Beloved friends,
Today I am 55 years old. What a marvel it is to be alive, here, with you and all-that-is, now. Time is such a mystery! I am humbled by gratitude and wonder: oh, the thanks I offer to life for this life. And to you, friend: thank you for being here, for weaving your mind with mine by reading with me.
The 0s and the 5s tend to call us to contemplation, don't they? At 55 I find myself considering the Hindu concept of the four stages of life, four āśramas: brahmacharya/student, gṛhastha/householder, vanaprastha/forest dweller, and sannyasa/renunciate). The forest dweller stage is said to be a turn from the big-hubub season of life and toward quietening.
The turning is also supposed to be away from material acquisition and toward simplicity – some translations call it forest wanderer. Musing here has mixed results for me, as my life in some ways is bigger in scope than ever before in this rambly country house on 5 acres. I hope, though, that having let go of most of what I once owned to head to sea, I have learned some things about possessions and identity.
This snake wrapped my arm in 2016 as James and I were turning the corner from city life toward our wandering years. She expresses two things for me. One is an absolute commitment to the process of transformation. Did you know that the snake sheds her entire surface in service of her growth, even the surface of her eyes? As I was letting go of my home, most of my work, the bulk of my material possessions, even some of my name, this resonated strongly with me. I hope that I am able now to see possessions as more of a means than an end now. I know in a different way that I am not what I own or even what I do. I am none of the story of myself. The jnana yoga path asks this again and again: Who am I? I leaned into that deeply for a long time: peeling the layers away. There were many lessons about what I am not in the surrendering and wandering years.
The second thing that the snake says to me is a sort of cosmic joke: the snake surrenders entirely to the process of her transformation, letting go of her entire surface to become that which is next. And what, at the end of her grand transformation, does snake become? Snake! Ever snake. HA! Whatever I am called or do or have, I will always just be this:
A beautiful paradox in my living is that the more I let go, the more the journey of my life feels ultimately like a homecoming. My first published piece of writing was a poem, when I was nine, entitled Alone. Ah, little girl, my heart is ever with you. With the passage of years I watch my grandmother Marion's cheekbones rise through my own face ever more clearly. I feel myself turning like my grandmother Ruth toward the Earth. I feel my beloved ancestors with and within me, and as not only years and decades but generations pass in my living, I understand more and more how deeply I belong: to my family, to human history, to the life of the cosmos. Homeward I go, as we all do.
Marion with me, left, and my father, right.
In the meantime, here we are. The sun rises and sets again each day; always and never the same. Always and never new.
Friday's dawn, Monday's dawn, just a weekend between, from the same spot on the back deck.
Next week I'll have new things to share with you, sweet friends: my schedule for the new year and registration opening for my first course of the new year are percolating away! I look forward to entwining, onward, with you.
Resources
Raising Song
May you know in your bones that this earth is your home.
May you feel in your soul you are worthy and whole.
May you know in your bones that this earth is your home.
May you feel that you belong.
These are the lyrics to Olivia Fern's chant "In Your Bones", which I have sung endlessly for days. It feels like it could have been sung a thousand years ago. May it comfort and uplift you, too, beloved. Spotify, Bandcamp, YouTube.
Zooming Out: The Universe is Vibrating
Scientists have discovered that the universe is vastly vibrational, that the fabric of space time... ripples. "This background rumble is likely caused by collisions between the enormous black holes that reside in the hearts of galaxies."
Awe
A reminder that the Geminid Meteor Shower is peaking! You might catch a shooting star from it any time from late November to late December; the peak will likely be December 13 and 14.
Robert Lunsford
The Wisdom of Elders
Zimbabwe has trained grandmothers with mental health support skills so that they can do what grandmothers have always done with even more skill in a program based around "friendship benches". More at The Optimist Daily or on Instagram.
A Better Instagram
This link will show you the Instagram posts of the people you follow, most recent posts at the top and nothing else. Pass it on!
Zooming In: Seasonal Pleasure
Last fall I was looking to see what to do with the top of a beautiful green leek and found the suggestion to ferment them. I did and, not expecting much, stuffed it into the back of the fridge and forgot it. Lately I've been tucking them into many things: eggs, fish, salad dressings. Easy and wonderful. No, they don't have to age a year, but of course ferments can last a very long time.
Land Art
In closing I offer this lovely earthwork created by my friend Ren, aged two.
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