Grateful for X?

Sometimes, that is the question. It's not about being an ungrateful person, just that sometimes things don't seem sweet.

I'm grateful for X today. Not certain what it is, but I'm sure there's something. If I name it I might jinx it, so I won't say it. I won't name that elusive X that I am grateful for.

What's so important about being grateful, anyway? I'm not planning on going down the privilege rabbit hole right now. I'm talking about a more profound reason to be thankful. What does that feeling do to our souls? What does it do to our bodies? Our minds?

Is it even a good thing to be grateful? What am I doing when I'm "being grateful"? I'm feeling a feeling of .... of what? contentment? No, not really.

Am I feeling happy that I have something that someone else doesn't have? Am I comparing myself to someone else?

How else would I know that I was grateful? Am I saying thank you for having something? Who or what am I thanking?

I am grateful to be alive. I'm grateful for my health. I'm grateful for having five kids and a husband. I'm grateful for the love I feel around me.

Why though? What makes me grateful? Is it all just a big ole hoax?

So ... what do y'all think?

Run, lady, run

Well, I ran my ten k (68 minutes, I'll tell you why in a minute). I was signed up for a half marathon but my heel was hurting and I was afraid of the dreaded Plantar's fasciitis, and the Running Room wouldn't let me push it forward so I downgraded to a ten. It was fun but, as always with running, I learned some things along the way that I would like to share with y'all.

These tips are all interconnected, and if you follow them you will have a better time and make a better time too!

1. Get to your place destination an hour early! I arrived at the race area (no public transit, it was in a beautiful spot in the country), had to park in a distant parking lot, took the race bus but I ended up at the start line four minutes late (with a bunch of other runners).
If I had gotten there early, I would have had time to figure out where I was going, check in to the washroom (see next point), and get to the starting gate early.

2. Pee before you run! Gotta do it, even if you don't think you need to. Get in there and pee! Especially those of us with the female anatomy, it takes longer to pee at the side of the track, and its not always seemly to dribble as you run.

3. Figure out what's going on!!! If you're in your home town, or even your home country, you will probably be able to read the directions or at least understand what the MC is saying (btw, just a shoutout to my favourite Canadian mc Mark Stein). But what if you're somewhere you can't understand the mc? What if you go to Rome in the spring? (Check it out!)
All the more reason to GET THERE EARLY!! You need to know where everything is so you don't have to try to understand what is being yelled in a foreign language through a loudspeaker.

4. Wear a running watch or your smart phone so you can log your distance. Smaller races don't show you the kilometers, and of course its nice to know, even if you don't have your eye on your pace.

So why did I clock in at 68 minutes? I got to the starting gate, but I was with a large crowd of runners from the bus. Everyone was jolly, walking fast, and the mc was yelling loudly in French. All good. I was also walking fast because I wanted to get to the REAL starting gate. Then we passed a small red sign that said "1K". Shit! I started my TomTom watch and started sprinting, so basically ... my pace for nine of the ten was ok but for one of the ten it was snail slow. Also, yes, because of my late arrival I did have to make use of the Portapotty at k 5 ... so ... live and learn.

Looking forward to getting faster and stronger.

Runner's Blues

This is where I want to be!

But for now, I'm limping around the house in my old running shoes with a sore heel, a sore neck, and a sometimes pain in my hip.

What the hell happened?

Well, the first thing that happened was I started running minimalist. Three years ago I got my first pair, a pair of Merrells that were amazing! I have always worn flats, flip flops, and I have super strong feet...
Then I got my first pair of Vibrams. The first run I went on wearing them, I literally ran the fastest I had ever run! I love these shoes! But, like anything you love, I overindulged. I ran many, many kilometres with them and I ran down the heel... and hurt my bod.

And, all you social justice warriors out there, you say, why do we care about what shoes you run in? Granted. I remember how guilty I used to feel while the South Africans were fighting for justice and I was going to university, drinking, and having a good old time. It tore me apart. I remembered when I was in Africa and someone brought me her baby, the little one was dying. There was nothing I could do... 

But when I look at the running movement around the world - man, we are just out there running, in shoes, without shoes: men, women, girls, boys, wombin, people that identify as whatever they damn well please so long as it includes "runner" somewhere in the title. Titles mean so much to us though, don't they? I don't call myself a midwife, or do I? Do I do midwife stuff? Is it a duck or a zebra?

A duck LOOKS like a duck. A Zebra LOOKS like a zebra. A runner LOOKS like anyone. 

So, I was supposed to be running a half marathon on Sunday but I can't do it because I don't want to hurt myself any more. So I'm just doing a ten k and really looking forward to the challenge! 

I ran the other day in my new shoes, Sayonara Wave, it was great! No pain, just a little tired after five k, a little out of shape. I spent my run trying to empty my mind, had a sore neck as well from tension, because of some awful witch hunt thingy I heard about, also worrying about the inaccessibility of decent midwifery care and midwifery education for people who can't afford it.

