by Krista | Dec 28, 2018 | Summer
I gave a lot of thought to what I wanted to experience over the holidays this year, and narrowed things down to three goals:
- maintain my childlike spirit
- be true to my heart
- heighten my vitality
I’ve never done this before, never laid out what I really wanted my holidays to be like for me, but I want to do this every year now, for it’s been the loveliest holiday I’ve ever had. Bear and I have looked at each other so many times over this break and grinned in sheer happiness and peace because we’d built a holiday around what we really needed and wanted.
We met up with people we love and who love us back, and visited happily over Christmas cookies in the kitchen and cold drinks at the beach.
We had together time, going to op shops and watching movies, chatting over cuppas on the veranda and on long drives through the mountains.
We had alone time, reading books and writing poetry, painting pictures and polishing knives, doing whatever popped into our heads that sounded like something we would enjoy.
I loved it. So much.
We have 4 1/4 days of holiday left, and it’s so great to wake up every morning and ask excitedly, “So, what are you going to do today?
Today I wanted to do sketching and watercolouring, make Caesar salad, and gather herbs from my garden to make smudge sticks for the new year.
I filled my basket with sage and pineapple sage, flowering oregano, yarrow, lemon thyme, and rosemary. They smelled so good still warm from the morning sun.
I found a shady spot on the veranda, and trimmed each bundle to size with my trusty knife before binding them tightly with twine into sturdy batons of herbal goodness.
What are smudge sticks?
Smudge sticks are simply bundles of fresh herbs tied tightly together and dried thoroughly. They can then be lit with a match and the smoke allowed to fill an enclosed space such as a bedroom, office, or entire home. In ancient times it was believed that the smoke from burning medicinal herbs such as sage, rosemary, and thyme would either remove evil spirits from a space or connect with good spirits to provide balance and harmony to the inhabitants.
Does smudging work?
Well, I don’t know about ousting evil spirits, but a scientific paper published in the Journal of Ethnopharmacology revealed that studies have found that burning medicinal herbs in an enclosed space eliminated airborne bacteria by 94%. Tests conducted a day later found the space still disinfected, and a month later most of the bacteria was still gone.
I think that’s amazing.
I’ll be burning my smudge sticks in the new year, not just to cleanse the air in our home, but also because I love the physical act of burning out the harmful and welcoming in the good.
I’ve found that often new goodness doesn’t have room to fit into our lives because we haven’t gotten rid of the bad and useless. I’m working steadily to remove all that no longer serves my goals in life so that I have abundant room for what I cherish and value. It’s a wonderful way to prepare for this new year and all it holds. xo
How to Make Smudge Sticks
Supplies:
Fresh herbs: sage, rosemary, thyme, oregano, yarrow, lavender, etc
Cotton string or twine
Sharp knife or scissors
Directions:
- Divide your herbs into even piles with leaves and flowers pointing up, and stems pointing down. Adjust them to make an even thickness down the length of the stick. (Thin sticks will dry quickly and burn quickly, thick ones with take a longer time to dry and burn.)
- Grasp one pile by the stems like you would a bouquet, wrap the twine around once or twice and tie a knot to secure it.
- Wrap the twine tightly along the length of the stick, double back once you reach the top. When you reach the bottom, tie it tightly in a knot.
- Trip the ends of the stems with your knife or scissors.
- Repeat steps until all smudge sticks are made. Set in a shady, dry place for 2-3 weeks until dried through. Store in airtight container until ready to use.
- When ready to use, close all doors and windows in the room/building you wish to smudge. Light the tip of the smudge stick and set it in a shallow, heatproof container, letting the smoke fill the room. Do not leave unattended. You can also carry it and wave it gently through the space, being careful to catch any ashes or embers that fall.
by Krista | Nov 29, 2018 | Spring
This morning started out as most mornings do on our little farm: waking up early and starting the list of things that need to be done each day to keep hearth and home running smoothly. Smoothly-ish.
