Maia Toll's Blog, page 4

Guide to the Darkest Nights: Finding Joy

Think of yourself as a seed, deep in the Earth’s dark soil…

What do you dream of becoming?

Do you know your passion? Your form? The shape of your flower?

The acorn knows all of this. Even though it will take a decade for it to mature beyond sapling and a hundred years to build it’s girth, the acorn already contains the pattern for the Oak it will become.

We often go into our own future waiting to see what’ll happen next, picturing ourselves as a leaf getting carried hither and thither by the currents of time. But what if you’re an acorn, not a leaf?

What if deep within you, you already know the pattern of your own being and all you have to do is grow into it?
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Hmmmm… you might be thinking, sounds juicy. But how the heck do I connect with this mystical Yoda-self who knows all?

Step by step. I’m going to walk you through it this month, so stay tuned (and do your homework!).

Here’s your homework for this week:

Step #1: Start each day by opening your heart (so that steps 2 and 3 flow with ease).

My favorite heart-opener is rose and there are so many ways to let her speak to you:

put of drop of rose essential oil over your heart
tape a picture of a rose (or many roses) on your bathroom mirror
find a rose screen-saver
have a cup of rose tea
savor a few drops of rose petal elixir… or rose conserves… or rose syrup
have a square of a rose chocolate bar
put a drop of rose essential oil on the palm of your hand and rub your hands together. Place them over your nose and inhale. Breath in and call-in joy, breath out and release what no longer serves your life and happiness.

Not a rose-person? No problem! Try this instead: remember a time when you’re heart felt open. Maybe it was at the birth of your child, or watching the moon rise over the mountains, or the moment you felt your body lighten and fly when you were running on the beach as a teenager. Go back to that moment when your heart felt wide open and free. Feel it again… and your heart will open again.

Step #2: Get in touch with what makes you happy and what brings you joy.

Sounds simple, huh? And yet so many of us lose track of our happiness.

Move past the surface things.  Move past what you think brings you joy and look instead for what truly lifts your heart.

For example, what do I mean by “what you think brings your joy?” Sometimes we hold onto an old version of ourselves and, with it, an out-dated version of our happiness. As an adult I kept thinking: horseback riding brings me joy. I wish I had the time and money to do it again! I was sure that I would find my happiness when I returned to riding. It took a while to make it happen, but I was eventually able to get back to the horses, sharing board on a small white trail horse named Cody.

Twice a week I dragged my butt out to the barn and took Cody for a spin in the woods. Secretly, I was bored to tears and a bit annoyed at myself for creating this commitment. But I thought that horse back riding in the woods should bring me joy so I kept at it for far longer than I should have.

Dig deeper than what you used to love and think you should love. Ponder your joy. Don’t make it concrete yet. Look for the texture of it, the colors, the sound, the movement, the scent.

Then collect words and pictures and poems and songs….

Collect with abandon. If it whispers to you of happiness, pull it closer. Print and clip pictures that inspire you.

This is not a time for restraint, this is a time for celebration!  Later we’ll hone and refine and clarify. Right now, dive deeply into whatever lifts your heart.

Step #3: Every day, notice one thing that you don’t want to bring into the New Year.

This can be an actual thing: like the grease-covered toaster you inherited from Aunt Hilda that burns every piece of bread that’s ever been dumped in its gullet, or it can be an emotion or a behavior (like being snotty with your mother whenever she comments on your clothing. Yes, I know she was snotty first. Let it go.)

Keep a running list of things to release. Fill notebooks and journals. Hoard only spaciousness and levity.

The only thing I ask is that you do this work by hand. There’s a special connection between your hand and the page that’s not replicated by typing on the computer. Plus, I want you to have a real-world, pulp-and-fiber, touchable document.

Hugs—

The post Guide to the Darkest Nights: Finding Joy appeared first on Maia Toll.

Finding Joy: A Step by Step Guide

Think of yourself as a seed, deep in the Earth’s dark soil…

What do you dream of becoming?

Do you know your passion? Your form? The shape of your flower?

The acorn knows all of this. Even though it will take a decade for it to mature beyond sapling and a hundred years to build it’s girth, the acorn already contains the pattern for the Oak it will become.

