A New Year’s Revolution

I count myself lucky that I can call 2015 a wonderful year.  There are years that we are happy to say goodbye to and years that just fade into the past. Mine was a melting away with kisses kind of a year.  I count my blessings for not all years are that way.  So, if for you, you’re in the throes of what once was and eager to welcome what can be, this tale is for you.

My nine year old asks, “What’s your New Year’s Revolution going to be?” Whatever your answer, he makes into a joke, saying it doesn’t matter what you choose because no one keeps their revolution anyway.  Well, we all know what he’s talking about and funny that at age 9, he’s figured out that culturally, resolutions don’t stick but also that he doesn’t know the word resolution.  Instead, it’s a revolution; think about what’s YOUR New Year’s Revolution.

I’ll tell you about my Revolution- the one that’s still going.  It started within that heavy time when words like separation and divorce are the themes in your life.  And when an ex-husband is threatening the core of your love by suggesting he has the power to take full custody of your children.  Cruel, cruel words.  I was so beat up, financially abused and at square one.  Circumstances came about so that a friend simply put it, “I think this is a wake up call.”  So I thought, if that’s what this is, you better believe I’m going to be awake.  It seemed sort of all of the sudden, but the part of me that had been getting crushed so hard through the grief emerged and she pushed herself all the way upright.  I became determined to be the mother I knew myself to be, not the one in defense and reaction to cruel words, insecurity, and ridicule.  That was a day of looking at the compass, of seeing True North and knowing my direction.  From every cell in my body, to my core, my heart and mind aligned, I would go forward and I would claim my place.  It was a revolution.  I was standing up to the power I had once loved.  I was standing up to betrayal.  I was standing up to a bullshit front that has only proven itself less than I had ever dreamed.

To this day, I am still revolting.  My revolution is LOVE.  I keep loving and believing in my dreams.  I keep looking at shadows, acknowledging those dark areas, the places of cobwebs, the closet with the skeletons, honoring the unseen and the mysteries and then lifting myself up toward the light, with a smile, with a song, with a hug, an offering, a gift.   I keep gathering seeds and saving them, sharing them, planting them.  I keep transplanting possibilities, listening to heart songs, gathering in the comfort of children, settling into meditations of breath and a quiet inner landscape.   I keep lighting candles, extending a hand and sipping from the well.

Sometimes my daughter of thirteen thinks me naive and sometimes I remind her I am not.  Other times, I let her think what she will while I ponder and appreciate the innocence of things.  For a revolution to work, not only does something die, go away or be made into the past, but also something new emerges and is birthed when ripe- to divine perfection, just like newborn life.

In the story where I live my revolution, I live in a culture where there is community and within this community I am not alone.  I am not another single mama trying to resurrect.  I AM resurrected.  AND, I have my co-madres to thank.  In my revolution, there is no point of being a parent alone in the world when there is a village where the children can play, where the innocence of youth truly needs a place and where Mama’s, like me, can be, without a doubt, steadfastly there because of passion and will to go a little farther, do a little more, even at the drop of a hat.

Our babies always have care.  Our dishes are done faster than expected (or left aside as needed). Dinner was easier than imagined, always enough. The campfire is beautiful.  The sand is a wonderful mess.  You have a mustache or several pink ‘staches all the children take.  The ride actually happens!   Big laughs wash the air with good ‘ol Mama love!

I count my blessings.  I’m thankful for all things, even those that I do not understand.  I try to say thank you all day long, like one big om from morning to night.  And there in the witching hour when the clock strikes midnight, are the kisses of one whose hand I’m holding.  He supports my revolution and he’s making his own storm of goodness, cooking up dish after dish for the people.

Sometimes it’s hard to align our will forces within the physical constructs of the world.  Sometimes we lack clarity or we unconsciously drain ourselves and lose focus. Sometimes we just need time to help us heal the wounds of post-traumatic stress or loss and grief.  Whatever it is that has taken your energy and held you down, bow to it in thanks.  And know that you can choose what you will stand for.  If you are to stand for something, know it, name it, and without waving your flag for anyone to see, just start being it today.

