Remembering Where Home Is

Did you ever chant Aum before or after a yoga class?

Once I was reading a poem and said the word Home at the end of it, and realized the resonances with Aum.

Last night on the Academy Awards for motion pictures, the Indian man who won best score for Slum Dog Millionaire talked about the silence before and after Aum. On national TV!

He thanked his teachers, and I wondered if he meant spiritual teachers or musical ones....

in any case, Home is where the heart is, and Heart is where Home is.

believe that you are never far away from your Home, because you carry it with you.

Be at peace, by coming back Home, by paying attention to where the Heart feels best.

have a beautiful day at Home,

nameste,
musemother
www.wordsofpeace.com

Yummy Valentine's Day

Happy Valentine's Day blog readers!

On this bright sunny day, in mid-winter, it helps to have the colour Red be celebrated, to remind us of the heart, the life-giving pulse, the source of oxygen and energy.

And what my Heart is longing for is for me to check in more often and feel what it is longing for.

One day, this week I was lying on my carpet doing some simple yoga postures and listening to Bija, a wonderfully soothing CD.

My thirst for body connectedness and a general feeling of dissatisfaction and winter blahs had lead me to reconnect with body and breath. I didn't know what else to do, since my official escape from winter is only in 2 weeks.

I lay down in the sun on my afghan carpet, soaking in heat and light through the window. It felt good to feel the heat. Let mind focus on breath and movement. Begin to feel the well filling up.

I am not willing to be separate from myself. Bring the focus inside to breath and heart, fuel the fire, the engine, with pure fuel, not garbage (newspaper, TV, books, arguments).

I feel my passivity and crankiness leave.

I feel my heart energy awaken.

I feel thought energy move from negative worry to calm.

I feel self-critical voice shushed, (this is an old habit I can unlearn).

I practice self-awareness, self-love, self-kindness.

I stretch my body and breathe into the temple, the sanctuary of compassion.

I invite all beings close to and from far, to join me in the heart temple.

At first it feels tight, because I am afraid it isn't big enough to hold everyone. Until I remember that is is not my physical heart space or the limits of my body, but the temple is in Kwan Yin's heart, as big as the Universal Heart pumping life into all our beings.

I breathe past the fear I have that if I lie here and do nothing I will turn into a mush ball and never get up and do anything productive again.

I hang out here exploring the 'nothing', this place within, with curiosity and begin to feel acceptance, instead of the ball of anxiety in my solar plexus.

I feel so tired of moving from everyone else's impulse and always responding as if I "have to", as if I am a puppet whose strings are pulled by someone else.

I feel resistance to moving this way anymore. I feel how passive I have been, how disconnected from my own passion.

Here in the heart and hearth of my new home, in a puddle of sunlit warmth, I feel content to not go outside. I feel content to not read any books on all the subjects that have enthralled me. I feel hungry for my own truth.

Where does my candle get lit from, from which fire?

Where does my energy come from, the desire to serve the world? to feel that I am/or have something to give?

I feel content to stay with the question, until the answer comes from within.

Even if I don't know anymore what the goal is, I do know it is no longer outside me.

nameste,

musemother

Random Acts of Beauty

excerpt from Beauty, The Invisible Embrace by John Donoghue

The life journey can be a journey of ascent to beauty. The longing at the heart of attraction is for union with the Beautiful. Not everything in us is beautiful. We need to undertake the meticulous work of clearance and clarification in order that our inner beauty may shine.

...Somewhere in every heart there is a discerning voice. This voice distrusts the status quo. It sounds out the falsity in things and encourages dissent from the images things tend to assume. ...The inner voice makes any complicity uneasy. Its intention is to keep the heart clean and clear.

This voice is an inner whisper not obvious or known to others outside. It receives little attention and is not usually highlighted among a person’s qualities. Yet so much depends on that small voice. The truth of its whisper marks the line between honour and egoism, kindness and chaos....

This faithful voice can illuminate the dark lands of despair. ....Each day in the world, in the prisons, hospitals and killing fields, against all the odds, this still, small voice continues to echo the beauty of the human being.

...Ultimately it is the voice of the soul....When you take the time to draw on your listening-imagination, you will begin to hear this gentle voice at the heart of your life. It is deeper and surer than all the other voices of disappointment, unease, self-criticism and bleakness. All holiness is about learning to hear the voice of your own soul.

Your soul is your true source and a new energy and passion awakens in you. The soul dwells where beauty lives.”

This quote is part of our mini-retreat theme this week, Random Acts of Beauty. The question asked last week was How can I commit two random acts of beauty, one for myself and one for the world (others around me)?

for Valentine's Day, ask yourself what act of beauty you can perform,

nameste

Jenn

aka Musemother

Compassionate Breath

Be still my heart, wherever I am, I am at home with you.
Zulu Chant

Kuan Yin is a buddhist goddess, whose name means She-Who Hearkens to the Cries of the World. As you practice this breath, think of yourself as the embodiment of Compassion.

Begin by sitting on a chair or cushion on the floor with your eyes closed.

Inhale deepy and sigh Ahh as you exhale. Do this 2 more times.

