Yesterday, I was all happy-cat, feeling that I had surely cornered my mouse. I was lit with sunshine after having spent a few glorious, light filled days with my husband and our grown children here at home--my most-loved safely, happily around me. I was feeling strong, healthy, and with an aliveness of spirit that had not been around so surely in a long, deep while. I worked in the yard a bit—smiled at the dirt that I have missed so much and took great and silly joy pulling weeds. How could I not have always known that pulling weeds was such a pleasure?
I have been working towards my lovely spot for quite some time--some twenty long months. Sitting so securely in it was beyond bliss. Yes, I was the happy-cat reveling in my newly acquired, much sought after, well tended, soft, round, healthy again, perfectly imperfect contented self. Yes, I am a strange cat. Who would have ever thought that my round belly would be a source of joy for me?
Dear husband off to work...dear children back to their own lives...and the phone rings. A friend asks, “May I come to spend the night.” Wow, I thought. The joy just keeps on keeping on. I set out to ready the house, again, change the sheets, set my tumble with enough uprightness for comfort. Where is all this energy coming from? Joy is such good medicine I find.
We go out for a lovely dinner, back home, dear husband off to sleep because his morning comes so very early. I light candles and my friend and I talk into the night. Sometime, in the wee hours, the conversation shifts from incredible, sweet lightness...while my mouse is fat and happy and in a good and safe place, my friend is definitely chasing hers, doesn’t have it in sight and doesn’t even have a path set toward cornering.
I feel the shift inside me. Oh, I don’t want to leave this warm and fuzzy, comforting place that I have bled to get back to. But I love her, and she needs me, so I shift down to that deep position she needs for me to be in. I get down there with her so that I can help to lift her up. That is the only safe and sure way I know how to lift. From level ground.
This morning---cinnamon raisin bagels and coffee by candlelight, a sweet embrace of mutual understanding and love, and she is on her way again. And here I am in my quiet, empty house, with the lovely rain coming down outside my window and the creek rising with the wildness that always stirs something deep within me. And my mouse? Remarkably, astonishingly, is peaceful and happy. Thoughtful? Yes, of course. Concerned? Oh, yes, but not the least bit sorrowful. What sweet changes I see.
Why is Kit telling us all of this? Is it because she is a strange cat? Well, yes, that is surely so. (smile) But she is happily that, so all is well there. Is it because she is sleep deprived? Some of that, as well. (smile) What is her greater reason?
It is just this: I know, without any shadows on my knowing, that I would not be sitting up in my lovely spot so securely this rainy morning without the sweet lifting I’ve received from all of you.
Sometime this past week, the posture became innate. And everyone knows what beautiful posture and grace of movement a cat possesses. I am one with it now. It is now a part of my nature. It is a lovely, lovely thing.
And as great and as beautiful as that knowing is, there is more. Somehow, with my take and take and take, and give here, through the bumps and the beauty, the lumps and the lifting, the tangles and the even-ing-out-togetherness, I believe I’ve learned how to give without completely emptying. I believe I’ve learned how to give from my wholeness and still be whole. I don’t think I even know how to say thank you for your part in that.
Life is not perfect, still some painful places (think leg, arm and parts in-between), but life is blissfully good. I am in a state of acceptance and so very thankful for the grace that I’ve received. I will continue to do my part, to exercise, to eat well, to tend my heart and spirit as well as my body. I will love myself, warts and all. And I will love those around me.
I think I get it.
You are all so dear to me. Even the newest of the new. I feel common ground and of common heart with all of you and I tell you and ask you and even plead with you to sincerely do your part to catch and embrace your own sweet but strong mouse---if you haven’t found her already. Work hard on nourishment--food and exercise--work softly on your heart and spirit--stand whole woman proud--embrace your body with all and everything. There is hope for wholeness. I am your proof.
Christine. I love you-- In the kind of deep and respectful emotion of sincere thankfulness and gratitude. The same to the rest of you brave and thoughtful and giving souls that helped me though. Even the helpings toward others I so often claimed for my own. I was a sponge towards health. I was a greedy cat. Thank you for my soakings.
I know you were not with me for the whole of my journey, and I know I had to do the hard work required, but the Whole Woman lessons and love will always possess a prized and permanent place in my new-found completeness and wholeness. They added so much sweet wiseness to my fuzzy little mouse.
To borrow from our dear Zelda, I send you big squishy hugs this morning.
And to our Anita, and Sue, and others still seeking, please know that I think of you and I carry you with me each day. You will each corner your own mouse and find your own sweet spot again. Please keep the faith and be faithful to yourselves through the hard times. Please do the tough, physical work, as well.
Please think of my friend and send her some prayers and well wishes for her own journey. Her problems are different, but hurt is hurt.
