08.08.08
The boys were running around on the soccer field and Marcy and I were wrapped in a blanket, trying to stave off the
At the top of the mountain, a lake had sprung—rainwater filling a hole created by a glacier or perhaps from years and years of falling water. While the children, skipped rocks on the shores of their own private pool, Marcy and I were on a mission of our own, finding a quiet place for our ritual to mark the day. We found a tiny crevice—somewhat protected from the breeze that was blowing the clouds around. And we gathered all the children around.
I pulled our precious cargo out of my backpack. The wishes we had made. Each of us had written or drawn our most precious wishes (no telling!) and folded them up tight. We placed each of them into the tiny space between the rocks and all leaned in tight. Marcy and I instructed the kids to think about their wishes with all of their might. And then she and I pulled out a book of matches.
Since that night I have dreamt of nothing but magic. Wild, Technicolor dreams of flying and knitting needles turned into magic wands. I have dreamed of great love of my child and of bright yellow gingerbread homes and the dear friends who live in them. I have dreamt of healers, and teachers and loved ones all doing amazing things in my little dream world. I have woken to find myself sure, as I have ever been, that Max and I are living a magical life—a life full of wonder and joy and surprises. Whether or not our wishes come true I am sure that I have been blessed by the magical day of 8.
This morning I woke up at 7am. I stumbled to the bathroom, still exhausted from a late night of giggling and horribly executed pool with a group of women friends. I climbed into the shower, turned on the water and soaked in the warmth. After drying off with one of the fabulous Egyptian cotton towels Juan and I had acquired as newlyweds, I put on my favorite brown pants, my favorite green tee, my favorite dzi beaded necklace. I then threw open all the windows in the house and propped the doors open wide and waited for Pat.
After the whole racoon incident this spring, Pat and I agreed that I needed to do some sort of space clearing. But between our mutually crazy schedules, a house that was far too chaotic to bless, and my lack of focus on my feng shui studies this summer we couldn’t get it together. After much back and forth over the last two months Pat and I had finally arrived on today as the perfect day to do it.
With Max out of the house on a sleepover, my dear housemate, my friend Pat and I were able to work together. We lit candles in each room and went through the ancient Chinese ritual with seriousness of purpose, lightness of spirit and a great deal of laughter. We rang bells that boomed and chimed, announcing to all the neighborhood that something sacred or blessed was happening at our place this early Sunday morn.
I am leaning heavily on ritual this month. Chinese rituals, Jewish rituals, Jen Lemen rituals…you name it, I am all over it.
As a girl without much of an organized church, I am craving things that help me make meaning out of our world–out of this transitional space I am in. To make some sense out of the waiting place where I sit.
With my divorce agreement signed, but the court date not yet set I am in divorce limbo. I have decided I want to date again, and maybe even fall in love, but I have no idea of how this will happen and so my heart is in limbo there too.
I can’t help but think that I am a traveler, hanging out at the airport, waiting for my connection, with no idea when it will arrive. The longer that I sit in this place, the more I anticipate getting to my final destination & the more anxious I become. I know that I will not always be in this space but this feeling of being stuck somewhere along the journey is maddening.
So the rituals are soothing. They remind me that all is as it should be. They keep me calm. They also give me a sense that by asking for help I have some sort of control over whether and when my journey will get moving again and I will move out of the in between place.
Its as though I am wandering over to the ticket counter to check on the status of the delayed connecting flight–and to remind people who have the power to help that I really do want to leave this spot. I know my ritual of checking doesn’t make it happen any sooner but it gives me a sense of control AND because I ask so gently and politely I may just win over the staff who can actually do something nice for me. And having gone through the ritual-I can rest and relax some–talk to the people next to me, wander off to the bookstore, get a chair massage, take a nap and make the most of limbo.
And this relief, this permission to keep living, keep exploring even when forward motion seems virtually impossible…isn’t that what it’s all really about, ritual anyway? Its the thing you do to give you the freedom to find the most unexpected magical chocolate shop, the one you would never have known was there but for a long long layover on your way to sweet sweet dreams.