Place your hands over your heart, one on top of the other.

Feel the drumbeat of your pulse and let yourself become absorbed in its rhythm.

Connect to the energy of your heart and imagine it spreading thorugh your body, your arms, legs, torso, head.

Imagine this loving heart energy filling up every cell. Each time you inhale, gather loving heart energy into your heart and palsm.

With every exhalation, spread the energy to all your cells.

Inhaling, collect this healing gift in your heart.

Exhaling, radiate it out to surround yur body with its protection power.

Feel it encompass your whole being, all the way down to your sitting bones.

On the exhale, let the energy flood any parts of your body that feel uncomfortable or tight.

Send your Compassion-infused breath to all parts of you.

From a deep inner smile, let a slight smile light your face.

When you feel complete, return your hands back in your lap.

Notice the connection between your hands and loving heart een when they aren't touching.

Inhale and exhale with a sigh 3 more times.

Now, notice how you feel. Allow your eyes to open very slowly.


Enjoy the day,
nameste
Musemother

ps this exercise is adapted from Yoga for your Spiritual Muscles by Rachel Schaeffer

Flu forces surrender

Careful what you ask for, that's what I say, after a week in bed with the flu, chills, fever, coughing, weakness, aching lungs, and all that fun stuff.

I had been feeling like I needed to surrender the reins for a while, give in to the Universe and its guidance instead of worrying about the future all the time. I remember writing in my journal that I was ready to accept what the fates decree, trust that even if I didn't know what lay ahead, I surrendered needing to know.

My heart wanted to lead the dance, I said, and I would follow any insight from within. I even thought I needed softening.

Well, that prayer was answered. The flu has a way of forcing you to surrender the battle, give up the illusion that you can control your life. One has to give in, lay low and wait for the the germs to give way.

I lay in bed a lot, and rested. I managed to read almost a whole book, in French no less. Gabrielle by Marie Thiverge (sic). And I let my husband do the suppers and drive kids to appointments and feed the cats and dogs. I didn't have the strength to battle with my teenaged daughter over her outings. When the fever slays you, you have to ask for help from those loved ones still standing, and be on good terms with them.

Thank goodness he had his flu shot. I have revised my resolution to never have a flu shot, by the way. It now seems like a huge waste of time to lose a whole week, end up on antibiotics because of fear of infection in the lungs, and cancel all the wonderful activities I had to cancel last week, including my class on Mini-retreats.

But one thing is true, I do feel less belligerent about things. I do feel a small amount of trust in the Universe and my connection to spirit. I may have surrendered a tiny bit, the way feeling weak and tired forces you to give up and let go.

Is this the beginning of a new wisdom? too soon to tell, but I'm glad to be out of my bed, fully dressed, and able to drive again.

As long as I remember it's not just me in the driver's seat,

nameste, keep healthy,
musemother

Life coaching for one

Thoughts on how to be your own best coach:

I was reading Oprah's magazine the other day, a copy in the physiotherapist's waiting room that must have been 2 years old, but the article on women changing career paths couldn't have been more timely.

One woman had recently ditched her day job to buy a trawler, and without knowing anything about boats, took a nine-week training course, and set out for the Maine coast, fulfilling a life-dream to be her own captain. There were some truly awesome inspiring stories.

But the line that stayed with me a week later, was what the coach used to help these women find their passion. He said, sometimes you are already in the ballpark of your best job, but there is some fine tuning to do. You may love design, but hate the deadlines, or prefer working in solitude to working with a team. You have to tease out the parts that make you feel the best. and the parts that you hate. Where are your strengths?

To do this, ask yourself, where do I feel strong? I feel strongest when .... (fill in the blank).

For me, it was this: I feel strongest when I am helping other women find ways to help themselves. I feel strongest when I share information and resources with others. I feel strongest when I am speaking from my calm center.

There are probably some very good coaching books out there - but I haven't read any that didn't seem overwhelmingly complicated, filled with goal setting exercises, which don't appeal to me right now.

I do want to picture myself in the future doing what I love however. One exercise I did with a therapist was very visceral. She had me imagine how I would feel if I continued on the way I am now. Just putting off till tomorrow all of my dreams, reading and writing about them, but not taking any action. Letting fear and depression be my allies. I could physically feel my shoulders getting droopier, my eyes heavy, my insides felt like lead, as I aged visibly in my inner mirror. Until there I was, five years, ten years, then 20 years later, very depressed and ill (a lot like my mother in recent years). That scared me!

Then we did the oppositive exercise. I pictured myself doing what I dream of, leading workshops for women and retreats. I saw their faces as I left the retreat, their happiness, and gratitude for what they had learned. I saw my own face, lit up with gratitude too, and 5 years later, 10 years later, perhaps a book is published, talk shows, touring the world doing retreats for women.

The response in my body was amazingly different. I felt upbeat, happy, light, energized; actually I felt full of light and confident that this was my destiny. The next month I prepared and lead my first all-day retreat, and it was wonderful.

