MY FRIEND HERMAN AND A CIRCUITOUS ROUTE TO SIMPLICITY

I was soaking outside in my hot tub marveling at the layer of icy white frosting on the juniper trees when my friend, Herman, came to visit me again.  He lit on the edge of the tub looking at me fearlessly and curiously.  I have dubbed him Herman Mainberger (Herman for short) in honor of a wonderful young German man who brought much joy to my childhood. 

Let me explain.  Herman (the bird, that is) first appeared about a month ago while I was sitting at the dining room table having breakfast.  He is a bird - not sure what kind of bird – gray and persistent for sure (like me?).  He kept flying into the window until exhausted and then would sit on the sill looking at me with that sideways stare that birds have.  I could see his breath on the window. 

At first I thought 'he' was another “intoxicated bird” who had consumed a few too many juniper berries.  We get a number of those wild ones slamming into windows, but this one seemed different in some way.  He has come to visit me every single day since then and I’ve been having some interesting dialogues with him as he peers into my windows.  This morning, however, was the first time we have had an outdoor face-to-beak encounter so to speak. Normally he appears first at the dining room windows during breakfast, then at the glass kitchen door while I’m cleaning up, then at the office sliding door while I’m at the computer and at various other times during the day at my office window. 

My husband thinks he may have lost his mate and is looking for her but I’ve come to believe he is a little mystical  teacher, in the disguise of a common gray bird, come with a lesson for me (no rolling of the eyes!).  At first I wasn’t at all sure what that lesson might be and thought my imagination once again had gone wandering into the woods.  But now I’m convinced he has come with a lesson for me and that when I get it, he will disappear. 

What am I learning from Herman, my gray feathered sweet friend?  Well, I wondered about the persistent hitting of his head against the window.  What could he possibly be looking for?  Couldn’t help but see the metaphor in front of my face.  How often do I hit my head against the wall looking for something, searching for something I’m not even sure has a name.  Please don’t tell me I am alone in this. I admit to what feels like a predisposition to struggle and resist when surrender would surely be the easier route and this bird has me thinking. . .

My wandering brain took me back to some compelling psychobiological research on human experience in the womb that I read about quite some time ago which has shown astounding results.  In Remembering Our Home by Dr. William Emerson, Sheila Linn, et al, the authors write that the earliest hurts a person experiences before and during birth are absorbed and stored in our cells like a remembered tone to which we continue to “vibrate sympathetically”.  I can attest to this with my own children.  My son was delivered by forceps against my wishes.  He has a strong inclination to refuse help of any kind.  My daughter was ready to arrive earlier than the nurses projected and, while they tried to locate the doctor, did all they could to delay her birth.  My daughter cannot wait.  When she’s ready, she’s ready!  My own mother, giving birth to me in a small convent hospital in Italy, labored for close to five days before I was born.  Even knowing that and given the work I’ve done around birth trauma, I still “vibrate” with a sense of having to struggle to do life and certainly an anxiety about not “getting there”, getting to the “purpose” of life.

So, although it might seem I am digressing from the topic of simplification, truly I am not.  I am just taking my natural circuitous route to get to that point of connection, unlike Herman who can get there the way the crow (or gray bird) flies.  Most of the time I don’t know where I’m going, but always end up in the right place.  So bear with me if you will.  After a somewhat sleepless night recently wondering what in the world I could write about and then moving on into a recurring theme of what is my “purpose” yada yada yada, I got up to write in my journal.  I wrote a contract with the Universe out of desperation to get a good night’s sleep.  I called it Contract to Rescind All Notions – in effect rescinding notions which include, but are not limited to, a special Purpose in my life (with a capital P), the need to find Meaning in all things, the Need to Understand, and Expectations (which the 12-Step program calls “premeditated resentments”) among others.  It felt as if I had let go, at least on paper, of everything but my underwear!  As I signed my name to this momentous document there was a sense of some weight lifting from me. 

