Tag Archives: New

Planting a New Garden

It is 12:10 AM and I arose from my bed with a flash of insight. I was waiting until July 1 come hell or high water. Trying to do things “right”. But the flow is coming, and I kind of knew this would happen.

 

Beginning at the end.  We are digging up an old garden that lay in waste (in my sight), 20 years in the making. I had my hand in 10 of them, and did not do my best with a garden hoe or dandelion picker. Now we are among giant thorned bushes that have hidden my path.  I can’t see anything I planted along the way. Only the red poppies, defiant, bloomed and then lay their heads. Same with the peonies – it took two years for them to squeeze their tiny eyes open, then hang down and begin to wilt. Relieved, I realized it was time.

 

 

Here is what happened:  I had a dream of a wildflower garden. It came out of my admission that I could never be a gardener.  Not a traditional one. Manicured lawns were not my forte nor desire.  Yet I was embarrassed at the state they were in.  My garden arose out of a previous garden that was perfectly arranged by a previous owner, someone who had all the things I had not: passion, ability and patience.  I knew I was in trouble when I looked at the rubble after our construction job lay that perfect garden to waste. Underneath it, the rose bushes persevered. So did the day lilies, of course, and the gorgeous clematis that climbed its towery fountain in the middle.

10 Years rolled by of me doing my best in April and May.  I would do minimal weeding, dig up some dirt and go get new soil and lay it on top of it.  Hoping it would take. Then I would buy some mulch and expensive wood chips and lay a pretty path.  Some of the things stayed. Others died along the way.  Tiny creepers crept in, like mint and cloves, then dandelions, and finally grass and wheat.

My garden dream became a nightmare. And yet, it still pulls at my heartstrings…

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What does this mean?

Was I foolish to believe I could have a wildflower garden without doing any weeding? Was I foolish to take on somebody else’s dream?  What was the solution? Keep trying? Keep denying?

So, this past week, as we prepare for a new pool to go in, and lay a track for the trucks to come in – I had to move my garden. MY GARDEN!  the Heart garden had become me. And it was beautiful for a time. But a tiny guilt always followed me:  this is not mine.  Or is it?

 

Today we did what every sane person who knew anything about gardens had told me to do We took every good thing out of that old garden and put it in a pot. We dug all around them and plucked them right out.  And when those big trucks come, the rest will be turned over, flattened and reshaped.  Old weeds will be moved away.  New soil will be laid in its place. Maybe new grass.  Or maybe a newer, smaller, garden of mine.

Will I try again? 

We’ll see. I have a lovely clematis root, my first successful blush peonies, one pot of cloves, a lovely rose, and some other coloured things.  I will water them all I can. I will even pray once or twice.  But in my vision, as I now lay awake at night – something NEW will arise.  Not that old garden of the past.  Not some old sight.

I have finally let go.  Have I?

What else was in that garden?  Memories old and new.  People that once played a part who are now gone.  Fears and insecurities. Dreams and visions of what my life should be.  Old prayers said on the old stone steps that got buried.  Babies birthed while looking at the irises purple unfolding in summer.  Dogs running and leaping and peeing indiscriminately against the rocks. The shape of a heart that I thought I was.

 

What have I lost? 

Like my garden, my life has changed significantly. Old paths have grown over.  Old lives changed or forgotten.  Relationships let go of or grown in a new direction, love and children hung on to.  The rest? Well -

How can I plant a new garden?  What will it be?  What will I be?

I plant a new garden. I begin with the shape of nothing. This time I will not inherit it, nor feel guilty if it fails. I will accept my fate.  I will plant a new garden based on current delights, something I can manage, something that is honest and truthful. And I will make sure I don’t put anything into this garden that I don’t love or intend to care for. I will do my best.

  Until then – I wait.

Krista with her peonies

Learning How, and other Hat Tricks

Tonight my daughter was teaching me magic tricks, whilst she was making them up on the fly. Some she knew well and was proud of herself; others, she stopped and hung her head low. “I forget” she said, or “What was I doing that for?….” I knew what she was struggling with: self-confidence in learning something new.  She was so eager to present it all to me “perfectly” (and I did laugh and clap as a good audience would), but she knew she wasn’t there yet. There’s no faking that.

I feel the same way in my journey. I am just learning how to do things I never knew. I thought I knew because I’ve watched others do it. Or pretended to. I’ve read books about it. But when I stand up there, or speak, or sing, or whatever that “thing” is, I pause. Sometimes I will pause mid-sentence, or stop altogether. No, I didn’t want to say it like that. Can we try that again??

