Opening the Operating Manual for these Times

In a recent email, I mentioned that a great shift has already occurred as we entered 2012, and we don’t seem to have the new ‘operating manual’ for how to function in this dramatically accelerated times.

This morning, I realized that is not completely true…

In the midst of tidying the kitchen, I suddenly became aware that the ‘manual’ is encoded, in stunning completeness, within our bodies. We have just forgotten how to ‘read’ this wisdom, how to interpret the messages our body is giving us through every pulse and breath.

It was such a simple insight, yet the implications are profound. How to learn this forgotten language, or rather, how to remember it?

I accepted the invitation — for it seemed personal to me as much as to the larger world, and went into the livingroom to dance.

Thus began a new meeting with my body. My brief time was a quiet courting of ecstasy. My movements, sounds and silence full of imagery and flowing energy, a body-meditation that is part of a much longer conversation.

My desire is to turn up for these meetings often. To listen, to turn the ear of my heart towards the living wisdom of my body, just as I learned to do with beautiful flowers. What a long, slow pathway it has been for me to enter the closest space, the inner sanctuary of my body, with as much love as I feel for my outer garden.

I heard echoes of Mary Oliver’s poem, “You do not have to be good… you only have to let the soft animal of your body love what it loves.”

That is the sacred conversation that, for me, is opening my operating manual for these times.

Holding the Tension of Opposites

Richard Tarnas, author of Cosmos and Psyche: Intimations of a New World View, writes about his upcoming workshop, Understanding our Moment in History, to be held at the Pacifica Institute in Santa Barbara in March.

“Our time is pervaded by a great paradox. On the one hand, we see signs of an unprecedented level of engaged global awareness, moral sensitivity to the human and non-human community, psychological self-awareness, and spiritually informed philosophical pluralism. On the other hand, we confront the most critical, and in some respects catastrophic, state of the Earth in human history. Both these conditions have emerged directly from the modern age, whose light and shadow consequences now affect every part of the planet.

We seem to be living at the end of an era. The past and the future are converging in in our time with extraordinary force. Old structures are cracking, the moment of creative chaos is upon us, and the drama of our age has become a great question: What new principles, what new structures — social, political, economic, ecological, psychological, spiritual — will emerge to shape our future? So much is at stake. We are facing a threshold of fundamental collective transformation that bears a striking resemblance to what takes place on the individual level in initiatory rites of passage, in near-death experiences, in spiritual crises, and in critical stages of what Jung called the individuation process. Can we find a place of equilibrium, an eye in the storm, form which we can engage this time of intense polarization and radical change? And in such an era of transition, what is the role of “heroic” communities which carry principles and perspectives that run counter to the mainstream modern world view?”

This is the large view, brilliantly articulated. In my own life and in my observation of others close to me, I see paradox at work everywhere, grinding down the old structures and making space for new emergence. Many people are finding this time very intense.

A couple of stories to illustrate the intensity…

On New Year’s Day, I was preparing to offer my eighty-year-old guest, a dear friend, wise-woman and healer, a session with my new sound-work, Love Songs — Tuning the Body-Soul. This practice has evolved over many years and was particularly shaped after the recent renovations here at Grey Heron. Two months of daily meditations at the end of last year gave me the framework for the new practice, and Dorothy’s visit, on the morning of the new year, seemed a perfect time to launch the new venture.

Tidying my desk in preparation, I opened a piece of mail only to discover that I’d been caught, on camera, rolling through a red light. The fine was a whopping $325!

Here was the paradox — being reminded of ‘stopping’ just when I am about to make a great leap forward! In that moment, I was intensely aware that I could not collapse into a self-pity drama nor could I ignore this sign and fly off into some spiritual fantasy. I had to hold both realities, not just my highest aspiration. What a powerful message at the start of 2012!

Another story… While my friend was recently touring the Mayan temples, she stumbled and sprained her ankle. Visiting this sacred site was a high-point in her life, for she has a deep understanding of sacred geometry and divine architecture. Again the paradox, the agony and the ecstasy, right in the same moment. Shocked but also grasping the significance of the event, she grounded herself and focused her breath, then, reaching out to touch the ground with one hand, she ran the energy from this highly charged landscape through her body. Appreciative that she had just been shown this technique, her ankle healed much more rapidly than expected.

