House of Flowers
  • about
    • about
    • sophia rose
    • FAQ
    • press
  • shop
    • apothecary
    • flower essences
    • publications
    • stockists >
      • wholesale application
      • wholesale ordering
  • learn
  • connect

How To Make Wise Choices

7/23/2017

Comments

 
Picture

​It is so easy to feel stuck; to feel like you are fated to remain where you are, how you are  -- forever.  But it's just not true.  And the reality is, that change begins in the smallest of moments.  

Change begins with realizing that your life is directed
by the choices you make, large and small.  
​
For a long time, I felt like my life was guided by a force much greater than myself, and I trusted it wholeheartedly.  I'd simply listen to the instructions I received from Creator and walk the path with as much courage as I could muster as it unfolded before me.  And then something happened -- it just kind of stopped.  It really began for me last Summer while I was living out my life-long dream of traveling cross-country, teaching and wildcrafting and visiting friends and lovers along the way.  I had wanted this for so long that I hadn't bothered to imagine anything else that came after.  And so, paradoxically, I became quite depressed. Because what are you supposed to do once you've lived your dreams?  The answer was not clear to me.  While the linear and obvious choice might be to simply dream a new dream, such visions are not easy to come by, but must instead be nurtured into being from a world beyond this one.  So I felt empty after my trip ended, not elated as I'd hoped. I was totally uncertain of what might come next.

I have tattoos on my fingers, and only my fingers.  Each symbol was etched in my skin by hand beneath a Full Moon.  The tattoos were part of an ongoing ritual meant to sow the seeds of my life's vision in the fertile fields of my flesh, where they could take root and grow on their own -- bearing flowers, then fruit as I lived their lessons daily.  All Summer while I traversed the West Coast, the vision of a new tattoo emerged on my skin, clear as day though yet visible by sight.  It was a lightning bolt on my right ring finger.  Lightning.  Petrichor.  Rain across the Mesa. The lightning bolt, to me, symbolizes a direct and masculine force; definitive choice and decisive action.

Up to this point in my life, I have relied primarily on feminine modes of being in the world. I've remained largely receptive and reflective, trusting the wisdom of my body and the messages of the Earth.  And while this life-way is precious to me, and needed in this world, indeed -- it no longer seems a complete or balanced way to approach my life.  I am twenty seven and nearing my Saturn Return.  Saturn rules structure, discipline, and boundaries.  Saturn wants us to understand that the container is just as sacred as the waters which fill it.  Saturn wants us to respect and acknowledge our limitations and clarify our intentions.  ​

+   +   +

Saturn makes sure that we know that when we
don't make a choice, the choice is made for us.


​+   +   +


Recently I had the privilege of spending time with my dear friend Roxie and her newborn babe, Angus.  Resting seaside on Vashon Island, we slept late into the day beside the Ocean and took long walks along the shoreline; gathered wild mussels on the rocks and spoke of all things, large and small. Roxie is someone I admire greatly.  I treasure our friendship as well as the wisdom and beauty she shares so generously.  As a mother of three and a woman who walks gracefully in many worlds, Roxie's perspective has been shaped by forces beyond my own experience.  And for that, I am so grateful.  During our time together, I was struggling with the consequences of some poor choices I had made and talking with her about the challenges I faced when it came to the indecisiveness that seemed to cloud my judgement daily.   Roxie is also an excellent writer and someone whose words I savor whenever I have the chance.   She pointed me toward a piece she'd written about coming to recognize and acknowledge the power of choice shortly after she gave birth to her first child.  Reading it sparked something powerful within me.  Which led me to brush my teeth even though I was tired  -- a small choice. And to bigger choices as well -- such as the launch of an exciting new project, which I won't say much about now, but can't wait to share with you.

The point is -- we have choices.  And it is up to us to recognize that we have choices.  Maybe they are small, maybe they are large.  But they are all important.  And making these choices is actually what allows the guidance of Spirit to come through.  Just as breathe and wind require the solid form of a flute to make sacred sounds, our choices provide a structure for Spirit to work within in order to consciously direct our lives.

So, I've written a guide that I hope that you will revisit on the regular.  May it serve as a roadmap and a kind reminder of how to make choices that are good for you, not only in the moment, but within the wider context of the life you are being asked to live . . .
​
Picture


H O W    T O    M A K E    W I S E   C H O I C E S

.  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .
​a tender guide for moments of indecision
.  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .



C L A R I F Y    Y O U R    P R I O R I T I E S

When we are clear about our priorities and grounded in our own ideas and experiences, wise choices flow naturally from this place.  Knowing these things about ourselves is not always easy, but when we have a sense of what we are working toward and what our lives are in service to, we can guide every choice we make by this inner North Star which shines even in the darkest of moments. Each choice presented to us becomes simplified when we can discern whether or not it will support or detract from that which we've devoted ourselves to.
​
​
L I S T E N    T O    Y O U R   B O D Y

​Our hearts and our nervous systems know.  They just do.  The mind can come up with endless reasons about why something is a good idea, or a bad idea, but beneath all of this lies the wisdom of the body.  You know that feeling you get - that urgency that drives you toward something, not necessarily because you want it, but because you're afraid that if you don't act now, the opportunity will vanish?  That feeling is your body telling you to stop.  To pause completely and not make a single move.  That feeling is an indication to simply sit with the situation and allow it to continue reveal itself.

How often in your life have you thought that if you didn't jump on an opportunity that it would vanish?  Ok . . .  How often did that work out well?  Sometimes it is true, that we must leap and allow the net to appear before us.  And sometimes we just fall flat on our faces, realizing only after the fact, that we knew all along that thing // person // place // possibility was not really right.  If you feel frantic in your body, urgent and over-eager, remind yourself that anything real and lasting, anything truly meant to be yours, will still be there whether or not you jump on it. Even time-sensitive decisions that are truly good for you, will not inspire this sense of desperation, but will guide you steadily toward action in a way that feels grounded and good to all parts of you.

