Sunset with a few trees in the lower right-hand corner.
Embodied Heart

What It Looks Like in My Dreams

I wrote recently about my increased depression symptomology. The symptom that is causing me the most distress is anhedonia. I am struggling to desire. Wishing for things to be different is normally the one skill set on which I can rely. In order to cope, I’ve been engaging in a behavior I would typically try to avoid, which is idealizing my future. I am very practical in my approach to life and get frustrated by people who are grasping at “if only” without taking concrete steps to get there. Right now, though, “if only” turns into “who cares” so quickly and flatly in me that I think the place of hope in my soul needs dusted off and aired out.

To that end, I’ve created a description of my “ideal” days and what my life actually looks like. There are glimmers of the ideal in my current life. I can feel tendrils of longing and “it’s too hard to make it come true” and “um, hello, how would you pay for this” pulling at me as I write. Anhedonia blinds hope and desire with flashes of memories of failures and disappointments. I value the part of me that doesn’t want to bring more suffering into my life, image fading to black and red streaks of pain, and I value equally the part of me that looks at the ideals and sees watercolors swirling into form and which dreams of the humble cottage in the forest or grand Victorian on the corner lot that maybe could, in some form, take shape.

An Ideal Day in the Country

Morning

I wake up when my body is ready to wake up, without rushing. I hear the birds chirp and feel the breeze blow through the open window of my house. While sipping my morning tea, I read a book chapter on a deck or porch overlooking a wooded area. I take my dog for a long walk in the woods to our kayak launch. We meander through a lazy area of a nearby lake for some time. I return to my house and spend a few hours writing.

Afternoon

I create a home-crafted meal with local ingredients, some of which I’ve grown myself. I garden and housekeep for a short time. After this, I exercise and walk my dog. The remainder of my afternoon is spent on creative activities such as painting, photography or sewing.

Evening

Dinner involves spending time with a friend or two in deep conversation. We either gather for a potluck or go to a healthy restaurant. Afterwards we take a long walk outdoors with my dog and enjoy the sunset. I curl up in front of the fireplace with a good book and some tea to wind down. I practice self-care (for example, a face mask or stretching) then head to bed at a reasonable hour.

An Ideal Day in Town

Morning

I wake up when my body is ready to wake up, without rushing. I hear the hustle and bustle of my surroundings melding into a pleasant rhythm. I take my dog for a walk to a local park and greet my neighbors on the way. I head to a local café for a healthy breakfast along with a book. I pick up local ingredients at the farmer’s market on my way home. I rest in a nook with lots of sunlight and spend a few hours writing.

Afternoon

I create a home-crafted meal with local ingredients. I housekeep and workout. I take my dog for a walk to dog-friendly shops and enjoy a tea at an outdoor coffee shop. I head to a park or local studio to paint or sculpt or learn something that stokes my creativity.

Evening

Dinner involves spending time with a friend or two in deep conversation. We either gather for a potluck or go to a healthy restaurant. Afterwards we go for a long walk outdoors with my dog and enjoy the sunset. We then head to a local cultural event such as live music or an art show. When I return home, I practice self-care and go to bed at a reasonable hour.

My Actual Life

Morning

I get up unwillingly before I am ready to do so. I make breakfast quickly and head off to work. I notice the sunrise at times. I work the entire morning. If it is the weekend, I engage in housekeeping and errands during this time of day. Some weekend mornings I will write or spend time in nature.

Afternoon

I work into the afternoon. I return home and grab meals where I can, occasionally cooking for myself. I work out and watch TV. I go to therapy. I walk my dog at a park. I sometimes write, and, on the weekends, occasionally paint.

Evening

I spend most evenings alone; I’m with a friend or group a few times a week at most. I watch TV and sit around. I typically take my dog for another walk. I rarely notice the sunset. I occasionally engage in self-care, write or read. As of late, I go to bed very early.