I wound the cuckoo clock, fed and cuddled the dogs, called the sheep and goats out to pasture, then headed to the gardens to see how they’d fared after the ferocious wind storm we had yesterday.
The winds were both awe-inspiring and scary. Massive gum trees swayed like saplings, leaves, bark, and branches hurtled across the yard, furniture toppled, animals huddled behind walls and water tanks, and the power flickered and died, over and over again. We had to close the house up to keep from choking on the great clouds of dust blown in from out west.
This morning only the gentlest of breezes whispered through the leaves, cooling my skin as I wandered from garden to garden. Some things were worse off than others, leaves withered and drooping, a few branches broken and battered, but everything survived. I knew that a good drink of water would help things bounce back quickly, so I turned on the pump and hooked up hoses and soon water was cascading over the cracked ground and thirsty plants.
And suddenly, just like that, my parched little world became a fairyland that took my breath away.
The rest of my chore list was postponed while I stood there in the early morning light and sighed in sheer happiness at the spectacle of glistening water droplets and shimmering spray.
Such moments are transporting, for they make magic out of the mundane.
Like when the afternoon sun illuminates glass cups in the drying rack and suddenly washing dishes is a golden moment, or a stray sunbeam breaks through the clouds and sets dust motes dancing and suddenly it doesn’t matter that you haven’t dusted in weeks.
I’ve been thinking a lot about magic lately. Not in terms of casting spells or making things disappear, but in how I go through daily life, my mundane, considering ways to make them a bit more magical.
This morning I have two candles burning while I work, one in a teacup made by a dear friend, the other spiced with apples and cinnamon to make my summery Australian world feel a wee bit Christmasy.
I picked a handful of sweet peas and stuck them in an emerald green goblet I found at a thrift store, and it’s sitting on my desk next to a Christmas mug full of rosemary tea to ease the headache I’ve had since all that dust blew in.
My desk is something utterly mundane that to me, is magical. Bear made it for me. It’s a lap desk made of simple pine plywood, nothing flashy or posh, but I love it so very, very much for it allows me to work with ease and comfort.
I can set it up in my armchair so I can hang out with Bear while he watches a movie, or in bed so I can look out at trees and fields while I write articles or work on my next book or manage social media accounts for my clients.
On especially hot days I can take it out onto the breezy veranda, Fezzik curled up beside me, one paw resting on my leg to make sure I don’t go anywhere.
It’s a simple object, but it makes life so much nicer.
One of the best things I’ve done to bring more magic into my life is to work specific hours. Instead of leaping into action at the first hint of something needing to be done, I don’t even think about work (or try not to) until 9 a.m. This gives me 5 whole hours to do simple but lovely things that make me happy.
This morning Bear and I had coffee and a chat on the veranda, I made a batch of elderberry cordial and he made breakfast, I wrote in my journal, rode my bike, picked flowers and herbs, and took pictures of my magical garden. Just little nothing things that make all the difference.
Soon the cuckoo clock will chime 9 o’clock. It’s time to work.
What are ways you bring a bit of magic into your mundane? xo
by Krista | Nov 21, 2018 | Spring
The sun is inching up over the fields, soft and shimmery, turning transparent grass heads into luminous lanterns that flicker and dance in the breeze.
I just finished my coffee and am tucked up in bed, keeping warm in the chilly Spring air as I read and write and contemplate before my work day begins.
For the past several months, I’ve been thinking about this quote from the movie, “A Monster Calls”:
“Most of us just get messily ever after. And that’s OK.”
Messily ever after. It makes me smile every time.
Happily ever after is exhausting. But messy? I can do messy.
I can also do different. Weird. Baffling-to-other-people.
And that makes me smile too.
For most of my life I was too scared to be myself, too filled with shame, too overwhelmed with the demands and expectations of others. I was so broken down that I didn’t even know who Me was, let alone how to be her.
