Gotta Love Him, the Scorpio

Do you feel the Scorpio’s rule this year? It seems highly unlikely but this year, I felt immediately when the happy-go-lucky Libra set off and king of the shadow, Scorpio, took over. I know that because I started to feel more tension running through my veins than normally. That, and more visits to my shadows than usual.

My shadow emotion has got to be anger. It’s the first feeling I would get when something doesn’t go according to the plan. I’m not a particularly fearful human being, and I don’t get gloomy all that often – but I will get angry in no time. Anger is the one that’s using up the fire of my bright spirit – when I’m not tuned in. Into myself. Into my body and mind. When my head is calculating the earnings, the to-do list, the people I have to call, the articles I have to write … instead of noticing what’s here and now.

And what’s been here and now is my beautiful son, figuring out this world. This past week he didn’t go to kindergarten so we spent all of our days together all the time. For the first couple of days I didn’t even do my yoga or meditation, but when I saw where this has brought me (and consequently us) I quickly called a halt to the absence of inner-goddess-time. I need this time as I do my oxygen to stay alive – and I took that time as I do my oxygen … even if he regularly uses my downward dog for a bridge to climb under, and even if I use a non-harming cartoon with no commercials to relax into a meditation. Well, it’s called life!

So yeah, it’s been wackadoodle around here. But I chose it because I wanted to see how far along am I in managing my roles as a woman, mother, mompreneur, single parent and constant teacher and student thingy – at the same time. What?! I’m getting better, though. My technique?  Try to remember as often as I can that:

  1. Life is not as serious as I tend to think of it. So laugh a little. Or a lot. Actually … don’t ever stop.
  2. All is good because I’m exactly where I need to be … I just need to come out of my head and notice where I’m being.

So even though I have had to try much harder to accept life’s situations with laughter, rather then with anger, I’m still here, bolder and brighter. And you know what?

There is nowhere else I’d rather be because

there is no skin that would better fit me.

I walking the feminine journey a step at a time

never forgetting that whatever is here to chew –

it’s fine, because it’s mine.

I’m focused on not forgetting that I’m here to shine,

and to turn all of the worldly things into my shrine.

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I am Awake

I’m awake on the eve of 19th of October, just as I was awake exactly four years ago. Back then, I had just been awakened by labor contractions, fortelling my son was about to come earthside. I went to bed really late because I went on a late night walk to watch the starts, selected the music that would sway our forcoming birth, took a long hot bath and a cup of cocoa afterwards. I went to bed peaceful. After about half an hour of so-called sleep, I woke up in the midst of what I would only later realize was a full blown contraction. In a haze I recalled waking up with contractions many times that night, so I decided it was no use to pursue lying in bed. I sat on the ball and started circling with my hips, being as present as I could, every time I would sense the familiar rushes at the bottom of my henna-tattoo-ed belly.

I could swear I felt the exact same contraction in my womb just as I thought about those rushes four years ago. Sure, it’s the first day of my period, but now again I have found myself to be birthing something into this world yet again; I’m baking a cake for my son’s kindergarten birthday celebration. It’s the second one I’m making because the first one turned out watery enough to be called – a pudding.

Now, I really don’t like late nights. They get me every time, honestly. It was late when I started, but when I realized the pudding thingy was not going to cut it, I almost felt the need to cry. Wait, I wholly truly did. And the need to feel sorry for myself kept creeping in: »Oh, man. It’s the first day of my period, the time when I should be resting, and I’m not even going to get a good night’s sleep and tomorrow I’m going to be out and about the whole day and why do I always do this to myself on my period, it’s always the same …«

But then I realized what I was doing. I stood up. I thought about my son. I thought about how much I wanted him to have a surprise cake for his birthday. So I looked up, and prayed. I prayed to the goddess to give me the strenght to pull this off. And I sat down in my car, started it and drove to my parent’s house a few miles away to pick up the eggs that I need to make the cake (try one was a vegan experiment that failed).

I came back, bursting with energy and commitment. And I noticed it. And I thanked it. And I meant it. And I trusted her when she said I had made the right decision. And I trust her when she says that this is only the start of the best day ever.

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Discipline

I have long decided to invite more discipline into my life. Correction: I have long decided to invite more discipline into my working life. Being a mother, that means those five to six hours in the morning and early afternoon while Svarun is in kindergarten. Being a mompreneur (a mother who is an entrepreneur), that has meant: all day every day.

It’s utopian to think that I’m going to be able to do all that I want/ should/ must/ desire in a mere few hours, especially because … well, I’m a woman. I don’t do things linear; I do a little bit of this here, and a little bit of that there, and then return to this, and then continue that bit over there. Just as I’m typing this, the granola is in the oven and washed clothes can’t wait to hang out in the balcony in this hot, orange, autumn sun. But being a woman, I also posses a lot of creativity that just wants to see the light of the day. However, being a woman alone does not make me highly chaotic; what makes me such is thinking that discipline would bore me to tears.