Sometimes we need a coach to help us find our way, to help us believe in our full potential, but sometimes we just need to picture ourselves doing what we love, and then have the courage and patience to let the universe bring it forward, bring us towards it, one step at a time.

nameste
musemother
ps I did also attend a 3 day workshop on Facilitating and Creating Transformational Workshops with Ken Nelson, and found a wonderful resource in the Women's Retreat Book, on the same weekend at Kripalu. The universe helps those who help themselves :)

New Year Check In

First off, happy New Year, to all who have stopped by at this post.

I am not one for resolutions, and am especially irritated by goal setting exhortations from self-help types, so I will not incite you to improve yourself in any way, either by losing weight, eating less fattening food, quitting smoking or joining a gym. I've done all that, and it never lasts very long.

Instead, I am reminding myself today that "I am enough". I happened to be reading my journal from exactly one year ago today, and found an interesting entry. In it, I told myself exactly what I would be doing (before I had made steps to lead retreats) and where my real work lies. This may seem odd to you who know I lead workshops and have written books, and think that I must know what I am doing. But the weird thing is, it hit me only very recently that I am exactly where I need to be, and yes, I have been travelling on this path for some time now.

Having made a big move, built a new house and moved in November, it's been like living in a whirlwind. Once the dust settles, you look around and realize you are not in Kansas anymore. Yet where I am feels more like home than ever before. The gift of this brand new location with vast windows overlooking a white expanse of snowy lake, is that here we start anew. Here we live our dreams, the ones we can't put off any longer, the deeply felt creative life that has been calling.

I have given some thought to what the new year might bring, just not formulated any resolutions. Someone asked me what I wished for the new year at a party. I surprised myself by stating emphatically, Focus and Simplicity.

Perhaps these two words don't mean much to anyone else, but they summed up nicely what I want - more acceptance of what is, less distraction of desiring what I don't have, and generally, just focusing on what's unfolding here and now in front of me. (It's not easy, but it's what I want). Yoga helps bring me to a place of contentment in my body, and helps me focus on the now. Meditation has been bringing me to a place of peace for over 30 years now. But acceptance of what I have has always been a challenge.

So, here is the excerpt from my journal that says it all about where I've been, where I am going, and where I am already:

Questions I ask myself - maybe I am too self-involved (to be a good mother)? Yet, the more balanced I feel, the slower I allow myself to be, for example in accepting Silence and Serenity as allies of the Slow Feminine, the better I feel. I still judge myself too harshly, and sometimes allow the fear of not being busy, outside the house working to confuse me. Yet, I KNOW MY WORK LIES IN THIS INNER WORK OF QUIETING, CENTERING, finding balance. (N.B. CAPS are because I can't believe I need to hear this again to believe it).

My inner research time will bear fruit, with patience; once I can live it, then I can teach or share it. I need to assimilate the self-care message - act it and not only speak about it - first. Find a gentle place to move, speak, and act from, and leave behind the harsh critic. Practice stillness, observe.

So there it is - my own New Year's message to me, written last year on January 8,, yet so timely for today.

Thank goodness for my journal, a rich record of my yearnings, longings, thoughts, passions and passtimes. My own silver mirror to see my deeper self in, as Marion Woodman calls it.

I can look back on the last few years, a somewhat painful journey, that brought me through a menopausal descent, and a resurfacing. A few years of searching, and shifting from writing poetry into working with women in workshops. I feel a sense of excitment about the new adventure, teaching a class entitled Time For You: Mini-Retreats, at the West Island Women's Centre, beginning next Wednesday.

Wish me luck, and if you join my class, we'll explore this gentle inner space together.

nameste,
musemother/jenn

Holiday peace

Hre it is, the five minutes break in the middle of the afternoon, when I pause from writing Christmas cards, running errands, letting the measurers/installers and carpet samplers finish up and leave, and now...here I am at my laptop in front of the window.

It is stark white in front where snow has smothered the lake, dark brown almost black where the island meets the horizon in tree branches, and a glowing pewter mixed with light gray and white with gold touches where the sun lowering itself in the western sky shines through.

Just for moment, the time for 3 birds to wing past my window, then a fourth, there is a calm peaceful feeling.

So this is how it must be, to let the landscape's silence enter, and fill up the cracks and crevices not already filled with busy thoughts and plans and desires. Let the cup fill up with emptiness, yes, the white empty snow.

Now the sky is growing darker, and the silver ball of sun pours out a stronger light.

may the light shine on you, may the inner light be discovered and may the light of love envelope you and yours over this holiday season,

musemother

Snow Day and Mother Daughter Hair Colour

Snow Day: not for the kids, but for me. Heavy snowfall yesterday, freezing rain overnight, and more thick fluffy flakes this morning means, stay at home. Cancel yoga (do some stretches on the rug in my room), a delivery was cancelled too, all smart people stay off the road today (those who can afford to - my husband made it to work, Caitie is at school).

There are days like this when the lake is whited-out, a hazy dark shoreline on the island across from us, a thin open patch of water greyish and closing in, the muffled sound of crows cawing in the big maple, a few workers on a saw below (oh yeah, the shingles are going up in back, slowly but surely).

