Halfalope, Individual Mindful Effort in the Fog

There was no ease to following sleep, the drowsiness escaped me, replaced with rewinding every fleeting worry from the day, the week, the month. My Worry Warts grew and nothing would calm them.

When I finally tired of not being tired I feel asleep and into a nightmare that rattled me to the precipice of crazy.

I needed to dissolve the boundaries of crazy, and called to Pete. "Gotta turn the light on, honey." Counting a few beats, I waited long enough for him to shield his eyes. Looking down at my tray of small brown bottles filled with tinctures, I hunted for the one that would cut through the cosmic nuttiness. Stellaria Media. Chickweed.

More often than not, I fill the dropper full, squeeze the tincture into my thin-skinned ceramic sake cup, pour filtered water to the top and sip. But this time I asked for a count. "How many drops?" I really needed to get as close to 'right' as possible. The Wise Woman Tradition says, there are no rules and no right. But I needed a little more security for my worried mania. I think the answer was 19; nearly a dropper's worth but not quite. What was happening? Too many thoughts stalled (Mercury is retrograde) and the Moon and Sun were conjunct (a New Moon in the sign of Pisces).

Life is still pretty crazy here on the edge of winter, with a foot very tentatively moving forward into spring. The spread of virus is on the minds of everyone around us and we heed the warnings and do what we can do, and make mindful decisions given the reality of our resources. What exactly does that mean? Our friend Rev. Eko Noble sent a message the other day. She entitled it "Compassion in Action-How Not to Catch the Flu."

"Individual mindful effort does make a difference in outcome."

The thing we must do, and many others do as well, is to adapt information coming in with the reality of what is. Primary among the actions to take to prevent the spread of this virus is to "wash your hands frequently." Life from a wagon such as we have means (this is how I responded to our friend's email):

" Thanks Eko. I am taking the being in retreat approach, though Pete ends up being the shopper so we have begun taking precautions, and will add some of those suggested in your email. The sneezing into the elbow action (which I do) needs to change.

We have no running water I can use (city water is very unacceptable). Instead we must depend upon spray bottles of vinegar and water, and paper towels and toilet paper that are inexpensive, and not of those brands. We have now filled a spray bottle of St. Joan's Wort tincture with added 100 proof alcohol that I tinctured myself (using Wise Woman Traditional practices) and use the tincture as our 'wash your hands when Pete has been out and about, and then into the car.' This is an occasion to be compassionate and wise, forgiving the realities of limited resources (no running water) and integrate plant medicine to care for us as best we can."

I'm piecing together this post, and including the communication above with the hope it might help someone who reads it. Individual mindful efforts mean knowing there are more than one way to address a challenge and that effort does need to start with accepting there will be fog.  

What helps for me at this point, as Mahina the Moon has moved along on her wobbly path, is this bit of New Moon in Pisces advice:

"I admit this energy might conjure up some mind-fuckery but I think you can avoid most of that if you detach and let it play out.  Basically (Capricorn), let the water find it’s own level and you may be surprised how you benefit (Uranus in Taurus)."

If you're still with me I have a poem to lighten us up and laugh at the wobble of our precious humanity. It's called

Halfalope 
An expression of individual effort in the fog
© Yvonne Mokihana Calizar, 2020

There once was a fella fast and swift as a hare.
His talents were many and his tricks?
Way too many.


The glide to his penny brought beers left and right.
"Ah, tell us the one
About Box Lightning,

Or Carnot, and Carnot."


The man made work the prize.

He was long, lean and cunning.

Clever to cover his soft, tender heart.

One day 'round mid life-time the bravo
Of labor caused our lad
A hitch to his getalong.


Too heavy a board
Should have called, "Help!"
But he'd never.


Time would wait, watch and wonder
About the hinges that held him:
There. There and There.


In winter now present
That hip bone, this knee
Cause him to

Slip some,
and slide there
A gimble.


No one 'cept his bedmate
Knows the shape
Halfalope's Glute muscles
Rise higher on one side
Like dough
While the other?

Remembers when.

↝

Thank you Eko for your compassion, and Aries-ness. Thank you Eileen for your care that is like water. Thank you Pete for your every quirk. Thank you to Susun Weed for sharing People's Medicine. Thank you to Terri Windling and Elsa Panizzon's for your blogs.

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Take care of each other!

Mokihana