One Woman, Two Foxes and The Blades of Grass

It really happened this way
I saw a fox
Running free and wild
I saw a fox no longer alive, so very dead

All in one day

I glanced out my window full of green trees dappled in sun
The grass, the leaves, all aglow
While writing a note to a dear someone
In russets and gold with some black on its tail full of flow
That foxy one just sauntered on by, casual and slow,
doing a foxtrot for sure, on her slow run

fox run

I gasped in delight and watched her go
Across the stream, up on the hill, here at Holy Hill
I was granted this glimpse, this gift and Oh!
The beauty of this beast
My first sight of wild fox while sitting still

It makes me cry, it does still
And I know why

In the morn we are born
In the eve we wither and die
We are fragile and fleeting
Like the blades of grass

It doesn’t matter our mass
Our brilliance of mind, stature,
Wealth, talent or form
We all only, only have this day

In the afternoon, much later on this same day, I took a stroll
On a new path, one unexplored and full of grass
I saw some large stones covered in moss
An old well, or trough?

The gray, the green, the flowers, the bees,
The sound of the wind
Moving in the breeze
I wandered over to get a better view
And then I cried and gasped and had to jump back

My fox, not the earlier one,
Once seen, she felt like mine, was lying there so gone
With flies in her eyes
All of Mother Nature’s bugs in and out and about
Her tail, brown and black, swollen and full
No more to play and glide across my window
No more to jump and run, gently or swiftly,
In the rain or in the sun
No more yipping and yapping or joy of catching the hare
With her wildness laid bare, she was now sadly, free of care

All in One day—it happened this way
The Joy, the Sorrow, the Delight and the Fright
I long, I long, with all my might
To see the fox, my fox, again running by on the slope

Perhaps on the morrow
With my heart laid bare
Across the stream, as if in a dream
If I’m lucky and there’s some measure
Of dew and hope

And I’m granted another day
As a blade of grass, as a woman, sitting still by the window sill
I hope to be granted this view and this gift
If, from the Holy One, yet another moment or day
Is given me to borrow

©By Nicole Barchilon Frank, October 1, 2015, 17th of Tishri, 5776

Yom Kippur, Yom Ha-Din, Yom-Ha-Difficulty

Erev Yom Kippur at my cabin in Ireland, getting ready for a day alone of fasting and prayers, by setting the space with beauty and white for purity of intention and space
Erev Yom Kippur;  getting ready for 26 hours of fasting and prayers alone. This photo is from my window-seat. I set my intention/kavannah and space with beauty and white flowers and decor to enhance and imbue my prayers with purity and clarity.

This was the hardest Yom Kippur that I can remember.

My beloved Rabbi Naomi Steinberg says, we should never compare Holy events. She remarks, “this Shabbat was in the top 500,” rather than saying this Shabbat was “the best.” I appreciate this teaching and try to incorporate it into my life, especially around Shabbat observance. It’s a very good reminder to not judge joyful occasions and a great encouragement to be fully present in the moment. The human tendency to compare and contrast and look at something from one celebration and measure it against another celebration can be a way to not honor the people you are together with and it can be decisive.  Not doing this requires tremendous conscious effort. I consistently have to remind myself about this “top 500” idea. Nevertheless, sometimes making a comparison is what needs doing.  Marking the boundaries of this Yom Kippur and defining them feels important because what transpired for me was so intense and significant.

I knew it would be hard to fast and do all the prayers without the support and help of a community of folks, all working together. Those who observe the full fast refrain from eating and drinking from sunset of the holiday, called Erev/Evening until the concluding service called Ne’ila which happens when three stars are visible in the sky of the following day. It was about 25 hours long this year.

On Yom Kippur, congregations around the world, come together and share in the heavy load of prayers. We pray for all people in the world and ask for forgiveness, stating all the wrongs a person can possibly do, we name each act of ugliness and violation that humans do to each other and our planet. We recite these prayers and confessions and supplicate for mercy and look deeply for hours and hours. We rise and we tremble before the Holy One as one giant body of beings, we sway and sing and chant and hope that our sincere presence and effort will help mend the suffering in this world. We support each other with our combined efforts and are all humbled by the process. Doing this all by myself turned out to be very, very hard.

I felt closer to death by 8:00 pm right before the end of the fast than I’ve ever felt in my life. After 25 hours without water or food I was weak and beyond weak, stumbling and dizzy when I tried to stand or walk. It was acutely intense and I was afraid, I wasn’t sure I would ever feel alive again.

My head ached, my limbs were heavy and hard to move, I felt awful, wrung out and completely DONE. I roused myself, in the dark, because my Holiday candle, which had been burning for 25 hours, had just sputtered out. I stood up to say the final three prayers and blow the shofar to mark the end of Yom Kippur. I made it to the end of Yom Kippur and as I chanted the final words of the service, my tears flowed, as they had been doing all throughout this never-ending day. I was dehydrated already from not drinking and because I’d cried so much as well. My water-reserves were at an all time low.

There is an element of Yom Kippur that is about death and getting close to it in a ritual, supported and honest way. We are not exactly trying to emulate the feeling of death, but rather to attend fully to our souls and their life within our bodies. This awareness perhaps will help us be a more alive in the here and now and also gives us a taste of what it might be like when the Holy One takes our souls back to journey among the stars.

I find myself weaving in and out of Holy Time and Connection when I pray, so there is timelessness to all my supplications and praying, and a loosening of the boundaries between space and time. The difference on Yom Kippur is that you can see everyone moving towards their angelic selves and it helps you get through the day when you feel bereft of vigor. We wear white, and in the most traditional communities folks actually wear their burial kittel (part of the Jewish shroud, but also worn for Pesach/Passover). This garment is always white and simple, but modeled after the garment that the High Priest wears. Indeed the Torah portion we read on Yom Kippur from Leviticus 16 describes these garments that the High Priest Aaron is to don in order to come close to the Divine:

He shall be dressed in a sacral linen tunic, with linen breeches over his body; with a linen sash shall he gird himself, and with a linen turban shall he be crowned. These are sacral garments and so he shall bathe himself in water before dressing in them. ~ Leviticus 16:4

These simple sacred garments are what we bury all people in. We are all clothed as the High Priest, rich or poor, we all get the same shrouds, made out of linen preferably or cotton, with no fuss, finery or pockets (who needs a pocket in Heaven?). This equalization in death, that does not happen in life, is an essential teaching. We are all bodies, we are all dust and ashes, in the end and will return to dust, our bodies that is. Our souls are another matter entirely. So, when we loosen our connection to our bodies and focus on our souls that process reminds us to attend fully to being in a body. It’s a funny twist of human nature, that we feel things more in contrast to their opposite. We feel most alive after a long illness, as if we have never ever had it so good. We feel most grateful for everything usually in direct relationship to how long or far away from it we are.