Oh, one more thing. A friend pondered the affect of posting our successes and sharing our bounty. In doing so, were we only hurting the hurting ones even more? Would posting her joy only enhance another’s sorrow? I know, for me, it would have been a dark place to find had it held only the one side. What good would that have done my hurting, bleeding heart? I searched hard for the hopeful and it calmed me and strengthened me as I found each bit of kibble. I don’t see how we cannot post the good...Is that not, in correlation with Christine's work, the Hope here? And isn’t that what we want for each other, in addition to ourselves?
Love to all from a purring if imperfect heart. I think I can sleep now. Love, Kit
Christine
March 19, 2008 - 11:39am
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purr-r-r
So sweet, Kit! It’s all such a grand mystery. Returning to innate posture, natural medicine, natural food, and circadian rhythms indeed returns us to our Whole selves. But why stop with prolapse? I think these four pillars of health should be brought to hospital wards, psyche units, jails, and orphanages.
I know it’s been a slow start, but I feel quite certain ww is going to look A LOT different five years from now.
(((Hugs)))
Christine
goldfinch1
March 19, 2008 - 5:06pm
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Happy for you....
Hi Kit:
I'm so happy for you! You've worked a long time toward this outcome. I hope it lasts forever......
Love, Goldfinch
'Life is not holding a good hand; Life is playing a poor hand well'
Zelda
March 19, 2008 - 6:53pm
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As always Your words Lift me up and Up !!!
It amazes me that witnessing can have such a bouyant effect on my spirit. I've gotten so good at not letting other people and
their problems get to me... Ya know bounderies "n stuff. It's good and has been an absolutely essential survival skill. But this
real joy of listening to my friends growth and accomplishments is sweeter than words can express !! I couldn't be happier if
the joy was mine. I have been doing well - by cultivating my denial. I'm in such a financial free-fall it's something I rarely can
wrap my mind around at all. DH gave me a reality check today, and I'm nearly in a panic.
Kit has touched my heart in deep ways that are hard to express. Could it be that she in some small ways reminds me of a me
that got pounded out ? I don't know. I do know that there is such a tenderness, such a genuinely caring and available heart in
her writing. And I'm so very glad to witness this very soul. She is a balm to my spirit.
Yay Kit !!
More of those BIG squishy hugs,
Zelda
kit
March 19, 2008 - 6:59pm
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Pillars of Hope
Hopefully, we build the pillars within ourselves as our base supporting structure, and as we give from that place of loving strength and solidness we change the world we touch. One person, one life, at a time.
It's easy enough to live and give from surface level--to live and give from our primary thoughts and our primary wisdom. But surface level does not tell or show the whole story of sincere pain. My goal, for lack of a better word, has been to find the resources within to enable me to get down on ground level with someone, openly share their pain, look at it clearly and with honestly and offer a little healing help. And then be able to rise in my own solidness again.
I have learned that it will take the whole of me if I am to be successful. And I believe, Christine, the four pillars you speak of make for a necessary foundation. They strengthen the body to give us the where-with-all to delve into those greater mysteries. Between our knowings and our mysterious un-knowings lies our sacred place. At least that is my understanding of it today. And I think we, as a society, have traveled far away from this simple goodness. I am thankful that through so many others, I was able to latch onto these truths that ignited a deep knowing within my own heart.
I am in a deeply thankful, strong and grateful place. Thank you, dear Goldfinch, for your wish that I remain strong. You are so very bright within my view. I will always be fine. I am much too loved, love too much to be otherwise. I can always rise up and seek some sunshine if the ground proves too cold sometimes. But I surely do wish to do some lifting.
I am feeling that this is maybe not the proper place for such dialog. But it is all mixed up in the wholeness process for me. I cannot heal one part without tending all. As one part heals another one blossoms. It's all complex and lovely interconnectedness.
Perhaps that is my greatest and simplest lesson to myself.
Christine, here’s to the next five years! Kit
kit
March 19, 2008 - 7:14pm
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Hey Zelda
We were posting at the same time! Would never have left you out on purpose. You know my heart where you're concerned, and it is a deep and sweet honor to feel I hold the same place in yours. Lovely, isn't it, how we can care for each other, and so very many, many others, without face meetings or physical touch? I'm sitting with you here. Honored to be. I know some of this new-found solidness came from you. When did it leave the physical organ floppy-ness and evolve into this beautiful pureness of heart we share? loveyagirl, Kit
louiseds
March 20, 2008 - 2:21am
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The me that got pounded out
Hi Zelda
Kit talks about her special spot that she is creating and the role that her garden plays in this.
I too have been working steadily in my garden, spending little money, cos I would rather create something from nothing and the stuff shared between fellow gardeners, knowledge, cuttings, bulbs, ideas, etc. Ah, the fellowship of gardeners!