I was going to say, there are days like this when I remember why we moved here. Believe me, I haven't had much time to look at the lake and enjoy a peaceful cup of coffee or read a book. Still finding boxes of DVD's and video games, or CD's that need unpacking, files that need filing (a huge pile of paid bills), and my closet is full of 'stuff' that I should have given away.

But this morning I am grateful for the snowy slow-down day. Grateful to find a few moments between phone calls and list making (I am an eternal list maker, but still disorganized), to look at the white expanse before me.

Christmas cards have not been sent, the Christmas rush has barely begun, we have a huge open house to show off our new place this Saturday, but today, just for today, and really, all I have is this moment, I am not going to panic, not going to rush left right and center. Just accept the moment, one heartbeat at a time.

I invite you to put aside the list for a moment, and look at your window. Is there a cardinal calling to you? is there a squirrel burying nuts? or is there a blank slate, a white board of fluff, for you to gaze at and relax for a minute.

enjoy the pre-holiday, pre-rush if you can.

musemother
ps I must write to you about discussions with my daughter about hair colour - she's 16 and already streaks her dirty blonde hair with darker brown and lighter highlights. Now she wants to go dark brown! and I say, too much money every 6 weeks, and too much hassle with roots showing and getting it done all the time. Vanity permits me to cover the gray, but why does a 16 year old have to change her colour?

crying at the hairdressers

Renovations, finishing up on house building, workers in my room every morning finishing a closet door panel, shingles, soffits, front door bell, new furniture - it's all very exciting, and very draining. But I'm a trooper, I deal with it all, feed my family (mostly) home cooked meals, and ignore my own books, journals, needs.

Until this week, looking for computer connections and disks, I opened a box in the new office full of boxes of books unopened, and came across one that said Jenn's books, women's spirituality....and my heart went Ah....that's what I have been missing. Time for me, time alone.\

Actually that's the title of the course I'm giving in January - Mini-retreats, Time for You. And of course, I've been so busy with the move and settling in that I've forgotten about me. Skipped yoga to b e here for deliveries, skimp on meditation because the house is full of people at 8 am and my old schedule doesn't work anymore. Can't use the bathtub for a long soak cause there's no curtains (well, since Monday there are, finally!)

I am learning that what I teach is what I need to learn the most. The long ago days of summer when I had lots of time to practise soul collage, colour mandalas, and listen to peaceful music while doing yoga on the floor in my room seem a distant memory.

This morning I escaped the busy house to the hair dresser - Christmas concert is tomorrow, and I need to spruce up. NO make-up on, my face looked tired in the bright mirrors. I was pretty quiet til my hairdresser asked how the house was coming along. After letting out my list of busy week stuff, a tear crept in, and my shoulder started spasming....and I couldn't stop the flow.

It will pass, I said to Patrick, but really, it's just my body and soul crying out for time alone, time for me, time to be with the beautiful view of the lake we moved here for. Lake and sky? oh yeah, right in front of me. Breath and feeling anchored ... oh yeah, right under my nose.

nameste,
jenn

menopause and intuition

it is the most heartening discovery of all, to know that we can actually prepare for menopause. We can use the allies of stillness, softness, serenity and surrender to get closer to our own reality.

I always wondered what intuition was, and most of the time I think I have a knack for it. But sadly, most of the time I am moving too fast to pay attention, pushing myself forward, belting my own back with push strive get going don't rest keep moving kind of messages. Ignoring the sad little voice that says, wait a minute, what about my rhythm, my pacing, my needs? You know that the hardest thing for a woman to do is go pee when she has to? there is always something else to finish first. Multi-tasking is dangerous in menopause, there are bones to break, muscles to twist, but I insist on multitudinous activities - can't cross the kitchen without one more thing in my hand to put away, in spite of sore shoulders I still carry in two heavy bags from the car, instead of making 2 trips.

So, slowing down is a challenge. But when you know the rewards - it's so gratifying, to find your hunches are right, and you stay put and things come to you when you need them. The phone rings, your appointment has been cancelled (that was one too many things in your day) or the delivery has been rescheduled till Monday (yes! I can stay in and finish reading that article).

I found the above paragraphs on a previous blog from earlier this year, and after spending a week settling in to a new house, busy running up and down, up and down, all day, answering phone, email, meeting with insurance evaluators, municipal evaluators, computer service guy, cleaning ladies, and receiving deliveries today, it was good to be reminded that the still, small voice within is still there.

Sigh,
jenn/musemother

moving madness and emptying the nest

For your info, we are moving next Monday, so my office has been packed away into a multitude of boxes too heavy to lift (full of books). My good friend Shelley helped me pack on Friday, or it might have taken me a week just to finish the office. I start reading stuff, deciding whether to throw or keep or recycle......I still have essays from my BA at Concordia (belatedly returned to school in 1986, graduated 1996 with an MA in English).