To begin making decisions from this place of bodily awareness, notice what it feels like to really sense a yes, in a way that is simple and clear.  What does that feel like? Remember this sensation and look for it when you are uncertain of how to proceed.  If it's not there, don't force it.  Only by saying no to those things that don't ultimately feel right, can we make space for those things truly meant for us.


J U S T    L E T    G O

Sometimes, when we've put so much into a relationship, a project, or even an idea, it can feel impossible to let go and move on.  But having invested significantly in something is no reason to hold onto it, if it's just not working.  Give yourself full permission to walk away.  You do not owe anyone an apology.  Your life will be transformed when you learn to recognize and honor these moments of letting go. Our Wildcrafted Datura Flower Essence is an excellent ally for cultivating this ability and helping you to remember that it is this endless cycle of releasing and calling in that makes life the dynamic and prismatic experience it was meant to be.


And if you really can't decide, just remember --

​if it's not a   Y E S !   it's probably a no . . .

​
Picture

C H O I C E S    Y O U   M A Y   E N C O U N T E R

​a n d    h o w     t o    n a v i g a t e    t h e m
​w i t h     g r a c e    a n d    a w a r e n e s s

​
I n    R e l a t i o n s h i p

You have a choice about how you respond in relationships, whether those relationships are personal, professional, familial, or romantic.  In ever interaction the one variable you have control over is your reaction.  When something comes up that challenges you, take a moment to pause before responding.  Take a breath and make a choice about what you want to do or say.  Ask yourself - how can I choose vulnerability and honesty in this moment?  How can I create connection through my words instead of separation?  Is my response inviting this person toward me, or am I reacting from a place of defensiveness and pushing them away? Choose words that bring you closer to, not farther from, the people you care about.


W h e n    N a v i g a t i n g    C o n s u m e r i s m

Ask yourself - Do I need this?  What did it take to create this?  Whose time and energy did it take bring this thing into being and at what cost to them?  What resources were extracted from the Earth to fabricate it?  Is it something I can do without?  If not, is it something I can borrow or buy used?  Sometimes we do genuinely need to purchase new things, and it is okay to purchase something simply because it will bring you joy or be useful to you.  Simply bringing awareness to the process is the most important practice.  Because buying organic sheets is absolutely not going to save the world, especially if you have a linen closet full of perfectly good sheets at home already.  Do what you can not to fall into the trap of consumerism thinly veiled as activism.  Buy less, buy used, borrow when you can.  And make time to go to garage sales -- cause that's where the real magic happens.


A t    W o r k

Ask yourself - Why do I do this job?  Do I like my job?  Does my work inspire me to grow and satisfy my desire to be of service in this world?  If not, is there a way I could make small changes so that it does?  Do I feel good about the way I treat the people I work with?  Do I feel respected in my work environment?  Am I dedicating enough time and attention to my work. Too much time and attention?  What does a healthy work/life balance look like to me right now?  How can I stay grounded in the reality that what I do to make money is not necessarily my work in life?  What ways do I value my contributions beyond my job?


O n    S o c i a l    M e d i a

Before mindlessly opening Facebook/Instagram/Snapchat, etc. - pause, notice where you are. Ask yourself what you're feeling; what you need in that moment.  Do you have a specific reason for checking your email for the 26th time today?  Could it wait until later, when you are sitting down, focused, and able to really give your full presence to whatever is being communicated. How do you feel after spending your time engaged with these technologies? What do you get out of engaging with them? Is it what you want to get? Our phones and computers are magical and powerful tools. And like all tools, they must be wielded wisely and with an understanding of the power that they hold - to create and to destroy.  Time is our most precious resource in this life and one of the only things that is truly non-renewable.  Spending an hour a day on social media may not seem like a big deal in the short-term, but in the long-term, consider if this is something you consider a necessary part of a life well lived.


W h e n    Y o u    E a t

Are you hungry when you eat?  How do you know when you've had enough food?  What foods make you feel vital and healthy after you eat them?  Which foods make you feel sluggish, heavy, or even ill?  Are there any foods you know you are sensitive to but choose to eat anyway?  What would it feel like to make a different choice?  Where do you like to sit when you eat?  Where does your food come from?  Are you making the most ethical choices within reach, considering your budget, location, etc?  What are ways you could support more local food producers and folks raising animals in ways that nourish rather than deplete the Earth?  If these resources are out of reach, financially, are there ways you could trade with folks?  Raise chickens in your backyard?  Grow lettuce in a window box or raised bed?  Join a community garden?  When we grow or harvest any portion of our food from cultivated or wild sources, it feeds us twice: once in the connection we have with the Earth in cultivating or foraging these foods and again when we take their nourishment into our bodies.
​

I n    Y o u r    I n n e r    W o r l d 

This is probably the most important as well as the most challenging area of life to recognize that we have choices.  We are so identified with our thoughts and with the storylines constantly playing in our own heads that we often forget that they may not be helpful, kind, or even true. Listen to the voices in your head.  Think critically about whether they are helping or hurting you. If what they're saying isn't based in reality, don't believe them.  Talk back.  Ask them who they are, where they came from.  Notice and question your inner critic.  We have the potential to be our own greatest allies as well as our worst enemies.  Practice offering yourself kindness and encouragement regularly, until it becomes woven into your inner dialogue.  Because when it comes down to it, the landscape of our inner world is the richest space we will ever inhabit. But like a garden, it requires careful tending in order to bloom. When we wisely choose who and what to invite close in, all of life becomes a Garden Party.

.   .   .   .   .   .   .   .   .   .   .   .   .   .   .   .   .   .   .   .   .   .   .   .   .   .   .   .   .   .

a n d     b e c a u s e   i t     b e a r s     r e p e a t i n g 

.   .   .   .   .   .   .   .   .   .   .   .   .   .   .   .   .   .   .   .   .   .   .   .   .   .   .   .   .   .


