Studying Maya Healing work with Rosita Arvigo and Miss Beatrice Waight made prayer more specific & essential to my healing work. Miss Beatrice taught me to pray again, as I had as a child, “with all my heart, with all my heart”. My blessings for those I cared for became more focused through prayer, using words to bring it into form.
Miss Beatrice taught me to pray to Archangel Rafael, the patron saint of healers, happy marriages, and casting out of demons. As taught by Rosita & Miss Beatrice, I always pray for my clients and students and myself, to bring the highest good to us all. I invoke many faces of God, which I see as just different energies or languages which are accessible to different people at different times, asking the Higher Power to heal through me and guide me.
In the name of the Father, the Mother & the Holy Child, the Nine Mayan Spirits, Shri Krishna, Mahalaksmi, and Archangel Rafael
I am the one, calling upon you, asking you to heal ____________, of her physical & spiritual disease.
I ask you this with all my heart, with all my heart, and I ask that the spirit of the rose assist with this healing.
While at Cozumel, the island of Maya women’s spirituality, I got to pray at the Temple of Ix Chel, goddess of the moon, She who lives in Sacred Waters, fertility and healing goddess, goddess of weaving. An iguana did a fertility dance for me at one temple—whether to entice me or scare me away from eggs I’m not sure. We shared the traditional prayer of the Primicia ceremony with all the participants in the Maya Abdominal Massage conference there at the central temple plaza. That night we had a sudden rain—an indication she received our prayers. The next day we did the full ceremony and buried our offerings in the sand at the beach. Then we did a healing spiritual bath with flowers in the ocean waves. We played and splashed in Her Sacred Waters – a prayer of laughter.
A few days later I was lucky enough to return to the temple with my friend, Samantha, & her teenaged daughter. Samantha had been told the best place to make offering to Ix Chel, so we went there to offer our personal prayers. When we got to the small pyramid, we found it guarded by two very large iguanas who were about half way up the temple—it was intimidating to look up at them, especially since it was the fierce time of nesting. We started climbing up and the one closest to us went inside the rocks of the temple. When we asked if we could go up further we received a “no” , so we did our prayers where we were, sang a song, and then threw our offerings up to the top of the temple. A few minutes after we descended, both of us felt the answering wetness of a few drops of Her sacred rain, telling us she had again received our prayers & offerings.
Recently I read the book Illuminata by Marianne Williamson. In it she gives examples of prayers for many situations and talks about their use throughout our lives. I’ve been finding that praying more often, extemporaneously, really has been very helpful. I was inspired to pray for guidance when my teenaged daughter came home very late after her curfew, in a state that mothers don’t want to see their daughters. It helped me avoid taking it personally, getting overly emotional and allowed me to focus on her problem, rather than on an emotional reaction on my part. I believe that this helped her learn rather than just react too.
Attending the Columbine Unity church I became part of the Prayer Partner team, partly to practice prayer more regularly. Our training gave us many different possibilities in how to pray with others. Each month I'd take a turn after service to be available to pray with people wanting to share their burdens or joys. I also had a list of nine congregants who I called each month to leave them a prayer, or if I was lucky to reach them in person, to pray with them. This steady practice enriched my ability to find prayers in my heart to share with others. It reminded me how we can support each other--if we don't remember the highest at this moment we can call on others to help lift us up. It was a great blessing.
I hope you will try praying more freely in your life. Let me know how it works for you. Prayer is a way to relate more personally to our chosen deity, to give thanks, ask for help for ourselves and others, and to bless. With prayer we acknowledge that we are children of God/dess and that God/dess wants the best for us, just as parents do, even if we ourselves don’t know what is best.
--by Terra Rafael
If you’d like to have a healing session with Terra using her unique combination of Ayurveda, Maya healing, massage, reiki, flower essences & women’s knowledge call her at 720.628.5015 or email at wisewomanhood@gmail.com.
26 November 2008
25 November 2008
My Adventures with Prayer - Part I
If meditation is opening to the highest power, then prayer is the speaking through that opening-- with praise, requests and thanksgiving. We connect and invoke the power of creation to bring forth goodness into the world. The highest prayer is for Divine Will to unfold through us. Our ishta deva or chosen deity could be named or unnamed, Mother Nature or Jehovah, Krishna or the Great Spirit. For me these are all names for the same Power & Love, just as we are all separate impulses of the same Oneness. Maybe I am a bit like the character in “The Life of Pi” who worships as a Muslim, Hindu & Christian with equal fervor and belief, even though his various teachers all saw it as impossible and improper to do so.
I remember praying as a child before I went to sleep each night: “Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray Thee, Lord, my soul to keep. If I should die before I wake, I pray Thee, Lord, my soul to take.” It was a little scary to me to contemplate that I might die before I wake every night just before sleeping. I have amended that prayer over the years—“Now I lay me down to sleep, I ask you Mother, grant me peace. Fold me to your loving breast and nourish me with healing rest.”
As I grew I learned the prayers of my Lutheran heritage—my favorite was the Lord’s prayer. “Our Father Who art in Heaven, Hallowed be Thy Name, Thy Kingdom come, Thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven. Give us this day our daily bread, and forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us. Lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil for Thine is the Kingdom and the Power and the Glory Forever & Ever. Amen.”
Then as my matrix of faith shifted from God the Father to God the Mother I learned to invoke the Goddess in ritual, but there wasn’t much emphasis on prayer. Ritual was where intention was set into motion, not by asking or giving thanks.
As a Sufi belly dancer, I learned to pray the Muslim prayers. First we would do ritual ablutions to wash away the world, then the prayer, facing Mecca. We would say our prayers in Arabic, between a whisper and normal voice, as we did our movements of letting go, and supplication. We also chanted, danced, whirled and studied texts. The power of praying at set times each day was great—to stop whatever you are doing, to turn towards Allah, Allah hu Akbar! God is great! I received the vision of the wave of Muslim prayers moving around the world as time passed around the globe, a constant remembering of the Only One God.
When I began the path of Siddha Yoga, meditation, chanting and selfless service became important spiritual practices to feed my soul. But prayer was not a practice we were taught per se.
Ayurvedic studies included vedic mantras, the invoking of divine power through sacred Sanskrit syllables. It is prayer in a very pure form. Once I was treating a woman with a painful tailbone, hurt over a month before in a fall from her horse. Even her experienced chiropractor husband couldn’t replace it. I was inspired to chant the Sanskrit healing mantra “Tryambakam Yajamahe, Sugandhim Pusti Vardanam, Urva Rukamiva Bandhanan, Myrtyor Mukshiya Mamritat”. This mantra protects as well as heals. It calls upon Lord Shiva, who was the first to utter it to transmute poison he had swallowed to save the world. In ayurveda school we had chanted this mantra thousands of times and it’s also part of the Siddha Yoga tradition in the ancient vedic Rudrum chant, so I was empowered to use it. As I gave her reiki, holding my hand gently over her tailbone, I chanted. Suddenly I felt the tailbone move of its own volition. She reported that it felt better and that the pain was gone from then on.
In giving Reiki we invoke healing energy to course through us, asking that it bring the highest possible good to both the receiver and the practitioner. It is a prayer in action.
-By Terra Rafael
Watch for Part II to hear more about my Adventures with Prayer.