The house is looking very disorganized with piles of stuff and boxes half open everywhere, as I flit from room to room. I think the best part is finding old kid's drawings or pictures of them in pre-school, and not being able to remember that far back. Was it only 12 years ago we moved here? Now they're bigger than me, and choosing careers, off to university soon (not yet, though, not yet!). A big dose of nostalgia in all these boxes....and a lot of the past to let go of. That seems to be a theme, ever since Kripalu weekend with Marcela Lobos, cutting away the past, letting go of negativity, welcoming the present; welcoming joy. I'm surprised by how joyful I feel about this move.


Three of my sisters came up from Ottawa on Friday to help me pack, (first we sang a lot, and drank a few bottles of wine).... and it's been very comforting to have help, something I never would have asked for, if people hadn't offered. A 5-bedroom house one has lived in for 12 years, and grown 2 kids in collects alot of 'stuff'. The theme is 'empty empty empty' and that's what we're doing - Nova and la Fondation Quebecois, plus a few nephews and nieces are inheriting what can be reused. It's good to know that as we are ending that 'childhood and baby' phase, they are just preparing their nests for future little ones.

Speaking of little ones, I think the cats are starting to wonder if we've taken leave of our senses.....and perhaps they will have a hard time getting used to the new place, so we'll have to keep them indoors for a few days. They love this house, this yard, this cedar hedge full of birds.
We loved it too. The only reason we are moving is for an excellent view of the water and sky....otherwise we would have stayed put. Except for the lake, the cedar shingles, the calmness of the sky in the morning mist. I guess this is a rite of passage too, this letting go of one phase of parenting and where we lived it out, and welcoming the new phase, (almost empty nesters).

So, pardon my absence for a while from this blog, I'll be taping, stuffing, dragging, and re-organizing in the new place until next week......and back at ya, sometime in November.

hasta la vista,
jenn/musemother

Words from the heart

When the heart speaks....

Become quiet
and in that quietness,
a voice begins
to call. I hear,
but not with these ears.

When the mouth is moving,
the heart is silent.
When the mouth becomes silent,
the heart begins to speak.

When my ears are listening
to other sounds,
the heart is quiet.
When those sounds stop, the heart
begins to say what it has to say.

When I dance for the world,
running here and there,
doing this and that,
the heart is silent.

But when I stop -
then the heart begins
to dance

the dance of joy.


adapted from the words of Prem Rawat
by Jennifer Boire

Dear readers, I have been silent on the blog, but my heart has been very active! We had two wonderful visits to Canada from Prem Rawat, also known as Maharaji, on the Words of Peace Global North American tour. Montreal and Toronto were both sold out events, and I was caught in the whirlwind of preparation and conference organizing.

Suffice it to say, that there is no deeper well of wisdom on the planet right now than the words coming from this wonderful man.

I invite you to click on www.wordsofpeace.ca to hear him for yourself, although nothing can compare to seeing him in person.

The gift of knowing how to go within is what he gives, not just words.

enjoy the fall weather, the colours are magnificent, without and within,
musemother

Rites of Passage

Just spent the weekend chanting, drumming, rattling, dancing with Marcelo Lobos at Kripalu, in the Sacred Passages workshop.

Coming home is always interesting - I was in a peaceful state, a kind of 'zone', driving through the mountains with blazing red and yellow colour along the road, with my friend Debra. Then I arrived home to an empty house - everyone had gone out to a hockey game, and left me a note. I noticed the spaghetti sauce I had made was still in the fridge, so I prepared some noodles and ate, before listening to a new CD I'd bought there and falling asleep.

It was a rite of passage weekend for my son, turning 18, and three parties later (Friday night until 4 a.m. at our home) he had a very gravelly voice over the phone when I called on Saturday. My daughter, 16, was even allowed to participate in the party, and all his friends loved her. (News for my son, your sister is a cool person to hang out with!)

So he was drinking, dancing and partying - and I was chanting, drumming and celebrating my womanhood. There were 30 women there, forming a circle, holding the space for each other as we entered the spiral, or danced our darkness away in the fire, or bathed in the lake to wash the past away and welcome the present moment, as well as the future. We dressed up, put make-up on each other and acted 'silly' in some of our old 'mother voices' opinion. We danced until we dropped at 11:30 p.m., after a full day of ceremony. We birthed a new self, said good-bye to an old way of being. We entered the birth spiral to be transformed. And it was good.

We hugged and said good-bye on Sunday, with sparkles on our skin and lavender scenting the room. We thanked Marcela and her helpers for providing the sacred space and the structure to hold us safely as we journeyed. It was very simple, much lighter than I imagined it would be, the warmth of laughter and tears and women's faces holding me up. It was exhausting to dance and sing all day, but how liberating!

And so, back to the home, the cooking of meals, the washing of clothes, the keeping of sacred space inside this smaller circle of four. I feel different. I feel closer to the seasons, to the fall, to mother earth, pacha mama. I feel more. And that's a blessing.

happy new year to those celebrating Rosh Hashanah,
musemother

Women's mysteries

I am off this weekend for a special workshop with Marcela Lobos at Kripalu Centre in Mass. It's called Sacred Passages - here's a brief description.