As with material possessions (and this is where it all connects to consumer simplicity), I am keeping only what is practical, what I love, what serves me.  Energetically what I’m keeping is The Present Moment, What I Know Nourishes Me (creativity, service, kindness, deep listening, dream work), What I Love (family, friends, home) and the idea that Purpose is not necessarily a capital “P” but rather a small “p”.  That purpose is simply filling each precious moment we have with the richness of the Sacred manifested in all things around us and to somehow be of service to my fellow human beings.  Yesterday, Pico, my winter-chubby Jack Russell, and I went for a walk. As we came upon our mailbox, there stood a magnificent buck  – we all stared at each other for a long precious moment (even Pico didn’t know what to do except stand quietly) and the Sacred was ever so present.  I want to capture that feeling of being suspended in grace throughout each day.

I am finding that the material and spiritual paths toward simplicity, clarity and integrity occur simultaneously.  The surprising results of my limited efforts so far is that suddenly I do seem to have more time to be with the things that nourish me. Thanksgiving was simple, Christmas doesn’t feel burdensome like it has in past years. I am ready to surrender to simplicity and allowing Life to come to me rather than my struggling toward some kind of expectation of how it should all be.  I am looking forward to this holiday and especially seeing it once again as a child through the eyes of my awesome grandson, Sammy. 

So. . . In the spirit of this greening blog, I will close with one of my green Christmas intentions – to be conscious and mindful of how we wrap and give gifts.  There are great ideas floating around everywhere: using shiny catalog pages for small gifts, canvas tote bags, just reusable decorative bags in general, using fabric, reusable decorative or painted gift boxes, flower pots, kitchen accessories such as bowls; baskets, posters, even National Geographic map inserts I’m told make great wraps.  Check out a company I found while in Arizona at www.happybags.com.  Also check out for recycled wrap www.greenraising.com! And www.fishlipspaperdesigns.com for 100% post consumer paper with soy based ink.  Being creative with wrap sounds like fun!   Have a blessed and mindful holiday season. 

As for Herman...he's still hanging around my home, communicating with me, and slowly, as I stop trying, I'm understanding some of his wisdom.  I'll miss him when he no longer comes around.  But there will be other teachers, and I will keep learning what this magnificent life has to teach...even if all I have is my underwear!

Maria 

I was drawn recently to an old book on my bookshelf to read once again.  It is The Wisdom of the Dream about the world of the great man himself, Carl Jung.  It reminded me of the exciting journey into the subconscious world of dreams with all of its symbols, mystery and wisdom.  In a letter Carl Jung wrote seven months before his death to an English correspondent, he laments what he perceived to be a failure of his life’s work:

          “I have failed in my foremost task – to open people’s eyes to the fact that man has a soul, that there is a buried treasure in the field, and that our religion and philosophy are in a lamentable state.”

The buried treasure he was referring to is the human soul and that dreams represent one powerful path toward the soul and our shadow.  Beth’s recent blog on sehnsucht – “that which quietly draws us to our purpose” ignited a spark within me that has me listening to that inner guidance informing me of what brings passion into my life – soul work and the dreams that manifest themselves as doorways to the soul.  And speaking of doorways, I had a dream on the first of September which I entitled “Beetlemania” which seems appropriate to share in light of this  wonderful concept of “sehnsucht”:

I am standing in a plain whitish-gray room and suddenly need to go the bathroom.  I then remember there is a small cabin or cottage outside across the walkway.  It is pouring rain now.  I walk down a white tiled narrow hallway to a door that opens up to a path leading to the cottage.  The feeling of having private space for myself in this cottage is exhilarating.  As I open this door, I look down to see a large bug on the threshold.  It has a black round body with very long thin legs.  I want it to go outside and it begins to move out.  I have a sense it knows what I am thinking and complies.  It begins to move more quickly.  Once we are both outside, I close the door but realize it could somehow squeeze and mold itself back in.  I pull the door tighter to where I know it is sealed and the beetle cannot get back in.  I head toward the cottage knowing it will find its way there and I feel ok with that.   end of dream      