Marion Woodman talks about the necessity to develop our ability to hold the tension of opposites. As we hold both the darkness and the light within the fiery container of our personal lives, something new is born, a gift of Life for all.

Childbirth is a perfect example of a transformative paradox. Giving birth is painful, particularly in the final stages yet we hold steady through the labor, knowing a miracle is about to occur. We bear the agony and we delightedly anticipate the baby’s imminent appearance.

I’m also aware that we rarely give birth in isolation. Neither should we expect ourselves to always hold the tension of opposites alone. More than ever, it seems vital to seek the people and places where we are truly met and nourished. We should cultivate opportunities to be lovingly witnessed. At the same time, we need to be cautious about entertaining judgements, our own or those of others, that would compromise the birth process, for none of us can see the baby making its way into the light. We are all being worked in the fiery crucible of transformation.

May we hold steady, in the quiet moments of our aloneness and when we are together.

May we breathe through the challenging times, witnessing and encouraging each other to keep moving.

May we not collapse under the pain and stress but hold our hearts open, staying focused on what is birthing through each of us.

May we have the grace to remember that this is what we came to do, and not shy away from glory born through times of great darkness.

May we truly welcome each birth, our own and others, celebrating and protecting the new life as it emerges everywhere.

Three Timely Retrograde Questions

Recently I sent out an email invitation to the Winter Solstice event here at Grey Heron (Wednesday, December 21st). Along with the invitation, I included three questions, ones I’d received in meditation, to help us consciously focus our preparations for this pivotal time.

1.  What have I continuously postponed, shied away from, started and dropped, faltered over and over again due to fear or denial? What themes keep reappearing in my dreams that just won’t leave me alone?

2.  What is the marvelous Invitation, lovingly and persistently issued from my soul, within this Call?

3.  What do I need to do now, in this month approaching Solstice and the beginning of 2012, to be fully present to this Call?

After the meditation, I pulled a Tarot card from the Thoth deck by Alistair Crowley (a recent gift that I’m really enjoying) to view the the nature of this preparatory time before the Solstice and the energies associated with the three questions.

Princess of Swords

The Princess of Swords stands on a precipice, her left hand touching a bare altar behind her, her right hand holding a sword pointed downwards, perhaps serving as a lightning rod to whatever is seeking to manifest in the air around her.

It appears to be a chaotic time in the heavens. Things are swirling in the atmosphere yet even while posed precariously on the precipice, she appears steadfast, purposeful, anchored.

Looking at the card, I speculated whether the world around her was shattering like glass and making way for a new dawn. In the Tarot, swords represent the mental realm. Is the sun near the base of the picture near the base of the image rising or setting? It is not clear.

Whatever is happening in this swirling chaos, she’s right on the cusp of what’s going on.

Certainly this is a powerful and poignant picture of these times. As we approach the darkest day of the year and begin the turn into the long-awaited year, 2012, our entire world as we know it is on shaky ground. The Princess of Swords reminds us to keep one hand on the sacred altar while the other wisely wields the sword of discrimination.

Shortly after this, I found unexpected confirmation from an astrology blog by Dipali Desai. I had forgotten Mercury is going retrograde during this time. Desai’s reading of the celestial energies underscored the big questions I posed earlier.

“Here we are nearing the end of the year 2011, a perfect time to review the previous ten months and all that it contained before we start a new year. Mercury shifts into Retrograde phase on November 24th, 2011. Mercury’s got the tunes playing “re-vamp, re-vise, re-do, re-cycle, re-connect.”  This Mercury retrograde is re-shifting things between two potent Eclipses: a  Solar Eclipse (symbolizing a new chapter) on Nov. 25th and Lunar Eclipse on Dec. 10th (symbolizing an ending of a chapter).