So, I miss my husband extremely now and when I see him again my joy will be beyond measure. I love him the same amount when we are seeing each other every day, but being away from him makes me appreciate and notice his presence and his absence even more.

If we are lucky or we work for it, sometimes all of us, in moments of deepest connecting, we can cross the boundaries of our habitual patterns and conventionality and then we can and do reach that deep place without having to be separated. But we do have to SEPARATE ourselves from the idea that we are individuals or that we are just bodies, in order to have that oceanic, intense, beautiful eye to eye, heart to heart, soul to soul feeling. We can have this feeling  alone in prayer or contemplation, or with friends, with strangers, with beloveds, whenever we get over ourselves, literally.

GET OVER YOURSELF, and move into the person or the tree or flower across from you or near you.

Or, in the case of the Divine, we have to let go of our sense of being alone or thinking that we are only just a body without a soul. We have to get over our tired old story, or our fear, or all the mess and walls that we construct between all that is good and available for us. Yom Kippur is the perfect prescription for doing this.

Mireia, a new friend, and I, getting over ourselves and connecting from a deep place, in Barcelona, April of 2013
Mireia, a new friend, and I, getting over ourselves, in front of a wall, and connecting from a deep place, in Barcelona, April of 2013

So, I am SUPER glad to be in a body today!

The sun is shining and I will go outside and work on creating a Sukkah, since the next Jewish Holiday, my favorite, very embodied holiday (NO FASTING, LOTS OF FEASTING), is in four days. OOPS, I just made a comparison between Holy Events. It sure is hard to avoid doing that. And, I do really enjoy Sukkot a whole bunch. I’m not sure how I will observe it alone, but like all the other adventures I’m having here, I’m sure it will work out beautifully! We do invite in our Holy Ancestors, so I won’t actually ever be alone, and the faeries are always happy to play and dine with me.

What enabled me to actually get through to this moment of aliveness and joy was the NOT BEING ALONE part of my being alone. Let me explain. I was able to connect with my Temple Beth El community, thanks to modern technology and the kindness of some Temple Beth El members who made it possible for there to be a live-stream of their entire Yom Kippur services, all of them.

So, when I was losing it, or too weak to continue my praying I could sometimes manage to log-on to their livestream and see my friends praying. They even said hello to me from the bima and for the Kol Nidre service I could hear my son Ethan’s voice, which made me immensely joyful. I think it was Rabbi Naomi’s husband Saul, who took the camera and turned it at the end of Tuesday night’s services, so that I could see my boychik in the flesh. There he was, clapping and singing  and I got a glimpse of him for one joyous moment before the livestream went offline. I cannot even begin to express the joy I felt. It was beyond expression! It was 5:45 a.m. for me and I’d been tuning in and out to their prayers since 2:45 a.m.

At Temple Beth El, they were eight hours “behind” where I was in my prayer cycle, but finding them wherever they were throughout the 25 hours of my process made all the difference for me. Here’s a link to one of the services, so you can see for yourself these magnificent humans in their white angelic garments and in their angelic personifications and expressions:

http://www.ustream.tv/recorded/73977780

A friend also turned me on to a wonderful streaming of services. I could watch this community when I wasn’t able to connect with the Temple Beth El community. It is a new experimental community based in New York City and is called Lab/Shul.  Here’s their definition of self-hood from their website: “Welcome to LAB/SHUL, an artist-driven, everybody-friendly experimental community for sacred Jewish gatherings based in NYC and reaching the world.” They have a musical line-up and people singing straight from their hearts and souls and their services were AMAZING.

They chant a line or two from one of our traditional long prayers and dispense with the volumes of words that accompany the usual liturgy. Their knowledge of the Hebrew and the prayers was deep, deep enough that they could fly out to the stars with their roots grounded but able to fly straight up towards the Heavens. It was pretty extraordinary when I could catch them. Amichai Lau-Lavie, their Spiritual Leader, also gave a great teaching, in between the chanting, music and praying. I was transported when I could catch up with them. He mentioned Pope Francis and his Encyclical. I’m  in the land of Catholics and Pope Francis and his teachings are a common feature of discussion here. I’m not sure how many Jewish folks were talking about Pope Francis this Yom Kippur, but it was pretty perfect for me, considering where I am.

And, here at my hermitage, three other hermits came and spent a brief amount of time with me in prayer. They did this out of the kindness of their hearts and because, even though this week is a silence and solitude week, they wanted to support me in my Jewish practice. So, two Catholic nuns and one Catholic contemplative came to sit with me and pray with me late in the afternoon of Yom Kippur, This is usually one of the hardest times of the day, when I was feeling pretty gray and not interested in continuing to pray or even be much in a body. Their presence uplifted me. It was lovely to pray with folks across the boundary of religion. It made no difference what specific faith tradition we identified with. We were able to be as one in our GETTING OVER OURSELVES. That’s my new mantra, I hope I can carry it through beyond this moment.

My “getting over myself” Yom Kippur crossed several time-zones. I started before all my community, eight hours earlier than the Californians, five hours before the East Coasters, two hours later than the Israelis, but somehow all of us were joined in a completely other place, a Holy time. After all, Divine time is nothing like human time. So, I crossed lots of boundaries and went a little too close to that feeling of weakness and torpor that comes from the body not having enough nourishment. I almost always observe the complete fast, no water or food, so this year’s feeling closer to death was unexpected. It gave me tremendous compassion and more appreciation for those who are actually approaching death of their bodies, friends who are in hospice care right now, friends who have been and are struggling with long debilitating illnesses and/or cancers that come and go, folks who are starving, literally because they are poor or because they are being tortured.

Why would anyone willingly choose to feel these things?

Doing so, even once a year, renews my commitment to serving the Divine in all my parts, with all my organs, senses and abilities. Until the world is a place of wholeness, kindness and equality, like what we pray and hope for, we all have to dedicate ourselves and look at ourselves deeply so that we can attune to Justice and to Goodness. This day is also called Yom Ha-Din which means the Day of Judgment or Trial. We are on trial for not doing enough for those who are suffering and for whatever we do that increases suffering on this planet.

