Bird Cage

May 15, 2020

There is a very earnest little bird that sings away every day in my neighbor’s front yard, perched on a branch in a large maple tree. I have been hearing him (I’m assuming he is male) when I meditate in my living room in the morning or eat breakfast in my kitchen. We are actually having a spring this year and it’s been too chilly to sit out on my screened in porch since it gets very little sun. It warmed up enough for me to drink my coffee there towards the end of the week and I got to lay eyes on the little guy.

The opera was clearly intended for a broader feathered audience, not me, but it occurred to me as I watched through my screen that I’m the one in the cage. COVID-19 has forced me to stay home much more than I’m used to and the birds are all outside enjoying their freedom to fly about their lives as usual.  

Because I am fortunate enough to still be able to work and I am healthy, the direct effects of COVID-19 are more about emotional reactions and disruptions for me. I have to say, this forced captivity for me has had a silver lining. As in any crisis, the positives gained might never be an even exchange for what is lost, especially when accounting for my community at large. But it never hurts to recycle the inevitable into something meaningful.

It’s been healthy for me to question many of my patterns and habits and reflect on what’s really important to me. Like many of my clients, I’ve had plenty of difficult and uncomfortable moments and can resonate when I hear, “I feel really lost right now…” or “I’m having a lot of anxiety…” and “I feel all alone.”

I had my first panic attack last week, out of the blue. Thank Goddess I recognized what was happening to me or I would have driven myself needlessly to the emergency room instead of pulling over, turning on the air conditioner while laying out flat in my seat and taking deep breaths for about 10 minutes. The pressure, pain and burning eventually subsided. A few days later and some perspective allowed me to make more sense of why my anxiety came to a head.

Being less “busy” socially was a New Year resolution even before the pandemic hit. The stay at home order has just facilitated this for me. I am reading more, actually relaxing and being a little better about my emotional self-care. But it’s also dislodging feelings that I can’t distract away from. The “cage” has forced me to acknowledge and deal with them, to practice letting a feeling surface, notice it and let it crest and then eventually resolve. Like my panic attack, my not fighting what was happening helped me get through it much quicker. And in the end, sitting with emotional upset, while not easy, serves me well.

NN

P.S. I’m reading an excellent book, Learning to Walk in the Dark, by Barbara Brown Taylor. On page 78 (summarizing one take away from Miriam Greenspan’s book, Healing Through the Dark Emotions) she writes, “It is our inability to bear dark emotions that causes many of our most significant problems, in other words, and not the emotions themselves.” I could have saved you 5 minutes and just posted those last 2 sentences lol.

 

RBG

September 21, 2020

I was sitting on my couch last Friday night when I burst into tears after reading the notification of Ruth Bader Ginsburg’s death. She was a tireless advocate for women and a great human being. She was one of the few leaders in our government that I could sincerely look up to. It’s sobering to think about the huge gap her absence leaves in the midst of how polarized our country is and the upset many of us feel about those who are currently in positions of power.

This has been such a challenging year, collectively and personally. I know I am not alone in my defense of just shutting down as an attempt to cope with the magnitude of it all. So it was cathartic to cry, to feel and not avoid yet another loss and blow to what seems so fragile these days: hope.

As I started to gather myself together to head to bed, I registered with the table that I was looking at but not paying attention to. Snapping back into my body, I focused on the African violet directly in front of me. This little violet, Georgette, is the graft and daughter of another violet, Georgia. I’ve written about them both in the past. Georgia was a violet given to my ex by her Mom. When she and I broke up, Georgia was one of the many little, and big, losses of my life as it dramatically changed over six years ago.

However, Georgette is also a very tangible symbol of encouragement. She represents how life is still beautiful as it morphs and marches on in a direction that I may not want to follow, dragging me even if I refuse to cooperate at times.

If you haven’t read my prior post, I tried to graft a leaf of Georgia when I moved out. Although I was not successful, my ex was kind enough to help me out and grafted not one, but two violets for me. Not only are both offspring thriving, they are also flowering right now.

And that was what I was looking at. A little plant doing a mighty thing: living, flowering, adding beauty and wonder to anyone who is willing to notice. It’s a “re-run” of a prior oracle but it still has juice.

This is why I have to keep writing. Because it is how I flower, how I connect and express a life worth living, adding a little beauty and comfort to my life and by extension, hopefully to you the reader as well.

NN

Sasquatch

September 6, 2020 

On a recent trip to Blowing Rock, I came up after dinner on a Friday night. I didn’t have a full tank of gas but knew I had enough to get me up the mountains. There is a station right outside of Lenoir before you hit the final steep ascent up Highway 321. It’s a quirky, local spot I like to support.

