i’ve been bumping into this word almost daily for a few months now. i started hearing it long ago in a kripalu yoga class, but lately i hear it everywhere. not giving much stock to coincidence anymore, but thinking more about synchronicity, i guess i better pay closer attention to intention. i admit i haven’t been dealing with things in a mindful way, but rather have just been reacting. maybe the universe is annoyed with me and has decided to start nagging?
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yesterday was a very bad day.
driving to work, early in the morning, the car in front of me decided to turn left. as i approached it’s rear, an oncoming car wanted to turn left between us. no time to stop short to let the oncoming car clearance. i checked my rear view mirror and saw a car that looked to be aways behind. i switched to the right lane to get out of everybody’s way.about a quarter mile on i see luisa’s car behind me and i wave. she’s pissed. she’s yelling at me. i motion to her, “what the fuck?” she makes her way ahead of me and stops near where i usually park in the lot at work. she gets out of her car and comes up beside me, yelling, “you ran me off the road! it was like you didn’t even see me and i ended up in the Chili’s petunias!” i said, “i didn’t see you! omygod!”
i realized that the car i saw in my rear, objects-are-closer-than-they-appear mirror, was luisa’s and she was probably right at my side.
ogod. i almost killed my friend!
it’s a true friend who, after you fail to kill her, comforts you in your realization that you almost totally fucked up.
later that night, i found out my uncle died.
uncle andy was truly my second father. we lived next door on 3 acres of ground. there was me, my sister lori, my cousin donna and her brother andy. all of us in descending, two and a half year order. we played together. ate together. bathed together. grew up together.
my mom died in 1989. uncle pete died a couple years ago. now uncle andy. that’s it for the ferrilli’s. my mom’s line is gone. there’s no one but my dad and aunt rose left to hold the line between us and mortality. and their hold is tenuous…slipping fast into the oblivion of failing health and dementia.
it’s our time now. our time to plan the funerals and to face the reaper one on one.
we are holding the line now and our grasp is slipping and our children are turning to face the future.remember, be here now.
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lovely night last night. i highly recommend tarot/reiki shares.
it seems everything in my life is pointing to shifting my perspective and direction…or possibly reclaiming my original purpose. for most of my life, i’ve turned away from what truly interests me; from what i love; from what i was designed to do. i’ve suppressed the stuff of my gut for the responsible, rational, linear road.
and now it seems, the world is working hard to point me somewhere else. animals have come into the picture to show me a better way. the tarot last night laid this out on my coffee table, cushioned by a silk scarf. it came to me in our talk that abandoning my creative core, my art, is some sort of self-inflicted punishment. an old punishment started by my father, who would take away my paper and pencil when i didn’t conform to his idea of who i should be. now, instead of the ache in my hands, the ache is systemic and i don’t know who i am at all.
so, what to do? i don’t know. drop it all now? move cautiously or with wild abandon? learn to accept the mundane and eek out a private reality? i can get stuck in the planning phase and never move on. that would by typical. but i don’t have that kind of time at this stage of my life. if i don’t move now, i could miss a *real* opportunity. this too, would be typical.
i don’t want to be typical. i’d rather be a wild and crazy crone.
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yesterday, i was sitting at my desk, doing what i do, when one of the librarians came rushing up to me. she told me i had to go see something. we walked out of the building, up to the sidewalk, judy checking the ground. then we saw it. a very large bright green caterpillar with an orange face and butt, adorned all over her head and back with large black and orange horns. she was about 5 or 6 inches long and a good 1/2 round and fiercely beautiful.
i got very excited and told judy to go get a box. i didn’t want the poor thing to get smooshed by a student or a car. we decided to take it to the biology department. now, i figured that the wonderful experts over there would take a look and nonchalantly declare it something unpronounceably common. instead, we got, “what the hell is that?” “where’s the entomologist?” “eeeeeeeeeewwwwwwwwwww,” “does it bite?” “that’s not real! is it real?” and the like. they decided to take it to the insectorium to keep it safe, since by this time, the poor thing was totally stressed and beginning to shrivel.
when i got back to my desk, i googled, “entomology caterpillar monster” and found that my precious worm was a hickory horned devil, totally harmless despite its fierce appearance.
then today….
going back to work after lunch at home, not three blocks from my house, i almost ran over a great blue heron! she was standing in the middle of the road. i stopped. she looked at me and then she flew off. i had to sit there for a good long time to collect myself.a great blue heron! in the fuckin middle of suburbia! berwyn! just 20 miles from philly for goddess sake!
what does it mean when a great blue heron crosses your path?
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I found some interesting websites while hunting around for schools for herbalism, aromatherapy and such. Check it out if you’re interested in wimmin-centered stuff.
this one has lots of links:
http://www.wemoon.ws/an interesting link on their links page is this one:
http://www.dangerousoldwomen.com -
liz teaches yoga out of her home. i attend her thursday night class, which is a very yin style of yoga in the kripalu tradition. her class isn’t physically challenging to me since i’m used to doing ashtanga and power yoga, but i go more for the meditative aspect that is the core of her teaching style. it’s really more therapy than exercise. liz emotionally massages away the troubles of the day to bring you into the present moment. past regrets, future worries are set aside, exchanging stress for breath.
i started dabbling with yoga when i was about 15 or 16. i bought this little hatha yoga booklet (i still have it) and practiced the asanas in the living room, trying to get my mother to do it with me (that never happened). i had no idea what i was doing, but i remember the exhilaration i felt when i did dhanurasana (bow pose). the practice was fleeting, but the interest persisted.
all these years later, yoga is now everywhere and there’s no lack for schools, studios, teachers, and ashrams. dhanurasana is no longer easy but lately, some of that old feeling is making it’s way (slowly) back into my poor, old body.
so what i need now is to be mindful of this practice of letting go. letting go of the harsh, negative, and psychologically destructive aspects of my environment and focusing on the now. i have to ram das my life and be here now.
there’s no telling how much now is left and i don’t want to waste any more of it.
Croneswood Art 