If you’d like to have a healing session with Terra using her unique combination of Ayurveda, Maya healing, massage, reiki, flower essences & women’s knowledge call her at 720.628.5015 or email at wisewomanhood@gmail.com.
I remember praying as a child before I went to sleep each night: “Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray Thee, Lord, my soul to keep. If I should die before I wake, I pray Thee, Lord, my soul to take.” It was a little scary to me to contemplate that I might die before I wake every night just before sleeping. I have amended that prayer over the years—“Now I lay me down to sleep, I ask you Mother, grant me peace. Fold me to your loving breast and nourish me with healing rest.”
As I grew I learned the prayers of my Lutheran heritage—my favorite was the Lord’s prayer. “Our Father Who art in Heaven, Hallowed be Thy Name, Thy Kingdom come, Thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven. Give us this day our daily bread, and forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us. Lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil for Thine is the Kingdom and the Power and the Glory Forever & Ever. Amen.”
Then as my matrix of faith shifted from God the Father to God the Mother I learned to invoke the Goddess in ritual, but there wasn’t much emphasis on prayer. Ritual was where intention was set into motion, not by asking or giving thanks.
As a Sufi belly dancer, I learned to pray the Muslim prayers. First we would do ritual ablutions to wash away the world, then the prayer, facing Mecca. We would say our prayers in Arabic, between a whisper and normal voice, as we did our movements of letting go, and supplication. We also chanted, danced, whirled and studied texts. The power of praying at set times each day was great—to stop whatever you are doing, to turn towards Allah, Allah hu Akbar! God is great! I received the vision of the wave of Muslim prayers moving around the world as time passed around the globe, a constant remembering of the Only One God.
When I began the path of Siddha Yoga, meditation, chanting and selfless service became important spiritual practices to feed my soul. But prayer was not a practice we were taught per se.
Ayurvedic studies included vedic mantras, the invoking of divine power through sacred Sanskrit syllables. It is prayer in a very pure form. Once I was treating a woman with a painful tailbone, hurt over a month before in a fall from her horse. Even her experienced chiropractor husband couldn’t replace it. I was inspired to chant the Sanskrit healing mantra “Tryambakam Yajamahe, Sugandhim Pusti Vardanam, Urva Rukamiva Bandhanan, Myrtyor Mukshiya Mamritat”. This mantra protects as well as heals. It calls upon Lord Shiva, who was the first to utter it to transmute poison he had swallowed to save the world. In ayurveda school we had chanted this mantra thousands of times and it’s also part of the Siddha Yoga tradition in the ancient vedic Rudrum chant, so I was empowered to use it. As I gave her reiki, holding my hand gently over her tailbone, I chanted. Suddenly I felt the tailbone move of its own volition. She reported that it felt better and that the pain was gone from then on.
In giving Reiki we invoke healing energy to course through us, asking that it bring the highest possible good to both the receiver and the practitioner. It is a prayer in action.
-By Terra Rafael
Watch for Part II to hear more about my Adventures with Prayer.
If you’d like to have a healing session with Terra using her unique combination of Ayurveda, Maya healing, massage, reiki, flower essences & women’s knowledge call her at 720.628.5015 or email at wisewomanhood@gmail.com.
24 November 2008
My Personal Creed
I believe in One – Eternal, Unnameable Source,
Unmanifest Consciousness,
Who conceives of all things, made & unmade,
Who I name the Father so that I might speak of Him
And I believe in She who Manifests and Is the Manifestation of All,
the Material Matter, the Mother, the Matrix
from Whom and in Whom all exists.
Creating as joyful expression of her Love for the Father,
She gives Birth, Life, Death, Afterlife and Rebirth to all Beings
And I believe in the Holy Child,
Human Being,
incarnated as the child of both Consciousness & Matter,
capable of the Highest Manifestation of Both in this world,
Exemplified by Teachers, Saints and Avatars of all peoples,
Who with Free Will Choose in the Holy Moment to go beyond habitual patterns
To shine forth with the Highest Consciousness,
while enjoying the Gifts and Challenges of the Flesh.
Unmanifest Consciousness,
Who conceives of all things, made & unmade,
Who I name the Father so that I might speak of Him
And I believe in She who Manifests and Is the Manifestation of All,
the Material Matter, the Mother, the Matrix
from Whom and in Whom all exists.
Creating as joyful expression of her Love for the Father,
She gives Birth, Life, Death, Afterlife and Rebirth to all Beings
And I believe in the Holy Child,
Human Being,
incarnated as the child of both Consciousness & Matter,
capable of the Highest Manifestation of Both in this world,
Exemplified by Teachers, Saints and Avatars of all peoples,
Who with Free Will Choose in the Holy Moment to go beyond habitual patterns
To shine forth with the Highest Consciousness,
while enjoying the Gifts and Challenges of the Flesh.
22 November 2008
Poem - Like a Deer
my heart is shy like a deer
and yet a hungry deer comes down into town.
I have crossed many barren fields and roads alone.
my doe eyes search for you,
a garden of satisfaction I've already tasted.
And yet, the bright head lights
of time-passing-quickly-by
can still freeze my steps with fear.
and yet a hungry deer comes down into town.
I have crossed many barren fields and roads alone.
my doe eyes search for you,
a garden of satisfaction I've already tasted.
And yet, the bright head lights
of time-passing-quickly-by
can still freeze my steps with fear.
21 November 2008
Caring for the Core-Part II
In "Caring for the Core-Part I" I talked about the placement of the uterus and how Maya Abdominal Massage helps her find her proper position. How does the uterus get out of place? As I mentioned, the uterus is suspended by ligaments in the pelvis in a way that allows her to grow with a pregnancy but also leaves her vulnerable to moving out of place.
The uterus is more vulnerable to going out of place three main times in a woman’s life- just before and during each menses, early pregnancy, and postpartum. This is because in these instances the uterus is larger & heavier than usual. With menses the uterus doubles in weight with a full endometrium. The uterus grows with pregnancy, often falling down on the bladder with weight in the first weeks until it finally starts growing upward out of the pelvic brim. Extensive pushing during childbirth can also over stretch ligaments and cause prolapse of the uterus. Postpartum the uterus which has given birth is getting smaller—but the ligaments that hold her in place have been stretched to the maximum. They take longer to get their full tone back and at this time when the abdominal muscles also are stretched out from the pregnancy, the uterus is vulnerable to misplacement.
Women who have repeated pregnancies close together, or who don’t have proper care after a miscarriage or abortion are also vulnerable to misplacing their uterus. Any jarring or heavy lifting during these vulnerable times can throw the uterus out of place. No snowboard jumping during your periods!!!
Even outside of these vulnerable times, someone who is constantly running on cement or doing any sports or activities which jar the body is more likely to have a uterus out of place. One friend jarred her uterus out of place when tobogganing with her kids. Another did it shoveling snow. It can happen from falling on the sacrum or being in car accidents. Having poor pelvic alignment can cause the uterus to tip with the pelvis. Chronic constipation or coughing can bear down on the uterus and cause her to prolapse or go lower into the yoni. Walking barefoot on cold floors can cause the circulation to bring coldness to the uterus which makes her vulnerable, as can a sedentary lifestyle, or emotional armoring from sexual abuse.