Right now I am learning to do video (for my website). I’m used to having a set around me, and others to do all the handiwork. Even when we were doing short films, others had the technical jobs. I just stood where I was told, and said my lines (that part was my responsibility and I delivered them well, I believe).  My job was to  “get out of the way”, and let them do their job. Find a quiet corner to prepare myself and let the rest take care of itself.  Not anymore!

I did my first technical setup the other day. I was quite proud of myself! It wasn’t perfect, I’ll tell you. But I was quite amazed what I could do by myself. I guess I have learned a few things! But the true test comes when I learn how to use it. What I will use it for.  Saying what really matters to me, that I want to share. That is the nail biter! Once it’s there, there’s no turning back. It’s time to go “on”.

Why do I want to try something new at this time? Why not just excel at what I’m already good at? Why not just keep doing commercials, or letting the “other guys” dictate what is going to happen to me instead? Isn’t it easier just to sit on the sidelines and hold my breath?

NO!

I’ve never been one to sit down on a challenge. In school I was the same. Always the overachiever. I couldn’t just sit back and slack off.  I had to know everything I could about what I was doing, and then I had to give it my all. And I did. A little too much, I think! But that pride in doing my best and outshining myself is something I’m used to. I”m not so good at being a beginner.

I know other women who tremble at the thought, when someone suggests that their natural talent at something might blossom into a business. “Who me?” or “Oh, that little thing?”  Such modesty hiding under the covers. I just want to rip them covers off! Pardon the image, folks. But it’s true. There is so much talent just waiting to be unveiled. But you have to say yes, I want to. I’m willing to. I’m going to take the next step.

If other folks believe in you, why can’t you? What is so hard about learning something new? Half the time, we’re already half way there – we’ve already got the talent, some skill, knowledge, will. What else do we need? Just courage. And a little time to sow our seeds.

Get sowing folks! Our field needs rowing. It’s hard work this planting and hoeing.  But oh! What a surprise, when that rich soil produces that tiny sight. We just want to peel over with delight, reach down in wonder at what our hands put asunder, that field of green has blossomed from YOU!

As my daughter walked away tonight, after doing about eight million hat tricks, I told her, “Don’t give up!  Remember, you did all that by yourself, but there are lots more tricks you can learn. You’ll get there! It takes a lot of learning!”  She seemed to take that in, at least I hope she did.

I hope I did, too!

P.S. Tomorrow I will give this video thing a whirl, and see where it goes. Forgive me my mistakes (I don’t have a blueprint), I’m just learning. But I bet it will be great, once I get the trick.  And I will, too!  And so can YOU!

P.P.S.What’s your latest hat trick?  What are you still struggling to get the hang of?  Have you started yet? I’d love to hear  about it below.  :)

Stewing Stupalicious Soup!

I am sitting tonight in a candlelit room my son left behind him as he moved downstairs. It was a coming of age moment long overdue that I resisted, but  now I wonder why I waited so long! Here I am, sitting at this room he lived in as a small boy, staring up at me from the lower bunk bed, afraid of the dark, or upset by bullies, or nervous about a new school, dreaming and talking and asking all kinds of questions.  Now he is grown, answering them for himself and feeling quite proud of his new life and new high school. And I am so proud of him.

But I am proud of me too. Because instead of being sad or feeling at a loss, I have gained too. He told me to go ahead and use his old room to create a nook for myself, put in my own desk, decorate the walls, christen it the new “creativity room”.  And so, here I sit talking to you in the new room as if no time has passed, except it is the future now and I am as open and new as he.

Aaaaah….. Love is sweet. And freedom too. Although four walls still surround me, they are different, and I am too. I love this new me, creating possibility, and enjoying the newness of all the friends I meet, all the plans we create. It is so, so sweet.

Mmmmm…….

3. The Death of the Ego

Inner Light

When we talk about death we often talk about the physical body. But that has been the least of my experience. Yes, I have been through death: death of a mother/father figure, death of an aunt, death of nearly all my grandparents, two dogs and a cat, not to mention the young ones on the periphery, those who I didn’t know well, but touched me still. And those in war-torn countries whom I’ve never met. I feel them all.  But death is not just that.

Death is of the ego*

In my understanding, the ego identifies with the body to separate itself and create a separate identity. It can be special, definitive and alone.  The ego is that part of ourselves that is not aligned with life. With communion. It is the part that sides only with death.

