unveiling the genuine heart of longing

The last hours of 2009 fold into each other as I sit in my small, warm home. The fire has emitted so much heat that I have to prop open a window. The bath took place as the light from the day settled into darkness. I spent much of this final day of the first decade of a new millenium in my PJ's allowing my body to recuperate from a cold I got during Christmas. I ventured out early in the afternoon to take a walk in the woods with my canine friend, Wily -- it felt wrong to finish the year without the forest, without fresh air and movement. The morning was spent doing paperwork to satisfy New Hampshire state requirements for shelter residents. All in all, not a bad balance for a day.

An interesting process has been unfolding in my psyche. My belief system once gravitated towards the quelling of longing. The ultimate basis for this practice was protective in nature; indeed, each of us emerges into this world completely needy and wholly dependent on others to satisfy our physiological and social needs ("food, touch, and movement" as one of my teachers repeats). When our aches and callings are thwarted we learn to shut down or act out as adaptive coping mechanisms -- our little systems go into disassociation with a primal recognition that without 'other' we will perish.

Never have my needs for food, touch, nor movement gone away. As adults these basic tenets of life are translated into the need for genuine human contact, nurturance, and emotion. For many years I fostered my belief that to embody such neediness was a setup for pain and disappointment. In Buddhist literature I caught wind of similar messages around non-attachment. In self-psychology cheerleading I heard the message: "Happiness is not having what you want but wanting what you have." This blended nicely with my Scottish/Canadian/Presbyterian sensibilities of don't be greedy, be grateful.

Indeed, my early-life coping strategy to disassociate and numb myself to my own yearnings got more sophisticated but the strategy was serving the same purpose: essentially, don't long, don't yearn -- this will only invite pain. It got so that I looked to others to discover what I should be wanting and reaching for, as though the communication link to my own innate and unique instrument no longer resonated or harmonized with life moving in and around me. Perhaps I just didn't trust myself anymore to tell me what I wanted. Perhaps this helps me understand how lost I can feel at times with respect to finding a path through life with relationships, geography, and professional journey. So often I have to try something before I realize it simply doesn't "fit" and it makes life a long and sometimes frustrating exercise in the "process of elimination" (as an aside, I just found the phrase 'process of elimination' a hilarious euphemism for pooping). But I digress.

So, my point you ask.... my point is that this final day of 2009 seems like as fine a day as any other to unveil my genuine heart of longing. Being willing to feel my ache takes immense courage because there is a rawness combined with vulnerability. In aching and longing I enter into a dance with the universe in which the awakening feels treacherous and the outcome unknown. As I sat this morning with meditation I heard a young and innocent voice within me speak: "I will give up chocolate if I could simply have another chance to love deeply." I heard this voice clearly because she was unashamed, she was fierce. I began to laugh uncontrollably at the clarity and gumption and unabashed life force in this young Martha offering a deal -- offering to give up her favorite treat in exchange for something more profound, more stirring for her soul.

I know I yearn for a family. I am not focusing on the composition of that family, I only know with conviction and courage that I want to love deeply and get tangled up with a group of people, a partner, a child, a community. I am not covered in Teflon. My veils to yearning only numb me to my basic nature and need to belong, to nurture, to be nurtured. I similarly long for a farm, open spaces, a wild natural world around me to which I can tend. It is easier to recognize my yearning for the natural world because it feels as though it is safer and that I can realize this dream with my own hands. In the past I have attempted to similarly manifest relationships and it has ended badly. In the end, however, I am learning that it is a mistake to focus my attention on the object of my yearning. Rather, the aliveness and rawness lies in the experience of opening to ache in and of itself. It requires me to stay connected to my heart, my senses, the world around me, the depth of soul within me. With genuine longing there is no ground to stand on and nothing to hold.

"The deepest nature of everything is longing...Beneath even the most hardened surfaces longing waits. Great music or poetry will always reach us because our longing loves to be echoed. Neither can we immunize ourselves against love; it knows in spite of us exactly how to whisper our longing awake. It is as if, under the clay of your presence, streams of living water flow."

John O'Donohue, "Eternal Echoes"

Perhaps as you look at a year awaiting your presence you too will consider not so much your willingness to resolve and forsake but how you can deepen into beingness, opening your system to respond more harmoniously to life. If accessing your own ache feels safe, take a hint from me and reach deeper.

week 4, year 1

As 2009 comes to a close, I enter my 4th week working at North Country Shelter in Jefferson, NH. Many have asked, unsurprisingly, how my new job is going. I'm trying to avoid a pat answer or a packaged response. My experience shifts through each day and with each new day, more arises. Let me see if I can cover the good, the bad, the ugly, and the breathtaking...

the kids! some days I want to throttle them, other days I am inspired to new levels of gratitude and awe. They can pack with each other like mean dogs at times (and I generally love dogs) against any adult's attempt to connect or make sense of their craziness. They can also open and trust and put themselves so bravely into my/our care, despite how many times they have been let down and dropped. Their histories are generally heartbreaking and, for many of them, their future prospects are meek. I am accustomed to working with mostly middle to high-income families and the kids I've counseled have had many resources thrown at them. These kids have had some very tough breaks, made some not-so-wise choices, and now are looking at the major task of turning their ship around or heading into the adult legal system. I don't get to work with the parents anymore. I'm not sure it would matter -- these kids have been labeled, the parents for the most part aren't curious about how their parenting planted the seeds for the child's behaviors.