“Current Mercury Retrograde in Sagittarius means Re-Envisioning the Bigger Picture of Your Life.  Key themes surround Sagittarius: expansion, integration, aspiration, vision quest, higher mind, belief systems, philosophy…”

Through her astrological lens, Desai says, “At this time, we get an opportunity to reflect on our ‘quest’:  As a Seeker in life what are you seeking? Is it meaningful? Does it help you to broaden your perspective? Are you envisioning the bigger picture?”

More questions, good ones.

Timely ones. Important ones…

and sometimes, the best gift we can receive is the perfect question at just the right moment!

The process of creating the New Year 2012 Essence

This year’s essence is elegantly simple. Three single essences — Forsythia (pictured on the left) Oregon Grape, and Aster, and two combination essences, Annual Trio and Embracing Destiny’s Joy make up the New Year 2012 essence.

It is a very dynamic essence affirming a strong leap forward and the sense that ‘anything is possible’ in these times. Sounds like spring to me! My heart always leaps when forsythia, one of the first spring-blooming shrubs, shouts its extravagant hello.

As a flower essence, Aster encourages every level of movement — inwardly as spiralling kundalini life-energy, mentally through active imagination, and physically through exercise and ecstatic dance.

When I tested for the combination, I felt quite uncertain about the formula. It seemed to be echoing the same theme over and over again. Not only were Aster and Forsythia pushing for change and propelling movement, the Annual Trio combination ‘helps us make great leaps forward into the unknown.’

Was the message for 2012 actually this simple and clear?

Every year, I’ve seen how the Annual essences support the way we can best move with the changing universal forces. They tend not to predict what will happen. Instead, they offer support for Nature’s way of moving with grace and ease through times of transition. They help us move through chaos and uncertainty, to take advantage of the opportunity at hand and to allow a blossoming expansion.

With this strong encouragement from Nature to MOVE, we are definitely being encouraged to make a great leap this year, individually and collectively.

Here’s the definition for the essence:  (A visual meditation of this definition is on a slideshow on my youtube channel: ravenessences1.)

“New Year 2012 is an unprecedented time in the history of humanity and our planet, a pivotal moment of prophetic fulfillment. The Mayan calendar indicates that we are at the cusp of a new age where everything is in flux. As the Earth moves into the intensity of renewing Herself, we human beings are called to do the same.

“Our focus on money and currency-exchange of every kind is being challenged. We are not buffered as before. Self-worth based on material wealth is being stripped away. As collective illusions disintegrate, we find ourselves exposed, raw and sensitive to the shifting currents of Life as never before.

“This is a time of great opportunity — a time to open to the spirit of Creation. A time to let ourselves be held and guided, even as we are broken open. It is not a time to act like children, to pretend that we are helpful and do not understand. Greatness lives within us — swollen, ripe and ready. This is our primary reference now, the sweet intensity of Life, pressing to be born. Shed the old with graceful course. Step into your new Life, moment by moment, on a wave of deepest pleasure.

A prayer for these times: Our wings wide-spread, moist soil beneath our feet, red hearth-fire in our breast, we make the great leap forward — Joyous Shapers in the Dance.”

Intuiting a single image for 2012

I frequently use Deborah Koff-Chapin’s wonderful Soul Cards for divination with my clients on retreat. Finding them evocative and very richly layered in meaning, I chose one card for further insights into 2012 after making the essence.

It appears to me as an image of celestial greeting. Something gentle, like incense, connects the smiling sphere in the sky with the open-armed human being.

Is it a release or surrender on the part of the human, or a form of blessing from above? If so, it does not penetrate the person’s head as laser light-energy but more like a tickle in the belly.

In this mutually open rapport, there is clearly a lot of joy. You may want to meditate on this image and see what it brings up for you relative to your own experience as you enter 2012.

Using the I Ching for insights, prior to creating the essence

Knowing 2012 has been anticipated by so many people and is full of speculation from terrifying apocalpyse to the birth of a new age, I took particular care to center myself before creating this essence. I also invited Fiona Heard, a healer who spends much of her time in India, to participate in the creation process. Before she arrived, I consulted the I Ching for a glimpse into 2012.

Using Stephen Karcher’s Total I Ching for insights on 2012 and the essence, these are some of the phrases that indicated we were into a time of radical change.

