this is the horse poop that olive and i collected from some neighbors to amend the garden. why won’t our garden grow? back in the day when i had a plot in the community gardens it was like butter. i planted a seed and it grew, to full term, perfectly and wonderfully. now, that i am at 6800 feet, it’s like i might as well live in the sahara as far as i can tell, gardenwise. the raspberries think they’re growing in sand. as does everything else. (i'm exaggerating a little bit, i know i don't water quite enough, it's just so tricky with water conversation guilt for me...) except the peach tree. she is a happy one. so, i’m trying horse poop. i’ve heard it makes a big difference. i will spread it around, and keep trying. i’m probably going to be eighty when i figure this gardening at altitude thing out. damn shitty mutha ‘uckin crap. that’s how i feel after all the time i’ve put into gardening so far, the past 8 years here, with sad results. so sad. and yet i am still hopeful. but honoring the sadness and frustration too, damn it! an elderly neighbor woman who has been gardening in our neighborhood for decades told me horse poop is the cure. well. here we are. we have the cure. and a really sweet horse friend, who makes a few wheelbarrow loads of it a day, and is happy to share his gold, for free! a cure like that is pretty swell.
Think for a moment what your life would be like if you were able to jettison anything that did not speak to you on a Soul level. What would remain? What then would you "hunt" because it provided for you on all levels? That is what Owl medicine teaches us to do. We find that as we begin to move through the process of what we truly want, clearing the old to make way for the new birth of the Self that is close at hand, we find that other obstacles, limitations, fears and anxieties also begin to "die" in our lives. They no longer have the hooks to remain attached to our energy fields and without our support, they must die.
that is an excerpt from this site....
http://morningstar.netfirms.com/owltotem.html
umm, i love that about as much as anything i’ve ever read. whew. that’s a reason to get an owl tattoo. or to collect owl things, which i seem to do
over the past few years i’ve noticed.
my crazy crazy crazy self. this princess inside me who wants order, and she wants it all the time. if i use the owl wisdom, and jettison all that does not speak to me on a soul level, i would clearly see that being uptight about whatever mess i am freaking about is not speaking to me on a soul level, but on a very surfacey-mind level only. oh owl. please guide me to this wisdom so that i may relax more and more into the messiness of life.
i just love order so much! what am i going to do? i am back to this age old issue of mine, yet again. but that’s what we do with our core issues, isn’t it? revisit them on the circle endlessly, hopefully gaining a little more insight, understanding, and clarity into the unseen, unevolved, darkened aspects of our relationship with the core issue each time. oh, am i looking at this one again now, or what? mess mess mess. is there a mess in my shadow somewhere? am i just an obvious mess to everyone who sees me but myself, and that’s why i run around picking up this and cleaning that all the day long, and still never getting to all the mess? and then look at the first picture. horse poop. POOP. the biggest mess of all. when a child poops in the wrong place, or takes off a diaper with poop in it and proceeds to step in it, track it, sometimes eat it, that’s pretty much the most horrific mess a mother comes up against. and i did yesterday, actually. but look. the mess, the horse poop, is actually what i need to make my garden grow! i need mess. I FUCKING NEED MESS TO LIVE! holy holy crap! literally! IT IS HOLY CRAP! THE MESS IS HOLY! WE WOULD NOT STAY ALIVE WITHOUT IT.
maybe i need a tattoo of poop too.
okay. dinner time. dinner that needed messypoopydirt to grow in.
wait, one more thing.
i am talented, and sometimes have a challenging time. this is what my therapist told me i am to tell myself when i am playing my guitar but not liking what i sound like. my normal self-talk would be more like, ‘you suck, this is a stupid thing to even try. you’ll never get this.’ terrible.... i would never say that to one of my kids, or a friend, or anyone(!), who i saw struggling to learn something that wasn’t coming easily. no way. i am a cheerleader to the bone. just ask my sister what i was like when it was time for her to push Juniper out into this earthly air. i became the cheerleader i was in junior high. and that baby wasn’t coming out easily at all, but that did not stop me even one tiny bit from encouraging her to stick with it, to tell her how amazing and powerful and beautiful she was, and to acknowledge her incredible otherworldy effort. no, i channeled the cheerleader, and out came that baby. when it is crunch time, and i am challenged, i want to talk to myself like i do all my loved ones. i want to be my own cheerleader. give me an H! this is so important. self confidence. self love. self cheering. i need a megaphone tattoo too.
oh man, that makes me want to tell my cheerleader tryouts story.
can you tell i am jacked on jasmine tea??
No comments:
Post a Comment