Maia Toll's Blog, page 5
September 13, 2018
An Anthem for Empaths: How to Control Empathy
It is not my job to absorb the energies of the world.
Say it out loud, even if you don’t believe it:
It is not my job to absorb the energies of the world.
Why is this so very important?
Because when you are taking on other people’s grief and loneliness, when you are pulling in other people’s pain, you are attracting and attached to those feelings.
And you pulling those feelings toward you neither serves you nor anyone else.
Burn it off.
Sage it off.
Declare self-sovereignty:
your aura, your skin
will not be breached!
Otherwise you are swaying in the wind, pulled by the highs and lows of every creature on this planet.
Yesterday I was rereading a journal from a dozen years back. The nightmares were weekly: bombs on buses, burning airplanes, screaming as the earth cracked.
I was a radio station tuned to the disasters of the world.
By tuning into my personal psychic channel of Disaster Radio, I was pretty much indulging, on an energetic level, in the 24-hour news cycle of tragedy… which I would rarely choose to do through other media (although I have to admit I’m a sucker for hurricanes and blizzards; I will watch the admittedly ridiculous reporting on those for hours).
To top it off, I was more than a little bit proud of my ability to tune in and read the vibes, to wake up and have the bus bombing confirmed by the newspaper or t.v.
Sound familiar?
Us empaths secretly, or not-so-secretly, revel in being empaths.
And the way that we can prove to ourselves and those around us that we are empathic is to continually have these experiences…
… but then we have headaches, and nightmares, we are sad inexplicably and worried almost constantly.
How to control empathy?
It begins with the simple decision to declare self-sovereignty.
It begins with saying in our heads and our hearts:
It is not my job to absorb the energies of the world.
When we declare self-sovereignty we don't cut off our psychic antenna, we simply begin to choose when to power it up.
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We stop identifying ourselves as being at one with everybody else’s emotions.
It is a HUGE thing and not the work of one evening.
Start with this:
I declare self-sovereignty! It is not my job to absorb the energies of the world.
The archetype of “witch” has a lot to teach about self-sovereignty. Ready to get your witch on? Click here to get more information on a special 23 day immersion of the history, power and practice of “witch.”
Hugs—
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August 24, 2018
Talking to Stones and Healing Ancestral Wounds
My thoughts have begun to drift toward my autumn rituals, the luscious time of harvest and, ultimately, rest. Inevitably autumn thoughts are Ireland thoughts since that is when I began my studies there…..
We parked in a rut on the side of the road and hiked up a barely-seen track and then across a stile before clambering up a fence line edged with Hawthorn and Elderberry.
This route had become familiar, ‘though I doubt I could find it now, fifteen years later.
The stone circle at the hill’s top was off most maps and worn down like ancient teeth. Walk clockwise to build energy; the stones like that my teacher murmured.
So I set off in a sun-wise direction, moving slowly, trailing fingers over moss and bird droppings to feel the ancient rock beneath. Once, twice… the walking became a meditation. I stopped seeing my teacher, the sun, the gnarled roots beneath my feet.
For just a few moments I knew the vibrant stillness of stone.
When I finally sat, snugged against rock, messages came. Stories about time and its passing from a perspective so different from human, so much more ancient than tree.
It’s hard to speak of these mysteries in a way that doesn’t create distance and disbelief. So let’s simply say I’d walked myself into a trance state, a place in which the world is more vocal and alive than the place we inhabit daily.
It’s this place which called to me this morning as I contemplated the season’s new-found chill.
I love this time of year: the curling into your core, shaking out sweaters, and rescuing nutmeg from the back of the spice cabinet. I relish the fading light and even the ghosts, the hungry parts of myself and my ancestry, which have not yet found rest.
Healing ancestral wounds is part of our work toward wholeness.
It’s easy to give in to maudlin or angry or even self-righteous as these ghosts rise from their shallow graves.
Instead I sort them gently:
You are new, I say, grown from regret of things not done this year past. And you? (Why this year? I wonder.) You are my younger self’s heartbreak over a lost love. And then there’s you, who aches from the misunderstanding of your fragile psyche, who moans as electricity arcs through your brain (“Hello, Grandmother,” I murmur). But you, my friend, you are ancient dust and bone… You’re tangled in my DNA, in pogroms, and genocides, and the feeling of homelessness.
Each year I watch them gather round me. Each year I whisper what do you need?
