Maia Toll's Blog, page 2
July 26, 2019
Congratulations: You’ve Changed!
My number three wish, right behind ending world hunger and luring a live-in masseuse to my lair, is a life that’s that simple.
Like so many people who get involved with “alternative” healing, I started this crazy and glorious journey— a journey that, over the years, has defined every aspect of my life— because I was sick. After yet another doctor stared at my bloodwork in confusion, I decided to take my first (desperate!) step into the “woo-woo” by making an appointment with a naturopath. From there I began exploring the wilds of the Manhattan wellness community, cavorting with homeopaths and energy healers, acupuncturists and, yes, herbalists (all modalities which are now more “normal” to me than pharmaceutical medicine).
While herbs were part of my healing, they were far from the totality of it… But that wasn’t the part of the (above!) question that hung me up. I got stuck on the phrase “did you heal?”
What the heck is healing? And how do we know when we’ve done it?
Does healing mean you have no physical or spiritual pains? Does it mean your condition no longer makes your bloodwork look like a Rorschach inkblot test?
For many years I thought healing meant returning to the physical, emotional, and spiritual state I’d been in before I got sick. It meant regaining everything I felt like I’d lost including boundless energy and the ability to digest tomatoes and peppers (Andrew knows that on my death bed, when ruining my week is no longer an issue, I want a piece of pizza and a super spicy vindaloo). I wanted to heal as if my health was a thing held in stasis and I simply needed to find my way back to it. But health is a facet of a living ecosystem, and ecosystems grow and change.
I had grown and changed. I was no longer the person who had gotten sick in the first place: every cell I my body had died and been replaced; hidden treasures and time bombs in my DNA had been reveled and triggered; my ovaries had ceased their cycling and my hair was no longer so dark it was often called “black.” Beyond that were the knowings that those years had brought— life experiences I wasn’t willing to trade.
To be well, to be healed, it became increasingly apparent that I had to redefine healing for myself and find wellness in the present tense.
If you’re going to define healing as a return to a previous state of being, your healing journey is doomed to failure before you even begin. In Traditional Chinese Medicine, it’s thought that as long as you (and any conditions you have) are evolving, you’re on a healing path. It’s stasis and stagnation which will cause your acupuncturist to don her worried face. Change, on the other hand, shows that you’re doing the work of creating something new, something that might be called healing.
Healing is not a destination, it’s a way of walking through your life.
Click To Tweet
Healing is not a destination, it’s a way of walking through your life. If you can say to yourself, “Congratulations: you’ve changed!” then you’re on the right path.
Hugs—
The post Congratulations: You’ve Changed! appeared first on Maia Toll.
July 3, 2019
The Stuff That Scares Us Makes Us Whole
At the time it felt like a big idea, one that would take a lot of energy and resources…
But I had a little tickle in my belly telling me I was on to something. So I tentatively laid it on the table amongst the sweet potato fries and warm beet salads. It was a program called Your Wild and Wonderful Herbal Year.
Yup, it was a mouthful. And while the name didn’t stick, the program did. It’s called Witch Camp. Now, my team and I excitedly plan our whole year around it, anticipating the lengthening nights, dry leaves, and spiced cider that announce its beginning.
“Witch Camp” began as an inside joke, or perhaps an insider’s club: the women who worked for me liked to say they worked at Witch Camp.
As we came together to create Your Wild and Wonderful Herbal Year, I started to hear murmurs from my team: “this is Witch Camp!” Eventually my web designer made a stand: I can’t get inspired to work on this program when the name is so boring. It needs to be called Witch Camp.
Seven years later, sitting down to work on Book #4 (which has so many working titles we don’t even know how to refer to it anymore), I’m looking at these power words— witch, priestess, shaman— and trying to understand what it is in our spirits that react (strongly!) to these motifs. Why do these words hold so much weight? They stir up both lust and revulsion, hope and fear.
I’m starting to believe it’s because these words point us to parts of ourselves that have been buried, parts of ourselves that scare or entice us, that threaten to overturn our carefully constructed ideas of who we are. We tend to fear what we don’t know, even when what we don’t know is a facet of our own self… and there is a surprising amount of stuff we hide from ourselves. Stuff that we either purposely tuck away or things that get lost under the weight of years.
Bits of our spirits get buried as we move through life.
It can seem benign: you give up dancing because your parents say that it’s frivolous or your friends think you’ll never be any good. You think it doesn’t make sense to spend time on something that’ll never amount to anything (often making this judgement call based on whether it’ll bring you money instead of whether it’ll bring you joy).
So a part of you vanishes. One day you look in the mirror and see a 2D version of your self. And this 2D self has a job or a house or children or a partner who’s used to this version. Becoming multidimensional again might mean change, it might mean loss. Plus, we’re not sure we have the time or skills to become multidimensional again.
