awareness is a responsibility
In my new home, my tiny monastic cell, I practice silence. But words join hands and dance the walls like cut-out paper-lady chains. Words cram the pages of books stacked two rows deep on the solitary bookcase left from the three I used to have--books crammed up against each other, words pressing outward.
I bounce on my rebounder, carefully positioned away from the ceiling light/fan which I could easily hit my head on, trying to shake loose all the lint litanies and junk judgments, and words move through the air, Brownian motion, visible crystals.
Used to be that a shaman was only responsible for/responsive to a few hundred souls at most. How do we manage now, when the urgent messages we receive turn out to refer to terrorism on the other side of the Atlantic?
plus ça change, plus c'est la même chose
^I think I've used that phrase as subtitle once before. Which makes it QED.
So much to write about! I promised monarda, so let's start there. Actually, monarda is a perfect place to start, for as Michael Cottingham put it so succinctly, "monarda is movement."
I'm moving. Again. And yet feeling some stickiness on certain levels too, and currently in the entropic state where objects waiting to be packed seem to multiply and magnify. Plus ça change, plus c'est la même chose.
milestones can only be arbitrary
The next herb I will write about here is Monarda-- Mexican oregano--movement embodied and personified in plant medicine. Monarda my sweet-hot, my ally in this time of change and mo(ve)ment I undergo in alongside spirit with many others. But that won't be today.
Today, I'm publishing this blog's ONE HUNDREDTH post! But why so long since post 99?
metaphoring on the cardamom
Cardamom, elettaria cardamomum, ginger family, we call it "hel" in Hebrew. "Hel" like "helwa"--sweet and beautiful and often cardamom flavored?
Carminative, aromatic, parochial and powerful, possessing an odor that, as a child, I was convinced came from heaven and thus defined heaven. I had an old one-ounce unguent jar among my toys, and it was a jar of cardamom smell. I don't know how it came to have and hold that smell, and I didn't have the name "cardamom" yet, only "hel," but I knew it was heaven.
The way to heaven is through the nose, the nostrils are needle's eyes, which is why camels are called stinky and camel milk is the next best thing for humans to mother's milk.
please beware of this
When I called my parents in tears when my scooter was stolen two days after my house was broken into, my dad warned me "these things come in threes." He was right.
"How could you have been so gullible/innocent/it's totally obvious that this was fraudulent," etc., etc., said anyone I told the story to after the fact. (Why didn't I discuss with anyone before the fact?) I don't know, guys. I guess I am highly gullible/trusting. But here's the story, and I hope it may stop someone else from falling prey to this.
seeing begets looking
As I've continued to process last week's thefts, the feeling of violation, I've been resisting the temptation to blame myself for manifesting the woes and at the same time attempting to ask, without self pity, what I can do/could have done differently. What is it that needs my attention and is not getting it?
Again with the questions. Perhaps there's a beautiful symmetry in the fact that I find questions so useful everywhere and always and in the fact that the one quality on which I pride myself and which I hope never to lose is that of listening/being a good listener. But am I listening enough right now? I feel, rather, that I'm grasping desperately...
although it seems like (write it!) like disaster
(with thanks, of course, to Elizabeth Bishop)
I've been going on and on about being the tail wagging the dog, the smile that starts firing happy chemistry. Then my house, and my neighbor on the other side of the duplex, got broken into on Wednesday, and irreplaceable family jewelry was stolen. Today, shopping on the way home from group where we'd been discussing how to wag that dog and create that smile, my scooter was stolen from right beside me as I browsed for a gift for my niece and perhaps a little token of safety.
Law of Attraction specialists, what am I doing that's making this happen?