They think I'm weird. Amazingly they put up with me and my continuous requests to make eye contact with me and slow down, "take a breath." They give me space to do my thing and I put up with the ridicule they dish out. I think we're getting along just fine.

The staff. They might think I'm weird too. I sometimes get a bit bossy with my insistence that people stop speaking from the ubiquitous "we" or from the depersonalized "you" and use the always direct and potent "I" when making statements (preferably with fewer than 10 words!). They've begun to lift their eyes up from the floor during meetings and similarly made some eye contact with another human being in the room. I gotta say, the kids are more consistent -- must be something about teaching old dogs new tricks. I love how I see the hearts of my co-workers so clearly, so profoundly. The job is hard, there are few positive reinforcements, there are many thankless moments, thanksless days. And still, most of them show up the next day smiling and working hard for the kids.

The paperwork! F___ Me! I bum myself out with the possibility that it'll be the paperwork that kills me. I can't seem to get ahead. I don't get enough time supporting the staff or working with the kids. Most of my days are spent at my computer. My butt is getting flatter and wider, my skin more pasty.

The commute.... thank God for metal studded tires -- hello! it really snows here in New England. I love it even though I get a bit tensed up coming home in the dark and wind and white, wondering if the person behind me has also discovered the magic of studded tires as they ride my butt towards the next curve in the highway.

As I spent time with family and friends over the last few days (it was Christmas afterall), I did an inventory of my new working experience. Sometimes it feels like this direction makes no logical sense -- I make half of my wages in Colorado, I work more, I am inside almost all the time, I get insulted, disrespected, and ridiculed, etc... But there continues to be an inner knowing about where I am, that everything is just as it needs to be even when I can't see the intelligence of the Universe at play. Some mornings I feel lost. Then I remember to stop judging my experience and simply accept what is and say 'thank you.'

The circumstances of my counseling work at NCS are such that there is little opportunity for me to be a therapist in the usual way I think of myself as one; I don't get to employ tools and tricks from my tickle trunk of skills (Canadian reference to Mr. Dress Up, fyi). I am continuing to relinquish my habitual way of trying to be helpful. I never know if or when I will get to connect with a resident at the shelter, maybe once and never again. At first I was putting an inordinate amount of stress on myself to try and be perfect and efficient with this limitation, stress being the key word -- I was setting myself up for burnout and discouragement -- dis-courage-ment, less heart, less bravery, de-coeur-ager ("courage" coming from the French word for "heart"). With this self-created stress I was going more into my head, more emphasis on diagnosis and assessment and intervention than simply showing up in this moment with only my courage. These folks don't need a therapist, maybe they just want connection during this confusing, chaotic, and crazy time.

From John O'Donohue's "Eternal Echoes":

We need a new psychology to encourage us and liberate us to become full participants in our lives, one that will replace self-watch with self-awakening. We need a rebirth of the self as the sacred temple of mystery and possibility, this demands a new language which is poetic, mystical, and impervious to the radiation of psychologese. We need to rediscover the wise graciousness of spontaneity. The absence of spontaneity unleashes us negatively on ourselves. (p.235)

The photos for this entry -- the first shot is the sunset from my office window as the day wraps up in northern New Hampshire. The beautiful brunette is my office mate, Lynne; she's the Family Service Worker at NCS and, for 16 years, she's trained and supported every staff member and loved every kid. A couple of other shots were taken while I visited my mom and sister over the holiday weekend in Ontario. I particularly liked the red and green buoys which popped up from the water and caught hold of my sense of sight during our Christmas day stroll by the river. This last photo I took driving east on Hwy. 401 from Peterborough towards Montreal on Sunday morning as the sun was rising and shining through the fog and the trees. I like light shining through fog and trees.

be well, my love to you

martha

landing on my feet

Last night I dreamed -- blessed illusion --

that I had a beehive here

in my heart

and that

the golden bees were making

white combs and sweet honey

from my old failures.

- Antonio Machado

(translated by Robert Bly)

My apologies for the lapse in writing. If it's any consolation, even when my writing is not so public, there are private pages in journals which I pour over each morning. For the past couple of weeks I've been acclimating to my new surroundings and my new employment - at times I've felt too at odds with myself to package something for my community of friends and family to view.

In my last entry I wrote about the ache that all this moving and butterflying about was creating in my chest and how I was heartbroken by all the 'goodbyes' that come with change. Change is exciting for my system; I feel alive with the sense of possibility and adventure. At the same time, change is taxing and it brings me up against some of my demons regarding doubt and regret; what-could-have-beens, the roads not taken sometimes haunt me. As I settled into my first few days at work I was overwhelmed with information, new systems, names of people (co-workers and clients), rules, norms, requirements, etc... As I settled into my new home, following 3 months of homelessness, I was holding expectations that my new space would be blissful.

