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Newsletter Poetry

celebrate with me

“Promise me you’ll always remember: You’re braver than you believe, and stronger than you seem, and smarter than you think.” — AA Milne

won’t you celebrate with me
By Lucille Clifton
won’t you celebrate with me
what i have shaped into
a kind of life? i had no model.
born in babylon
both nonwhite and woman
what did i see to be except myself?
i made it up
here on this bridge between
starshine and clay,
my one hand holding tight
my other hand; come celebrate
with me that everyday
something has tried to kill me
and has failed.

I love this poem … thought I might share it with you as part of our month exploring the theme of resilience.
Don’t we all have that thing that we were born which makes us different? I didn’t have models for queerness, for butchness, for non-binary expressions, for sacred intimacy, for kinky topping and play. I too had no model. And I love this question: “What did I see to be except myself?” Would that I could have that kind of resilience.
I love the idea of celebrating this survival. Celebrating our resilience. Things do come after us, daily — the microagressions, the racism, sexism, homophobia, antisemitism, prejudice — and we don’t have to survive it. Not all of us do. But hey, I’m writing to you here today, and we have. You and I have both survived it. Not only that, but here we are, ourselves.
Celebrations all around!

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I’ll bury my nut my own way.

November’s theme is all about resilience. Think of those squirrels burying their nuts in the ground in preparation for the coming winter*.
Lately, though, I’ve been thinking of resilience not in the sense of planning ahead or bouncing back, all in an effort to avoid or get out of discomfort. Instead, I’ve been thinking about resilience as the capacity to stay in discomfort and to find inspiration in that friction.
Alex and I had long conversations about this very topic during the Wonder Body Connection Tour. Perhaps this comes from my New England Puritanical roots but, as we discussed the “healing power of pleasure,” some part of me resisted that concept, hearing in “pleasure” the concept of hedonism, at worst, or pacification, at best.
When I think of resilience, I want to push towards something else. I want to, at worst, develop the capacity to stand in the discomfort and, at best, have the courage take action even when discomfort still exists.
Many years ago, I remember standing on a high log element of a ropes course (yes, a real log stretched between two trees, 40′ up in the air, but me on belay with rope and harness—in other words, real fear but not real danger). My legs were shaking so much I could hardly move. I waited, thinking eventually they would stop and then I could dance with grace across the log. But they didn’t stop. They continued to vibrate like a sewing machine. Finally I realized that I would have to find a way to move *with* the shaking, instead of waiting (hoping?) for it to stop. And so I took that first step—awkwardly and without grace—and then another, until I found myself mid-log, suddenly clear that comfort is not a prerequisite to action.
This concept was re-inspired for me recently at the National Center for Civil & Human Rights in Atlanta where an amazing experiential exhibit allowed me to viscerally imagine what it might have been like to sit poised and determined at the lunch counter protests, even in the midst of screams and threats. Would I have had that type of courage?
And so I wonder, how do we cultivate the capacity to stay embodied, aware, grounded, and focused, even as our legs are shaking? What’s your relationship to resilience, pleasure, and fortitude?
— Amy
* Just in case, I searched for youtube videos on the subject and found this silly one.

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actively embracing loss

“Samhain heralds in a terrifying season when we are asked to embrace loss.”

I’m really into dharma talks and recordings of meditations lately. I have a commute now; plus, I’m spend so much time at a computer for the 9-5 job, I do less of the computer stuff I used to do for fun — like read a million articles and scroll through Facebook groups. I’m spending more time resting my eyes.
But often, I still want to engage my brain and relax and learn.
So I’ve been listening to more podcasts, and looking up more youtube recordings, too. This one I’m sharing with you is “Through the Veil,” a samhain meditation.
Samhain (pronounced saah-win) is the witch’s new year, a celebration of the end of the harvest and the calling in of the coldest part of the year. It’s a festival of the dead, and a celebration of all those things we don’t necessarily see or look at directly — the unconscious.
I used to have a shirt that said “this body will be a corpse” in really big letters … I wore it a few times, but I got too many stares. I already feel as though I stand out, I didn’t like the attention it drew.
This culture I’m in doesn’t embrace thoughts like that. I wasn’t taught to honor death, to invite loss, to embrace it, to hold it like a lover. But what if I had been?
The buddhist dharma talks I’ve been listening to lately have a similar tone: an ask to embrace the inevitability of loss. It can be a way to be more conscious both of our grasping for something that does not exist (like stability, and guarantees) and of being grateful for the things we do have, that we have not lost.
There are fires near my home in Oakland. A hundred thousand acres, last I heard, with hundreds of homes burned down, dozens of deaths. I woke up on Sunday night at 2am and asked Hunter, “Do you smell smoke?” I thought our house was on fire, or our neighbor’s house — but it was huge forest fires on dry land 60+ miles away. The smell was so strong — strong enough to wake many folks in the Bay Area. I’m shocked by the loss, devastated by the photos. Some moments in the last few days, that’s all I feel — completely full of loss.
So I try to be grateful for what I have, reaching out with compassion (and money) to support. I practice letting go — of this moment, of this feeling, of this argument. Because everything is temporary. Even this body I’m in right now, it’s temporary. It, too, will be a corpse.
Samhain is an invitation to consider the dead, the loss, and non-attachment. A time when the veil between worlds is thin, thinner, thinnest. We can feel the death part of the life and death cycle the closest.
But also consider this: in this loss comes unexpected beauty, gratitude, compassion, and blooming. Something continues beyond that loss — seasonally, it is winter. And she, too, has blessings to offer.