But I ran anyway. Then I ran yesterday, lovely to be back out there, I ran through a leafy suburb behind our house, trying to keep my pace under six but I didn't, I kept it under 6 and a half though.

The thing about running is, you're competing against yourself, even if you're in a race, you just want to run faster and better than you've ever run before. You empty your mind: you don't worry about your kids, or why you ever left the farm, or how the people in the birth community are treating each other so badly, or why the good people die young. You just run.

It's kind of like life that way. You just keep doing it, and trying to do it better and better and better and better, and it feels so good to keep on keeping on!
So, wish me luck! And wish y'all luck and - hey, give it a try! You might like it!

W is for Why

As we move through this world on our way to who knows where, many of us try to do good. But we can never know whether what we do makes a difference or not, so what to do?

I just spent time at a conference about all things birth and beyond. I presented on several different topics, and met some lovely people there. I stayed in a room with the powerful Beth Murch, BirthKeeper and poet extraordinaire. We compared poems and had a laugh.

I met someone who was raised by her father, another one who has been drawn to herbs her whole life. One person who almost died giving birth to her child who stayed on the other side, dead in birth.

I met someone who is scared to tell people about her joyous and deeply satisfying birth because she has heard that people with unpleasant birth experiences will feel badly.

I spoke to someone I have admired for fifty years who has suffered loss and difficulties and still provides encouragement and belly laughs for others.

I met someone who I thought was a bitch and then she told me her story. She isn't a bitch. 

Someone else told me about her concussion and how she is moving forward with her life.

I met old friends and sat in their Sukkah and we told stories and made fun.

The tapestry is being woven, our lives continue or not, there's really only one way forward and that is through.

Through love, no fear.

V for Victory!

I got lazy with my gratefulness alphabet.

But I am super thank full that V stands for Victory, and now I want to talk a little bit about victory:

Victory means winning against yourself. It means means overcoming obstacles. It means admitting you're wrong. It means staying up all night with a birthing mother even though you're tired. It means getting up in the morning and going for a run even though you don't want to. It means feeling good about yourself when you know you could have done better.

It means being content with your bumpy old body, even when you feel like you're still 23. It means taking risks and laughing through them. It means holding out a hand for someone you think you don't like. It means doing what you believe in, even if its dangerous and difficult.

It means keeping your damn mouth shut sometimes. It means speaking up for what you believe. It means moving forward. It means sitting on your hands and not doing anything. It means being true to who you are.

It means having babies, any old way, or not having them, raising your children or not, living with someone your whole life or not, being alone, being an enemy, being a friend. Being a sister, or a brother, being a mother.

Hasta la vittoria siempre

Herbs and Beyond!

I’m super excited to be returning to the Birth and Beyond Conference this year. It was a lot of fun the first two years and I’m sure 2016 is going to be the best! Lots of interesting speakers lined up, and I hope I can catch a couple of them in between presenting my own.

I’ll be speaking about my work with refugees, which has been an ongoing learning process for me for the past 12 years. I will be letting people know about the joys, challenges, practicalities of creating and maintaining a volunteer doula project.

I will also be speaking about a topic that is a little difficult to talk about, but something that people are thinking about and trying to articulate and theorize about: how and why we break each others hearts in the birthing community, and in the bigger picture caring community. I hope we can shed some light on this topic and create some ways to move forward with love, tolerance and honesty.

And, very close to my heart this summer as I am completely immersed in nature, is the topic of medicinal herbs. I will be presenting ten of my favourite herbs for use during the childbearing year. I’ve been collecting some of them during my walks through the trails and pathways close to my mountain home, and I will be bringing them back to provide to my clients and customers at the cafe.

I’m not going to introduce them here, but I want to give you a preview of the amazing herbs I’ve been accompanied by this summer. I have noticed that wild plants follow a pattern of color that is complex and speaks to the heart. Throughout the flowering season, there seems to be a color that blooms for a few days, then that color fades and another color takes its place, and so on through the season or the year. I happened to take a walk the other day and I was so happy to see that purple was the color of the day! It was just after the half moon, in the sign of Leo, but I don’t know why these colors change … I think Steiner and the Theosophists have tried to understand the color cycles.

Here are the purple/mauve flowers I met the other day. I am describing their medicinal properties, some of which have been studied scientifically and some have folk reputations. Please: never suggest a medicinal herb to someone else without knowing the plant, and the person, very well. Experiment on yourself first, but always be absolutely sure you have identified the plant correctly. Mistakes can literally be fatal.

Prunella vulgaris is known as Self-Heal. The leaves are cooling and diuretic. It is a small, unassuming plant that you can find in lawns and meadows everywhere. The purple flowers attract bees. 