Now, the good news is; that many, many, more people are doing this good work and are engaged in lessening suffering and violence, than the newspapers, news agencies and stories you hear in the mainstream media, would make you think. We are the majority. Those of us working, praying, living for Goodness, Justice and Mercy are in numbers beyond measure. We will make and are making a difference and every time one of us reaches deeper and longer and connects it makes a change in the flow and fabric of time and in the flow of events on this beautiful and wild spinning orb we call home. We are all b’tselem Elohim (in an image of Holiness). This means we are POWERFUL and CAPABLE of doing miraculous things!

To end my fast, before I began it, being the Virgo, Alpha female that I still am, even alone, I had made my brother Paul’s Dahl. I did indeed have a little bowl of it, which was more than I could actually finish, at the end of my ordeal. I was still a little too close to the other side and felt sick and weak. I ate because I knew I needed to, not because I felt hungry. I was beyond hunger when the three stars in the sky had emerged to announce the END of the fast. So, after my three glasses of water and my small bowl of soup, I slept for a few hours.

My usual sleep pattern is, if I’m lucky, four hours, than maybe another two if I get really lucky. So, at my usual time, which was around 2 a.m., I got up. I was hungry then and I opened my tiny fridge and decided to have a small bowl of yogurt.  This was yogurt that the nuns had gotten for me.  I had asked for organic plain whole yogurt. I am endeavoring to not eat sugar or gluten currently. But, somehow, they and I, missed the blueberries on the label. Those small blue berries were tiny in the picture at the bottom of the container. In fact, the plain yogurt and the blueberry yogurt look very similar, but guess what, they aren’t similar at all.

I was so HAPPY, you have no idea, with that blueberry surprise. That marvelous “mistake,” that the Holy One surely orchestrated for me, of blueberries and just a drop of sugar in a perfect blend of Irish whole milk yogurt, ummmmm, yummmmm. I cannot even begin to tell you how fabulous that bowl of yogurt at 2 a.m. in the morning was. I only hope, wherever you are, in whatever timezone, or faith tradition, or state of wellness or illness you are currently experiencing, you stop and take a moment to breathe and appreciate this moment of your being alive, in a body. Hopefully you can find a moment and are able to say with all your being Todah Rabah/Immense and Great Thanks! If not, have somebody go get you some blueberry yogurt!

I’m closing with a photo of my lunch today, which was at 3 p.m.; this seems to be when I want to eat lunch here. I basically don’t eat dinner, just a snack, or piece of fruit. But, my appetite has returned and so this was my lovely large luncheon. The carrot salad was a new invention and I’ll put up that recipe sometime soon. The Dahl, yogurt raita and lightly cooked kale are all recipes you can discover here, should you want to recreate this meal. The lamb chops are from a local butcher with lamb from a nearby field. The kale and carrots and cucumber (in the raita) are all from the garden here. It’s nice to feel alive again and have this kind of feast for my tummy as well as for my eyes and heart.

Food for my Body and Soul
Food for my Body and Soul
Detail of the Holy Feast!
Detail of the Holy Feast!

Healing Trauma, Abuse, and Abandonment: Over Time and With Help

Nicole and Roxy, September 2013 Nicole and Roxy, September 2013

The following sharing was written by my God-daughter Roxy Greenspan. She sent me two of her college papers a few months ago and I asked her permission to use them on my website. She agreed. I am extremely proud of Roxy for being a truly extraordinary woman, for rising out of the ashes and trauma of her childhood and becoming the kind, intelligent and phenomenal woman she is today. You will see all of this in her writing and sharing here.

I am including Roxy’s work on my blog for several reasons, first of all because she is a clear voice for healing and hope even after tremendous difficulty and childhood distress, and secondly because Roxy is also describing her process and her growth through trauma into wellness. No matter what hardships we encounter, her example and her ideas and her victories can help all of us move forward and into hope, healing and wholeness.

Developmental Theory Paper for Pacific Oaks College:

By Roxy Greenspan © 2015

As an adult, and after some personal work and reflection, I am able to better understand my current patterns of communication, coping mechanisms, and the way I operate in the world as a result of the cumulative experiences that have made up my life. I have always struggled with how I identify in the world and with whom. Born into a family of alcoholism, mental illness, and homelessness, my support systems were often lacking, and when present, inconsistent and insecure. My mother’s inabilities to care for me as a child and her wish for me to have experiences in life that she could not give me, such as emotional love and support, resulted in me living in the homes of various people throughout my childhood.

My mother’s history of relationships with homeless, abusive addicts led her to being a single mother of four children, one with severe disabilities.  Her own mental illness and debilitating depression resulted in her often being unable to care for her children. My lifestyle was my norm and I didn’t know any other, it was just my life—utter chaos. I knew that it was different from other people’s lives, but I didn’t know how people judged my family. Later I gained an understanding of how societal biases and systems of oppression only worsened my family’s situation, furthering the chances of generational disadvantage. There was a lack of knowledge and services for my severely autistic brother, lack of support for my mother, lack of money and an overall lack of equal opportunity to life.

My brother, Jake, is severely autistic and non-verbal along with various other diagnosis. I have experienced the gut wrenching pain of witnessing my brother in pain and suffering and feeling completely powerless. With very limited means of communication, he was unable to express himself or make decisions for himself about his life. My brother has had the most terrifying life experiences that I could imagine. Not only did he experience the dysfunction of our home life and being institutionalized, but he was unable to express himself, be understood, and suffered greatly. Having a brother with severe disabilities has contributed to my development of empathy, compassion, and accepting differences among people. My mother fought with every tooth and nail to get support for him, but at the same time, she was miserable and desperate, taking out her anger and sadness on her children.

Beginning from infancy, I was moved around to live with different families who would care for me for periods of time when my mother could not. There were so many families that I cannot account for who or where I was living for many years of my childhood and cannot access memories for those times. This pattern of living with various different people made it extremely difficult for me to foster a strong sense of self-identity. I was not a part of their family. I had not experienced their family culture and could not relate to it. I was only observing it and playing the part to fit in temporarily.

I became consumed with needing to fit into other people’s lives, having them accept me and like me, so they would let me stay. As a result, I became a “people-pleaser” who put all others’ needs and desires first before even considering my own. I would often agree to things that made me feel uncomfortable and sacrificed my own needs. In fact, I could not even identify my own needs. I think some of this behavior developed from guilt that I had from inconveniencing these people’s lives by entering them. I felt more content in having other people’s needs met even if it made me feel bad than hurting someone’s feelings or upsetting someone by saying “no.” No matter what I did, I was never an equal in these homes. I was just a visitor from a broken home.