I’m willing to shift this now.

I’m willing to see things differently.

If we take a look at the word discipline, it shares the root with the word disciple. I’m not going to go into some religious lagacy, but just consider the meaning of the word disciple or bhakta, which is how the same person is called in Hare Krishna tradition. A disciple is someone who has surrendered his will to the coach.

For me, the coach is myself … or rather the part of myself I have yet not named, but it’s a she. She is the divine feminine that is waking up inside of me. She is my primal nature; she is Nature itself. Her gift is to find wisdom within her cycles; her gift is to descend and ascend, and give to the world all the love and beauty and softness she has gathered along the way. And what she needs in order to do all of that is … inspiration.

My idea of discipline? Surrendering to the inner guidance and feed it well with a lot of inspiration.

Again, my idea of discipline? Every day I take time for things that inspire me; I take time form y yoga and meditation, I take time form my barefoot walk, I take time to spend in Nature, and as of today … I take time for my kitchen playtime. That means I take time for the new app I’ve created, called Igralnica Kuhalnica in Slovene (but coming in English as well) and for sheer plain experimenting in the kitchen. When I’m throwing things together I fill like a kid again, wide eyed, barely managing to wait what’s going to … become.

That way, I’m becoming anew every second of every day. And that, my friends, is a gift.

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Renewal

This moon’s cycle is all about Renewal. Renewal of Trust.

Yesterday I spiralled down to the place where I felt hopeless. Is everything I used to believe a lie? Is this the kind of world where I want to raise my son? I went to bed with my mouth full of bitter ash and I had a hard time sleeping with all these pictures running through my mind. I didn’t want to feel what I felt but I knew I had to feel it. Once a month I allow myself to take the pains of the world as my own; I drown myself in the scars and sink deep … only to rise again stronger and lighter then before.

Today I rose again. I was blessed with time and space for me, as my boys were away. I was working on an inspiring project that I’m preparing for all of you, guys. Reminding myself of what I stand for, what I believe in, and what I praise and preach towards instilled in me a new sense of Trust. Trust into the World that I doubted yesterday. Trust into My World. This meant: no, I didn’t feel like cooking. I felt the way I feel every menstruation, and it is to spiral down, cuddle up and dig, dig. No, I didn’t feel like cooking, but instilled with the new sense of Trust into the world that wants to caress us … I knew we would be fed.

So I finished work, and went for a ten minute barefoot walk on my meadow before picking my boys. I followed the sun’s invitation and cuddled up with golden grass beneath the top of the hill, where the Bora couldn’t get me, and soaked in the last autumn rays … when my mother called. She seemed excited to invite us all for dinner because she was blessed with beginner’s luck to find three big mushrooms on a walk through the woods.

Mushroom pasta for dinner? Thank you, heavens, for guarding my descent to renew my Belief into the world.

I knew we would be fed. And I knew, even in the darkest hour, when I had trouble sleeping, that everything would be okay. Everything is always okay, if there’s Trust in the okay. It’s the same kind of Trust that the story will come; even if it is 8 p.m., when I slowly unplug myself from the World.

If I Trust that there is a story to come, the story will come.

If I Trust that everything will be okay, everything is always okay. The question is … are we okay with the okay, or are we aiming at something else?

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A Ten Second Ritual

I remember mentioning up here already that I have acquired a new habit of doing my morning sādhanā outside in the meadows of our Karst prairie. It’s the best decision I’ve taken in a while because it grounds me like nothing else, connects me to everything else and our beloved, loyal Bora blows all the negativity away. There were times when deer and rabbits were jumping not far away from me, and the top of the cliff with the view of the valley underneath, wrapped up by the immenseness of the Adriatic Sea is sure to reinforce the feeling of freedom within.

I started doing my Peace work outside when Svarun was away on holiday with my parents, but noticing how much better I felt if I started the day out in nature, I decided to keep the habit even when Svarun was back. So the weekends, when he doesn’t go to preschool, mean we’re out and about soon upon waking up, taking the breakfast that was prepared the night before, alongside.

But today was one of the days that we went out really late. My dearest spiritual running buddy came over first thing in the morning for the last chat, hug and a cultural culinary experience (as she put it) while visiting her homeland, so we didn’t manage to get outdoorsy until  almost noon (good thing the Bora was so strong today, so we didn’t feel the heat as much). I did my yoga, whereby Svarun used my Downward-Facing Dog as a bridge to go under, but I didn’t get to meditate; not because Svarun likes to use my silence as a profoundly valuable background for his powerful Bella Ciao* chanting, but because it was time for him to go to bed.

When we were leaving, it was very late, so Svarun’s stopping me every few steps didn’t help my keeping up the pace. First he needed to go pee and then he would order me to close my eyes and look away a few times. Although I knew he was doing that to bring me surprise gifts from the nature, I had been feeling a bit stressed out. I mean, I didn’t get to meditate in a few days’ time and all I wanted was some Peace of Mind. But when he told me to close my eyes and look away, a split second happened. Suddenly, I knew that I had a choice! I could either go on fussing around and wondering what time it was or I could take these ten seconds of time to my benefit. Right there and then, I was offered ten seconds of Peace for me. Peace is what I had longed for but my mind was telling me it was aiming at half an hour, as opposed to ten seconds. I chose to shush the mind.