But what if it’s not about finding an extra ten hours in the week to acquire new skill sets? What if instead it’s about reconnecting with the feeling each of these archetypes inspire within you? What if it’s about remembering to be brave and creative and nurturing instead of learning judo, taking a jewelry making class, and going to culinary school?
Often times archetypes represent a character trait we admire. You can step into those spaces within yourself by engaging with the archetypal pattern and seeing yourself reflected in it.
It would save a lot of pain if this was taught in school. But there are no classes on recording your dreams or seeing a sign amidst the clamoring visuals of daily life. Most high school teachers don’t explicate how the patterns of nature relate to our own cycles and rhythms.
We graduate not knowing that the phases of the moon can teach us how to create new things in the world or that the Medicine of Wolf can show us how to work together in a pack. We aren’t taught that archetypes— like Ninja, Artisan, and Chef— can teach us about missing pieces of ourselves, parts we need to acknowledge so we can become ourselves.
The unacknowledged stuff within ourselves can scare us…. but it can also make us whole.
Hugs—
The post The Stuff That Scares Us Makes Us Whole appeared first on Maia Toll.
June 19, 2019
Reaction Mode, YIKES! Sit, Sip, Breathe.
You’ve probably heard this advice from your mom, your yoga teacher, your crystal-wearing neighbor, and countless people on social media (don’t get me started on flippant social media advice!).
Even if this deep intuitive connection with your inner-self flows easily when you’re on a silent retreat or doing a weekend of journey-work, it’s still hard to tap into when the dog won’t stop barking, the baby won’t stop crying, and the car next to you at the traffic light is blaring one of those ba-boom, ba-boom bass lines.
Modern life is loud: it’s hard to hear your own thoughts, let alone the quiet whispers of your heart.
If you’re thinking I don’t remember how to tap into my intuition, then I have a secret for you:
Your biggest hurdle to hearing your inner truth is getting out of reaction mode.
When you’re in fight-or-flight response, you can’t hear the voice of your heart… And you’re actually not supposed to! Our bodies are hardwired to get us out of danger. If neolithic a woman paused to wonder if it was her dharma to get eaten by the saber-toothed tiger, our species would have died off long ago.
Your biggest hurdle to hearing your inner truth is getting out of reaction mode.
Click To Tweet
Your hair-trigger fight-or-flight reflex works great for tigers of the saber-toothed variety, but not so well for daily modern life…
… which admittedly, sometimes leaves you feeling like you’re being chased by a whole streak of tigers (yes, that’s really what a group of tigers is called— a streak. Thus giving us a moment when humans— and human language— are sooooo cool).
The most important thing to know about being in constant, low-grade reaction mode: you don’t realize you’re in it.
So you think you’re being ridiculously rational, but you’re behaving like a drunk driver who’s sure she’s road-safe.
In order to break the cycle, you’ve got to build some calming into your day, whether you think you need it or not.
My daily ritual?
Tea time.
(It only works if you stay off social media while you’re sipping.)
Turn the process into ritual by consciously calling in all four elements (earth, air, water, and fire):
As you boil the water, notice the interaction of fire and water.
Listen to your favorite song while your tea steeps (tea = water and earth, music= air).
Breathe in the steam (water, air, and fire) before your first sip.
Taste your tea. Roll it on your tongue before swallowing.
Remember this is your time. Don’t answer the phone or finish the laundry. Sit, sip, breathe.
I’m a black tea drinker myself— a holdover from my time in Ireland— but milky oats, holy basil, a little chamomile or lemon balm will all help you calm the heck down (try Herbiary’s Women’s Favorite, Sour Mama, or Asleep Blended Teas). I sometimes add cinnamon or roses to my Assam, both of which work wonders for my stress levels. (The cinnamon is more personal than medicinal. My Aunt Ceil would make cinnamon tea and it’s atavistically soothing for me.)
Tea not your thing? No worries: it doesn’t much matter what you do (as long as it calms you). And it matters that it’s daily.
The dailiness is what lets you break out of fight or flight mode (’cause remember you might not realize you’re in it).
The other day whilst sipping tea, I listened to FDR’s “there is nothing to fear but fear itself” speech.
Roosevelt knew the power of fear. He knew a bunch of humans in reaction mode was truly something scary.
You are beautiful and strong and full of purpose. Find your daily check-in, whatever it is that lets you come back to center and share the power of your heart.
Need a little more inspiration? Check out my previous musings on The Sacred Pause.
Big Hugs—
The post Reaction Mode, YIKES! Sit, Sip, Breathe. appeared first on Maia Toll.