Skinning/Revolution begins the process of stripping away the old, snake shedding skin, we are moving into a liminal state (like a chrysalis) where we go into ‘solution’ — a form of letting go or dissolving.

(Embracing Destiny’s Joy actually includes a snakeskin in the formula!)

The I Ching then shifted: The world is renewing itself. Move into the dance. This is your time. You can change the world. Don’t be shy — be a hero!

(Sounds like Forsythia and Aster to me…)

Settling finally with a very powerfully affirming message: Great Invigorating/Strength.

New power. A great idea. The spark of yang born at the center of yin. A new cycle is beginning. Disentangle yourself from the past; focus strength through a central creative idea.

Putting it all together…

If I had not consulted the I Ching and received such a clear strong message indicating the radical nature of this time and the importance of moving, NOW, I might have doubted the essence formula. Sharing my thoughts with Fiona, she completely agreed from the perspective of her own meditations. We did a ritual with the newly created essence, to seal the energies and fully ‘land’ the essence.

This final image of a dancing Yin Yang symbol, magically carved in a barley field in England, reminds us that everything, all of creation, is dancing with us.

We are not alone. The earth and all her creatures, including human beings, are making the Great Leap together!

How joyous is that!

If you would like to purchase the New Year 2012 ($14.50) contact me, Andrea Mathieson, at: info@ravenessences.com or by phone: 905-832-8245.

What is built when we work together…

When I saw a picture of the Rupert House for sale on a bulletin board, my mother, always able to spot an affair of the heart, realized I was swept away. “Well dear,” she said, “there are many ways to fall in love…” Meanwhile my pragmatic father was more cautious. “Watch out,” he advised. “Old houses can be real money pits!”

Grey Heron before it was painted grey...

Naïve about the challenges of home-ownership yet thoroughly in love with the house and its setting, I heard their words and still went ahead.

That was fifteen years ago, and looking back, both parents were right.

Tending and restoring the old house has been expensive, but it has also been a labor of love.

The heating costs of a 160-year-old house could cripple any sensible budget. Crumbling plaster and lath walls over the layered brick exterior hardly counted for insulation. The window panes, with their bubbles of antique glass, were more decorative than functional. For air conditioning, I relied on the shade of several large trees, sometimes escaping to a tent in my back yard on very hot days.

Last year I decided it was time to do some major renovations, to overhaul the kitchen and add a bathroom on the main floor. I wasn’t sure who to trust to tackle such an unpredictable job. While every renovation inevitably yields surprises, I knew a heritage house could be a real can of worms!

Marek doing what he loves best...

I asked friends for references, then called Marek Szpunar, a contractor who started his career rather late in life. Honest and hard-working, Marek views his work as a vocation, not just a job. He takes an old-world pride in his craftsmanship.

We began the demolition, almost half of the main floor of the house. While I forget how many dumpsters came and went, each load revealed more of the hidden story of the house. Hand-made square nails. Beautiful rough-hewn beams, some still covered in bark. Ancient cloth-covered wires that made my electrician cringe, and several dried-up mice were gradually exposed.

Most people dread renovations and I wasn’t sure what to expect. However, despite the chaos, dust and noise, the whole process was ultimately quite joyful.

Looking back, I don’t think my experience was just a matter of luck. It was my son, Dmitri, the tile-setter on the team, who commented about the atmosphere on the job. “Nobody treats the trades-people like you do, Mom,” he said. “Lots of people don’t even give us a drink of water.”

Maybe I was naïve, but making the workers feel welcomed and appreciated seemed really important. If they treated without respect, I knew our relationship would suffer, and so would the work. My appreciation was genuine — I needed their muscle and expertise!

As the project developed, the job-site felt more like a community barn-building project than a home-owner’s headache.

We greeted each other in the mornings, usually over coffee. Sometimes they brought me a fresh cup and most afternoons I made a fresh pot for them.  I kept cases of soda and juice cool and handy and when I could manage, I made simple lunches. “It’s grilled cheese sandwiches again, guys!” I’d call, cutting through the laughter of Marek’s young apprentices who constantly joked with each other while they worked.