We often go into our own future waiting to see what’ll happen next, picturing ourselves as a leaf getting carried hither and thither by the currents of time. But what if you’re an acorn, not a leaf?

What if deep within you, you already know the pattern of your own being and all you have to do is grow into it?
Click To Tweet

Hmmmm… you might be thinking, sounds juicy. But how the heck do I connect with this mystical Yoda-self who knows all?

Step by step. I’m going to walk you through it this month, so stay tuned (and do your homework!).

Here’s your homework for this week:

Step #1: Start each day by opening your heart (so that steps 2 and 3 flow with ease).

My favorite heart-opener is rose and there are so many ways to let her speak to you:

put of drop of rose essential oil over your heart
tape a picture of a rose (or many roses) on your bathroom mirror
find a rose screen-saver
have a cup of rose tea
savor a few drops of rose petal elixir… or rose conserves… or rose syrup
have a square of a rose chocolate bar
put a drop of rose essential oil on the palm of your hand and rub your hands together. Place them over your nose and inhale. Breath in and call-in joy, breath out and release what no longer serves your life and happiness.

Not a rose-person? No problem! Try this instead: remember a time when you’re heart felt open. Maybe it was at the birth of your child, or watching the moon rise over the mountains, or the moment you felt your body lighten and fly when you were running on the beach as a teenager. Go back to that moment when your heart felt wide open and free. Feel it again… and your heart will open again.

Step #2: Get in touch with what makes you happy and what brings you joy.

Sounds simple, huh? And yet so many of us lose track of our happiness.

Move past the surface things.  Move past what you think brings you joy and look instead for what truly lifts your heart.

For example, what do I mean by “what you think brings your joy?” Sometimes we hold onto an old version of ourselves and, with it, an out-dated version of our happiness. As an adult I kept thinking: horseback riding brings me joy. I wish I had the time and money to do it again! I was sure that I would find my happiness when I returned to riding. It took a while to make it happen, but I was eventually able to get back to the horses, sharing board on a small white trail horse named Cody.

Twice a week I dragged my butt out to the barn and took Cody for a spin in the woods. Secretly, I was bored to tears and a bit annoyed at myself for creating this commitment. But I thought that horse back riding in the woods should bring me joy so I kept at it for far longer than I should have.

Dig deeper than what you used to love and think you should love. Ponder your joy. Don’t make it concrete yet. Look for the texture of it, the colors, the sound, the movement, the scent.

Then collect words and pictures and poems and songs….

Collect with abandon. If it whispers to you of happiness, pull it closer. Print and clip pictures that inspire you.

This is not a time for restraint, this is a time for celebration!  Later we’ll hone and refine and clarify. Right now, dive deeply into whatever lifts your heart.

Step #3: Every day, notice one thing that you don’t want to bring into the New Year.

This can be an actual thing: like the grease-covered toaster you inherited from Aunt Hilda that burns every piece of bread that’s ever been dumped in its gullet, or it can be an emotion or a behavior (like being snotty with your mother whenever she comments on your clothing. Yes, I know she was snotty first. Let it go.)

Keep a running list of things to release. Fill notebooks and journals. Hoard only spaciousness and levity.

The only thing I ask is that you do this work by hand. There’s a special connection between your hand and the page that’s not replicated by typing on the computer. Plus, I want you to have a real-world, pulp-and-fiber, touchable document.

Hugs—

The post Finding Joy: A Step by Step Guide appeared first on Maia Toll.

Why It’s Important to Have a Toolkit for Happiness: 4 Gratitude Practices You’ll Actually Use

Some people are grateful all the time.

I’m not one of them.

I tend to be a striver, an achiever, a “what’s next?” kinda gal.

For me, gratitude has to be a ritual, otherwise it only happens on the rare occasion when something completely out of the ordinary whacks me over the head with the wonderfulness of this world.

So, as a Thanksgiving treat, I thought I’d share my super-easy gratitude practices (the ones I actually do.)

But before we get into the doing of it, let’s talk about why gratitude matters anyway.

It’s pretty easy to put gratitude practices in the trendy column and move on with your cynical life. But gratitude is a trend for a reason: your thoughts are rewiring your brain all the time.

This is important, so, one more time:

Your thoughts are rewiring your brain all the time.