The answer is always the same: love, honor, respect, to simply be seen, a wake, a funeral, a moment of mourning or week of shiva.
It’s tempting sometimes to give myself over to the ancestral grief locked in my blood. To become ancient rage and hatred, to succumb to nostalgia and regret.
But raging against the grandchildren of Nazis, the great-great-grandchildren of Russian Tzars, or the ten-times great-grandchildren of Spanish Inquisitors won’t heal these wounds.
We are called to honor the past, not to recreate its resonance in the present.
So I gently disentangle the threads, me from not-me. I honor the ghosts but don’t let them inhabit my body or become my being.
On the nights when they’re near I make an offering of tears or whiskey (a remnant of my time studying in Ireland) or squares of chocolate. It’s my way of saying I see you, you are not forgotten. Like laying flowers on a grave.
How do we repair damage in a pre-generational past? How do we weave the threads of ancestry which have been cut or torn? I think of the matrix, the soil, in which our ancestral roots grow. Comfrey which strengthens bones also amends soil. I tuck a bit in my Medicine pouch.
I sat this morning with the stones I keep close (two crystals, one odder looking than the next). I think about time and the quantum loops of past and future. And I think of those ancient standing stones which I still feel supporting me more than a dozen years later.
Perhaps it’s as simple as this: when we lean into the stones and the trees, we remember we’re part of a greater whole which has a different timeline than humanity’s. In the broad sweep of history, we are all ghosts…
... So we stay in the present, in the now, because this is the place where healing is possible.
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What ghosts will you lay to rest this season?
This is autumn’s work, this year and every year. This is the work we do together each year in Witch Camp. If you want to join me at Witch Camp to do the work of honoring and releasing, click below (it’s beautiful work made more beautiful by community).
Hugs—
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August 16, 2018
The Lost Language: an Unpublished Excerpt from The Illustrated Herbiary!
Native tales hold power and need to be shared in a specific way. Since this story is not mine to tell, I’ll paraphrase it for you and maybe, if you’re lucky, someday a person of Cherokee decent will tell you the tale whole, the way it’s meant to be shared. The short version is this:
A long time ago, on the land right under your feet, people understood more than we understand today. They translated the murmurings of the four-leggeds and the calls of the winged ones. The buzz of a bee had meaning, as did the glub, glub of the salmon swimming upstream to spawn.
Most important for us here and now, those long-ago people understood the whispers of the green world. The gentle twisting of flowers toward the sun had meaning as did the way the wind whistled through the slow-growth forests hugging steep mountainsides.
For reasons only the Cherokee can share, we lost our ability to communicate . . .
. . . And we have searched for this lost language ever since.
Understanding the languages of nature is a universal human obsession.
The ancient Greeks developed the Doctrine of Signatures, a complex code designed to reveal a plant’s medicine through observation. Everything from the color of a flower, to a plant’s growth habit, to its favorite location and soil type, was used as a method for deciphering its gifts to humanity. So a plant which could survive in the desert, for instance, was seen to have the Medicine of moisture.
The Victorians crafted a language of flowers assigning each bud a meaning — blue violets for faithfulness and vervain for enchantment. Each posey that was gifted contained a secret message encoded in its petals.
I wrote The Illustrated Herbiary as a codex which gives you a window into the unique gifts of the flowers and trees, a key to understanding their whisperings… though there is a very simple beginning to this relationship between human and plants:
Plants do something that neither animals nor minerals (nor fairies or unicorns, for that matter!) can do– they enable our breath. Plants exhale oxygen, which we inhale; we exhale carbon dioxide, which they inhale.
Their exhale, our inhale. Our exhale, their inhale.
An invisible dance, a necessary exchange.
The first thing we do upon arriving in this world is inhale and through that in-breath we come into our first contact with the plants and the green world.
Another word for inhalation is inspiration.
Ultimately that’s the magic of plant medicine: it inspires you to look at your life through a different lens, so you can tap into the collective unconscious as well as your own intuition and self-knowing.
What was your first conscious experience of the green world? Share with us over on Facebook.
Hugs—
The post The Lost Language: an Unpublished Excerpt from The Illustrated Herbiary! appeared first on Maia Toll.
August 10, 2018
Life Changing Books According to YOU!
I’ve wanted to be an author since I was a kid, not because I loved to write but because I loved to read.
Last year I shared a few of my favorites with you.