As plaster dust gave way to finishing details, we developed an affection and mutual respect for each other. Marek was always gracious when I changed my mind about various details, some more major than others. Meanwhile, I helped as a gopher, researching sources and picking up supplies. All of us were proud of the beauty we were creating and the history that was being resotred.

The project was so successful that I did another round of renovations this year! This time, I was prepared for a long, dirty but creative process, from the dustiest demolitions to the last touch of paint by the front doorknob.

Everything is finished now and I find myself strangely exhilarated rather than exhausted. In the absence of the contractors, an echo of laughter lingers along with the memory of many delightful moments.

Isn’t this how hard work should be — joyful and generative? With a strong protestant work ethic, my father taught us to appreciate work-projects as a way to strengthen family ties and build community. Whether we make a delicious meal together, build a lovely garden, or dive into a home-renovation, creating beauty generates a sense of personal and collective pride.

In the midst of so much gloom and uncertainty, I’m sure these simple ways of working together, rather than just paying for services rendered, can bring real pleasure into our lives.

P.S. If you’d like to contact Marek, I’ll pass his phone number along to you, but only if you promise to treat him as well as he deserves!

(for publication in the Vaughan Citizen)

The Alchemy of Grief

Grief touched me, cracking my heart open, a number of times this summer. While most of the encounters were somewhat removed from my immediate experience, the one that shocked me to my core was the death of a teenage boy I’d known since his birth. Jonathan’s mother, Jane, was in shock when she called to tell me he had just died in a tragic car accident.

This experience, and the other more public expressions of grief such as Jack Layton’s passing and the 9/11 anniversary, has made me consider loss in new ways.

Grief is perhaps the most intense and powerful emotion. It can shatter our lives and the sense of self we’ve carefully constructed. It can also be an opportunity to explore our ‘one wild and precious life’ and to open to a completely different reality. But not right away.

Abigail Carter lost her husband, Arron, in 9/11. Ten years later, she published a book called the Alchemy of Loss, describing how her life actually became better through this experience. She calls grief an unexpected gift, one that unmasks an entirely new universe of possibility. Over time, she found new strengths in herself as a mother, a writer, and a teacher.

Alchemy is an interesting word to associate with grief and loss. In medieval times, alchemy was the art of turning lead into gold. The alchemists had both a literal intention to alter metals and they also saw their work as a metaphor for the inner process of changing consciousness.

I saw some of this alchemy at work at Jonathan’s funeral as his teammates, beautiful lanky young men in bright-colored soccer uniforms, stood inside the chapel, obviously broken-hearted.

When Jane spontaneously rose to speak after the eulogies, I held my breath in anticipation. In that moment, she decided to ignore the minister’s gentle recommendation to grieve quietly from her pew. Instead, she chose to speak from her heart to the packed audience.

Everyone leaned forward to receive Jane’s words.

“I have several things to ask of you, “ she said, her voice strong and clear. “When you see me out in public, please do not cross the street, pretending you didn’t see me. We are all grieving and sometimes we avoid each other because we are afraid of saying the wrong thing. I am not afraid of your feelings. Please don’t be afraid of my tears.”

I gasped at the courage it took for Jane to invite such open-hearted intimacy.

She continued, “Also, please keep saying my son’s name aloud. We tend to stop talking about the person we loved when they’re gone, but I still need to hear his name.”

I’m learning that there really is no perfect way to grieve. It simply hurts, terribly, and often for a very long time.

The first phase of grieving is not about moving on or being strong. It is simply about being broken open. When we can allow ourselves to surrender fully into the grief, we descend into dark realms that we cannot control.

In some ways, this is very healthy. Our bodies serve as wise guides during this time. They know when to rest and when to weep. Our minds may have other agendas but when exhaustion, tears, or waves of anger sweep through us, they bring a swift and cleansing release.

If we try to take a shortcut through grief’s darkest emotions, we often prolong the process. Then the powerful transforming energy goes underground and lingers in the body like a slow poison.

Grief reveals just how profoundly we are connected to each other. The beautiful bond that unites us is the same one that breaks our hearts. Sometimes we do not acknowledge the depth of this connection until loss drops us, humbled, to our knees.