June 14, 2019
Hive Mind: Harnessing the Power of Community
Can these get-togethers really make your life better? Or are they just another to-do to add to your calendar?
Let’s start with a resounding YES! (hear that echoing off tall buildings, short mountains, and bouncing off the rim of your coffee cup?). Each of these ways of being in community make your life feel richer and yummier. Simply basking in the glow of connection can heal a lot of hurts.
Each of these types of gatherings serve different personal needs:
✦ Moon Gatherings are about ritual. They’re a joint space to set intentions and celebrate the cycles of the moon and the seasons.
✦ Sisterhood Circles are about being witnessed, heard, and held as you walk yourself through life’s more challenging moments.
But what if you’re feeling lost or confused or alone and want to harness the power of community to help you move forward?
Then you need a Hive.
A Hive is not only a place to be celebrate and be heard, it’s a place to get stuff done. In business coaching, these types of gatherings are called Masterminds. The basic concept is that when you gather people with different knowledge, skills, and resources, options will open up that you never thought of or even dreamed possible.
What happens when you apply this concept to your daily life? What happens when you gather your friends to discuss best parenting techniques or ways to deal with a cancer diagnosis?
When you harness the strengths of your community, you create Hive Mind… and everyone benefits.
But simply gathering everyone in one room and asking for ideas can be overwhelming to your senses and underwhelming to your need for true support. The quiet person doesn’t get heard while the exuberant, type A accidentally grandstands and derails the train. Trust me, I’ve been there. I’ve also, fifteen minutes after a gathering of super smart, insightful people, had the “oh, f*ck” moment when I realize I wasted my 20 minutes of group attention by asking the wrong question.
After years of first being a part of and then leading these types of circles, I’ve come up with a foolproof plan for making sure the entire Hive benefits from the gathering and discussion.
An aside: at one point I thought this might become part of my business model, so this step-by-step program was a closely guarded secret. But I’ve realized that while I LOVE leading these groups, they aren’t my main focus. Now the Mastermind which I started as a business venture— Sisterhood of the Traveling Pajamas— is a democratically run Hive. We get so much out of our quarterly get-togethers that I wanted to share our exact process with you so you can create your own Hive and begin harnessing the hive mind to handle life’s ups and downs.
Step 1: Build Your Hive
Before contacting your three closest friends and that really savvy woman from the PR department at your law firm, think about where in your life you most want support. Is your Hive bonding over raising kids, assisting elderly parents, new business ventures, saving for retirement, creating a city wide eco-initiative… the possibilities are truly endless.
To get the right people into the mix, you need to begin by defining your goals.
Think about how often you want to meet. Is this a one-and-done or are you building a long term, working group?
How many people do you want? Less than 4 is a lunch with friends, not a Hive. More than 8 can be unwieldy.
Will you be adding any ritual aspects to your gatherings? Even though my group is all about business, we build an altar for our weekend together. After each person’s “hot-seat” (keep reading and you’ll understand!), we pull an oracle card.
Once you understand what you’re creating, you can begin inviting people to the Hive. Be sure to set a specific time and place for gathering. Beginning with a Facebook Group and “seeing where it goes” often leads to non-action.
Step Two: Lay the Groundwork
Once you’re all gathered, you need to get on the same page. Lay the groundwork for being together. Pass out this instructional handout and discuss the details as a group, adding your particular nuance and flavor. The handout is meant to give you a starting point. Try a round or two following the instructions exactly and then change things up so they work best for your group!
The basic layout looks like this:
everyone gets a “hot-seat.” During your hot-seat time, the entire group focuses on your needs. You in-turn focus on everyone else’s needs when you’re not in the hot-seat.
hot-seats are timed to keep things moving along and to force everyone to be thoughtful and concise.
self-reflection is built in. You don’t need to police the Hive (cause that’s never good for group dynamics) because everyone is monitoring themselves.
The next steps will be laid out in more detail in the handout:
Step Three: Break into Pairs
Partners help each other to understand the most pressing issues to discuss during their individual hot-seats.
Step Four: Activate the Hive Mind!
Follow the instructions in the handout. Hot-seats are timed in the way that has worked best for my groups. After you work with this a bit, you can alter it to suit your group.
Step Five: Five Minutes for Self-Reflection
The questions to ask yourself are listed on the handout. Each person reflects for themselves and there’s no need to share. These questions help all of us to make sure our behavior supports the whole Hive.
Step Six: Share
Share 3 things you learned from the hot-seat (both your own and other people’s). We all learn from each other. Noticing 3 take-aways from someone else’s hot-seat helps you realize that the whole experience is a sweet feast, not just the 20 minutes when the Hive is focused on you.
