Spring

Having spent many years working in the landscaping business I have done a fair amount of thinking about the lessons I can learn from nature. Guidance is ever present just waiting for me to take notice, thank goodness she is patient with me. Most times I am moving at lightning speed not stopping long enough to pay close attention. And when I do, damn, I have to vow to myself to do it more often. This weekend I put aside everything but my garden. I spent both days playing in the dirt and enjoying spring in our tiny oasis. Treasures were everywhere, just waiting for my attention. Spring is an amazing time, reminding me of what is also awakening in my body after the long winter.

I came across a thought that I wanted to share. With my new book coming, “Lessons of a Wayward Yogini,” (I know, I have to plug it) I seem to be hyper sensitive to lessons these days.

In the first few months of moving to Cool four and a half years ago, one of my landscaping clients had a red maple tree in her yard that was not thriving. I had put it in a few years earlier, and no matter how much I coaxed that tree or how many fertilizers I applied, it just was not happy. I told my client I would swap it out and put another tree in its place. When we dug the tree out, I brought it to my new home. It was worth trying to save.

This weekend as I stood beneath the same tree only a few years later, I admired its beauty and marveled at the growth. It is at least twice the size, if not three times. The tiny maple blossoms fluttered as the wind rustled through the tender spring leaves, putting on an incredible show. I took time to watch and study her dance.

I spent the remainder of the day thinking about the basic premise of this tree living in an environment that was not nourishing it, for whatever reasons. The tree simply was failing to survive, a slow progression, but one that in the end would have ended in the tree’s demise. These few years later in an environment that was providing what it needed, it had become a strong tree. And if she was a woman, I would just have to say she knows the power of her beauty and she flaunts it every time the breeze blows.

Across the garden a bit later in the day, I was still wondering, how different are we humans, really? If we spend too much time in an environment that isn’t nourishing our soul, we too begin to fade.

This maple tree serves as a reminder that with the proper nutrients and sunlight, enough water, and some tender loving care, it is possible to change and reverse a negative course.

I believe humans are no different.  It’s hard though to make major changes in our lives if we find we are not happy in a relationship or in our careers.  And with that said, it’s important to note that the tree went into major shock. You can’t dig up a plant and shove the root ball into a garbage bag, without the tree looking pretty grim for some time. Same could be said of humans. Any major life altering changes definitely put our systems into shock. But we too have the same recuperative powers as nature, maybe even more so. After the transplant, so to speak, our mind and body become strong again, and if we have moved on to a life that has the requirements we need, we then have the power to one day sway in the breeze as beautifully as my little maple tree.

Some might say the hardest part is knowing what will make you happy in life. I disagree. I think the hardest part is facing what isn’t making you happy and moving away from it, and accepting that for a while we will feel like we have dug up our roots and shoved them into a garbage bag. Life is nothing if not about our choices.

Spring

I’ve been giving spring a lot of thought the last few weeks, since my book, “Lessons of a Wayward Yogini” is scheduled to be released this spring. My editor, Dennis, www.5editorial.com gave me grief about not putting quotes around the title of my book in a recent post, so he will be thrilled that I’ve corrected this. And I might make major points since I’m also sharing his link. Even though I’m paying him as my editor/publisher, I’m trying everything in my power to encourage him to send along some of his BBQ. He seems to be a jack of all trades, or in this case, a Dennis of all trades, and I’ve heard he makes a pretty mean BBQ.

Back to spring… is there anything better than a bud on your plants as they awaken ever so slowly in early spring? I can’t help myself, I run out to my yard almost every day when the plants are filled with their tiny buds just to peak at them and marvel at their new growth that will in short order be something of delicate beauty. Against all odds, winters filled with freezing temperatures and snow at times, their tiny shoots nevertheless find their way from their dormant state to once again greet a new dawn, a new season.

I feel like a kid at Christmas, those buds are like presents wrapped under the tree. There is such a feeling of anticipation in the air, as well as such a sweet fragrance. It lifts me inches off the ground as I walk through my garden, if only in my mind. The scent definitely encourages a deep yogini breath, and brings a smile to my face and a contentment deep in my soul.

Spring to me, is the promise of rejuvenation, of another season, a second chance (or in some cases a third chance if we are speaking about the deer eating the plants in my yard for two seasons in a row, until we developed deer fencing 4.0.) And even the word spring, its synonyms are leap, jump, bound and vault… obviously a time of year with great potential for advancing all that needs advancing or healing.

