The Bittersweet Taste of Freedom

Big Mama busted out of her cage this morning. A svelt glossy grey rabbit the size of a shoebox tore around the neighbor’s yard with impunity while we, Husband and I, stood in our pjs with utter helplessness. The rain pelted our faces and despite the alluring rabbit food bag that crackled in my arms, Big Mama was having none of it.

Ah! The sense of freedom beneath those paws as she clawed the neighbor’s lawn! I began to admire her for her smarts as we shooed her back into the garage. She hid under our sports car whilst we closed the doors to catch our breath.

“Maybe she’ll tire out.” Husband said flatly as he shuffled back into the dry house.

Strengthened from our breakfast, we set back outside to corner Big Mama in the garage. She slipped our grasp, scampering out into the rain. After chasing her 360 around the house, I finally nabbed her near the garbage cans. Wild-eyed and ready to box me with all her might, Big Mama seemed to give a sigh of relief when she returned to the safety of her cage.

“Freedom’s not all it’s cracked up to be,” I could almost hear her say. Sprawling out on her warm bedding, she immediately fell asleep to the licks of her grateful  brother.

Jonathan Franzen knows this. He penned a gargantuan novel aptly called Freedom that takes us to Minnesota, New Jersey and even West Virginia. A family tale of triumph, defeat and deviance, Freedom teaches us readers that while we may get what we truly desire, it’s not always what will make us happy.

Big Mama learned that lesson this morning. She taught me a great deal  in her cheeky  attempt at escape. Sometimes we need to break out of our cages to taste the other side of the grass. It is then that we realize our side of the fence is just fine too.

If you find yourself wanting to break free, do it so you know what it feels like. You may just find, however, that after all that effort, everything you were ever looking for has always been within your grasp.

In Defense of the ‘Hog, Sleep and Winter Needs

Image Courtesy of Blogs.Babble.com

Groundhog Punxatawney Phil* saw his shadow yesterday. According to folklore, that’s six more weeks of winter for us. Catching a glimpse of a TV segment about the poor groundhog that those celebratory folks in that Western Pennsylvanian town unceremoniously extrapolated from his faux burrow (I mean let’s be honest. What self-respecting groundhog would live in a fake tree stump with his name on it?), I don’t think the poor guy saw much of anything yesterday. He looked bleary-eyed and a tad subdued in the gloved grip of the MC. They robbed him of his sleep, for pete’s sake. He was hi-ber-nat-ing. That’s what a lot of us do in the winter time.

And that brings me to the heart of my message today. With subzero temperatures seizing Europe this week, I am reminded of the natural rhythm of things. Winter  is a season of reflection, rest and a particular set of slow we don’t need in the summer. Our diet changes (for those of us who eat according to the seasons), our pace slows and our need for sleep increases. Being as light-sensitive as I am, I felt the need to crawl into bed at 8 p.m. whilst in Stockholm recently, because it had been dark for four hours.

Our bodies speak to us. But how often do we listen?

The cross-eyed ‘hog knew it wasn’t time to get up yet. So what if we have six more weeks of winter? It’s a good reminder that life’s pace needn’t hasten just because the clock strikes a certain hour. Time is a construct, people. Remember?

Editor’s note: For a super concise history of Groundhog Day, see TurfMutt.

The shortest, and longest, day of the year

Today has the shortest number of daylight hours in the year in the Northern Hemisphere. In the yin-yang of life, it happens to be the longest day of the year for those folks in the Southern one. So while the North is dealing with winter winds, the South is basking in the glory of the sun. The winter solstice for some is the summer solstice for others.

How’s that for perspective?

Celebrate this day wherever you are. Take a moment to realize that the only thing we’re born with is time. As we slowly enter a New Year, what will you do with yours?

Slow Simplicity

The pace of life out West is certainly slower than on the East Coast. For one, the temperatures are in the hundreds (Fahrenheit!) so no one is really in a hurry to move anywhere quickly.

Second, there are fewer people so relationships are cherished as the selection is rather slim. At the local Starbucks we saw the same people each day we went to get Husband’s daily java jolt. In fact, many of the cashiers also moonlighted as tour guides, whom we recognized. The waiter at the Dam Bar & Grill also worked the breakfast shift at Denny’s.

"Let's Go To That DAM Bar & Grill," said the kids. So we did!

And so it goes. Go with the slow is what we are learning as we tour the vastness of this country.

Soothe your soul as you stroll

Life may not always be a walk in the park, but according to new research, a walk in the park could literally save your life. Not only do you get exercise, fresh air and sunlight exposure; but you also benefit from the healing properties of nature unlike any pharmaceutical.