Have an issue you can’t quite resolve? Feeling frustrated or alone? Build a Hive. I promise, you are richer in resources than you could possibly imagine!
Hugs—
The post Hive Mind: Harnessing the Power of Community appeared first on Maia Toll.
June 7, 2019
Facing East: Becoming New Again
In nature, time is cyclical.
Around the world, people who know this use the symbol of the circle to show how time moves. Often times this circle is designed like a compass, thus combining the concept of time and place. The seasons are etched into the outer circle, while the inner circle— the center— is the place of spirit. This type of pictogram is called “wheel of the year” or, alternately, “the medicine wheel.”
You begin in the East where the sun rises.
You become in the South where light— that outward turning, always moving, yang energy— is strongest.
You learn to believe in the West, when you finally sink, like the sun, into yourself, coming to a bit of understanding.
And when the winter comes, when you curl around yourself like a wolf in its den, you face the North. Be still, the Earth whispers.
(Of course, all this gets turned on its head in the Southern Hemisphere.)
This wheel is a guide for any creative endeavor, showing us the arc of the experience of creating, actualizing, understanding, then resting so new seeds can germinate and we can create anew.
This same cycle is built into mythology. It’s the story of the Phoenix, burning to ash to rise again, and Persephone journeying yearly to the underworld and returning with the spring.
As I round the bend and come on yet another birthday, it’s beautiful to find myself in my personal North (a rest? Yes please!) with the promise of East shimmering on the horizon. I look around my office and the references are re-shelved after spending months stacked on the floor around my feet, the crystals are neatly stored, the latest book manuscript turned in. After a visit to my publishing house, new ideas are planted and I’m waiting to see which will germinate. The to-do list is getting shorter as the days get longer, and I know (soon!) I’ll be done for a spell…. And then Bestiary will be published, a new book contract will appear, Witch Camp will soar into my consciousness and I’ll eagerly face East, ready to begin again.
Turning East can be as subtle as the daily dawning of the sun or as jarring as a tree toppling unexpectedly. This particular cycle of my personal life— the shop, the teaching, the books— began with one of those rather extreme new beginnings. When I was thirty three years old, an age when many turn to the East and find their world is suddenly, drastically, shifted (I call thirty-three “the Jesus Year” because so many people I know go through a rebirth around that time), all that I knew came undone and I began again.
For me, that Jesus Year was time out of time. I faced East and the world remade itself. Everything was new. I was a single woman who had sold off the trappings of her previous life and planted herself in an isolated field in Ireland to see what she would become. I was unknown to the people around me… and to myself.
Now, days away from 50 (and I’m excited! Like my whole life has been building toward this glorious decade), I have community, a partner, a business to run. And yet, the wheel still turns. Dawn glimmers on the horizon. Life becomes about being both: the beginner and the teacher; the elder and the one who starts anew.
The closer we get to our own centers, the easier it is to hold space within for the teachings of all the directions.
We hold within us the Maiden, Warrior, Mother, and Wisdom Keeper, and in the course of a day, we might take a run through all of them. We head off to volunteer in the morning, the Warrior fighting for clean rivers or to keep animals safe, at noon we go far a long walk, facing East and seeing the world as new and unknown, at 2:15 we pull on the mother’s mantle to care for a sick friend or overwrought child, and by 6:30 we have donned the crone’s cloak to hold space for others to do their learning.
Over and over again, we walk the wheel. Rediscovering ourselves and creating our world anew.
Hugs—
The post Facing East: Becoming New Again appeared first on Maia Toll.
May 23, 2019
The Sumo Wrestler & the Tree: a Tale of Inner Peace
A few decades back, I visited my Aunt and Uncle, who were working in Singapore. It was a long flight, first to Japan and from there into Changi Airport. My body was a mess of minor aches and twitches after 26 hours in the air.
My Aunt decided that I needed the yoga cure-all and took me to her favorite class, which was held on the cool marble floors of a meeting hall inside a Hindu temple. Four long woven mats were unfurled, striping the echoing space. We lined up on the mats, one behind the other, waiting for the yogi to take his place at the head of the room.
At the time I had a regular yoga practice. I was (almost) over the self-consciousness of being a large-boned woman amongst the lithe and graceful American yoginis in their well-matched spandex and cute hoodie cover-ups.
So imagine my surprise when a man in a well-worn tank top and cut-off sweatpants (not a hint of Lycra or lean muscle mass in sight) took up the teacher’s mat. He was built more like a sumo wrestler than a greyhound and looking nothing like any yoga teacher I’d ever seen before (or since!).
After a class unlike any I had ever attended in the States, I approached the front. I was a bit in awe of this large man who could support his considerable weight on one arm. When it was my turn to speak with him, I blurted the first question that came to mind:
Why do you do yoga?