Reflection

I feel ashamed of what I’ve written. My shame is not in relation to what I shared about my actual life. Rather, I hear mocking internally in regards to what I wish my life involved. In part, this connects to a specific experience of bullying in which a college roommate made fun of me for writing her a letter the summer before we moved in and stating that I liked spending time outdoors hiking. Apparently she and all her friends sat around and laughed at the naïve, uncool country girl.

Even now, I don’t always succeed in hiding the excitable parts of who I am, the ones that seem very distant during this depression. I dissociate and appear nonchalant when someone mocks my joyfulness as an adult, but it cuts to the quick and shuts into locked corner even further the young, eager and happy parts of self. And, hard as it is for me to admit, I mock myself with the same or even greater intensity. I feel rage when I think of the jaded-teenager aspects we each hold in us that want to eye-roll and smirk our way past anyone’s genuine joy and enthusiasm and I feel compassion when I consider how we became jaded.

I am very curious to hear about your ideal versus your actual life, but not in a way that limits our perspective to a consideration of the distance between them. Rather, what is it like in your being, if you are able, to dream of your ideal? What holds you back if you can’t go there mentally? What are your experiences of having your ideals or dreams ridiculed, and how do you hold space for the energetic and excitable parts of you who want to rush toward that for which you long?

A sunny spot of undergrowth surrounded by tall trees.
Inspiration Fanatic

5 Elements: Creative Visual Exploration through Photography

Cross-posted at my SageWoman blog.

For today’s #InspirationFanatic post, I snapped a series of photographs* based on the five elements–earth, air, fire, water and spirit. I’ve been lacking any desire to be creative and needed a way to get plugged back into Nature. I felt connected to Goddess through this experience, especially when I found the “spirit” spot. I encourage you to go to a favorite natural setting and do the same! I’ve included a few prompts for each element in case you need ideas to get started.

Earth

I honed in on decomposition for my photograph–evidence of something returning to the earth. You might also consider finding a place where soil meets growth, or a plant or animal being nourished by the earth. If you feel stuck, ask yourself what around you feels rooted, strong and grounded.A photograph of a tree trunk rotting away into the earth.

Air

I found myself drawn to movement when I contemplated the air element. You could also look for plant or animal material that tends to get carried in the wind, such as leaves or dandelion fluff. Wispy clouds may also reflect this element. To touch this element, ask yourself what in your immediate surroundings is in motion, is breathing or is aloft.

A photograph of a tree with its green leaves in motion.

Fire

I happened upon a fire pit which felt like an apt representation of this element. A spotlight cast by the sun or dry and dusty conditions fit here, as would flames (in a safe setting of course). If you are unsure what to include, ask yourself what around you is marked by sunlight, dry, scorched or alight?

An empty stone fire pit with ashes after the fire has burned out.Water

Any body of water or aspect of rain, mist, fog or dew represents the water element. This is the element with which I connect the most easily and deeply. The forest where I was hiking ended up being a ridge high above the stream below. It was interesting to notice that my sense of immediacy with Goddess was limited when I realized I wasn’t going to be able to get close to water. If you need additional inspiration, ask yourself what around you is wet, moist, hidden or heavy.

A stream surrounded by logs and trees in late summer.

Spirit

Spirit is amorphous and fully open to interpretation. After feeling disappointed regarding how far I was from water, I retraced my steps as I went to leave and happened upon a clearing in the woods through which the sunlight was pouring. I felt my breath slow and my heart open to this scene. For me, that sense of “I’m right here, right now” is always indicative of spirit.

A sunny spot of undergrowth surrounded by tall trees.

Reflection

For this experience, I let myself indulge my visual sense, which is what I perceive first in any situation. I want to conduct this type of walk again, but to focus on finding a connection to each element through my sense of smell or my sense of hearing, etc. I would also like to brainstorm other concepts that can be represented through photographs. I typically allow Nature to speak directly to me when I go for a walk in the forest and proceed without any plans. It was a nice change of pace to feel that I was seeking specific points of connection with Goddess through Nature; She answered my inquiry and showed me Her beauty.