If you really can't decide, just remember --

​if it's not a   Y E S !   it's probably a no . . .

​.   .   .   .   .   .   .   .   .   .   .   .   .   .   .   .   .   .   .   .   .   .   .   .   .   .   .   .   .   .



Comments

Do Less

6/13/2017

Comments

 
Picture


​​D   O        L   E   S   S  .

Rejecting the Cult of Productivity and
Re-defining Success in Late Capitalism

( N B D )



.
.
.    .    .    .    .
.
.



​
B E G I N     A G A I N


​In life, we always have the opportunity to begin again. To do it sweeter, softer, and with a greater quality of presence than ever before. I’ve heard it said, there are places grace will take you, that hustling never will.  I wish someone would have told me that at twenty two, but I doubt I could have heard them then, and anyway — better to learn late than never. 

Twenty two is the age at which I began my journey with La Abeja Herbs.  And since that time, nearly every moment of my life has been devoted to nurturing it into what it has become — a company whose success and reach have eclipsed any vision I ever held for it at the outset.  But because of this, something in me had felt lost for a long time — or at least obscured — by the seemingly unending list of tasks necessary for maintaining a steady sense of productivity on the rise. (read :: capitalism) But no amount of productivity is worth compromising the aspects of one’s life which matter most or aspects of self which are most precious.  I felt like there was a growing wall between me and the world; like my body had to move two to three steps ahead of my heart just to keep up with the daily tasks of running the business.  And all of this left little time, and even less emotional space, for the real work —  the sacred work — of simply being with myself and with the plants; sitting in stillness and courting the Muse with such tender care, as was once my singular devotion. The magic in my life felt as though it was waning, and I knew something had to give. 
​
​
Picture

L I F E ' S    A    T R I P

In late April, I returned home from, almost precisely, one month of travel.  It seems that I am always leaving, always coming home.  For most of my adult life, I have been mostly nomadic, and mostly happy about it.  I have woken at sunrise beside the crashing waves of the Pacific Ocean and folded my laundry causally aboard a ferry making my way from island to island amidst the Salish Sea.  I’ve slept upon the Earth for weeks at a stretch with friends and strangers by my side.  I’ve grown sunburnt for lack of shade and shelter, and made love beneath the waning Moon in the wild waters of warm mountain springs.  And now, for the first time in over a decade — I have what could be called a Home.

For years I longed for the distinctive feeling of freedom that came only from driving away from somewhere.  To be fair, I was often traveling toward something as well, but more than that, it was the feeling of leaving that fed me, the feeling of being free from what was.  But now, I don’t want to leave.  I want to be here — in my house, in my garden, walking through the alleys of my neighborhood at sunset and learning the precise location where each feral cat spends its late afternoon hours.  I want to watch the way the sun moves across my porch over the course of the day and note the subtle changing light of Summer into Fall.  I want to linger over long breakfasts cooked slow in my kitchen for the friends I love, and don't get to see nearly often enough.  I want to have something that resembles a routine for once in my life.


Picture

​As my Saturn Return approaches, (oh hayyyy!) the urge and the instinct to settle and to create structure is undeniable.  Nearing the end of my most recent month-long stint of travel, the sounds and sights of Home were what my Soul was aching for.  I wandered through the high desert of California, drunk on the electric buzz of new love and the intoxicating sights and smells of the perfectly-timed super-bloom which coincided with my short visit. And yet, despite this heady, nectar-rich landscape, I felt like there was a palm pressed firmly to my forehead, obscuring my vision in this world and the other. I was unable to see or think clearly, knowing only that I needed rest and solitude in order to remember who I was or what I wanted. My magic was fading, and my sense of self wearing thin.  I could not hear the voices of the cacti clearly and the flowers were shy and suspicious of me.  I was not myself.  Home now, in the cool expanse of my quiet kitchen, I wake to the familiar sound of doves outside my window, the breath of breeze in Oak trees.  The world here welcomes me, and speaks to me clearly once more — but only on the condition that I agree to stay still for more than a few weeks at a stretch.
​
Picture

​On the final day of my trip, I departed from Marfa, TX after offering my fourth year of Spring workshops in partnership with El Cosmico.  As I began the day-long journey toward home, I felt a great weight descend upon me, originating from I knew not where.  I felt vaguely disoriented after my month of movement; heavy and slow, even as I drove ninety miles an hour down the sunny West Texas highway, lined to the horizon with technicolor primroses and pollen-heavy Acacias.  I saw an unfamiliar tree, laden with yellow blossoms, and then another, and another.  Exhausted, and eager to make it home before dark, my instinct was to suppress my curiosity, ignore the beckoning blooms, and press on toward home. As I neared the highway intersection, however, I saw a final stand of these unknown trees, which refused to be ignored. I pulled over to the side of the road and realized suddenly that I was parched and starving, having ignored not only my curiosity and thirst for beauty but for more tangible sustenance as well.  I gulped what little water remained in my bottle and tore into the leftovers stashed in my cooler before gathering my wits about me and slowing down to approach the tree with a proper sense of reverence.  I admired her branches, heavy with otherworldly blooms, and watched in silence as more species of pollinators than I could count, alighted upon the profusion of her flowers to drink deep their fertility.  I lingered there, inviting the warm desert air to penetrate and soften the rigidity that had found its way into my body.  I sensed the sun overhead and the distant hum of cars on the interstate.  I arrived where I was, and I felt calm and present at last -- in the stillness and in solitude, I needed for so long.

