Finding My Way

Simple Magic: Egglantine saying "beep" into a camellia

Simple Magic: Egglantine "beeps" into a camellia.

If you’ve been reading this blog for awhile you may have sensed that I’ve been working really hard to find my place in the world. Really, really hard. Well, actually, the struggle has been in knowing the actual story and dream I’m here to live, and not being able to find a form that will help me do so in an effective way, in a true way. I was once described in a review of my harp music as “endlessly creative”, and for several years that phrase seemed like a curse rather than a blessing! I love creating and inventing my life, but the past decade has been something of a tormented tussle of finding where and how I can truly live my real magic in the real world and make a real difference–in the lives of the people around me, but also in the big, wide world, for our dear Earth Island Home.

I’ve played with ideas and forms and abandoned following them forward, because they haven’t felt like they truly fit me. That somehow the sleeves were wrong, or the shirt bunched in a funny way, or I kept tripping in my shoes. I could have taken up the bardic storytelling and harping in full glory, but … big concert performances don’t fire me anymore. I could be mentoring parents and kids in the magic of nature, but I don’t want to lead games and manage a weekly program (or a monthly program, or whatever). I could just write children’s fantasy fiction–but I want to mentor girls into living real magic in our own everyday lives. I really, really want to offer my own mix of healing and mentor women into nature connection, and their own true nature connection, nurturing them to become wise women, clan mothers, elders/grandmothers–so desperately needed in our world and culture. But I hadn’t found that point of connection, where it matters and makes a difference in the immediate lives of these women. Where we can start conversing, where I see: oh, this is what you’re struggling with right now, and here’s how I can help. And by the way, here’s something that might nourish you too, some ideas to play with, play in–what do you think? And the conversation goes from there, and a song emerges, and a story unfolds.

In truth, I want to do all of these things in some way–and especially the last one, and in some way the one just before that. My struggle has been finding the outfit that fits just right, that is simple, easy, natural, exciting. A “small is beautiful” expression that just lets it all shine. One that focuses my intent and belief, and gives my creativity a fun little playground, so that I can actually both do and be, and not go crazy anymore with the over-abundance of possibilities. One that actually infuses my home life and the magic I want to live in my everyday (or return to living), because I tell you, this journey has been so consuming, that I don’t feel I’ve truly been able to live my talk, except in plops and smears.

Now, when I think of other women who are consumed by their concerns (whether it’s a personal or health crisis or a desperate soul quest or the realities of work) who feel they aren’t truly living their values in their everyday lives, I have wayyyyy more compassion with who and where they are. I see that they (you?) are truly living your passionate life of connection in those plops and smears. And that we in our time (and in any time?) are a bundle of seeming contradictions. I believe in the essential need for us all to deeply connect with the natural world, and be outside soaking in that lively, diverse, intricate tapestry that is our community and birthright–of which we are designed as human beings to be active, engaged citizens–and yet our family at this time spends hours a day on the computer, engaging in our connection with others and our passions and our creativity. This is not a bad thing, but i do feel we are out of balance.

Still, we pass time with our chickens in our suburban backyard, and we nurture a pocket garden that gifts us with greens, flowers, and sugar snap peas (yes, in November!), and we are with each other most of the time. Arguing or companionable, learning or creating, doing the work (at least in fits and bits) that needs to be done here.

In my tussle with self and expression and yearning to connect, I’ve realized that–as with our family’s search for home–I have to just decide. No, not decide on just anything. But choose from among the possibilities for the one where I can truly be home. A surprisingly difficult thing to do! After struggling with trying to live in a new place (NE Oregon), and realizing we would be living in an old place (San Francisco Bay Area), and no longer wanting to search and quest for a different home place altogether, I made a decision. I love my island, I love the community and the landscape. I am free to be myself in all my goofiness and experiments there. And I believe it can be good for our family again. We even knew of a property there that we knew was just right for us, after all our wandering (I’ll have to write about all this another time). Yes there were ifs, ands, and buts (especially since at the time, members of my family weren’t so firmly convinced they wanted to do this), but in the end I decided that after our stint in the Bay Area, I wanted us to return to Vashon. I didn’t want to wander anymore, I didn’t want to entertain other possibilities–in California, or Canada, or New Zealand …. I just wanted to be home. In a place I knew and loved, and which nourished my soul and imagination, where we were in intimate relationship with the trees, plants, birds, a particular terrain already in a particular corner of the world, one which offered us the right form of playground in which we could return to our semi-sustainable lifestyle and carry ideas and dreams further.

It’s the same thing with my biz. I just want to be home, and not scattered here and there, trying to work this strand or that, or thinking that I “should” work up a harp performance, or start a song community movement or any other thing. Certain expressions in my past ten years have been simple and joyful. Certain others have been ones I returned to again and again (that children’s book, for one). It’s plain and simple what the true form is. The other threads are not quite in alignment, but if I relax into that little shining place where it is clear and sweet and true, really that changes everything. Why not just claim this little place as my own, and discover how all those other stars constellate into alignment as a result? Hm.

To Be (or not to be) Continued ….

A view of the land

A view of our land. No, really, it's practically in town.

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Simple Magic 2: Lord Firestar -- great noble rooster of kind hearts

El Dia De Los Muertos

dayofdeadbadgeWelcome to the Day Of The Dead Blog Fest, hosted by Kara L.C. Jones at MotherHenna! Please step inside …

Bienvenidos a mi Fiesta!

Viva La Musica - art by Jane Valencia
“Viva La Musica” – art by Jane

As you can see, la arpista is offering an exuberant music.  You can’t help but feel like dancing!