He didn’t pause to consider his answer, just smiled gently and explained that yoga is a pathway to inner balance. Once you find that balance, the goings-on of the external world no longer shake you. You can live on a park bench, he told me, in happiness and joy.
If you've done the inner work of rooting and grounding, of digging deep, there's a place for your energy to go to regroup and regrow when the wind whips and the storm rages.
Click To Tweet
Why am I pondering this story today?
Because even when you’ve spent your time honing your inner-self so that you can stand in your power, life inevitably happens.
I like to think of the goings-on of our lives as what happens with the above ground parts of a tree. There may be storms and lightening strikes, high winds and early frost. This is simply life. Branches will crack and break. Termites will chew. Woodpeckers will have their way. Life might hurt. It might hurt badly at times.
This is life above ground. If your roots are shallow, the goings-on up there can deeply compromise your whole being.
But if you’ve done the inner work of rooting and grounding, of digging deep, there’s a place for your energy to regroup and regrow when the wind whips and the storm rages.
This is why we practice getting grounded and finding inner peace.
This is why we hone our spirits to hold and reflect love: not so we can escape from the world, but so we can survive in it.
May your roots grow deep and strong.
Hugs,
P.S. When life gets rocky, pour some chamomile tea, rose petal elixir, and a dose of Five Flower Formula on those deepening roots. Think of it as fertilizer for the soul. Need a little more kick? Check out Ground Your Shit, a series of grounding exercises I did a while back.
The post The Sumo Wrestler & the Tree: a Tale of Inner Peace appeared first on Maia Toll.
May 9, 2019
My Favorite “Secret:” Your Life’s Purpose is Not Your Job Title
(Yup, this is a flashback. If Oprah ever asks if every word is true, I won’t be able to say for certain. Memories soften, get a little fuzzy, and are often sweeter in the re-telling.
Truth? Oprah scares me. I once saw her interview a memoirist and ask if every word was accurate. Accuracy and memory are, at best, fraternal twins.
But I digress…)
Lying prone on a hillside in the arboretum, the grass pokes through the cotton blanket, tickling my stomach. (This was before Lyme Disease became part of my consciousness, back when I laid on the ground with abandon, worrying only about an occasional ant.) The scent of barbecue, beer, and Johnson’s Baby Oil (yup, pre-SPF, too) overpowers the whispers of wild honeysuckle and pine from the woods below.
Conversation drifts round my circle of friends. We speculate on post-college life and who each of us will be when we “grow up.”
Before long we’ve identified two teachers, an accountant, a social worker, an advertising exec, and a P.T.A. mom. The tone is light with the sweet notes of women who know each other well, who see each other’s souls, and can fish gems of truth from the depths of self. As each truth emerges, sparkling, a bit of soul-light shines on us all.
I wait expectantly… there’s something magical about being seen (which is why we go to tarot reader and astrologers, right? We want someone else to acknowledge the depths we feel within ourselves). I wonder what my friends, my housemates this past year, will see in me. I wonder if they know my life’s purpose (’cause I sure don’t!).
There's something magical about being seen. We want someone else to acknowledge the depths we feel within ourselves.
Click To Tweet
Our soft gaze is on Kristin, and then only I will be left. The conversation moves on and I hold my breath…
….And then we’re talking about boyfriends and dinner plans.
I wait a few moments, looking from one friend to another, before asking in small voice, “What about me?”
The pause stretches out as each person stares at me, waiting for someone else to speak. Finally my roommate Susan nudges my shoulder. “We have no idea what you’re going to be,” she says with a quick grin, “but we can’t wait to find out.”
Fast forward to now.
There’s something in our human nature that desperately wants to be known.
In many tribal cultures it’s thought that each person, each soul born on this planet, has a very special spark they carry into this world. This spark is similar to the spark that someone else carries in the way one leaf is similar to the next, each is unique and necessary. This is our personal Medicine.
In modern “civilized” cultures, very few of us know our Medicine; but in our secret hearts, we feel that it’s there. We know that we have a special gift to give to the world and to ourselves. We know that living in alignment with this Medicine is tied to our health and happiness… so we’re constantly seeking: looking for who we are, searching for our life’s purpose. And because of the constructs of our culture, we think this information is going to come in the form of a job title.
But often our Medicine is a light that emanates from us touching those we know in a daily, yet profound, way.
Flash back to moving out day, Ann Arbor, Michigan:
Susan and I have a morning routine: after the alarm goes off and we yawn and stretch and grump, we put The Indigo Girls “Closer to Fine” in the CD player (remember CD players?). We jump around on our unmade beds singing at the top of our lungs. We’re equally off-key and equally exuberant.