In this weekend with medicine woman Marcela Lobos, you will move through the stages of the journey from maiden to mother to sage in a conscious and sacred way. You will participate in and explore all the passages of the sacred feminine, from puberty to menopause, learning to gracefully enter your years as a wise elder. Women at all stages of life are invited to come discover a more fulfilling and authentic experience of yourself and your life journey.

Can't wait to come back and tell you all about it. Should be something very useful on both a personal level and for my future workshops with women.

All I know so far is we need to embrace our feminine cycle, our women's mysteries with curiosity, reverence and compassion for ourselves. Any symptoms or energy blockages are really messages from our bodies, signals that we must tune in to and listen to to discover the underlying truths, our real story, written in the body.

Let's free the wild woman within, the naturally, spontaneous lover of life, the balance seeker, the true voice - unsilence the wisdom, let it speak up and give our lives their true meaning.

I'm looking forward to this new adventure, and promise to share it with you on this blog.

take care now,
musemother

ps a wink and a nod to all those participants at the Lecture last Tuesday - I appreciate your coming out to hear more about the feminine mysteries, and for joining the circle to share your stories

Menstrual shame, body shame and sexuality

Cycles of shame: menstrual shame, body shame, and sexual decision-making

(an article about how our view of our body, our view of the menstrual cycle and our experiences around sexuality are linked)

from the Journal of Sex Research, Nov, 2005 by Deborah Schooler

Although menstruation is a natural, reproductive process, it bears a strong cultural taboo that commands that it not be seen, discussed, or in most ways, acknowledged (Kissling, 1996a; Roberts, 2004). This desire to keep menstruation secret is often paired with an attitude that menstruation is dirty and disgusting (Martin, 1996; Roberts). Many girls report shame about being seen with a menstrual product or, worse yet, about bleeding through clothing, and some adolescent girls report that they are embarrassed simply by the fact that they menstruate (Lee & Sasser-Coen, 1996; Kissling, 1996b; Roberts). These feelings are likely compounded by media portrayals of menstruation as a hygienic crisis (Havens & Swenson, 1988; Raftos, Jackson, & Mannix, 1988; Simes & Berg, 2000).

Shame about menstruation is often extended to the vagina and its surrounding areas, which are considered by many women to be unspeakable and upleasant (Braun & Wilkinson, 2001; Lee & Sasser-Coen, 1996; Reinholtz & Muehlenhard, 1995). Participants in Lee and Sasser-Coen's (1996) qualitative study spoke of menarche as an experience that "contaminated" their bodies, and their genitals in particular. Despite recent attempts to celebrate the form and function of women's anatomy, such as Eve Ensler's "Vagina Monologues," and the growing comfort some women have with their bodies, it is still common for women to feel shame about their bodies, to use euphemisms so as to avoid naming their genitals (Braun & Kitzinger, 2001), or to experience confusion about the makeup of their external genitalia (Kirby, 1998). What are the implications of feeling shame about menstruation and the body? Conversely, might women's comfort with menstruation promote well-being in other areas of their lives?

This study considers how shame about menstruation is related to sexual decision-making. Because menstruation and sexual activity often share the same intimate location on women's bodies, shame regarding menstruation might influence a woman's general approach to her sexuality. Furthermore, girls are often socialized to connect menstruation with sexuality. Many girls first learn about menstruation in sex education classes, where both menstruation and sex are presented as means to the end of procreation (Martin, 1987).

At the same time, much of early mother-daughter communication about sex focuses on menstruation (e.g., O'Sullivan, Meyer-Bahlburg, & Watkins, 2001), and likewise, much early communication about menstruation and menarche focuses on the emerging sexual potential inherent in a developing woman's body (Lee & Sasser-Coen, 1996). Because of these connections, girls' and women's attitudes about menstruation might shape their developing beliefs about sexuality and the sexual decisions they make, even when they are not menstruating.

read more (long article, another 19 pages): http://findarticles.com/p/articles/mi_m2372/is_4_42/ai_n15929177/pg_3?tag=artBody;col1

September Nights

A short story

September is a month of abundance - flowers, foliage, full moon...and tonight the pale orange Harvest Moon looms large on the horizon – Katie and I are in the back yard at dusk. "Let’s write a story about the moon wearing a Pumpkin mask for Halloween," I say. "It should be in October, that pumpkin moon, shouldn’t it, mom?" says Katie. With cooler nights yet still warm days, September sun gilds the air. Brown-eyed Susans, purple coneflower and pink-tinged hydrangea are drooping under the weight of such fullness (a bumper crop, a bellyful of flowers, if we could eat them).

The garden this time of year is riotous with purple Sage battling the cucumber vines growing up the cedar hedge, and something brown I thought was yarrow. The garden is too full of bees buzzing so my girl won’t dine outdoors. ‘But it is the best season, the finest weather’, I say, but she refuses to eat on the patio.

‘Come join me on the swinging chair,’ I call to her now, but she only alights a moment, jumping over the wet grass in her pristine white socks, then flits over to the trampoline. Ugh, a fat spider sits weaving. She screams and goes indoors.