This year, I asked to hear YOUR life-changing books and favorite authors…
… And I was not disappointed!
Without further ado…
Collective & Perenial loves:
✦ The Alchemist, Paulo Coelho (This was by far the most popular vote!)
✦ The Harry Potter Series, J.K. Rowling
✦ The Lord of the Rings Series and The Hobbit, J.R.R. Tolkien
✦ The Tao of Pooh, Benjamin Hoff
✦ Big Magic and Eat, Pray, Love, Elizabeth Gilbert
✦ Prodigal Summer, Barbara Kingsolver
✦ Braiding Sweetgrass, Robin Wall-Kimmerer
✦ Herbal Rituals, Rosemary Gladstar (from our herb lovers out there)
Witchy faves:
✦ The Highland Witch, Susan Fletcher
✦ Witches Series, Terry Pratchett
✦ Alice Hoffman books
The individual choice awards:
✦ The Untethered Soul, Michael Singer
✦ Change Your Thoughts, Change Your Life, Dr. Wayne Dyer
✦ Man’s Search for Meaning, Viktor Frankl
✦ Women Who Run with Wolves, Clarissa Pinkola Estés
✦ The Mists of Avalon, Marion Zimmer Bradley
✦ The Hidden Life of Trees, Peter Wohlleben
✦ The Color Purple, Alice Walker
✦ Cassandra Clare’s books
✦ Daughters of Copper Woman, Ann Cameron
✦ Sisters of the Earth, Lorraine Anderson
✦ Operating Instructions, Anne Lamott
You said: “It was an amazing chronicle of a crazy but miracle-filled year and reminded me that the small things all around us can increase in their value as we find ourselves in need.”
✦ American Eden, Victoria Johnson
You said: “I just finished reading AMERICAN EDEN by Victoria Johnson and I’ve felt compelled to tell every reader I talk to about the book since I attended a book talk and signing by the author two weeks ago at The North Carolina Arboretum in Asheville. The book is a biography of Dr. David Hosack who lived 1769-1835. He was a noted American physician, botanist, and educator who is best remembered for saving Alexander Hamilton’s teenage son’s life and tending to Alexander Hamilton after his fatal dual with Aaron Burr. He spent the majority of his adult life establishing the first Botanical garden in the United States located in Manhattan where Rockefeller Center is now. His greatest passion was collecting and growing plants for medicinal remedies at a time when the standard medical practice was bloodletting. The book is filled with stories about the early days of New York and many of America’s founding fathers. The author makes history come alive in the context of one extraordinary man’s struggles and triumphs during his lifetime. The subtitle to the book is Botany and Medicine in the Garden of the Early Republic. It is a very well written and satisfying non fiction book of 337 pages with more than 100 additional pages of notes, sources, credits and index. I will read the book again because Dr. Hosack was such an interesting man who had an incredible passion for plants and their relationships with people.”
And hopefully, added to this list will be The Illustrated Herbiary.
It’s certainly changed my life, and I hope it brings magic, peace, and inspiration to yours!
Thanks for joining me on this crazy and amazing journey.
Hugs—
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August 2, 2018
You Belong to a World More Magical than You Realize
I asked myself this question over and over again during my studies in Ireland.
‘Cause, truthfully? Despite being drenched in Irish myth and mystery, I didn’t believe in magic at first. So my daily what ifs became an exercise in the willing suspension of disbelief which over the course of many months (maybe even years!) shifted my locus of knowing from my head to my heart.
So I’d asked myself What if the world is synchronous and serendipitous? What if the land is sentient and the stones have stories to tell?
I grew up in the world of the head and for a long time confused feelings with thoughts. But contrary to popular belief, the head is not an organ of feeling; it’s an organ of thinking. The brain is uniquely designed to store and sort information, to reason and rationalize. It needs feeling like a snake needs sneakers.
But I (and probably you!) need feeling. I long for the scent of jasmine blooming at dusk and the feel of linen against my skin (I know silk sheets are supposed to be the ultimate luxury but I’ll take linen’s slight nub, the washed feel of warp and weft, any night of the week). My tongue wants salt and spice and the sweet bite of chocolate, and my eyes want the soft spaces where sea merges with sky.
When I engage my senses, my heart lightens— it fills my throat, my eyes tear up, my stomach tickles a bit.
I can guarantee you I have never had this feeling crouched over an encyclopedia in some fluorescent lit library.