It is not always the death of another human being that opens our hearts. When my dog died many years ago, I found myself inexplicably consumed with grief. Though I was very sad about losing my pet, I realized many of my tears were unshed from past losses.

Each new grief opens the well, fresh and raw. Through these experiences we discover the depth of our heart’s capacity to feel, to love, and also to gracefully let go.

I appreciated what Jane was asking for, in the most acute and public phase of her grieving. She spoke of what we all need but rarely request — the need to be met with compassion, not unsolicited advice. The need for others to embrace and tolerate their own pain. Her yearning for simple expressions of caring — a touch, kindly silence, thoughtful actions. A friend’s ability to sit with grief goes a long way.

Grief takes us completely out of the ‘normal’ forcing us to be still for a time, like frozen water in the winter. Gradually an imperceptible movement stirs again, and sorrow begins to melt into gratitude for the life that does remain.

The American poet, Mary Oliver, asks the question that lies waiting on the far side of the grieving process. “Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?”

Finally, when grief has had its way with us and we are ready to answer this, our lives will never be the same.

My New Office – Defining the Heart(h) of my Work

A loveseat now rests under the wall where all the essences used to live... an invitation to relax into deep conversation, or simply snuggle up with a book!

In renovating my office, I realized I was circling around and re-approaching the very core of my work.

This space, the original parlour in the heritage house, is where I spend most of my days… on the phone with clients, writing, planning and organizing events, all the while gazing out into my beautiful wild garden.

My biggest and most challenging shift was to allow the flower essences to move to their new space, the room off the kitchen, where they are now organized in a very beautiful, efficient area. Their absence left a big, empty room and a huge sense of mystery.

What was my office becoming? And perhaps more important, who was I becoming, as a practitioner and facilitator?

A lovely little vase, flowers, Etruscan snake handle, and the same shade as the hearth. (Courtesy of HomeSense!)

I tried to let the unknown live, suspended, for most of the summer. Meanwhile, the workmen demolished the old plaster-lath walls, sprayed in foam insulation and erected new walls.

Finally, one day I needed to make a decision about the colors. I knew this would begin to define the feeling-tone in the room. Feeling uncertain about my own metamorphosis, I called Diane Patterson, my color priestess-wizard, to help me find the resonant shades.

The decisions came very quickly…

Within minutes, I put my finger on the Farrow & Ball color called India Yellow. Hot, spicy curry yellow. And very different from anything else in the house. A deep, rich yellow-gold that Diane told me was a very old color.

An exquisite etching from a Prague artist, gifted to me by my sister who said, "Andrea, this simply had to be with you." Note the ravens at her breast...

Over the hearth, I chose a rich burgundy red, thinking this would be the perfect backdrop for the plaster frieze that hung there ever since I bought Grey Heron. (Eventually the frieze moved upstairs to the meditation room, making room for a new image over the hearth.)

The beautiful wainscoting, an original feature of the room, was the same lovely lime-white used throughout the hallway and kitchen.

As the men painted the room, I began choosing the art for the space. And this was where I realized that each image was articulating some aspect of my emerging soul.

Looking around the room late in the evening after it was all done, I saw reflected everywhere who I was becoming. I also had a sense of future conversations, already swirling in the space like a gradually thickening atmosphere, full of possibility, warmth, and deep, rich honesty.

One of two 'naked women with wings' converse above the new loveseat, watercolors by Lori Dell, an extraordinary Toronto artist.

Eros… this is perhaps the simplest word for what is emerging in my office. The very primal pulse of Life itself. And in my personal story, the ongoing marriage of body and spirit.

King City artist, and good friend, Mary Bromley's art captures the erotic essence of flowers in a way that leaves me speechless!

From Lori Dell’s full-bodied naked winged women to Mary Bromley’s powerfully intimate flower portrait over the hearth, the room now pulses with sensuous anticipation. A beautiful space for me to drop into my deepest connection with the pulse of life, and for others, to be welcomed with full-blooded warmth.