But I know Me now, and I’m learning every day how to be Me with courage and strength and resilience and confidence and lashings of gratitude.
It’s rather messy.
And wonderful. And scary. And endlessly interesting.
In the beginning of this process, I was ferociously independent. I wanted to Do Everything By Myself. Just like a 3-year-old, testing my limits, discovering my strengths and weaknesses, figuring out what I liked and disliked.
I was learning to set boundaries with myself and others.
I look back on that time with much tenderness. I understand now that after having control taken away from me for so long, I had to exert fierce control over everything for a while to figure out my own mind, my own needs, my own ways of doing things.
I had to get comfortable and secure being Me so that when I went out into the world again, I wouldn’t be knocked down, I wouldn’t return to a place of victimhood and abuse.
The last several months have been ones of loosening my grip on things, and it is good. So good. The lessons I’ve learned through this process have spilled over into every area of my life, transforming the way I do marriage, friendship, work, life.
In my work life, I’ve been a solitary oyster for a long time. It was the only way I felt safe. But not anymore. I AM safe and secure in myself, no outer affirmation or validation needed, and now I can collaborate without fear.
I now have a team I work with, and the joy of that makes me thankful every day. It is a wonderful thing to work with people I trust and enjoy and admire tremendously. I love how we all have our own strengths that make us invaluable, and our own weaknesses that make us value each other. And it’s really nice to wake up each day and know that as we each do what we’re good at, we’re creating work that is infinitely better than if we were struggling along on our own trying to do everything.
I’ve learned that my weaknesses are not something to be ashamed of. I don’t need to be good at everything. My weaknesses are just signals that I either need training or I need help.
So I ask for help from smart, kind people, and am learning so much about finances, business processes, and emotional intelligence.
I love learning new things and watching clever people do what they do best.
Yes, life is messy. It’s a crazy, inspiring hodge-podge of healing and learning and working and creating.
Life is also beautiful. A beautiful whirlwind of work and play and the things that restore my soul and create new memories for me, Bear, our friends.
Recently we went to the beach, breathing deeply of salt-kissed air while ambling through the surf and soaking up sunshine. We’ve sat around the campfire with good mates, hunted for treasures at our favourite thrift shops, read good books by lamplight.
I am grateful for my messily-every-after life, grateful that it doesn’t have to be perfect to be good.
What are you loving about your life today? xo
by Krista | Nov 19, 2018 | Spring
Wind is howling around the eaves as I write this morning, sending parched leaves scuttling across the yard to pile up in drifts against the garden fences.
It’s a cold Spring morning, but sunshine is streaming through the kitchen windows, flooding our tiny house with light and warmth.
It’s definitely time for cuppas and hot, buttered toast.
The last month or so has been a whirlwind for me. A beautiful, soul-stirring, life-giving whirlwind. One of those times when the plans you lay out for yourself get thoroughly upended, yet turn out so much nicer than you ever thought possible.
It has been good, so good, but also a bit bonkers. So I pulled back from all unessential things so I wouldn’t get worn down while I figured out how to navigate this unforeseen, but welcome, path.
I decided to start getting up an hour earlier each day, 4 a.m. instead of 5 a.m., so that I could have a couple of quiet hours to myself for reading, writing, planning, and just enjoying my coffee before animals, clients, gardens, and deadlines demand my undivided attention.
I have loved it. Truly. Sitting in my chair, listening to the steady tick-tock of the cuckoo clock, watching the sky slowly lighten. I get to scribble at my leisure, getting the thoughts and feelings out and acknowledged so they don’t muddle and distract me the rest of the day.
I spent much of my life as a Reactor, reacting to events, decisions, and situations beyond my control, but now, after much healing and muddling through wonky thinking, I get to be a Manager of my time. And it is lovely. To wake up each morning and get to plan how to love and care for myself, Bear, our animals and farm, friends, and clients.