Don’t believe me? Hear it from a Harvard-trained psychologist (this dude must take stand-up comedy courses because he is super-funny!):

Gratitude literally causes chemical changes in your brain, which causes a positivity chain reaction. Gratitude:

increases dopamine, the feel-good chemical;
dopamine increases your level of happiness (this begins a positive feedback loop);
dopamine turns on the learning centers in your brain, so happier = smarter.

My family started saying what we were thankful for as a way of beginning the Thanksgiving meal many decades ago. We’ve since added to family dinner “best of the day” and “best of the week.”

But I don’t have large family gatherings on a daily basis, so I’ve come up with some daily rituals (that I can actually stick with!) to keep my dopamine flowing:

 

1. Three Gratitudes Before Bed

I don’t speak these out loud or write them down. I just say them quietly within my own brain when I get into bed at night. Easy-peasy.

2. Giving with Both Hands

When I was traveling in Thailand, I was told that it’s considered rude to give or receive with one hand. This has stuck with me. When I pay my hairdresser or massage therapist, I use both hands and consciously remember to be grateful for the service and care they provided.

3. Remembering Happiness

This is cool: remembering a happy moment creates happiness. My moment was coming up over the mountains on I-84 in New York and seeing the sunset blazing over the Hudson River. My heart opened wide. I relive that moment a few times a week and can feel the radiating joy (and dopamine!) for hours after.

4. An Essential Pick-Me-Up

We all have scents that make us happy because smell is connected to our hind-brain, the most primitive part of us, where emotions are triggered.

What’s your happy scent?

For me, the scent is jasmine. An under-note of citrus (like bergamot or lime) makes it even better! When I need to go to my happy place, I put a drop on my hand, rub my hands together, and hold them over my nose or I put a few drops in my diffuser and scent the whole room.

 

Life’s gonna throw you curve balls. It’s what life does.

It’s important to have a toolkit for happiness.

Having a gratitude practice puts you in the driver’s seat. You can’t control the world around you, but you can control how ready and resilient you are to receiving it.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Big hugs—

 

Don’t Pass the Tissues

Don’t pass the tissues.

The group looked at me in horror.

Really?  The poor woman has snot dripping down her face and I think that’s a little spit on the side of her mouth.

Yup. Still don’t pass the tissues.

This is one of the toughest lessons us humans need to learn.

We want to fix every problem with hugs or cookies or sound financial advice. We wanna show up with screw drivers or swords or whatever the heck is needed to help you get your house in order and slay your internal dragons.

We humans feel good when we’re helping.

And that’s the problem: helping is often as much about the helper as it is about the helpee.

So I’m sitting in the circle of women, clasping my hands together to keep from reaching for the box of Kleenex (it’s not that I lack empathy, it’s that I’ve learned from countless circles and clients that there’s something better than passing those tissues). I shove my internal dialogue about wanting to pass those dang tissues into the back corner of my brain as I focus my attention on the woman across the circle who’s unraveling. My face is schooled to neutral and my body language is attentive (but not invasive. No leaning in, thank you.) I’m picturing a circle around all of us, keeping her safe as she digs into her own dark places.

This is how to hold space. And it’s hard as hell.

When you work in the realms of healing and interpersonal transformation (which is also the realms of being a parent, a friend, or an employer if you’re doing those things consciously), you quickly realize that people need 3 things to grow:

guidance,
accountability
space to learn to hear their own inner voice and to learn to trust it

It’s hard to learn to trust yourself if the outside world is foisting their emotions and opinions and tissues on you.

What you need more than tissues is a safe space to hear yourself think.
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I often joke that, like blood, my thoughts change color when they hit the air.

This is true for many of us; sometimes we need space to speak in order to understand ourselves.

And those of us on the edge of the circle? Our job is to crack open a sliver of quietude in the busy-ness of this world, and then protect that quiet moment with all we’ve got.

When we can voice our thoughts, feelings, and intuitions—even if they don’t “make sense” or conform to societal notions of what you should say out loud—we begin to uncover bits of ourselves that are wounded or uncertain. And bringing these bits to the light initiates healing. It’s the beginning point for wholeness, it’s the moment someone begins to take back their power and comes home to themselves.

People are transformed by being able to safely share their story.

