Spring

The trees are still bare, their thin black branches whipped in the wind rolling along the valley today, but appearences are deceiving.

Spring is surging and swelling and even with my eyes closed it's a tangible force to be felt, smelt and heard.

A pair of pigeons hop coquettishly in the sycamore outside the window, fluttering  their spring dance in the tree tops. Down by the stream, tadpoles are hatching in thick black wriggles, burying into the soft mud at the bottom of the pond. Yesterday, Leo and I found a decapitated mother frog surrounded by her own eggs, abandoned on the path near the pond. The tragedy of death surrounded by the promise of new life.
When I lived in a house I never felt the arrival of spring. One day I would just notice that it had arrived, it always seemed to surprise me. Here in the woods I see every leaf unfurl, notice every minute of extra daylight in these candle free mornings.

And when I sit alone in the woods feeling crumpled and resentful about some injustice or sadness in my life, I sink down into the mossy ground and it seems as if the earth is alive, warm and full of movement. The energy is palpable, an upward thrusting of spring virility. The woodland floor is sprouting bluebell leaves as fast as it can and baby rabbits are already hopping among the brambles.

When dark winter recedes I wake up too, the spring energy is in me and everything seems more possible and more likely. It rouses memories and connections which have slumbered peacefully through the cold months muffled by winter. Lily always seems more present in Spring, this will be the third one since she left us. Spring rips the bandages off the wounds she left behind and leaves them raw and vulnerable again. It's not a bad thing, to feel them. Winter numbs and subdues, sends it all underground, but with each new flower that blooms Lily comes closer and there is all that pain again, but also the chance to heal a little bit more, to share a little bit more, to search a little bit more  and to grow. There is always that.

Too much........everything

Do you know how I feel that my days are spent? Yes, I do cook, clean, care for children, write, knit, grow things, exercise, socialise and so much else, but do you know what really seems to dominate each and every day? Do you know what fills in all those moments when I'd really love to be doing something creative, something loving, something meditative?

Sorting, shifting, rationalising STUFF.

And I'm sick to death of it, absolutely had enough. It has been like this for as long as I can remember (apart from those careless light, and airy days on a Corsican goat farm, or travelling round the west coast of Canada with just a back pack, or any of those deliciously unencumbered adventures of my pre children days.)
My days are simply clogged up, like festering stagnant pools, with bits of God knows what, boxes of 'I really don't care what happens to this,' bags of things that I can't just take to the charity shop because they need to be sorted first. Aargh! They sit in the hallway, these boxes and bits, these bags, squat and sullen like a family of messy trolls, tripping me up as I walk by with their warty old toes. And I resent every minute I have to spend over them; I fume and cuss over the endless trails of ephemera, toys, paperwork, THINGS, which float like a miasma all over the house. Which I must sort, tidy and bring to order, again and again and again.
I'm sure you know what I mean.

I'm sure you know what I mean because I think it's the same for many of us over privileged members of western civilisation, to have replaced lives of basic necessities with lives which are cluttered and overflowing with a thousand little pieces of uselessness.
Ah! That's where it gets difficult, because actually, when you start examining the 'stuff' it can get pretty interesting...hmm remember Aunty Jean gave you that little pink box with the necklace that broke, maybe we'll mend it, Aunty Jean would be upset if we...oh! remember when you used to love this toy elephant, and I'd forgotten I had this....and so the pile of Stuff to Sort Later starts to grow.

So what's going on? We live busy hurtling 100 mile an hour lives, with twenty new things on our to do lists every day, our minds buzzing with the intrusion of phones, ipods, laptops, radios, tv's, new messages, new articles, books.....and our homes are groaning with the presence of things that we think we need, but can't cope with.
Because we really can't.

It's driving us all crazy.

It's driving some of us crazy because we can't have it and we think we need it, and its driving the other half of us crazy because we have it and we have to spend so much of our lives tending it, polishing it tidying it, worrying about it getting stolen, fretting about what happens to it when we die.
Do you know what?
It doesn't matter what happens to it, because when we die all we take with us are our beautiful spirits, and we leave all the tat and rubbish behind. So why don't  we spend more time adding lustre and beauty to those instead? Here's some ideas:

• We could stop buying things we don't need.  You know what I mean, I don't mean sit in a bare room eating just potatoes, (although right now that sounds pretty appealing) I mean stop before you get your wallet out, and pause...will I be using this in 6 months time? Does it serve a purpose...do I NEED it? You've probably already got three at home, check first.
• Stop doing, and just be, at least once a day, plant your feet on the ground and feel part of this earth, remember your body, wriggle your toes and remember they're there. We're all beautiful and shining inside, we don't need all the material crap to hold us up. Feel the beauty, of yourself and the world.
• Yes, I'm coming to get rid of the rubbish, but here's the bit I find hard. Decluttering is very fashionable and feels good, but don't start buying again to fill in the lovely serene spaces. Things have a very sly habit of creeping in insidiously, and all those charity shops make it so easy to pick up a bargain, and quickly offload another brimming sackful. They actually encourage us to see objects as readily and easily disposable, with a tick in the box for helping charity a free ticket to buy more. DON'T!
• Spend the time you have saved by minimizing your belongings on reconnecting with yourself,  Find out what you're really like, journal, draw or meditate and just feel what it is to be you.Be still and breathe past where you usually would. I find it so hard to do this, surely it's wasting time, couldn't I be doing something more productive? Oh! productive, begone! Does the oak tree outside my window worry about being productive, or the squirrel scurrying past?
• Reconnect with your family and friends. Sometimes I realise that a whole morning has been spent tidying and I have been pushing my kids aside to do it, or I turn down a lunch invitation because it just seems too much. Connection with others nourishes us deep within, unlike the quick shallow fix of a shopping trip.
• Reconnect with nature. Now I realise that not everyone lives in a wood, so it's so much harder for some to do this. But try! Find a tree, a patch of wasteland, watch a sparrow hop on the roof, smile at a dandelion pushing it's way through the cracks in the pavement. We're all together, we're all unique important parts of our planet, but material possessions and concerns send us into a sleepwalk through life. We are dulled and sedated by the things we see in the shops and want, and buy. They literally make a barrier between us and our natural environment. If you can, walk, (don't take any stuff, well maybe a spare nappy for your baby if you must!)  in the mountains, walk by the sea, walk in the woods, walk in the park, feel the bark of a tree, the raindrops on your cheek, the sea foam around your toes. That's what being alive is about!

We are not separate we are all connected.

I have just moved out of a very small space and will soon be moving back into another equally compact dwelling. It asonishes me how much stuff I have accumulated since my last move, and we now I have stacks of boxes sitting mutely in storage, all waiting to draw me in when I go and see them. I am SO DETERMINED to make new start and never accumulate again. Does that sound rash? Impossible? Unrealistic?
It's my challenge for the next year when we move to our new woodland dwelling, I am so heartily fed up of frittering away beautiful clear hours, days and weeks with sifting and shifting.

I don't want to die having only the shackles of my possessions around my neck like a noose. I want to fly free like a bird, to see clearly the shafts of  golden sunlight, to hear the murmuring of my ancestors, to feel the rushing wind on my cheek, to love and be loved. What more is there?

Afterword: A few moments after I took the photo of Leo at the top of this post this morning, he crouched down in the grass, as I was rushing along, and said, with a dreamy look in his eye.
'Mummy stop, I just want to look at the dew drops sparkling in the sun.'
And I did. And it was lovely.

Moments of solace

These days are challenging.

There's nothing like the whisper of change to cause brewing storms around our home. The threat of 'different' , the worry of  the 'not expected'  the anxiety of a changed routine. When there's definitely a big loud change right on the horizon, well that brings up all our anxieties and throws them into the pot together and gives them a good old stir.
So when we're say, moving house in 2 weeks and again in 2 months, you can imagine we have a potent mixture brewing.
When we're leaving the place where we have our last memories of our daughter and sister, and where her accident took place, you can begin to see that these are challenging times indeed.

I'll save the challenges for another time, because right now I'm trying to focus on keeping a positive flow running through myself and my family.

Actually, I haven't really been looking for help. So tied up with my anxiety, grief, dread, worry and a million practical concerns, I have been forgetting that help and solace is all around me and in me too. Luckily it comes searching for me sometimes, even when I forget to look.

• Yesterday, it was a huge flock of wild geese flying in formation over the busy street in town as I scurried late to the dentist. Lifted from my distracted thoughts, my gaze was captured by the power and beauty of their unity and purpose. A moment of magic that provided real soul nourishment deep down, and brought tears to my eyes.

• The day before it was a little toad hiding under a log as we cleared the garden. And a midnight badger waddling into the hedge as I drove home under the round silver moon . They danced into my clunky day deepened my breath, and reminded me of my connection to all four leggeds, and six, eight, or two legged beings. Life became simple and beautiful again.