As Svarun walked away, I closed my eyes and noticed my breathing. Immediately I felt Peace. And I felt teased by the sun that was warming up my face that was softening from the crankiness. And I felt my bare feet on the ground and the weight of the bag, the yoga mat and my flip-flops I was carrying. I checked in, and I felt me. I felt happy I accepted the invitation for this ten-second Peace ritual, and even happier when I realized I was given such invitations all the time. Every hour of every day, we are invited to take moments of Peace, just to plug in more often. Do we accept the invitations? Do we even notice them?

When we know that ritual is not something that requires a specific amount of time, but even seconds … we can make no more excuses.

Svarun returned smiling and shouting: “Surpriiiiiiiiiiise!!!”

He was holding a few flowers in his chubby little hand, and a juniper berry in the other. I felt royal and regal, not just because my soul flourished at the sight of the flowers that were picked for me, but because I had taken the moment for my little Ritual, which made life nothing short of Sacred.

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The Need for Rituals

I’m not a creature of habit, and I have never really made friends with routine. If anything, I found it scary because I usually felt so comfortable with change. But one thing is change, and the other is chaos and I was definitely leaning more in the direction of the second.

My best friend once told me: “Your middle name should have been Chaos, you know!” I don’t actually have a middle name, nor do I think Chaos would sit exceptionally well beside Tamara. However, if I take into consideration the meanings of both names (Chaos and Tamara, which in Hebrew means “date”, the fruit of the date palm), I come to think that I might just be here to find the sweet spot within my thunder, the calm within the storm.

*How do I do that? Daily rituals.

I’m not necessarily only talking about the morning routine, but a night one, and maybe a midday one, and before and after meals. What I’m talking about is Sādhanā. The word comes from Sanskrit, where it means “spiritual exertion towards an intended goal”. I have witnessed Hindus make poojas several times per day, each day, but I never really thought about the whys, until recently. It’s to keep the connection with God/ the Universe/ all that is/ Earth/ yourself/ life at arms’ length. It’s just that. No matter what your religion or no religion is, everyone’s “intended goal” is to be happy, right? In other words – peaceful.

There are certainly different paths to happy. In fact, I will go thus far as to claim that there are as many ways as there are people. It’s true. Blessed be our uniqueness, blessed be our equality.

I said Sādhanā was a spiritual practice. What that means is it’s a life practice, because all of life is spiritual, even taking out the trash, washing the dishes, freaking out, crying out loud, having sex. This only goes to prove that your rituals might include a warm cup of tea drank before going to bed, a blog that you read daily right before you start working, the walk that you take over to the grocer’, a stare at a night’s sky, a massage of your breasts at dawn, listening to that song, pulling those oracle cards, looking yourself in the mirror and saying out loud how much you miss yourself, going to pick up wood for fireplace, a green smoothie, a combing of your hair, a dance to the dark goddess. It may be anything and everything. The only thing that’s important is that you recognize it, and cherish it for it’s here to aid you.

It’s not like we lose the connection if we don’t pray/ meditate/ do breathing exercises regularly. The connection is always here because we are a part of all that is and that cannot be undone. However, if we don’t keep our rituals regular, we tend to forget about the connection more easily because there’s less (no) things reminding us of the sacredness of life.

I think that is what brings us peace in the first place: seeing, and feeling, and smelling, and touching, and tasting the sacredness of life and of ourselves.

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Home

I used to think having a Home was boring kind of the same way I thought having children makes you boring. Instead of having a place to be, I was always looking for a new place to go. I was restless. And while I still love travelling, I also cherish home now.

The first time I ever felt the need to make a home was when I was pregnant. And although the first home I thus created was a room in my parents’ house, it gave me the shelter that home is supposed to give. It was a cocoon, so soft and gentle, where both me and Svarun first learned how to fall and pick ourselves up again, both literally and metaphorically.

The second time I felt the need to make a home is now. I’m talking about the Home inside of me, which is the most important home there is. Because what is home if not a space where you feel accepted, and good, and free … a space where you can just be you and enjoy in all the you-ness? Are you planning on spending the winter somewhere in the wilderness of the other side of the world? Sounds amazing … but be sure to go a-snailing. Like a snail, you should take your true home with you wherever you go. Your true home is the shelter inside you that you create with your morning rituals, which don’t squeeze you into something you ought to be, but holds the walls for you to manifest within. Morning rituals freshen up the body, calm the mind, and ask the soul to dance. And now, after being away for a week of no proper morning rituals, with Svarun using my downward dog as his bridge and my meditation as a wonderfully silent platform for his songs … I can really appreciate the healing nature of … tomorrow morning.

Let’s go home.

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