I wasn’t a very good Manager in the beginning, pretty dreadful, actually, but I’m getting better and better all the time. I still forget to look after myself, still get distracted by work commitments and realize I’ve been at my computer for 12 hours straight instead of taking breaks to go for a walk, water a garden, or have a companionable chat with Bear on the veranda.
But I’m learning.
And I love the learning process of being the Manager of my own life.
Taking ownership and responsibility, embracing personal and professional development, asking for help when I need it, offering help when it’s needed, slowing down and prioritizing the spending of time with good people.
Those early morning hours make all the difference for me. They help me wade through my personal whirlwinds and get to a place of clarity and purpose, enabling me to do what is most important to me. Even though I’ve never been busier in my life, I don’t feel frazzled or unduly stressed because the vital things are being looked after.
For me the vital things are the soul things: friendship, creativity, personal growth, rest, fun. Work will always be there. It’s a necessity for getting through this life with shelter and food and transportation. But those other things, they make life worth living, they give meaning to the work we do.
Yesterday we spent a whole day on our farm with dear friends from our medieval world. Most of the time I was with them, chatting by the fire, cuddling baby chooks, geese, and goats, learning how to spin wool, cheering on the combatants and archers.
But now and then I’d take a break and stand up on the back veranda and just look out at them all and smile, new friends, old friends, people I know so well they’re like family, others I’m just getting acquainted with and think I’m going to like a lot.
I got a little teary thinking how lucky I am to have such people in my life, people who are kind and respectful, cheeky and hilarious, generous and helpful, crazy and fun, down-to-earth and beautifully human. They’re people I can trust because they tell the truth and couldn’t be bothered with pretense, people I respect because I see how they treat others with dignity and fair play, people I’m in awe of because they’re so talented and interesting.
Today it’s just me and Bear again, Fezzik snoozing on the living room floor, one eye open hoping I’ll give him part of my toasted ham and cheese sandwich.
I carry the memories of yesterday with me, grinning when I recall the kids feeding the geese armed with a big stick and a garbage can lid, the combatants trash-talking each other with the biggest smiles on their faces, the archers giving a little nod of satisfaction as their arrows thwacked into the target.
Those memories remind me to keep prioritizing the vital things, things that make life feel beautiful to me.
Like making Scandinavian-style pickles from beetroots I grew myself, rereading favourite books from my childhood, and attempting spinning, even though trying to pay attention to hands, wool, spindle, and treadle makes my brain frizzle. I’m finding pleasure in the process of doing things badly.
So, as I step back into my whirlwind today, I look for ways to make it beautiful: a cinnamon latte with creamy foam, a bike ride with Bear, and ham bean soup with hot, buttered toast.
What would make your whirlwind more beautiful today?
xo
by Krista | Oct 29, 2018 | Spring
It’s dark and still this afternoon as rain falls gently, making our farm feel like a secluded island, cozy and safe.
The rain has brought life back to our land. Every morning I wake up and look out at the lush, green grass, thick and verdant, that now carpets the farmyard, paddocks, and rolling hills in the distance.
I finally braved a trip out to our orchards, worried that I would find only dead trees after such a long and harsh drought. And there were some dead ones. Our cherry, a peach, the avocados, and a few apples are gone, but so many more survived.
The pomegranates are covered with bright red flowers, the plums, which I had to severely prune after hail damage, have delicate white flowers along the bare branches, and the oranges, limes, and lemons are absolutely covered with blossoms.
I’ve never seen so many blossoms as we have on our citrus trees this year. I just buried my face in the branches and inhaled the exquisite scent that, to me, is Spring. Hopefully we’ll have good rain through the Summer, and no hail, please, and by Winter will have abundant crops of blood oranges, Valencia oranges, Tahitian limes, and bush lemons to zest and juice for beautiful desserts and liqueurs through the cold months.