Avoiding these causes when possible is one way to care for our core. If it’s an unavoidable cause, then having some care from a certified Maya Massage Therapist and learning to do the self care on yourself will help replace the uterus, tone the ligaments, and restore circulation of blood, lymph & energy in the belly.
by Terra Rafael, Certified Arvigo Maya Massage Therapist & Registered Midwife
The uterus is more vulnerable to going out of place three main times in a woman’s life- just before and during each menses, early pregnancy, and postpartum. This is because in these instances the uterus is larger & heavier than usual. With menses the uterus doubles in weight with a full endometrium. The uterus grows with pregnancy, often falling down on the bladder with weight in the first weeks until it finally starts growing upward out of the pelvic brim. Extensive pushing during childbirth can also over stretch ligaments and cause prolapse of the uterus. Postpartum the uterus which has given birth is getting smaller—but the ligaments that hold her in place have been stretched to the maximum. They take longer to get their full tone back and at this time when the abdominal muscles also are stretched out from the pregnancy, the uterus is vulnerable to misplacement.
Women who have repeated pregnancies close together, or who don’t have proper care after a miscarriage or abortion are also vulnerable to misplacing their uterus. Any jarring or heavy lifting during these vulnerable times can throw the uterus out of place. No snowboard jumping during your periods!!!
Even outside of these vulnerable times, someone who is constantly running on cement or doing any sports or activities which jar the body is more likely to have a uterus out of place. One friend jarred her uterus out of place when tobogganing with her kids. Another did it shoveling snow. It can happen from falling on the sacrum or being in car accidents. Having poor pelvic alignment can cause the uterus to tip with the pelvis. Chronic constipation or coughing can bear down on the uterus and cause her to prolapse or go lower into the yoni. Walking barefoot on cold floors can cause the circulation to bring coldness to the uterus which makes her vulnerable, as can a sedentary lifestyle, or emotional armoring from sexual abuse.
Avoiding these causes when possible is one way to care for our core. If it’s an unavoidable cause, then having some care from a certified Maya Massage Therapist and learning to do the self care on yourself will help replace the uterus, tone the ligaments, and restore circulation of blood, lymph & energy in the belly.
by Terra Rafael, Certified Arvigo Maya Massage Therapist & Registered Midwife
20 November 2008
Poem - Me Embryo
Once I was Oneness-
Me Embryo-
Made by the merging of two that knew each other.
I was whole and holy, full of grace.
Already a female cell,
I floated.
I was fruitful and multiplied,
Cloning myself as myself-
a Raspberry of a kid-
I floated further.
I started knowing that there were many jobs to be done.
I differentiated and curled in upon myself.
About that time I planted firmly into Mother.
-by Terra Rafael
Me Embryo-
Made by the merging of two that knew each other.
I was whole and holy, full of grace.
Already a female cell,
I floated.
I was fruitful and multiplied,
Cloning myself as myself-
a Raspberry of a kid-
I floated further.
I started knowing that there were many jobs to be done.
I differentiated and curled in upon myself.
About that time I planted firmly into Mother.
-by Terra Rafael
19 November 2008
Caring for Our Core - Part One
Our belly is where we begin—the umbilicus was our original root to nourishment from Mother. This area continues to nourish us physically, emotionally, & energetically throughout our lives—when it is free to do its work. When the area is constricted by the uterus being out of place and/or stored tensions, this work does not happen properly. When the constrictions are released we are freer to have belly laughs and feel our gut reactions—as well as avoiding many discomforts & female complaints, such as menstrual cramps & irregularities & fertility problems.
I experienced first hand that these techniques work to move the uterus. My uterus had been sitting low in my yoni for some time—it had to be scooped up to see the cervix when doing a speculum self exam. When I received the massage from traditional Maya healer, Miss Beatrice, I felt my uterus move!! It’s a unique sensation. After having the massage done on me & practicing self massage for a couple of days I checked my cervical position and it had risen up. My next moon time was absolutely free of cramping and in subsequent cycles my blood remained fresh—no brown blood came out at the beginning or end as I HAD thought was normal. (The old, brown blood indicates that the uterus is not releasing all the blood from each period and there is an unhealthy build-up inside.)
Then I was blessed to attend two incredible workshops taught by Rosita Arvigo: Self Care & Professional training in the Arvigo Techniques of Maya Abdominal/Uterine Massage. Her teacher Don Elijio Ponti gave her permission to share what he had taught her to her American people, to help us care for our cores. Rosita had apprenticed with him for 12 years in Belize. She has integrated his teachings with American knowledge of anatomy & physiology; the work of Wilhelm Reich on energy bands; and her training in napropathy (a form of chiropractic which includes graduate level massage training).
At the Professional training we learned also techniques for the upper abdomen. This helps to loosen tight diaphragms and increases circulation, digestion and the ability to breathe deeply. Tightening here can be a way to store old unspoken & unresolved traumas in our body. By gentle work these can be healed. I personally experienced a deep healing with upper abdominal & other techniques regarding past sexual abuse. With the prayers and support of my Arvigo therapists I was able to release some very old yucky stuff from my body in a safe & simple way.
The techniques for pregnant women are specially designed for gentle support of the growing uterus, allowing it to go from the usual 4 oz of weight to about 15 lbs while staying in its physiological position. The increased blood flow, lymph drainage & nerve & energy flows allows for optimum growth of the baby and function of the uterus in labor. By properly position, the uterus can “aim” the baby out most easily. There are also special techniques reserved to use at 38 weeks to be sure the body is primed for labor. Practitioners report less incidence of overdue labors on women regularly receiving this technique. Also reported were successes with breech babies moving head down when the uterus is properly positioned.
I’m excited to include this work as part of my healing practice & look forward to serving you & your friends with these ways to enhance your health & happiness.
I experienced first hand that these techniques work to move the uterus. My uterus had been sitting low in my yoni for some time—it had to be scooped up to see the cervix when doing a speculum self exam. When I received the massage from traditional Maya healer, Miss Beatrice, I felt my uterus move!! It’s a unique sensation. After having the massage done on me & practicing self massage for a couple of days I checked my cervical position and it had risen up. My next moon time was absolutely free of cramping and in subsequent cycles my blood remained fresh—no brown blood came out at the beginning or end as I HAD thought was normal. (The old, brown blood indicates that the uterus is not releasing all the blood from each period and there is an unhealthy build-up inside.)
Then I was blessed to attend two incredible workshops taught by Rosita Arvigo: Self Care & Professional training in the Arvigo Techniques of Maya Abdominal/Uterine Massage. Her teacher Don Elijio Ponti gave her permission to share what he had taught her to her American people, to help us care for our cores. Rosita had apprenticed with him for 12 years in Belize. She has integrated his teachings with American knowledge of anatomy & physiology; the work of Wilhelm Reich on energy bands; and her training in napropathy (a form of chiropractic which includes graduate level massage training).
At the Professional training we learned also techniques for the upper abdomen. This helps to loosen tight diaphragms and increases circulation, digestion and the ability to breathe deeply. Tightening here can be a way to store old unspoken & unresolved traumas in our body. By gentle work these can be healed. I personally experienced a deep healing with upper abdominal & other techniques regarding past sexual abuse. With the prayers and support of my Arvigo therapists I was able to release some very old yucky stuff from my body in a safe & simple way.
