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Talespinner

January 30, 2011

“If you are a dreamer, come in.  If you are a dreamer, a wisher, a liar, a hoper, a prayer, a magic-bean-buyer. If you’re a pretender, come sit by my fire, for we have some flax-golden tales to spin.  Come in! Come in!” – Shel Silverstein

 

moon lanternsIt’s taken until age 36, but I think I have finally remembered who I am.  I say remembered because when it came to me I knew I had known it all along, but had put it away somewhere and forgotten all about it like a once-treasured doll now gathering dust on a shelf.

The process of remembering started last summer with the gentle knowledge of my Style Statement brought on during my participation in Jamie’s Circe’s Circle.  During that time, Jamie also helped me to claim that I was indeed a writer, something I had not fully claimed before.

Then last week a book came in the mail and when I opened it and read just one paragraph I remembered a little bit more.  It was not just about writing, but about stories – ancient stories – but it still didn’t feel complete.  I am not and have never been a storyteller.

And then yesterday two things happened simultaneously: I had to write a bio for a guest post and I joined Jamie’s Year of Dreams circle and had to introduce myself.  Bios scare me, so I decided to sleep on it.  This morning I woke really early with a voice running through my head. “If you are a dreamer, come in…” I have carried this poem with me ever since I read it the first time. I had it pinned to the outside of my bedroom door when I was about 12,  I wrote it on the wall of the craft centre I managed and I’ve scribbled it in nearly every quote or notebook I have.

“…for we have some flax-golden tales to spin…”  and I remembered who I was.

So this morning the first thing I wrote was this:

“Last night I struggled to write a bio for a guest post I am doing on a friends’ blog and this morning I woke up with a new word for the bio: Talespinner.  I’m not even sure it’s a real word, but it felt dangerous and magical and it feels more like the kind of writer I am aspiring to be. I write books that take ancient stories and wisdom and make them resonate with a contemporary audience.  I want people reading my words to feel like they are sitting beside a campfire at the knees of their ancestors hearing stories that help them make sense of their modern lives.”

So there it is.  Finally.

Yes.

xo

emerge, Sacred Feminine, whimsy, Wild Woman

to the edge

October 10, 2010

“I don’t think most people go to the edge of anything.” – Caroline Myss

 

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A little while ago I accidentally went alone to an Enchanted Palace.  When I set off in the morning on a solitary adventure, I had no idea that it would take a fairy tale to wake this sleeping beauty.

I have often been told that my expectations are too high.  When your expectations are too high you are inevitably disappointed when the reality does not live up to them.  Arriving at the palace on this day, however, I had no expectations.  I had made the decision to spend the day following whispers and as I got on the tube at Paddington Station, I noticed the poster for the exhibition at Kensington Palace.  As a notice counts as a whisper, that’s where I decided to go next.

The exhibition was absolutely charming, but all I could think as I wandered through the rooms was that I wanted more.  Bigger, more magical, more whimsical, more intriguing possibilities filled my imagination.  They had given me a fairy tale, but I wanted to add fairy dust.  I wanted to emerge from the other side with twigs in my hair and feet sore from dancing, with a whiff of spices tangled in my clothes and a faraway look in my eye.

Standing in the park afterward I realized that it’s not that my expectations are too high, it’s that my perception of the possibilities is enormous.  There, beside a lake in London, the ‘aha’ hit me: however big my belief in shining possibilities, there is the necessary knowledge of dark ones.  One thrills and the other frightens, so I have spent much of my adult life wishing for one but preparing instead for the other and ending up somewhere in the middle.  I have tried to want less fairy dust, but instead of being happier I ended up with cobwebs.

Blinders slipping, feet planted, hair tangled, I am getting closer and closer to the edge.  I can feel it coming.  Sacred and feminine have been showing themselves to me bit by bit, and I know things are changing.  I am no longer afraid of disappointment because I know that I am a grown up and that the magic is in my control.  I am no longer interested in becoming a princess or living happily ever after: I want more.

(A lot more.)

xo

emerge, sacred, Sacred Feminine, spirituality

Reclaiming Sacred

July 19, 2010

“What is it that I deeply know, but have been afraid to live like it is so?” Neale Donald Walsch

 


Picture by hippy urban girl

This summer I am part of something called, “Circe’s Circle” run by life coach Jamie Ridler.  In the call last week I was talking about how hard it was for me to be proud of the work that I am doing.  One of the other women suggested to me that I needed to come up with a new word to use to describe myself, since when I used the phrase, ‘woo woo’ I had lots of trouble owning it.

As soon as I let myself process that, the word sacred popped into my head like a big Las Vegas casino sign, and I was drawn to get the book Style Statement off of my shelf.  It is a workbook aimed at helping you to define your authentic self.  I thought when I worked through the exercises a couple of years ago that I had come up with mine, but as it hadn’t stuck, I thought it was just another thing I had failed at.  As it turns out, I simply hadn’t got it right the first time.

Reading the definition of sacred, I felt like it was finally right.  Woo woo doesn’t convey the depth of connection or feeling that I have when I am working or feeling or noticing who I am.  Sacred feels richer and heavier and more… well… sacred somehow.  But that wasn’t the end of it.  As I read through the definitions of the other words, I got stuck on feminine.  Now I would usually have skipped right over that word, but that night something clicked deep in my core.

“Sacred Feminine,” I whispered, actually wondering why it felt so familiar before realizing that it is only the thing that I have written a whole book about.  The two words hum together in my head, equal parts who I am, what I believe and what I most need to embrace.

Most staggeringly of all, I explored all of this in my journal on my trip to Bath yesterday, and ended up rushing to finish in time to get off of the train.  When I sat down in Starbucks to wait for my girlfriends to arrive, I opened up my journal again and read the last thing I had written on the train: “… because now I know who I am.”  I don’t even remember remember writing it, but it gives me goosebumps to read.

So there it is.  I’ve given up woo woo for its deeper, richer cousin.  For better or for worse, I am officially reclaiming sacred, and you know what? It feels really, really good.

(This post got too long to go into what Sacred and Feminine mean to me – thank you for reading this far, I’ll tell you more another time!)

xo