This morning, this last morning, Susan hops off her bed and turns down the stereo after the Indigo Girls sing the last chorus of there’s more than one answer to these questions pointing me in a crooked line. And the less I seek my source for some definitive the closer I am to fiiiii-innnnne…
“I think of you every time I hear this song,” Susan says quietly. She continues, quoting the lyrics, “The best thing you’ve ever done for me, is to help me take my life less seriously. It’s only life after all…”
This is Medicine.
* * *
It took me another two decades to understand that on that beautiful day in the Ann Arbor Arboretum, my housemates did see me clearly. They did know what I was going to do with my life. It just wasn’t, and isn’t, something that had or has a clear job title.
Your Medicine is bigger than a job title. Feel into it: what’s the light you shine into the lives of those around you? How do you make your world a little better every day, just by being alive and being you?
Big Hugs—
P.S. Sing it with me:
There’s more than one answer to these questions pointing me in a crooked line….
The post My Favorite “Secret:” Your Life’s Purpose is Not Your Job Title appeared first on Maia Toll.
May 3, 2019
Brownies, Bird Remedies, and Other Things That Obviously Don’t Belong in a Blog Post
I took a writing workshop with Tom Robbins (if you haven’t read Tom Robbins, stop reading this and go download Jitterbug Perfume. I promise you won’t be disappointed).
Since it was a while back, I’m running fast and loose with Tom’s exact phrasing. Essentially, he told us that the job of a writer is to connect disparate things, like a Twinkie and Jupiter, or the chiming of a grandfather clock and a swallow’s mad dash through the barn eaves.
This blog post may not succeed in corralling that kind of connection. In fact, I suspect it will be a bit like brownies pulled from the oven too soon— warm and gooey and yummy… but not quite brownies. If you need it all wrapped up neatly at the end, this is your chance to hop off: the ride may get a bit… elusive… from here.
It probably started back in Ireland, when a flight of ravens flew raucously over my head as I lay in the grass recovering from jet leg. Perhaps I wouldn’t have sworn they were talking to me if I wasn’t deliriously tired… perhaps.
Still, it seems the Irish knew a bit about birds and a bit about people. More than once during my stay there, I overheard someone say to my teacher: She’s the Morrigan’s, that one.
If you don’t know your Celtic goddesses, the Morrigan was a warrior goddess. I’ve always wondered how all those Irish folk knew I was chatting up her birds?
On the surface, the Morrigan’s a bit of a dark character: her ravens flew over battlefields deciding who would live and who would die. But “The Morrigan,” it turns out, is not a name, it’s a title: The Great Queen. Sovereignty. That’s something we all need to learn to step into.
The Morrigan’s daughters are those of us who have an independent streak and a heavy dose of self-sovereignty.
Fast forward to an appointment with my homeopath, a woman I’ve known for many years. After months of being out of sorts, I decided someone who wasn’t me should be consulted. Linda took my case. I mentioned to her that I’m often given snake remedies. Linda thought about that and said, I’m not sure. Maybe snake, but I am leaning toward bird.
A bird remedy? I didn’t know there were bird remedies!
(And if you’re thinking Whoa, Maia, I didn’t think there were snake or bird remedies, because neither of those are herbs, then jump to the bottom where I’ll give you the low down on the difference between homeopathy and herbalism.)
As soon as Linda said bird remedy, I said Corvus. Raven.
As we packed the car to leave for Arizona a few weeks later, a crow (raven’s cousin) followed us from the house to the street where it perched on a power-line, cawing. The raven remedy was in my bag so I could take it while I was away and out from under everyday stresses.
When I arrived in Arizona, I prepared the doses and took them as prescribed.
Bird remedies, it turns out, are about feeling trapped. Corvus is about a need for freedom, for self-sovereignty.
It started me thinking about the traps, the sand pits of daily life, the gilded cages we lock ourselves in and the countless reasons (jobs and houses, family and friends) we don’t simply open the door.
It started me thinking about the spirit of place and if part of feeling “trapped” was about feeling out of place. And that spiraled me into the countless times I’ve felt like I’m in the wrong place or even the wrong era….
Then my brain hopscotched to the many times I’ve sworn I couldn’t: couldn’t live where I wanted to, couldn’t be comfortable in that crowd, couldn’t get the basketball through the hoop, when in fact I had the key to could buried deep in my coat pocket, waiting to be fished out from under crumpled notes and wads of tissue.
How many of my traps were of my own design?
How many of my traps were of my own design?
Click To Tweet
And this, my friends, is where the brownies get pulled from the oven, not quite baked. Because, in typical blog post format, I would now present the defining moment that pulls it all together, the final strand that forever links a Twinkie to Jupiter.