The techniques for pregnant women are specially designed for gentle support of the growing uterus, allowing it to go from the usual 4 oz of weight to about 15 lbs while staying in its physiological position. The increased blood flow, lymph drainage & nerve & energy flows allows for optimum growth of the baby and function of the uterus in labor. By properly position, the uterus can “aim” the baby out most easily. There are also special techniques reserved to use at 38 weeks to be sure the body is primed for labor. Practitioners report less incidence of overdue labors on women regularly receiving this technique. Also reported were successes with breech babies moving head down when the uterus is properly positioned.
I’m excited to include this work as part of my healing practice & look forward to serving you & your friends with these ways to enhance your health & happiness.
18 November 2008
Song - Your Healing Waters
Hal-le-lu-jah for Your Healing Waters
Flowing through my life.
Faith helps me jump right in
I’m going to swim
To the Higher Side.
Your Healing Waters dissolve pain & sadness
In tears that set me free.
I’m left washed clean of my doubts & fears
By the never-ending waves of Your Love.
Chorus:
Your Healing Waters let me dive deep
Into my inner Soul.
The world’s busy words are all drowned out
By the unfathomable peace of Your Love.
Chorus:
Your Healing Waters are a steady stream
Bringing all that I need.
You are the Source that quenches all thirst
With the everflowing gift of Your Love.
Chorus:
Flowing through my life.
Faith helps me jump right in
I’m going to swim
To the Higher Side.
Your Healing Waters dissolve pain & sadness
In tears that set me free.
I’m left washed clean of my doubts & fears
By the never-ending waves of Your Love.
Chorus:
Your Healing Waters let me dive deep
Into my inner Soul.
The world’s busy words are all drowned out
By the unfathomable peace of Your Love.
Chorus:
Your Healing Waters are a steady stream
Bringing all that I need.
You are the Source that quenches all thirst
With the everflowing gift of Your Love.
Chorus:
17 November 2008
Poem - Slow Dance with the Aspen Tree
Wind is the music,
Altitude and Gentian, freshly picked, the aphrodesiacs.
My leg against your leg,
Leaves whisper in my Ear.
The masculine roughness of your bark against my face makes
My sap rise, even though it is fall.
Altitude and Gentian, freshly picked, the aphrodesiacs.
My leg against your leg,
Leaves whisper in my Ear.
The masculine roughness of your bark against my face makes
My sap rise, even though it is fall.
16 November 2008
Eating Fat
Eating Fat
I’ve always loved eating fat. As a child, I would savor sinking my teeth into the fat on a piece of roast beef. I followed the tradition of my Norwegian grandma who would eat butter by the spoonful. She lived almost into her 90’s.
My other grandma taught me the joys of mayonnaise. She would make some simple chip dip by mixing garlic salt into mayo. We’d dip into that fatty emulsion, scooping up generous portions on top of our potato chips. She only lived into her early 70’s.
As a teenager I began to delve into the mayonnaise jar with a spoon, especially when I was stressed. It was a quick fat fix. It calmed me—I didn’t know why. This was a secret perversion well into my adult years – until I learned about Ayurveda.
In Ayurveda my fat cravings were vindicated. I was trying to balance the dryness of my constitution through added fats and oils. By making sure that I went for the healthy forms of it, I could do what my basically healthy instincts called for without worrying that it was something I had to hide.
Meanwhile, the country was on a low fat craze. “Fat is bad,” became the message heard high and low. “Low fat-no fat” became the advertiser’s mantra. How could so many people be wrong???
Then menopause struck. My metabolism slowed down and I gained weight. Not usually having to be concerned about my weight, maybe that low fat idea was good after all. Some of that collective mind seeped in and I hedged on my better instincts. After all, if I wanted to BE low fat I’d have to EAT low fat. Right???
Then recently I heard about Diane Schwartzbein, MD and her books on nutrition and health. An endocrinologist, through her work with diabetics she came to see that the low fat diet actually leads down the road to insulin resistance and Type 2 diabetes. A higher amount of good fats, non-starchy vegetables, and proteins, and carbs only to the level needed by the body according to activity level can bring the body into balance, leading to a slow weight loss and healthy metabolism. She explains metabolism, insulin, weight, cholesterol, why dieting doesn’t work, and more.
So last night for our book release party I made my famous artichoke heart dip. People raved about it and craved it. They must be dying for fat. If you want to try it for yourself, here’s the recipe:
Artichoke Heart Dip
Preheat oven to 350 degrees.
Mix together: 1 cup cold-pressed oil mayonnaise
1 cup sour cream (whole fat, not low fat!)
1 cup parmesan cheese
at least 1 cup copped artichoke hearts
1 bunch green onions, finely chopped
Put the mixture (or mix it in) an oven-friendly container.
Sprinkle a bit more parmesan on top.
Bake about 30 minutes – until bubbly and golden on top.
Try this on break, crackers or other favorite dippers. Or mix with cooked green beans or other veggies for an enriching experience.
And read Diane Schwartzbein’s books—you’ll be amazed and healthier.
I’ve always loved eating fat. As a child, I would savor sinking my teeth into the fat on a piece of roast beef. I followed the tradition of my Norwegian grandma who would eat butter by the spoonful. She lived almost into her 90’s.
My other grandma taught me the joys of mayonnaise. She would make some simple chip dip by mixing garlic salt into mayo. We’d dip into that fatty emulsion, scooping up generous portions on top of our potato chips. She only lived into her early 70’s.
As a teenager I began to delve into the mayonnaise jar with a spoon, especially when I was stressed. It was a quick fat fix. It calmed me—I didn’t know why. This was a secret perversion well into my adult years – until I learned about Ayurveda.
In Ayurveda my fat cravings were vindicated. I was trying to balance the dryness of my constitution through added fats and oils. By making sure that I went for the healthy forms of it, I could do what my basically healthy instincts called for without worrying that it was something I had to hide.
Meanwhile, the country was on a low fat craze. “Fat is bad,” became the message heard high and low. “Low fat-no fat” became the advertiser’s mantra. How could so many people be wrong???
Then menopause struck. My metabolism slowed down and I gained weight. Not usually having to be concerned about my weight, maybe that low fat idea was good after all. Some of that collective mind seeped in and I hedged on my better instincts. After all, if I wanted to BE low fat I’d have to EAT low fat. Right???
Then recently I heard about Diane Schwartzbein, MD and her books on nutrition and health. An endocrinologist, through her work with diabetics she came to see that the low fat diet actually leads down the road to insulin resistance and Type 2 diabetes. A higher amount of good fats, non-starchy vegetables, and proteins, and carbs only to the level needed by the body according to activity level can bring the body into balance, leading to a slow weight loss and healthy metabolism. She explains metabolism, insulin, weight, cholesterol, why dieting doesn’t work, and more.
So last night for our book release party I made my famous artichoke heart dip. People raved about it and craved it. They must be dying for fat. If you want to try it for yourself, here’s the recipe:
Artichoke Heart Dip
Preheat oven to 350 degrees.
Mix together: 1 cup cold-pressed oil mayonnaise
1 cup sour cream (whole fat, not low fat!)