Picture

​
I drove on through nodding fields of wild oat and thorny mesquite in bloom.  Nearing an empty tank, in more ways than one, I was grateful to see an exit on the long stretch of desolate highway that indicated some sign of civilization.  I stopped for gas at the station and I realized I had there many times over the years on my countless cross-country treks. The bathroom sink glistened with shimmering fake marble and the wood paneling, left untouched since the fifties, told of a kind of easy familiarity and comfort.  The whole place was suffused with the kind of silence one rarely finds on purpose. I walked outside the station to admire the profusion of prickly pear blossoms, the velvety blood red roses covering the peeling paint of the walls.  The fifteen or so feral cats who greeted me had morphed from grey to tabby in the generations since my last visit.  They languished on the warm sidewalk and eyed me curiously for signs of food.  Stepping onto a small patch of lawn, an instant I was surrounded by hundreds of tiny purple butterflies.  They alighted on the moist earth to drink,  opening and closing their wings slowly as they did.  It was a vision so unexpectedly beautiful, I felt moved nearly to tears.  And yet, again I saw the instinct in me arise, to press onward -- to drink in only so much of this perfection.  But instead I chose to stay, to take as long as I wanted; as long as it took.  I wandered to the edge of the dirt parking lot where a large Agave rose up, majestic and on the precipice of its long awaited flowering. I stood perfectly still and silent as I walked another congregation of butterflies dancing around the wine cups and sage below.  I wandered on, taking in the entirety of this highway side paradise and allowing myself to be filled with the cool breath of meadow and milkweed; the deep refuge offered by the thick mulberry shade.  I was just with myself, in the place where I was; watching, listening, breathing and asking myself  -- 


If I cannot allow myself to experience pleasure fully
in this moment -- then when will I finally allow it?
​
Picture

H O N O R I N G    T H E    S A C R E D
​

Reflecting on this experience as I continued on the long drive toward home, I realized just how a dangerous a thing it is to ignore beauty in the name of efficiency; to prioritize productivity and perfection over pleasure and play.  My heart ached for the countless times I had denied myself what I wanted and needed most - whether it was nourishment, rest, connection, or exploration. I implore you to remain vigilant for this tendency in your own life, for it is this insidious thing which gives rise to a world where fascism is possible and those things which are sacred become commodities rather than forces with which we are in relationship.  How we do one thing, is often how we do everything.

Within each of us exist the same forces which make up the world beyond our own skin and psyche —  as within, so without.  When we see violence, racism, misogyny, destruction of the natural world — we must ask ourselves, how is this war also being waged within my own body, my own heart, my own mind?  What shadowy aspects of myself have I unable or unwilling to bear witness to?  In what ways have I been violent toward myself; toward the people I love? What inner resources am I exploiting?  Because there is no them, there is only us.  The subtle ways in which we treat ourselves and relate to the world around us -- these things matter deeply.  Each act in the this world is coupled with an equally potent ripple in the Otherworld.  By choosing kindness, beauty, pleasure, presence -- we are choosing to orchestrate powerful magic -- not only in our own lives but for the world beyond as well.

I know that I am not alone in recognizing these things and that the recent weeks and months have revealed not only to me but to many, the ways in which we have been acting as our own taskmasters, rather than allowing life to be lived through us with grace. And through this realization, we are offered an invitation to loosen or even remove the shackles that we alone have keep ourselves bound by.


​
Picture

M A K I N G    N E W    C H O I C E S
​

​Upon returning home, at last, I was already beginning the necessary steps for planning my next trip to teach at the Spiritweavers Gathering — a favorite moment in the wheel of the year when I get to come together with many of the people I love most.  The Gathering this year would be held in Cave Junction, Oregon -- all the way across the country.  My nervous system recoiled and I wept with anxiety at the thought of leaving my home again so soon.  My body was exhausted, spent.  If I moved forward with the trip as planned, I would bid a reluctant farewell to the new home I'd hardly had time to settle into, get on a plane to fly to the Pacific Northwest, and teach for twenty four hours over the course of two weeks.  I would also, of course, be surrounded by many of my closest friends as well as by twelve hundred other truly amazing women -- but to the body, positive stress is still stress.  And much as “I” wanted to go, something much deeper in me simply would not allow it. 
​
I had been praying for guidance, as my delicate system struggled mightily to sense what was best.  My word is sacred and to not follow through on a commitment I had made to my community felt unthinkable.  Not to mention, how I longed to laugh late into the night and wade in the cool wild waters alongside many of the friends I had been looking forward to seeing since we had parted the previous Summer.  But my answer came quickly as I sat in my favorite medicine-filled field, held in the embrace of a towering Texas Pecan.  The tree was like a wise old woman, clothed elaborately in vines which wove, lattice-like, about her ancient trunk. I arranged myself in a sad heap upon the Earth, beneath her shade, feeling far from everything that I loved.  I felt alone; hollow.  And as I sat there, in moderate distress — my phone rang.  Having sensed the urgency of my current state, a generous and wise friend called me and listened patiently as I told her how depleted I felt — how scared I was about my health, my home, my heart.  When she responded at last to my long-winded monologue of overwhelm, her tone alone was all the permission I needed to listen to what I’d known in my bones all along.  Her care as well as her concern were evident — and they made me realize what it was I really needed. That night, I made the final decision to stay.  To give myself to myself.  To create the space I needed in order to first empty and then re-fill the depleted well of my being.

​
Picture

​When your cup is full, you cannot receive.
When your cup is empty, you have nothing to give.



Though I had so badly wished to have the energy to attend the Gathering, I knew that the experience of cross country travel and long hours of teaching would leave me feeling, ultimately depleted, and with little to give to myself or community in the longterm.  To offer teachings on Herbs For The Feminine Heart, while so blatantly disregarding the wisdom and communication from my own sacred center would be a betrayal. To guide the Moon Maidens in an exploration of what it means to Walk In Beauty, while my own reserves and life force were dangerously waning would be a lie.  To sit before my sisters and share the story of my Medicine Path, while neglecting to continue to walk it, would not truly serve anyone.  I trust that community and connection both come in waves and that the tides of life will bring us all back together again before too long. So I'm telling the tale from home this year.  And this choice, while disappointing in the short term, reflects a deeper and more mature commitment to really showing up and making choices that will continue to allow me to do so, for many years to come.