Being heard and feeling understood is one of the most important parts of the process we go through to heal not only our bodies but also our spirits.

And so I wait. It’s hard, hard, hard to wait. To not hug. To give space. To make space sacred.

But in this sacred space, I don’t get to dump my desires on someone else, even if my desire is to clean up the snot stream before it reaches her hair. She’s in charge and even the choice of a tissue is potent with power.

And then the moment comes. She reaches for the Kleenex…. and I ask her if she wants a hug.

If you want a hug, I’m sending a big one—

 

The post Don’t Pass the Tissues appeared first on Maia Toll.

Are You Being Honest with Yourself?

I forget what it’s like to worry about fitting in.

What it’s like to “put my face on” before heading out into the world.

Don’t get me wrong— I know those trying-to-fit-in-and-scared-that-I’m-messing-it-all-up feelings oh so well.

As a pudgy, nonathletic kid, those feelings stalked me every time Mrs. Kriebel yelled “Run 3 laps!” during fifth grade gym class. Those feelings followed me up the stairs as I slunk to the library during high school lunch rather than try to find someone to eat with in the cafeteria. And those same feelings surfaced in college, a plastic smile glued to my face and my green suede boots sticking to the gummy floor as I pretended to like beer and care which Sigma Nu pledge was the hottest.

But at some point in my mid-twenties I got tired of being stalked by my fear of social disapproval… especially since coloring within the lines wasn’t actually making me a happy person.

I realized I didn’t want to waste my life hiding my true self or, worse, wishing I was someone else.

I was tired of only being accepted when I was pretending to be someone I wasn’t…

… and not actually enjoying the acceptance I was getting for all my fakery.

It was time to come out of the closet.

Over the next decade, I practiced being me: I dated men and, oh-my-gawd, women; I stopped pretending to like piss-water beer; I stood up to people who treated others like shit. I lived through the six months when my mom wouldn’t talk to me and the six more months when all we did was cry and fight.

I put my integrity above my upbringing and decided my internal moral compass trumped social mores. I learned to see myself fully and not brush the parts I didn’t like under the rug. It was hard work, but a heck of a lot easier than pretending to be someone I wasn’t.

Common wisdom insists that you are loved just as you are. But let’s be honest (’cause that’s what we do around here):

People in your life often love the you they choose to see or the you they wish you’d be.

Being honest about who you are isn’t about easy. It’s never been about easy. But our society moves forward only if each of us is willing to be real and honest and true. Only if each of us in some small way pushes the needle forward.

When we are honest with ourselves and those we love, we open a space for conversation, for reinvention, for the new.

(When we’re belligerent in our honesty we instead close doors. How you chose to express your honesty matters. Give people space to grow and change their minds. Give yourself space to grow and change your mind.)

Remember we take a stand not only for the integrity of our own spirit, but to make it easier for those who come after. Every time a battered woman leaves an abusive husband, she makes it easier for her daughter to live a life free of abuse. Every time a woman says no to sexism in the work place, she makes that work safer for the women who come after.

Martha Beck, who wrote a very brave book about leaving the Mormon Church, says the magic in sharing her story was that it allowed others to share theirs. It encouraged them to speak up, if only to whisper me too.

I think about this when I get the inevitable emails from women in Witch Camp wishing I’d change the name.

I know so many women who would join if it weren’t called Witch Camp, the email goes.

Or:

I want to tell my friends about this but I can’t because it’s called Witch Camp.

I get these emails from Witch Campers. From women who have already committed but are scared or ashamed of what they’ve done. They’re half in, half out. Wanting to say yes to the part of themselves which opened up when they saw the word witch. And still scared of being judged by friends and family.

So instead of sharing what the word witch means to them, they hope I’ll change the name.

Here’s what I tell women who want to explore their witchy side but are scared their friends won’t get it:

When I started saying witch, women started whispering back me too.
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If I’m not brave enough to use the word witch, to shout it out on the interwebs, then those whispers will be muffled and all those women will feel alone; they’ll eat in the library instead of joining the rest of us round the campfire; they’ll never realize that what they feel is felt by so many of us.

Maybe “witchy” isn’t your thing. And that’s okay. We all choose where we want to make our stands, what’s worth fighting for.

