this moment

1019192257this moment

The quieting down of the year, the turning within

this moment


this moment

…when the days are hot, the evenings are gratefully littered with lightning storms and monsoon rains…well, the cool, soft, moon lit night becomes prime training hours for a girl and her horse…

Fight the good fight

0403191222.jpgI’d like to revisit “heart medicine”- a post I wrote up a little while back, around the holidays. Heart Medicine. This past weekend, I was just touched again by the same sentiment at a  festival, a contemporary Native American Arts FestiVal.

Side note- we homeschool (as some of you might know)- my daughter is getting ready to turn 13. She’s entered adolescence. She’s lonely. It’s sometimes a lonely path- homeschooling. That doesn’t make it wrong, it just makes it different. I firmly believe homeschooling will produce an incredible, amazing, brilliant, strong, beautiful, connected, aware adult…. but in this moment, homeschooling is different. It will be fine I know, but I also know that right now it’s hard seeing her lonely.

Anyways, back to point 1- we saw this amazing Native American hip-hop singer dancer comedian Supaman at the festival who blew my mind in so many different ways.  He was so inspirational and my daughter’s been quoting him all week. Her favorite quote being “go out and get it, don’t wait for it to come to you”.  Keep in mind, she’s a super shy, timid, quiet girl. She’s learned a lot and she’s grown a lot this week. She’s gone out and “got it” this week. She’s also suffered her first heartbreak and the death of her grandfather and in the midst of all of this I sometimes just don’t even know how to help her. I feel her pain as if it’s my own. I never understood that before. Her pain is my pain. Now I do. I love her so much. I cry for her, cry with her. I cry at night after she’s gone to sleep, for myself. I cry to be the mother she needs.  To keep her safe in my arms. I sometimes wonder why life has to be so damn hard. Then, I have to look hard for the good……

“Supaman” called it Medicine. The good in life is “medicine”

I have an alarm on my phone set to go off every day at 1:20. This is my gratitude alarm.  Long story about why its set for 1:20! But when it goes off, I remind myself to take a soft breath, be in the moment and find something to be grateful for.  I have found myself actually being grateful for many things. Despite. present. circumstances.

Conclusion: 😉 Healing. I read an article about how a parent needs to be the calm in the storm. The tree that bends, but never breaks. The roots that are so deep it just sways in the storm and holds on through the storm . Then provides the shelter after the storm. The tree that has seen so many storms pass through and stays steady.

One more thing that feels like fitting medicine, there’s a song by Peter Mayer called “Everything Is Holy Now”.  If you haven’t heard it, I encourage you to search it and listen. I am realizing everything is indeed holy now.

And, now, I encourage myself (and you) to get up again tomorrow morning and keep on fighting the good fight.

Because everything is holy now. And the good in life is healing medicine.




heart medicine


Heart medicine.

Every year I take my daughter to the Winter Storytelling by Native American storytellers at one of our local museums. It’s a tradition. It was on the calendar for today. Today though, I didn’t feel like going. I felt overdone. I felt down. I didn’t feel like getting dressed and going out. I knew I had to though. For her. Our tradition. Her tradition. Beautiful stories. Inspiration. Show her the way.

For me. When I’m wallowing and wanting to “hermit” myself in, I must get out. I must do something of depth and meaning. I must look to the spiritual world and connection.

This evening back at home I am using the words “I must be responsible”.

Here’s why…

We went to the storytelling. There was a new storyteller this year, amongst the others.

For some reason there weren’t as many kids in attendance this year. A lot of adults. As he spoke he said “seeing as the room was mostly adults, he was going to break from his usual and tell a personal story”. He did.

He spoke of a tough childhood, loss, challenges. I obviously can’t go through his story here, but he coined the phrase for me: heart medicine.

Everything he went through, every loss, every hurt, every neglect, every challenge -he eventually was able to heal from and realized those pains were his “heart medicine”. Those challenges and learning how to heal from them were, indeed, the heart medicine that brought him here today, to who he is today, to become a healer/helper for others. He works now with the youth of the tribe in social services and in substance abuse treatment.

He told his story, he spoke of heart medicine, he played his flute, someone gently drummed off to the side, he tended the fireplace, he lit a cedar smudge stick, he prayed and blessed everyone, he told more story, he played more flute -his words, his movement, his music healed, he shared his heart medicine.

It was so powerful.

Heart medicine.

He got up later to tell another story. About our responsibility in the web of life. Our responsibility to ourselves, our family, others, the earth, the Creator.

He said he felt “pitiful” yesterday and wanted to bail on speaking today but he couldn’t because “he had to be responsible”. I believe I understood the metaphor in that.

I’m so so grateful he was responsible.