This week I have started in at my new job. Its exciting to start something new and comforting to return to work with my mentor and good friend and a team who knows and loves me. After two years out on my own, it feels like coming home.
I have a new office to call my own and have been thinking this time around about setting it up deliberately. Too often my workspace just looks like a big table covered with papers–all chaos, no calm. Its no wonder that some days I can barely think. This time I am vowing to use good habits–to keep my space clutter free and to decorate it with peace of mind in mind. This new office, this beautiful blank canvas is a perfect opportunity to pull out my feng shui books and focus on how to create and environment that will support me.
The East is the direction of new beginnings, of family harmony and of health. Because of where I am in my life it is the part of my office where I am focused. I love the idea of placing objects with intention. This thing here is here for a reason. Its a little subconscious reminder of what you want from life.
The energy in the east is associated with wood, with growing things, with new life, new beginnings. It is the direction of the dragon, my all time favorite mythical creature.
Here is a little list of things to use to activate the chi in the eastern part of a home of office
to welcome and celebrate new beginnings. Its what I plan to do. Not all these things need to be done–in fact, less is more. This is more a menu to pick from, a list of all the lovely possibilities.
- Green green green. My favorite color. The color of growth, of trees, of spring. So so lovely. Get green color on the walls, green pictures, green items. Some green in the east to generate growth.
- Blues too. Water helps nourish plants and water energy helps nourish the wood energy of the east. Maybe a picture of still water.
- Live healthy plants. Young spring like plants. Broad leaved plants. Ferns or peace lilies. Any kind of plant.
- Things in groups of threes. Three is the number the Chinese associate with the east. Three plants would be lovely. Hmmm…
- A dragon. A picture, a statue, a small jade little guy. Any kind of dragon–it doesn’t have to be a Chinese dragon.
My mind is a flutter with all the exciting ideas for how to decorate my eastern wall. How I can look east and celebrate each new day and every new beginning in my new exciting job.
I have been so grumpy lately. I have been banging-around-the-house grumpy. I think if only he knew how to spell, Max would be hanging out signs–WANTED: NICE MOM- interviewing for my replacement.
Getting rid of the foul odor in the house helped alot. Lighting my candle has helped too. Waking up to find that the couple of flies that had gotten in through the hole in the screen door had had wild nights of love that led to babies did not help. I am sick of being a nursemaid to the natural world. I grabbed the vacuum and the Raid.
After vacuuming up the wormy pre-flies and dropping Max off at the babysitter I drove directly to Pat’s. It was time for an emergency intervention. I had the morning off. I hadn’t seen Pat in a long while and had been feeling a need to seek her wisdom, hear about her new projects, soak up some of what she has learned. She is wise and kind and exudes love and acceptance. And she is fun to boot!
There is nothing like being nourished to soothe a grouchy soul. She made delicious green tea, a juicy fruit salad and homemade lemonade with crushed mint. We talked for hours about feng shui, Myers Briggs, the Enneagram. She told me about her latest class with Joey Yap. We dissected a project I had worked on, talked about science and spirituality, Chinese metaphysics. We pulled out books and papers and poured over them together. Compared notes, nodded alot, furrowed our brows and then said “Aha!”. Sitting with Pat it all seemed to be true and real and of course! and why not?
And then the big OF COURSE hit me. I am happiest when I am being nourished in community. A big long table loaded with potluck foods. A lovely community loaded with ideas and concepts to share. Working together with someone wise on something mutually loved is nothing short of bliss.
I left feeling energized. Something in my soul shifted a little and made room for possibilities and for hope. I realized what I been seeking all these days that I have been mopey. I am in need of the company of wise women & conspirators in creativity. I have been going at my projects alone these days, trying to figure it out on my own. Its become a way of life really, proving to myself that I can do it all my own. I know I can now but I don’t always need to do so. The self sufficiency and independence I have achieved is rewarding but as Winnie the Pooh says, “Its so much friendlier with two”.
So much friendlier with two indeed!
