October Goodies

The Goodies…

Jena writes a poem: reconciliation

this is a lot like hakomi: feeling good despite the weather

writing down the truth of acceptance and change: good animal and transition 

the owners of her new home have one her paintings on their wall: vigil

the moon in her mouth: room temperature

homeschooling and free play

 

Top referring sites

6512 and Growing
Growing children, chickens, bees and a large garden at 6512 feet

Wander Wonder Discover
the wonderfully beautiful blog of a woman finding her passion

Plot 55
My friend Debbie’s site — full of love, art, and thoughtfulness!

And more from Taking Time, Dreaming Aloud, and Mommy Mystic.

just a reminder… if you still have your blog links going to Mama-Om,
please change them to Sweet Sky… that way I will know it’s you!

 

Thank you!

You Can Ask Me How It Is

I have a friend who moved up north and started a commune. This was many years ago and she never calls it a commune — only “The Land.”

She recently told me that anyone could come there who wanted to live, and they let them come, and the person was asked to stay for one year. They participated in the community, and they were welcomed, but it was understood that it took a year to really know what it meant to live there. To have the experience necessary to choose to stay on.

It’s been one year, to the day, since we moved to cohousing.

I remember, even in the first weeks after moving, people would ask me, “How is it?!”

I always felt a little odd because I never replied, “Oh my god, it’s incredible!”

Instead I would say something like, “It’s really good — but I can’t really say how it is yet. We’re still so new there, I really don’t know how it is going to impact us. It feels good, we’re not concerned about anything, but I don’t really know… yet.”

Because how could I know in advance how it would be for us, for me?

Did I know that I would tap into a pool of my own anxiety, and come out the other side with more clarity?

Did I know what it would be like for my child to be playing outside on his own for the first time, essentially in the yard of twenty other households?

Did I know that there would be weekends where we had a community meal, chores, a community meeting, my committee meeting and Rom’s committee work — IN ADDITION to a family birthday party, a Hakomi class, Orlando’s golf class, etc.?

Did I know how much I would grieve for our old neighborhood — the one with the tree-lined streets, one-hundred-year-old houses, sweet and secret spots, the woods, a view of the lake, casual spaces to roam and be together as family?

Did I know how hard it would be, sometimes, to parent in community? And how nice?

Did I know that I would become part of a circle of people saying kaddish for a neighbor who passed away? Each night a prayer for the beauty of his life, the preciousness of this life, the holy commonality of death?

Did I know that the rhythms of the kids changing from one thing to the next — in the last month it’s gone from scooter-crashing to fort-building to four-square to indoor legos — would be a comfort to me? An affirmation of my place in the cycle of life, of my kids’ occupation on this ever-rotating earth?

Did I know what it would be like to participate in meetings with such kind and skilled people, each bravely speaking to their own experiences in a way that makes space for more — more of themselves, more of each other, more of life itself?

Did I realize that moving here was just another experience of creating ever-widening circles of relationship? First in my body with a new baby, then in my family, then in the Hakomi community, and now, here: we’ve plopped our home right in the midst of it all.

Did I know that I would grow, and that I would be challenged? ……….. yes

Did I know all the ways? ……….. no

And do I know all the ways to come? ……….. no

Am I choosing to stay on? ………….

Yes.

 


Hakomi Level II

Fern Fiddlehead

I went to Hawaii for my fortieth birthday. I wanted to be somewhere beautiful, and warm, with my family, but able to be on my own part of the time, too. I was seeing beach. I was seeing myself meditating.

I found it all — we went to Hawaii and I spent time on the beach, my sandy kids crawling all over me, and I drove into the lush mountains and spent the day with two dear dharma teachers, sitting, walking, eating, listening. Looking to the far sea below.

That was the trip when I realized that I wanted to be a Hakomi therapist. I just knew it — I don’t remember what prefaced it, what ruminations or events precipitated that exact moment of decision. I just remember sitting on the big floral bedspread in the one bedroom in our little condo while the idea shot through me.

