Hello Friend, Welcome Old and New Readers!
Out there in media land I watched with brave eyes the video footage of Alton Sterling shot to death. Being reared as I was in the South, the trauma of slavery, the history of the civil war, not to mention the ghost stories I loved to read as a child, hit close to home; race relations, and in particular how we tell those stories in climates where racial and ethnic diversity is hidden, unspoken, or unrecognized is just one of many ponderous things keeping me up at night in the past couple weeks.
At the same time a friend shared on Facebook an essay which asked the question, is it just more white privilege to not speak up on Social Media about these things? It coincided with Charles Eisenstein (one of my favorite thinkers of our day and age) sharing an essay with the wonderful title of, The Fertile Ground of Bewilderment (link posted below).
This day and age much of what is asked of us is certainty- will this cure this, if I do x y and z I won't get hurt right, if I poke this just enough I'll get what I want from it. But the true fabric of the world begs for more of what Charles writes about: bewilderment. When I looked up the etymology on bewilderment I laughed out loud- a word associated with it is pixie, whose West County origin suggest Cornish and Celtic roots, for to go down the pixie path was to be led astray, to let these wee fairies bewilder you, to upset that certainty the material world wants of us. I have been dancing with bewilderment for the past week as well. My son returned home from a month with my family in South Carolina to a whirlwind of a social calendar and then off to his dad's, skeletons surfaced from a loved ones closet, my father was here for two days and then left, and I am left with a sense of bewilderment, of what the hell do I make of all of this? However, by choosing to remain in a state of bewilderment, as opposed to taking a stand for certainty, "I KNOW WHAT TO DO!" I have been able to tap into a deeper reserve of love and strength- the part of myself that feels most initiated, most wise. I am reminded of all the times in early years of mothering, when I would be pushed to my limits, wanting to explode, and somewhere, inside I could reach down inside me and discover more patience, more kindness, more love.
So what do we need when the world offers violence and heartbreak at every turn?
I think bewilderment opens a softer, older, more magical place to come from. For when we turn down that fairy path, let ourselves be led astray, the ground there indeed is fertile. I have been deepening my capacity for wonder on so many levels- watching my tiny garden blossom under my eye, an impressed visitor the other day said, "you've got a green thumb" which to me is a huge compliment given all the much more accomplished folks, but it's true my love of plants has only grown more since deepening my herbal studies, but more importantly my garden is a place where I go when I feel most out of sorts. I sing to my plants, which they seem to enjoy- this week I've been singing the Everly Brothers, Sam Cooke, Gillian Welch, and Hurray for the Riff Raff- songs of love, longing, and heartbreak, my favorite kind of songs.
So after re-vamping the website, I'm back to blogging. This site now has a little shop which has some new potions, thanks in part to our abundant early rose season this past spring, which I'm hashtagging under #goodtastingmedicine, because they are! I will be posting more items in the following weeks so stayed tuned!
If you're reading for the first time, do please comment below. I love to hear from readers. I expect you to mind your manners; I guess that bears repeating in this day and age of faceless commentary and internet trolls.