Cleanse
[Taken at the Meiji-jingu Shrine in Tokyo, Japan, 2005.]
Before entering a temple in Japan, visitors stop by a chozuya, a small trough of water that serves to "cleanse and purify a person's hands and mouth so that they can give offerings and prayers with a clean body and mind." There are many such spots of repose all over Tokyo – places of worship and the smaller structures that surround them where visitors can cleanse, purify, leave prayers and walk in quiet meditation. As expansive and neon-crazy as Tokyo is, there are plenty of places to get lost in one's thoughts and take a moment to pour water over one's hands before entering a place of worship, to think about what it means to "cleanse one's mind".
This month has been a time filled with many beautiful moments mixed in with a few morsels of strange and scary, the unique combination of which has put me on a path where tears arise unexpectedly and disappear just as quickly. Yesterday afternoon one such moment occurred, and instead of resisting, I focused all my attention on the back of my eyeballs, in that layer of space where I could feel the tears rising, pushing their way forward to the corners of my eyes. It was strangely gratifying to soften that part of my body and give my tears as much room as possible to go where they needed to go. They stayed in that place of limbo, where, unless you looked closely, you wouldn't know I was on the verge of tears. It seems as though my tears were content to give my eyes just the barest hint of a gloss, and then they settled back down, waiting until we were in the middle of a crowded restaurant an hour or so later to spill forth quietly.
And right now, in this exact moment, I feel them again, coming up to the surface for the briefest instance, and now, at the end of this sentence, they are gone again.
This is how it has been.
Overall, I cannot say I am sad or despondent or fearful or anxious; I am simply moving through my days and trying to take whatever they have to offer me with grace and composure. I am trying to stay in a place of observation, of thinking about how difficult it is to describe that precise moment when tears arise instead of labeling my tears as a sign that something must be really wrong. Instead of looking at tears as a symbol of something negative – as reason to worry and fret (if I'm crying, something bad must be happening) – I can learn to appreciate their movement. In letting them rise up and spill forth, I experience a release, a cleansing, a washing away of the smog that has been hovering over my heart, my mind, my thoughts.
As 2009 winds down and I walk towards a new year, I am stepping up to my own symbolic chozuya. I will take a moment to cleanse my mind as much as possible, to think about what stories I want to continue to release and which ones I want to fortify. This time of year inspires people around the world to take stock, look behind and look ahead, to step up to their own interpretation of this trough of water for a brief instance and pour a ladle of water over their souls. My cleansing as of late looks to be connected to my tears, and if these tears are intended to help me enter a new year with even just a few cobwebs swept away, then I'll let them spill, and say a quiet thank you for every salty drop.
100 Books Project :: End of 2009 Wrap Up
[Book #35 :: Given to our sparkling waitress in Locust Grove, Georgia October 9, 2009]
I still don't have a perfect system for keeping track of all the books that have been sent out this fall and posting timely updates, so I am going to wrap up 2009 with a list of all the latest & greatest from the 100 Books Project and work on a better system for 2010 and the second half of this fun endeavor! Here's where we are:
For a quick peek at where books have been left (or where they are currently en route), the 100 Books Project Master List and Flickr Gallery are fully up-to-date!
The last time I checked in, I shared the story of Book #34, left by the divine Heather Plett. Book #35 went with me to Hilton Head, South Carolina for a family wedding, but I let go of it before we even got there. After flying from Los Angeles to Atlanta, my family and I had to take a five hour drive through Georgia to Hilton Head, and we stopped for a dinner of fried EVERYTHING in Locust Grove, Georgia on the way. Our waitress was absolutely lovely, encouraging us to live large and order that second piece of peanut butter pie. Before we left I ran to the car and pulled out Book #35, and headed to Hilton Head happily book-less.
[Book #36 :: The Algarve, Portugal, November 15, 2009]
The lovely Leonie Wise – world traveler extraordinaire – was given three books, and the first two have been placed. Book #36 was left in The Algarve, Portugal and Leonie chronicled her experience right here. A little snippet from this adventure:
"I wanted it to be by the sea, because I grew up by the ocean, at a beach with golden sands. My childhood memories of growing up with sand between my toes still makes me smile. The ocean is where I return to when my soul needs a refill. Christine’s book for me is similar – it’s like I get a top-up of sunshine and soul-full-ness each time I open it."
[Book #37 :: Copenhagen, Denmark December 11, 2009]
Leonie's husband took over Book Fairy duty for Book #37 in Copenhagen, Denmark in Tivoli Park. I love his story, and the photographs are dreamy. Read all about it right here; here's a snippet:
"Amusement parks are not something I’m particularly big on, especially when I’m on my own – they are much more fun in a group. But I had a walk around, intending to find somewhere to leave the book. It seemed like a nice place to leave it – lots of people, cool theme, nice place for a photo op etc, but I couldn’t find a suitable spot for it. There were basically too many people around, and no where I could find was, in my mind, suitable.