This afternoon Max went off on a playdate.
I was left in my “how did it get this bad?” disaster of a home. Clutter is the number one no-no if you are trying to practice feng shui or even if you are just trying to live a sane and normal life. I had two hours to myself, nothing pressing so I told myself I would do nothing else until I had made some headway.
Despite my devotion to feng shui, clutter continues to be the constant struggle for me. Its a relentless uphill battle, all this stuff that piles up in our home. It sucks my energy and stresses me out. I get on top of it only to slip and slide back down again.
There are so many reasons, so many excuses for why and how it happens. I am a single mom who works at a full-time job. I have a boy who frequently impersonates a hurricane. We have a small(ish) house. There are a lot (too many) toys. There are not enough hours in the day. I am not a naturally organized person.
Back in 2005, when I was in the midst of my feng shui rescue mission, I read everything I could get my hands on about getting rid of clutter. Perhaps, I thought, if I just studied it enough, I would know exactly how to get a handle on this, the house would just magically clean itself, a fairy godmother would come in and show me the way. Needless to say that never happened, but I do remember a Body and Soul magazine article I read that has stuck with me.
It said something along these lines. When you are faced with persistent clutter, don’t just rush to clear it but rather stop and really look at it. Then ask yourself, “What is my clutter trying to tell me? What is it telling me about my life? About lessons I need to learn? About things I need to pay attention to? About what’s going on with me?” The idea was that persistent clutter was really just a symptom of being stuck in another way in your life and by treating clutter as a teacher we could correct the real problem.
It was a fascinating exercise. Today, overwhelmed by the mess all around and sick of the constant batte I decided to repeat it. Here is what my clutter said when I actually decided to listen:
–I am having a hard time finishing things. Lately I am feeling a bit restless and am easily distracted. I get 90% of the way through a project then get up for just a moment–only to be sidelined for weeks on end. I assume I will wander back after I (get a drink, make this phone call, deal with the laundry, kiss the hurt) but somehow the project seems much less interesting once I have moved on. However, I believe with all my heart and soul that if I just leave all my tools out (whether its a journal, knitting needles and yarn, bills, screw driver, sewing kit) I will be motivated to come back and finish, any minute now, but instead I am just bored.
–When I am feeling guilty about my inability to get back out there and finish a project I start something new which I am certain will hold my attention longer and make me feel better. Its a cyclical process as I feel guilty I create more and more activity.
–I have become rather loosey-goosey and inconsistent. I am not enforcing rules around where toys go (or for that matter shoes and wine glasses) and am not insisting on regular pick-ups even though I know we both need these rules. I am avoiding the struggles with my son (and my own inner child) because I just don’t have the energy for the effort.
–I am moving way too fast and not alloting the proper amount of time for me to complete certain tasks. Groceries aren’t getting completely put away, dishes aren’t entirely washed, folded laundry not being put away because I am not giving myself enough time.
What’s interesting to me is that this is so different from what my clutter told me back in 2005. Back then I was drowning in the abundance of things–things I couldn’t let go of and things I bought to fill the void that Juan had left. I was clinging to things as a way to resist the loss of my marriage and my partner, hording new things to avoid feeling empty. I remember that day back in the spring of 2005 when I realized what was so obviously going on in my weary heart. It was a moment of earth shattering clarity. It enabled to me to move forward
I suppose this is another one of these moments but with new lessons, new challenges for growth.
Thank you messy house for showing me what I needed to see today: That I need to slow down and protect that which is sacred. I need to restore my energy and my will to protect my own boundaries. Thank you for giving me this new found awareness of a most uncomfortable restlessness, a searching for something, a yearning for newness. I don’t know what is behind it yet, but it’s worth peeking underneath it to see. To be honest, tonight as I sit in my straightened up home I am not entirely sure exactly how to tackle all of this but I believe a little compassion and gentleness is probably a good start.