While I was provided for in the form of shelter, physical safety, and attention, I lacked in emotional connectedness. I remember an incident in which my heart broke. It was Mother’s Day. I had been living with a family who had another daughter the same age as me. I was living six hours away from my birth mother and wanted desperately to express my gratitude and love for the mother who I lived with at the time. I picked her a bouquet of flowers and created a handmade card that I displayed lovingly on the living room mantle that morning because I was too nervous to give them directly to her. Later that day, I remember seeing the flowers and card in the trash can. She never said anything to me about the incident, nor did I. Yearning for the love of a mother, I cried privately.

At times when I did live with my birth mother, I often experienced physical and verbal abuse. She was inconsistent in her moods and behaviors. She was often screaming at us children, crying hysterically, and cooking in a manic fashion into the wee hours of the morning. Food was a big theme in my mother’s house. While we lived off of welfare and food stamps, she was extremely quality oriented with food. She shopped for only local, organic groceries and was knowledgeable in areas of health and nutrition. She often put me down for being chubby and fat as a child and adolescent. I would feel worthless because I was needing acceptance and acknowledgement that I was good enough and loved in the world in order to develop a healthy sense of self and esteem. I later learned of her own struggles with bulimia and self-image. She modeled a dysfunctional relationship with body image and food that I would carry with me for my entire life.

Where my home was, it’s hard to say. I do not have many memories of my younger years and there are times throughout my life that I cannot recall with whom or where I was living. From these experiences, I struggled in developing self-identity from my family culture. I was not given the time or space to appreciate and develop what was special and unique about myself. As a result of this, I am indecisive and need to be reassured often. I often doubt myself and look to others for confirmation and approval. I feel inadequate and un-confident in my abilities instead. I am often questioning my actions and experiencing high levels of anxiety over seemingly minute issues.

Later in life, I did not identify myself as being an equal member of society. I became aware of the discrimination, judgments, and biases people, who did not fit societal expectations, experience, people who are labeled not “normal” and who have experienced life and early years of development differently. I felt that I did not belong and developed low self-worth. I was very depressed for many years and had difficulty being comfortable in my own body and experiencing life. I did not want to be alive to continue enduring such emotional pain and suffering. While not all of the depression, pain, and anxiety has gone away, I have learned new coping skills and ways of processing emotional pain in order to lead a healthier life. While I have developed resilience and strength, it is not without the experiences that have positively impacted my development.

When I was in the first grade, I was living with my mother, sister, and two younger brothers in Arcata, California. I attended public school where I made friends with a young girl. It is from that friendship that I met my God-Mother, Nicole. I call her my Fairy God-Mother. I look like I could be straight from her womb with our shared brown freckles, round features, and luscious red hair. We even share the same birthday. She has always been my one constant, unconditionally loving presence in my life. She has taught me everything about compassion, love, and acceptance of others. She has dedicated her life to serving others. She has modeled the most honorable way to live life; by healing others with love. I don’t know how it happened, just as any other family who I lived with, but she recognized my needs and sought to fulfill them in some way. Nicole had two children of her own and a husband. She had a family, but she invited me into their lives and enriched mine in the most abundant way.

Roxy, Issac, Shira with Mama Nicole in Boulder Colorado, Summer of 1991 Issac, Roxy and my daughter with Mama Nicole in Boulder Colorado, Summer of 1992

Nicole was the first person who helped me understand that my mother did love me, she just didn’t know how to take care of children or show that love. She helped me understand that my mother’s anger and abuse came from her own hurt and it was not my fault. She provided me with safety and emotional support, encouraging me to express my own sadness and hurt. She couldn’t save me from all the hurt, but she acknowledged me for being the special, lovable person I am. For those living in darkness, the impact of one shining star to light up your life is sometimes all it takes. For me, Nicole was that shining star.

Another important experience in my development has been in my relationship with my boyfriend of eleven years, Elaeth. I have not only found unconditional love, but also the one thing I had lacked my entire youth; stability. I have found the person I can rely on, who keeps me safe, who I can give and receive love and attention from. I have often felt that he is my whole family: my mom, dad, siblings, everything. He has contributed to my ability to develop through his constant presence and love.

From being a part of Elaeth’s family, I have been involved in a big family with nieces, nephews, cousins, grandparents, and parents; the glue of the family. He is one of seven siblings, living in close proximity, that often celebrate events together. While his family experienced their own challenges and adversities, they demonstrated to me the ultimate power of love for one another and involved me in being a part of that. Two years ago, Elaeth’s older sister Clare died of alcoholism. It was in the last three months of her life that I witnessed and became a part of the dedication of family and the strength that can occur from this relationship. The entire family provided 24-hour care, in shifts, for Clare, throughout the last three months of her life, providing all of her medical and daily needs as she was confined to a bed. Our shift was Saturday and Sunday. The family communicated, shared grief and joy, and ultimately surrounded her with the most intentional love possible.

I reflected on how this family was able to completely surround her with their love and attention for three straight months. During this time, I was working full-time and taking fifteen units of college courses. I was physically, mentally, and emotionally exhausted, and yet there was not a question as to whether or not we could do this. Everyone’s lives were simultaneously occurring while they took on their role as hospice caretakers, providing the most attentive, loving care. I reflected on my family, being only my mother, two brothers and sister. I couldn’t help but wonder what would happen to one of us in a similar situation and who would be there, who would care enough.

Currently, my mother and youngest brother are homeless and I live in fear that it could easily be me. I do not have an accurate concept of my achievements or stability in my environment, and constantly fear that it could all be taken away in a moment. From this fear, I have developed a need to control my environment in ways that protect me and what I have created for in my life.

While my physical, emotional, and cognitive development has been permanently altered from living in chaos, I have also gained super-hero strength. Living with adversity has given me a reason to build up resilience. Being an advocate for people with intellectual disabilities, mental illness, and people living in poverty has given me fulfillment in relating to various types of people. My life experiences have substantially increased my intrinsic motivation to create my own physical safety and stability. I have gained an ability to withstand periods of intense stress throughout my life, and persevere. I am sensitive and empathize with various types of people, especially those in need. My experiences have brought me to where I am today and my work with children. Studying Early Childhood Education for the past ten years, has not only contributed greatly to my own personal development and understanding of myself, but has given me the tools and knowledge so that I can impact other people’s lives in positive ways and contribute to the healthy development of children.

All people are born into the world with a baseline of their temperament and personality traits. They will have tendencies to be more or less susceptible to certain ailments than others. Internal wiring is uniquely designed, affecting an individual’s pattern of thoughts. The process of maturation is abundantly clear. We can only scaffold knowledge onto previously known information, keeping in mind our cognitive safety. We cannot truly learn something we are not ready to learn. This is the aspect of nature in our development.