These thoughts were tumbling around my brain as I scribbled out the proposal for The Illustrated Herbiary three years ago.
Most herbals feed your brain a full course meal of folk uses and scientific studies, but that onslaught of facts has never healed my heart or uplifted my spirit. It’s never made me feel like I’m meeting an old friend, connecting and belonging to a world so much greater than me.
How could I serve up botanicals so they felt like a feast prepared by a James Beard awarded chef and then laid out on a long, white-washed pine table lit by fairy lights and lanterns? How could I spark your imagination and inspire your intuition?
Turns out, I wasn’t the first person to ponder this. I came across this description, written in 1542 of a Bestiary:
A bestiary is a collection of short descriptions about all sorts of animals, real and imaginary, birds and even rocks, accompanied by a moralizing explanation. Although it deals with the natural world it was never meant to be a scientific text and should not be read as such. Some observations may be quite accurate but they are given the same weight as totally fabulous accounts… A great deal of its charm comes from the humour and imagination of the illustrations, painted partly for pleasure but justified as a didactic tool “to improve the minds of ordinary people, in such a way that the soul will at least perceive physically things which it has difficulty grasping mentally: that what they have difficulty comprehending with their ears, they will perceive with their eyes.” The Aberdeen Bestiary, Folio 25v circa 1542
I loved this idea of allowing people to perceive with their eyes and spend an inordinate amount of time contemplating the difference between the eyes and the ears as organs of perception.
There’s something about seeing— not seeing words or text, but seeing an object or illustration— which cuts out the cognitive and creates a direct channel to the felt sense of the heart.
Enter The Illustrated Herbiary:
An Herbiary is a collection of short writings about botanicals: medicinal, decorative, and whimsical. Although it alludes to healing properties, it was never meant to be prescriptive. Many observations are quite accurate, but should not be seen as superior to creative or fanciful descriptions and symbolic flights of fancy. A great deal of its charm comes from the depth and creativity of its illustrations, allowing us to see what otherwise would remain hidden. (from The Illustrated Herbiary)
What if you could learn the plants by feel? What if it could be a casual and fun and quirky relationship? What if you led with your heart and waited to see if your head wanted to follow suit (I’m all for enjoying the pictures, the rituals, and reflection and never diving in to the medicinal aspects of herbalism if that’s what feels good to you!)
I don’t care if you can’t keep a blueberry bush alive and kill every spider plant you’ve ever met.
Ultimately, the book is about the joy of belonging to a world that’s bigger and more eccentric than you might have thought; it’s about remembering how to feel so you can remember the taste of happiness. It’s about meeting a few non-human friends so you can realize that you’re never really alone. That’s what we’re all looking for right? Joy, community, happiness, and a sense of belonging to something greater than ourselves.
It’s (finally!) here! This week The Illustrated Herbiary is being born into the world.
And you can help midwife this book-baby:
Buy the book, give it as gifts, tell your friends to give it a read!
Review it on Amazon… this is actually another one of those things that’s more important than I knew!
And the world? It is magical…. But you have to let the magic in. You have to suspend your disbelief so you can open your heart and feel the joy.
Hugs—
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July 18, 2018
Hard Decisions, Dancing with Change, and Finding What’s Right For You
I used to joke that I was Change’s Whore, always ready to prostrate myself to potential.
Still, even with my propensity for riding whirlwinds, change is bittersweet. Especially when it’s unexpected.
Bend of Ivy Lodge, where I’ll be holding my November gathering this year, just contacted me to book my fifth year of hosting the Deep Magic Retreat. But instead of eagerly signing the contract, something in me whispered pause…
So I took a deep breath and felt into the moment. Since I can get brain-centric (trying to wring decisions from my sometimes indecisive mind), feeling into things is my personal life-hack for connecting with my inner-wisdom. This helps me make decisions aligned with not just my brain but my whole being.
So what the heck does it look like to “feel into” something?
Begin by noticing how you usually make decisions:
Are you a head first decision maker, using your brain to come to the “best” choice?
Or do you intuitively leap, following an impulse?
Perhaps you do a gut check, seeing how a choice lands in your belly?
Our best decisions are made when we find a balance between these three ways of making choices.
Since I know that I tend to let my brain be a bit of a bully, I pause and feel into my choices, allowing my physical being to be part of the process. Does this choice make my body feel light or heavy? Is my stomach clenching? Are my shoulders relaxed or could they double as earrings?
