Breath

Through this autumn of 2020 I've been thinking a good deal about breath.

To breathe is to live.

As we all journey through this peculiar time in world history, here in relative isolation, I've been living my life in simple, daily ways and noticing my breath, my lungs- how they feel, where they are in my body and what limits my capacity to breathe. I am also noticing what it is that causes me to breathe deeply, to relax, centre and feel alive. I first began to notice the impact of fear and anxiety on my ability to breathe easily, just before the "Lock Down" here, almost 3 weeks ago, when Rob's mother sent him an email that we had no idea was coming- it's been three years since they last spoke and with this unexpected correspondence came a wave of deeply dark energy and trouble. The following day Rob hurt his knee with a piece of wood while building, (and he'd been doing just fine on the safety front until then)

which created an injury to the bursa, that then developed in to cellulitis and caused a huge amount of subsequent trauma and worry. This pattern of cause and effect has been repeated hundreds of times through the last 26 years. When it first began it was through letters being sent. Crazy behaviour and angst would inevitably erupt in our household and other consequences- troubles: burst pipes, complaints at Rob's work, our children having wild meltdowns, terrible arguments between us and various forms of accidents and sickness. Nothing I did ever stopped this dreadful process from happening again and again. We'd pick ourselves up, just get our dignity back and mend the broken pieces when wham it would strike in yet another form. I eventually took to pegging the various letters and other posted items in trees in the garden until Rob came home from work, as I didn't want to bring them in to the house. Many times we burnt them, some are still at the lawyers office for "safe keeping"- out of our domain. The thing that I noticed this time around, was the impact of this dark energy on my breath. When the autonomic nervous system (fight/flight/freeze) is triggered due to a perceived threat, the breath shortens and becomes constrained and the natural easy rhythm is misplaced.

One of the consequences of these visitations is a form of mis-communication and dislocation between us (which is why I knew something was very wrong before the email came through) and it was a wee while down the track before I realised that Rob was in trouble with his knee injury. It felt like the whole world was against us and it felt very, very scary. A water pipe in our front garden then burst. I felt incredibly panicky and anxious through these days, while also wandering in and out of rage-a huge anger that this woman would continue to bring so much trouble into our lives. And my breath told me the story- shortened uneasy breath and heart palpitations.
How can this possibly be- well may you ask!! A woman who loves Jesus above all else, yet can activate so much harm in the life of the son that she professes to love so well. Every day praying- prayers becoming bad medicine. "Blessings" sent that morph in to curses. My lungs hurt- life diminished to survival. But I..AM..WOMAN here me roar!! (huge breath)- how dare you!! This life of ours is not yours to take. This marriage is sacred before God! And so I set about gathering my medicines and herbs that I have spent the last year preparing and I made poultices for the infected leg & others for the damaged knee and I made nourishing food and herbal infusions and I brought out my tinctures and I read some more of what I needed to do.

 And so with a doctors visit (for work and to be safe and yes, an antibiotic) we applied what we had and little by little we healed....the leg, the knee and our lives.
While Rob rested, I walked to the trees..my friends. And I found strength and I found solace and I gathered up my courage. That first day- heart beating strangely, breath all over the place, anxiety  extreme (beyond normal- I'm a resourceful person) and as I walked across the paddock under the watchful eye of the grand old trees in the Showgrounds, a bee came and landed on my hand, a little further a long a red admiral butterfly came fluttering up and landed on my breast- breathe....reassurance- it'll all be ok.
The next morning when I could hear the sound of water rushing through the pipes like crazy and Rob was still asleep, I walked around the house in the early morning mist in my dressing gown- once again feeling agitated and anxious (what next!) when I looked up the path and here coming towards me was the most beautiful little hedgehog- all will be well. Breathe.

 As is the way when you develop a relationship with healing plants- just the right thing presented itself to us to help heal the knee. A post by a friend prompted me to research the Cotton Rose bush that is growing down the back of the garden. A glorious thing- its also known as Hibiscus Mutabilis as the flowers come out white then fade to pink and the following day they finish their life in a deep shade of rose.

 This is the first year that our Cotton Rose has flowered properly. It'll be finished as soon as we have the first frost. I read that the flowers most especially can be crushed and used as a poultice to help reduce inflammation due to injury. Perfect! Breathe.

