Manifesting

On our wall in our kitchen is a handmade and colored map. 2 feet by 3 feet, it is a map of our dream. There is a space for my daughter's music studio, a barn for my son's horses and cats, a writing studio for my husband and my son, a walled in garden to grow vegs, a large orchard, two tree houses, a creativity studio for myself, a small cozy house to sleep, a fire circle in the center of a large circle of trees, a babbling brook, lots of trees, a yurt snuggled in a hidden place, and a large outdoor labyrinth.

It is my dream to have an outdoor labyrinth this close to me. I could walk it everyday. I would share it with others. I would tend to it, nurturing its path. I would grow sweet smelling herbs to mark its way.

I often times live under the directive of 'waiting until'....waiting until I have the time, the money, the space. But recently I have not wanted to wait. I want that labyrinth now! I want to walk it, share it, tend it, help it grow.

Since I don't have the land yet, and instead of heading down the path of feeling sorry for myself or wishing I had more money, I have tried to look at what I do have.

To start, I have it on my kitchen wall. I see it everyday. I watch my youngest trace its path with his tiny fingers. This dream is part of the collective consciousness in this house. We mention it here and there. Usually the comments are "have we forgotten anything," or "when do you think we will have enough money?" or "how long will we wait," "I like that spot best," or "I really want to play in that Mommy." I have this questioning and I like it.

I realize that what I am doing is tending a path, a way of life, a spiritual journey, a dream. Sure, it is not the labyrinth made of stones and grass and herbs, but it is like it. I realize that I am helping to foster an internal labyrinth in myself and in my children. For them to see that we have internal maps, times when we spiral inward and then outward. We have questions about life and we have moments of clarity. And we have dreams that are worth tending.

I recently took out my small hand labyrinth. It has taken me a year or so to want to walk it with my finger instead of my feet. I prefer my feet, but I am learning to settle for my finger. Two nights now I have walked it. And for two nights now I feel this stirring in me that my dream is manifesting. Instead on being on the wall, I now hold the labyrinth in my hands. I can take it with me or leave it on my table. I can walk it each day. I can share it with others (my children want to know more and more about it). I can tend to it (and really I am tending to my own spirit as I hold it). But mostly, I can experience it as part of my everyday life. I hold a bit of my dream in my hands and it feels so right.

Living in Season: Mothering as a spiritual practice

I have been thinking a lot lately about non-traditional spiritual practices. Often times these practices are so apart of our lives that we don't even name them as such. I think if we really consider their power in our lives and the influence they have with our civilized egos, then we will notice the depth these practices take us. Practices such as mothering, walking, writing, and deep empathy bring about a clear and often times a radical shift in my own consciousness. I am wondering what practices are part of your life that take you deep into the center, the place where you receive illumination, insight, clarity, focus?

There is nothing in my life that has changed me as radically (or has taken me even deeper into my true self) than mothering. The three steps of the spiritual path: releasing, receiving, and integrating (as found in Walking a Sacred Path: Rediscovering the Labyrinth as a Spiritual Tool by Lauren Artress) is an old formula for the spiritual journey, but it speaks so well about my own spiritual movement of mothering.

The releasing stage is about letting go, shedding. More often than not, I am feel like I am in the releasing stage. There is so much to let go: old patterns of dealing with conflict, hiding my real thoughts, my schooling experience, my teacher training, the tradition, all the institutions. Not that any one of these things is necessarily bad for my soul, but I am looking for those places that need healing and those places where I desire a balance. This is particularly pertinent to me since I am home with my children attempting unschooling. The whole process of unschooling has been more my process than my children's. They have never been to school. Interestingly, the unschooling of my own mind and experience is the place of intense spiritual growth for me. Unschooling, for me, comes under the umbrella of mothering, so it is linked with my spirituality.

In the receiving stage there is so much to embrace: my personal experiences, my intuition, more silence, my inner voice, insight, clarity, trust, the wisdom of my children. As I watch them and as they teach me, this stage is our lived prayer. Mothering is my prayer. I meditate, I ask, I manifest, I nourish, I receive, I dream, I heal, I trust, I hope, I learn.

The final stage, the integrating stage, is the stage of union, empowerment, and becoming grounded. If you are walking the labrynth, it is the way out from the center. It is the stage when we practice and try on what it was we received from the center. The act of mothering is also my spiritual ground and my spiritual grounding. Slowly I am realizing it is my place of empowerment.

Mothering is not a linear journey. It continually spirals back in on itself and then moves outward again. There are many times when I feel myself drawn inward toward the center and less times when I feel grounded in walking outward.

The spiritual practice of mothering links us to an ancient form of worship: a worship deeply embedded in our natural cycles and in the fibre of our bones; a worship that is like the roots in a tree, extending deeply downward to nourish life upward; a worship that is grounded in the unseen so that the seen can thrive. Mothering at its best, and believe me this happens maybe once a week in our house, is my worship. Like with any good worship, there is so much room for growth and experimenting and creativity. Good worship is a journey, a movement toward the holy.

Peace,
Nicki