Even more exciting was discovering tiny quinces growing. I planted it as a cutting from my friend Oma’s tree several years ago. It survived 3 hail storms, drought, blistering heat, and the unwanted attentions of goats, and this year it is bearing fruit for the first time. I’m thrilled to pieces, and cannot wait for Autumn when I get to turn these wonky, velvety fruits into luxurious quince paste to go with our beloved Camembert cheese.
Most of our apple trees survived the Great Goat Invasion of 2018, and, while not looking their best after a necessary pruning after all the chewing, they too have the prettiest little blossoms and bright green leaves. We may not get a big apple harvest this year, but hopefully it will be a tasty one.
Bear and I are still recovering from a dreadful virus that has hung on for over a month now. I’ve never experienced anything like it, and I hope to never do so again. My voice started coming back yesterday, though it likes to dash off now and then just to keep things interesting, but my hearing is still bad and the fever keeps returning like a bad penny. Hopefully we’ll feel like our old selves soon.
One good thing that has come out of this illness is that it has forced me to slow down, and sometimes stop dead in my tracks. As a recovering workaholic, every day is a new chance for me to manage my own time, making sure I include rest and play and looking after myself in body, soul, and spirit.
With the fever, severe pain, etc, I could do little else for a while but lay in bed and stare at the ceiling, spotting shapes and figures in the knots and swirls of the pine boards, and thinking. So much thinking.
Sometimes too much thinking is counter-productive and distracts from actually living, but other times it is vital work that imparts life and light.
As I lay there, with no distractions, my thoughts calmed and settled, making room for needful things to bob up to the surface and be faced. One by one I was able to work through fears, anxieties, self-sabotaging habits and the roots they sprang from. I grieved through broken relationships and celebrated the restoration and discovery of others.
I also stripped away layers of wonky beliefs and thought patterns until I got down to the cherished nuggets of truth that are most precious to me. It is a lovely, freeing thing to be able to say, “I believe this” and know that I actually do with all my heart.
Belief. Faith. Trust. These have been incredibly difficult terms for me. They’re so closely tied to lies and abuse that the words themselves became anathema. This was sad to me, because I think they are meant to be beautiful words, freeing ones, lovely, comforting, affirming words.
So, a few months ago, I stopped pushing them away. I acknowledged how they made me feel, what memories and experiences they evoked, and I started making them part of my inner conversation. I wrote them on paper, added them to my art, worked them into journal entries and doodles and spoke them aloud and sat quietly with them.
It gave me the heebie-jeebies every time. I could feel myself physically recoil, my shoulders hunching as if to protect myself from whatever damage they could inflict. So I kept sitting with them, through the anger and frustration and grief and pain. I was so afraid that if I let those words back into my life, I would find myself back in the place of bondage and abuse that I had escaped from. So afraid, until I remembered two things: I’m not the same person and I’m not alone.
I’ve got my back now. Always. And I won’t let myself go back to that darkness. If Belief, Faith, and Trust are going to be part of my vocabulary now, they will have completely different definitions. They’ll be marked by kindness, love, gentleness, freedom, and they will bring life to my Self, not death.
I have others who’ve got my back too. Lovely, lovely souls who See Me and faithfully remind me of all that is good and real and true. They won’t let me go back to that darkness either, because they’ll keep reminding me who I am.
One of the most treasured things about this journey I’m on now, is knowing that these words are mine to define and live out. If I want to share what I’m learning, I can, but if I want to keep those lessons safe and close in my heart for only me to be privy to, that’s OK too.
I know that’s probably obvious to most people, but I grew up in a world where we weren’t allowed to have secrets. Especially women. Every sin must be confessed, every choice justified, every situation exposed to be weighed and judged by people who decided they had the God-given right to rule over me. It is like Christmas morning getting to have a private world all my own where I can think my own thoughts, cultivate my own beliefs, map out my own choices, and only share what I choose to share. I love it.
Belief, Faith, Trust. I’m still working through how I feel about them, but they no longer have the power to harm that they once did. Sometimes they’re actually a bit beautiful. xo