1 cup parmesan cheese
at least 1 cup copped artichoke hearts
1 bunch green onions, finely chopped
Put the mixture (or mix it in) an oven-friendly container.
Sprinkle a bit more parmesan on top.
Bake about 30 minutes – until bubbly and golden on top.
Try this on break, crackers or other favorite dippers. Or mix with cooked green beans or other veggies for an enriching experience.
And read Diane Schwartzbein’s books—you’ll be amazed and healthier.
15 November 2008
The Burgundy Shawl
When I first wore the burgundy shawl it was Christmas, 1978. It was a gift from Frannie, the office manager at the investment firm I worked for. I delivered stocks in downtown Denver. Knowing I was a free spirit, she figured that I was a person who would wear shawls. She was right.
Since then, this 3’ by 3’ woven square of wine-colored woolen yarn has served me well. It has sheltered me through 3 marriages, 2 divorces, 2 childbirths, countless menstrual moons, as well as menopause.
It reminds me of how my Grandpa Johnson complimented me whenever I wore red.
Worn around my neck in the winter, it’s protected me from chills, with a flare of fringe. Worn around my waist, I am a gypsy. Worn as a head scarf, I am a Muslim or Audrey Hepburn. Held in my hands, it can unfurl into a moving cloud of color, and I am a belly dancer. It has been a blanket for picnics and sudden sex.
Countless meditations have been marked by wrapping it around my body, to cocoon the flesh, and allowing my inner self to merge into oneness.
It has been my prayer rug, as I have prayed in the Muslim tradition as a Sufi, facing Mecca.
As an altar cloth, it has served as I have honored my ancestors and celebrated the pagan high holidays, both outside under the stars and inside in solitary rituals.
The fringe around the edge still quavers in the breeze.
This shawl is steeped in the many flavors of my life. It carries forward what I have been into what I am now, reminding me of that inner fiber that is always the same no matter how it is styled and used from day to day.
Since then, this 3’ by 3’ woven square of wine-colored woolen yarn has served me well. It has sheltered me through 3 marriages, 2 divorces, 2 childbirths, countless menstrual moons, as well as menopause.
It reminds me of how my Grandpa Johnson complimented me whenever I wore red.
Worn around my neck in the winter, it’s protected me from chills, with a flare of fringe. Worn around my waist, I am a gypsy. Worn as a head scarf, I am a Muslim or Audrey Hepburn. Held in my hands, it can unfurl into a moving cloud of color, and I am a belly dancer. It has been a blanket for picnics and sudden sex.
Countless meditations have been marked by wrapping it around my body, to cocoon the flesh, and allowing my inner self to merge into oneness.
It has been my prayer rug, as I have prayed in the Muslim tradition as a Sufi, facing Mecca.
As an altar cloth, it has served as I have honored my ancestors and celebrated the pagan high holidays, both outside under the stars and inside in solitary rituals.
The fringe around the edge still quavers in the breeze.
This shawl is steeped in the many flavors of my life. It carries forward what I have been into what I am now, reminding me of that inner fiber that is always the same no matter how it is styled and used from day to day.
14 November 2008
Solitaire as a Spiritual Practice
My Grandma Johnson used to play solitaire a lot. I learned from her how to line up the cards in a neat row of 7 and then transfer them, according to the rules, to the 4 piles of suits, beginning with aces. The gentle slapping as the end of each card recoils from fingers to table is a soothing sound to my ears.
So I’ve continued my solitaire throughout my life. It’s such a convenient way to be alone when I want time to myself; when I don’t want to talk with someone; or I’m tired of thinking too much. And it’s a great way to while away the time when waiting or flying cross country.
I got into playing on my PDA (personal digital assistant!) for that reason. I missed the feel and sound of the cards but the speed of dealing out the cards made up for it. I could play games at lightening speed. I started rejecting games that looked like losers once they were dealt. This way I won quite frequently. It was very rewarding – at the end of a winning game the cards on the screen would do a cascading dance. I’d often call over anyone nearby to see it when I won.
When I was younger sometimes I would cheat, but it became apparent that since only I was playing I was only cheating myself. And with my PDA and computer that was strictly verboten. Not even possible. So I gave that up completely.
After awhile I became more aware of my attachment to winning. I’d get emotionally involved and rail against losing. I decided to practice just playing-- letting it be, very simply, the game as it was. Noticing its form, yet letting it dissolve back into its pile of anonymity-- like the K’aaba of the Middle East or the uncarved stone of Taoism, the shuffled deck undealt. Thorough shuffling became a ritual of my religion.
Some games would die quickly and early, while others would go almost to winning but then have a fatal flaw that I could see but do nothing about. Some would be winning. I saw how sometimes I gave up too easily. I learned tricks to open up a corner into a doorway. Each game became a relationship reminding me of the various trajectories of life and how to work with them. And how to accept them when there was nothing else to be done. Solitaire serves me well.
So I’ve continued my solitaire throughout my life. It’s such a convenient way to be alone when I want time to myself; when I don’t want to talk with someone; or I’m tired of thinking too much. And it’s a great way to while away the time when waiting or flying cross country.
I got into playing on my PDA (personal digital assistant!) for that reason. I missed the feel and sound of the cards but the speed of dealing out the cards made up for it. I could play games at lightening speed. I started rejecting games that looked like losers once they were dealt. This way I won quite frequently. It was very rewarding – at the end of a winning game the cards on the screen would do a cascading dance. I’d often call over anyone nearby to see it when I won.
When I was younger sometimes I would cheat, but it became apparent that since only I was playing I was only cheating myself. And with my PDA and computer that was strictly verboten. Not even possible. So I gave that up completely.
After awhile I became more aware of my attachment to winning. I’d get emotionally involved and rail against losing. I decided to practice just playing-- letting it be, very simply, the game as it was. Noticing its form, yet letting it dissolve back into its pile of anonymity-- like the K’aaba of the Middle East or the uncarved stone of Taoism, the shuffled deck undealt. Thorough shuffling became a ritual of my religion.
Some games would die quickly and early, while others would go almost to winning but then have a fatal flaw that I could see but do nothing about. Some would be winning. I saw how sometimes I gave up too easily. I learned tricks to open up a corner into a doorway. Each game became a relationship reminding me of the various trajectories of life and how to work with them. And how to accept them when there was nothing else to be done. Solitaire serves me well.
11 November 2008
Poem - In Honor of Veteran's Day and Anarchist Day
the movie that showed them slaughtering women & children
some mother’s child was killing another mother’s child.
I heard the baby in my womb cry out amidst the sound of gunshots.
I had to cry, when I realized what war really means.
How can mothers allow it?
some mother’s child was killing another mother’s child.
I heard the baby in my womb cry out amidst the sound of gunshots.
I had to cry, when I realized what war really means.
How can mothers allow it?
10 November 2008
What My Family Gave Me
Grandma Johnson gave me a pile of books, a green thumb and an ear for music.
Grandpa Johnson encouraged me to dress beautifully, praising how I looked in the new clothes he bought me.
Grandma Moan gave me the taste of bread freshly baked in her wood stove and water, freshly pumped from deep in the earth and the knowledge that an 80 year old woman could still chop wood.
Grandpa Moan gave me a vision of an angry Norse god shaking his cane like Thor, shaking the lightning, followed by the thunder of his Norwegian words.