 We both felt ourselves settling in to trust, breathing more fully, as these beautiful flowers began to work their magic.

I crushed up one flower at a time to make a poultice each day.

 Until we found that it was no longer required.

 Lots of rest was also helpful.

 Beauty...deepens the breath too and is everywhere we look.

 Cats know just how to collapse in to deep peaceful relaxation when they feel safe.

One morning I was watching a video from the wonderful healer Prune Harris and she was demonstrating an exercise that connects the lungs and the immune system. I taught it to Rob and so we practised it that evening in Lucy. He got it perfectly. Breathe- deeply. Rest.  

You can learn it here too, if you like.

And so we naturally return to  "Acknowledging the good that we already have in our lives as this is the foundation for all abundance". Slightly paraphrased from Eckhart Toile.

 And soon enough we have been able to ride our bikes and walk again together and visit our beloved places and trees. For it is amongst these friends- "The Lungs of the Earth" that we find we can draw breath most deeply.

 And know that we are safe in their care and strong arms.

It's fascinating to me that we call the in breath inspiration- to inhale, to in-spire.
Trees absorb carbon dioxide, humans exhale it, trees breath out oxygen- the very substance we need for the breath of life-in. Isn't that amazing!
I have also been thinking about this global state of emergency caused by a particular virus & it's mutations, that is effecting and limiting the breath of the entire world; simultaneously. This impact is brought about obviously physiologically, but also psychologically. The virus infects/invades the cells and inhibits the natural function of the body, the emotions of fear, panic and anxiety and so forth, evoked either by presence or imagined threat of the virus- in us, have precisely the same impact. All of it alters our ability to breathe- in, oxygen. Life.

The dictionary states that breath is:

~ The air inhaled and exhaled in respiration.

~ Respiration, especially as necessary to life.

~ Life, vitality.

~ The ability to breathe easily and normally. She stopped to regain her breath.

~ Time to breathe; pause or respite. Give him a little breather.

 And isn't that just the simple reality of things- we each must attend to our own respiration. Our life breath is our own and cannot be shared. Our inhalation forms our inspiration- out of which comes our unique creative gifts- our offerings to the world. When we are not able to breathe freely we seldom flourish.

The dictionary also offers this definition of the word inspire:

To fill (someone) with the urge or ability to do or feel something, especially to do something creative.

I love that we are so wonderfully and marvellously made, but it's funny how we really have so little knowledge about all the complexities of our human functionality. I'm a pretty simple living woman, I've come to realise- while others pursue knowledge, information and what they believe to be truth with great gusto, I am happy pottering a long in life with my own personal interface; yet ironically, I ask a thousand questions a day and I have a huge passion for learning- real stuff- things that are either wondrous, or that provide answers or assistance for everyday living. That's why I love nature so much. The plants and trees never put you crook and are always too happy to see me and offer their support and assistance.

In the lovely Steiner/Waldolf model of the 12 senses that I mentioned in my last post I have discovered that there is no Sense of Breath- I guess, because breath is life itself, but there most certainly is The Sense of Smell. Fairy Dust Teachings suggests: " It is through the sense of smell that we gather massages about the environment with every breath we take by the automatic function of smell that detects dangers, food, and other people. Think about common phrases we use like "I smell" trouble in the air". "Did you get wind of that?", "She is a breath of fresh air", "It's stink that she can't have the day off"....Our sense of smell plays a powerful role in the way we recognise each other, are attracted to mates, recall memories and even warnings about the environment around us".

I realise now that I have always had particularly acute senses and it is through my sense of smell most of all that I navigated my early years of life. The comforting smell of my Teddy was my anchor in those first 7 years of my life. The scent of winter sweet, blossom flowers, daphne, feijoas, passionfruit etc were all indelibly embedded in my olfactory memory bank from very wee. It was the smell of the house at Sunray Avenue (Rob's childhood home) that I will never, ever forget- the rank, mouldy, musty odour of contained mildew & dirt pervades every inch of that dwelling. It always made me feel very ill and sometimes gave me nightmares. Half the house has no concrete foundation so the stench of stale dirt has permeated everything in those 50 years of it's standing. Interestingly- in truth, I was never welcome, nor safe in that house. What we can smell we can make a choice about- mostly. "Ooh that bread's gone mouldy" causes us to throw the offending food in to the compost. Stinky feet, bad breath- we'll keep our distance. And of course, there are all the glorious smells that enrich our life daily: the comforting smell of dinner cooking, for instance, allows us to relax, feel safe and perhaps edify our much needed sense of belonging- even if just to our own lives.

