The wind is blowing hard again
on this quiet mountain day
Pushing the sleepy trees around
sometimes violently
The old house creaks and moans
drafts winding their ways all through it
Still, somehow the unsettled tousle
makes it feel even more like home
Cats purring silently to themselves
if I hold my breath I hear it
Chimes singing freely just outside –
What a delightfully lazy symphony
What could I add but my breaths unlabored?
My happy heart beating to the rhythm of love –
for what could I ask in a world so wondrous
for what could I lack in this moment at all?

I pulled the card

not knowing

just desperate

seeking the answers to unasked questions

Lotus guru

Blooming

like dance

Smiling as she colorfully unfurls

I didn’t feel it then

the weight

of petals

pulling themselves delicately apart

It’s hard work

being gentle

letting go

unraveling to reveal hidden glories

Happening silently

frustratingly

bit by bit

until nothing is left but undoing

Thrusting vulnerability

exposing

inviting

giving all to possibilities

Spreading wide open

expanding

exploding

willing to fall completely apart

And watching myself fall

bit by bit

beautiful peices

collapsing back into myself

An act of violence

this blooming

this undoing

itself cannot be undone

Yet these dead petals

decaying

become more

feeding the blooms of tomorrows

The house is quiet, only the sound of grandma’s oxygen compressor and the restless shifts of sleeping puppies punctuate the stillness. The overcast sky has overcome midsummer heat and a cool breeze wafts through the open front door, spun about the living room by the ceiling fans, tickling my skin at every bare side. Grandma is feeling well, things are calm, and the energy meanders about on the low end, right between “sleepy siesta” and “reading in a hammock.”

This is my harvest.

Appreciating Peace

I’m not exactly opposed to chaos, in fact, at one time in my life a therapist told me “you can be addicted to anything, even chaos,” in attempt to wake me up to my patterns of poor choices back then. I didn’t get it then, but it’s become obvious as time and life’s lessons have wore on.

I have all the markers of an intelligent person: I cuss, do drugs, stay up late and seek other novel experiences. I travel internationally solo, my #1 bucket list item is “swim with sharks,” and I’ve taken myself far past my own expectations and boundaries again and again. Yet, as of late, all I have wanted is a bit of peace.

Actually, I’ve been craving it, deeply. All my efforts to “full speed ahead” in July were thwarted by reality and I spectacularly failed every last expectation and standard I had idealized for myself at the start of the month. So here I am, beginning a new month and even a new phase of the year’s wheel, hesitant to make another attempt at idealistic grandeur for the upcoming month. Though my intuition and awareness are making it hard not to get excited anyway…

Closing a Chapter

Lammas is a Pagan Sabbat, or holiday, and serves for celebrating harvest as the long days of summer begin to dwindle. There are 4 yearly Sabbats including Lammas (Aug. 1st), Samhain (Oct. 31st), Imbolc (Feb. 1st) and Beltane (May 1st). Each Sabbat falls at a midpoint between the Equinoxes and Solstices, and carries its own seasonal/archetypal energy.

The focus on harvest is an interesting one, because it allows for taking inventory. In this way, Lammas invites us to review what we’ve planted and how we’ve sown those seeds since Beltane. Personally, since May, I feel I’ve been caught in a whirlwind.

So much has happened in just 3 short months and they feel markedly halved. From May through the first half of June I was on dieta, preparing and then participating in a spiritual retreat and largely feeling centered, focused and excited. Mid June through the end of July however, were marked by stress, uncertainty and groundlessness. I am grateful for it all.

Despite my tireless devotion, nothing I did before my retreat was “enough” for me. I felt like I was simultaneously the donkey and the carrot, trying to manipulate my development and attention to the “perfect” degrees in order to activate to upmost potentiality of my spiritual experiences. I struggled to remain in my beingness, fighting my addiction to doership at every angle.

Since my retreat, coming home to grandma being ill, I have been unable to maintain strict control over my experiences, feelings or thoughts, and have largely been caught up in the moments as they’ve happened. I’ve been wading through turbulent waters, barely keeping my head up, let alone maintaining “good form.” Yet, I’ve also still managed to study, write, edit, contribute, encourage, connect, love, meditate, practice yoga, share myself and otherwise be authentically me in spite of it all.

The juxtaposition of these reflections is illuminating.

From The Universe has Your Back (card deck), by Gabrielle Bernstein

Beginning Anew

I’m not going to set standards for my organic spiritual disposition. I am this person who studies astrology, philosophy, yoga and practices meditation, development and awareness – regardless of whether or not I make it a “daily task.” I am a writer, editor, collaborator, contributor, consultant, healer, teacher and coach – regardless of how/when/why these things all get done. I’m not these things because of anything I do, I am these things, period.

This is my harvest: I get to be me. In the stillness and quiet, as well as in the chaos and noise. I am Mayryanna. I am a blessing. I am blessed. All the rest doesn’t matter.

So yes, I’m excited. I’m excited to accept where I’m at, appreciate myself and explore the ever-expanding heights and depths of my consciousness. I will certainly be fighting old habits – for some reason I love planning even more than doing lol – but it’s a lesson I feel fortunate to be learning.

May you all have a blessed, reflective and illuminating harvest as well!

sharp, shrill sweetness
lingering like perfume
saturating the heavy air
with saturated ground
dark hues beneath light
colors, making bright
the dull and subdued
with depths of imbibery
inviting you to sink too
to step a little harder
and walk a little slower
as your senses melt in
tasting the moisture
with every open mouth
breath, drinking down all
these precious pauses
time ceasing to persist
holding so effortless
like dialating to ingest
instead of consuming
your skin prickles at
the freshness of wet
not cold but not warm
a place in between its
listening to the sounds
of nothing to get to
humming the melodies
of forgotten temples
this is your Temperance
this place of abandonment
and the new life unfolding
finding this balance within