Uncle Manley gave me the chance to overcome his abuse and my shame, and a deep-seated attunement to sex.
Dad gave me a two-wheel bike that I could grow into, a canoe that I could paddle alone around Side Lake, and a love for a neat and clean home.
Mom gave me the chance to be responsible for my sisters and brothers, a childhood with a soundtrack of crooners and show tunes, and a warm cuddle now & then.
Grandpa Johnson encouraged me to dress beautifully, praising how I looked in the new clothes he bought me.
Grandma Moan gave me the taste of bread freshly baked in her wood stove and water, freshly pumped from deep in the earth and the knowledge that an 80 year old woman could still chop wood.
Grandpa Moan gave me a vision of an angry Norse god shaking his cane like Thor, shaking the lightning, followed by the thunder of his Norwegian words.
Uncle Manley gave me the chance to overcome his abuse and my shame, and a deep-seated attunement to sex.
Dad gave me a two-wheel bike that I could grow into, a canoe that I could paddle alone around Side Lake, and a love for a neat and clean home.
Mom gave me the chance to be responsible for my sisters and brothers, a childhood with a soundtrack of crooners and show tunes, and a warm cuddle now & then.
09 November 2008
Poem - Coming Home
I’m riding the night snake road eastward on my rubber road-wings,
Home to the Garden of our Delights.
A wild mushroom might be growing in our bed,
Fed by dark moist leavings of our past.
When I taste It , It tastes me back.
The colors come alive until they all burn white
And my eyes close to grow the Garden of brightly blooming waves of light & fragrance
inside of me now—
Home to the Garden of our Delights.
A wild mushroom might be growing in our bed,
Fed by dark moist leavings of our past.
When I taste It , It tastes me back.
The colors come alive until they all burn white
And my eyes close to grow the Garden of brightly blooming waves of light & fragrance
inside of me now—
08 November 2008
Reiki & Worry
Insomnia didn’t just take away sleep time—it added worry time. When I couldn’t sleep, I often would find someone or something to worry over. With my midwifery practice both insomnia and worry were easy pathways to follow.
Reiki helped me through both the worry and the insomnia. This energy healing system from Japan was originated by Dr. Usui in the late 1800’s. “Rei – Kei” means Universal Healing Energy. Through initiation, the channels that carry this energy are opened widely to allow it to flow more freely. It can be focused for specific uses as well—mental /emotional healing and distance healing.
It was the distance healing that came in handy during my night wakings. I promised myself that rather than worrying, which was counterproductive to both sleep and anyone’s well-being, I would send Reiki to the “worry-ee” instead. Permission is necessary for giving Reiki to someone—and my midwifery clients had given me implicit permission do what was helpful to for them and their pregnancy. So, I’d tune into Reiki, invoke the distance healing symbol for them, and send Reiki.
Did my night sessions help? It certainly helped me. While giving Reiki to others it flows through me, filling my energy body with that healing energy. So even if still half awake, I calmed and rested.
Reiki is like food. We take it in and our body does what it naturally does when nourished and working well. Reiki is like sleep. The deep relaxation often accompanying Reiki allows the body to go into deep healing mode. One of the things I like best about Reiki is that it can do no harm.
During prenatal visits, when massaging the woman’s pregnant belly and the baby inside, Reiki would be flowing to them. And at the births, Reiki was filling the room.
The other outstanding phenomenon in my practice after beginning to use Reiki was that babies didn’t have meconium staining in labor. “Mec”, the release of the baby’s bowels, can result from stress. It is not uncommon—except in my midwifery practice. It was so uncommon that, in fact, my apprentices had never practiced the standard procedure of deep suctioning of the baby to prevent aspiration of the meconium when breathing begins. When later my apprentices started attending births with other midwives I was accused of not performing this crucial procedure when needed, since the apprentices didn’t know how to do it. Babies simply didn’t need it. Whether it was the Reiki or some other factor in my practice is hard to discern.
Still, Reiki is such a convenient tool—nothing to carry; no supplies to buy; just initiated hands and the will to share some healing energy.
Reiki helped me through both the worry and the insomnia. This energy healing system from Japan was originated by Dr. Usui in the late 1800’s. “Rei – Kei” means Universal Healing Energy. Through initiation, the channels that carry this energy are opened widely to allow it to flow more freely. It can be focused for specific uses as well—mental /emotional healing and distance healing.
It was the distance healing that came in handy during my night wakings. I promised myself that rather than worrying, which was counterproductive to both sleep and anyone’s well-being, I would send Reiki to the “worry-ee” instead. Permission is necessary for giving Reiki to someone—and my midwifery clients had given me implicit permission do what was helpful to for them and their pregnancy. So, I’d tune into Reiki, invoke the distance healing symbol for them, and send Reiki.
Did my night sessions help? It certainly helped me. While giving Reiki to others it flows through me, filling my energy body with that healing energy. So even if still half awake, I calmed and rested.
Reiki is like food. We take it in and our body does what it naturally does when nourished and working well. Reiki is like sleep. The deep relaxation often accompanying Reiki allows the body to go into deep healing mode. One of the things I like best about Reiki is that it can do no harm.
During prenatal visits, when massaging the woman’s pregnant belly and the baby inside, Reiki would be flowing to them. And at the births, Reiki was filling the room.
The other outstanding phenomenon in my practice after beginning to use Reiki was that babies didn’t have meconium staining in labor. “Mec”, the release of the baby’s bowels, can result from stress. It is not uncommon—except in my midwifery practice. It was so uncommon that, in fact, my apprentices had never practiced the standard procedure of deep suctioning of the baby to prevent aspiration of the meconium when breathing begins. When later my apprentices started attending births with other midwives I was accused of not performing this crucial procedure when needed, since the apprentices didn’t know how to do it. Babies simply didn’t need it. Whether it was the Reiki or some other factor in my practice is hard to discern.
Still, Reiki is such a convenient tool—nothing to carry; no supplies to buy; just initiated hands and the will to share some healing energy.
05 November 2008
Peaches
A peach is the closest thing to a breast in the fruit realm. It has the same inviting, soft roundness, with an aura of fuzz, making its skin more human. And inside is a sweet juiciness that drips like mother’s milk from the corner of our sated, innocent lips. The same trancelike state of contentment can result. If the apple was offered from the tree of knowledge, then surely the tree of life offers us peaches.
This helps explain my rivalry with my stepson for claims on the peach tree in our yard. He says that it’s his—because the peach tree planted when he was born was left at the house of his parent’s broken marriage and this one replaces it. I say it’s mine—because I have watered and tended it, watched it and talked with it. After all, we are both vying for the mother nurturance of those breasts that each of us still feel we need.
If only peach trees, like breasts, produced more peaches the more one suckled from them. On the Front Range of Colorado, our trees bear fruit sporadically. Our changeable springs often warm enough to coax the branches into blossom, only to destroy the flowers with a late freeze.
Yet, I remember one year when the peach tree of my previous marriage was so full of peaches that we had to prop up the branches. And that was after doing some serious thinning earlier in the season.
Oh, what glorious juice those peaches yielded – so tree-ripened tasty. Such joy of plucking off the tree and immediately biting in, the fruit still teeming with life force. Sweet Peach Mother, I hope for a spring that pleases You and brings us enough peach nectar to satisfy us all.