Just be willing to stand for something because figuring out what that is, what you’re willing to speak to and who you’re willing to speak for, lets you know who you really are.

Me? I stand with the woman who needs to see beyond cultural norms so she can find herself. I stand with the woman who has been hurt or simply unhelped by our healthcare system and needs an alternative. I stand with the woman who needs to map her own path to the spirit.

Me? I stand by the woman who is scared but willing to whisper me too.*

If that’s you, Witch Camp online is just starting. You can still take a deep breath and come to the campfire. Details are here.

And speaking of making a stand:

If you live in the U.S., please vote.

I know it can feel disempowering to stand in that little booth, making your picks… and then feel so unrepresented. But did you know that “one of every 100,000 votes cast in U.S. elections, and one of every 15,000 votes cast in state elections, ‘mattered’ in the sense that they were cast for a candidate that officially tied or won by one vote” (The Empirical Frequency of the Pivotal Vote)?

What if that one vote is yours?

Love, love, love—

 

* P.S. I’ve been rewriting and tinkering with this blog post for a couple years, since before the “Me Too Movement.” I love that we’re letting the secrets out and finally realizing that we don’t stand alone, knowing in our hearts that whatever we’ve gone through, there is someone out there whispering “me too.”

The post Are You Being Honest with Yourself? appeared first on Maia Toll.

Spiritual Tools Every Witchy Woman Needs

My teacher in Ireland used to say:

Use the tools until you don’t need them anymore.

“The tools” are things like essential oils and flower essences, teas and tarot cards, crystals, malas and rosary beads. They are the candles you light to hone your focus, the breathing exercises that calm your mind, and the shells and stones on your altar which remind you what you are made of.

These spiritual tools help our physical selves connect with our inner-wisdom, our energy bodies, our souls.

This Jewish girl has owned rosary beads and Kwan Yin statues, citrine points and oracle decks…

… because they help me to connect with the deepest parts of me.

An object is just an object until you— or someone else— infuses it with meaning and energy.
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These objects begin to feel a bit alive, like they have spirit and being.

Think of your grandmother’s favorite necklace or the small spade your mother used all summer in the garden…  feel don’t think. This idea of an object having spirit is something your heart knows, even when your brain protests.

These spirit-infused objects become touchstones that provide a sensual experience which help you to stay grounded in your body as you do your spiritual work. And make no mistake, wellness, done this way, is spiritual work.

Which is why I think of this path that I walk, that you walk, as the earth path.

It’s a path not only of respect for the planet but of embodiment, of knowing we are made, not just of star-stuff, but of earth matter.

And these stones and acorns and bits of mica which collect on our altars? The goddess statues and mala beads and quartz points? These don’t automatically confer wellness or spirituality or wisdom.

And, no, you don’t need them.

But they can be a reminder, a doorway, a focus point, a mirror, and a connection to your inner-wisdom and your own true self…

… because turning inward and finding you is the best path outward into the greater mystery.

Wanna go deeper into how to use these spiritual tools in a way that works for you? Join me for Witch Camp and learn to craft your own rituals, find meaning in the mundane, and use connection to your ancestors to get in touch with deeper wisdoms unique to you.

We begin October 20th. Grab your spot and let your witchy side out to play.

With big hugs—

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You Belong to the Wild and Wondrous

You’re hard-wired for wonder…

… for pausing to study sunsets and the afterglow of lightning flashing through the summer sky.

It’s really that simple.

And yet, the same hard-wiring which allows for so much joy can lead you on a merry chase for meaning, for logic, and scientific explanations. When we become overly analytical we close the door on everyday magic. We end up living in Mundania with no mystery in sight. I’ve been down this path: it led to longing, disconnection, and even depression.

When we fail to recognize the wondrous in the daily, we lose a necessary part of ourselves.

I’m not exempt. After the umpteenth time sucking my thumb in the abyss of Why-The-Heck-Are-We-Even-Here, I came back with this basic truth: sometimes we have to allow life to have meaning.

Wonder is always there– you just have to give it an opening in your soul.

But how? How do you reconnect, plug in, get into the flow, read the signs… when you’re smashed face-down at the bottom of the well?

Let me tell you a story:

Years ago I took a writing workshop with Tom Robbins, who wrote one of my favorite novels, Jitterbug Perfume.