I think we humans are no different, we need a new beginning every year or so, to rise up and bloom again. Our earth offers all that we need by way of nature and our fellow humans. It’s up to us to embrace the energy and support that surrounds us on any given day. Without that connection, it can be somewhat easy to feel alone, even when we are anything but.

I’m dedicating this post to a few of my friends who are a bit under the weather. If you have to be ill, I can’t think of a better time of the year to do it.

Here’s to spring… Namaste

The becoming of a book author

Some believe that our loved ones who have left this earth communicate with us through our dreams.  I’ve had a few dreams about my mom since her passing, most of them somewhat disturbing.  But last night, I had an amazing dream about her.  There was such a lovely connection between us… an honoring of what we had created together, a knowing that whatever we might have left undone, would wait for another time and place.  In the dream I was attending a gathering of women, and I had been asked to give a talk, and although the reason had to do with my upcoming book, the topic I was going to discuss was my mother.  I had prepared such nice things to say about my mom.

But she disappeared toward the end of the dream before I could give my speech, and as hard as I searched, she was nowhere to be found.  I felt no despair though, instead an understanding that out of sight was only pertinent to this lifetime.  From what I can recall, we spoke more through our eyes than our words.  And our union was clear and strong and there was no room for blame or sorrow.  Instead all that I felt was a strength and a calmness. 

And although I’ve been a bit emotional all day, I’ll take it because my dream left me feeling optimistic and safe. 

I’m heading into what I anticipate will be a somewhat difficult period finishing my book and getting it published.  I’ve said it before, and it bears repeating.  To reach a long sought-after goal is exciting, but at the same time a little daunting.  In my dreams, the book is a friggin’ bestseller, it’s all good.  There is something very safe about living in your dreams. 

But the reality is that publishing a book is without doubt baring your soft underbelly for all the world to see, especially when you’ve written about yourself and not some murder mystery or summer romance (although I’m sure the same feelings apply, it’s your creation on the line.)  And there will be people who don’t like the book, and a few friends who aren’t really all that interested in the book, and that all needs to be okay.  But who am I kidding if I try to tell myself that I will be completely fine with that.  I won’t … at first.  I will need to learn to leave any negativity in my wake, which I’m pretty sure will be a lesson I learn in baby steps.

With our goal of releasing the book this spring, February has arrived to wreak havoc with my sleep.  I wake up most nights now at about 3:30 a.m. with all of the what if’s and what still needs to be done racing through my mind. (No amount of melatonin is going to quiet this storm.)  Last night was no exception.  I tossed and turned and made mental lists until about 5:00 a.m.   And it was when I finally fell back to sleep that my mom arrived, I have no doubt, to remind me of her confidence in me.

I may have already told you this story, but when I was in fourth grade, I peed my pants in class.  Oh, my, way too old to do that.  But in my defense, my teacher was very strict and I was afraid of her. I waited much too long to get up to ask her to go to the bathroom.  Standing at her desk, asking permission (which of course she so easily granted… really?)  it was too late.  I stood frozen peeing right next to her desk (served her right for being so unapproachable.)

Perception is an interesting thing, many times what we believe about someone is not accurate.  Turns out The Bitch was actually very nice to me in my time of need.  She told me to go straight to the bathroom.  She cleaned up the floor as quickly as possible (at least in my mind, because of course I was already out the door.)  And she met me in the bathroom and told me to go on home as it was almost lunchtime.  I so clearly remember running home crying all the way.  And my mom surely gave me the nurturance and pep talk I so desperately needed, but at the end of lunch, I was going back to the playground, no ifs, ands or buts about it.  She armed me with her words, and sent me off crying all the way back to school.  But by God, everything she suggested I do, worked.  There was no real aftermath after the Great Pee of 4th Grade, thanks to my mom and the teacher who turned out not to be a bitch after all.

I am beyond grateful for my mom teaching me to walk into the storm, hold my head up high, know my strength, honor my truth and leave any negativity on the path behind me as I dance toward the light. 

And I am beyond grateful for her reminder last night, which I will tuck in my back pocket to take along on this journey of a lifetime, the publishing of my very first book. 

Yesterday I saw the first blossom on my magnolia tree out front.  Even though the storms are lining up on the horizon for the next few weeks, spring is following right behind them.  Here’s to the sweet smell of spring combined God willing with the sweet smell of success.

Namaste