This helps explain my rivalry with my stepson for claims on the peach tree in our yard. He says that it’s his—because the peach tree planted when he was born was left at the house of his parent’s broken marriage and this one replaces it. I say it’s mine—because I have watered and tended it, watched it and talked with it. After all, we are both vying for the mother nurturance of those breasts that each of us still feel we need.
If only peach trees, like breasts, produced more peaches the more one suckled from them. On the Front Range of Colorado, our trees bear fruit sporadically. Our changeable springs often warm enough to coax the branches into blossom, only to destroy the flowers with a late freeze.
Yet, I remember one year when the peach tree of my previous marriage was so full of peaches that we had to prop up the branches. And that was after doing some serious thinning earlier in the season.
Oh, what glorious juice those peaches yielded – so tree-ripened tasty. Such joy of plucking off the tree and immediately biting in, the fruit still teeming with life force. Sweet Peach Mother, I hope for a spring that pleases You and brings us enough peach nectar to satisfy us all.
04 November 2008
Pregnant Belly Painting
It began with a smiling belly button. This particular woman’s belly button reacted to the growing belly of pregnancy by curling into a smile shaped wrinkle. I couldn’t help but notice it while massaging the belly and baby inside during prenatal visits. One day we decided to surprise her husband by turning it into a cartoon—with two dot eyes and a balloon from the smiling mouth that said, ”Hi!” 
After that, I began to notice how the burgeoning bellies of late pregnancy were actually curvaceous canvases waiting to be painted upon. It seemed right to make this painting part of a ritual marking the ripeness of pregnancy. At 37 weeks we paint the belly, celebrating the safety for a homebirth at that stage of development.
The woman can indicate her preferences as to what is included in the painting, but most leave it up to the painters. Usually the painters include me and my apprentices. The woman’s partner and children are also welcome to paint, as desired by the woman.
Women look forward to the ritual as a fun time as well as the marker that all is ready for giving birth. And it adds some fun photos to their pregnancy journal.
After that, I began to notice how the burgeoning bellies of late pregnancy were actually curvaceous canvases waiting to be painted upon. It seemed right to make this painting part of a ritual marking the ripeness of pregnancy. At 37 weeks we paint the belly, celebrating the safety for a homebirth at that stage of development.
The woman can indicate her preferences as to what is included in the painting, but most leave it up to the painters. Usually the painters include me and my apprentices. The woman’s partner and children are also welcome to paint, as desired by the woman.
Women look forward to the ritual as a fun time as well as the marker that all is ready for giving birth. And it adds some fun photos to their pregnancy journal.
03 November 2008
Placenta- excerpt from "Giving Birth to Ourselves, contemplations for midwives and other birth companions."
The placenta is an amazing organ of nourishment & cleansing, which also maintains the hormonal state of pregnancy in the mother. The beauty of a healthy placenta goes far beyond its meaty mother's side and shiny baby's side. Yet many people in this culture abhor the thought of seeing and touching it. It is treated as garbage or made into cosmetics after the birth. Honoring the placenta is a way of honoring nourishment and the process of life itself.
In giving birth to ourselves we each have that which nourishes and cleanses us, maintaining the state of creation in us. That is our placenta now. It may be something very meaty, motherly , shiny, or baby-like. It may be Mother Earth Herself . Whatever it is that provides for us in this way brings us the blessings and nourishment of our Great Mother. By honoring it - acknowledging & thanking it for it's support- we honor ourselves and the process of giving birth to ourselves.
Contemplations--
· Do I know what constitutes my placenta now?
· Do I honor it?
· What could I do to better respect this aspect of giving birth to myself?
Activities--
In giving birth to ourselves we each have that which nourishes and cleanses us, maintaining the state of creation in us. That is our placenta now. It may be something very meaty, motherly , shiny, or baby-like. It may be Mother Earth Herself . Whatever it is that provides for us in this way brings us the blessings and nourishment of our Great Mother. By honoring it - acknowledging & thanking it for it's support- we honor ourselves and the process of giving birth to ourselves.
Contemplations--
· Do I know what constitutes my placenta now?
· Do I honor it?
· What could I do to better respect this aspect of giving birth to myself?
Activities--
Create a physical representation of your placenta to help remind you of it. It could be a special pillow, or a collage of pictures that represent that which sustains you.
Start a placenta book. It could include anything you learn about nourishing yourself and physical placentas.
Be sure that all birth placentas you are in contact with are treated with respect - if need be, take custody.
Giving Birth to Ourselves, contemplations for midwives and other birth companions by Terra Rafael is available as a print on demand book or download at www.lulu.com
02 November 2008
Blueberries
There is nothing like the taste of wild blueberries. It’s been decades since I had them, yet the memory of them lingers. In the Wisconsin Indian summer, Grandma, Grandpa & I would go into the woods to gather them. It was still warmish weather, yet we’d wear long sleeves to protect us from scratches from undergrowth and itches from mosquitoes. I carried a little metal pail, shiny silver with a silvery metal wire handle that would squeak a bit on the hinge where it connected to the pail.
The woods were shady and damp, the perfect habitat for wild blueberries, mosquitoes and bears. I never saw the bears but knew that they were there, somewhere in the bushes, and that they too love blueberries, so I was their rival.
I definitely ate at least half of all the berries that I picked, right there on the spot. When the dark blue skin gave way to my teeth, the burst of concentrated sweetness and blue flavor pleased me ever so much. But I still managed to have at least half my child-sized pail filled when we went home—along with some itchy red bumps from bug bites.
Since I moved to Colorado 33 years ago I haven’t had a chance to visit the wild blueberry patches of Wisconsin. So when I first saw blueberries at the grocery store I was hopeful about resuming my blue-tinged pleasure. Those first ones were almost the size of grapes--& tasteless. I wouldn’t really call them blueberries, and although blue on the outside, even the skin color was less vivid. The sweet and blue flavor was diluted by domestication. Wild blueberries grew where they willed, whereas domesticated rows were coaxed into productivity where the farmer chose. Those reluctant blueberries didn’t have what they needed to make that amazing wild flavor. Perhaps bred for production and size, somehow the flavor genes got lost. Most Coloradans might never have tasted the real thing, but I was sorely disappointed.
Over the years commercial blueberries have greatly improved—especially the organic ones. They taste nearer to wild, with more of the flavor, and now aren’t so big. I indulge in my blue-tinged pleasure at will—especially because they have so many health benefits as well. Micro-nutrients packed into that delicious package prevent –or even reverse- mental decline due to aging, prevent cancer, and lower cholesterol.
One summer we tried to grow some blueberry plants in our Colorado yard. I never would have bought the plants, knowing that the climate is all wrong here. But my husband Victor bought them because blueberries are a family favorite.
So we planted the two plants in our back yard. That’s how I found out that rabbits love blueberry plants even more than I do. They ate all of the leaves, down to the ground, before there was even a hint of a blueberry on them. The bare stems forlornly bore no more leaves. It was sad but perhaps for the best. I would have been even more disappointed to bring pseudo-blueberries into the world.
The woods were shady and damp, the perfect habitat for wild blueberries, mosquitoes and bears. I never saw the bears but knew that they were there, somewhere in the bushes, and that they too love blueberries, so I was their rival.