And it is. But it wasn't the first couple of nights as I got to know the quirks of a new space.

My home is a beautiful sublet. It is the home of a couple who have travelled to Florida for the winter and it is filled with their lovely furniture and personal wares. It is heated primarily by a grand woodstove which pumps out the warmth (backed up by a Rinnai propane heater that kicks in automatically). There is a gas cooking range, a refrigerator (recall 'the fridge magnet' - it worked), internet, TV (aka "martha's 2-in-1 energy zapper and depression machine"), and a sleeping loft with a soft bed, feather pillows, new flannel sheets, and a duvet. While there is no shower there is an impressively large tub. And herein lies the beginning of my adventure. For some reason ???? the water supply is not sufficient to fill the bathtub,.... In fact, the hot water runs out in under a minute. Apparently it's on a constant feed heated by a furnace below but it must be a slow heat or low capacity unit. So, last Tuesday night, following a white-knuckle commute from Jefferson to Franconia, I ached for a soak. I realized quickly that this was impossible by pulling on the hot water tank. Forty-five minutes and 8 stock pots of boiling water from the gas range later, I was blissfully soaking in the best and most satisfying bath I've ever built. What a ballet of boiling water and hoping that by the time the next 3 pots were boiled, the water already in the vast tub was not returning to its tepid origins too quickly. I drank 2/3 of a bottle of red wine as I danced back and forth from the cooking range to the bathtub. Afterwards I realized that I should probably drink herbal tea during this process if it's to become a regular affair. Of course, I need all the boiled water I can get for the tub so maybe I'll stick with wine, might have been why I enjoyed my soak so much.

My sublet feels like a home as I sit here on my first Sunday night. I have begun cooking again for the first time in a long time. I am deeply grateful simply to have a roof, warmth, music, soft places to sit and read, and a private place to both fall apart and come back together. As the snow falls endlessly in this small New England town, I am aware of what a luxury it is to have a safe and warm space.

I attached the poem above because I am not alone with my demons and my thoughts of failure. Sometimes, discomfort and disorientation feel simply like darkness and despair. At other times, I feel the ground rise up with an offering for adventure and growth from the same elements of confusion and doubt. Failure to see the light, failure to follow my integrity, failure to choose the good path need not be an end in and of itself. Sometimes it's simply a jumping-off point to a new possibility.

Sometimes one just needs to supplement the hotwater system with a few pots of boiling water and a few glasses of wine, even as your kitchen begins to look like the inner workings of an Italian restaurant.

The image of the rainbow was taken near Jefferson while I was driving to my first day of work. I took it as an auspicious sign of being in the right place at the right time with everything I needed for the ride.

gathering no moss,... yet

This is a tougher entry to write for me. My last trip to Colorado caught me a little off guard. Under my armor slipped a recognition that I struggle with commitment, am a bit reluctant with intimacy, and have gypsied my way through life. I don't acknowledge this with self-condemnation as much as sadness. As I prepared to pack my bags last Monday morning in anticipation of my red-eye flight that night to Boston (after a wonderful and full week in Colorado) I heard a voice within me register on my radar: "I am so DONE with leaving. I am sick of saying 'goodbye'." I am encircled by a wonderful community in Colorado, I have a growing circle in New England, and I am very attached to my family in Ontario. On top of that, there are dear friends sprinkled around the planet whom I consider 'keepers'.

I have lived in the following locales. If there is a number bracketed after the location, it means I lived in a number of places within that community: Woodstock, NB; Holland (2); Woodstock, NB; Presqu'ile, ME; Chester, NS; Mahone Bay, NS; Terra Cotta, ON; Waterloo, ON; Terra Cotta, ON; Peterborough, ON (4); Lytton, BC; Nelson, BC; Lytton, BC; Nelson, BC; Lytton, BC; Victoria, BC; Canmore, AB; Ontario; Fernie, BC (3); Boulder, CO (5), Barnet, VT. That's around 30 moves in 39 years. Less than I thought but still a lot.

For a number of reasons, it's easier for me to go than it is for me to stay. I once had some pride about this fact. Now I'm unsettled. I travel light. I fall in love readily with many beings but I let go easily, not so much out of rejection but from a desire to move forward. I struggle with suffocation. I long for deep connection and yet react with anxiety to too much closeness. What a pickle. Now I am living in a part of the planet that really resonates with my system; in New England I feel at home. I love the pastures, the forests, the mountains, the weather, and the pace of life here. I want to settle down. I wish to grow lighter wings and deeper roots. I want this land to be my home and I want to weave myself into the community here, personally and professionally.