So what did I do? I put the retreat center contract aside, trying not to actively think about it too much. The next day I repeated the process of feeling into my physical self, feeling into my body, checking in with my core and noticing where I was stiff or tight… and quickly came to the conclusion that something still wasn’t sitting quite right.
Reading a situation, getting a sense of it, allows me to then go back and reconnect intellectually but from a different angle. Instead of thinking “should I or shouldn’t I” or “what are the financial effects of this decision?” I ask: why are my shoulders tight? What is making me feel like crying?
As I asked myself these questions, I looked at the events coming down the pike for 2019 (including leading a retreat in Ireland and the release of my second book) and it became clear that my body knew I was creating a bottleneck; I felt it. For a myriad of reasons, the November 2019 retreat wasn’t going to work.
And then came sadness… resistance… love, Love, LOVE of this retreat. My brain didn’t want to get on board, but my body was already feeling relief knowing I wasn’t going to sign that contract.
This dance between the body and mind, the emotions and energies, is what allows us to make solid decisions. It’s what keeps us in balance. But you have to dance.
You have to fully engage your whole being in your decision making.
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You must step into the paradoxes you might feel as the various parts of you come into alignment and wholeness:
The love balancing the sense of loss. The sadness balancing the new energy rising as future possibilities begin to bubble….
But I’m not gonna tell you about those yet. They’re still wee seeds, dreaming themselves into being.
What can I tell you? This year’s Deep Magic Retreat will be unforgettable… and there are still 2 spots available. If one of them is yours, click here!
I can also tell you that it’s an incredibly special time at Herbiary and MaiaToll.com with my first book coming out. I’m getting a little press and podcast action you might wanna check out:
A mention in Forbes, a review in Publisher’s Weekly, and interviews at Motherhouse of the Goddess and Dream Freedom Beauty!
And if you’re in the Asheville area, we have some very special book launch events:
August 9 – Talk and Book Signing at Malaprop’s Bookstore
August 12 – Book Signing at Herbiary in Asheville
August 12 – A very special Ticketed Dinner and Reading at Sovereign Remedies (if you haven’t experienced Chef Graham’s food, it’s divine!). Seats are very limited, so reserve early!
Thank you so much for being a part of our tribe.
Big love—
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July 12, 2018
Plant Magic, Divination, and A Special Message Just For You!
It all started with a blog post that looked a lot like this one!
As a writer and creatrix, I’m also noodling ways to help you engage with your inner-wisdom, your intuition, and your deep rooted connection to the collective unconscious. As a plant person and herbalist, I’m also searching for inspiring ways to connect you to the green world around you and to introduce you to the plants in easy and personal ways.
Could the plants be used as an oracle system? Would it be accurate? Would it be lush, and yummy, and make your soul sing? I decided to find out!
The results were spot on and we all had a lot of fun discussing their accuracy on social media, so I thought today we’d celebrate the origins of The Illustrated Herbiary— the Flower Power Oracle!
Instructions
Hold this question in your heart as you check out the images of the flowers below:
What Medicine* do I need in my life right now?
*Medicine in the oldest sense of the word is anything that heals you, mind, body, or spirit.
Repeat this question to yourself 3 times as you imagine pulling the question from your head and down into your heart.
When you’re ready, look at all the pictures below. After perusing all of them, come back to the one to which you are most drawn. Don’t over-think this!
When you have chosen your flower, scroll further down for your message.
Remember, you can work with all these flowers (and many more!) without ingesting them! Pin a photo of the plant over your desk, put a sprig under your pillow, or meditate on the plant either by picturing it in your mind or holding a bit, dried or fresh, in your left (your receiving) hand.
For more information on The Illustrated Herbiary, head HERE! If you pre-order your copy before August 7th, you get my FREE mini-course, Secrets of The Illustrated Herbiary.
Hugs 
Yarrow’s gift is boundaries and bravery. In Celtic cultures, Yarrow was a warrior’s plant. Not only does she help heal the wounds of war, both physically and psychologically, but she’s a protector. Yarrow transcends the physical realm, helping you unite the will of your soul and spirit with your body and mind. Call on Yarrow when you need to strengthen your boundaries or your resolve!