And that was the problem: “Nowhere suitable”. What the hell WAS “suitable” anyway?"
Next stop for Leonie and Book #38: Iceland!
[Book #43 :: Edinburgh, Scotland December 11, 2009]
Book Fairy Mary Gordon was sent Book #43, and she left it at the Black Medicine Cafe on South Bridge in Edinburgh, Scotland. Her story:
"I chose the cafe because it is in an area where a lot of students congregate. I can remember my time as a student being quite traumatic, worried, anxious trying to fit in be a success and thought it might fall into the hands of someone who really needed it there."
Mary used her Lomo camera to document the day, but, alas, her photos did not turn out, but she kindly sent me a link to a website with images from the cafe. It looks lovely, don't you think!
There are still a few books out and about that haven't been placed yet in Colorado, New Jersey, North Carolina, Ireland and Spain. 2010 will start with Book #45, and new deposits around Los Angeles!
Merry Merry
“Christmas waves a magic wand over this world, and behold, everything is softer and more beautiful.”
~ Norman Vincent Peale
Looking
Every year I go through this and every year I forget I've gone through it. Thanksgiving approaches, and I begin to look ahead to the holidays with giddy anticipation, starting my gift list and thinking about ideas for making the house sparkly. December begins and I hit the ground running – scouring Etsy for gifts, placing orders, getting our tree, wrapping gifts, packing boxes, making trips to the post office, writing Christmas cards. And then the day arrives when I'm suddenly fed up with all of it, missing my work, feeling like my time isn't mine, wishing I could take at least one day to turn the world off and be alone with my thoughts, a journal and a stack of books. As much as I've talked about dealing with the discomfort of so much stillness during the past few weeks, the stillness has only been with regard to my work. Beyond my work – in the world of laundry, errands, and gift wrapping – I've continued to be on the go. All the while trying to manage the emotional ups and downs of all the different stories playing out in our lives – stories within our family, with our health, with our friends and with each other. All overlapping and criss-crossing, challenging us in ways we likely need, frustrating us in ways we'd rather not be bothered with.
I haven't pushed myself to the edge of my reserves of energy and emotions; the good news is that although there has been much to attend to this month, I have been able to get through it all at a comfortable pace. Yes, there have been many presents to wrap but I have been able to give each of them time, attention and at least a little creative flair. The gift that this time has given me is presence – an ability to focus on what is in front of me rather than having to rush through it in order to tackle the next task. For that I am extremely grateful.
I even managed to listen to an hour-long Zencast lecture on Truthfulness while working on orders last week, and it gave me a number of lovely little morsels to chew on, particularly this one:
"Remember who you really are:
If the element of the truth seeker did not already exist within you, there would be no path, no discovery, no awakening of wisdom, no awakening of compassion.
But because the element of truth-seeker is within you, there is a part of you that already knows who you are and wants to awaken to this mystery. Because this is a part of you, it takes you on this journey of discovery."
~Jack Kornfield
This got me thinking about my own journey towards truthfulness, and all the layers of that experience. How I might be able to rationally recognize to truth of a situation, but it might take more months before I fully understand and embody that truth. I had an epiphany last week about one relationship in my life, wherein I recognized that our connection has evolved into one based entirely on an unspoken agreement to avoid, ignore and bury the truth. In that epiphany, I had to face the truth that I agreed to this, and this is such a new revelation that I don't yet know what to do with it. But rather than tackle it blindly, I am giving myself time and space to explore that truth, and see if I can find a somewhat peaceful way beyond it, towards a different dynamic, or perhaps the acceptance that this may be the best we can do.
When I look back at this year, I have many experiences and moments I can point to as "lessons learned", "wisdom gleaned", and one more layer in my quest for truthfulness unveiled. But the umbrella hanging above all of this has been an overriding desire to move through every story in my life as gently as possible, to practice more patience, stillness and compassion. To be willing to take a magnifying glass and search for whatever tidbit of truth that will enable me to stay soft and open-hearted. To be willing to respect what anyone in my life needs to do to take care of themselves, and also grant myself the same generosity. In that sense, this has been a year of great transformation, a shift that perhaps no one will even notice, but that I feel deep within my bones. A shift into acceptance of all that is, of putting into action the habits I talk of wanting to embody. A sinking in of the truth that there is no need to force anything – to shove a yes where a no might be enough, to squeeze a friendship into a space where neither of us feels comfortable. And to remember that amidst a field of endless possibilities, there will be, in the end, only one path that is mine, and that the more I trust it will unfold as it is supposed to, the brighter the light that will greet me when I pass through, beyond, and into the next realm.
Words
[Sands blowing in the wind at Whahariki Beach, New Zealand :: Taken last March]
The Wind of Saying
The words dance in the wind of saying.
They are leaves that crispen,
sere, turning to dust. As long
as that language runs its blood-
rich river through the tongues
of people, as long as grand
mothers weave the warp and woof
of old stories bright with new
words carpeting the air
into dreams, then the words
live like good bacteria
within our guts, feeding us.