​
Picture

​R E D E F I N I N G    S U C C E S S

To encourage vitality and facilitate longterm sustainable growth, we must sometimes make hard choices about what to say no to in the short term.  Much like a hopeful houseplant, searching for light and eager to bloom, we can only grow in so many directions at once without ultimately compromising our overall health.  Recognizing now, the importance of making choices which nourish rather than deplete, I'm no longer afraid to cut my plants or my plans back dramatically, in order to ultimately encourage greater vitality.  And so I am making shifts, large and small, in my life and in my business.  Because I want to be more available for me, and for you as well. I want to return to the deep quality of presence that is needed to offer true healing work, meaningful and embodied teaching, and sincerity in the written word. Everything we do in life takes energy, and each of us only has so much if it -- it is up to us alone just how it will be used and directed.


I don’t believe in progress, as our culture defines it;
because there is nowhere to go; nothing to do; no one to be. 


​I don’t believe in progress, as our culture defines it; because there is nowhere to go, nothing to do, no one to be.  Annie Dillard reminds us, that “How we spend our days, if of course, how we spend our lives.”  Real progress is non-linear.  My teacher, Michael Reed has often reminded me that Humans greatly overestimate what they are capable of in the short term, and greatly under estimate what they are capable of in the long term.  A scholar and farmer both, Michael is a man who sees mountains as waves upon the Earth’s surface, rising and falling with tides which stretch beyond our perception of time.  And there are mountains in our own lives, that we can see if we slow to their pace — they are our life’s work, gradually rising up from the subterranean space of our inner world, until at their peak, they are a thing of true power and magnificence.  But you cannot rush a mountain, for a mountain takes its time.  And sometimes it must pause to linger on its slow ascent toward the majesty of the sky.
​
A friend asked me recently, speaking in general terms, “What does it mean to live your dream?” I paused, looking up from my phone to glimpse her sly smile, and freckle-dappled olive skin, black curls framing her soft and piercing beauty.  “Dreams change,” I told her, “visions change. When your dreams come true, you are forced to face their imperfections.  You are forced to see how unpoetic they actually are, unless you make the effort suffuse them with goodness from the Otherworld.  When your dreams come true, you realize that it is not so much the outer world which matters, but the feeling in and around things, which comes from another place entirely.  I have been happier in moments of seeming inactivity than I have been upon accomplishing what I held as some my greatest goals.  Most people don’t know what they actually want, what they will actually feel fulfilled by  We learn more, we grow, the next layer of subtlety is revealed to us and once we see, we cannot un-see.”


​Not all growth is good growth.  


So, what does success look like in late capitalism?  In a time when more and more people are waking up to the myth of limitless expansion and endless energy, how can we envision new models of success and remember what it means to truly live well?  I have learned that not all growth is good growth.  And as my "career" continues to take shape and more and more new opportunities present themselves, it becomes increasingly important to clarify what values guide my life and my choices. Is success defined by a higher dollar amount in my bank account and daily visits to La Abeja Herbs website or it is it a life lived slowly and well; a choice to do more with less?  For me, the answer is obvious and has little to do with metrics or external markers of progress, as defined by our culture.  Instead, I define success is having the ability and the privilege to pull over on the side of the road and appreciate the beauty of the world; to bask in the fragrant explosion of spring blooms in the desert. It is feeling safe and at home enough in my body to take my time, allowing myself to be present to the world that is all around me and within me, rather than looking, constantly ahead to my next life goal, or contemplating the emails I have yet to respond to. Success looks like staying with myself through discomfort; choosing to visit my lover in the desert; knowing that the work can wait.


​
Picture

H E A L I N G    C O M E S    F R O M    W I T H I N
​

If we want to live in a world where that which is sacred is honored, where all peoples are treated with dignity and respect — it has to begin with the way we treat ourselves.  It has to begin with the way that you treat yourself.  When we look at the world around us, and we see violence, oppression, inequality, destruction of the natural world, exploitation of resources, and so on, we must ask ourselves — what is it within me that perpetuates these things, allows them to exist?  What inner resources am I exploiting?  In what ways am I oppressing myself, perpetuating violence in my inner world, devaluing aspects of my own lived experience? If we are fighting for the preservation of sacred sites, the protection of pristine bioregions, the rights of oppressed peoples — and yet we are depleting the landscape of our own body and psyche through this work — what good are we really doing?   Because there is no them.  There is only us. And our actions speak volumes, not only to other humans, but to the spirits and unseen world as well.  When we choose peace in our own lives, choose kindness toward ourselves -- the whole world responds.  Every action, no matter how small, has magical and non-linear effects which are felt deeply in the unseen world and reflected in this one.  So when you are tired, rest.  When you are hungry, nourish your body.  This is the real and sacred work as well.

It is up to us, both individually and collectively, to reject the cult of productivity, and to rest gently in the knowing that our value has little to do with our efficiency or achievements in the outer world.  We must ask ourselves, what it looks to do less, not more.  And the choices you make from this place might not be sexy, or popular, or lucrative — but they will connect with you something so deeply real and important within yourself.  More than your success, this world needs your sensitivity, your kindness, your generosity and your presence; and these are things which can only arise from within.

​
Picture
C O M I N G    H O M E

​So I am home now and the fireflies are out. My hen is laying and the nopales are green and tender, ready to be enjoyed.  The air is cool and I am grateful.  When I sit down to write, I can feel the peaceful expanse of my home around me, the shifting foundation and cracked walls like maps leading to a place I have never been, but would like to go.  It has been a long time since I have given myself Time -- to rest, to write, to be still and go within.  Something in me is demanding this.  For it is the place from which all life springs.  And it is terrifying and wonderful, to trust that I am enough; I have enough; I do enough.  It has been my experience and observation that most of us are so caught up in doing our lives, that we scarcely realize we are not actually experiencing our lives.


