The Year of the Snail

Heavy loaded snail by Bartosz Makara, on Flickr. Used Via Creative Commons.

As 2016 was drawing to a close, I was searching, as I do every year, for my One Little Word for 2017.  And I was not having very much success at finding it. 

The last 6 weeks of the year were some of the most difficult weeks I've endured. They were ruled by survival mode as I struggled through illnesses and injuries from 2 rounds of strep throat, a re-flaring up of my occular herpes, a cough that still hasn't entirely quit, to a fall that left me unable to walk for several days while all the tendons and muscles in my right foot recovered. They were further marred by grief, sleeplessness, fear, and anger. 

I was basically in survival mode, but I was railing against it.  I was making insurmountable to-do lists in my head for when I was better. I was beating myself up for the amount of television Orion was watching while I was laid up on the couch so often and so completely. I was berating myself for the take out, for the money I was costing. I was reading and watching far too much news and growing increasingly afraid and hopeless and angry as I went down the rabbit hole of "what ifs" and "what's the points" and "for fuck's sake, whys". 

And so, the initial, knee jerk reactionary word I chose for 2017 was "Survive". A harsh word that I knew folks would misunderstand, that I wasn't really 100% happy with myself. But, my body had knocked me cleanly on to my ass in a big way and was letting me know that I needed to pump the gods damned breaks. I wanted to wrap the word around the lessons and feelings that I knew I needed to embrace to get well. And I was in the midst of a gigantic, depressing, pity party.

But. It was too harsh. It was a snarky, sarcastic snapping back at the situation and current world. And I brainstormed with a beautiful friend of mine over the feelings and lessons that I wanted to wrap a word around, she giving me some softer synonyms and suggesting I pick 3 words (3 is the magic number, after all.) And I thought and thought and the word prevail stood out to me as a juicy, softer, synonym. And so, I tried it on for a few days.

It still didn't fit. There was still too much fight in it, and fighting is not what I need right now. I tried on "surrender", "prevailing surrender", "prevailing presence", and a whole slew of other words. But none. of. them. fit.

So frustrating.

Which was a lesson in and of itself. The acknowledging how crazy I make myself, how wrapped up I get in the doing, and how bad that constant frustration is for me. So, I opted to let go of the idea of One Little Word and wrote out a list of what I needed to call in to me this year. 

My body is telling me in no uncertain terms that I need to slow the hell down. To learn how to not be constantly doing, to embrace the pause. To be steadfast against my urge to be negative about how much I've accomplished or am currently doing. To hit the breaks on the constant expanding, healing, digging, growing, and searching I've been doing for the past 3 years and bring it back in for a bit. It's been a hard scrabble fight against PPD, Anxiety, to find my own authentic voice and methods in the noise of modern motherhood, to try to make art as a job work. But now, it's time to hit the huge red cosmic pause button that's flashing 3 inches from my face.

It's time to truly allow the old selves to die off and fall away. To call my tribe in closer and shelter closer to my proverbial home, bring it back to what I know. To unplug and be present in my own ordinary life and truly experience the magical every day. 

And once I stopped actively looking, Snail found me. My guiding totem and teacher for this year. Who embodies the brilliant cosmos in the spirals of her shell, who is of the humble holy bones of Earth. I need to surrender to the slow. To embrace presence. To invite in steadfast patience, to get close to the minutiae and therefore, truly inside of this imperfectly ordinary life. To pull myself in to my shell when needed, and pause. No shame, no guilt, no pressure. 

This Little Light of Mine

Despite the thick haze, I was able to see the moon last night. From my vantage point, she didn't look much larger than usual. But there was a definite hush outside; it was so incredibly quiet. Everything was completely still. It was just the moon and the wood smoke, and it made me whisper to the quiet two words: Phoenix Magic.

Waxing poetically in text about how I'm going to tear things down and start over, is the easy part. Even the realization that I need to tear down pedestals, let go, burn it down, and rise again wasn't too difficult.

The hard part is in the follow through. It's frightening. When I think too much about it, I feel as if I'm on a ship at sea and can't find my bearings. So I hold tight to something solid and reliable, even if that doesn't serve my best interests.

So, last night, under the super moon, I cleared off and cleaned up the altar for the first time in months, and began to rekindle my light. And I found something heavy that I can hold on to when I need to be grounded, something to help point me in the right direction: a compass.

Often I've felt that my husband knows my heart and can feel the way the winds are blowing me before I'm even aware that there's a breeze. He gifted me this beautiful brass compass, and a wee anchor, for our anniversary last month inside of a box he made and inscribed himself.

Last night wasn't all about me, though. This has been such a hard and heavy few weeks for so many people that I know and love, and a lot of us are having trouble remembering to shine right now. So I'm holding the light.

For myself, and for all of you, too.

Let it shine. Let it shine. Let it shine.

Wildfires

My backyard is hazy and smells like a long burning campfire, smoke from the fires blazing in the nearby mountains is shrouding the area and making it unwise to be outside. 2,200 acres are ablaze just about 45 miles north of me, and beyond that, there are even larger patches of land caught up in wildfire. And while it's terrifying, there is good that comes from the burning of the forest. New life that springs up from the ashes.

 And so it is, that on a day I've been preoccupied with the decimation and the cycles of destruction, death, and rebirth that I came full circle back to blogging. And, as old friends will no doubt notice, a revival of the old blog name.

It's hard to put in to words why I left it and why I came back to it, but I'll try. Because while it doesn't require explanation, it is important to me.

When I shed the old name, I was in a place of tremendous transition. Having just become a mother, battling the fucking demons that are post-partum depression and anxiety, trying to narrow down my creative endeavors in to a polished shiny business, and trying to reclaim some semblance of intimacy and privacy with my readers now that I have this little life to tend to.

There's a lot in a name, even a virtual one. And it seems to me that as I tried on and shed names, I was trying on and shedding labels for myself. I was lost for a bit, undeniably, and searching. And discovering. And what I learned is that shiny and polished isn't for me. I love what I love, and it's not easily marketable and to try to force it to be was stealing my joy in creating. Having a shiny polished name and streamlined creative focus spilled over in to my home life. I've been putting all sorts of things on to big ass pedestals and setting myself up for unhappiness and failure.

So today, on this super giant super moon day, I'm going to burn those towers that I built down. And start over, back at the beginning. I'm going to re-embrace the whimsy, the magic, and the simplicity of life, creativity, spirituality, and all the things.

And of course, because I've so missed writing, I'm going to start writing about any old damn thing again. In this new space that I haven't quite turned in to home yet, because I'm not much chuffed about the quantity of followers, so much as the quality.

I'm back, Witches. *cackle cackle* Make yourselves at home and I'll snazz the place up as life, and a 2 year old, allows. ;)



P.S. My old blog will remain up as an archive, and can be found here