SIT! SIT! Good Girl. . .

    An interesting phenomenon seems to be surfacing. Many of us who are almost always putting our hands or minds or both to some task, are finding ourselves sitting still and staring into space, almost against our will, even though it's pleasant.  We might be sitting next to a pile of books we've been eager to read, and instead of picking one up, stare blithely at the nearby wall.  Or dinner is done and while we'd normally jump up and take care of the kitchen, now we let 15 minutes or a half hour slide by while we stare at our plate or out the window.  Then again, we may be zooming in our car between important destinations, and find ourselves irresistibly drawn to pull into a park area and just sit, staring into the middle distance, not really seeing what's before us. . .


   This has been happening to me, and I hear from friends and clients that this is happening to many of you, too.  Now for me, raised with the good old Protestant ethic stated so well in the aphorism (picture this embroidered on a piece of old linen), "Idle hands are the Devil's workshop,"  even while sitting smiling dopily into the middle distance, there is a perpetually naggy voice yammering at me to GET TO WORK!  What do I think I'm doing, just sitting there??? For Pete's sake, how can I continue to earn my place on the planet if I'm not producing??? Geez. When the mood, or whatever it is, finally passes, guilt sweeps in, and I find myself working double-time to make up for it.  And yet the next day, or even later that same day, I drop off into this pleasant la-la land again, just sitting, despite the presence of that scolding inner voice.  Sound familiar?



   Over the years I've had occasionally recognized when an odd phenomenon keeps popping up, at which time it eventually occurs to me to ask Guidance, "hey, what the heck is going on?"  This time they said that life on planet Earth is currently turbulent, chaotic.  To which I wittily replied, "No, duh!"  They are used to this from me, so kindly continued:


                           Those of you who know yourselves to be on a spiritual path
                            (for there are many who have yet to remember this truth), who
                            are sometimes called "Lightworkers,"  are allowing yourselves to be
                            used this way, for those times when you sit in quiet and just
                            BE, you act as the stillpoints in the center of the real and figurative        
                            tornadoes of energy currently being released. This is most needful,                               
                            as Earth continues her evolution, old systems collapse and new 
                            ones are imagined and created. Perhaps it's time to let go
                            of old thought patterns and habits that tell you that you have to earn 
                            your place on this beloved planet? Perhaps it's time to believe 
                            you are beloved, too, and therefore don't need to justify your 
                            existence with endless busy-ness?"


   I swear, if Guides smirked, they would have been smirking over those last two sentences.
Of course it's time to give up those self-defeating crazy-making ways.  As the old cliche goes, we are called human beings,  not human doings.  How better to catch our breath, get grounded, and notice the glory and wonder around us in the midst of the chaos?


   Recently I told my friend Linda that when I was pregnant with my daughter, my husband, son and I were visiting friends in Iowa when tornadoes blew through.  Everyone else sensibly went to the basement (my friend Marge's mother got under the ping-pong table) and stayed put, but I just couldn't, I had to be where I could watch.  And this was no small system;  by the next day, the National Guard was all over the place, trying to help folks deal with the material destruction.


  The really really wacky thing is, the same thing happened the next evening, and I responded the same way, to everyone's consternation.  
   While I felt powerfully guided to do this, and Guidance told me it would be fine, I do not recommend this behavior to anyone, especially someone pregnant.


   However, there is something thrilling and awe-ful and beyond my poor powers to describe, watching Mother Nature remind us that we are not boss, that we are incredibly powerful, but in our own domain, and that there are always energies larger than us at play.


   So, back to the present, maybe those "I can't seem to help myself;  I'm not motivated to do anything but just sit," times allow us to remember to be, and sit in wonder at the magnificent (while at times overwhelming) changes bringing us into a new way of Being.


   For my part, I'm reminding myself to surrender to those times.  To "Let it Be." (I can hear the Beatles accompanying me as I do it.)


   And if that annoying, cranky voice starts in again, pushing me to do, do, do, I'm going to smile sweetly and say, "I am sitting in the eye of a storm, so go away."  
   Let me know how it goes for you, okay, Fellow Stillpoint?
   