Most of us are so caught up in doing our lives, that we
scarcely realize we are not actually experiencing our lives.


By my estimation, the highest form of art and of activism is a life fully lived. A life, each moment of which is tended to with sincerity and presence, alive with curiosity and slowed to a pace that allows for experiencing the richness of the sensory information available to us as embodied creatures. We can access this richness, by softening into and focusing fully on each task we undertake, by sensing with care where every object in our home wishes to live, by allowing the details and subtleties and countless small pleasures of this world to penetrate our awareness. And through this simple slowing down, we become -- without trying -- grace, embodied.

Each one of us has the most profound and impeccable ability to find and set a pace that is all our own. We must only listen to the steady metronome of our own hearts beating, the rise and fall of our breath as it enters and leaves our bodies.  It can begin slowly, with little more than a loving curiosity about our own cycles of hunger and satiety, our own longings for rest and exuberant exertion--because our bodies know, our hearts know.  And as a first step on the long path of cultivating a world steeped in real love and genuine caring, we have a responsibility to begin by tending to ourselves in this spirit first; by committing to care for and honor the precious lives being lived through us, in each moment.  And we always have the opportunity to begin again --  to do it sweeter, softer, and with greater sensitivity than ever before.
​

Picture
Comments

Full Moon In Scorpio

5/9/2017

Comments

 
Picture

Some serious healing magic is afoot y'all. Do you feel it too? After a long day more full than usual with people than plants, I went outside to make an offering of flowers to the pecan tree in my yard. In one hand, I held the small egg I'd just collected from the coop, and in the other a fistful of dried carnations. I looked up and above me, Grandmother Moon shone through the leaves, and I allowed myself to simply bask in the goodness of this day. It was not a good day because it was easy, but instead because I showed up fully to the connections and the healing which had been ripening slowly over time, and were ready now to be plucked, and savored slowly like sweet and potent medicine from the vine of this life.

This Moon in her fullness, invites us to see that it is possible for us to have the connection and closeness that we never allowed ourselves to dream we could -- but only if we will soften into the places where we once hurt most, the places of shadow and of shame. There is healing in darkness, when we can shine the firelight of compassion upon the wounds of ourselves, as well as others.

The moment is now to reach out to that person you've been needing to have a heart to heart with -- maybe for years. Is it possible that the resolution which once felt so far away, is perhaps just now at your fingertips? I believe it is. So, take this opportunity to speak from the heart and to share in the most vulnerable and courageous ways you know how. Deep healing blossoms when we show up as our softest selves. Its flowering in our lives is as inevitable as petals unfurling in springtime, but only if we are willing to own our greatest gifts as well as our mistakes and missteps; to say I'm sorry and to mean it. It is possible to find peace even within a space of profound discomfort and in healing, making contact with your own humility and desire for wholeness are often all that are needed for that first layer of hurt to fall away, and then the next, and the next. Start where you are, by being willing to be seen -- in shadow and in light. Start where you are, first by looking up, then by looking in, and finally -- by reaching out.
Comments

Beauty Medicine

5/5/2017

Comments

 
Picture

A deep bow of thanks to the wonderful group of folks who joined us on last night's Edible + Medicinal Plant Walk. It is part of my daily practice to wander through the alleyways and city streets at dusk, following the subtle pull of the flowers, fruits, and feral things which wish to find me. To invite others into this space of curiosity and nourishment is such a gift. As we bask in the quiet presence of each plant ally, I have the distinct honor and opportunity to share the stories and the medicine they have so graciously offered to me and to my community over the years.

My teacher says -- the way to make peace in the world is to know where you are. And for me, this begins with the Plants. By orienting ourselves to the Seasons and Cycles of the green and growing world around us, we come to locate ourselves more tangibly within the wider web of the world.

Remaining true to my belief that by creating space to simply wander, we will be met by the medicines we need most -- I took the group on a last minute detour down an alleyway filled mostly with Beggar's Lice and Turk's Cap, of which we'd already spoken. Nearing the ally's end and still uncertain of who or what had drawn us down this path, I remembered the enchanting Four O Clocks that had left me intoxicated by their scent earlier in the week.

I gathered the group before the flowers and explained that I knew nothing about them, other than their name and that they were beautiful and sweet smelling. But wasn't that enough? I don't believe that plants or people should be measured by their usefulness or functionality alone. For that, to me, is missing the point of life completely. It is beauty, and novelty, and delight which feed the Holy best, and which act as the animating force of all things. To take people on a plant walk, without acknowledging pleasure as primary, seems cruel. For the time spent in relationship and connection with the plants IS the medicine. The final plant of the evening held no utility as far as I knew -- she was not edible or and I knew nothing of her medicinal value, but her presence alone was healing and good. And that was more than enough.
Comments

Wild Gifts

5/5/2017

Comments

 
Picture

​Write poetry for no one and
Make beauty for its own sake.
Go alone, and go quietly,
speaking aloud, your sorrows and your prayers
in this world and the next.

You will see then, that there are
wild and fearsome Spirits which endure,
even amidst the city sprawl
which unfurls its concrete tendrils
in every direction.

Paving over aquifers and filling streams
we've forgotten to worship
with dirty plastic and discarded clothes,
tennis shoes, and beer cans, and old condoms.

When we can behold the world with eyes wide open, seeing her as she truly is, and witnessing at once, the entirety of both her beauty and her despair -- then we grow so small, that we disappear.

s u b l i m e

and we see beneath the surface;
fat and furry black bumble bees,
who materialize and retreat, to and from nowhere,
and who care not one bit, what goes on
in the world of Humans, but carry on instead
with the same ancient work as ever before.