“Sometimes a tree tells you more than you can read in books.”  C.G. Jung

Nature can heal your soul as you stroll. Shaman Brant Secunda and Ironman athlete Mark Allen joined forces to provide some neat tips for you power of slow pals. So without further ado, I present to you seven ways to boost your mood naturally.

7 Ways to Use Nature to Boost Your Moods

By Brant Secunda and Mark Allen

Adapted from their new book, Fit Soul, Fit Body

If you’re depressed, stressed out, anxious, or fatigued, the cure might be right outside your door. New research from Holland shows that people who live near a park or wooded area experience less depression and anxiety. And a study from the UK found that a walk in the country reduces depression in 71% of participants. Scientists have long known that sunlight can ease depression — especially SAD, or seasonal affective disorder, in winter.

When you tap into the regenerative power of your environment, it can have instant and profound effects on your mood, transforming negative emotions such as fear, depression, anger, and anxiety into a peaceful, happy state of mind. Try these techniques:

See the big picture.

To bring fear or worry into perspective, focus on a positive event in nature that will continue whether you face your fear or not. Recall the colors of the last sunrise you saw, or think of the present season and its inevitable progression into the next one. You’ll see that such large events continue — whether you and your fears are there or not.

Embrace the darkness.

At night, find a place in nature where you’re not surrounded by things manmade and the only light is the stars. Get enveloped in the welcome darkness, listen to the sounds of nature, and connect to your world.

Get lit up.

Set your alarm in time to get outside when it’s still dark. As the sun is rising, concentrate on the dawning light. The sun’s rays transform the darkness of night into the brilliance of day. It will brighten your mood naturally too.

Get “soleful” love.

Take a walk outside — someplace where you feel peaceful. Put one foot in front of the other slowly, and quiet your internal chatter. With each step, visualize the earth’s love coming into your body through your feet and dissolving any problems you have.

Center between earth and sky.

Sit or lie on the ground outside. Visualize the light of the sun entering the top of your head, filling your heart and body, and then going down into the earth. Feel the earth beneath you, and draw the love of the earth up into your heart and body, and then send it up to the sun. Feel your connection to all life.

Invoke the deer spirit.

The Huichols use the image of the deer to represent innocence, gentleness, and clarity. To melt away emotional stress, visualize the image of a deer surrounded by a circle. Ask the deer, out loud or to yourself, to help you find harmony and balance, and help you to stand tall like a tree.

Fight negativity with fire.

Transform negative emotions such as fear, anger, and jealousy by sitting before a fire outside or a candle inside and looking at the flame. Imagine your heart opening like a flower and see yourself breathing in the fire’s light. Do this for about 5 minutes. This technique also gives immediate relief to the part of your body that’s holding the emotion (e.g., your stomach).

* * * * *

Shaman-healer Brant Secunda and world champion Ironman Mark Allen teach seminars worldwide on fitness, health, and well-being. Their new book, based on the approach they developed, is Fit Soul, Fit Body: 9 Keys to Healthier, Happier You (BenBella Books). Find out more at www.fitsoul-fitbody.com.

Nature at its hand-made pace

With weather like this, all I want to do is graze.

It’s hard to motivate yourself when the daylight hours span 9:30 am to about 3:15 pm. I’m not kidding. It’s getting dark by tea time in Germany now.

 

As captured from Naturally Peaceful

The lack of sunlight elicits a primal response in my body. It says “Hunker down. Do puzzles. Lay low.” My appetite rises as I yearn for more chocolate than I do all year.

What to do?

Go with it.

Instead of beating yourself up, listen to what your body is telling you. Do you need more calories when the light grows dim by mid-afternoon? Honor that.

You can offset it with more indoor activity (keeping the floor clean with two children and four pet rodents that spend a GREAT DEAL OF TIME INDOORS is physically challenging enough!).

I feel like a small  animal, hamstering away goodies to keep my body fed. If I didn’t, the kids would inhale my treats in one day. So little by little, I feed from the trough of delight. A little bon-bon here, a cup of ginger tea there.

Recently, in an interview on Ageless Sages with Natalie Tucker Miller, I commented how nature goes at its own hand-made pace. You don’t see fall rushing through its season, do you? The same goes for animals. They go at their innate pace (which varies, depending on the season).

So for now I’ll be content to hunker down. With a puzzle. And some chocolate for grazing away the winter at a slightly slower crawl…

 

The Meditative Spirit of Raking Leaves

“Send them outside!” my grandmother used to say when we’d get too rambunctous for her inside the house. We’d roll in the grass, sweep the stone terrace and weed the pachysandra. At the time I didn’t appreciate being sent outside when the air conditioned house seemed much more inviting. But today I find myself fleeing to the outdoors when life is too much with me.