During Q&A I mustered my fan-girl courage and asked: What do you do when you have nothing to write?

And Tom said (I’m paraphrasing here):

You show up. You show up at the same time, the same place, every day. You don’t go to the coffee shop or the library, hoping the muse can find you. You sit at your desk and you write. You’ll be sitting there working whenever she deigns to join you.

This same advice holds true when you’re connecting with the deeper mysteries of life— you show up.

If you only meet Mystery in the woods for the summer solstice, then that’s her only chance to connect with you for the whole year. If you think Mystery only hangs out at four day retreats led by uber-influential teachers, then you’re missing out on the tiny offerings she leaves you daily.

Church, synagogue, and the mosque are meant to be places where we reconnect with the greater mystery, but for many of us these institutions no longer spark the magic-meter because connection is deeply personal and difficult to institutionalize. For me, it’s studying the inner-workings of the natural world and tapping into the universal symbols of the collective unconscious. When I engage at this level, I feel like I’m backstage watching the mechanics behind the show, supported by a crew and cast, buoyed by hard work, joint venture, and the laughter of the after-party.

We have so many tools for tapping into the Universe, the Divine, our God-selves. For years I had to wrangle my East-Coast-Intellectual-Snobbery as it attempted to put the kibosh on tarot and astrology, dream-weaving and journey work. But when I get truth-and-bones honest with myself, these visual tools are my best way in.

When I ignore the Mystery, I ignore my true self.
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The part of me that longs to see the fine filaments of kinship running from myself to all things, giving meaning to this crazy thing called life, needs to be nurtured. She needs her time in the spotlight, not in competition with science but in addition to science. Making time for Mystery is not only making time for me, it’s making time to make life matter.

Remember: you are hard-wired for wonder.

If you knew that a meeting with Mystery was your key to health and happiness, that you were hard-wired for wonder and needed a daily fix, how would you get it?

I’ll let you in on a little not-so-secret secret… one of my favorite ways to remember the Mystery is to explore (and re-explore!) the history and power of the witch archetype. Though I don’t actually call myself a “witch,” I find this archetype to be full of wisdom, wonder, magic, and a bit of just what I need to help me transition from the light, airy season of summer to the dark, watery depths of autumn into winter.

If you’re longing to create a space for Mystery, then it’s time to invite your inner witch out of the closet. She’s got dust bunnies in her hair and she’s desperate for a cup of tea…

And really… aren’t you ready for a taste of starlight?

If you’re ready to create your own unique kind of magic, join me for Witch Camp. (We begin October 20th!)

Big hugs—

The post You Belong to the Wild and Wondrous appeared first on Maia Toll.

This is How I Call Myself Home

I call myself to myself. I call myself home.

For me this is the starting point for any sacred act— whether it’s ritual or writing or teaching or even making a fabulous feast for my friends.

I call myself to myself. I call myself home.

I gather the fragments of consciousness I’ve strewn about as I’ve gone through my days, like the bit of me which lingers at Muir Beach, breathing in the salt air, and the self that’s worrying about a friend who recently had surgery. I call these parts back from their own contemplations to be fully in the present moment, so I can bring my full self to the work at hand.

Calling myself home is often as simple as that: I take three deep breaths to center myself or drop my energy deep, letting it anchor in the earth. But sometimes that’s not enough… sometimes I need a stronger sense of wholeness.

When I need a little extra oomph, either because I’m feeling quite out of sorts or because I’m doing something which needs my utmost attention, I perform a ceremony called Calling the Quarters. This ritual is old as dirt and you can find variations of it in a plethora of traditions.

There’s something in the cadence of the syllables— calling the quarters— that has deep resonance for me. Maybe it’s because quarters is not simply the 4 pie pieces of a circle, it’s also a place to dwell and be (as in “living quarters”).

When I'm calling the quarters, what I'm really doing is finding myself in space and time, I'm calling myself home.
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Calling is an important bit here as well. Calling uses your voice, activates your throat, engaging it as a golden cord stretching from head to heart, uniting thought and feeling. (Yes, you can call the quarters in your mind, but it doesn’t have the same resonance, the same power, as using your voice).

For me Calling the Quarters is a vastly private ceremony. It’s about my connection with time and space and self. It’s about me remaking my spirit and re-finding my wholeness.