We catch the letters and trap
them in books, pearlescent butterflies
pinned down. We fasten the letters
with nails to the white pages.
Most words dry finally to husks
even though dead languages
whisper, blown sand through
the dim corridors of library stacks.
Languages wither, languages
are arrested and die in prison,
stories are chopped off at the roots
like weeds, lullabies spill
on the floor and dry up.
Conquerors force their words
into the minds of their victims.
Our natural language is a scream.
Our natural language is a cry
rattling in the night. But tongues
are how we touch, how we reach,
how we teach, the spine of words.
~Marge Piercy
Five Things
This Week: So Proud of my Peeps!
1. Marianne Elliott has Exactly What You Need.
2. A new etsy shop from Doorways Traveler.
3. Get ready for the WishFull Virtual Art Retreat next spring. P.S. I'll be teaching!
4. Congratulations to Jennifer Lee on a dream come true.
5. Head to McCabe's etsy shop for lovely little stocking stuffers.
I Am Not Charlotte Tarantola
I Am Not Charlotte Tarantola from Christine Mason Miller on Vimeo.
Dear Elizabeth,
As per your request ("When are you going to do another videoooooo?"), I hereby offer you my latest attempt at a slightly uplifting, mildly interesting, somewhat humorous video diary entry. It is my sincere hope that this gives you at least a tiny giggle, and helps you understand that, as always, I am here to serve you.
With great love and respect,
Christine
P.S. After watching this video, you might be inspired to learn more about the woman whose name graces the title of this entry, Ms. Charlotte Tarantola. She can be found right here.
Fascinating
"Our ability to grow is directly proportional to an ability to entertain the uncomfortable." ~Twyla Tharp
As 2009 winds down and I get to enjoy a happy flurry of holiday activity – wrapping presents, shipping packages, decorating our tree and even making hand-knit garland – my thoughts have been occupied by a number of creative and entrepreneurial ideas. The businesswoman in me has ideas, as does the teacher, the artist, the writer, the networker, the leader and the follower. Part of me has visions of creating an inspiring empire of my own and another part of me dreams of existing in the background as a pillar of support for the empire of someone else I respect and believe in. I have ideas for websites and workshops, for stationery and books. Through this constant parade of brainstorms, I feel like a kid in Wonka's workshop, with so many choices and possibilities before me, all there for the taking should I simply make the commitment to dive in and do the work.
And then a new question came flooding into my brain yesterday like a wide stream of sunlight through the clouds after a storm: What if I simply continued to live the life I am living? What if
there is nothing for me to "fix", create, or dive into, at least
for a little while longer?
In that stream of sunlight, I was reminded once again of how deeply uncomfortable I am without a plan, a project or a goal. I like to think of myself as someone who Makes Things Happen, who Dreams Big and then gets to work. When I take the time to examine that desire, I wonder why I am so attached to this – this idea of being the one that will go the extra mile and make the extra effort. Because what it really amounts to most of the time is feeling like I'm not doing enough. That I need to keep doing more, no matter how much I've done, because if I dare to give myself a break, I will no longer be worthy of the waterfall of blessings that showers me every single day.
I enjoy working hard and creating beauty, but I also enjoy the idea of a certain persona – that of the Do-er, the Mover, the Shaker, the Go-Getter. That is how I want to be seen, and when I am brutally honest with myself I have to admit I am fearful of losing that part of my identity. So fearful that I worry I'll lose my Go-Getter status in the space of barely one month.
In a word: Fascinating.
I sit here smiling at the wonder of it all, at these funny little quirks and fears and things that motivate me into action, that compel me to do what I feel like I need to do in order to make my life meaningful.
Perhaps the deeper question is what it means to me to live a meaningful life, and when I look at that, all these silly worries of mine melt away. Because it's not about the Big Things, it is about right here, right now, with my house in holiday disarray and a fresh pot of coffee about to be poured. It is about sitting still in my discomfort with stillness, about trusting that my next goal, project or dream will unfold organically, in its own time, in its own unpredictable way.
Five Things :: The Twelve Days of Christmas #12
[Photo from Zen and the Art of Peacekeeping, #12 on today's list.]
Today's Theme: Giving Back
It deserves a bigger list, n'est pas? To bring things full circle, I'll go with Twelve Things today.
3. Network for Teaching Entrepreneurship to Youth
4. Girls, Inc.
5. Just Give
8. Working Proof: Creativity. Charity. Community.
10. Wrap Up Africa
11. Salaam Garage
12. Zen and the Art of Peacekeeping, for stories, insights and a variety of projects that need support.
Five Things :: The Twelve Days of Christmas #11
Today's Theme: MishMash
1. I need to take a journey to Pasadena, because Gold Bug looks like my kind of place.
2. Chromix creates custom color profiles for your favorite papers and printers.
3. Lots to explore at Durweigh.
4. Phootnotes Photography on Etsy.
5. I love Junot Diaz's story about Becoming a Writer.