Make your choice personal, private, and powerful.  When we be the change we wish to see in the world, you will know, the Revolution is on!

Realizing a Revolution is hard work!  Needing clarity? Come join me for a peaceful Meditation through Movement. YogaSomaChi: 4:30 Mondays @ The Sebastopol Center for the Arts

Bullshit Savings Time

I apologize for sounding vulgar in the title of my post but if I don’t rant at least a little bit about the time change, then, well, I’ll be mostly the only one hearing my annoyances.  No matter what, this change of the clocks is rediculous. I hear many people say how much they like it and if you’re at work indoors all day, I can sympathize with that need and desire for sunshine and light.

But let’s look at the time change from an earthly, connected perspective.  This is how I feel what happens:  in the fall, Equinox comes and day and night are equal.  Abundance abounds in California as tomatoes and peppers ripen red on the vine.  We harvest, we eat our apples fresh from the trees and at every potluck or dinner party, there is dish after dish made with zucchini.  October rolls around and the sun becomes noticably lower in the sky.  The golden fields glow as evening light settles over land.  Orange pumpkins capture our attention as if pumpkin carving was a long held tradition of Autumn and finally, after costumes and fretting over candy and offerings to the Rubbish fairies, alas, we “fall back” (seemingly regaining the hour that was stolen from us last week; but I don’t think regaining this hour makes up for every hour I’ll lose between now and next fall).

After the clocks are turned back that week following Halloween, then what?  For one, it’s easier to put the children to bed.  Ever notice it’s easier to put yourself to bed too?  The first frost beckons you turn on the oven, bake them potatoes or Butternut Squash, plan for pies and who’s cooking what for the coming holiday.  For the busy American, the full time job and commute becomes more intense- there’s shopping to do and holiday planning and if we don’t have a loved one who is sick, we may be recalling a time when a relative passed away.  Grief and pneumonia visit many in this dark time of year.  Some people get flu shots, others make hot chocolate and still others make tea and soups.  We all have different Autumn traditions and habits.  But generally, we have to fight colds and keep warm.  Some of us go personally inward, become depressed or dive deep into creative projects.

Think about it, the darkest of days come on the first day of winter so that means November through February the nights are the longest and if we’re going to get good rest, this is the time to do it.  If the holidays included rich meals, extra baked goods or sharing bottles of wine, the New Year starts with efforts toward the best intentions, a desire to make improvements and somehow, since the days are shorter, maybe you’re like me and you like going to bed earlier and earlier.  I love sleep more and more as January turns to February.  I embrace my dreamtime, knowing I can store up energy for summer, knowing that in my dreamtime and meditations, I will find inspiration.

Yellow begins bursting from the fields here in California.  Mustard flowers glow from near and far.  The roadsides light up when the clouds break and even on foggy days, the earth glows yellow and gold.  This is the time when I KNOW, Spring is Coming and I love it and I can feel it with every cell of my body.  As the earth awakens, I awaken and I feel as though I am being beckoned from my slumber.  From the pleasures of my layered blankets and the coziness of my shelter, I enter the day, excited, as the sunrise inspires me morning after morning.  I rise early, easily and well rested and I look outside in shock and awe- it’s so pretty!  Light and morning fog, each day, new and different from the last.  I can’t wait to start the day.  I feel like an Earth Baby whose been resting for months, like a little one rubbing my eyes in amazement as Mother Earth says, “Here child, take this color, put on these colors and go be lovely with the rest of the world- life is awakening again- this is the promise of Spring that I told you about when we planted the Tulips.”

Yes, this is how it is for me- an earth baby awakening as if with new eyes, all is new again.  Life is green with miner’s lettuce and chickweed and I want to go out and be in this world- inspired and happy to rise, rise, rise!

Then… I won’t say it.  The title of my post already said it.  Instead I’ll dream, I’ll dream of a day when the world says, “No- let’s not make that agreement.  Let’s not pretend day is longer.  Let’s not assign an alternate hour to the light that we do have.  Let’s just keep in sync with one time and see what happens.  Maybe we’ll like it even better.”