But there is no denouement, no epic moment on offer. Instead, there’s a twinkling of small moments, little stars that have cast their light on a myriad of doors and locks and keys.
There’s always a chance to find out a little more about ourselves, to unlock another door.
Hugs—
What’s the difference between Herbalism and Homeopathy?
Folks so often come into Herbiary phrasing their questions in ways that makes it clear they’re confused about the difference between Herbalism and Homeopathy.
Herbalism works with plant-based medicines. We have different potencies: an essential oil is a concentrate, a flower essence is an extreme dilution. Often we work in the middle range, with teas and tinctures, which deliver a material dose of the plant.
Homeopathy works on two key principals: like cures like and less is more (i.e. the more diluted a homeopathic remedy is, the stronger it’s considered to be). Homeopathy draws its remedies from the diversity of the natural world, often using minerals and animal matter. Because it’s so dilute, homeopathy is able to use plants that might be poisonous at herbal dosage.
The post Brownies, Bird Remedies, and Other Things That Obviously Don’t Belong in a Blog Post appeared first on Maia Toll.
April 16, 2019
Humans Can Get It Mind-Bogglingly Right: A Symbol of Hope in the Ashes
For the seventeenth time, smoke billowed in a tawny cloud, a sunset glow lighting Notre Dame’s spire. It blackened, becoming skeletal, a tensile outline against the evening sky. For a heart wrenching moment, it seemed to become something indestructible… and so its collapse made no sense. In mere seconds the new and starkly drawn structure was completely erased.
I’ve never been to Notre Dame (or to Paris for that matter), but in architecture school I studied its revolutionary flying buttresses and drenched myself in images of its stained glass windows. In dreams, I’ve sat high on the turrets sharing a pizza with the gargoyles and prowled the crypts below the cathedral searching for the Roman ruins on which it was built.
Notre Dame has become, in my heart, a symbol not for a city or a religion, but for the mind-boggling ingenuity of the human race. Flying buttresses changes what was possible in architecture making dark windowless spaces airy and light. It’s this creative power that gives me hope through the madcap denial of the melting ice sheets, the senseless starvation of millions of people who don’t have a seat at our bountiful table, and the daily angst of non-recyclable Terra chip bags (a veggie chip brand that’s named Terra, which literally means “earth,” helping destroy the planet one delicious chip at a time— yes, Alanis, it really is ironic).
When I spiral into overwhelm and don’t know how to stop being a part of the problem, I pull out one of my architectural history books and remind myself of the mastery it took to build the pyramids and the Parthenon. In photos, I walk through Faye Jones’ Thorncrown Chapel or the masterpiece of La Sagrada Familia. We humans are capable of getting it so beautifully and breathtakingly right.
We humans are capable of getting it so beautifully and breathtakingly right.
Click To Tweet
As the cathedral burned, I watched from half a world away as Parisians and tourists lined the streets and began to sing. I stared in awe and wonder as the squares of Paris became sacred space, an outdoor church whose congregants, people of all races and creeds and political leanings, held, just this once, the same faith. Faith in the over-arching goodness of humanity. Belief in our ability get it right.
Maybe we needed this.
Maybe we needed to lose something precious, not in dribs and drabs, but instantly so that we would notice the wonder that is disappearing more slowly: the honey bees and the monarch butterflies, the goldenseal and the white sage.
Maybe we needed this to look at the erosion of our democracy. To be reminded that our laws and social structures should celebrate our shared humanity. That together we are on our knees watching one of our best creations burn.
Maybe, just maybe, moments like this are opportunities to stand with each other and remember the glory we can create with our hands and our minds. Maybe this is a chance to come together to restore what we’ve lost and save what we’re still losing.
Maybe this is a moment when we can remember that we still have a chance to get it beautifully and mind-bogglingly right.
Hugs—
The post Humans Can Get It Mind-Bogglingly Right: A Symbol of Hope in the Ashes appeared first on Maia Toll.
April 4, 2019
House Hunting in Mercury Retrograde
You’ve heard the Mercury Retrograde warnings: don’t get in a fight with your boss, don’t get in a fight with your spouse, don’t get in a fight with your mom (in fact, if you’re feeling fight-y, give yourself a time out in a cave high in the Himalayas), don’t sign contracts, and be sure to wear a hat, ’cause your computer’s bound to implode and get viscous electronic goo all over your just washed hair.
Mercury Retrograde is like Darth Vader: stalking us through the year, making our lives miserable for the amusement of the dark forces of the universe.
Really?