On Sunday I woke up at 6 am to paint my front door. It was glorious to be up so early on a Sunday–alone all alone–not a soul in the neighborhood was stirring. The air was still cool, the light still soft. A gentle breeze made music in the trees. I took out my paint brush and turned to the big pine door that I had sealed last month, then primed last weekend. I opened the can of rich semi-gloss black paint and began to lay down three coats with slow gentle strokes.
Front Door MidPaint 6:20 am Sunday
There is something about being up so early on a brilliant sunny Sunday morning that makes even the most mundane household chore a holy act. But this particular chore felt for me like a perfect prayer of thanksgiving, a milestone, a turning point.
Two and a half years ago, when Juan moved, out the house felt claustrophobic, still and heavy. The sadness and tension of the last year still hung thick in the air. I could barely breathe. Once upon a time I had read something about feng shui, an ancient Chinese method of improving the energy in a home. I was desperate enough for change to give it a try.
That is when the universe delivered my now dear friend Pat Lee to my door. And when she got to my door she practically fell down in horror. My door was a problem-and it was just the beginning. The house was a feng shui disaster area–cluttered and chaotic,–elements going in all the wrong directions. A perfect reflection of my life at the time.
Pat gave me a long list of things to-do, baby steps I could take to bring harmony to the house. She came by often and helped me out. I loved feng shui because unlike my personal situation which left me feeling helpless and paralyzed, feng shui offered simple solutions, things I could do. I had no idea how to mend my broken heart but I did know how to change the lightbulbs, to move the furniture, to elimate clutter, to light a candle. Each night when I woke at 1:30 am unable to sleep, mournful and sad, I got up and turned that energy into creating harmony in the house instead of weeping in a heap on the couch. Bit by bit the house became cheerier and felt lighter. Max and I motivated by the progress grew a bit lighter too. But try as I might, there was one task on Pat’s list that I could not quite tackle–that damned front door.
For practioners of feng shui, the front door is one of the most important elements of a house. It is an important gateway where the chi enters the heart of the home. And my front door–well it was a feng shui nightmare. The wood was split, the paint faded and cracked and dirty. The trim around the door was peeling. The storm door was broken in three places, creaked and was missing its screen. Juan still had the key to the door. Fixing it all just seemed too complicated, too expensive, too overwhelming. It was too difflicult a task for a single mom just trying to get her sea legs.
But if I am also completely honest I will admit that that the door felt right to me, awful as it was. My front door looked like I felt. A mirror, a metaphor for my broken heart–a little worse for wear. It served as a little warning to all those who visit–”Enter gently. A storm has passed through here”.
But that was two years ago. As 2006 turned to 2007, I looked around and felt incredibly blessed. Our life was populated by wonderful new friends, I was beginning to connect with creative women. A deep spiritual and creative force inside was beginning to emerge. I started to trust myself in a way I never had. I woke up one morning and realized the door no longer matched the home. It was time to tackle the door.
Fixing my door, like fixing a heart is indeed not a linear process. Unlike the simple feng shui fixes of 2005 it couldn’t be completed in one or even two sittings. There were several aborted trips to various retailers. Seemingly endless indecision about what kind of door (wood, fiberglass?). Appointments with installers that were cancelled for snow days, because the right weather stripping hadn’t arrived. Going back to the beginning all over again. I was convinced it was my destiny to be stuck with my old front door. It was 8, maybe 10 full weeks after my decision to fix it when the door itself was replaced. A lovely perfect simple six paneled pine door. At last.
Excited by the progress I ran to the store to buy paint. I didn’t know anything about protecting wooden doors. Looking at all the varieties on the shelf I wondered what type of paint do I buy? I skipped up to the counter and asked the kindest looking man for advice. He told me to buy Thompson’s Water Seal, seal the door, wait 4 weeks and then buy oil paint which they didn’t sell there.
Downhearted and disappointed I slunked away, dutifully carrying the sealer. The directions on the sealer told me I would be stalled again–I needed 48 hours of warm dry weather to successfully complete the task. March turned to April. The weather and my schedule could not coordinate. Weekends full of cold wet rains cursed me. Grumpiness settled in. A few nights I woke up dreaming of my old life with Juan and sat on the couch in a heap weeping. My door and my heart were stuck in process.