My Favorite Restaurant

   I just had a delicious brunch in what is, at this time of year, my favorite restaurant:  my front porch.  The service is generally relaxed and friendly, because that's usually how I feel when I get out there.  It's homey, and open, and surrounded by flowers, and full of comfortable furniture, so no matter how my day is going, once I'm out there, I generally feel relaxed and friendly.
   The setting is usually congenial, unless I time it when everybody decides it's time to mow, u weed wack, and blow leaves, or try out their new chain saws.  But for the most part, it's low key,  and I often have a CD playing softly through an open window, so the mood is peaceful.
   Now let me tell you about the brunch I just had:  I sauteed some green onions from my back garden, then added in some chanterelle mushrooms bought from The Mushroom Man at the nearby farmer's market, a treat that one waits all year to have, as they are quite seasonal.  Next in went some baby carrots and green beans, also from my back garden;  then some summer squash from a volunteer that planted itself on the side of my compost.  Next, some garlic and basil and shiso, also from out back, a little hungarian hotwax pepper from my next door neighbor's garden, a couple of chopped cherry tomatoes from my friend Sarah's, and a little pepper and himalayan salt. Finally I threw on top a gorgeous egg with an amazingly yellow yolk from my friend Laura's hens.  This accompanied by a slice of oatmeal toast, also from the farmers' market, slathered in maple honey, from the Maple Lady at the farmers' market, and a big mug of tea, flavored with chocolate mint from my front garden.
   What a feast!  A delight to the eye, an adventure to the nose, a thrill to the mouth, and with the exception of the tea, which is from India, all quite local.  How blessed is that!
   I feel endlessly blessed that I have this spot of Earth that I am allowed to steward, to love and cherish and learn from and plant and sow and tend, and from which I get to harvest miracles in all shapes and sizes and flavors and colors. And then I get to dance around in my kitchen and combine these gorgeous miracles in all sorts of ways, like the brunch I just fixed and consumed. 
   Even the preparation is such a joy.  The foods look so vibrant at this time of year, and getting to wander through one's yard (or one's neighbor's) to find just the right contents is a treasure hunt unlike any other.  It never ceases to fill me with awe that a tiny speck of a seed, in ground that I have dug and amended and watered, will grow into an entire tomato plant, or pepper plant, or lettuce.

. . .and the cutting or snipping usually adds aroma to the surroundings;  never more so than with the aromatics like basil or peppermint:

        Each moment in the garden, I am aware of being part of a whole, a gigantic whole composed of every living thing, and I get to play my part by nurturing another part and then choose it to nurture me in its turn.  The sense of flow is so strong for me at these times, of give and take.  How can I feel anything but gratitude?  People visiting my garden often say,"what a lot of work goes into this!" and I always feel a little frisson of surprise.  I can spend hours "tending" my garden and feel so completely tended in turn, that it somehow doesn't register as  work, at least not in the usual sense.  Even when it's heavy "work" like turning the compost, I feels so completely at home participating in the cycle of life that the pouring sweat and tired muscles simply don't register for me in the same way as, say, cleaning out the garage.      
   I find myself wondering if I can develop that kind of consciousness for tasks that, to my mind, currently seem less appealing, more something I have to talk  myself into? I imagine organizing the basement or my tax files or refinishing some outdoor furniture with that happy smile on my face. . .but I'm not there yet.

   One of the things I love best about gathering and preparing food for my favorite restaurant : the surprises that come up.  I notice things that are ripe unexpectedly (which makes up for the things that are taking forever to ripen) and instantly, different combinations are forming in my head for the next meal.  It's an endless adventure.  And of course, creatures of all sort surprise me:  sometimes a garden snake curled into the compost pile;  sometimes a spider who has erected a gorgeous filigree across two plants. . .these sisters and brothers often take me by surprise, and I am not always grateful at first meeting;  sometimes the surprise is too great, and I have to ground and remind myself of the wonder.  But at other times, the wonder is automatic, as in the case of my friend to the right.  Ahhh,  bliss.