© 2018 All rights reserved, Suzanne Tidewater

*Please forgive all the copyrights labels; I had someone steal an entire blog post including the photograph recently.

Magic & Phrase

Patience

Maybe if I run, I’ll escape this place.

Get far away where the ghosts won’t find me.

Brown and black fuzz funneling across pavement. The hedge promises new life, quick before

Bird standing sentry, he of bright red stripe and black feather, swoops in for a taste.

 

But all the distance hasn’t changed the past.

Every reminder pulls me right back in.

Pause, breathing flowers floating aside lake.

Pause, until fish surfaces, flicks flea down, and retreats into murk.

 

What boundaries can hold if we are all stardust?

Is it all of me ever-present, even the unseen?

I find shade, and my steps slow.

Path littered with plump flesh and berry seed.

 

Every piece of me may be torn apart, some lost in wet hollows.

And She will spend millennia calling each back.

Pause, tasting blood-purple globes.

Pause, with stained hands and belly full.

 

Every time we think we’ve found the line of Self and Other.

See the particles scatter and buzz.

Not to dredge to bone, not to segment, defend.

No, all we can do is to widen and open. Contract and hold fast.

Holy embrace where sun meets water.

Sacred Spiritual Growth

Resourcing Our Spiritual Needs: Unfiltered Inspiration

Cross-posted on my SageWoman blog.

Do you find yourself craving inspiration on a soul level? I believe that external stimulation nourishes us not only physically, emotionally and mentally, but also spiritually, and functions as a vital ingredient for our well-being. For today’s #SacredSpiritualGrowth Saturday, I will be investigating how slow and attentive engagement with the world around us can produce this sustenance.

Inspiration comes in at least two varieties: wild and processed. The first, the unfiltered variety, is not simply nature as it also includes human-cultivated materials that have not yet been fully assembled. It allows us to take things sense by sense, and to either simply appreciate each as it stands or to engage our creativity by constructing unique permutations. Processed inspiration sounds less appealing, but in fact has gone through one of the most creative machines there—another human’s mind. Each work of art and scientific finding is a human’s diamond. My mind internalizes and makes its own meaning of this product, but what is presented has been synthesized and layered through another’s concentration and effort. I never saw art or inquiry as vulnerability until I held it in this light. Taken together, wild and processed stimuli offer us an unlimited supply of fodder for creativity and growth. I will be tackling both topics in my #SacredSpiritualGrowth posts; today’s blog will consider the first by contemplating how we can engage our senses directly.

Raw Sensory Indulgence

Rather than an exhaustive list, I’ve included specific examples from my own life with an eye toward highlighting the impact of working with each sense individually.

Sight

The primary place in which I am delighted when I engage my sense of sight is in nature. As I’ve spent more time in outside, one of my favorite practices is to “look again,” by which I mean to take in a scene until I think I’ve captured all the nuances it holds, and then to challenge myself to reset the parameters and find an entirely new set of data coming at me. What was previously a simple glance at a tree or hedge evolves into an eco-sphere of activity from this vantage-point.

Human creations, in their raw form, can also connect with us on a visual level. For instance, as a child, I was drawn to fabric stores. I wasn’t very good at sewing and so I was unsure about why they held such appeal for me. I believe now that it was simply the full glass of colors, patterns and textures I was able to drink in with each visit that appealed to me. In the same vein, a row of paint samples may seem mundane but, through its activation of our visual system, we may perhaps find ourselves dreaming in full color.

Sound

Inspiration does not need to come only from experiences we find pleasing. I’ve written before about my difficulties processing certain sounds. I find the most peace in listening to birdsong and the rush of water in a stream, but I believe mechanical sounds and the babble of humans in motion can also provide fertile ground for the growth of our auditory attunement. Consider finding various places where you can sit for a few moments with your eyes closed, and simply listen.

