Animal, vegetable, mineral instinct

Sorry about the delay- we got busy preparing for the New England Folk Festival and related visits, but now I'm back. Last Wednesday we drove to Boston, staying in Brookline with good friends Michael and Lizbeth, and dining Weds. with our friend the wonderful violin dealer Reggie Williams. Thursday was spent visiting my old alma mater, Boston University's College of Fine Arts, and bending the knee at the Haynes Flute Company. Friday we headed further south, our ultimate destination Mansfield, Mass. and the New England Folk Festival.

Before diving into the musical weekend, we took a brief detour to the Attleboro/Seekonk line to visit one of my former sacred places, Seven Arrows Herb Farm. This was not a carefully considered and planned trip; I just knew it was a necessary stop, and so we made the trip with no plans or expectations other than simply to see it. But the moment I stepped from the car in the shaded parking lot I knew I had been following an inner compulsion that was part of a larger experience I'd been having ever since leaving Tam Lin on Wednesday. Again and again my instinct had been taking me over familiar territory of my past, where I could view old scenes with new eyes. Seven Arrows was an oasis of sorts, as it had been 15 and more years ago when I lived and taught in Mansfield. Here was where I first recognized and named my deep, life-long connection to the natural world, here was where I connected with wise, kind and yes, fun teachers and friends who looked at gardening as a spiritual practice, here was where I was invited to lead a monthly song circle and thus discovered my ability to draw out the singing voices of others.

After pausing to look around, breathe and smile, I tentatively stepped inside the shop. At first I recognized no one, but a kind member of the staff, Linda, offered to look for Mich and Judy, the proprietors. The next thing I heard and saw was Judy's delighted face and voice and enveloping arms: "Allison!!" The next half hour was a joyful reunion, catching each other up on 15 years and watching Hunt and Judy get acquainted. We then walked around, soaked up the wonderful vibrations of the place, chatted with Mich, bought their book, and headed to Mansfield and another trip down memory lane (for another musing).



This visit had enormous impact, not only for the sense that I was gathering in fragments that had been dangling for nearly 15 years, bringing them full circle to experience a new wholeness, but also for the awareness that once again, instinct had led me to this place in such a matter-of-fact way that it felt fluid, complete. Again and again in my life I have felt a "knowing", or a "leading", telling me "this is the way, walk in it" (Isaiah 30:21). Following this instinct feels like the most natural thing in the world. It comes in the little and big decisions, and I never feel any fear or anxiety when I act according to it, knowing in my deepest heart that it is the way I should go.

I think we all have access to this inner wisdom- it just requires paying attention and sometimes taking a leap of faith. I've met many people, often women and young girls (usually it starts around the age of 9 or so and never leaves them) who have no sense of trusting their inner voice. They are so anxious to please, to serve, to meet some kind of standard imposed on them, that they have shut off that inner hearing. I suppose men have this, too, but I haven't known as many men with this lack of trust in themselves. I certainly had it, but even in my youth I remember the times when I KNEW what choices to make, where to go, what to do. When I lost my scholarship to the college I thought I wanted to attend, and knew I needed to travel around France and the UK instead. When it was time to leave my teaching job in Mansfield and look for right livelihood elsewhere (which turned out to be Keene, one of the best moves I ever made). When I offered to jump on an airplane to Atlanta, to meet a "total stranger" (the quotes are because in the short time we'd been talking on the phone I knew Hunt more deeply than anyone I'd ever met). These are just some examples of the way instinct has guided me.

I know, I know. There are those who will read this and give instinct another name, with Divine qualities. Of course, you are absolutely right, but so am I! Bear with me; blog post by blog post I'll get there (assuming there is a "there" there...). But for now, thanks be to instinct, and grant that I may have the wisdom, patience, awareness, mindfulness and courage to continue to follow it!

And now, I'm going to sit on the land and let it guide me towards this season's first plantings in the garden!

Desire and fear

Hunt and I just watched the movie "Chocolat" last night (for me it was about the 10th viewing, but still). This is a film that addresses the rigidity of those with a fixed belief system versus the joyful, sensuous delight of taking pleasure in taste, texture, and the unfamiliar and exotic. Briefly, Vianne and her young daughter Anouk arrive in a small French town during Lent, and set up a chocolaterie. Those who see themselves as holy and righteous meet this strong, beautiful woman head-on, and lessons are learned.