Somehow the dream and the idea of sehnsuct seem connected.  Am I being reminded and pulled into what is necessary to do my soul work?  That which requires solitude, a solitary place, a small cottage, whether physical or symbolic, in order to create and give birth to those desires of the heart?  The pull toward the cottage feels anticipatory and exciting.  The bug, which looked like a cross between a beetle and a daddy-long-legs, has a strange perspective.  It is like a shadow on the thresehold – shadow needing to brought into the light and rain outdoors.  In Egyptian myth the scarab beetle represents spiritual enlightenment.  I have no idea what the scarab beetle looks like but its symbolism rings true.  The odd thing is that in the dream the beetle didn’t seem grossly oversized even though its round body was about as big as the door’s metal threshold.  In practicing symbol immersion, bringing the symbol closer and examining it, that bugger grows huge.  That rings true as well.  The closer I get to the shadowy areas of my psyche, the bigger and life-changing they seem.

To quote again from The Wisdom of the Dream", analyst Dr. James Hillman  in writing about bugs in dreams says in part:

“. . . they (bugs) want something, they want to get into your blood, they want to get into your hair, they want to get you, and they have an intention, they’re like little demons or little angels, to change your way of behaving.”

That little angel wants me alright and the question of its intention intrigues me.  And those long legs? Gentle, fragile tentacles that lead to new places, dark corners, old patterns and holes in the psyche that are calling for the light.  They remind me to put one leg in front of the other so to speak; that this is just one “leg” of the journey to the work of the soul (well, yes, dreams speak in puns as well!). 

Beetlemania has not been taken to my dream circle as we are in summer hiatus but I know there is more to this dream.  What feels true is walking down a hallway, a symbol of transition.  It is time for giving birth to those things that have been hiding behind all the “distractions” that Beth mentions in her article.  Becoming a woman of sixty has begun yet another transition into hopefully a deeper wisdom and a simplicity that will allow me to sink into the work that is to be the rest of my life.  That shadow beetle will follow me – and in the dream it actually felt good to know my friend would make its way to the cottage in its own good time. 

There are changes ahead in my life as my newly retired husband and I renew, restructure, renegotiate that transition, my children and their partners’ joys, transitions and challenges, perhaps more grandchildren, pursuing my writing, (which lately feels somewhat akin to pulling fishhooks out of my body or what I would imagine that to feel like),  my own ongoing struggle with purpose, and important soul work that is so vital to our own lives and critically vital and urgent to the life of our beautiful planet.

I urge you once again to register your name and email on this website so that you can respond and share with us.  We would love to hear your ideas on sehnsucht – that which pulls your heartstrings-- and I personally would be very excited to hear your response to the dream “beetle”. . . your dream of my dream as we say in circle because the dream speaks to all of us in a collective way as well as personally.  In this dream, as all dreams, there is a buried treasure.  It is a piece of soul that I’m being asked to remember.  I, for one, think Jung was being a little hard on himself!

Maria Wattier, Dreamtender, Beetlekeeper    

I know I have a true self when desolation visits and I lose my taste for life and yet find within myself a life force that will not die.  From A Hidden Wholeness by Parker Palmer

It has been an extraordinary week.  A shaky week in Life School!  I experienced a major meltdown.  I felt like Roz Savage (just a tiny bit, ok!) rowing across the stormy Sea of Details (she rowed across the Atlantic alone) except that I was rowing in mashed potatoes and peanut butter.  Not much headway.

There are of course the myriad of wedding details – ordering portable powder rooms, golf carts, tables, linens, the list is mindboggling.  Never mind that the bride and groom and her mom are taking care of 95% of them – my 5% felt overwhelming.  Then there were showers, grandbaby’s first birthday, new exciting work projects that require my concentration, much neglected writing, seemingly endless garden preparation and landscaping, painting interiors, painting exteriors, and Dick's much anticipated and much deserved retirement.  My 95 year old father in law was having problems, my mother in Arizona needed my attention -- then my frozen shoulder required x-rays and physical therapy – like I have time for this - and on and on and on.

Boy, do I sound like a whiner – wah wah wah wah!  But in fact my meltdown was not about the details.  They simply represent my life at the moment – none can be postponed or delegated.  Summer is always a busy time and Dick and I are at that place in life where we have aging parents on one side and growing families on the other. 