My garden has been an especially creative place for me during the last 12 months, and a source of great satisfaction, for work done, exercise had, plants shifted, physical abilities challenged, plans made, conversations shared with my kids out on the big bench over coffee, help with demolition and transplanting received from my strong son and husband, and gratitude felt.
Just yesterday, I completed plans and quantities for a new patio area out the front, and put the plans in to the Shire for approval. The big rectangular area is now bare, except for a couple of big steel trusses that were delivered the other day, the roses and plants removed are now established in their new positions, and we wait for the go ahead to start building.
I have felt 'the me that got pounded out' many years ago expressing herself in a way that she has not spoken and acted for many years. It is as if she has now come out of hibernation in preparation for this big project. I am sure that your 'me that got pounded out' is just hibernating too, Zelda. She will eventually emerge when times get better for you, which I feel they will. You probably won't recognise her until she has been back for a while, and you will suddenly realise that you feel lighter, and wonder how you got through all this s&*# that you have been going through.
Cheers
Louise
louiseds
March 20, 2008 - 2:28am
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Cat happy
Hi Kit
What a lovely post. Yes, Cat Happy is a good term, and a lovely state to be in.
Cheers
Louise
kit
March 20, 2008 - 7:48am
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Poundings, Gardens, Tillers, and this Fresh New Day...
Louise, I was thinking just last night that I wished you'd come and offer your perspective somewhere. I looked for Judy too. You both offer something deeply special but very easy to draw from. Good stuff.
In the spirit of unity with you and Zelda, I will also share that I was pounded. Luckily no pounding came from within the sweet shelter of my own home, in childhood or in marriage. But it was close enough, harsh enough (I have always been sensitive), often enough that it took a great and changing toll. It was all words. Just words. Words that sought to make me different than I am. Something in me just couldn't, wouldn't change. I would not have chosen the path, of course, and although I did not change in the direction I was encouraged, through the pain I received a roadmap (of sorts) to my deeper self, my truer self, my happy-cat spot. As I said, you guys have only been with me (or me with you) for a short leg of my journey. Physical problems have only been a small part of my life so far.
Gardens: Louise, I adore when you speak of your garden. Zelda, I know you love yours as well. I learn from you both. I am crazy for dirt. And compost just makes me plain ol' happy. I have a fresh chip pile, a few years old chip pile, and a fully done, lovely smelling, dark and loose one that surely must be like the soil of the earth when it was born fresh and new. The older pile is more than 20 years old and is entirely from tree trimmings! What it offers is beyond beautiful. We let it weed out so it does not wash away. The weeds pull from it so easily when we need to borrow from it riches. My piles are all taller than me and ever so wide! I flag trucks down as they pass our house. I say, "where you going with those beautiful chips you got there?" So many times they end up dumped in our field. So many quick phone calls to my husband at his work to ask where my next pile can go. I am nuts for dirt. Did I say that already? Louise, your place sounds so very, very lovely. Wish I could see. Wish, wish I could see.
Question: I have a little Mantis tiller that has been like my appendage for the last few years. I love to garden with it. I usually use it in soil that does not need much tilling. I just love to play with it. Do you think the vibration is harmful? I would hate to think I had to part with the joyful times I have with it.
The great thing about being human is that we get to choose how to live, what our focus will be centered on for the day, what food for thought we feed ourselves. Sometimes that means we have to create our own little joyful spot amidst our troubles--if we're to have a joyful spot at all that day. Joy for us is joy for those we love, and joy for those we touch, so it like a gift we choose to receive and then to give. I think that is what you do Zelda. What most of us do. Not deny or ignore or pretend we don't have serious issues in our lives. But rise above them in spirit so we can see from our trueness. The joy in your voice from getting to spend time with your son is a lovely example. We rise above and see and experience and rejoice in the love that is there for us. We choose.
Zelda, the me you see is so very lovely and even though there is no way no how that I could ever live up to your vision, you do make me strive for the better me. And if there is any small part of me that causes recognition in you, I can only say that is the loveliest of compliments and I am in sweet company. You often make me cry the sweet tears.
I can't stay here all day. Gotta wash clothes, sweep, mop, work, work, work. Wish I had the seven dwarfs here to help me! What fun that would be. Yes, I am a nut, I know. love, Kit
kit
March 20, 2008 - 8:38am
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Yes, yes, that is it exactly
Louise said: You probably won't recognise her until she has been back for a while, and you will suddenly realise that you feel lighter, and wonder how you got through all this s&*# that you have been going through.
Well said, well said, well said! Louise, if you bump into someone with your rake today, it's just me staying close so I don't miss anything. If I get in the way, just hand me that rake and put me to work. I'll even pull your weeds! I love weeds now!! Long as I can stay close enough to hear you if you got something else like this to say. I like thinnin' others' patches and sharing in their bulbs of wisdom. I only take what flourishes and multiplies anyway...so there's no loss to either garden. Kit