Smell & Taste

Smell is a visceral sense that I believe worth of indulgence. As I described previously, I can get carried away in places such as spice shops. Each spice offers not just a sensory experience all its own, but can also allow an unfolding of emotions and memories. Displays with essential oils or botanical herbs and, of course, natural areas filled with flora allow for a variety of scents that are easily accessed in one location. Rather than rushing to partake in the next fragrance, try pausing and finding the faint whiffs amongst the strong in each smell.

Taste can be a bit more difficult to indulge in nature unless you have a guide who can tell you which items are edible. With or without this opportunity, another possibility is to taste each ingredient in the next dish you make as you assemble it. I think here about how often I barely perceive the flavors of entire meals I eat, much less each component that goes into it.

Touch

We “see” through more than our eyes. By touching various objects with our fingertips, we come to know reality in a way that is difficult to capture in words. One of my favorite encounters is touching the bark of a tree; I feel that a window into its soul is opened each time I do so. Allowing the sun to alight on our face or the rain to wet our feet speaks to us on a nonverbal level. Walking barefoot instantly grounds and reconnects me to Goddess.

From Inspiration to Creation

After engaging with these and other senses, we need not rush to synthesize them into something “creative.” Mindfully being present and absorbing the experience as it stands may be all that is needed; genuine inspiration cannot be rushed or manufactured. Personally, I feel a small shift inside me whenever something has ripened from its original green into a tasty morsel ready to be digested; when I respond to this intuitively, I am almost always delighted at the result. When I instead try to move on without pausing to meet this sensation, the bitter pulp of unready fruit tends to quickly dissuade me from my desire to get on with it.

Taking the entirety of my list of opportunities into account, I think that most of us have more than enough around us throughout the day from which we can draw inspiration. Rather than a lack of stimuli, I suspect what gets in the way of inspiration is in fact mindlessness—glossing over or rushing through material so quickly that we fail to absorb even a fraction of what is being presented, as well as becoming overstimulated and then detaching by distracting ourselves through screens and thoughts of the future or past. The next time you feel completely overwhelmed, take a look at your surroundings. Are you attempting to attend to multiple layers of stimuli at once? Are you trying to both complete a physical as well as mental task? One activity at a time, in fact, one sense at a time, is a revolutionary way in which we can begin to appreciate nuance, complexity and variety. I invite you to stop at the next green plant you meet and get to know it. My suspicion is that you will walk away with more understanding of the world than hours of electronic scrolling could ever afford.

Magic & Phrase

Trust: The Journey

I.

American interstate.

Every metal beast believing its demon worthy

Of being last to leave and first to arrive.

Truncated forests reduced to boundary line.

People, once awoken, see themselves veering into the islanded field

Declaring the reed and grass as heartbeat and home.

Why do painted lines obey the cars?

II.

House of worship.

Calling on our dear providence, weary of weakness induced,

We supplicate that which we already possess.

Voices, only male, trilling dominance as salvation.

Female in form: Madonna or whore

Forced without choice, patterning our birthright.

The mantle we strive to shoulder pleasing and, in failing,

Burn it unmourning as defiled as we are.

III.

Social media.

She traces outlines in the fogged mirror.

Razor thin edges of who she, wisp, idolizes.

Body worthy only in breast and hip and ratio

Of pregnancy to submissive glance.

Her appeal loose flakes to her self-love.

Silver-hair and wrinkle holy gifts

She banishes same as bare flesh to contour.

IV.

Public gathering.

You count first the outcasts, then the leaders, then lastly, the judgmental ones.

Knowing full well to count thrice.

You widen your vision to encompass the uneven horizon

Declaring your name and all the sharpened shards who, molten, forged you.

Uttering actualities until nearby the birds pause and squirrels cease chatter

Nature curling up breathing the air of sovereignty embodied.

You believe your feet to tremble but roots encircle, collecting, as they descend.

V.

Inner sphere.

Transforming midst gates of Inanna and Persephone

Underwater, under world that demands my sacrifice.

All the while eyes forward, lean into the weight

Of boulders cast of shame.

I thought the scenery was superfluous.

Now, branch and pebble and bird feather are

Substance and bone of my offering.