It was after 9 pm and starting to get dark, so I wasn’t able to see that the office had already closed until I pulled up to the pumps. I still had about an eighth of a tank, plenty to get me safely to my destination. But there was something about being alone, the approaching darkness, and too many stories in my head involving violence that caused my mind to begin playing a fictitious short film with a sinister plot:  an innocent woman, stranded, and gosh, this mountain store, complete with the foreshadowing of neon signage intermittently flashing, seems like a God-send to a desperate situation, but the creepy soundtrack lets you the viewer know it is not the case and that disturbing things are about to happen.

Right as I started to pull through the edge of the station to get back on the highway, I glanced to my left and then quickly to my right at the perfect time to catch what I had never fully paid any attention to. There are quite a number of cement, life sized statues of deer and other things, including a very believable and large replica of Big Foot.

My heart jumped into my throat as I instinctively mashed the accelerator to get out of false harm’s way. After a second or two, laughing with relief, I took a final look, just to make sure the joke was on me. Big Foot was indeed not moving and so I quickly got the hell out of there.  

Our minds are hard-wired for survival to notice and remember danger and I cannot help my protective reaction to check on that stupid statue every time I get gas there or even pass by this business. While “normal,” it is helpful to be aware of this tendency and pay attention to the bigger picture.

With all of the changes and challenges I’m facing, that my community, our country and world are grappling with right now in 2020, I know my fear has been heightened. But I have allowed it to silence me and snuff me out through judgment, real or imagined, and have quit before I got fired. I stopped believing in my compass altogether instead of staying with it and deepening my reading of it. In doing so, I had nothing to write about. It’s been depressing to just check out from overwhelm and I know I have to act despite what I feel.

It feels good to come back to these pages. I am choosing, just for today, to show up, to be as present as I’m able and to write.

NN

   Welcome!

What is an oracle?

Hoot

May 16, 2020

A few nights ago, as I was climbing into bed, I heard what I thought was the hoot of an owl. There is a greenway half a block from my condo and a large wooded park and natural area with a pretty big creek running through it. As I settled into the sheets, I strained to listen, a little disappointed that perhaps what I heard was just the bark of a dog.

But then, a reply hoot came from a little further away. The owls continued to call out to one another. As I eavesdropped, I gently drifted off to sleep. It reminded me of a vague memory from my childhood: after being tucked in, my eyes heavy, I’m reassured by the lullaby of muffled adult conversation coming from a distant room that shooed away fears of imaginary snakes under the bed and the unknown hiding in the darkness of my closet.

While I’ve outgrown those fears, I’m never too old to feel comforted by the company of other beings, whether they are human, furry, stuffed or feathered. There is contentment in knowing that I too have my place nestled in this big Universe.

And I do confess that I still sleep better with my closet door closed.

NN

Leaving the Nest

May 3, 2020

For the past month, I have been sharing my condo with a nest of birds perched right outside and above my bathroom window. Every morning I hear the muffled chirps and tweets of the fledglings whenever they are being visited by a parent with food. They are crammed into a small space right at the roof line and I have been concerned about there being enough room as the tiny birds grow. There were scratching and pecking sounds as well as new calls and squawks at the beginning of the week, making me wonder if the time had come for them to fly the coop. The absolute silence the past two mornings as I washed my face and brushed my teeth confirms that the little ones have indeed left the nest.

Funny, I too am facing a similar quandary right now. At the beginning of the year, my work landlord called a meeting and informed me and the other four practitioners that sublease from her that she needed a change. She outlined details as best she could of what some of the changes might look like. Initially, it seemed reasonable to hope that we would be in transition for a long time. However, COVID-19 completely changed all of that and we were given a definitive end date of June 30th.

I was clearly in denial, as the news hit me hard. After getting cranky for a day and then having a big cry the next, I realized that I was grieving the loss of the community I’d come to love being a part of. I came to my work space almost five years ago because my ex and I ended our life partnership and I needed some separation since we were still going to stay in business together. It was the perfect place to land during that hard time. The collection of strong, warm and incredible women (and a few men) provided a healthy interdependence and connection. The office itself is within walking distance to my condo, is affordable and I like the vibe I have created in my cozy nook. I do not want to leave this nest but it is a reality I am being forced to accept.  

