Tending our hearts

Unearthing stuck patterns from my heart feels like a salute to Mother Earth, letting her know I’m preparing for her loving marching orders to come so She can express through me.

In this process, the very practical things seems less effortful. The most dreadful of junk drawers gets organized. My primary relationship shimmers in readiness and a new excitement arises. The weighty projects get completed or tossed. The thrift store benefits. The busyness somehow feels restful.

And at the end of this waning moon cycle, things won’t be perfect. There will still be some cluttered drawers, annoyances, old attachments and sometimes saying “yes” when I mean “no”. I will stumble, but more and more, I smile when I trip over myself.

Like the soil in a garden, life doesn’t have to be sterile and orderly to flourish. It does require attention and care for maximum yield.

Just as a flower might push up through cracked concrete, that which is meant to grow within us, will. And, when we take time to tend to our deepest self, to till the fertile soil of our heart, life springs forth from us with more ease and grace.

May you turn inward to your abiding heart, and blossom outward in your unique brilliance.

Saying NO for an authentic “Yes”

“Snow moon” or “storm moon”, as it is known, seems a fitting name for February’s full moon. It ripened to fullness during the coldest February in 131 years, as recorded in Banff, near my Canmore, Alberta home.

As this cool companion waned, I found myself winter gardening. Not in the earth, but deep within my being.

My heart is both tender and teeming with potential for growth. But I hold back the planting of new ideas and somewhat impatiently abide the cycle of the moon, until it begin anew on March 6.

As the moon fades, now is the time to tend the soil; clear rocks and old roots of unspoken annoyances that impede growth in my primary relationship. It is time to complete projects left undone, tidy and organize home and business and call in support for opportunities that will roll in with the new moon.

It is hard work. And at times painful. It means letting go of old, trusted attachments, like throwing away pretty envelopes of seeds that have gone beyond their strength to germinate.

It means saying no. It means listening to my heart for an authentic “Yes” and opening to the vulnerability that comes with living my truth. It is not easy to put aside the excitement of new events at this time, and reather, step back to reflect and learn from the past.

Alongside all this, there is much joy. Somehow the tending is an acknowledgment of my heart’s deepest longings. It’s like saying to myself, “I really matter, I really do.”, all the while knowing it’s not the “I” in the sense that we normally think of ourselves.