‘Mom, you are my idol,’ she says later that night when I invite her into my bed for a snuggle. When I ask why, she says ‘because you have everything I want – a nice house, two kids (gorgeous kids like me) and a good looking husband’ (he is cute, isn’t he, I said) ‘and you’re so full of love’ – (‘Oh, but I whisper under my breath, you will be less cranky and impatient than me.’ ‘Yes, of course’, says she.)

Kissing Katie good-night is never short and quick -- she kisses my left cheek, then my right cheek, reaches up and places her arms around my neck in a deadlock, plants another kiss on my lips then up to 30 more kisses if I let her -- all over my face. Butterfly kisses with eyelashes, Eskimo kisses with noses rubbing. Nine-year-olds are good kissers. Sometimes I get impatient and want to get to my own bed where glorious sleep will envelope me. Sometimes I sing, K-K-K Katie, beautiful Katie....

Her other favourite drawing-out-bedtime routine is “Guess how much I love you mommy?” where we outdo each other with incredible numbers – as many as there are stars in the sea, as many as the blades of grass in the whole planet, as much as the distance from the earth to the moon. This usually goes on for as long as I can stay awake, standing in the doorway with one foot out the door, or until my exhaustion starts to show and I try to ease out with a quick good-night.

Earlier in the swinging chair, I had bowed my head, tired after battling insomnia the night before, and said a silent prayer of forgiveness to my mother, having suddenly come face to face with my own similar shortcomings – and not having the heart anymore to condemn us both to coldness and bad feelings for the rest of her life. Thus, I assuage my guilt about being a rebellious teen-age daughter, and hope my prayers for her happiness will ensure my own happiness, and that of my daughter as she enters the pre-teen years.

Just for tonight, I let myself be cajoled and held by Katie. I know she fears being alone at night in her own bedroom. Even though she is supposedly big enough to sleep alone, I am too tired to fight her off and send her back to her room. All day she has wooed me in a flurry of drawings, poems and scribbled notes on scraps of paper: Je t’aime maman! Passionate, headstrong Taurus foil to my passionate, stubborn Scorpio. So just for tonight, I let her stay a bit longer, hug her and tell her that she’s gorgeous!

By the time she’s fourteen, I know those kisses will be rare. We'll be missing that abundance.

Life's Quest

There are two quests in my life. The questing girl seeks a connection she already has but has not been aware of - the deep knowledge of the feminine way, a woman's way in the world. A way of knowing and being that is not based on outer knowing only, or facts and logic, but is whispered to her just before she acts, take this road, choose this way. Without knowing company is coming, she sweeps the kitchen floor and changes into finer clothes, and within 10 minutes the phone rings, mother-in-law with guests on the way over in half-an-hour. S

Sometimes she knows who is calling before the phone stops ringing.

She doesn't always listen.

The other quest is on the inside too, but has no real name. It's not a labyrinthine journey, it's a thirst. The heart that is human, partly divine, partly mortal, seeks it's other half - it's Beloved or best Friend. The one who knows, the one who doesn't speak in theory, but who knows the joy of living. For no reason, for no external purpose. Fulfillment, you could call it. Just receiving with open arms, accepting the gift of life and knowing a deeper purpose - gratitude, kindness, peace.

Could it be that the quester has the answer inside her all the time? like the story of the musk deer who seeks the source of the musk, thinking it is in another musk deer....

Recently I heard this:

Think of life like this: It is your opportunity to spend time with the best friend you ever had. It is your time. This chance to be with the ultimate clarity that there is in this whole universe. It is your chance to spend time with the ultimate kindness. It is your chance to spend time with the infinite. It is your chance to spend some time with the ultimate joy.

What a turn around from my conditioning of life as struggle, life as 'comme ci comme ca', life as teacher that you can't always get what you want.

A chance to spend time with the ultimate joy?

best,
musemother

Feminine Mysteries book list

Kathleen, a recent reader of musemother, gave me a great idea today. So I am posting the resource list of books from my class on the Feminine Mysteries. It's been a wonderful journey of over twenty years of reading....so don't try and read them all at once. Pick one that appeals to you....sends a tingle down your spine...

Most of the books are either entertaining, informative and/or inspiring. I would love to hear from you if you have a book that should go on the list. (Most are non-fiction but I've included the novels that explore the world of the feminine mysteries in an evocative way).