My frustrated eye turned to the peeling trim around my door. It looked even more offensive now that it framed a precious new (though naked) door. I considered scraping and powerwashing it myself. I agonized over when to do it. I made long to do lists that were supposed to get me moving but only made the task feel insurmountable. It pulled on me each time I brought the groceries through the door. In a fit of desperation one Sunday in late April, I just picked up the phone and called a reliable handyman. He was out that afternoon to give me a quote. The next day my trim was painted and fresh. Nothing like asking for help…
Then May offered the gift of a sunny afternoon. Max was on a playdate–I had nothing to do. I pulled out a rag and I sealed the door. It took 20 minutes. All that waiting for 20 minutes of work. I breathed a sigh of relief and then felt a sudden rush of frustration. One more month of waiting.
I went to Ireland. I came home. Max finished school. Before I knew it, more than one month had passed. Two weekends ago I sauntered to the paint store where they sold the supplies I needed. Purchased a can of oil primer. A can of rich black paint, a color Pat and I selected after consulting the compass. Perfect for an east facing door. I primed the door a week ago Sunday. Let it rest for a week and then woke up at 6 am.
I wish I could express the joy and exhilaration I felt looking at my new smart door, all shiny and black. Suddenly all the things in my life that seemed so difficut, so impossible seemed not only possible but probable. I put together my new people-powered push lawn mower and mowed my lawn for the first time in two years. I began to install a new post for my mailbox. I spontaneously invited the neighbors over for salmon and threw my first dinner party in over a year. I dreamed of falling in love again.
And Sunday evening as each family arrived, carrying ice, brownies, chocolate and the makings of mojitos they passed through a door, not yet perfect but more together than the day before, bright and hopeful offering a promise of better days to come. Instead of a issuing its warning, my door told the guests that we who lived there were mending, progress was being made. Sure I still need to remove the awful storm door, and install this guardian I have been coveting since January. There is still work to do on the entrance and then the rest of my house: the lawn that looks like the setting for a Stephen King novel, the garage that needs to be emptied. As my father says of home ownership, “It never ends”. Thats OK.
Its like that with hearts too.
I have nothing brilliant to say tonight and yet I find myself lingering here. I feel I need to write something moving, or say something splashy, witty or deep. But tonight–I got nothing.
I am not very good with nothing. Negative space was a concept that always threw me off in high school art class. Noise could be my middle name. I have always been a more more more kind of girl. More stuff, more papers, more books, more coffee, more ice cream. I have learned to live in clutter, justifying it as the product of an active creative mind. I stuffed my brain full of endless chatter, my house full of momentos, my office full of papers. Nothing (and her twin sister silence) scared the bejezus out of me.
But over the last few years something has shifted and I am beginning to learn to welcome them in. When Juan moved out I wanted to change the environment in the house and give myself space to grieve and move on. I sought the advice of my friend Pat, a feng shui diva. She pointed out that there was no room for me to rest mentally or emotionally in my house. My eyes were always falling on something and all that something was tripping me up.
Slowly but surely I have been getting rid of the clutter. Not just in the house, but my life. I am giving or throwing away things I don’t love or use. Making hard choices on how to spend my time and money. Saying no more often, chosing only things that will feed my soul. Driving means driving–not cell phone calls, knitting at red lights or NPR (well maybe a little NPR)
But that means there is suddenly a whole lot of nothing in my life–wide open expanses. And silence.
And just because I welcome the nothing and the silence doesn’t mean I am completely comfortable with them. Like tonight I sit and try to will something to come and fill the void. But I have to resist the temptation to fill these spaces. I need to learn to breathe into them. To let go.
Growth will not happen without nothing. A bumper crop of strawberries cannot grow in a field choked with weeds. So turn the soil I must, let the field lay fallow and wait here in silence.
A summer will soon arrive and my fields will be full to brimming with sweet fruit. But for now–I will settle for nothing.