Perhaps awareness is key as many Gestalt theorists and practitioners have declared. Being more aware of my proclivities allows me to notice when discomfort arises with regard to feeling stuck and wanting out. I don't regret any of the experiences I've had nor would I give up any of the people and homes I've known. But now I'd like to explore the depth rather than the breadth available through this human experience.

As it turns out, the next chapter of my journey unfolds this week coming. I will move into a job as a Clinical Co-ordinator/Supervisor at a transition home for adolescents based out of Jefferson, NH (http://www.nafi.com/ and then click on NFI North at the bottom). I'm excited and nervous. I am still searching for a residence and sleeping in my tent. Fear not, I don't plan on living in my tent this winter -- something will come along. It always has... 30 homes don't lie.

natural born killer

I celebrated my friend's birthday while visiting Colorado over the past week by participating in "Lazer Tag" (and other assorted amusements). Indeed, something takes over me when I get a gun-like contraption in my hands; all of a sudden I develop a thirst for blood! In both games I revelled in being the high-scorer (similar to my ridiculous ego-boost for making good driving time between point A and point B) as proof of..... what exactly? Running through the darkened course, hiding behind barriers, the adrenaline pumped through my body, my mind unable or unwilling to discern the difference between pretend and real-life -- see previous post, what is reality anyway?

A few times over the last month or so I have considered setting myself up with a heavy bag or a membership at a boxing gym. Even as I sit and meditate 2 hours a day and similarly spend inordinate hours peacefully walking through the woods and enjoying the silence, something in my system yearns for an aggressive outlet. Is this neurotic? natural? healthy? Am I feeding a monster or soothing a beast? It's more than just being physical, although when I was digging up garden beds I noticed my aggressive tendencies were at least otherwise exhausted. My energy likes to come up against the boundaries of another and spar there -- I liken this feeling to spreading my wings and feeling my full span of energy and movement. There's nothing personal in this activity. It's not a statement or reflection about how I feel about my adversary. In fact, it feels to me more like extending an invitation to another to 'dance', to push against, to meet self through the flushing out of strength, energy, and movement.

Perhaps this is in some ways connected to the origins of the tango or waltz; self and other, the exploration of passion and boundaries through movement and meeting. As a warring species, we might do well to explore this drive further, open our individual and collective minds to how this shadow element of aggression can be more relationally and contactfully embodied for true resolution.

"Reality is merely an illusion...

...albeit a very persistent one." This is a quote from one of the finest 'minds' of our modern era. Albert Einstein knew there was more to life than even his brain could encompass and explain. I have been revisiting some of the experience of a blog I wrote a while back, the one about swimming out to the sea, responding to the call of Sirens. This was not a nihilistic compulsion. Quite the opposite, I believe it was a call to leave behind all that I believe to be true and enter more courageously into the Mystery.

I have taken up reading an author who has inspired me further along this path. John O'Donohue (philosopher, poet, scholar, lyricist) is guiding me as I explore this idea of SOUL; what is a soul? does it exist? for what purpose? Perhaps part of my journey that began in September (if one can indeed mark the beginning of a change) was for me about becoming more intimate with my soul. In Anam Cara, O'Donohue writes:

"Trusting the more prenumbral dimension (soul) brings us to new places in the human adventure. But we have to let go in order to be, we have to stop forcing ourselves, or we will never enter our own belonging...One of the things that is absolutely essential is silence, the other is solitude." (p.98)

I don't believe that one can think their way to an understanding of their soul. I can make lists, analyze situations, choices, circumstances, and history and nothing brings the Mystery to light. Indeed, I have begun to appreciate more and more how light and dark play in this world of discovery and secrets; how valuable the secrets are to maintaining aliveness in the present. I shiver a bit as I think about my past work as a therapist and how I was hungry and driven to throw on all the lights in order to help someone understand their life circumstances. The garden has taught me a great deal about ripening and how there is a time, an intelligence, and a grace to unfolding.

On a more concrete level, I am including some photos taken last weekend, hiking with my friend, Becky, and her 2 dogs in the White Mountains. My skill and technology cannot do justice to the feeling of walking through the woods and coming out on a rock outcropping and watching as the sun sets behind the mountains to the west.

I am still very much enjoying sleeping in my tent (granted the weather has been very kind). On Thursday this week I will fly, once again, for a week-long visit to Colorado - hoping to do some work as a therapist and also reconnect with my friends and community there. I am aware that my life has gone from 4 phones and constant internet access (30-50 emails + 10-20 phone calls daily) to 2 hours a day of sitting, 6 hours of gardening, and dishes. I don't want to lose the solitude and stillness I have cultivated in my life. I do wish to invite back working with people; I want to see how I can incorporate some of my learnings into the privilege of sitting with people as they awaken and ripen.

horses, kitty cats, puppy dog, birds

An exciting, satisfying, gratifying, relaxing, and wonder-filled time in southern Quebec this past weekend. June and I (check engine light on) travelled north of the border to visit with Jane and her excellent 'family' of hoofed, pawed, and clawed beings.

