Care of the Growing Crop
I am here to tell you
this night on the festival of Lughnasaidh
the time of ensuring the harvest
your personal harvest
the village harvest
and the safety of the good we are all growing in the world

I am here to tell you what the ancients know
that if you give up your crop along the way
out of carelessness
or nobility
it doesn't matter
your spirit will be a hollow husk and no one not you not others will be fed

But if you tend your own patch to completion
(no matter how insignificant it seems)
if you let yourself swell with joy with the rich nourishing
milk of fulfillment
you will have raised a miracle

Your small garden of life, of art, of work, of mothering and building
and being a wise woman
whatever you have planted and tended and grown
will feed yourself
your village
there will be corn for feasting
for flour
for popping over winter fires
and enough to plant next year

There will be seeds that open spontaneously in the hearts
of other women
and wild possibilities will appear in dreams
on the other side of the world.----excerpt from Miriam Dyak, 1995


This seems to say it all. I am having a difficult week trying to care and acting as if. I don't think anyone can tell otherwise. I am showing up to life and doing good, authentic work, being present to the work, the walk, the talk, the interactions, the plans, the gratitudes and grace. This migraine (which the alternative talk radio show assures me is because I am cutting off my intuition) is fretting around the edges. It is good for not emotional eating. The long walks are good for the puppy and for me. The rain is even better. It reminds me of what I love about being here. No drastic things will happen. I hope. If they do, we will manage somehow, too. So, I refound this poem this morning--rather it found me. Wasn't too hard. I have it taped to the mirror in the bathroom. It's at eye level when I brush my teeth. It spoke to me again...esp. the part about giving up the crop...and leaving your spirit a hollow husk. I did give up "the crop" back in May when Cedar passed over the Bridge and when h*ll rode in on a handbasket at work. The handbasket hasn't gone anywhere and I am going to tend my patch...and hopefully the wild possibilities will appear in my dreams and in my world.

There is no word yet on family matters.
I go in to SCCA on Monday and Tuesday of next week for routine scans, pokes, and tube-experiences. I will be very drugged for some of this.
I have also learned that I love the music of Leopold Mozart and that there is indeed a book called Classical Music for Dummies with CD. I was inspired by some teatime chats at harp camp about music theory and composers and the like. I am taking suggestions for books or composers that might nourish and engage my mind, spirit, body, and heart. That aside, I am also taking contributions for Belgian style ales and lagers that one might enjoy while exploring the world of classical music. (Feel free to leave these on the porch if I am not home or in the tub...wait, can't do that tub-thing quite yet 'cause ofthe plumbing) You have my eternal and infernal thanks:). No porters, please. Already have one of those. (p.s. He also comes to the calling of "Pudu"!)
Last day of art/dance camp tomorrow. It has been going well. I am also facilitating a women's prayer/connection gathering this weekend. I haven't done one of those since 2004 or 5. Looking forward to it----sort of.