Rose’s gift is an open heart. She calls forth caring with her scent and her beauty. But Rose does not do mushy love! Rose is upright and structured; she holds space for your heart to be open, not for it to be trampled upon! Rose lets you become a vessel for love, to experience its allure both platonically and romantically, while offering the protection of her thorns. Rose reminds you that love does not mean co-dependency, that love is best when, as the poet Rilke said, you can see the distance between you and your beloved so you can “see each other whole against the sky.”
Lady’s Mantle offers motherly protection. She drapes a cloak of caring around your shoulders and whispers that you can make it through this lifetime, that your soul is whole, that no matter what the physical world has thrown at you, no matter what pains or abuse, you have integrity of spirit. She is particularly wise when there has been trauma. Lady’s Mantle doesn’t demand, she waits for you to find the bravery and fortitude within. She knows it is there, and with her help, you will too.
Selfheal is a wee thing! She is the first ripple that allows healing to begin. She reminds you that one small change ripples outward, creating concentric circles of shift. Selfheal knows how to find that center. Ripple out from here, she whispers. Healing begins here. She is a support to those who are ill, to those who work with illness, and to those who have come into this life with physical challenges. She helps you to know your true self, and therefore, your true healing.
Dandelion is bold and bright and sunny. She pushes through cracks in cement and worms her way through a stone wall’s mortar. Cheerfully. Dandelion’s Medicine is perseverance. But not the perseverance of a martyr. Dandelion is the eternal optimist: like the Fool in the Tarot deck, she is always happy to set off on a new journey, in the hopes of learning more and digging deeper. She is not the airy optimist with no grounding in reality–her roots run deep–and she is the shaman and the buddha, knowing that happiness is an inner landscape and has little to do with where you are planted.
Don’t forget to pre-order your copy of The Illustrated Herbiary HERE before August 7th to get my FREE mini-course, Secrets of The Illustrated Herbiary.
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July 5, 2018
When the World’s a Hot Mess and You’re Fraying at the Seams
My mind was bouncing all over the place, from news article to news article, trying to get a handle on what the hell is going on in our world. Have the forces of evil finally prevailed? Have our better angels been deposed or deported?
It all felt so vast, so cosmic, and so very beyond the scope of little ‘ole me.
Which was when I realized: it is vast and cosmic. Nations aren’t built on a human time frame. Our individual life spans happen in dog years compared to the life of nations (okay, some nations. There are parts of the globe where the names change so constantly I can’t keep track.).
The nation I live in was built on an idea. Sure there’s the daily doings which keep things humming along, but ultimately, being a part of this nation is about buying into a concept and continuing to work toward it, cutting a trail not just for yourself but for everyone who comes after.
When I take an eagle’s eye view, I see a tangle of complex problems and personalities. The time spans which might offer solutions are well beyond those I’ll be here to witness. Looking at this big picture, I feel pretty helpless to do anything except make another cup of tea and lose myself in a fantasy novel.
I’ve been doing this a lot: looking at the BIGGEST possible picture and feeling small.
So today I did something I haven’t done since high school: I reread the Declaration of Independence. I needed to know if I still bought in. I’d lost track of the idea of this country while trying to extinguish each flash fire of ugliness that came across my screen.
First discovery: this nation's forefathers were pretty boss.
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Technically they’re not my forefathers. My forefathers were living in a shtetl in Russia when the Declaration was crafted. But the writers of the Declaration of Independence are my intellectual forefathers, the forefathers of the country who’s founding idea I realized I still buy into.
Yes, they were all men; yes, they were all white; yes, some of them owned slaves…. And yet they were the radicals— the revolutionaries— of their time. They were the ones willing to stand up and say enough.
Now our radicals are not just white men but women and people of many colors; they’re queers and witches and a million other monikers which simply meant “no one” back when the Declaration of Independence was written. All of these people are now seen as people. They can vote and march on Washington and decide what to eat for dinner.
Which means this country has evolved and changed. It means the suffragettes and civil rights activists made a difference, even if during their lifetimes maybe it felt like nothing was happening. Even if they sometimes felt helpless in the face of history.
I heard a smart guy named Drew Jones speak at Creative Mornings. He talked about how it’s hard for us to be motivated when the outcome of our actions is distant in time or space. We become unsure if our cause has any effect.
And yet when I look at the long game, I realize our better angels are still fighting, still carving a path out of the wilderness. I realize I’ve gotta be in this so when someone looks back 200 years from now, they can see what I see today: that over the span of decades and centuries (the time span of nations), this democratic experiment is working.