Before you drink the Kool-Aid (yup, I’m going full 80’s on you, probably because every house we’ve looked at this week was built in that era of questionable architectural taste), let’s get the low down on what Mercury Retrograde really is:
When you watch the night sky from our position on Earth, you’ll notice that the planets seem to move along the horizon. But WHOA!, every once in a while, Mercury (the planet of communication) moves backward, covering territory it’s already crossed. This reverse loop de loop is Mercury Retrograde. But note that neither our orbit nor Mercury’s has actually changed. Mercury’s retrograde action is an illusion caused by our earthly perspective. And this is actually important!
How does this back-walking energy affect life here on Earth?
Mercury Retrograde is the cosmic equivalent of a cow chewing its cud, more like Ground Hog Day than The Empire Strikes Back. It’s a time that everything gets regurgitated and needs to be re-chewed before it's digestible.
Click To Tweet
So a really fun time to be house hunting, she writes, with her tongue firmly lodged in her cheek.
Let’s rewind for a bit of context:
Once upon five years ago, we moved to a small, hundred year old cottage in Asheville, NC. This charming spot had a wide-armed Oak towering over the back yard, a half acre for the dogs to romp, and a kitchen designed to cause chaos and grease fires. Add to that knob and tube wiring, asbestos shingles, popcorn ceilings, and ancient, painted-shut windows, and you’ll realize what we really signed up for was five years of living in a constant renovation project.
Of course, just like with every house I’ve moved into (there was a gorgeous Victorian in the Mount Airy neighborhood of Philadelphia which was the exception), I declared this my forever home. I knew every paint color because I’d chosen it and every plant in the garden because I’d planted it. So imagine my surprise when, as winter turned to spring, a new seedling popped up. It seemed like a weed at first, something to dig out or at least prune back. But it was persistent and wound its way into my soul whispering, it’s time to move on.
At first we denied it, then we put it off. “We’ll look for something new at the end of the year,” we said. But it was too late. This new seedling was strong and it weaseled its way into our hearts. We dreamed of having space to spread out so my next book manuscript wouldn’t be lost amongst the Herbiary invoices and breakfast plates. We imagined inviting friends to Asheville and being able to say, come stay with us.
So, as Mercury began its backward dance in the sky, we began our house hunt. Some were too small, some were too big. They were too far from town, too close to neighbors, needed too much work, or were so sterile I could never call them home. Finally, we walked into a house that felt like it was ours. We looked at each other and smiled. This was it…
… until Andrew took a turn around the grounds and found a utility company antenna. Still, we imagined putting in a bid, hoping the antenna was an out of use relic.
When the call came from our realtor that she’d tracked the antenna back to the water department and learned from the energy company that it pulled a hundred dollars worth of power a month, we knew we had to walk away. I’m ridiculously sensitive to electric and wi-fi frequencies. Our just-right house was now an impossibility.
We continued looking and found another place that made us smile. We began to prepare a bid and, in a moment of inspiration, I said to Andrew, “Mercury goes direct tomorrow at 10 am. Let’s wait til then to put in our offer.”
The next morning at quarter after nine my phone rang. It was our realtor:
“I know we’re about to put in a bid, and I don’t want to throw a wrench in the works, but I just got a call from the realtor for the Mountain Lane house. You’re not gonna believe this, but the water company came yesterday and took down the antenna. Seems they suddenly realized they were paying a hundred dollars a month on an antenna they weren’t using.”
This is house hunting in Mercury Retrograde. It’s a chance to revisit, rethink, and create space so serendipity can happen.
We revisited the Mountain Lane house before putting in the other offer. Standing in the foyer, I asked Andrew, “Well, which is it?”
He answered, “The other house makes me smile with my mouth, but this house makes me smile with my eyes.”
And the eyes have it! If all inspections go well, I’ll have a new “forever” house before you know it.
When I got home, I texted my friend Ash Sierra of Ritual Botanica. She’s an herbalist and astrologer, the perfect person to laugh with over the ups and downs of house hunting in Mercury Retrograde. She texted back:
Mercury retrograde is like that gut feeling you get ten minutes down the road that sends you back home to find you’ve left your altar candle burning too close to the curtains. If you ignore that feeling, your car just might break down, eventually getting you back home in a different way. Merc Retrograde gets a bad rap, doomed with technology malfunctions and communication misunderstandings. But if you listen, you’ll realize its gifts: it slows forward momentum, dimming the everyday rational mind so that we can pay attention to our intuitive self. It opens up space for tuning into Spirit, checking in to make sure our path forward is on the right track, that our relationships, projects, emotional needs are all being met in a way that resonates true and healthy with what our soul requires. Pay attention to the mishaps, they offer keys to leading our best life.
Yes, that.
Hugs—
The post House Hunting in Mercury Retrograde appeared first on Maia Toll.