For those who don't know, I've generally been frightened and awed by horses. Jane tells me that horses can see through our masks. Perhaps I know this intuitively and freak out because I can't fake my way into their hearts. I think it also has something to do with history. I had the delight of growing up with an obstinate pony named Dusty who took perverse pleasure in hurting small children. On top of that, our family owned a few high strung Thoroughbreds who similarly had little patience for awkward youths. If you've ever considered getting your children involved with horses, please follow the advice of Jane: have them take lessons for a few years, get them involved with horse care at a nearby farm, and then, when they're 16 or older, go halfsies, maybe.

Horses, even moreso that doggies, need a great deal of space, knowledge, time, energy, training, and care. And they need other horses. They're a herding animal, right? So many of us, particularly women, are drawn to horses. I could share my thoughts on why this is but it would probably just give you unnecessary insights into my own psyche and neuroses. I'm grateful for people like Jane who have put their passion, time, and energy into really being with horses so as to provide a link and access point for the rest of us.

Case in point: Yesterday the sky turned black in the middle of the afternoon and a torrential system moved across the skies and accosted the farm and surrounding area. The horses came in from the fields to seek protection. Jane opened the door to the indoor arena and we all came together under one roof (8 adult horses, 2 foals, 2 women, 2 cats, 1 dog). The air was electric and the winds and rain unleased on the outside walls of the arena. The horses started moving and I could feel myself holding my breath, my eye to the exit. Some nicked and kicked at each other, some rose up on their hind legs, some raced around shaking their heads, whinnying. Jane sat calmly and quietly on a white plastic chair near the middle with the 2 cats on her lap. My eyes were saucers and I kept my body close to the open door in the event of needing to escape. I played with relaxing. I played with re-establishing my ground underneath me. I played with how much power and energy there was in one enclosed area. I liken it to sitting on a surfboard, looking out to sea, watching the building and collapsing of 30 foot waves rolling towards me. I wanted to surrender and simply enjoy this much energy so close. Part of me stayed present and part of me felt compelled to disassociate a bit to moderate the arousal and fear in my system.

While my natural horsemanship skills leave much to be desired, as the weekend progressed I felt noticeably more at ease moving around the horses. And for the most part, the horses were very patient as I learned. I am remembering a suggestion I offer to parents who struggle with holding their ground around their rebellious teenagers: "Don't pretend to be something you're not. Name your experience, own it, make contact with it. Don't make it your child's job to fix how you're feeling. Then you can find your ground from that place of authenticity. And don't stop breathing!"

Thank you, Jane, for sharing your gifts with me.

wild child

I awoke in my tent one morning this past week and heard a quiet voice within: "I don't ever want to sleep inside again." Immediately a louder part of my psyche intruded: "That's ridiculous! Everyone lives and sleeps inside." But it was too late, a part of my being was uncovered and I couldn't turn my eyes away from what lay there.

For 6 weeks, I have been working outside and sleeping outside, coming indoors for food, meditation, contemplation, and washing. I am noticing a shift in the way that I position myself relative to the out of doors -- no longer do I feel like a garden assistant whose actions intervene for the benefit of the land. Rather, it is my place to yield and serve. It is a subtle but profound shift in who leads the dance.

Perhaps it is the combination of working outside with sleeping outside which has altered this dynamic because each night I lie down with the sounds and sensations of weather, my choice is whether I endure or give into the various energies of wind, water, temperature, and light. Maybe the willingness to lie down and be vulnerable has shifted my sense of stewardship; perhaps I have fallen under the guardianship of the natural world and now see myself less as an insider.

With this discovery I am uncovering a belief that my life was to be spent as a professional, be it as a business mogul, lawyer, or psychotherapist. I had not entertained the possibility that I would live with the land as the ground of my being. I tended to look towards recreational activities (camping, hiking, paddling) as a way to satiate my affinity for fresh air and open space. If I consider the level of satisfaction that I have gleaned from this hobby lifestyle as an accessory to my real life I can see that I was not fully satisfied. I was simply looking to more conventionally modern ways to bring the outside in.

In fact, it's less the wilderness that I love than the natural world. There is nothing that compares to fostering greater intimacy with life. There is nothing I have experienced that is as mind-blowing as the voice of the outside which is heard through becoming quiet. The combination of stilling my mind through mindfulness practice and attuning to the movements of nature outside me is revelatory. When this practice is combined with the production of food, heat, and shelter, the dance between being human and being of nature is a practice of worship, grace, generosity, and gratitude.

Rebellion -- I don't kow that I properly pushed back against society when I was a teenager. I feared antagonizing my family and creating general anguish. At that time, rather than dabbling in alcohol, drugs, and sex I pushed aggressively into perfection, competency, and control. My dreams were of living in an estate or a high rise somehow separate from the mediocrity of lower humans and wielding great power over life. Now the phenomenon of rebellion is giving way to non-conformity; a willingness to move through life with authenticity even when it flies in the face of conventionality.