Comments

My Grandfather's Hat

5/5/2017

Comments

 
Picture

​I wear my Great Grandfather's hat, tucked with talismans of turquoise + coyote fur, as a spell to simultaneously embrace my love of work while also counteracting my natural inclination toward overwork. Every day it seems, I step more into the role of legit business woman -- though this was not always so. La Abeja Herbs began as a small and tender and often private affair, as I traipsed through the woods on silky underthings from another time + wrote love notes to no one in particular on the distant shores of those Great Northern Lakes.

And I am at once, grateful as well as truly astonished at how this long-ago dream has continued to blossom and bear fruits that grow sweeter with each passing year. Business truly fascinates me. I never went to school for it or took classes to help me understand its many intricacies. I didn't even graduate from college. And yet, I love what I do so much that it fills nearly every waking moment. There is always more to learn, more to create.

My Great Grandmother and Grandfather moved to America from Russia and Poland, respectively. My Great Grandfather was a peddler. He started out selling linens door to door, but proved an astute businessman, and eventually opened a small department store in NYC. Both he + my Great Grandmother worked tirelessly, though it probably would have been to their benefit to slow down and enjoy their lives quite a bit more than they did. Often I can sense that this severe work ethic lives on through me. I have to keep it in check. There are days where I work from the moment I wake to the moment I close my eyes. So, I wear my Great Grandfather's hat to honor him [and cause it's dope] and also in hopes of laying to rest this ancestral compulsion toward all work and no play.

We all inherit so much from our Ancestors, both known or unknown. It's so curious to recognize aspects of the Self that often feel almost as though they do not belong to us. These are Gifts and Teachings, and Medicines for us, but we do not have to walk with them forever. So, ask yourself -- what is it that I carry, that does not belong to me alone, but has been passed to me as a legacy to be healed?
Comments

Mimulus

4/15/2017

Comments

 
Picture

​Yesterday as evening drew near, and I walked soft upon the desert sand and my heavy heart was gladdened to run into a dear friend in a place I'd not expected to see her. Mimulus is a longtime ally of mine -- a remedy used for navigating and quelling states of fearfulness and anxiety. To happen upon this subtly sweet sister of the California Coast, here in the dusty desert was a true delight and a much needed reminder that real magic will always beckon warmly to the sincere wanderer.

The desert is layered with luscious beauty and sharp edges, generous shade and scorching sun. It is a place of divine paradox and endless surprises. As a human who could not survive for long in this landscape without the precarious infrastructure of civilization, I consider it a peculiar blessing of the times to be able to wander for hours through the sacred stones, and blossoming cacti, wanting not for water. We are all living on borrowed time, stolen resources, Land as alive and longing for connection as each of us. There is an anxiety that can never be fully quieted in this knowing. And yet, we must continue to move through life with love and with reverence -- grieving, but not despairing.

I have found myself in three separate deserts in the last three weeks. I am on a pilgrimage of sorts, though I knew it not when first I set out. This retrograde disco is really something else and as the planets boogie backward, I for one am tending to my tenderest of places, delicately dressing the deepest of my wounds. In the midst of all this, it is no accident that I found myself sitting beside Mimulus -- an ally whose bittersweet medicine reminds us that everything is okay--even when it's not.

Mimulus is indicated for facing your fears. She is a valuable remedy for those who are timid and reserved and struggle to feel at home in social situations. She helps us to open ourselves to life, when we'd prefer to simply hide away -- to run from those things which scare us most. As Georgia Okeefe once said -- "I've been absolutely terrified every moment of my life and I've never let it keep me from doing a single thing I wanted to do." That be some mimulus magic.
Comments

+ H O M E +

3/12/2017

Comments

 
Picture

at home is where I wanna be. after a lifetime as a nomad, I could not be more delighted to have landed somewhere that holds me so sweetly, at long last. this morning I planted comfrey and yarrow, lemon balm and mugwort, baby aloes by my front door. and in so doing, I made a promise to be good to this place, to this thirsty earth which surrounds me. I made a promise to tend and to listen, and to sow seeds of beauty and regeneration in this place I now call Home. what a gift it is to steward some small corner of this world, to sing songs to call the Spirits back into the soil and to delight the ground with the kiss of bare feet and lovemaking upon her surface. my wishes for this place are many -- a great big claw foot soaking tub in the yard, dusky wisteria blossoms vining over fences, and psychedelic passionflower too many to count, a few laying hens to help me bring the hard pack soil back to life, a thriving garden of plants both wild and cultivated. but I know that the real work lies in the world that is, largely, unseen. to truly love a place is to give it life. when you walk past certain forest glades, or streams in the wood, you can sense something truly holy emanating from them. human homes, too, can hold these sacred Spirits of goodness, both feral and domestic. may I honor the gift that I have been given, may this home be a place of beauty and of healing, not only for me but for all who pass through it.


photo snapped by Leslie Satterfield during a near-perfect moment
of sweetness and sunshine on the back porch of my dreams 

Comments

Real Love

3/9/2017

Comments

 
Picture

f i r s t ,

L  I  S  T  E  N

+    +    +
​
Real Love is Soulful, cyclical, non-linear, and often messy.  Real Love is spacious and inclusive and it will reveal us to ourselves, if we allow it to.  Real Love gives rise more of the same, for to Love deeply in one direction, is to strengthen the presence of this holy force in all other areas of life as well.  I am learning this.  I am remembering this.  I am willing this to be so -- personally, politically, and in ways that are deeply private as well.  

Love and Compassion are but two faces belonging to the same ancient Muse.  True Compassion is boundless, and all-encompassing and it is fiercest of all when extended unconditionally to those who've hurt us most.  
​
+    +    +


While I was in Colorado recently, I had the rare privilege of spending time with a very wise and dear friend who shared her perspective on the current administration through the lens of Buddhism and her belief in the basic goodness of all Beings.  I questioned aloud, what she was saying -- that at their core, the individuals who are intentionally perpetuating and escalating systemic violence, racism, and oppression -- retain their basic goodness, and that beneath the many layers of fear and hate which inform their actions, that they too have an unmarred innocence and sincere desire for liberation.

