sunday (equinox) grace: how to spring detox

how to detox•mixed media on wood•lisa parks

i'm already seeing them:  the inevitable reminders that now is the time to detox our bodies with three-day juice fasts and foregoing coffee (um, no way).  i understand there are good intentions here and that some humans may benefit from these measures, but when i am inundated with these reminders, i often start to buy into the myth that there is something very dirty about me.

i'm wondering if you are like me and get really excited about the idea of a clean slate.  you may also be like me and get very motivated on "official start days" like january first, any given monday, or the first day of the season (tomorrow is a double:  a monday and the beginning of spring!).  you may also be like me and notice a rapid decline in said motivation about four days in...

i have to figure out ways to stay present with my "improvement projects".  i prefer to greet the change of seasons with a transitional approach, rather than the burn-it-all-down-and-start-anew tactic.  (plus, for many people, radical nutritional plans and even mainstream juice fasts are not designed for or are healthy for their particular body.)

for me, this softer transitional approach is needed.  here are some possibilities:

• the most critical poison to eliminate from your body, heart, spirit, mind, and life is the toxic human. you likely know who they are, but sometimes it's hard to tell.  pay attention to that inner whisper of "that feels weird"/"hmm, they said that, but did this..."/"well, now i just need to take a big ol' nap and never talk to another person ever again"/"maybe it's me....."   there is no better time than now to set the boundaries.

• write a farewell haiku to winter.  or write a story about something beautiful that happened this winter.

• unhibernate.  unfurl limbs.  move the body.  scrub the skin.  breathe the air.  see the light.  dip your toes in a running stream of melting snow.  find the blossoms.

• turn hope into action:  plant wildflower seeds, collect or purchase books for a children's club in an underserved neighborhood (here are some great recommendations), donate useful and beautiful things to your local domestic violence shelter.

• ask yourself, how can i be more awake?  the spring equinox heralds physical awakenings, but what about the awakening of the mind and spirit?   explore limiting beliefs.  conduct a values inventory (if that sounds weird to you, hit me up in person, facebook, etc. and i'll share a simple way to clarify personal values that i teach in workshops).  are there areas of knowledge and discernment that could use fine-tuning?  how do you value and respect and love and express in this sea of humanity?

• consume the foods of spring that celebrate where you live.  if you live in an area without a year-round farmers market, attend opening day.  i'm inspired to make a grilled flatbread pizza topped with arugula and kale pesto, appalachian cheese, garlic scapes and morels.  or maybe roasted radishes.

• ponder the ways you can bring more lightness to your life.  that may mean switching out flannel sheets for cotton.  that may mean giving all the windows in the house a good cleaning. that may mean wearing clothing that is lighter in both texture and color.  that may mean transforming that mass of heavy long hair into a pixie cut or coloring your hair robin's egg blue. that may mean losing five pounds.  that may mean beginning a process of releasing a pattern of thought or being that keeps you heavy and dark.

• make space.  this could done be in your physical environments such as your home or yard or office by editing out stuff and curating a more open space. or it could mean opening up your body; you might have the tendency to curl in and hug tight during colder weather so your body wants to expand.  warm up your body and try some yoga postures: pigeon to open the hips, ardha chandrasana to give your body that amazing wide open feeling, supported supta baddha konasana to open the heart and the hips.  

have a magical spring moonbeams.

around here

class cancellations due to snow left happy me with lots of time to create.  i am trying to avoid new art supply purchases until i use the things i have, like these caran d'ache colors.

something came over me and i painted with white, yellow and orange; rare choices for me.

is rumi like the sexiest 16th century man ever?

i'm optimistic about color and other things this spring.

i've wanted to cook with matcha for a long time, so i made some green tea and almond muffins.

the verdict:  they tasted yummy, but i wanted way more of that green matcha color for the (very high) price of the tea.  i'll try ice cream in a few weeks and use more than the recipe calls for to see if i can get that amazing spring green.

we started spring cleaning and organizing.  our local health food store has majorly upgraded their bulk spices, herbs and dry pantry staples.  i'm finally putting to good use all those jars i've hoarded away like a crazy grandma.  

i finished this piece last week and i am so in love with it.

i'm daydreaming of herbs and succulents on the sill and a meadow of wildflowers on that facing slope.  

another hoarding endeavor that is paying off:  mismatched carnival glass.  i'm thinking about a midsummer party...

these guys.