• A little while ago it was Jo. Our cat brought him in one evening and I put him in a box with some sheep's wool and a saucer of goat milk over night. A rainy disgruntled Sunday at home was transformed. Squabbles, insecurities and demands melted away as all the children united in the care of a tiny blind baby rat.  Fed from a dropper with milk and nestled down again for 'naps,' Jo was lovingly tended all day. I was amazed at the change a rodent 2cm long could bring to our small home.
• Every day it is having an outside toilet! Having no drainage in the woods, we have a compost toilet a little distance from the caravan. Even when the winter frosts freeze me to the core, to walk out of an intense little home into the woods is always a blessing. A little wren hops on the handrail outside the toilet door, a tree creeper whisks up the big old oak tree nearby, a squirrel races off the woodshed roof and back into the wood. A moment of quiet to put my troubles in perspective. 

• It is a sunset streaking pink and gold over the hills of Dartmoor beyond our woodland enclave. opening up my narrowed vision.
• It is a moment of shared understanding with a friend at a busy school pick up.
• It is my four year old offering me a foot massage 'because I love you so much'
• It is laughter..how good that feels.. to break throught the tension and stress and connect with someone else light heartedly.

It is so many things, and they are always there, I just need to see them.

I guess it's all about connection. When I am stressed, I disconnect and burrow deep down in my own private little pit of misery, when the world reaches out to me and I respond, well my whole family benifits from the change! I just need to remember to keep open, the universe isn't the one closing down....

Thankyou (and foraging)

I seem to be unable to reply to comments at the moment, either due to my incompetence and inexperience or a problem with Blogger, but I wanted to thank so much everyone who responded to my last post.

I received a deluge of messages, mostly via e-mail or on facebook..(it's also ok to comment here) offering words of love and support. It felt like a huge step, not only to start the blog, but also write publicly about such personal and emotional issues. I had thought about posting about Lily again today and in some ways it would seem appropriate.

However, in my life, grief, memories and feelings of loss are inextricably woven into a larger tapestry, and the colour of the weft threads changes day by day. Sometimes the weaving is bright and shining, sometimes subtle and dulled. The woven cloth is still there on the loom but each new row is different.
And so today, the sun shone and Leo and I went......foraging


FORAGING

With the new school year come new routines and rhythms. Thursday is Leo's Mummy Day. With sister and brother at kindergarten and school all day, Leo gets some rare time alone with me, and woe betide anyone else who wants to have a conversation with me on that day which lasts longer than five minutes! We sometimes do special trips, often just enjoy home... but today it was warm, bright and some of my herb jars needed filling.

I had nettles on my mind as I dropped the older ones off this morning. Leo is a very rewarding foraging companion and I wanted to take advantage of what I call the second Spring of early autumn. Plants that have been cut down some time ago send out a last flush of fresh spring like growth, providing supplies to see me through the winter. Usually at this time of year a nettle will have run to seed and look very different

 but today didn't want the seeds..I will soon..only the soft leaves.

The energy in these leaves feels weaker than those fiery, thrusting, ferocious new shoots of the true spring, but as I wasn't very organised then, I am relying on these frailer autumn progeny to fill my jars for teas and oils and vinegars.

As always on a foraging expedition, there was a sense of excitement. Yet there was also a feeling of empowerment to be able to provide food and medicine for my family for free and I felt blessed to live in beautiful Devon which provides me with plentiful weeds!

Our first patch of nettles were still dewy, shyly fresh from their night under the moon. I picked these for tonight's dinner. Preserving wet plants by drying or storing in oil causes mould problems, but for nettle risotto they are fine.

Leo checked in that I had asked the nettle fairy permission (I had) but his gentle reminder made me pause to remember the times when I hadn't. I usually get stung, and the energy surrounding the harvesting feels clunky and awkward. Harvesting medicine is a chance for us to connect with the universal flow of energy which unites us all,(including nettles) and it is very humbling to honour the plants in this way. Today there were no stings

and we found several sunny dry patches of lovely leaves to process back at home.

My hair feels quite neglected most of the time and I have promised myself to give it some new autumn energy. Once I had put together some of our other pickings to make tea,

From right, clockwise, nettles, rose petals, plantain, comfrey

I found my extremely battered and beloved copy of Healing wise by Susun Weed http://www.susunweed.com/ and made nettle hair oil. My leaves were totally dry and, gathered just after the dew had dried, at optimum picking time. I gently snipped enough to fill and old tahini jar, and filled again with olive oil (could be almond) pushing them down under the oil with a wooden spoon to dislodge bubbles. Is is important for the plant material in any oil to be totally submerged or they will mould.

On a window sill for a moon cycle (and I should have started the oil  at new moon to take advantage of the waxing energies and forces of the moon) and I shall massage some into my scalp a couple of hours before I wash my hair and rinse with nettle lotion to finish.
I divided the remainder of my harvest in two and while half made dinner, lovely risotto, the other I dried for winter teas. How wonderful to open a jar of home gathered herbs in January, and how pale and wan a tea bag seems!