I was not raised to acknowledge, express or talk about my feelings. After having a nightmare one night (in the dream, a hand reached through a dark space to grab my hand and I woke up screaming) and then frustrating themes in my dream the next (like having a new client but not being able to get to my office and later in the dream dealing with water pipes bursting, then wanting a cup of coffee but being in a new city and not knowing where any coffee shops were etc. etc. etc.), it occurred to me that I was not addressing my fears, worries and upset. The squawking nest of baby birds encouraged me to have the sense to inhabit and vocalize my feelings. I have been easing into this new transition ever since because as I accept how I feel, it ironically gets less difficult and then the shift enables me to be proactive.

Thank you baby birds for teaching me to squawk a bit and nudging me to summon the courage to fly to a different perch.

NN

Follow My Own Advice

April 26, 2020

One of my closest friends is a massage therapist. Because of COVID-19, she is not able to work with her clients and her two teenage daughters are completing out the school year at home. She is handling it all with grace and courage, but it gets to her sometimes. She was looking forward to getting outside this weekend for a little exercise and fresh air only to discover that the park she and her daughters were hoping to visit was closed. She lives in a lovely neighborhood in Fort Mill and I suggested that, while disappointing, she go on her walk anyway and focus on using her five senses as a distraction for having to settle.

I had had a particularly tough week myself. I received some unexpected difficult news at work as well as having computer problems that just sprinkled on even more stress to my upset. By Saturday, I was pretty worn out. The idea of paying attention to my senses and looking for what’s beautiful kind of perked me up and so I decided to take a walk.

I hadn’t even left my condo when nature provided the first sensory input. A bird has built a nest at the top of a metal covering that protects some HVAC wiring that runs from the ground to the roof line. Every time the mother comes back to her nest, there is a cacophony of peeps and chirps that lasts until she flies away again. Hearing: check.

As I came out of my condo, I could smell the slight hint of honeysuckle that is in full bloom at the back of my parking lot. Second sense noted.

It was a cloudy day and even though I put on a long sleeve T-shirt, my skin goose bumped a little and there was sense number three, touch/feeling.

The fourth sense of vision was probably the most fun and engaging just because right now in Charlotte there is so much in bloom. Roses, sweet peas, butter cups, dandelions, lavender, daisies and a darling yellow and orange flower a neighbor planted that I don’t know the name of.

My intended 30 minute stroll turned into over an hour of walking as I just kept snapping pictures of lovely flowers, leaves and new growth everywhere. By the time I made it back home, it was well past lunch so I ticked off the final sense of taste with heated up leftovers of pan fried tempeh and stir fry.

It’s good to follow my own advice.

NN

Easter Bunny

April 14, 2020 

Last Saturday night I made the mistake of reading the New York Times brief from the prior Friday, April 10^th. I am someone who gets easily overwhelmed by a lot of news and reading just the highlights Monday through Friday provides the sweet spot for me. I can keep abreast of the major headlines while not being awash in negativity. I thought I would just catch up on the latest before going to bed. The sobering effects of COVID-19 and the concentric circles of how social isolation is affecting all parts of our lives and society really hit me. As I tossed turned all night, my worry spread into other concerns about work and worse-case scenario outcomes.

My ex and I had agreed to have coffee and brunch at her house on Sunday morning in honor of Easter. We are each doing our best to socially isolate and have as little contact with other people as possible. I schlepped over in my PJ’s. I was tired and I can park and make it into her kitchen without anyone seeing me. It was unusually quiet due to COVID-19. No neighbors were getting dolled up to head to church or to gather with family in their PJ’s. As we sat in her living room six feet away from each other and talked through my freak out, she noticed a bunny hopping down the drive way of the house across the street. We both got up and watched, transfixed as this darling cottontail munched on the clover, not moving as birds also hopped around or the occasional squirrel darted past to scurry up a tree. We probably sat on the floor looking through her French doors for at least 15 minutes. It knocked some, not all, of my anxiety away, watching this peaceful scene of all of these creatures coexisting and being provided for by nature. A bunny sighting never fails to make me happy.  

As my ex and I made breakfast and ate, I opted for herbal tea rather than more coffee. My ex smiled as she handed me the cup and said, “Read what your tea bag says.” I was confused at first, thinking she meant for me to read my tea leaves. Since the leaves were in the Yogi tea bag and I have never been taught this skill, I gave her a puzzled look. She explained that she meant for me to read the tea tab at the end of the string. It said, “When you become a part of the universe, the universe becomes a part of you.” It was a second affirmation of reassurance that at a very basic level, I am spiritually connected and not alone.

I appreciate the human, the fluffy and the flavorful reminders to keep coming back to the present moment.

NN