I've come to feel that we all are yearning for certainty in life- so much of it is such a big mystery, so often we are confused with contradictory explanations of the simple and complex aspects of life, big and small. Many of us are brought up in traditions that claim to have the answers all wrapped up, or at least, an explanation of the mystery of it all. And yet, even within those traditions there are contradictions. Sometimes we are told we must have faith, and not question the contradictions. Sometimes we are given long, complicated explanations attempting to reconcile these contradictions within the tradition. The mystery and wonder remains, and yet there is a desire for some spiritual certainty. (On a tangent, here is one of my favorite jibes at the attempt within one tradition to make it all clear: Dear Dr. Laura). We fear that which is outside the explainable, because there is the Unknown (there be dragons!).

Whether or not we adhere to a religious or scientific or other tradition, there is yet the Unknown- that which does not necessarily fit into our explanation, our rationalism, our spiritual path. Take chocolate, for instance. What is it about the sensation as it melts on the tongue? There's a beautiful scene in "Chocolat" where many of the principle actors, one by one, go to confession and pour out their guilt at the amazing explosion of the senses they have received by partaking of chocolate. Their trembling bodies, widening eyes, emotional voices, show their incredulity that such sensuous pleasure could exist- it couldn't possibly be allowed!

There is a line in the movie when Vianne's father is in Central America tasting a liqueur of cacao for the first time, that describes the taste as opening the senses and revealing the secret longings of the soul. What happens then? Self-knowledge, inner exploration, and possibly new revelation and a change of life. I'm not suggesting that chocolate always has that effect on people, but I am suggesting that freeing one's self to allow in joy, pleasure and delight can and will. Besides, chocolate is good for you! Really!

By the way, I am hoping this blog will invite comments and dialogue. I know I don't have the last word on these topics. What do you think about desire, fear, chocolate and other mysteries? Let's have a cup of hot chocolate and talk it over!

Nostalgia

"That Easter Day with joy was bright", and it certainly was! Sunny and warm, the last of the snow melting away, ice-out on the pond, and my two favorite men (husband Hunt and son Dylan), sharing a mid-afternoon lunch of hot dogs on the grill, iced-tea-lemonade (aka Arnold Palmers), and apple cake. Not a traditional Easter dinner! Not a ham or hard-boiled egg in sight. No hymns, no lilies. But a beautiful day, with a walk around the woodsy land, and the delight of discovering the first blooming flowers planted in the fall- a crocus over the septic tank!

It's only been recently that I haven't felt the need to re-enact the Easters of my childhood by dressing up (always new clothes!), going to church, singing the hymns, dying the eggs. I would have strong ideas about how to achieve the special feeling of the day, and would need to go through the motions, even as my personal outlook changed and moved away from a sin-and-salvation-based view.

I would go through these motions and yet, something was never quite right. It felt like play-acting, but the real thing was missing. I began to understand that the source of those feelings, those yearnings for sights, sounds and smells long-passed, was nostalgia.
And here I go to Google (get used to it, I'm an inveterate looker-upper) for a definition of nostalgia.
The Merriam-Webster definition is interesting:
"1: the state of being homesick
a wistful or excessively sentimental yearning for return to or of some past period or irrecoverable condition."
Then there's good old Wikipedia:
"The term nosalgia describes a yearning for the past, often in idealized form."



What was I yearning for, with my dyed eggs and Easter dress? My re-enacting was played out in so many other ways throughout my young-into-middle-adulthood. I often confused nostalgia with a true inner aspiration. I clung to rituals, habits, even jobs and people, yearning for something yet seldom completely satisfied at the result. Why not? What was I wishing for?
he most obvious answer is that I sought a return to the security of my past- I have vivid memories of Easter as a child, my pleasure in a new pretty dress, my delight at the Easter basket and its contents, and the full-sensory pleasure of the Episcopal Easter service at church- the mingled smell of lilies and incense, the triumphant sounds of the organ and joyful hymns, and the tingly feeling of this special day. The annual predictability of Easter and other holidays gave security in a childhood that was unsettled by frequent moves, lack of self-confidence, and a vague uncertainty as to my place at school and in the world.

