be considered desirable to have more facets, “in most cases, it depends on the perfect proportion and symmetry of the facets rather than the amount of facets”.
So, now I’m back to balance, balancing the proportion and symmetry of the facets in my heart.
I’m still cleaning out my house. The carpet cleaner comes today, and so again making way, it’s a wonderful opportunity to see that I have more facets than I need. Working with proportion and symmetry, I slice carefully into what is here to further increase sparkle, clarity, depth, and shine.
We’ve occupied this abode for over 42 years. Going through what’s here is like going through an archaeological dig. How do I meet what I’ve gathered over the years with full perception and new and grateful heart?
I come to what I consider my most private room. The white Bible with my maiden name engraved in gold is here. It’s a gift from one grandmother. The Christian Science books from my other grandmother nestle close. Both women were amazing and I bow to the wisdom and grace in my ancestry.
In this room, I have an array of baskets that cluster a variety of things and today I delve into one to find a miniature herb garden kit my mother gave me right before she died. I find a tiny spade, and four tiny two-inch pots with metal labels for Basil, Coriander, Parsley and Thyme. There’s a little book on herb gardening. In addition, there’s a set of cards, Creating Sacred Gardens Knowledge cards by Elizabeth Murray. I pull out a card. It’s the Arch.
“The arch, one of the most sacred symbols of the ancient world, signifies openings and exits and the cycles of life-death-life and creation – destruction – re-creation. It is also the symbol of the Earth Mother. Arches are prevalent in Druidic, Hindu, Arabic, and Greek temples, as well as in Christian churches.”
“Positioned over garden entrances, arches welcome us and offer a sense of grace and fluidity. They suggest a rainbow reaching from earth to heaven, bringing good luck and blessings. Arches also make a particularly appropriate setting for marking rites of passage.”
The arch represents the soul’s longing for grounded and spiritual connection. I sit with that now. Yes, that is my desire – grounded and spiritual connection, and so I envision an arch over my head, a rainbow dropping light like dew, transcendent awareness of gifts gathered here and everywhere.
Peace!
I love the flickering of candlelight this time of year. Winter in the Northern hemisphere offers reflective space.
John O’Donohue wrote: Candlelight perception is the most respectful and appropriate form of light with which to approach the inner world. It does not force our tormented transparency upon the mystery.
I’m still in clean-out mode. The Mill Valley library is thrilled with the condition and range of the books I’ve donated, and there’s more to go, though it’s not easy. I love books and want them to have good homes, so I scatter pieces of myself out in the world, my choices, shared.
This poem by Marci Calabretta Dancio-Bello speaks to me as I read of animals fleeing from fire in Australia. How do we stroke the bones of fear and open out and share the spinal hum?
Someone discovered
the giraffe hums
at a harmonic rate
of 92 Hertz,
voice thrumming
the tower of spine
and trachea once
thought to be silent,
and her humming is
like monks chanting
holy and ascetic,
the vibrations rolling
up the vertebrae
gentle and slow,
a long-lashed
face lifting
from water to sky,
taut dark sides
veined with light
ready to crack
open the body.
As a long-time student of Sensory Awareness, and practitioner of Somatic work, I’m aware of weight and working with, playing with, gravity, but in this plunge to purge, I’m even more aware of the weight of things, of the energy objects hold. In the case of books, wisdom is stored, wisdom into which I can sink when I’m ready, but what I’m seeing in poring through shelves, and then, piles of books is this is a trip down memory lane. I see what I’ve learned.
When I came to somatic work in 1993, I opened into a whole new world. Intrigued, motivated, and curious, I delved into classes and books, my way to anchor what I was learning. I couldn’t know enough, but now, as I go through this accumulation of stuff, I know I know enough. It doesn’t mean there isn’t more to learn, but there’s an embodiment and acknowledgment I feel and sense.
The books can go onto others in search.
What’s puzzling though is the weight and work of moving this stuff along. It’s physical, unlike the luxurious sitting in a chair with a new book, a new opening of space in the body/mind.
Right now, I sit here surrounded by books in boxes, and books on the floor, and shelves asking what now, for perhaps even a shelf has some affinity with weight and substance, and wonders what meaning opens for it now.
I balance in the honoring of Feng Shui, the movement and shifting of energy and weight. I feel the change, even in the mess.
I think of a tree, water and nutrients flowing up and down, communication with other trees, and then, the tree is cut down, and sliced into planks.
Now I’m reminded of the story The Fir Tree by Hans Christian Anderson which has a sad ending rather than a celebration of transformation and change as we move, explore, weigh down, and release both time and space again and again.
I revel in this pause that allows my back to realign and then I return to the task of bending, shifting, and lifting to give books and shelves new places and ways to be, and me too.
What comes now? The invitation is sent.
Books are heavy, not necessarily one at a time, but when there are many, yes they are, and so this morning my sacrum area is asking for a little more ease in the movement and sorting of thousands of books. One wall of our living room hosts floor to ceiling books. I’m trying to clear that out so that I can move books that cover two walls in each of the other bedrooms onto the living room shelves.
I’m making progress but I see there will still be books in the back of the house and that is okay since books make a house a home but there will be a little more space, and each book will feel comfy with its neighbors on the shelf.
John Keats wrote that “My imagination is a monastery and I am its monk.”
Perhaps that’s what these books mean to me. I am their keeper, and I love what they bring to and inspire in me. I look around and feel the leaves of their pages feed and nourish me.
It’s the fifth of January, a glorious day here, and I’m happy to fill the monastery of my imagination as I honor the priestess I am.