It’s also not difficult and, as a recovering perfectionist, I can promise you won’t mess it up if you want to give it a try.

Here’s how I do it:

I walk a circle (clockwise) and at each of the cardinal directions I pause. In my heart and mind, I connect to the land I live on, to the element associated with each direction (scroll down to see those!) and also to the parts of myself which metaphorically live in each direction (again scroll down, I’ve got you covered!).

The directional associations are:

But it goes deeper than that because our bodies are composed of the elements: earth is your body, air your breath, water your blood, and fire your spirit. So as you turn to the East, first connect with the land to the East of you. Is there a mountain there? A creek? Think about where you are geographically. You can also use this as an opportunity to call to any parts of yourself which you “left” to the East like if you’re mom’s nursing home is to the east and part of your attention is there instead of in the present moment.

Next connect with the element of East, with Air. Air is also breath, it’s your voice. Do you feel free to speak your mind? Is some part of you stifled? Call your true voice home.

Continue around the circle in this way, gathering your spirit, piece by piece, while at the same time you ground yourself in the geography of where you are.

Calling the Quarters helps you get your whole self present so you can deeply connect to the world around you, ground and root in, and create safe and sacred space.

This is my way of setting my world to right.

This is the way I call myself to myself.

This is the way I call myself home.

Wanna know more about this? Join Witch Camp (we do a whole thing on calling the quarters)!

Hugs—

The post This is How I Call Myself Home appeared first on Maia Toll.

Tattoos, the Cosmic Cha-Cha, and Why You Need a Rite of Passage

Her hands were delicate and her fingertips ink-stained.

Over the course of weeks (months?) we looked at images: That line weight is too heavy, she’d say or I love this! But it’s way too detailed: it will look like a blob by the time you’re fifty.

I got my first tattoo when I finished my Master’s degree. After three universities and enough course credits for a PhD, actually finishing— degree in hand— felt like befriending a personal dragon or summiting an inner-mountain. This was no small moment and I wanted to mark the occasion.

Many people (especially my parents) thought it odd that I would literally and permanently mark my body. But that was exactly what I wanted— a permanent reminder of who I had become. I was not the same woman who had begun degree-hopping six years before and I was craving a way of expressing my inward change in an outward way.

And permanent? Absolutely.

Because, let’s face it, we often take two steps forward and one step back, treating our personal growth like a cosmic cha-cha.

This time I wanted to own it. I wanted it to be inescapable: I wanted it etched on my skin.

This was the first in a series of tattoos, each marking an important shift in my psyche. The next tattoo came after what I call my “Jesus Year,” when I went through a personal death and rebirth. The weeks before my marriage brought me again to the tattoo parlor. And recently I got a small tattoo on my forearm. The shifts within me were so new and raw and fresh that I spent the first week tucking my arm under blankets and shirt sleeves, savoring the secret marking (I’m truly not sure Andrew has noticed it yet!).

Ancient cultures knew the importance of marking inner-milestones, they knew that internal changes needed outward celebration. After an initiation into a new way of being, you went through a rite of passage: a ritual that allowed you to see and be your new self within your community. Perhaps your name was changed or a piercing added to your body, maybe you were tattooed with woad or given a cloak of feathers to wear to ceremonies.

We have precious few rites of passage anymore and the ones that we do have have become so rote as to be practically meaningless for most people. The exception (hallelujah!) is the wedding ceremony; there we still see the kind of creativity that replenishes meaning and brings life to dusty words.

While I can count our culture’s rites of passage on one hand, as individuals we have initiatory experiences often… at least we do if we are on a path of personal empowerment.

These shifts in the psyche can be subtle things, often inexplicable in language. How do you describe a dream which alters your life’s work or a frisson of clarity which comes as you walk alone in the woods?

Initiations are funny and don’t always come when or how you expect. You can spend five years going on “life changing” retreats only to have everything shift as a deer leaps in front of your car and scampers off into the undergrowth.

The thing about these cosmic lightening bolts? If we don’t pull them from the hazy spaces of our minds into the material world, we lose the texture and tone. We may slip slowly back to the past version of ourselves as the moment of shift sinks into subconsciousness.