As soon as we enter the world, we begin processing, interacting and responding to the people and stimuli in our environment. Areas of development are strongly influenced by the conditions in which we grow and learn from. We are influenced by the most important adults in our lives who shape our young minds. It can make the difference for a developing mind and heart to have one ally. One person who fully nurtures his or her sense of worth and encourages them through the difficulties they face. We are always growing, learning, changing.

Developmental Theory Analysis Paper:

By Roxy Greenspan ©2015

My personal experiences have contributed to my knowledge and understanding of developmental theory. From my childhood, I developed patterns in response to my constantly changing environment. I have since become aware of my behaviors and tendencies in the world as a result of my life experiences. While I have always been a sensitive, caring, and generous person, my behaviors and patterns have evolved over time. In my early years, the lack of attachment to my mother led me searching for attachment and acceptance. In my adolescent and teen years, I became completely disengaged from my family for a period of time. I could not confront or process any of the pain I had experienced and turned to very unhealthy patterns of coping, such as self-harm, alcohol, and drugs. In my adulthood, I have developed healthier patterns of creating my own space to continue developing healthy behaviors, thus being more available to help others. Every stage of my development has been vital in contributing to where I am now and the knowledge I have gained.

Having an unstable living environment has resulted in me being very focused on creating stability for myself as an adult. I often try to maintain control over my environment and outcomes of events in my life. I become very anxious, over-anticipating events and unknown situations. In general, I have developed a desire to be in control of many areas of my life. My pattern of creating stability is also seen in my relationship with my boyfriend of eleven years. While I have been successful in creating stability for myself, the fear that it could vanish remains as I nurse my relationship with my homeless mother and brother. Understanding their lifestyle and struggles, because of their homelessness, makes it too much of a reality, and I am unable to dismiss the possibility of it happening to me.

My experiences as a child and adolescent that were painful, emotionally, physically, and cognitively, have given me perspective and empathy for others who live in high risk environments or who are experiencing challenges in their lives. I am instinctively drawn to people who are in need, who require tender love and care. I am deeply sensitive to people’s feelings and because I have experienced such pain, I do not want others to have to endure their pain alone. I have, also, had the amazing experience of a loving presence in my life; my God Mother, Nicole. Understanding the impact of her love and nurturing has resulted in my pattern of providing that for others. I feel most adequate when I am helping others or when I can positively influence another person’s life.

Another pattern that I have developed is my ability to find immense strength during times of stress. I have lived most of my life with sympathetic nervous system detecting threat. My emotional and physical being has remained in a protective state of constant stress. Because this is my reality and will continue to be, I have adapted to the state of being under extreme stress. As a result, I have noticed the pattern of elevating my stress levels consistently. It has become my normal state. I believe that I function more productively and am more connected to the world when I have many commitments and responsibilities, often involving the care of others. While many of the stress inducing situations that occur are a result of my family dynamic, I also have become aware of my actions that contribute to maintaining this state.

I believe that in order to excuse myself from dealing with some of the more challenging situations that occur within my family, I become extremely busy to fill my time and energy. If I am focused on all of these other responsibilities, it is more understandable that I would not have energy to put towards processing the hard stuff. It is more acceptable for me to avoid responsibilities, such as becoming my brother’s conservator, when I am completely occupied by my current responsibilities. Although I am conscious of this pattern of justifying my actions, I continue to feel immensely guilty for not doing more for others.

I have worked very hard to consciously change negative patterns that became a regular part of myself. One of my earliest formed patterns of people pleasing behavior has taken me many years to shift. It was not until I became confident in my abilities as an early educator and received mentorship from many important co-workers who affirmed my abilities that I could begin to believe it. In finally identifying my strength, what is special and unique about me, and gaining support in my professional experiences, I was able to develop more direct communication with others, specifically regarding my needs or situations that could be uncomfortable.

In school, I was so disconnected for many years because I could not focus on the irrelevant information being fed to me. I attended a prestigious preparatory high school my senior year because the family who I was living with at the time had ties to the school. I had no intention of going to college upon graduation. I had no motivation to excel. I was very depressed and using alcohol heavily. For many years I continued this pattern in an effort to push away pent-up emotions and trauma that I wasn’t ready to face. While it seemed like a way to not deal at the time, it only intensified my depression.

I have been able to build upon positive patterns in my life through years of growth, processing, working on my relationships, and positive reinforcement. I have consciously made a decision to lead a healthy life where I can positively influence others. I know now that I can only do that if I take care of myself first. I have become a dedicated student. I have worked on replacing negative self-thoughts with positive statements and affirmations. I am applying myself in life and believing that I am capable and competent. I have gotten a degree in Early Childhood Education and I am continuing my education to be an effective leader in my field. I have been reaching beyond my comfort zone and applying for other positions in leadership in education. Most importantly, I am recognizing how to meet my own needs.

In my relationship with my birth mother, I have had tremendous growth and development. With a deeper understanding of myself and of her mental illness, I have replaced old patterns, which maintained our hurtful relationship, with healthier ones. I have developed patterns to protect my safety while maintaining and building a loving relationship with her. I have developed clear boundaries, such as her not knowing where I live, saying “no,” and standing up for myself. I see her in the most humane way. I understand her behaviors are strongly influenced by her life experiences, which have been excruciating. While it is not an excuse for the way she treated her children, I do not hold hatred or anger towards her. I believe only love can heal. I have developed deep empathy and love for my mother. I see her strengths and the ways that she has contributed, and continues to contribute to who I am today, and for that I am thankful.

I have taken my fears and shifted them into motivation and determination to create a life for myself that involves comfort, affection, joy, and security. I have worked full-time and gone to school to be able to provide for myself and to break cycles of generational disadvantage. I am breaking cycles of abuse, addiction, and homelessness. In order to do so, I have built on many positive patterns and created new patterns in my life. I continue to work on balancing my energies, being present in the moment, and doing what I love each day. I believe my patterns will continue to change as I learn from further experiences and as my needs change.

From my educational and personal experiences of human development, I recognize how aspects of Erick Erickson’s Psychosocial Development Theory is apparent. Erickson’s theory is based on the idea of maturation spanning a lifetime. Through eight essential stages, he demonstrates how it is necessary for people to develop in specific areas before they are ready to learn in other areas. According to Erickson’s theory, the crisis presented in these stages will foster the development of specific patterns in life, resulting in different personality traits and tendencies.