But I could not regain my equilibrium.  I wanted to row myself out of this stormy ocean to sit on the dock and dangle my toes but simply could not.  So I jumped overboard!  Went to bed at 7:30pm and covered my head and just prayed. . . the squall passed by morning and I am  back rowing with all I’ve got but still a little wobbly I must admit.  So I got on my tractor mower and mowed (rhymes with rowed. . .) the sea of green lawns which always seems to calm me down and gets me back on board.  Ok, ok, can’t even come up with decent metaphors but I live in the high desert and that’s the best I could do given my frame of mind.

But even as the boat swayed and rocked, there was a faithful mindfulness to observing my use of resources and the ever present truth that every single thing I touch is asking for discernment.  All things are suspect and require attention to how we consume.  Things like makeup, sunscreen, nail polish,  polish remover, household cleaning solutions, fertilizers, food, cars, fuel, clothing. . . .  During this precarious week, it seemed too much so I bailed ship rather than tying myself to the mast (yes, I know there isn’t a mast on a rowboat!)

The antidote?  The same one that reveals itself each and every time I have fallen into water, mud, blackness, the hole or peanut butter and mashed potatoes.  Coming back to the moment, first things first, one thing at a time, one day at a time, look and listen more deeply, pause, meditate, pray, rest.  Focus on what needs attention right now in the most loving mindful way possible. In fact, focus on the thing that has the least priority.  So. . . I planted a Siberian pea shrub next to my blooming scarlet peonies and it was so lovely it made me smile all day.  I planted a ninebark bush as well and a few more pots for the wedding, planted all white flowers in two Italian urns, made arrangements for the potties and golf carts to transport guests and compromised on the hundreds of plastic glasses needed.   One thing at a time I tell myself.  I cannot heal myself or the planet (how’s that for optimism?) in one fell swoop so I will practice compassion on myself first and get myself to bed for a good night’s sleep.  I will also remind myself that this week I never once accepted a plastic or paper bag from any merchant and I mulched all perishable garbage.  Yea!

Pico, my totally fearless Jack Russell terrier and faithful companion, took me on a four mile walk/jog this morning.  Our neighbor’s new horse introduced herself by galloping to the fence.  She is a magnificent gray and black horse.  She tilted her head and wanted to know about my state of mind and all those silly details I’ve been fretting about.  I told her just watching her gallop with her two equally magnificent friends was already putting life into my soul.  Further down the road we watched two sets of red tailed hawks swooping and gliding in circles above our heads coming quite close to us.  Those awesome birds spoke to me as well of a higher perspective where all is well. 

As I rested I knew my meltdown was not about the details of my life but rather my response to them – that feeling of not being able to deal with life.  That overpowering sensation of being overwhelmed and destroyed.  My mother’s lifelong inability to face life I believe contributed largely to her falling into that ocean from which she has never been able to swim out.  I felt I was in that same place with her and the sheer terror of being there took over.  Am I genetically predisposed to falling into that deep ocean of despair and overwhelm and will there come a time for me when I cannot pull myself back into the boat?   

I was frankly not sure what to title this blog nor do I know exactly what the subject matter is.  I only know I must continue to write regularly or lose sight of the horizon (I’m back to the ocean metaphor!)  What are the lessons?  Maybe that sometimes one must admit that the best thing to do is jump overboard and STOP, meltdown and regroup.  And in regrouping to focus on that tiny light shining on the night horizon and paddle toward it.  This weekly blog was one of those lights. . . the other was my friend Beth emailing me one word “Rest”.  Is she crazy or what!!  I am writing and making no judgement about the discombobulated and disjointed condition of this writing or the writer.  Just do it as the Nike ad reminds us and, I might add, keep doing it.