And that’s where a rite of passage comes in. If you’ve had an initiatory experience (i.e. you were initiated into a new way of being or thinking), how could you create a personal rite of passage for yourself to acknowledge your shift? What symbols in the outer-world mirror your experience in your inner-world?

What if our lack of confidence in our own skills and wisdom comes from a lack of these rites of passage?

What if all it takes to become the person we most want to be is to acknowledge our inner-landscape and it’s subtle shifts? To celebrate our new way of being so we can truly step into it?

I walked into the tattoo parlor last week and marked my skin as a reminder to witness, everyday, who I am becoming. How will you make your spirit seen so that, over and over again, you can celebrate yourself and your growth?

Big hugs—

The post Tattoos, the Cosmic Cha-Cha, and Why You Need a Rite of Passage appeared first on Maia Toll.

What’s a Rite of Passage and Why You Really Need One

Her hands were delicate and her fingertips ink-stained.

Over the course of weeks (months?) we looked at images: That line weight is too heavy, she’d say or I love this! But it’s way too detailed: it will look like a blob by the time you’re fifty.

I got my first tattoo when I finished my Master’s degree. After three universities and enough course credits for a PhD, actually finishing— degree in hand— felt like befriending a personal dragon or summiting an inner-mountain. This was no small moment and I wanted to mark the occasion.

Many people (especially my parents) thought it odd that I would literally and permanently mark my body. But that was exactly what I wanted— a permanent reminder of who I had become. I was not the same woman who had begun degree-hopping six years before and I was craving a way of expressing my inward change in an outward way.

And permanent? Absolutely.

Because, let’s face it, we often take two steps forward and one step back, treating our personal growth like a cosmic cha-cha.

This time I wanted to own it. I wanted it to be inescapable: I wanted it etched on my skin.

This was the first in a series of tattoos, each marking an important shift in my psyche. The next tattoo came after what I call my “Jesus Year,” when I went through a personal death and rebirth. The weeks before my marriage brought me again to the tattoo parlor. And recently I got a small tattoo on my forearm. The shifts within me were so new and raw and fresh that I spent the first week tucking my arm under blankets and shirt sleeves, savoring the secret marking (I’m truly not sure Andrew has noticed it yet!).

Ancient cultures knew the importance of marking inner-milestones, they knew that internal changes needed outward celebration. After an initiation into a new way of being, you went through a rite of passage: a ritual that allowed you to see and be your new self within your community. Perhaps your name was changed or a piercing added to your body, maybe you were tattooed with woad or given a cloak of feathers to wear to ceremonies.

We have precious few rites of passage anymore and the ones that we do have have become so rote as to be practically meaningless for most people. The exception (hallelujah!) is the wedding ceremony; there we still see the kind of creativity that replenishes meaning and brings life to dusty words.

While I can count our culture’s rites of passage on one hand, as individuals we have initiatory experiences often… at least we do if we are on a path of personal empowerment.

These shifts in the psyche can be subtle things, often inexplicable in language. How do you describe a dream which alters your life’s work or a frisson of clarity which comes as you walk alone in the woods?

Initiations are funny and don’t always come when or how you expect. You can spend five years going on “life changing” retreats only to have everything shift as a deer leaps in front of your car and scampers off into the undergrowth.

The thing about these cosmic lightening bolts? If we don’t pull them from the hazy spaces of our minds into the material world, we lose the texture and tone. We may slip slowly back to the past version of ourselves as the moment of shift sinks into subconsciousness.

And that’s where a rite of passage comes in. If you’ve had an initiatory experience (i.e. you were initiated into a new way of being or thinking), how could you create a personal rite of passage for yourself to acknowledge your shift? What symbols in the outer-world mirror your experience in your inner-world?

What if our lack of confidence in our own skills and wisdom comes from a lack of these rites of passage?

What if all it takes to become the person we most want to be is to acknowledge our inner-landscape and it’s subtle shifts? To celebrate our new way of being so we can truly step into it?

I walked into the tattoo parlor last week and marked my skin as a reminder to witness, everyday, who I am becoming. How will you make your spirit seen so that, over and over again, you can celebrate yourself and your growth?

Big hugs—

The post What’s a Rite of Passage and Why You Really Need One appeared first on Maia Toll.