But what if death was something simpler? What if death could be embraced, not as the death of the physical body, but as the ending of a cycle? Or the end of suffering?

Like I discussed on the radio show with Cezarina Trone, death is a daily thing; a constant dance of change.

What if death could be a temporary passage to the beginning of a Life magical?

In my recent talks with women, I have learned the common story of how death wraps itself around us when change is on the horizon. We hide into our selves and think something is wrong with us, that we cannot survive, or that we are alone…

   …but death is nothing, if not a harbinger of change.

The larger part of us, that knows life, that embraces change, whether you call it God, Your Higher Self, or the Miracle, is what pulls us through to that other side of Life. Not just the “light at the end of the tunnel”, the consolatory image so often attributed to the “after-life”, but to the light of Life that exists always within us, right here and now.

Change is difficult, and surrender of the ego is harder. The ego wants us to cling to our old ways, to other people’s visions of us, to the bonds that tie us tightly to one another, to our old identities, and to conflicts  between disparate personalities/groups/countries.

But I have seen another light within me, within all of us, that holds us in balance at the worst possible pronouncement of death calling for us to crumble. No! we say from somewhere inside. NO! I will not pass away, not unto death, but to Life! To Freedom! To the Strength I didn’t know I had.

This death is harder – more contemporary. It is the death of what you once were, your illusions about your self. About what life is for.  And when you let go of that, you do not have death, you have something unchanging and new. A vision that swells and drips with purpose, that comforts you. It grows even as you rest. Even as the rain drips down from the balcony and the heavy curtains seem to close…

I champion those who are willing to go through this curtain;  who have the courage to cling, not to the ego’s grip, but to a new hand, a new day;  who have the courage to peek through the curtain to see the light shining back at them, the happy faces in the front row waiting for them, for You, to Rise.

This is your day. Become the ultimate Scene-Stealer. Bow only to Life.

*based on a study of A Course in Miracles.

Morning Calls

I just felt like writing to you this morning! What a gorgeous Monday morning (I can hardly believe I said that). But it is. My dog just found his way downstairs after a lazy nap, and is now staring at his plaything, and sniffing a shoe. Just getting ready to move from sleep into action. Like me. It’s 8 0′clock, and “All’s Quiet on the Moore Front”. There is no enemy hovering over the hill, only the sun rising up over trees dancing in the breeze. So lovely!

What are you doing this morning?

I swear I just saw a monk passing the entrance to my driveway, or a woman brightly dressed in brilliant orange robes, sandals on her slow-moving feet.  This vision reminded me of travel, of worlds beyond this one. Where I see, smell and hear everything new…

morning walk

I will be going to California soon, for the first time, with my husband. Though I cheat, I have been there before, if only for a moment: getting out of the car (coming down from Nevada) into the Mojave Desert, five months pregnant, standing in the hot and silent sun, a cave of inner listening. I picked up  a rock there, a black lavic looking rock which was warm in my hands. I could only hear my breathing, and the hot air just hanging there and the sound of my feet in the sand. It was as if my own heart was beating the world into existence. I kept that rock as a talisman.

I am looking forward to rediscovering California from the eastern coastal ride up Highway 1…  San Diego….  Santa Monica…. LA (briefly, but must see the basics!)…. Carmel… maybe a mission or two… and then San Fransisco where I will meet my lovely ladie(s) that I have been talking to for over a year. I can’t wait to meet you (you know who you are).

My inner world is changing too. I no longer feel worried all the time as I used to. I feel an inner calm, of being in charge of my own destiny. And Grace too.  It’s magic, and it makes me giggle at times! (A wicked kind of giggle, my husband says).

Ah…. what can I share with you?  That is what I think now.  What can I be today that I haven’t been or done before. What is new. I feel that call now, pulling me to something greater, that beautiful, magical feeling that life is better than OK. It is not to be resisted or lamented. It is to be taken in, held and created like a warm ball of life, like that hot lavic rock melting in my hands.

Everything succumbs eventually to the sound of silence, to the sound of the primordial Yes.

I hear my call. I more than accept.

What is calling to you?

Day 16: How Far is the Sky?

I don’t know... that’s what’s so exciting about it. I don’t know where the Eagle flies, or how high or how far. I just know, I want to go there.  My husband asked me tonight to write based on a topic he set: pushing the limits and beyond.  At first it sounded like a marathon run, breaking a sweat and practically dying before the finish line. But now it strikes me as so much sweeter than that…

What is my quest? How far can I stretch myself?  When I started this blog it was for me. My life. My revelations. My miracles. Just get writing! Now, I’m kind of intrigued by how this affecting your life, your revelations, your miracles!  I also want to lead, set an example. Because to be honest, if I don’t really go there, how can I invite you?