But, it's that which we cannot detect, yet we breath in, that can really cause a problem: the pollen grains I see all over my car just now, but are invisible to me as I inhale them, or the cold, 'flu, covid19 virus that gets right up your nose without giving the slightest hint of it's presence. Even more disturbing is the energetic, covert toxin that arrives by stealth and causes chaos without the slightest permission- only the symptoms give it's presence away. In every instance it's the breath that let's us know what's going on in the beginning.

When it comes to these invisible invaders, we find that we are not in control of the situation, but what we can do is to gather around ourselves allies that will help to strengthen us and equip us to manage an uncalled for encounter with that which seeks to aggravate or destroy. And again I return to my simple ways and knowledge. It's tragic that in our modern age so many of us have lost generational knowledge of almost all good living practises. This has been brought home so powerfully as we've all had to be so forcibly re-educated to the basic practise of washing our hands to stop the spread of disease- any disease. But we've also forgotten about fresh air, sunshine, gardening, growing food, gathering herbs for nourishment and healing and how to prepare and cook food from real and actual ingredients. Learning and practising folk medicine and growing our own food or foraging for it and knowing local food producers well is the most fundamentally empowering thing we can learn to do for ourselves. Every part of this process is entirely in our control. We get a choice. We get to build our own immune response system in to health, or we can choose to tear it down and pretend that someone else was in charge. What I love so dearly is that these skills will travel with me through the rest of my life and they help me to breathe, to inspire, to create, to live my best life and they give me the very best shot at loving myself and others well. The other toxic stuff- I'll go on fighting for our freedom no matter what it takes.

Weaving a Nest

I have long been fascinated by the idea that we perhaps, have 12 senses, rather than just the 5 that we are all so familiar with. It was Rudolph Steiner that first proposed this intriguing concept. I just love this post here at Fairy Dust Teaching that explains it all so beautifully. Having been raised in very conventional ways, myself- this news is thrilling to me. Suddenly, everything makes so much more sense, now that the missing bits have been delivered. It's like only ever having a set of five primary coloured crayons, kept in a very skinny pencil case, with which to colour in the world- so limiting. And then, quite suddenly, being presented with a complete rainbow box of delicious pastels to work with- everything changes.
I really like this homeschooling diagram as it puts the development of the 12 senses through childhood in to very helpful perspective.