I very much love humans. I light up when I am around people sometimes because there is the possibility of opening and blowing through the boundaries of judgment, projection, protection, and safe/controlled interactions. I no longer wish to live a life away from the magic and mess of humanness. And I now know that I don't want to "sleep inside". No idea how these two parts of myself will coalesce but I am pushing gently into my curiosity and passion for the land not as a place to hide or even restore but as a place to deepen into my own nature. I wonder if I dare to move more towards nature, be it through farming, beekeeping, or gardening, and not revert so hastily back towards the familiar land of therapy. It's a little scary because I fear losing the foothold that I have established as a counselor. But my soul is speaking and the idea of going back into an office leaves me cold.

So, if anyone reading this knows of a way to apprentice as a farmer, sheepherder, beekeeper, or gardener (preferably in Scotland or Ireland) let me know. My back is strong. My hands are like sandpaper now. And I look simply smashing in overalls and rubberboots.

check engine light

...came on again within a week (or 500 miles) of my recent rather expensive excursion to the mechanic's shop. I laughed and shook my head last Sunday night as I was returning from a day in New Hampshire (see photos); what would be the point of getting angry? It is.

This orange symbol perniciously glows out from my vehicle's dashboard each time I start June (aka "my unsympathetic guru"), marring the perfection of an otherwise unobstructed reflection that all is as it should be. I was momentarily relaxed after my last trip to Schnell's VW Auto, exhaling deeply into a fragile self-insinuated sense that nothing was wrong. Funny how I am addicted to the notion that the world is in order and how my system tightens when I judge that something is out of 'flow'. Is it even possible for the Universe to be out of flow? The Universe is flow.

And yet, my consciousness is compelled to look for the proverbial stain on the carpet. Hilarious and sad that much of my attention and energy is committed to looking for what is off and then going to the ends of the earth to rectify this imagined defect. So kind of June to oblige this neurotic compulsion in her own way.

So, seeing both my compulsion as well as the orange dashboard light I wonder how I shall respond; a return trip to Peterborough is out of the question (but no doubt my righteousness wants proper customer service). My resources are limited and I am leery of more mechanical diagnostics and interventions which end up putting me in debt. As such, I continue to drive June with my AAA membership and cellphone in tow, trusting that if a breakdown happens the same perfection of the Universe will be at play and all will be just as it needs to be, just as it is.

And, I do miss my trusty 2001 Toyota Tacoma (aka "Hazel").

the fridge magnet

This past weekend I travelled to Ontario so that I could gather with my family and celebrate the October birthdays including my father's 75th. The weather was a wonderful combination of steady rain and open blue skies. I celebrated the simple pleasures: bedrooms with only one bed, doors that close behind me, bathtubs, beer, and the kind of deep breaths that come only from a sense of privacy.

I like my family. I know that not everyone can or will say this but it's true for me. We're all quirky. We can struggle with and trigger each other. Sometimes I think that "2" is the best number for McClure's -- that when I am with just one family member our level of connection drops to greater authenticity, more honesty, and generally some good emotion. Then again, when we come together as a group, we can laugh and play in ways that bust through the generational differences. Case in point, this weekend found all 3 generations on the grassy lawn playing a competitive game of volleyball (see photo of Dad, member of the winning team).

I admit that I melted down when I went to pick up my tempermental little June-Bug from the VW mechanic outside Peterborough (her 3rd trip to the doctor in 4 months). The cost of a coil replacement has me postponing my dreams of a new camera for the time being -- and that's okay, just because I cannot see the perfection of the Universe doesn't mean that it doesn't exist. Enjoy the pictures anyway.

Being around my peep's stirred up some longing for me -- I miss having a room of my own, I miss cooking for myself, I miss earning an income. My sister, Corry, is learning and practicing pottery. She presented me with a little clay oak leaf facsimile telling me it was a fridge magnet. I sure hope it works, I'd love to attract a refrigerator into my life again one day.

how I spent my birthday

Discovering that having no plan makes space for everything

seeing that change is reflected best in stillness...

.... witnessing how Life pushes up through Ground

...noticing how power can be smoothing...

.... and feeling Life through and beyond gratitude.

trading down and looking in

I have become somewhat self-conscious recently about whether or not others understand the choices I made to wind up working in a garden in exchange for room & board at a Buddhist-based retreat center.

Two years ago I was operating under a belief that happiness and security would be the proper fruits of my efforts to be a success in the world. I married my partner, I moved up the ladder at work, I purchased an expensive SUV, and I fostered visions of creating a beautiful home. I spent upwards of 60 hours a week doing the work that I loved and I wanted more than anything to be masterful as a therapist.

I was building a house of sand and fog for myself thinking that one day I could hide there and slip into comfort and complacency. Within a very short time, my fantasy unravelled. Unlike many people who experience a severe loss or crisis of health which then leads to a desire to wake up

I felt no trauma in my outer life. Instead I felt a dull ache inside and a general discomfort as though I was far from living an authentic life. I was hiding in a coccoon and my system wouldn't stand for it.