I want to follow the Eagle’s flight because it is so empowering, majestic, mysterious, wild. And so controlled. That bird knows where its going, even if I do not. And like that bird, I am setting my sights very high and very wide.  I’m not basing them on external expectations, but on internal signposts. Am I happy or not?  Does this feel exciting and new? Does it scare me a little?  That register is so much kinder.

Even as I sleep, I fly.

I want to go further, farther, deeper. I want to go way beyond where I’ve been before. That means doing things I’m scared of,  that previously I only dreamed about, or talked sheepishly about. Enough of that!  It’s time to begin. It’s time to get on with it!

So what’s on our trip list? Where is my compass set?  I don’t think there is a registry for that. I don’t know if North or South will suffice… Hmm. Maybe I’m not an Eagle at all.

Can an Eagle do loop-de-loops?

Do you want to know what really turns me on? Not just adventuring in the wide open air, free of  past expectations, but also not going it alone. I LOVE the companionship of kindred spirits to guide me, side with me, follow my tailwinds; all of us breaking through in ways we couldn’t do alone. Stamping out all that disabling nothing-space we were captives of for so long.  So Long!

Where do we end up? Florida? The moon? Or some heart-plane space we’ve never felt before… Maybe we are entering another dimension; Or maybe we are creating a new world.

Come, my friends, Come!

Day 6: New

There are some things I am still afraid of. Some people think being an actress makes me immune – instant courage. Not so. I admit I have a larger heaping teaspoonful of it, but sometimes I am not who I say I am. I’m…  shy.

When I was born my mother said I was a big crier – not for no reason – for the most part I was a very happy baby, and I have the ‘toothless grin’ photos to prove it.  (Hmm.. I’ll have to dig them up.)  I loved to eat anything my mother put in front of me, and once my mom and Aunt Jane took turns shoving teaspoonfuls of jam into my mouth (yum!), between which I would cry bloody murder if they were just a little too slow. I was, and still am, voraciously in love with life. This is fairly new. Although I started out that way, life got in the way. Moving. Loss. Failure, disappointment.  It’s called the 20s. My 30s were all about change. Huge transformative never-looking-back change. Phenomenal. And now that I’ve just entered my 40s, I’m on a new path – again.  Instead of the baby crying out for another huge heaping teaspoonful, I sometimes hold back. I wait. I wonder. I question. I ponder.

Where does this hesitance for life come from? Fear. Lack of experience – and too much experience.

This past week we were introduced to our new neighbours. For the past 12 years we’ve been hanging with our ‘old neighbours’, who had really become family. I was sad to see them go (even though they’re only 12 minutes away).  I also knew that change was good – for them and for us. They needed to grow as much as we did.  We still visit them in their new digs, and they are just like newlyweds fighting over paint chips (after 45 years of marriage).

For us, we are like new as well. Our ‘new neighbours’ are younger and have a baby. That old house where our old neighbours used to sing and burn sticks outside and host boxing day parties is slowly changing into a new time, a new shape.  Funny how perspective changes everything.

My shyness came in introducing myself, wanting to hang back and “give them some space”. I did that for about 3 weeks – well, almost 2 months.  Once we emerged from our dwelling places into the sun of our first summer day we noticed each other out back, waved hands, joked about the leaves and the pile-ups, everything home-owners lack.  The husband popped his head over the fence finally and asked, “Is it too early to ask Steve to have a beer?”  I laughed and said, “No, he’s about ready” as my husband came climbing down a ladder with eaves-trough goo in his hands.

men on a break

That night the young couple came over with their baby and his mother. We sat on our deck and had a few. Talked and talked, laughed and shared stories. It was grand. I felt so lucky to be there with these new people, welcoming them in, and them too. I felt just as new as they did. It opened up a new era in our lives, a new possibility for sharing, for being a couple who can go out for dinner and leave the kids behind (we’re lucky, ours are 8 and 14).  And of course, for our kids, babysitting. New days open up, sparkle and give new life, new energy, changes, comings and goings.

And – Ooh – Food!  Lots and lots of food. My inner child was very, very happy. We feasted that night, broke bread together, shared the wine and the beer, and sat over an open fire.

This is a life worth talking about. Worth sharing. Always and forever, New.

P.S. I have such great pictures to share – I’ll hunt them down and insert them later. Love.