And this is why I believe that a "good" childhood is so vital, a child's well-being is woven strand by strand with fine threads & teeny stitches in to a belief & value system that will travel with her the rest of her life. It may seem a very strange metaphor, but this belief system is much like a healthy pelvic floor- elastic & supportive & beautifully constructed to hold all the vital organs of creativity in place- effortlessly. The fabric of childhood values, is in fact, not crafted by the child, but woven by others around her. She may offer small snippets to be added in to the creation, but she is not the architect, nor is she in charge of the project. Some of the materials used are imperceptibly passed on by other generations, others are absorbed in to the fabric simply through the close & seamless bond with mothers & caregivers, as for some long time the little one does not see herself as separate from the mother, but as one & the same. Which is why I inadvertently absorbed so much of my mother's self hatred & melancholy. As a child you have no idea what is normal or healthy, or if it is not, it's just your life. Some of us are offered beautiful life blankets woven with love, richness & great skill, that we carry with us in to the adult world gratefully. Others are offered blankets of discordant colours & materials that may be scratchy & itchy & cause us no end of trouble & discomfort & do not serve us well. It is a very difficult thing to find yourself with a dumb life blanket. And the truth is, we are not at liberty to just throw the thing away, it's ours whether we like it or not & we must figure out for ourselves how we will re-craft the offering, in to a support that will more graciously sustain us. This work may mean a life time of unpicking.
I have come to observe that many people receive perfectly fine life blankets, others have a good bit of work making do & mending theirs, and then there are the others- the scapegoats & black sheep who have to face the truth that what they have been offered will harm, kill or disable them if they don't deconstruct the blanket almost entirely. The reason that we are not at liberty to simply burn the offensive thing is that by now it has also become part of our emotional & physical body.
I have become very aware of a troubling phenomena of recent times, as I observe many people around me suffering- really, really struggling with unsolvable, incurable health issues. And in every case I note that the life blanket given to them in childhood is a toxic/scratchy one. I  have struggled for the last 30 years with a lack of vitality & an inability to resolve health issues & become fully well myself, no matter what I have done to try & help myself, until now...now that I have fully separated myself from a father who intends me nothing but ill-will & has done so for over 40 years. You see, it never stops in childhood- the toxic thing, it goes on & on- sticking to your life life like dog poo on the bottom of your shoe. You cannot just simply, pull your socks up & get over such things.
Those who are so damaged that they have nothing to offer their offspring other than life blankets embedded with utterly inappropriate poison apples, are to be pitied.
Their legacy to their victims is a perpetual & gnawing sense of un-belonging & abandonment that follows us in to every nook & cranny of life, never allowing us rest. As a consequence we end up in a state of heightened anxiety & nervousness, struggling to trust others & the goodness in life- we long for even a little of the happiness & sunshine that others seem to so readily gather around themselves. Once activated by the life threat, we come to discover that the panic switch is set to always on & alert, & our rest & restore function is rendered faulty or broken.
So, how do these parentally disordered human beings come to be this way?
I cannot tell you.
All I do know is- that when you reach old age you have a lived your life daily, thirty thousand times over, making one choice, one response of love or contempt, kindness or selfishness- one decision at a time. How we came to have three such people within our family life, I also cannot tell you.
It has been a long 30 years of suffering the consequences, but we have done the work, we have used the tools that we have managed to dig up or find for ourselves & we have methodically bent our heads & worn down our fingers as we unpicked the corrupted & ugly threads & we have rewoven them with feathers & usnea & sheep's wool & joy. Snip, snip pull. Warp, snip, pull, discard, weft. Snip, snip pull, discard. Warp & weft.
It's not enough to proclaim "tell me if I ever start to behave like that!" the ink is indelible- the threads must be cut & pulled.
At various times through the years we have looked up from the work- to rub our aching necks & pause to consider what home means to us, what love means to us, what feeling safe means to us & what would healing from it all really look like.
Well it looks like this: photo credit: Linda Hallinan

 A work of art & perfection. Cleverly, beautifully crafted, little by little until the very best nest is formed. And it always fits the family, the person it is made for- just right.
I love too, the way that my beloved Wild Carrot (Queen Anne's Lace) mimics the nest- flowers giving way to seed & closing in on themselves to form a beautiful, natural womb of protection for the mature seed of her making. One of the golden threads of nature is the miraculous- humans don't always know that they can be part of the same lovely plan.

When we came across that lovely Danish concept of Hygge- making life cosy & warm, we were so delighted & we set about infusing our lives with as much Hygge as we could muster. Recently we came to see that the fundamental thing that must be in place before Hygge makes any difference at all, is the state of The Nest. We each get to craft our own nest through our adult years, but we will only do a fine job of this creation if we have truly assessed & dealt to the state of the life blanket we we've been given so long before.
The first of the 12 senses is The Sense of Life, or The Sense of Wellbeing.
Fairy Dust Teaching suggests that one of the fundamental things that children long for is a rhythmic life-
"And it is the rhythms that hold life- rising and setting of the sun, seven days a week, the cycle of the moon, the twelve months in a year- that we build our rhythms upon. Children require rhythm and actually long for it!! The more rythmical the life of a child, the healthier that child."

Here in this home we return again and again, as beloved children to the basic threads, materials for building a cosy nest- the scents & the beauty of seasonal flowers growing in our garden.

 The wonder of lettuce going to seed.

 The gratitude for the delicious Red Shiso that volunteers each summer in cracks all about the garden.

 The medicinal plants like yarrow...& the visitation of bees.

Seeing once again the wonder of the process of metamorphosis right before our eyes.