another thing i've wanted to cook:  lotus root.  i made this soup with lotus root, carrots, purple sweet potatoes, spring onions and asparagus.  the lotus roots are pretty and have an odd taste. the rest of the soup just tastes like spring.

around here

there is color.

serious color.

i hope your world is just as colorful.

i forget

sometimes i forget how magical a spring morning can be.

sometimes i forget to not get caught in the dehumanization trap.  and that it is the same divisive process at the core of hatred and killing (re:  dzhokhar tsarnaev).

sometimes i forget that love does not always come instinctively or easily.

sometimes i forget that inside of me there is this incredible power to center, balance, expand, release, forgive.  breathe.

sometimes i forget that grace and equilibrium are those things i'm working toward.  it's so easy to be triggered and allow myself to be agitated.

thank you home, husband, friends, dogs, mother earth for helping me remember.

bits of magic here and there

the cold and dark winter is lingering well into spring.  this morning my little forest is covered in heavy white snow.  this is the latest blizzard we've experienced since moving to virginia nearly twelve years ago.  it's in my nature to be disappointed when expectations (bright sunny skies, blooming trees, hikes and picnics, etc.) are thwarted and my mood is certainly affected.  i find myself vacillating between wee temper tantrums and bouts of melancholy.

reluctantly, i move from resistance and solution-finding into acceptance and surrender.  i mean, it's the weather; there is not much i can control or direct there, right?  might as well enjoy one more week of hibernation and indulge in the bright side:

• a delightfully unexpected week home (all travel and classes cancelled this morning)
• time i didn't think i had to start seeds for the karma garden
• hot homemade spicy lentil soup is still appropriate
• been feeling tossed around a bit lately, i think i might need some time to find my footing
• the silence of the earth when covered in snow is so beautiful; winter truly is the introvert's season
• a stack of books and many naps
• gratitude for a heated house, healthy food, good sheets and warm bodies (of the human and canine variety) to snuggle

the purpose of early spring

as far as we can discern, the sole purpose of human existence is to kindle a light in the darkness of mere being.
-carl jung

i go through this weird period every spring when i have a heaviness and a bit of despair about the human condition.  i believe it's a mix of some early traumatic imprint that happened this time of year, seasonal allergies and a call from spirit to slow down and reassess.  it sometimes feels very personal and adolescently dramatic, like my life is a total waste and i hate everything everybody does and says.  also there is the inevitable disappointment that my own emergence is not quite as automatic and beautiful as that which is occuring in nature.  these negative feelings take over when i ignore the annual whisper to withdraw and observe and ponder.

so i'm trying to rest more and join less.  listen more and talk less.  read more and internet less.  love more and fear less.

and read this again.

birth and rebirth

it's really difficult for me to imagine a life in which i could not count on another opportunity to let go, surrender, forgive, peel off another layer that has served its purpose, reset, restart, reinvent, switch up and try on a different bloom.  i am so grateful for the many times and many ways i have begun anew.

this is the spirit of today. 

and tomorrow.

and the day after...

happy easter.

mosaic monday

{see flickr creds here.}

the corgi

did not see his shadow!

five senses friday*

{the dreaming-of-spring&summer edition}

all week i focused:  sunshine, sunshine, sunshine.  warmth was experienced through the senses despite freezing temps.

{see}

• me wearing and enjoying all of the above, floral shorts included (hey, i'm dreaming here)

{hear}

• michael franti always puts me in a sunny state

{taste}

• my summer go-to meal:  fish tacos and a margarita

{touch}

• nothing feels more like summer than bikram yoga (still sticking with it...who knows, maybe those shorts can be a reality for me!)

{smell}

• malibu lemon blossom body butter
• the scent of the sea captured in a jar of sand and shells that sits on my desk

happy weekend bunnies!  i hope you have sun and warmth and fun.

*fsf inspired by abby

lately

the little forest behind the house has her fancy pants on.

mosaic monday

dearest spring,

on second thought, i may need a few more moments in the soft and tender. i know i asked for an explosion of color and energy, but you and i both know it was for no more than a distraction. i will wait here, hidden in the pale subtlety of your down beats.

love,
lisa

{flickr artists here.}

two stories of a girl named spring

I want to tell a story about a girl and how she arrives. you know she's coming; you can feel it in the air. the light and color shift; subtly at first, then in a moment the air is charged with happy static. she is bearing all things bright and beautiful. she is holding possibility in her arms; posed to deliver it to the faithful and patient. she is the party, the music, the dance. she is draped in sparkly exuberance and the only word she knows is "yes".