Adam, Eve and the Serpent, Elaine Pagels (Gnostic Gospels)
A Woman’s Journey to God, Joan Borysenko
Blood, Bread and Roses, Judy Grahn (how menstruation created the world)
Daughters of Copperwoman, Anne Cameron (Native Canadian myth/stories)
Descent of Inanna, Sylvia Perrera (in depth discussion of myth by a Jungian analyst)
From Eve to Dawn, A History of Women in the World, Marilyn French
Her Blood is Gold, Lara Owens
Longing for Darkness, China Galland, (seeking the Black Madonna)
Inanna, myths of ancient summer, Kim Echlin (poetry/story format with artwork)
Mary Magdalene, The Bride in Exile, author?
Menopause, Initiation into Power, Joan Borysenko (4 cd set from Sounds True)
Out of the Garden, Women Writers on the Bible, ed Buchanan and Spiegel
Pathways to Bliss, Mythology and Personal Transformation, Joseph Campbell
Reclaiming Goddess Sexuality, Linda E. Savage, Ph. D.
Shakti Woman, Feeling our Fire, healing our World, Vicki Noble
Sister Moon Lodge, The Power & Mystery of Menstruation, Kisma K. Stephanich
The Birth House, Ami MacKay (novel)
The Blessings of the Curse, no more periods? Susan Rako, M.D.
The Chalice and the Blade, Riane Eisler, * symbols in antiquity
The Change, Germaine Greer
The Crone, woman of Age, wisdom and power, Barbara G. Walker
The Divine Feminine, Anne Baring and Andrew Harvey (see website)
The Goddesses and Gods of Old Europe, Myths and cult Images, Marija Gimbutas
The Goddess Obscured, Transformation of Grain Protectress, Pamela Berger
The Golden Bough, J.G. Frazer (A Study in Magic and Religion)
The Gospel of Mary Magdalene, Jean-Yves Leloup, translated from the Coptic. 2002.
The Great Mother, Erich Neumann, (psychoanalyst, lots of great photos of statues)
The Hebrew Goddess, Raphael Patai
The Heroine’s Journey, Maureen Murdoch (Woman’s quest for wholeness)
The Language of the Goddess, Marija Gimbutas
The New Book of Goddesses and Heroines, Patricia Monaghan's Llewellyn, 1997.
The Red Tent, Anita Diamant (biblical fiction, rituals described in pre-Hebrew times)
The Sacred Hoop, Recovering feminine in American Indian Traditions, Paula Gunn Allen
The Silent Passage, Gail Sheehy (menopause)
The Secret Wisdom of a Woman’s Body, Pat Samples
The Song of Eve, Manuela Dunn Mascetti (feminine archetypes)
The Power of Myth: “The Gift of the Goddess”, Joseph Campbell
The Penelopiad, Margaret Atwood (rewriting of Odysseus’ return)
The Return of the Great Goddess, ed. Burleigh Muten (poems and artwork)
The Unknown She, Eight faces of an emerging consciousness, Hilary Hart
The Vagina Monologues, Eve Ensler
The Wild Genie, Alexandra Pope, The Healing power of menstruation
The White Mare, The Dawn Stag, Jules Watson (fiction, Celtic priestesses)
The Wise Wound Myths, Realities, and Meanings of Menstruation, Penelope Shuttle and Peter Redgrove Bantam Books, 1990The Women’s Encyclopedia of Myths and Secrets, Barbara Walker
Understanding the Old Testament, Bernhard W. Anderson.
Urgent Message from Mother, Jean Shinoda Bolen
When God was a Woman, Merlin Stone
Woman at the Edge of Two Worlds, The spiritual journey through menopause, Lynn V. Andrews
Woman’s Mysteries, Esther Harding (Jungian analyst, written in 1930's)
Woman, an Intimate Geography, Natalie Angier
Women who Run with the Wolves, Clarssa Pinkola Estes,
Women’s Bodies Women’s Wisdom, Dr. Christian Northrup
Women of the 14th Moon, writings on menopause, ed Dena Taylor, A C Sumrall

Poetry:
In Her Words, anthology of poetry about Great Goddess, ed Burleigh Muten
Claiming the Spirit Within, sourcebook of women’s poetry by theme

back to school

It's not fair! it's still summer, the cicadas are buzzing, it's hot and the pool is empty. My girl has begun last year of high school (sec 5 in Quebec, Gr 11 elsewhere); my son has started 2nd year of Cegep (2 yrs of college pre-university). They've bought their books, and binders and pens, their favourite pencil leads, done their own laundry, shopped for new clothes (altho thank god the school uniform from last year still fits, and the shoes!)

My tall gorgeous daughter who loves to dance, doing all kinds of auditions, stressed about getting on to the competition teams in hip hop or jazz ballet....beginning an Ayurvedic diet this week to help her bones and her health.

My tall gorgeous son who is driving himself wherever he needs to go, buying his own textbooks, marvelling at the cost of things. Booking his own orientation counsellor appointments, figuring out his next steps, without much advice or help from us.

And I am at home, negotiating, organizing, getting estimates, approving prices, buying furniture, planning our first major move in 12 and a half years, since the beginnings of grade school for my son. Packing up the likes of a five bedroom house, and emptying all its cupboards (soon, very soon).

All I want to do is lounge by the pool, savour the heat. Fall coming usually inspires me into action, but the crisp cool days are not here yet. We are jumpstarted into fall with school schedules, but far from sweater and loafer days.

sigh, this menopausal cycle is spiralling me inwards and out of words.

I love my collages, the cards I am making, the pastel colouring I do occasionally. And I love looking at the clouds. The dreamer in me wakes. The sky is my companion. and the sound of Om resonating from my stereo grounds me and soothes my agitated mind.

too much thinking makes the system acid, said the ayurvedic consultant. OK, maybe singing, swimming and meditating will make me more alkaline.....

happy weekend,
musemother