 Knowing, always knowing that Lucy is just there, keeping company with the hydrangea Bloody Marvellous. Lucy feels like home- always.

 Eating a rainbow from the garden- because there's nourishing magic in such food.

 Standing in awe before an echinacea flower- such astonishing form.

 Gathering so much glorious summer produce from our little community garden down the road, then sharing it with others.

Harvesting Kawakawa fruits from the school down the road & eating breakfast with joy.

 Gathering wild flowers for their colour explosion. Wow!

 Picnicking by the river at Sacred Hill in the heat of summer, having taken the time to prepare delicious food for our dinner.

Marvelling at the setting sunlight through double Thalictrim blossoms.

 Holding the nourishing gift of red clover blossoms- also offerings from the summer garden.

 Bothering to peel the mountain pawpaws & making Nan's old Fruit Delight dessert recipe with them.

 Taking the time to carefully collect one of every begonia blooming in pots. Their petals are tangy & lemony & so much fun in salads.

 Sitting a sunflower head on a wee seat- like an important visitor.

 Reading snippets of fabulous books like Apples for Jam to each other, warms our hearts & makes us feel loved.

Memories-
"There's children's laughter escaping through the iron gates & past the oleander, and the daffodils, sprinkling on the just-cut lawns that line the road and fluttering up to me through my open window, falling over my shoulder's like fairy glitter. And that atmosphere of sleeping head to tail in trains and on holiday, and knocking on walls to see if others are still awake". Tessa Kiros

 Staying to watch the moon come up even though it's long past tea time & then running to the car 'cos we're freezing.

 These are the threads of life that we now weave- rhythmically, daily, joyfully.
Vintage French enamel bucket- op shop find.

Because all that really matters are the moments- knowing that you are loved, will always be loved & you are truly, fully awake & alive.

The moments...

"Observing freedom" 

 Captured in a split second by David (son). Click photo to enlarge
 Life. Gift to see.

Moulin Rouge sunflower in Matthew's amazing, productive garden.
Photo- Matthew (son).
Life. Gift to see.

Also snapped in a moment of time. Setting sun. Effects- produced by Australian wild fires.

Photo- mother. Life. Gift to see.

Photo- father. Me age 59. Life. Gift to see.

When The Nest is woven with threads of love, kindness, care & acceptance...warmth naturally comes to fill it & grace abides.

Life

All is well.

Our Very Own Home Land

The last couple of months have been quite remarkable really- as we have established the restorative rhythms of visiting "the land" firmly in to our lives. Many people have dreams & plans to travel to particular places all over the world, and really, it's astonishing that in this age, almost anyone can do so- if they have a mind too. But the funny thing is, that as we journey on in life together- more & more we find we have a no desire to travel abroad & a greater & greater compulsion to explore the land all around us in our own city; our own province of Hawke's Bay. As we go out in to the countryside- to the rivers and the beaches and the forests and the wild places; the familiar places & those we never even knew existed before, we find a deeper & deeper sense of grounding & homecoming weaving our lives together in coherence, meaning, purpose & healing. The more we show up, the more we are met with open arms & provision & a breathy sigh- of "Thank goodness you're here. Welcome!". It's a remarkable & unexpected phenomenon. Our lives & memories will never be the same again. At last we are able to surrender the past of our origins- all the prickliness & ostracism, the factions & unacceptability that was our lot & that was thrown at us in a myriad different forms. Quietly now we close the door on loss & rudeness & settle in to a whole new way of being.
I think perhaps this little holiday of a few days at Kairakau in early April was a real turning point.
We now see our own land through the eyes of the sacred & the heart of belonging & that, can never be taken away from us.
So here, I am once more, writing our story- recording our journey home.

It only takes about 40 minutes to get to Kairakau beach from our place and the weather was pretty variable and crazy, yet we had the most wonderful time and we've been talking about & recalling our adventure ever since.

Good old salt-of-the-earth Mo had set the fire and the mouse trap and ensured we had everything that we might need for a happy stay. A retired orchardist he was on the go the whole time we were there- taking care of everything & everybody in this little Central Hawke's Bay seaside settlement.