Maria Wattier, Rower Extraordinaire and Lover of Jack Russells

“Simplicity of living, if deliberately chosen, implies a compassionate approach to life.  It means that we are choosing to live our daily lives with some degree of conscious appreciation of the condition of the rest of the world.”  - Duane Elgin, contemporary writer on voluntary simplicity

This blog continues as my personal exercise toward a deeper mindfulness and simplicity of living but at the moment has the imminent potential of becoming an exercise into overwhelm.  Definitely I am becoming ever more mindful not only of consumption but also how I walk on this earth.  My willingness to bring more simplicity and grace into my life is as strong as ever, knowing that simplicity is a relative term.  I must continuously bring myself back to the present moment, to the Now, in order not to fall into grief and despair brought on by mindboggling statistics about our rate of consumption and damage to the planet.  The belief that there is commensurate light in the darkness is my saving grace.  I am also reading about activists, corporate CEOs, individuals, others who are creating changes in how we approach our dilemma of the planet.  I become encouraged and recharged.

I continue to notice and question more my choices and that, I remind myself again and again, is the purpose of this blog.  Yesterday I participated in a benefit walk for *** cancer attended by more than 3000 people.  I could not help but notice the thousands of paper water cups being disposed of in large plastic trash bags.  Well, at least it wasn’t thousands of disposable water bottles.  From a recycling standpoint, which would be better?  Is our capacity to recycle certain types of trash a license to use more of that product?  Just more questions. . .

I am not a pack rat – never have been.  Maybe that’s from growing up in a military family where “stuff” was provided for us.  We owned little and left much of what we had behind when moving.  I don’t seem to form attachments to things easily.  My rule of thumb is that if it hasn’t been used in 6-12 months, why do we have it taking up space?  Given that, why does clutter continue appear out of nowhere? 

This week’s exercise is for me to just being conscious of “stuff”, tangible and intangible “stuff”.  I will step out and make some resolutions to:

*Remember to use my own bags at the store (I will admit I carry string bags and paper bags in my car and invariably they remain there while I’m at the checkout counter).  I resolve to do better than that! (If 10,000 people use canvas totes instead of plastic grocery bags, we keep 9 million – yes, that’s 9 million – bags from landfills every year.  In 2002 Ireland introduced a 15-cent levy on plastic bags, resulting in a 95% decrease in their use. – Ideal Bite

There are companies such as Nubius Organics, Posch,  Blue Lotus, BYOB, and others who make incredible bags from recycled materials.  Posch makes bags from 100% vintage bedsheets and pillowcases. 

*Refuse plastic bags of all kinds when I can carry the merchandise. (One hundred billion – 100B- bags are discarded every year in the U.S.  Hundreds of thousands of whales, seals, sea turtles and other marine life are killed by plastic bags each year.)  – Blue Lotus

*To shop only when necessary and combine trips to save on gas consumption
*Stop using packaged drinking water and simply refill bottles with tap water
*Continue to use cloth napkins exclusively and eliminate almost all use of paper towels
*Curtail use of plastic wrap by storing food in reusable containers

*Use only a tablespoon of detergent for washing clothes

*Reduce or eliminate chemical cleaning products
*Not toss out products until empty (it takes a little elbow grease, but if 10,000 people use every last bit of toothpaste, it saves 1000 tubes of toothpaste) – from Ideal Bite)

 I have teased my husband mercilessly about his compulsion to use every last drop of anything. . . but no more.  The man is greener than I thought!

*Be ever mindful and questioning about voluntary simplicity

*Continue my commitment to journaling weekly on simplicity and greening of my life especially when it feels daunting and the writing feels disjointed as it does this morning

This week I travel to Portland for a wedding shower for my soon to be daughter-in-law, then to Arizona with my daughter and grandson, Sammy, to see my mother.  She has Alzheimer's but always remembers Sammy.  She has never seen this 11-month old great grandson.  I resolve to:

*Be watchful of how I travel in the world and to more gently walk on this planet

As always, I encourage you to write about your experience in living in a greener and simpler world.  If the blog feels intimidating, simply email me at mariawattier@msn.com.  You have much to share and teach.  I know that and am eagerly waiting to hear from you.

Maria Wattier, Dreamer, Gardener, Healer, and Mindful Simplifier (ok ok, at least trying to be!)