I realized that most of my life was not being guided by connectedness and flow but from a desperate fear of emptiness, chaos, and isolation. I was making choices that were not necessarily congruent with my spirit but driven by my need to have something to hold onto.

Today I have cored down much of the noise of my life and relinquished some of the things that I once believed were most valuable. I intend to consciously invite back aspects of conventional Western life but not from desperation nor the need to fill up the void. I am also making more space for true peace which arrises within me not by hiding but from seeing and acknowledging those parts of myself which are not shiny.

I am not a master gardener in the making. Much too much stooping over and I simply do not have a mind for the chemistry of mixing nitrogen and phosphorous in the soil. I don't want to return to the practice of therapy as a way to run from emptiness or meaninglessness. I don't even want to turn to my work as a counselor out of a need for money - I'd rather answer phones or make cappucinos. At least now I realize that I can live off of much less than I made in my prior incarnation.

The photos come mostly from the garden. The rock is situated near the entrance to the garden and reminds me to keep it simple and move towards balance, always with my face to the weather of life. I was drawn to a spider web that was being built in the corner of our tool table and some rakes and shovels that were hanging off to the right. I appreciate the blue light that is caught in the web.

Finally, I connected with a woman this past Sunday who participated in a program here at Karme Choling a week ago or so. She was kind enough to invite me out to visit her home in nearby Sugarhill, NH and to show me around the pastoral fields nearby (see photo). I relished being around an inquisitive spirit, a woman who ponders the great questions of being human while sharing the company of dogs.

return to the sea

I left Karme Choling yesterday afternoon to take a quick trip down to the Boston area and .... well, see a couple of friends, leave the encampment, do some laundry, pick up a couple of items, soak in a tub. Boston is a short shot down I-93 south and it goes by fairly effortlessly for a long-hauling professional such as myself. Poor June though (my VW), her check engine light came on only 2 miles or so into the trip and was still on when I pulled into the parking lot tonight. Who knows what's ailing her now but it's a reminder to get myself that AAA + membership I've been preaching to others to get.

So, I wound up by the sea today while visiting a friend near Newbury, MA. We walked along the sandy shore which was deserted except for a handful of fisherman and an older couple walking their tiny black poodle. As such, there was little else I could do but quickly change into my swimsuit and plunge into the waves. The dropoff from the beach was steep so within a few metres of the shore I was well over my head. Emotions rose up in me, both deep gratitude and a strange unsettled swell inside my system. I don't know how to describe it -- it felt almost like a desire to break free -- of what I am not sure but I fought an inner temptation to just keep swimming out to sea and let go.

I could hear a Siren Song from within to push out and move beyond this world. The inspiration came not from overwhelm or despondency but simply from a wish to walk up to the edge and encircle myself with something so large that the only act left for me would be to surrender.

I was grateful for my time with and by the ocean, deeply grateful -- and still something got dislodged, perhaps some more of my willingness to live an ordinary life gave way and went out with the tide. The disquiet stayed with me through my drive north to Barnet, VT and returned after a short dinner visit with my father and his wife on their way from Eastern Canada to Ontario. After saying goodbye at the restaurant tonight I drove south down I-91 and watched the crescent moon rising above the rolling mountains. The sky was milking from blue to charcoal. Once again I heard the siren's call, all this way inland, and felt displaced from a familiar way of being and walking in the world.

garden goodness and the not-so-Buddhist Buddha

Hitting my one week anniversary at Karme Choling. I love my time in the garden, learning how to work with plants, soil, water, micro-organisms, sun, temperature, and compost. I have a great group of co-workers including a very incredible supervisor, Jan, who is an excellent and passionate teacher about mindfulness and gardening.

Speaking of mindfulness, I am enjoying my cushion time -- got over my "hump" of resistance after a day of silence and sitting. I haven't yet found a comfort zone with some of the Buddhist rituals and traditions/teachings but am trying to remain open enough to allow it all to wash over me and let some things stick and other things go.

I didn't make it through a day in the women's staff dorm where I was initially assigned a top bunk -- me and the bunk did not mesh so I've been sleeping in a tent with my winter bag. This allows for a cold but restful night with me and the spiders vying for heat from the feathers which are rated to -20 degrees. All of this is preferable to low grade anxiety over 5 feet up in the air with another woman tossing and turning in the bunk below. I will stay in the tent until the weather forces me inside.

All in all, it's a good life. I apologize for not writing more about my experience. I think some of it is still percolating inside. Indeed, there is a significant amount of stuff shifting inside but it's tough to capture through words. Essentially, I know that I'm where I need to be for right now and I don't know for how long I will be here. It's not all comfortable but that too is a good thing and an opportunity for some of the rough places in me to smoothed.

summoning courage as I go

In the spirit of continuing to practice giving and receiving and with an eye to my upcoming 39th birthday (October 2nd), I have decided that I will purchase myself a new camera. You see, I have always been a bit shy and self-conscious about asking people to take their photo. And yet, I so much enjoy exploring how beautiful faces can be, captured from different vantage points. I revel in the stories that people tell me of their lives and I am similarly grateful when I can complement a snapshot of a life with a snapshot of a face. Smiles, wrinkles, the depth of eyes, the twist of a mouth -- tension, softness, fear, faith, each of these revealed differently to the eye of the beholder. I enjoy my little point and shoot digital but I am going to buy something with more lens options and a quicker shutter speed as the 1.5 second pause is tricky.

