8.8.15 The season of green, of enough rain, and plenty

The season of green, of enough rain, and plenty , we enjoy to the fullest , knowing soon enough it will shift, and shift again . Ah , the ease of running out of the house with no boots or heavy costs or gloves, but just sandals and t-shirts. How delicious.

8.8.15 No roiling skies; just a dancing field

Yesterday I pulled over , and sat by the side of the road, taking in the undulations within the tall field of corn, as the evening winds swept by. Van Gogh, on a more temperate day, perhaps . No roiling skies; just a dancing field.

 

8.8.15 The Cape, a childhood, and the forever sea

     It was on cool breezy days like this, that I sat on the wooden swinging seat at the Cape, in my grandparents backyard. Myself and the grasses, the rock garden tucked WASPishly behind the weathered Cape; the hills and hills of short Scrub Pine. Sand for earth.

     My grandmother was a quiet stern sort , tall,and slender , elegant with waved grey hair . Long fingers, long legs, all her shoes soft slip-ons , that curled up , once removed. 

Years later her malaise would transform into ALS, which at the time was determined to be wholly psychosomatic in origin. 

     I'd now and then be invited to come for a week , to Cape Cod, and be shepherded quietly about by my kind quiet grandfather, who started the business my father later stole from him; then off my father went, happily bullying people, making millions.

     But this was before. Before stealing businesses or ALS or even more little siblings to be born to my unhappy wild parents , and when I went to the Cape to visit , there were no children , no animals , no toys. A few times, my grandfather would take me to the beach,not to swim, but instead , piercing through his worry and sadness, to stand with me on the broad silent sands, and watch the deep green ocean. 

     One afternoon my grandmother came outside to find me, taking my hand and leading me to where I'd stowed my nightgown , after waking up wet and unsure what to do. It is the only interaction I recall. 

     In the evening , they would both come out back and sit beneath the pines, and we would all have cold Cranberry juice, with much delight.

Meals were quiet , days and nights quiet , so I'd take myself on long walks out into the woods, and down by a crass human -dug pond. I 'd sit and watch insects and relish the fresh ocean air, spinning itself through all things .

     Once , my grandfather brought me to the store for groceries , and bought me a straw hat with miniature objects attached all over it. Tiny fake sea creatures and sandals and umbrellas and beach pails . He'd look over at me and smile, saying " Now don't you look smart!". And I 'd smile back, pleased. I loved that gift. wearing it constantly, though not in the house ; holding it in my lap as I sat on the broad swing in the shade, pushing the ground to send myself swaying back and forth in the lazy day. Making up songs as I imagined miniature worlds with people who wore those sandals , and let the Star Fish stay alive in the ocean , instead of killed for tourists.

When I was a teenager , we did not see them, as disagreements had finally hit the ground, but all seven of us kids , and parents , went to see my grandmother for a last time.

     My grandfather wrote me a few kind letters , and subscribed to Writer's Digest for me, knowing what would take me years to realize, that I loved words, writing.

     The year after she died, he bought a gun, and quietly took his own life, sitting alone in their home, unable to continue on without her. At the moment of his death , something shot through one of my brothers , which he later realized was connected. 

     On a day like this, with the bright clear skies and the ardent breeze passing through, on its way to somewhere else , I remember the feel of being there, with and without them. Odd, and yet a relief, to be without however many siblings were born yet. Away in a small Cape forest , by the forever sea.

8.8.15 The view up the street, on a clear day

8.7.15 Enough human life crap to sink ten ships .

     There is a story that has been writing itself in my head., for the past year. I love the characters and the story that reveals itself ; but there is no fascinating. , titilating twisting, turning plot ; just lives unfolding , as they do .

     if there was a diabolical, all-will-be-revealed plot, it would not be such a wonderful thing to do , writing and discovering the lives that each person becomes.

     I keep thinking I should 'insist " it develop a complex plot line . Stand up straight ! Get disciplined here.

     "You all, over here. Right now. " or "Let's get nitty gritty, everyone , a little 'As The World Turns"?

     In fact, the story keeps going by way of the inescapable hard events life invariably holds. Deaths and childhood illnesses, brain injuries and addiction . Racism and harm. One of the main protagonists becomes a paraplegic . Maltreated children are rescued and adopted , others born of surprise. Traumatized adults slowly wind their way toward committing suicide. Others pull away from their lives ,in distress .

     So now, come to think of it, there really is enough that surprises , that weaves together. Some things that die on the vine. 

     Perhaps I've been immersed in this work, that tumbles along by itself inside of me, waking me with new characters replete with their predilections and fine thoughts and tragic flaws .

Suddenly , I realize there is already , by its little subconscious lonesome, enough human life crap to sink ten ships .

8.7.15 How to prep for and follow up on a bodywork session for the most impact

     A lot of times , especially as we grow older, we don't have the extra funds to get bodywork Thing is, if you consider seeing someone who can settle you or build you up or shift challenges , and you put in place your own supportive measures for 2 or 3 weeks prior ( good sleep , quieting your body and mind a bit, gentle eliminative support, simpler diet) you can then go have an intelligent pivotal session, with lasting results . 
     What that does is not the be-all-and-end-all, but can coalesce what you have started, refine the rough edges, and support the glitches. Then you can go off, and do what you can to continue the momentum. A very intelligent effective way if utilizing bodywork .
What often looks like for many of my clients was something like
1. Liquid Bentonite Clay, starting tiny, working up to 1tsp/2x day
2. A daily walk, with some sort of internal or verbal intonation to keep in the present , eg. count to 7 w in breath , 8 to hold breath, 7 to exhale . To settle the mind and body .
3. Some sort of tea or herbal product to build strength, that us Adaptogen based. Look it up or ask the clerk at a natural foods store. Adaptogens benefit the whole body; can be used in an ongoing basis.
4. Focus a little more on your food- good quality protein, green leafy and orange vegetables 2x day.
5. A bath once a week w. Some sea salt and baking soda ; maybe if you can, some Epsom salts and borax (NOT the detergent , just plain borax ). Will suck garbage out of your body slowly and gently , and your skin will come alive with smooth healthy beauty .
Doesn't have to be perfect it all that, but doing that for a few weeks gets things rolling; put a session into the mix refined and balances. Then continue your supports. You'll be delighted at the changes that a few things can make for your health .