In a pocket of time yesterday afternoon, the sun kissed the Earth with such benevolence that I felt compelled to grab my broom and sweep up the leaves that continue to fall from our walnut tree. There I met our neighbor who was enjoying the afternoon off from his stressful managerial position at an worldwide furniture store. His pet pig (yes, he owns a pot-belly/dwarf pig) was rooting around the ground for the last walnuts he could find. My son appeared with his soccer ball and a spontaneous game of kick-the-ball ensued between the neighbor and him. With each sweeping motion, I felt the stress of my day fall away. My motions were accompanied by the thump of the ball,  the grunt of the pig and an occasional jubulation for a shot well-done. The smell of the rain-soaked leaves soothed my soul as I realized there is great joy in sharing a moment outdoors ~ with son, neighbor and a pet pig whose presence alone reminds me that no matter how demanding our 24/7 world can be, the beauty of the ever-present moment can be ours if we awaken to it.

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Focus Fridays ~ The Healing Powers of Nature

Holistic animal healer, Tara McClure Purcell, speaks about the healing properties of nature. As a wildlife resuce specialist, she has observed how we can learn from animals. “Animals go at their own natural pace whereas we humans go too fast for our own good,” she says. Tune in to this week’s episode of Focus Fridays to hear more!

If you like what you hear, don’t forget to right-click, save, then place your Power of Slow badge of honor anywhere in your social media universe. We appreciate you spreading the word that slow is faster and that fast is merely exhausting!

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• Nature’s Healing Power for Veterans (beliefnet.com)

Waterlogged

Cover of The Alchemist

Water is an element we cannot live without. About three-quarters of the Earth is made up of water, as is the human body. Taking a bath is a luxurious thing. But stay in too long and you get waterlogged. Too much of a good thing can not only leave you with prune-like fingertips. It can actually be lethal. A tsunami is an example of too much water at once.

We often want too much of a good thing or too much of it at one time. As with the tsunami example, we rush toward our goals with a fury that is sometimes too much to bear. The power of slow teaches us to take one thing at a time, embracing the present while anticipating the future and honoring the past. We are creatures with three legs ~one in the past, one in the present and one in the future. At any given moment, we may place more weight on one than the other two. And that’s okay. A large part of your journey resides in where your heart is. As Paulo Coelho so rightly states in The Alchemist, you will find that which you are seeking was with you all along.

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What the apple tree taught me

The garden is a mythological place. It’s the main stage for the beginning of humanity ~ in Biblical terms, that is. It is the showcase of Nature’s riches. And it is the place from which I have learned more about life than just about anywhere else.

You see I have an ancient apple tree outside my office window. I stare at it every day when sitting at my desk, which I do often. It stands strong against the hurling winds with equanimity, just as it plays host to swarms of nearby bees that drink from its blossoms. That is, until last year…

My husband, that merciless plant warrior, pruned its branches beyond recognition after our neighbor complained that its fouling apples dropped too numerously upon his property.

“I’ll be back,” it whispered to me through my tears as I watched the dead branches being neatly stacked for the recycling bin.

The next spring no blossoms sprang from its branches and its leaves were crushed in a hail storm. Haggard and worn, the tree stood in silence as summer folded into autumn, which was soon follwed by a relentless winter that lasted until virtually last week.

As spring finally got around to Germany on Saturday, I worried we’d never see another verdant thing hanging from its limbs. There were indeed leaves emerging, but the blossoms were nowhere to be seen! I found myself comparing a neighboring tree.

“You see! Their tree has blossoms. And ours, well, I suppose it’s all over now…” My own pessimissim surprised me.

Sunday morning I asked my husband if that white reflection I detected without my glasses really was a blossom.

“Nope,” he exhaled, clearly tired of my fretting.

A few hours later, the house was wrapped in silence. The children and my husband were off to their various athletic activities while I sat beside the tree, gazing heavenward.

As I scooped a spoonful of yoghurt into my mouth, I saw it! A merry carousel of buds holding strong against the sun. Then, as if by magic, I detected another and another! It was as if the tree’s promise was unfolding before my very eyes. Funny I hadn’t see it until now…

It had  taken a year to recover from the vigorous purging of the old. It had sought shelter against the storm and had meditated in silence, as any tree does: still, patient, majestic in its unwaivering decision simply to exist. Right here. Right now. Just as it is. With or without blossoms.

What I learned from the apple tree is a precious life lesson. I learned there is a reason for every season, that sometimes we are pregnant with hope and renewal; sometimes we are shattered and torn; and sometimes we need dormancy before we can emerge in all our beauty, too.

As I write these last lines, I see the bees are memorizing the tree’s DNA so that, in time, they will drink from its abundant nectar supply once again.

Thank you, my arboresque friend. You are indeed the poster tree for slow!