I honestly believe that I wouldn’t be able to make the positive choices in my life without the strife and struggles that I encountered. The type of support a person receives through these stages and crisis, will influence their behavior. Without having the opportunity to learn from my mistakes and difficulties I would not have come upon the conclusions that I have. The epigenetic principal, which states that we need to establish certain foundations before we can move on to other developmental stages, supports this belief.  Every experience I have had up to this point has contributed to my development and thought processes.

Erickson’s theory is inclusive of variation and acknowledges that multiple areas of development can be present at any stage, although certain values are dominant. This theory acknowledges the conditions in which people build resilience and adapt. I adapted to various situations throughout my life. From my personal and professional experiences in human development, it is crucial to acknowledge that development is unique for an individual and does not always fit one model precisely.

I believe people grow and mature over time as long as they are interactive with their environment and are stimulated. I believe that different areas of development can be delayed due to traumatic experiences. I believe people have strengths in certain areas of development over others due to their experiences and genetic make-up. I also believe that it is our nature to adapt to almost any situation due to our survival instinct. People will seek out ways to meet their needs, in whatever ways they know how. Without the positive influences in my life, I could have very easily sought out my need for attachment and identity in unhealthy places or continued to build on my own negative patterns.

My feelings throughout my life of being anxious, fearful, and trying to maintain control in situations, relate to the ideas of Attachment Theory as described by John Bowlby and Mary Ainsworth. The idea that a person will develop specific patterns relating to relationships as a result of their attachment, or lack thereof, with their mother. Because of the lack of attachment that I experienced with my mother and the lack of stability in my life, I aim to fill that void in the ways that I can. I have seen the impact in some of my preferences, such as how I do not like to travel, I get homesick very easily, crave stability and being able to predict an outcome in all areas of my life. I have developed the belief that I can only depend on myself.

My theory of child development is strongly influenced by Jean Piaget, with the belief that children must be actively engaged in their environment to construct their own knowledge and understanding of the world. As they develop, their ideas will change and expand as their experiences do. I have supported play based learning throughout my work with children, acknowledging where children are developmentally and their beliefs. This type of support contributes to the development of a healthy self-esteem and worth.

From studying early childhood education, I have learned of the importance of the early years of development and how much information young minds are susceptible to. When children are stimulated in positive ways, through talking, reading, movement, imagination, and self-expression children continue to grow and develop. Development is stimulated through a safe, secure environment where one can explore in, delight in, and construct their own knowledge through the experiences they have. There will be trial and error, cause and effect, challenges and victories. These struggles and successes aid children in coming to conclusions or theories about how the world operates and what are successful ways of operating in the world.

Just as there are ways to foster healthy development in children, there are ways that can hinder development in certain areas. Emotional, psychological, and physical abuse affects cognitive functioning and impedes the ability to learn other skills. When a developing mind is focused on getting its needs met, it is less able to develop in other areas. When children are experiencing stress in their lives, it can also appear in unexpected ways. A child who is exhibiting challenging behaviors at school or with adults may be experiencing some kind of emotional pain and needs help processing it. Adults can support children in processing their thoughts and feelings and scaffold knowledge. When a child’s needs are met and nurtured, development flourishes.

While there are many beliefs of human development, I continue to find myself drawn to theories that demonstrate how development is not solely linear. There is room for individuality and unique circumstances. There is room for progression and regression. There will be unresolved issues in our lives that will present themselves later and areas of development that we will rapidly catch up on over time. As a living, human organism, we are born into the world with every cell in our body working diligently to not only survive, but adapt to various situations and challenges.

Enlightening, Enervating, Excruciating, Enraptured and Examined Elul on the Isle of Eire

2015-09-08 13.01.05 HDR
The View from where I sit and pray and meditate, just a two-minute meander down the bank of brambles I cleared.

I ordered a shofar from “the Tallit Man,” an operation out of Florida. Along with the shofar, the owner made a YouTube for me, with my shofar, showing me how it sounds and that it sounds. A shofar is made from a ram’s horn.

“All horns may be used, except those of cows and oxen, because their horn is called keren and not shofar. And also the horn of the cow and the ox is not acceptable because the accuser must not be made to serve the defender, that it may not be said: Yesterday they made the golden calf, and today they come to appease their Maker with the horn made from it.” ~S. Y. Agnon (from page 246 of Mahzor Hadesh Yameinu ~Renew Our Days~A Prayer-Cycle for Days of Awe~ Edited and translated by Rabbi Ronald Aigen

Jewish folks blow the shofar during the month of Elul, in the mornings, except on Shabbat. We blow it also to usher in our New Year called Rosh Hashanah and to mark the end of Yom Kippur. We blow it whenever we want to pierce the protections around our hearts and also the layers of klippot (hard shells created by our wrongdoings) that obscure our pure and radiant souls. It is not an easy sound, it is not an easy thing to make a sound with.

from: https://rabbisremembering.files.wordpress.com/2011/08/elul.jpg
Hebrew image of the word Elul taken from: https://rabbisremembering.files.wordpress.com/2011/08/elul.jpg

I think, other than ancient shepherds, the sounds I’ve been making in the hills of Eire with my ram’s horn are pretty unique. Although the cows across the stream in the next field and I seem to be communing as a result. Also, the crows don’t seem to mind the sound. The sound is supposed to remind us of the Akedah, (the story of Abraham and his sacrifice/binding of Isaac). At the very last second, an angel points out the ram in the bushes and the ram becomes the sacrifice, not Isaac. But Isaac was the sacrifice and this story is a haunting and intense one. There are many, many interpretations of it, perhaps another time, I’ll give you some of them.

I need to get back now, here and now, to “my Elul” in Eire. So, the loud, Jewish, Alpha female is living at a silent Catholic Carmelite Hermitage/monastery, no, this is not the beginning of a joke, but it could be. Here are some of the practices, sayings, rules here: No Fuss, Silence from 7pm-9am, every day (exception of prayers said in mornings and evenings), Silence Mondays-Tuesdays (complete day), Silence for a full week once a month, oh yes, silence in general, unless you really have to ask a question, but even then it’s preferred if you write a note. Oh and let’s not forget the basic vows of Catholic religious folks: Obedience, Chastity and Poverty.

Those of you who actually know me, are going to be laughing  hard right now. I am the opposite of “No Fuss.” Obedience and I have never been cozy, Chastity and I aren’t and never have been related and while I’ve lived in poverty in my single-mother years, it was never something I wanted to be doing. Simplicity and I are also like oil and water. If I can make something spicier, more involved, more complicated, then I usually do. Visually my home, body and any spaces I live in, are fully colored, adorned and they are also full of imagery and visual patterns. I am also the opposite of moderated, quiet, and sparse.