But security can't be re-created, it must be built brick by brick, and comes from within. Creating the perfect holiday dinner won't bring back the sense of safety and love I felt as a child, nor will the clothes, the lilies or the candy. My sense of security must be built upon my knowledge of my own competence and worth as a human, and the safety I feel with those I choose to be with.
At this point in my very bumpy journey of life, I feel completely secure now in my skin, as the person I am becoming, in my house with my husband, and secure in the relationships I have with my children, friends and family. This is more valuable than any re-enacted ritual, and more lasting (later I'll muse on the value of ritual; I'm not throwing the baby out with the bath water!).

But there's more to nostalgia, that idealized yearning. The remembrance and longing for things past can also point to a deeper desire. Not only do we need to feel secure, we need to feel connected to those we love and beyond them, to the Whole. Whether we use the term God, Goddess, Universe, or no term at all, we humans have a longing for connection to It, and thus to each other. Throughout the year and throughout our lives we develop habits that become rituals, most if not all of them pointing to our desire to be part of something bigger than ourselves. Feelings such as nostalgia are signs of that desire. For some partaking in familiar rituals- church, patriotic events, school ceremonies, arts or even sporting events, helps us feel connected to a greater whole. For me, increasingly, it's participation in every moment of every day life- living as fully in the present as I can, being mindful of the beauty of a crocus, the touch of the piano keys, the pleasure of the company of my family.

Why Tam Lin?

At the start of our long driveway sits a small wooden sign. It simply states "Tam Lin"- not our names, just Tam Lin. We have had to start alerting newcomers about the sign, because folks have been known to drive right past (despite our assurance that it's the "first driveway on the left"- they assume that it's the home of Tam and Lin, not Hunt and Allison!
So why confuse the issue with the sign? Well, it's a long story. Tam Lin is a ballad, and it is a long story- about 42 verses, a story of true love and fidelity. There are many different versions, analyzed in great detail in various places on the web.
Basically, to make a long story short, Lady Janet (or Margaret, in some versions) meets young Tam Lin at Carterhaugh (her father's land, which he has given to her). After becoming, er, intimately acquainted, Tam Lin tells Janet that he is captive of the Queen of the Fairies, doomed to be killed this very night, unless one who loves him truly rescues him. Lady Janet questions him as to how this might be accomplished, and succeeds that very night by grabbing on to him and holding on and not letting go, despite his being transformed into all manner of beasts, until finally he was turned into a fiery coal, which she tossed into the holy well, resulting in his freedom from imprisonment. She wraps him in her cloak and carries him home on her horse, and true love prevails.
Hunt and I met in the fall of 2007, on an on-line site called Green Singles. We quickly guessed that this was The One, and learned from one another that we each had had a very bumpy road of love and singlehood. We assured each other that we were now holding out for The One, and I somehow was moved to tell him the story of Tam Lin. I assured him that when I found The One, I would hold on and not let go, like Lady Margaret. He was deeply moved by the story, and suggested that if we ever were to buy land, we would name it Tam Lin.
On our blog, Building our First Day Cottage, the story is told of buying the land and building our dream house. At Shutterfly you can see the evidence of our courtship- our wedding on Sept. 20, 2008 was a joyful day. We are now happily living our life of rural felicity in the house we have both dreamed of- there's still plenty of work to be done, and now that the snow has melted, the work goes on outside as well as inside.

Inner work, too. This blog is likely to be a spot for my musings on life, the universe, and the various thoughts I've been developing on my own personal Unified Field Theory of God, Space, Time, Music and Chocolate. It's a fine place to hang out for those of you who wait impatiently for updates on the house-building- that blog will gradually fizzle out, and this will become my holding tank for the thoughts I now have time to think. Hang out with me here, let me know what you think, and we'll pass some time along.

From the earliest version of Tam Lin:
Sae weel she minded what he did say,
And young Tam Lin did win,
Syne covered him wi her green mantle,
As blythe's a bird in spring