My partner’s a bit of a politico. When I was overwhelmed by the chaos of it all, I asked him “what can we do besides vote?” And he said “it’s like cleaning the kitchen after you’ve cooked a five course meal. Just chose a place and get started.”
If you’ve ever come to my house for dinner, you know that while I love to cook, the aftermath can be overwhelming. When I look at the pile of pots and pans, the dishes to be washed, and the counters in chaos, my mind starts to fray and exhaustion sets in. So I start small— put the napkins (cloth) in the laundry room. Wipe the crumbs off the table… I know how to load the dishwasher and clean the goo out from around the burners.
Slowly the chaos becomes order.
One small step at a time.
Hugs—
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June 27, 2018
How to Ignite Your Creative Spark and Birth A Book, or Blog, or Banjo Sonata
Let me start at the creative beginning…
Okay, not quite the beginning – which was a story about a unicorn in a bottle who washed up on the Jersey shore. After that were short stories sneered at by Mr. Leshan, the faculty advisor for the high school lit mag (I’m sure he didn’t think he was sneering but it sure looked like a sneer to me), and then countless hours, my back snugged-up to a tree on the University of Michigan Quad, with tears running down my face as I blathered through formless, emotive poetry.
On second thought…
… let’s start nowhere near the beginning.
Let’s start in the middle. Let’s start the day my Dad took me out for stone-fired pizza, back in the days I could eat whatever I wanted, and asked me why I wasn’t writing. I told him lots of things, some true and some true only through the filter of a twenty-two year old. But this one is obviously false:
I told him I had nothing to write.
You see, I’d read over and over again that authors had stories burning in their souls, characters who demanded to be let out. And I had nothing.
So for years I waited, hoping someday I’d have something to say.
I went to writing workshops and heard the spiel on discipline, on putting your butt in the chair and writing. My translation: once you had something to say, show up to do the work of birthing your idea into the world.
But I was missing the point.
I thought ass-in-chair was about discipline. I thought I was being told I needed structure. I needed to come to my desk at the same time each day to let the Muses know I was diligently banging out this idea they had graciously granted me. And honestly? The thought of all that discipline made my spirit screech and my soul wanna barf.
Maybe, I thought, if I actually had a story to write, I’d feel differently.
And so for years I waited for the moment of conception, when a story would be born deep in the recesses of my mind.
And then for years more (when it became increasingly obvious there was no way in hell I was gonna be a savant or prodigy) I gave up the dream of being a writer completely.
Then this weird thing happened: my business coach told me I should be sending a weekly newsletter. She told me to keep it brief: a tip-of-the-week type of thing.
But I couldn’t keep it brief. Something in my soul wanted to write.
Thus this blog was born.
Every week I put ass-in-chair. Sometimes there’s an idea that’s been dogging me through the week, but oftentimes there’s nothing. Nothing at all.
I open a blank page on the blog, chew my inner-cheek, and wonder what the heck’s gonna happen next… and what I’ll do if nothing happens.
And here’s what I’ve come to know:
There’s something magical which can only happen when you sit down at the keyboard or pick up a pen or a paintbrush or a guitar pick: you realize you do have words or music or art waiting to pour out of some little-known corner of your psyche.
It was the same way with herbal medicine: until I sat with a client in front of me, I had no clue how the synergy of their need and my knowledge would mesh.
Sometimes you just have to jump in.
It's like making fire: you can wait for a lightening strike or pull out two sticks and do the work of creation.
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Just as with everything worthwhile, you need to act. Action ignites a spark in the universe which thought simply doesn’t.
This isn’t to say every creative act is worth sharing with the world. We practice creation, just like any other skill. Sometimes what we create is a masterpiece and sometimes it’s shlock. But we show up so we can practice, work the muscle, develop the skill.
If you see the creative process as a fire cycle— flames burning what’s no longer needed to ash— it is glorious all the way through.
Failures are compost that nourish the next creation.
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As the printer’s proof for my very first book finally arrives, I have to admit I’m a bit in love with the entirety of the fiery, creative cycle. And although it’s gotten so even failure feeds my soul, it’s pretty amazing to hold creation in my hands— my creation!— knowing that this book will be a candle to light other people’s way.
Sharing fire is a beautiful thing.
If you want your very own piece of the flame, grab it HERE!