When I got to my simple cabin named “Clare” for the companion of St. Francis of Assisi, I opened a card from one of my dear friends. She had instructed me not to open it ” ‘til you get to your cabin in Ireland.” So, I opened it to one of her original art pieces with Hebrew teachings. It said: “I am dust and ashes” in Hebrew and English. I broke into tears, and am doing so now. This person knows me very well and is my “spiritual buddy,” I’ve given her permission to always say the hard things to me and to help me grow and she does. Five minute pause to sob here….that’s what I just did.

Elul is about self-examination. I timed my arrival here so that I would be here in time to have the full month of Elul in this space where all I get to do, if I choose to, is self-examine and correct. So, here where it is actually more perfect than I could ever have imagined, with robins, swallows, crows and the wind as my companions, I am and have been looking deeply at myself.

I do this every Elul, but this Elul is different because I am alone. Except, I feel anything but alone. The presence of the Divine is with me all the time and the Holy One is more accessible to me here, because there is no NOISE and no DOUBT and no INTERRUPTIONS to my connecting. The only sounds I hear from my cabin, are the stream outside my window, the crows, the cows, and the wind or rain. I can avoid seeing all people by choosing what hours I go to the main house to get my food or do my laundry, or I can choose to see folks but go on a day of silence so no conversations will ensue. Or, I can choose to join the people here in prayer and silent meditation on the days when that is happening.

I didn’t think I would set foot in their chapel. I mean no offense to my Christian friends, but hanging out with a cross on a wall while I am praying, has never been something easy for me. I used to have violent images come up for me with crosses and pyres of Jews combined, the crosses pushing the Jews into the flames. That is not the case for me here. First of all, it’s a beautiful space where the hermitage folks pray, very simple wooden small space, “no fuss,” and thankfully those images, from my people’s historic past, are no longer haunting me.

The most luminous part of being in this place and worshiping with these folks, is that everyone here is in love with Ha-Shem. The deep delight and beauty of that is extraordinary for me. It’s a feast for me to be around people who are in a relationship with Holiness that is not a chimera or philosophy. These folks have been living a religiously engaged life for their entire lives. They are not neophytes at worship, at communion, at listening to the voice in the silence. They are deep practitioners and to be in their presence is to be in the presence of Peace and Holiness. (Don’t worry, I’m not planning to become a Carmelite Nun).

I know this feeling of complete connection. I’ve had it whenever and wherever I go that people are not in question about the presence of the Divine in their world. I have experienced it with my Moslem friends, with my Jewish friends, with my Buddhist friends, with my Wiccan friends and my Native American Friends, with my Hindu friends. I experience it wherever folks are connecting from a place of love to the Divine, however they define that. I do not want to cause any distress to anyone who does not have this feeling. I am just trying to explain that the environment here is very different from the world at large. This place is steeped in and radiates Relationship to Reverence.

That’s why I’m here. Hee Ney Ni-Here I Am, which is what Abraham says to Ha-Shem when he is called. It’s what I am trying to say here, every day. Here I am, in my mess, my mistakes, my loud intensity, my large appetites, and my fussy, particular, complicated humanness. As I get better at sounding the shofar, the layers of my junk, the hard shells that obscure my soul, are getting shattered. Shattering anything is not easy or gentle. While I am in a gentle landscape, the work I am doing is not particularly gentle. It’s ragged and rough. It’s dark here at night, all my fears come forward, all my pain around issues that are old and familiar for me emerge, all my missing of those I love, most especially my husband, comes to the forefront and I find myself sobbing and sobbing. AND, the Exciting and Enraptured part of this is that there is no one here to interrupt my process or for me to appease or be taken care of, so I get to go really deep and actually heal from my core.

The Angels and the Holy One are here taking care of me, the stream and the green leaves are here taking care of me, the roses outside my front door are taking care of me, the view of clouds crossing the sky is taking care of me, the silence and the stillness is taking care of me, the warm cup of milk I fix myself with honey, nutmeg, cinnamon and vanilla (not a simple, no-fuss glass of warm milk) is taking care of me. Hee Ney Ni, Here I Am, open to whatever needs to unfold.

Shofar, Challah under orange cloth, Shabbat oil-wicks and one of my Holy Views right before Shabbat.
Shofar, Challah under orange cloth, Shabbat oil-wicks and one of my Holy Views right before Shabbat.

This place is the safest, kindest place I’ve ever been in my entire life.

I have never felt more enclosed and able to be fully tender and exposed than here. The quality of this place is delicious and gentle and I feel held here in ways I cannot completely express. So, I’m not traveling to Dublin to spend the Jewish New Year/Rosh Hashanah with other Jews. I’m staying here, and quietly and deeply saying the prayers that all my folks will be saying. I’ll play the recording, lovingly offered and made for me, of our Temple Beth El Choir, singing the songs they would be singing. I’ve actually been listening to it over and over, and sobbing or singing along. I miss my family, I miss my community and my friends. And, it is okay for me to miss them, because I am not missing my connection to what runs through all of us and the world. That is here for me in every breath, in every view, in every birdsong and stream sound and in the quiet smiles and presence of those around me who are also in communion with the Divine.

L’Shana Tova U’Metuka (A sweet New Year) I wish for you all.

August Full Moon behind the clouds, my cabin, (named Clare) below, Hi Ney Ni/Here I Am, safe in Home and Hearth and Enraptured in Eire.
August Full Moon behind the clouds, my cabin, (named Clare) below, Hee Ney Ni/Here I Am, safe in Home and Hearth and Enraptured in Eire.

Nettles and Nips~Brambles and Breezes~Blowing, Breaking and Binding

My Breakfast nook view, with flowers from outside my cabin
My Breakfast Nook view, with flowers from outside my cabin, and some brambles in the background!

My fingers sting from the nettles I collected. The nettles grow everywhere here, like the grass and the blackberries and the miscellaneous brambles. My definition of a bramble is:

a combination of berry vines of some kind, nettles, other twisty plants or wild roses with thorns and, of course, mischievous faery folk

There are a lot of brambles hereabouts. I was very careful with the nettles. I know they are good food, really good food. They can be eaten if you cook them or dry them. To get them to that place, first you have to cut and prepare them, which means you will be stung, some, even if you are wearing gloves and long sleeves, at some point the nettle will collect her payment, either when you harvest her or when you prepare her for eating.

This is as it should be.

“The Universe is a Green Dragon,” by Brian Swimme is a book I read that was given to me by a nun, named Dolores, who was a sociology teacher at Humboldt State University. The book is a beginning physics primer. It is physics for those just beginning on the journey of wondering about how the universe dances and how energies move about in that dance. In that lovely tiny, thin, little book is a discourse about how everything has a cost or energy signature.