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Winter Calendula

Outside, the calendula offer their sunny spirit and healing magic.

In a past year my friends and I prepared this ofrenda

For the children

Altar por los angelitos

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... with calendula and tamales

We welcomed, celebrated, and nourished los angelitos — the children who passed on in the womb, birthed still, or passed on in youth.

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Sugar skulls and calendula

We decorated sugar skulls in honor of los angelitos, and offered them as well.

This year mi familia honors our animal friends who have passed on.

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Silly the hamster

Amri’s pet when she was a wee lass.

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Puff

Known as Mildred until we moved into the neighborhood, Puff was an abundantly loving and extremely furry little cat who came with the purchase of our house when we lived on the island.

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Spooker Bear

Our sweet cat Spook was a harper!  When she was hungry, she wrapped her teeth around the lowest strings of my harp, and sounded some notes.  Spook also followed us on family walks).  In the above photo she follows Amri and me into the forest.

Below are three White Wyandottes, bought as chicks to be raised for meat for our family.  We actually ended up selling these cockerels to another family (who did indeed eat them–they had too many roosters to keep these guys as well).  We try not to get attached to our cockerels, knowing we can’t keep them, but we thought that, with all their white feathers, these guys looked like little angels!

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Sickly - a White Wyandotte cockerel

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Squee - another White Wyandotte cockerel

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Red Hat - a White Wyandotte cockerel

Red Hat was our favorite of the ‘dottes.  He was just starting to crow when we sold him–his crow sounding like the whistle of a tea kettle.

When you love chickens as much as we do, and have a flock (or two) it can be pretty painful when the ways of nature and life and death move through.  This year we lost seven birds for various reasons.

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Mouse - a Black Gourmet hen

Mouse was one of the meat birds that we adopted to be laying hens.  Our first real winter–living in NE Oregon–may have been hard on Mouse, who wheezed at times and was not of the most vigorous health.

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Cheeseball - a Red Ranger hen

The winter was hard on Cheeseball as well.  Mouse was a bit of a nasty hen to some of the other chickens (we called her Bellatrix La Mouse) but Cheeseball was always stolid and kid.  She nestled on the ground with Bluestar, our lame hen, on those snowy cold nights.  Bluestar couldn’t get up to the roosts to perch.

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Quackstar - a wild Mallard duck

Quackstar sped into our lives as a small duckling, and flew away one day as a young adult.  We hope that he is still alive somewhere out here–perhaps enjoying a good life near the Baylands, or at some pond in someone’s backyard or in a city park.  But we don’t expect to ever see him again.  Farewell, Quackstar!

The difficult part about raising chickens is (for us) taking action regarding the cockerels (young roosters).  In a suburban home with a small backyard, close neighbors, and municipal codes you just can’t keep a bunch of roosters.  And, really, you can’t have three roosters in a small flock anyway.  Too hard on the hens, and things can get nasty.  We tried to find homes for these little lads, but failing that, we had to end their lives.

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Gold - a Serama cockerel

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Black (in foreground) and Knight (in background) - two Serama brothers

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Black - the nicest and most handsome of the Serama brothers

Farewell, Knight, Black, and Gold — may you find your flock and yummy fields in another realm!

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Trespassers - our Partridge Cochin hen

Our flock of laying chickens lives in Washington, while we live our year in the San Francisco Bay Area.  Alas, our beautiful Tres passed away a few weeks ago from egg-binding (she was unable to lay an egg).  She wasn’t all that personable as our chickens go, but I loved her gorgeous fiery pine-cone like feathers and her feathered feet.

Thank you for coming to our home and celebrating with us.  Please feel free to pick up one of the cards below to remind you of the rambunctious nature of life and death with one another, and of the music of those who have touched our hearts, or who even now rest in our hearts–a music that sounds, sings, and dances beyond the bounds of what we think we know.

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Day Of The Dead Artist Collaboration Cards by Jane

Miracles Continue: Meet Egglantine!

Lady Sandstorm (right) and her new chick, Egglantine (peering from the left)

Lady Sandstorm (right) and her new chick, Egglantine (peering from the left)

As Amri has chronicled in Plain Old Chickens, her Serama hen Lady Sandstorm went broody several weeks ago. We managed to leave one of her eggs alone before she stopped laying, and began her long sit. We really didn’t know what to expect of the egg. For one thing, Lady Sandstorm has never struck us as particularly maternal. For another, several times, when she dashed off from the egg to indulge in (necessary!) dust baths and eating and drinking, she seemed not in a great hurry to wander back. Then there was the time several days ago when Lord Firestar was sitting with Lady Sandstorm and neither of them were sitting on the egg. When Amri touched the egg it was cold. We left the egg with Lady S., but silently prepared ourselves for what seemed likely to be a dead chick.

So what a surprise yesterday morning to hear tiny peeps and then see that sweet yellow head peering out from underneath Lady Sandstorm! I am astounded again by the simple extraordinary miracle of new life. We’ve had our anxious moments, when we heard no peeping, and hadn’t seen any chick activity for some time (and what was that reddish brown strain on Lady S’s feathers?), but then little Egglantine peered out again, and Lady S guided her to the water, showing her how to drink. Lady Sandstorm is actually a very fine (if driven!) mom!

Egglantine’s six siblings (three girls, three boys) are all alive and well (for the time being). The cockerel Knight (who has lovely feathering) is starting to crow, reminding us that we must not get attached to the boys. We just can’t keep them! If you’re interested in raising a Serama (miniature chicken) cockerel, please contact us! We’d love for them to go to good homes!

Our Serama chicks as "adolescents"

Our Serama chicks as "adolescents" -- not so little anymore, yet not entirely grown up.

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