And if you’re sitting at your creative altar drawing a complete blank, try burning a little mugwort to open you up to your own subconscious. Then act: write or paint or pick a few chords. Allow stream-of-consciousness to open the channels and create new grooves in your psyche. Allow yourself to practice.
Big Creative Hugs—
The post How to Ignite Your Creative Spark and Birth A Book, or Blog, or Banjo Sonata appeared first on Maia Toll.
June 14, 2018
Wishes Rarely Come True Unless You Get Intentional About It
Wishes aren’t the same as intentions. Think about it: can you even remember half the wishes you made as you blew out the candles on your numerous birthday cakes? Did you think about them much after the moment of wishing?
A wish has very little energy behind it. It’s a thought on the wind, a vague hope.
But an intention? Now that’s another story. Or at least it should be.
Let’s start with the basics:
An intention is not the same thing as a wish.
If a wish is a vague hope, an intention is an expertly shot arrow.
Sure, every once in a while a complete neophyte hits the target (and a random wish might, too), but if you want to have any degree of success at this whole intending thing, you need to treat it like art… or like archery: you must hone your craft and become one hell of a marksman.
The best way to do this?
Use the power of intentions daily.
Intending should be like brushing your teeth; you do it at least twice a day, even when you don’t feel well.
‘Cause guess what?
This whole intention-setting thing is simply about living intentionally.
It’s about focus and awareness: the same skills you need to be a good driver or a good mom.
Intending is a daily practice.
Which means that you’re honing your craft on small things… which isn’t the way we normally think about intentions.
We pull out the intending mojo when we want something big and life-changing: a new love, a new home, a new job or maybe a special trip. We brush off our intending magic when we are feeling a lack: of money, of time, of compassion.
It’s kind of like only praying when someone is dying; you’re suddenly making deals with God… even though you haven’t had so much as a conversation in decades.
Living intentionally isn't about deals. It isn't about pulling it off. It's about daily focus.
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Which, on the surface, isn’t sexy. But when you dig deeper, you’ll find it’s an opportunity to bring creativity and meaning into your life.
Ready to do some really grounded, Earth-based intending?
Start by looking up!
The moon has a cycle. It begins at the New Moon (the dark of the moon) and then the moon grows slowly, night over night, until it’s Full. From there, it ebbs, shrinking down until it’s New again.
Linking to this ebb and flow creates a rich intention practice: when the moon is New, set an intention for growth. And when the moon is Full, set an intention for releasing whatever isn’t serving you.
So, for instance, this past New Moon I set an intention for the garden that I am working on. My intention is simply to step into this beautiful work and build with gentle grace. Note that I did not intend to suddenly get a new tractor.
My intentions are daily-sized!
And what I am doing by setting it is energizing and paying deep attention and reverence to my own life.
Work with simple intentions:
You can intend to go to bed earlier, eat healthier, call your kids more (or less!)… you can energize a project like painting a room or planting a garden.
Do you really want to go big?
If you use the energy of the moon, then over the course of the year there will be 13 new moons with which to align your intentions.
Most of us really don’t want 13 big life changes a year!
Which means many of your intentions will be simple. They will call energy into the dailyness of your life while at the same time working your mojo-muscle so that when you need to pull off the big stuff, you know how to do it.
Here’s the trick of it, whether you are working with the daily-sized intentions or the big life-changing mama-jamas:
✦Be super clear.
Oh, the stories I can tell about ill-conceived intentions! I tell my students to create a web (we use Spider energy!) and look at the effects on various areas of your life.
✦Return to the intention daily and recommit to it.
I use a little frankincense essential oil to help me ground and center my thoughts.
Just put a drop on your palm, rub your hands together, and then cup your hands over your nose and breathe!
Speak your intention out loud and listen for anything that rings false or feels incomplete so that you can correct your course.
✦Release anything that’s getting in the way.
Sage smudging is my favorite tool for this. If you don’t know how, I give more information in this blog post where there’s a download for a smudging cheat sheet at the end of the post.
✦Take action steps to make it happen.
In my world, setting an intention comes with 3 action steps. Period.
And if your intentions aren’t coming to fruition, ask yourself this: are you treating your intentions like wishes?
Okay, your turn: 1 daily-sized intention, 3 action steps. Come share with us on Facebook!
Hugs—
The post Wishes Rarely Come True Unless You Get Intentional About It appeared first on Maia Toll.