I definitely ate at least half of all the berries that I picked, right there on the spot. When the dark blue skin gave way to my teeth, the burst of concentrated sweetness and blue flavor pleased me ever so much. But I still managed to have at least half my child-sized pail filled when we went home—along with some itchy red bumps from bug bites.
Since I moved to Colorado 33 years ago I haven’t had a chance to visit the wild blueberry patches of Wisconsin. So when I first saw blueberries at the grocery store I was hopeful about resuming my blue-tinged pleasure. Those first ones were almost the size of grapes--& tasteless. I wouldn’t really call them blueberries, and although blue on the outside, even the skin color was less vivid. The sweet and blue flavor was diluted by domestication. Wild blueberries grew where they willed, whereas domesticated rows were coaxed into productivity where the farmer chose. Those reluctant blueberries didn’t have what they needed to make that amazing wild flavor. Perhaps bred for production and size, somehow the flavor genes got lost. Most Coloradans might never have tasted the real thing, but I was sorely disappointed.
Over the years commercial blueberries have greatly improved—especially the organic ones. They taste nearer to wild, with more of the flavor, and now aren’t so big. I indulge in my blue-tinged pleasure at will—especially because they have so many health benefits as well. Micro-nutrients packed into that delicious package prevent –or even reverse- mental decline due to aging, prevent cancer, and lower cholesterol.
One summer we tried to grow some blueberry plants in our Colorado yard. I never would have bought the plants, knowing that the climate is all wrong here. But my husband Victor bought them because blueberries are a family favorite.
So we planted the two plants in our back yard. That’s how I found out that rabbits love blueberry plants even more than I do. They ate all of the leaves, down to the ground, before there was even a hint of a blueberry on them. The bare stems forlornly bore no more leaves. It was sad but perhaps for the best. I would have been even more disappointed to bring pseudo-blueberries into the world.
01 November 2008
Let's Recreate the Birth Matrix
Birth is an inherently female, feminine process. Through the ages woman alone has given birth. It is only in the modern age, with the gaze of science turned upon her that Birth has been taken into the masculine realm of measurement, logic and engineering. It has been reduced to “Stages of Labor, ” “Progress or Lack of Progress”, and “Labor Management.” Reduced to “Home Like” labor rooms and Pain Relief.
Birth is a transformation—what has been created within is revealed to the world. The woman moves from physiological inner mothering in pregnancy to outer, more deliberate mothering postpartum. The separation begins that leads on to an independent adult. The stamp of culture is imprinted on this adult, beginning with Pregnancy, but most emphatically with Birth.
It’s time to deliberately recreate the Birth Matrix – reweave the rich fabric of the creative process that is birth, into the mantle of womanhood, replacing the thin uniform of the hospital gown.
Through my work as a midwife and mystic the threads of this reweaving have been revealed to me by birthing women, the community of midwives and the inspiration of the Feminine in Her many guises. I wish to share them with you so that we can knit together that which has been unraveled by generations of lost woman-knowledge.
Birth is a transformation—what has been created within is revealed to the world. The woman moves from physiological inner mothering in pregnancy to outer, more deliberate mothering postpartum. The separation begins that leads on to an independent adult. The stamp of culture is imprinted on this adult, beginning with Pregnancy, but most emphatically with Birth.
It’s time to deliberately recreate the Birth Matrix – reweave the rich fabric of the creative process that is birth, into the mantle of womanhood, replacing the thin uniform of the hospital gown.
Through my work as a midwife and mystic the threads of this reweaving have been revealed to me by birthing women, the community of midwives and the inspiration of the Feminine in Her many guises. I wish to share them with you so that we can knit together that which has been unraveled by generations of lost woman-knowledge.
How Pregnancy Grows from the Menstrual Cycle
The menstrual cycle contains the experiences of Maiden, Mother, & Crone within itself. These primordial archetypes of Goddess enliven and inform us of different phases of women’s creative power. Each cycle we are Maiden, made new with the development of possible egg-babies, and with pheromones and fertile mucus for attracting a mate to fertilize them. We are Mother after ovulation, in the phase that prepares and maintains the nurturing womb. And we are Crone when our hormones plummet if pregnancy doesn’t occur, with the emptying of juice and form while filling with subtle, intuitive heart potential.
By bringing awareness & care into the menstrual cycle, we also gain in experience that will serve us if we ever become pregnant. Healthy nutrition, maintaining energetic balance, nurturing herbs, adequate exercise & rest, relaxation practice -- all serve in both situations.
Pregnancy, then, is the fulfilled form of that Mother/luteal phase, when sperm has successfully merged with ripe egg and developing zygote has implanted firmly into receptive uterine lining. It is the long time of nurturing the dream. Even if pregnancy was not planned or desired, it is still the animal dream of the body to reproduce.
Pregnancy, then, is the fulfilled form of that Mother/luteal phase, when sperm has successfully merged with ripe egg and developing zygote has implanted firmly into receptive uterine lining. It is the long time of nurturing the dream. Even if pregnancy was not planned or desired, it is still the animal dream of the body to reproduce.
This extra juicy, growing pregnancy phase fills the body with more blood, more heart, more weight, and bigger feet. An actual inner ocean of amniotic fluid forms within the amniotic sac and our evolving babies swim in it until they are born and land on solid ground. The intimate physical connection between mother and baby is mediated by the amazing multiple functions of the placenta.
The last month of pregnancy is often a time associated with discomforts of being full to overflowing—just as premenstrually many women experience the heaviness of their engorged womb, dropping downward a bit from the change of their hormones.
The emotional changes of the fertility cycle can prepare us for dealing with pregnancy feelings. Women who listen to themselves with awareness and care for themselves adequately find that heightened emotional sensitivity is not necessarily a call to bitchiness (although that too can be useful). It can be an opportunity to hear themselves more clearly in respect to what in their lives serves them & what does not. More alone time is a common need that women easily overlook at other times of their lives which may become more pressing during pre-bleeding & pre-birthing.
Giving birth is an enhanced form of the menstrual phase, when what has been grown inside is now ready to be released, even pushed, out into the world. Women who have experienced the inward, downward pulling of energy during moon bleeding will be familiar with that feeling in its greatly intensified form during labor. Healthy menstrual practices help preserve the balance of this key energy for pregnancy & birth. Those who have experienced menstrual cramps and found ways to come to terms with them will recognize the early labor sensation of the cervix beginning to open as a familiar one, not so scary. This brings the relaxed familiarity to early labor often considered possible only for those who have already given birth.
Allowed a deep inwardness, our instincts can guide our posture & movements and provide safe passageway for our creation, just as women guided inwardly during menses can find the right physical and emotional attitude to menstruate with more ease and grace. As the baby and placenta are released, a great emptiness is created in our body, even as our heart expands with instinctual, hormonal love. We flow with so large a postpartum “menses” as part of that huge emptying and flow with milk as part of that heart expansion.
Learning from and cultivating awareness during our cycles also prepares us for pregnancy and birth. It increases our creative potential as Maiden, Mother, and Crone, whether we ever give birth physically or not.
Learning from and cultivating awareness during our cycles also prepares us for pregnancy and birth. It increases our creative potential as Maiden, Mother, and Crone, whether we ever give birth physically or not.
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