The invitation is now out…  Please join me in this wonderful room, for a cup of tea and a conversation that could lead almost anywhere.

Pain — a Problem or an Invitation to Pleasure

 (for publication in the Vaughan Citizen, September 2011

While I was swimming this morning at my fitness center, I found myself thinking about pain. How utterly compelling it is. How it grabs our attention. How it forces us to set everything else aside and be fully present in the moment, whether we want to or not.

In that sense, pain calls us home to our bodies.

The challenge is that most of us are not comfortable being at home in our own skin. Therefore, when we are confronted with pain, we tend to push it away or numb ourselves so that we can get on with our lives, and carry on as usual.

But what if the body’s painful call is inviting us into something completely different, something even more wholesome and pleasurable than what we are currently doing.

Several years ago my dog died. He was a marvelous companion and I still miss him. When I would sit too long at my desk, Galen would get up from his couch near me, come over to me and abruptly nudge my elbow. “Time for a walk,” he was saying, pointedly. “You’ve been doing too much thinking. It’s time for a change.”

Over time, I realized my dog was more in touch with my body than I was, for as soon as we began walking in the ravine, my head would clear, the tensions in body would relax and the ideas I’d been struggling with would clarify and flow again.

Modern medicine has many advantages but it can also make us passive. We tend to go to experts to help us get rid of pain, to fix our bodies like broken machines. Meanwhile, we have forgotten how to interpret pain’s very personal messages and to make life-changes based upon our own intuitive body-wisdom.

Now, some arthritic twinges are grabbing my attention. Naturally, I’d like to be free from the sharp heat in my joints but I am also curious about what is happening.

Instead of just trying to get rid of the joint-pain, which I am addressing with various holistic approaches, I began wondering about what this current pain is trying to say. If pain has a voice, assuming the body is wise and kindly, what is its message to me through these relatively minor aggravations?

Even asking this question opens up a completely different possibility.

I remembered my childhood, how living just meters from a large lake on Vancouver Island forced us to learn to be good swimmers at a very early age. This experience rooted a deep love for swimming in me. Now, every time I dive into the water, I still feel a tremor of pleasure, a quiet thrill of connection with my body and the elements.

I don’t think it is a coincidence that swimming is also one of the best medicines for my achy joints. Perhaps my current aches and pains are a call to remember what my body loves. And when I forget what I love, the pain returns, like my old dog, to remind me. “Get out of your head. Remember what you love to do.”

Not a terrible arrangement, if I can take pain’s call as an invitation to come back to my body and the pleasure of living.

Living Room Renovations proceed…

Framing in the old fireplace, a heritage feature of what was probably the original summer kitchen.

A view of the drywalled ceiling with one of three metal 'ties' holding the brick walls stable.

Strapping the 17-foot ceiling in preparation for spray-foam insulation.

 A massive amount of work was done last week in the livingroom. Strapping the entire room, a full day of spray-foam insulation, then the mammoth job of starting the drywall installation.

Justin and Will drywalling the ceiling after the sprayfoam, supervised by Marek. Thank goodness for light-weight gyprock!

Marek sizing up the tasks for the day. Note the new gas fire insert...

A view into the main house from the livingroom - creative chaos living alongside semi-order!

Marek, my contractor, hamming it up with Will on the scaffold as they frame in the unique brick arch over the livingroom entry. 

New windows and a breath of fresh air

Preparing to place the new window, with two adjacent panels that open to allow cross ventilation.

A rare view into the double-layered, hand-made brick construction of the livingroom walls.

Removing the old window overlooking the garden.

One of the important features in the livingroom renovation was better air quality and air-flow. To facilitate this, we removed all the windows, including a huge panel overlooking the garden and eight smaller windows above the garage.

The new windows can open now, allowing an east-west cross-flow of air through the room, which everyone will appreciate on hot summer days!

The window transformation occurred, miraculous to me, in just one day — a story deserving its own blog!

Suction cups used to lift and gently remove the window intact.

A grim discovery of fire-damage, revealed when the support for the eight small windows above the garage was exposed.

Framing in the opening for the new windows overlooking the garden.

The old window, too big for the bin.