Purple Loosestrife is a plant that is known for being an invasive species in swamps and fields everywhere in North American and Europe. It turns the landscape purple in some areas, and the plant itself is not very attractive. But its flowers are rich purple, and although I always knew it as a colourful invader, I didn’t know that it has astringent properties. The whole plant can be used for internal or external bleeding.

Hemp Agrimony is a lovely plant that grows tall and attracts bees and butterflies by the hundreds. I always described it as a plant with no medicinal qualities but then I learned that it is part of the Eupatorium family. These plants are known for their affinity to the kidneys and bladder, and can dissolve kidney stones and treat infections.

Arctium lappa is well known to most herbalists as burdock. This is a very powerful medicinal herb that can be used for several ailments, inside the body and externally. Each part of the plant is used, from the root to the flowering tops.

This lovely flower is from a blackberry bush:

 The root and leaf of these plants (the Rubus family) can be used as astringents to cure diarrhea or excessive menstrual bleeding. The fruit is a sweet, soothing cure for sadness, vitamin C deficiency or sore throat.

I often go for long walks or runs and although most plants in my neighbourhood are good friends, this little purple flower was unknown to me until I think I identified it the other day as Wild Bergamot or Purple Bee Balm. The leaves of this plant (if identified correctly!) can be used as a remedy for worms.

Ah, lavender! Lavandula comes in several sizes, colors and temperament. Mine is a mountain lavender that lasts forever and smells divine. The dried plants keep their scent for years, literally, and soothe headaches, keep away bad dreams, provide scent for clothing and linen, can be used to fill rice socks, and can be used in food and teas.

Finally, these hollyhocks were given to me by my aunt in 1991 when I visited her heavily pregnant with my 4^thson. I planted them on my farm and now I have them growing in my mountain hideaway. They seed themselves and cross-pollinate amongst each other to produce different colors each year. Alcea rosea roots and leaves can be used as other mallows, as a demulcent and a soothing herb for the digestion and the skin.

Purple was the color of the day on July 26, 2016. I am going for a run up on my trails today. I’ll let you know what colors are out there! Looking forward to sharing more herb talk with you in October!

T is for Tea, and so grateful for a cuppa tea.

T is for Tea, of course. And just as a conversation meanders around a pot of tea shared among friends, so this conversation slowly and circuitously will get to the points.

My mother worked teaching mathematics and then she went to art school, but I always remember her being around in the evenings, ironing, listening to the radio, and whenever I got home in whatever state I was in, she would offer me a nice cup of tea. That meant strong, very strong, hot, with milk and usually sugar. Maybe a piece of dark chocolate along with it that you could dunk. 

Anything could be solved with a cup of tea! Or at least, you would feel better if you drank a cup of tea while dealing with your stuff.

I never realized until she died that it was really and truly possible to love someone and pretty much hate them at the same time. Or, that love didn’t necessarily cure all the awful effects of betrayal and those kinds of things that can inhabit a marriage.

I learned from her that life is a long process of learning how to inhabit contradictions.

Back when I was a hipster, before hipsterdom had come into being, I had two outfits: a pair of army pants and a turquoise and black striped cotton skirt. I wore them with a green boy scouts shirt or a neon pink lycra polo. I had a good luck bird tattooed on my chest. I never gave anyone the time of day. I must have been a pain to get along with. I was tough. I tried everything but got stuck to nothing. I was barred from the Alcatraz for throwing a table. I hit an Egyptian man in the chest with a rock when he whispered fucking to me on the street in Cairo.

I inhabited a world where poetry reigned supreme, and justice was always possible, with enough struggle.

I traveled through Africa alone because that’s where I was born.

I got a degree in ten years, because there was always more interesting stuff to do.

I had babies, lived on a self-sufficient organic farm, learned to be a midwife, joined and left a religious cult, kept a marriage going, started running, cooked food for myself and others, left continents and returned, learned and forgot languages, and through it all I have never inhabited the high ground to your low ground. And I refuse to inhabit the low ground to your highs.

There is no high ground. When you imagine that the ground you inhabit is higher than others, you start to sink and that sinkhole, although attractive, is ultimately another illusion. One time we were sitting having tea on our farm, amongst the mess and chaos of small children and a subsistence farm ... and my mother's cup lost it! The cup of tea just dropped in to her lap and she was left holding only the handle. Wipe up, crack up, use the handle-less cup for a paintbrush holder, and get on with it, in true Cockney fashion.

So here’s a cup of tea to you, and here’s to having a cup of tea with each other, and here’s to all the things that may or may not begin with the letter “t”, and here’s to living deeply: deeply within and surrounded by contradiction and paradox. Here’s to continuing to have friendships and relationships with people who don’t necessarily see eye to eye with me, who don’t agree with me, who don’t understand where I am coming from. Here’s to long nights of discussion and here’s to building a strong house of thought using the bricks and mortar of our own imaginations. Here’s to open hearts and open minds, to loving and hating, to sadness and intense joy, to night and to day.