We walked along the alpine ridge-line as we spoke, through fragrant Ponderosas and crisp cool mountain air.  Like bears just woken from their Winter-long sleep, we made our way, lumbering awkwardly over patches of bare earth in our snowshoes, soil and stone exposed by the early Spring which had melted the snow a month too soon.  I tried to remain curious and open to her perspective so that I might understand what she was saying.  But, I felt very attached to my sense of justice, and to the belief that there are forces of good and forces of evil, that there is life and that there is death.  I was, in essence, attached to a dualistic perspective.  A perspective that, simply put, made me right, and them wrong.  But as our conversation and our walk progressed, something in me began to soften, and to remember.

We stopped in a sunny clearing, and set into the steady rhythm of fetch, as we threw a stick for her eager puppy to retrieve.  We hurled small wooden branches down a steep hillside, with the goal of getting Yeshe, the dog, good and tuckered out, as she put all her canine might into sprinting to collecting her prize before beginning the steep ascent -- again, and again, and again, and again.

To illustrate her point, and help me to see what she was getting at, my friend went into great detail about the unwavering non-violent resistance of the Tibetan people in the face of the truly horrifying genocide and erasure of their culture and religion that was and is taking place at the hands of the Chinese government.  And her words reminded me of the non-dual nature of reality.  Her words reminded me of Time which exists on a scale beyond any of our lives, or our children's lives, or their children's lives. Her words reminded me, that what is important, is not whether we win or lose, but rather how we play the game.  Death felt close as we spoke, loss felt intimate.  My breast heaved and my gaze narrowed toward the horizon, as this [new // old] perspective found it's place once more in my psyche.

Lyla June Johnston, an Indigenous Poet, Activist, and Leader, who I admire greatly, reminds us that "when we fall to anger and to hatred, we become the very thing that hurt us."  We have all been hurt before.  And we've hurt others.  We know that there are many ways to resolve conflict -- some more effective than others.  In my experience, when someone I have hurt approaches me with curiosity and makes generous assumptions about the motivations behind my words and actions, I am far more likely to be interested in their feelings and experiences in return.  On the other hand, if that same approaches me with accusations and blame and the immediate judgement that I have knowingly wronged them, I am more likely to become automatically defensive and shutdown.  This is true for most folks interpersonally, and it plays out on the political and planetary strata as well.  How can we get curious about what is beneath the violence and oppression that we experience in the world?  

I believe in action and I believe in resistance, but I also believe that holding a space of sincere prayer and of unconditional loving kindness for all beings -- most especially those who harm us -- is, perhaps, the most foundational practice for true resistance.  This does not mean that we accept or even tolerate the abuse, or the atrocities, but simply that we understand and remember that Love feeds Love, and that violence, whether overt or subtle, feeds violence. 
And I am working this out within myself still, for this belief presents a great many murky waters to navigate, especially as someone who holds a significant degree privilege in this culture.  I am an able-bodied, middle class, femme-presenting, fair skinned woman.  And I see it as my role, ultimately, to listen right now, and to stay curious about how I can stand in solidarity with others who hold less privilege than I do.  But I do believe, that no matter how I, or anyone chooses to resist, that if we allow that resistance to come from a place of care and empathy, not only for ourselves, but for those who cause us harm as well, that we will be more effective by far than if we allow that same resistance to be born of a place of fear and hatred for that which we deem, other.


"Forgiveness is some of the strongest Medicine in the world."

- L y l a    J u n e    J o h n s t o n



I have been so moved and inspired by Lyla June.  Last year, she led the Forgiveness March to the Morton County Police Department, to pray for the police officers and law enforcement officials who had injured and committed violent acts against the Water Protectors at Standing Rock.  At that time, I felt angry and helpless as I watched from afar, the injustices being perpetrated against the Indigenous Peoples of this Land.  And then I melted into tears of humility when I heard and saw the incredible compassion that Lyla June offered to these same people whose actions so angered me.  Lyla June reminds us that "Forgiveness is some of the strongest Medicine in the world."  Upon hearing her words all those months ago, I understood, that when we can truly love those who harm us --  this is real Healing, this is real Resistance. 


I believe, now, in writing love letters to the Guides and Ancestors of those who misuse their power.  I believe in praying for their healing, making offerings at altars dedicated to their awakening in hopes that they might remember all that which is Sacred.  May softness reign, may forgiveness belong to us all.   May we find more and better ways to offer real Love, fierce Compassion, and Forgiveness against all odds -- not only to those closest to us, but to the people who have harmed us as well.  May we remember that their healing is our healing.  May we remember that Love feeds Love.


​
Comments

Keepin' It Real

3/5/2017

Comments

 
Picture

Lately I have been receiving a lot of reflections from folks about the way I choose to share myself in writing and in images online. People commend me for being so vulnerable, so sincere, and so intimate in my offerings. But I don't see it that way. Because it's easy for me to share my Heart and to share my story, through the medium of writing. Well, easy might not be the right word, but it's safe at least. You see, the written word is intentional, and almost like a spell. You can edit yourself and rework your thoughts until they're clear and concise and consumable. Speaking them aloud is something else entirely.

Sharing stories in an off the cuff kind of way has always felt nerve wracking for me. So when Erin of Active Culture Family asked to interview me for her podcast, I agreed wholeheartedly, but not without hesitation and a touch of self-consciousness. In our just-released podcast convo we explore some deep material. Our exchange touches on many aspects of my life and practice that feel so very personal, so very real. And through this experience as well as others of late, I am coming to find that there are some words which are meant only for the ear and not for the page.

In the podcast we explore grief and gender and loss and sexual ecstasy and how all of these sacred topics are inextricably interwoven with plant medicine. It's real good y'all...

L i s t e n   H e r e
​
Comments
<<Previous

​F A Q    / /    P R E S S    / /    C O N T A C T
Picture
Picture
Picture