A dribble here as my second full day at Karme Choling comes to a close. It's an adventure on many levels. I'm grateful and taking it one moment at a time and learning a lot about myself, Buddhism, and the garden. I will write more when I take some time to sit down and gather my thoughts and hopefully include some images. Tomorrow is a day of silence (yippie) and 6 hours of sitting (yikes).

As an aside, if you are so inclined, you can mail me at Karme Choling through the following address:
Martha McClure
369 Patneaude Lane
Barnet, VT 05821

love, martha

the cabbie and me see God

Circling and touching down into Logan Airport was spectacular today and took me to a new experience in myself: gravity, the profane, the weight of being human, “the quality of mercy is not strained” – these phrases and words circled my mind like United flight #0386 from Denver circled Boston.

Today I felt the mercy of a universal force that is unrelenting in Its acceptance of all of my parts, all of my decisions, all of my mistakes. I think to myself that the least, the very least I can do is offer others the same sweetness, the same kindness, the same consideration and reverence.

I retrieved my baggage and found my taxi. Over the next ½ hour we ooh’ed and awe’ed our way through the backstreets of Boston and the spectacular sunset that took our breath away in the west. We stopped when and where we wanted and took photos as we went, he on his cellphone and me on my tiny digital camera. At one point, this salty 40-something year-old 3rd generation Bostonian called up a buddy and asked him if he was looking at the sky. I got the sense that his buddy “Paulie” thought he might be warped on psychedelics because he just couldn’t feel the love that “Mac” and I were falling into through the crowded streets and bridges of Bean Town.

Nope, he’s not my life soulmate; he and I simply got to relish a moment of being human, being open, and finding in our respective selves the innate capacity to be moved.

The quality of mercy is not strained.
It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven
Upon the place beneath. It is twice blest:
It blesseth him that gives and him that takes.
Tis mightiest in the mightiest; it becomes
The throned monarch better than his crown.
His scepter shows the force of temporal power,
The attribute to awe and majesty,
Wherein doth sit the dread and fear of kings.
But mercy is above this sceptered sway;
It is enthroned in the hearts of kings;
It is an attribute of God himself;
And earthly power doth then show like God's
When mercy seasons justice.
-Portia from William Shakespeare's “The Merchant of Venice”

thank you colourful Colorado

I couldn't resist a final image of beautiful Colorado -- the view from Niwot post rain and thunderstorm (getting caught out on a dog walk was wonderful). My love to the people here who make this place feel like home.

from West to East, "literally"

Today I am enjoying my last day in Colorado for a while. Tomorrow I will fly back to Boston where my trusty VW waits. I received confirmation today for the next leg of my journey. I will go from Boston to Barnet, VT on Tuesday and join the community of people at Karme Choling (http://www.karmecholing.org/) for a short-term stint as a gardener. Please, hold your laughter and raised eyebrows -- I can garden. It's vegetables not rocket science.

The offer came out of the blue and I'm very pleased. I have wanted more garden time and experience for years but relegated my curiosity behind my passion for becoming a good therapist. As well, I am looking for more structure and support for my mindfulness and sitting practice. I imagine that living in a small community of people (eating, working, sitting, sleeping) for a length of time will bring me up against some exciting (read "yucky") places in myself -- I'm a person who is attached to solitude as part of my dialing for balance and happiness. Indeed, I will meet new facets of me when I see myself in the faces of those from whom I cannot escape.

I said this in my last entry -- how much I enjoy the minutes and hours of being a therapist practitioner. It is such an honour to bear witness to the human process of unfolding. I lightened up this week on my use of knowledge and techniques and focused more of my attention on staying unconditionally present for and loving towards a human in process. Indeed, I was amazed and humbled in seeing that the most fundamental aspect of healing is presence -- I moved into more trust that if I did not interfere too much, my client's own system would go where necessary at a rhythm inherently wise.

This is my intention as I move into this Buddhist community for the next 2 to 3 months: to learn from the plants how to show up and be most supportive and least interfering. Like humans, plants have everything they need programmed into their seed structure for growth and wholeness. My journey/work as a gardener, as a therapist, as a human being is to approach with reverence and faith and to listen for the invitations that come for me to become a part of the process of unfolding. Inevitably, I will be altered through the relationship.

A note about the images: the sunset was from Carbondale, Colorado where I spent some time working this week. Yesterday Kirsten, the dogs, and I went up to Nederland, CO for a hike. We moved through the incredible changing colours and smells of autumn approaching and got saturated by a rain which turned to huge snow flakes.

Once again I think, less story – more life.