There is no VOID or something without nothing. All things have a cost so to speak. It is not about how many coins you deposit in the hand of the vendor, but just that even if you do not see the vendor, or the hand, or if you think plants don’t have feelings, or you cannot see the energetic signature of violence; they are all still there, the invisible hand waiting for your coin, the plant saying, okay, you want me, here is the cost.

Now, those nettles were free, kind of. I’m on retreat in Ireland. I paid money that I saved up for ten years to be here for three months in this cabin with electricity, a view of green trees, grass, brambles (replete with Fey Folk), clouds that move across the sky so fast that the words fickle and fey must originate here. This means the weather changes every ten minutes or so. It’s been sunny and glorious about ten times today, but it’s also poured rain, been fiendishly windy and amazingly quiet and calm. Anyway, back to the nettles, which I didn’t pay anyone for with cash.

The View when the sun isn't shining, which is most of the time, but I get to watch the clouds roll by and it's magnificent!
The View when the sun isn’t shining, which is most of the time, but I get to watch the clouds roll by and it’s magnificent!

Eating right, eating what is handy and nearby is a way of life for me. It’s not really optional at this point. I just gravitate towards what is local and at hand, like a magnet. This is, of course, with one very important exception; SPICES! I need them like a plant needs water and sun (see my previous post Hadi the Honeyed One and Lovely Lorena). In my defense, I think spices provide essential nutrients and vitamins, but that’s a stretch. They just make my life better and so besides spices, eating what is at hand or within my bio-region feels best.

Once I gathered the nettles, then I put them in a large bucket of cold water, stems and all, for their first soak. I wasn’t sure when they would stop stinging. I know they don’t sting once they are cooked, but it has been many years since I prepared them and I did so with either Aleta or Jolie Egert Elan of Go Wild Consulting, my herbalist and botanist beloveds, who made it look simple. Maybe they have some kind of agreement with the nettles and never get stung, but I think they actually also have mentioned getting stung. Now the sting of a nettle is a small thing, it’s like a tiny zing. It isn’t terrible, just piquant, sort of like something spicy! It does stay with you for a bit. It will remind you of its presence, the sting, every once in a while, like the feeling you get when your foot falls asleep, just every now and then a little zing.

So, after the first soak, I prepared another container of water. I picked up the nettles with a teaspoon strainer, you know the kind that clips open and shut and you put tea leaves in bulk inside of it. I am in this cabin, named after Clare of Assisi (for the Beloved Companion and Nun who was close with St. Francis of Assisi). In my lovely cabin, there are cooking utensils, but not like my kitchen at home. I couldn’t find any tong-like implements in my drawers, so I used the teaspoon grabbing one stem at a time out of the first bucket and holding it over the second. I then used the scissors with my right hand and clipped the individual leaves into the water for their second rinse. I wasn’t sure if the stems were edible.

I am without the internet in my cabin named after St. Clare. I am so grateful for this fact. I have lots of books here but didn’t think to bring my herb books, a mistake. I sent my Tanakh and my Tikkun and my library of beloved teachers on subjects Jewish and my Hebrew dictionaries and my prayer books. I forgot that I would be living in a wood, where the bible you need is a book about herbs and flowers.

Getting ready for Shabbat
Getting ready for Shabbat

There is a large library at the main house and I can borrow a book about herbs from there, but the morning when I decided to gather the nettles, I hadn’t yet realized I needed that information and so didn’t have the book on hand. So, I experimented with my nettles and I knew the leaves were good to eat, so clip, clip, and clip into the water they went. I did not get stung at all during this improvised tong/teaspoon scissors adventure.

In case you are wondering, which you probably aren’t, why I didn’t just use the gloves I used initially to harvest them with to do this part of the work? Well they were the ugly, dirty, really old gardening gloves that I found in the peat-fuel box and they are definitely OUTSIDE only kind of gloves. So, back to nettle land. Since I could not use the nasty gloves and I needed to cut up the nettles, or thought I did, before cooking them, I strained them by pouring the whole container of water out over the strainer I put in the sink. In this way, I never had to touch those tricky nettles.

Then, since I wasn’t sure if just washing them well would have made them less stingery (a new Nicole word), I put my hand in the pile of clean wet leaves to test their sting factor—now you know why my fingers are pulsing a little from the nettle-bites (kind of like tiny nips or bites from a lover). Oooh, that makes me miss my beloved!

My Bedroom Window with cards from my beloved and a view of brambles leading down to my small steady and musical stream (now that the brambles have been cleared enough for me to get there!)
My bedroom window with cards from my beloved and a view of some trees and brambles leading down to my small, steady and very musical stream (now that the brambles have been cleared enough for me to get there!)

So, having ascertained that a good rinsing and de-stemming does not in fact render nettles mute, I realized I’d need some kind of protection between self and nettles for cutting. What’s the best protection? A condom, or in the kitchen at a Catholic hermitage cabin named after St. Clare; something made of plastic, like a plastic bag. So, I put my hands in double plastic sacks, having clearly resolved that one batch of nettle-bites was quite enough for the day, double protection seemed prudent.

I then chopped up the nettles and put them in the pan with a little water, covered them and cooked them for five minutes. They were a deep dark green, luscious, delicious and no longer venomous. I tested them with my fingers first, before eating them, no sting whatsoever. I put a little olive oil, salt and lemon on them and enjoyed them with the rest of the meal I had prepared, which took one tenth the effort to make. I feasted on the local fare and then took a much deserved-nap. The morning of bramble wrestling (I’m slowly clearing a path down to the stream outside my bedroom window), nettle preparing and even some morning stretches in the field above my cabin when the sun was shining for ten minutes straight made for one tired jubilant me.

I’m now going to go paint and write some letters from my window seat here in Clare where I can see the weather, the fickle and fey, weather whooshing by without getting wet. Later, if it gets too cold, I’ll make a fire with PEAT, just as has been done here for thousands of years. The pictures I’ve put up here were from a different day, when it was Friday afternoon/early evening almost Shabbat. I put them here to give you all an idea of my surroundings. Binding myself to the sun and the weather, not to a clock and a schedule, has been and is tremendous for me. I feel old patterns breaking away and am bonding with this place, the movements of cloud, mist, sun, bird and rain. The flowers and the brambles and everything around me offering lessons and companionship. It is magnificent here!

Shabbat Sun in Window, not quite time to light candles, but very soon!
Shabbat Sun in Window, not quite time to light candles, but very soon!