I want to tell a story about a girl and how she arrives. she is unexpected but somehow you are not surprised when she appears. you know her and trust her. she has been quietly working backstage, content in her study of life and love and color. her homework is done and then some. she has the answers to your questions about growth and comfort and fulfillment. she is the nurturer, the secret-keeper, the confidant. she is celadon and wisteria and the gentle scent of honeysuckle. she tiptoes softly into the room and stands before you, arms wide open. she whispers, "yes".

oh hi there beautiful

can I say how delighted I am that you've arrived? we can always count on you to be the early bird, the first girl at the party. bedecked in your brilliant purpleblueness, you wipe away a winter's worth of dark and cold. your soft scent brings to mind a landscape of green meadow speckled with a rainbow of wildflowers. I can hear the happy song of the baby brown wrens in the distance as they dance in the branches, testing their courage and skill.

thank you for bringing me to this place.

whole lotta love

feeling super enthusiastic about spring this year.

two weekend blizzards in a row will do that.

the absence of color and warmth make the heart grow fonder.

like a lonely girl awaiting the return of her lover.

on time and peonies

peonies seem to be everyone's favorite. they have all the characteristics of a flamboyant friend who visits once a year (bigger than life, brightly-colored, gone while we're still enjoying their company). we always anticipate the visit and delight in every single knock-your-socks-off second of it.

this year, they seem to have arrived early. I can relate and appreciate; I too am an early girl. ken and I we're just having a discussion the other day about telling time and analog clocks (we have the strangest discussions sitting outside at night!). it was part of a larger discussion about the digital generation (our students) and what we feel they are gaining and losing. anyhoo, I vividly recalled the moment as a child that I "got" the clock and learned to tell time. it was the very first sensation I had of control. I now had a tool that would help me have some control over my own life. I had the power to organize some chaos. that's huge. ever since then, I have been a time and schedule fanatic. I am almost always early and chronic lateness is one of my pet peeves.

what about you? is the clock your friend or foe?

I hope you have peonies exploding around you too.

{p.s. look closely at the flower, it has a friend holding on under the petal.}

more and more and on and on

is it just me or does it seem there is an extraordinary explosion of blossom this year? everywhere I look, some benign bush or stick of a tree has flourished in technicolor over night. and nature has her timing spot on too: once one flowery confection is reaching the end of its color cycle, it's neighbor takes the spotlight. it is the show of a lifetime. and it is spectacularly sweet.

I hope you have amazing plans this weekend. I'm going to two picnics today; one real and one imaginary {wink}. see you back here later.

{yesterday}

a sultry summer day smack dab in the middle of spring. the kind of summer day that requires playing with the sprinkler and huge amounts of lounging. the bright sun is infused through a filter of heavy air. the heat swirls the scent of the gardenia bush throughout the yard. there is nothing like falling asleep in the sun and waking to the scent of gardenia. before my eyes open, there is a slide show in my mind of all the spaces I have stood that smelled of gardenia.

at the end of my life, I will be able to say that my life was gardenia scented.

project mood lifter

sometimes a perfectly gorgeous april sunday does it by itself. other times, I need a plan. the project list on this particular weekend involved garden stores, books, writing assignments, catching up on long-missed blogs. all of these things (in addition to those posted yesterday) contributed to a lighter spirit and the ability to smile true. but it was the planting that pulled most of the weight.

I started small with the herbs and annuals destined for the empty rainbow of glazed ceramic pots that have been waiting patiently all winter, safely tucked away in the shed. I like to plant a collection of mints and allysum to scatter throughout the main lounging area outside. on humid summer nights, the soft scents of peppermint and honey provide even more ambiance to lazy stargazing sprinkled with storytelling. the anticipation of such nights had me imagining fireflies in broad daylight.

there is just something about the feel of rich soil in my hands. while the dirt made me feel childlike and playful, the act of planting young sprouts with the intent to nurture and grow was decidedly maternal. I needed both these things. I am lifted. I am grateful for garden.

I'd also like to thank my lovely planting assistant, luca. the project would have been successful, but humorless, without him.

{I finished life of pi yesterday. if you've read it, please chime in on which version of the story you believe. this is why I need a book club.}

be beautiful

it's friday. it's spring. it's a long weekend for some. what better time to be our most charming, creative, colorful, bright and beautiful selves?