I want to be a Hakomi therapist.

I immediately went into some sort of super student mode and began Googling like mad. What universities could I attend? What programs did they have? What was required by Washington state in order to practice? I actually sat in a room in Hawaii and called universities in Seattle to ask about their programs. I came home. I received packets. I filled things out. I went to orientations.

And then I remembered that I wanted to be a Hakomi therapist.

I am sure that my therapist had mentioned the Personhood Series to me before, but that information came crashing back into my consciousness, and I thought, “Okay, I will start taking Hakomi workshops in the fall.” I had been a client of hers for about two years — experiencing how Hakomi worked, intuiting it — but I hadn’t wanted to look behind the scenes. Yet.

But then I did. So, I planned to take the classes in the fall and then maybe start school and pursue my licensed mental health counseling (LMHC) degree but how would I do both? And what about the kids? And homeschooling? And money? And?

And then I remembered that I wanted to be a Hakomi therapist.

So I started taking the Personhood workshops in March 2010. One month after my birthday. And I visited schools, and I filled out forms, and I kept taking the Personhood workshops, and eventually I realized that what I would do right now would be Hakomi. And that I would know when the time came whether I wanted to also become a LMHC.

{I don’t need a LMHC degree to legally practice as a Hakomi therapist so pursuing it would be a question of my own interest and whatever vision of my practice I have.}

It was very Hakomi of me, I realize now, to choose something simple, to follow the original spark, what was most alive, and to trust where it might lead and that the next steps would become clear in time.

I finished the Personhood series one year, almost to the day, after my fortieth birthday.

Along with the Personhood series, I took Deepening Skills workshops — two days in which graduates of Level II, along with practicing Hakomi therapists, are able to do sessions with volunteer clients in the presence of a coach. Four sessions a day, two days in a row. That’s a lot of Hakomi.

Osmosis.

I also joined two practice groups this summer.

I had became part of a community — our teachers, teachers-in-training, therapists, therapists-in-training, clients. People practicing.

And I cajoled and reminded and asked, “Will there be Level II offered this year?” {It has historically not been offered every year.}

And there was. There was a Level II.

There is.

I am in it.

Level II is five four-day modules over the course of nine months, plus twice-monthly practice groups. Plus lots of reading.

Our first module was last month. Finally, the day it seems like I’ve been waiting for… planning for… the day that led me to it, that I pursued. No grand plan but a limitless longing.

I want Hakomi. I want Hakomi in my life, and I may become a Hakomi therapist. Sometimes I think I’m going to work with new mothers, new families, as a doula or in group settings. I may or may not have a private practice.

And in the meantime, I already have a practice: my life.

I remember a day not so long ago I could not even imagine being in the therapist role. Not at all. I was in awe of people who did it, of how it was such a beautiful process, of how magic seemed to happen. I could not see me in the flow of that magic at all.

And I realized, just the other day, that I can see it now. Just an inkling… I will be able to give to people. I will be able to be with people, completely and fully. That I myself am the magic of healing and humanity.

I am becoming a Hakomi therapist. Right now, right here. From the inside out.

 

*  *  *

Clearing
by Morgan Farley

I am clearing a space
here, where the trees stand back
I am making a circle so open
the moon will fall in love
and stroke these grasses with her silver
I am setting stones in the four directions
stones that have called my name
from mountaintops and river beds,
canyons and mesas
Here I will stand with my hands empty
mind empty under the moon
And if something
takes my life, if a sudden wind
sweeps through me, changing everything
I will not resist
I am ready for whatever comes
But I think it will be
something small, an animal
padding out from the shadows
on delicate paws, or a word
spoken so softly I hear it inside
There is a way to live
that makes the angels cry out in rapture.
There is
a way to live that makes each cell a star.
Come stand with me here, it is
cold, I know, and silent,
nothing is happening
the next breath, and the next,
is the new life

 

 

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