“Devotion to the life skill is infinite” ~Unknown

There are many different types of stew, as many as there are people. We’ve each been given a set of ingredients which, as we grow, change without notice. As we learn to develop our seasonings, we over-use and under-use some, and some fall into habitual. As we move on, some realize that they were never given any water, and some have too much- another one we get to figure out on our own- too much water an abundance of fire- whatever it is- it’s part of  our make up. Some days we may feel like we are drowning or on fire- and it’s our job to figure that out and deal. There are many roots and hints in this stew- I personally, have a very heavy seasoning of “be hard on yourself” and “what’s the point of this” which lends itself easily to self discipline in many ways, and have a deep carrot tap root- one that connects to times long past but somehow holds extreme importance in terms of my self worth.

There have been many times that I have attempted self discipline- but by the time I was working on that there was no “success” feeling when it happened- not a single “pat on my own back”, so of course this didn’t help. So so many assumptions placed on a child with a pot of water- no examples laid out, just salty disappointment when whatever they thought was “follow through” didn’t happen. Well, that is like forgetting to tell someone water will boil if you leave it on the heat. When accomplishments started to happen- it was always like some surprise- which came with an assumption that it could never happen again. This seasoning has to go.

Sure, I am wheat free and dairy free and anyone that isn’t thinks this is “some feat” -well- it’s N.O.T.- all that is is me not getting sick- the amount of physical pain I have had throughout my life from foods is astronomical. So, that is easy for me- it’s sort of like not doing something that you know will break your leg, or like not walking out into the street in front of a cab. But when it comes down to the basics, the seasoning of self confidence and some sort of sense of accomplishment – it’s like adding in a rutabaga to an apple pie- no sense of flavor.

As I sit here and watch the morning fog filter misty-ly away, giving the sun it’s time to shine- my eyes rest on and follow the mist, the little specs that sparkle and shine, then disperse… and then I realize- sooner or later I’m going to have to find some sort of a sense of accomplishment.

What this directly has to do with is fear. being that I have had, let’s just say, a dramatic life so far- dramatic, charmed and pretty darn lucky- but definitely dramatic. I have been looking fear directly in the face on many levels, all of it bubbling around me. And I just keep going. regardless of jumping from pot to pot- I toss myself into different moments, some of which “should” be good for me, and I make it. But still, with “something missing”. Before, however, I was convinced that it was for the approval of someone else- but in reality, as we know, it is my own that I seek.

A month ago today, on the One and  Half year mark passed my mom’s moving to the next plane, I did something for the first time ever, something that is just for me as an artist- and I totally freaked out, thinking I needed (needed my wish of) some family member to tell or talk to about it, as if me and my relationship wasn’t enough. But then I realized, I need to tell myself, I am all that really needs to approve.

For the first time in my life I actually have an art studio to work in.

There, I said it out loud.

Now I have to go find some Church bells to ring…

Oh, wait… I mean

A stew pot to stir.

Time Tree

“Give In to the Sit” Day4

15 minutes mid-day
Lots of thoughts  pushed aside for later- but sorta like “herding cats”.
It was still hard to take a full breath- today though, from stuck emotions (not the weather). I can feel where they are maybe I can work them out in asana <3

One Of My Favorite Trees

There are days in which I wish I didn’t remember,

and then there are days in which I remember what I thought I had forgotten.

Most of the time, it’s just in the trees.

For quite some time I have coined myself as a “Lost Lamb” – this past year and a half , to say the least, is the highlight of this enigma. The past few weeks especially have been quite the doozy in this area. It’s one thing to “feel” different from the pack, to not be “understood” and to be “mis-understood”- these are pretty normal occurrences for me and doesn’t really sway me anymore- that was childhood.

Feeling like a “Lost Lamb” for me has nothing to do with “the others” and the ‘group’ mentality – But it has everything to do with the way I am processing my experiences and the way I’m “looking out” of my eyes. It has everything to do with being comfortable with the self regardless of what life is throwing out and I’m not catching, regardless of income, anxiety, pain and regardless of ‘future’. It is all right now, the way I’m putting up my own building blocks and pulling out the foundation. All on my own. It has nothing to do with “fitting in”, which I never quite do anyways, regardless of how plain I look right now, and have for years.

It’s all in the eyes- what shroud have we today? May it be woolen, or silken, or some sort of pretend organic material- it doesn’t matter because its all a part of being a “Lost Lamb”. Whether moving forward, sideways or levitating- if I am not comfortable in my skin- WHAT is the point?

Well, life is worth living, remember? we went over that, tuesday in the ‘Beaming diidhiti’ project  – HERE – I said it, now I have too stand by it.

“Lost Lamb” or not, eyes “open” or “closed”, the one thing that remains is the fire inside- might singe my little white lamb, might even turn my lamb into the black sheep -(or back into it)- which doesn’t really matter as long as the jewel in the midst of that fire stays reflecting.

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So, a month ago i headed out (well, in) to have a home practice. I started out really strong- splitting my practice between the yoga studio and home- which was working out pretty good. Then i went out of town to honor my mom at the 1 year mark of her passing. So, no yoga practice happened on that trip, which didn’t surprise me much- but eventually led to a whole host of other stuff (because in faern’s world when it pours we create a river) which then led to full on grief- insatiable, unrecognizable grief. (I’m convinced i barely skimmed the surface) which then led to the kind Flu sort of thing that makes you feel like you have alien babies growing within the crevices of the internal universe- yeah, one of those “colds” took over my entire world, confusing, just, everything. So here I am, practicing at the studio again, besides days i don’t practice, hoping it wont take long to get back into home practice. [ #365yoga monthly instead of weekly posts]

Photography by Faern, http://www.faernworks.com

(this project was originally published in common ground magazine sept 2010)

Exuberant, mystical
playful embodiment.

All knowing mischief.
A dance of glorious remembrance

Between spirit and matter.
Scampering, as luminous

guardians of nature.

Awakening majestic stillness,

the ancient ones, as they are,

delight and savor the magic of the

natural world, and unseen forces

and energies enfold.

credits:

set styling: Faern
clothing accents and accessories: Lucid Dawn Designs
clothing: special thanks to Clary Sage Organics

http://www.clarysageorganics.com/

styling assistance: KK Ledford, Lucid dawn
photography/set assistant: Becky Hurwitz

models:

Kk Ledford 

 

http://www.facebook.com/home.php?#!/kkledford.wildmoonwisdom?ref=ts

Lucid Dawn

http://www.lucidawn.com/Welcome.html

Elizabeth Rosser
Lorien Ondre
Beth Nieman
Lali Wilde
Tara Dale http://www.yogatreesf.com

this project was originally printed in common ground magazine

yoga issue, 2011

http://www.sopdigitaledition.com/commonground/#/48/

please be sure to turn the page!

you can see some out-takes here: (more will be released soon)

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=196784&id=36555287083

i havent written much of anything lately let alone post on purpose i am just one

big jumble of emotions that i just dont want to share im stirring the pot too see

what else is in there not a thing seems normal nor am i surprised by that there

are these little memories and some disturbances too spread around my

apartment they catch me and they confuse each other because they are the same

sometimes and we reach a point where we start to wonder or wander and

realizations that surface can be so painful especially since now theres no thing

that can be done about it so we sit with it and how long does that happen this

sitting  correlating with our work here to do whatever that may be i cant even

write this without bursting into tears robbed just robbed so hard to come to

terms with these methods of less being

anyhow,

its almost midnight, i will post something everyday.

what shall i do?

here is an image, hopefully my posting desire will return tomorrow.

day15