When you travel by car, you can take whatever you like- well almost. We stopped at a little organics place just out of Waipawa & found these lovely little flowers for $4.50. I stood with my mouth open for a second and said "What $4.50!" Then, gratefully paid for them.

Sometimes small places harbour quirky interesting people (no not Rob). There's a mosaic lady out here who's very clever and left her mark all over the show.

Just along the very short road at the beachfront you cannot help but notice the track going- up!  The only thing is- that track doesn't look nearly so steep when you observe other people going up it, as it actually is when you try to do the same. 

So when we looked at each other and said "shall we?" we had no idea that when we got half way up, scrambling in the howling wind with all that slippery grass, that neither of us might feel safe to contemplate coming back down again & I didn't fancy skidding down on my bottom! I was pretty sure that tumbling might occur, so we decided there had to be another way.

So up & up we went- thinking that if we headed along the top of the cliffs we must surely find another route down any time soon.

No, not that way Rob.

There were a few fast words about now- I can you tell.

We had two options (or so we thought) keep going across the cliffs to the next bay & walk back along the beach, or head across the farmland & catch up with the road over "there" & hope it took us "home". Those smooth paddocks were, in fact, puggy & deeply pocked but eventually we made it down to the road before dark...

just in time to see Mrs Tiggywinkle wander across the lawn to greet us.

Fortunately we had thought of a nice simple dinner before heading off & that ginger scrumpy certainly went down a treat.

The following day we decided to take a drive to the next beach around the coast.

It turned out that that beach was called Mangakuri & although we've lived here for 30 years, we'd never heard of it before.

We foraged rosehips & sand dune baby potatoes!

Naked ladies seemed appropriately sited in the dunes.

As we traveled the unsealed country roads we came across a dear little very old church at Mangakuri.

We were amazed to find that it was open.

It seemed a bit peculiar to find thousands of dead flies all over the floor & we wondered if anyone had been here in recent months- years even!

Later I discovered that there had, in fact, been a delightful celebration only the previous weekend.

A gathering of a House of Bishops no less!

It's quite handy being the passenger & to be travelling at a sedate speed, so as not to miss a thing- so when I realised that the crunch & scrunch under the car wheels was the crushing of chestnuts I called for a halt & we were soon greeted by a keen little friend.

We gathered piles of enormous sweet chestnuts & walnuts just from the roadside as we passed through Waipari station.

The next beach is Pourerere. What an unexpected sight it was to see these three standing here gazing out to sea.

We had no idea the rich history tucked in to this sandy cove. For a young nation - this place is our grass roots.

We didn't like the beach itself very much. There's not the cosy community feel of Mangakuri. Pourerere felt plain & unwelcoming even though some of the landscape was starkly beautiful.

It wasn't until we were leaving that we discovered

a mysterious gateway with a sign about another old church. Like many before us (we were to later discover) we unsuspectingly wandered up through the old overgrown garden to see what we might find at the top....

oh-oh, the church had been sold & it was now someone's home.

Quickly we turned tail & scuttled back down to safety.

But, all was not lost, as directly across the road was yet another gate with a sign- "Pourerere Church Knoll"

So up the path we wandered- again...past the masses of stinking iris (Iris foetidissima)

& found a lovely little church graveyard

sun dial

..filled with interesting bits of local history.

Having learned of the wonderful healing benefits of elm recently I was intrigued to see this elm stump & how with a last fading pulse of vitality this old tree had woven itself a crown atop it's mortal wound.

What resilience!

We barely met another vehicle on these lovely back roads as we tiki-toured around.

We got back to Kairakau just in time to dash across the river at low tide 

arrested by showers & rainbows in the journey

before scrambling up to the look out on the other side. 

Flying home again...

we found mushrooms to add to our baby potatoes for our dinner.

On our gentle journey home the next day we stopped to forage the most delicious pears I have ever eaten.

And three different kinds of wild apples..

some that like to make nests.

The hawthorn berries were in abundance too, although they cannot be picked quickly- for the thorns.

The rich abundance we came home with we are still eating months later.

We can't wait to go back & explore the area again. This lovely old historic bach has rather captured our hearts.

Perhaps we'll get to stay there, maybe we'll just picnic at the church knoll. However it all unfolds it'll be a grand adventure for sure, in this land we've come to love with all our hearts.