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Update: Wonder Body Connection Tour


 
 
 
 
 
The Wonder Body Connection Tour is all over the place, bringing the aliveness of the coloring book near and far. We’ve started describing it as “an embodiment guide disguised as a coloring book.”
I’m looking at this as a chance for me to explore what markers of community say “safe” to me, and which ones say “caution.” Can I test what assumptions are beneath those judgements? Can I adjust those that need changing. I feel untethered in a good way, with the veil between the “known” world and the “discoverable” one being worn thinner. I’m in a deep meditation on what it takes to make connection, to push the conversation to the places that get to the heart of the matter—whatever that may be.
Right now, Alex and I are in Asheville, NC and will be heading to Savannah this weekend, before making our way to Atlanta. You can keep up with all the latest adventures at bodytrustcircle/wonder-body/tour (we just redid it so it’s now very pretty!). It’s sure to be full of surprises.
We’d love to see you!
— Amy

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Recipe for Hunkering Down on These Fall Days

Lizz is off this week but I miss her and so I can feel the impulse to channel something that is about food and nurturance.
With fall closing in, and with all the natural (and man-made) disasters swirling around the globe, it seems a good time for an anchoring stew, something that might tether me to the present. Therefore, I offer you Brazilian Black Bean Vegetarian Stew, courtesy of Vegetarian Times . Yum!
— Amy
Brazilian Black Bean Stew
6 servings
30 minutes or fewer
Here’s a quick vegetarian version of the Brazilian national dish known as feijoada. This stew entices the eye with the colorful contrast of black beans and sweet potatoes and pleases the palate with nourishing ingredients.
1 Tbs. vegetable oil
1 large onion, chopped
2 medium cloves garlic, minced
2 medium sweet potatoes (1 to 1 ¼ lbs.), peeled and diced small (1/4″)
1 large red bell pepper, diced
14.5-oz. can diced tomatoes
1 small hot green chili pepper, or more to taste, minced
1 1/2 water or less (try 1 1/4 next time)
2 16-oz. cans black beans, drained and rinsed
1 ripe mango, pitted, peeled and diced or Frozen OK too
¼ cup chopped fresh cilantro
¼ tsp. salt
Meal plan:
In large pot, heat oil over medium heat. Add onion and cook, stirring often, until softened, about 5 minutes. Stir in garlic and cook, stirring, until onion is golden, about 3 minutes.
Stir in sweet potatoes, bell pepper, tomatoes (with liquid), chili and 1 1/2 cups water. Bring to a boil. Reduce heat to low, cover and simmer until potatoes are tender but still firm, 10 to 15 minutes.
Stir in beans and simmer gently, uncovered, until heated through, about 5 minutes. Stir in mango and cook until heated through, about 1 minute. Stir in cilantro and salt. Serve hot.

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it’s time to pick all the blackberries

Everything feels cluttered lately, as if all the shelves, nooks, closets in my home are swollen with Things. Objects. Items which are symbols for feelings or status or power or appreciation or function. So many of these Things are beautiful, useful; they add value and pleasure to my life. But of course, so many of them don’t.
I tend to be neat, to nest and decorate and sculpt my home, but I also come from a family of collectors. Sometimes I need reminders to really pause with an object and consider if it needs to take up physical space in the my house, and psychic space in my mind’s inventory of What Is Mine.
I keep a give-away box tucked in a corner most of the time. When I find something I just don’t need, I toss it in there. I (like much of the US) devoured The Live-Changing Magic of Tidying Up, illustrating the konmari method, and I go through phases of applying that concept to everything — does following this person on Twitter spark joy? Does looking at this art on my wall spark joy? Does this unconscious habit of mine spark joy?
Right now, I feel a desire to clear, to clean, to declutter. To purge all the cobwebs and really look at what I have. Sometimes I even ponder the question what would I keep, if I only had 100 things? Maybe it’s because we are back-to-school which, as someone who has always oriented to the academic calendar, is the beginning of the year. The witch’s new year comes up at the end of October, and the Jewish new year, Rosh Hashanah, is in just a week or so. The calendar is resetting — how do I want to start anew?
Plus, it’s the harvest. Time to bring in all the fresh tomatoes and make another batch of 67 pints of salsa (like my aunt just did), or pick all the blackberries within reach and freeze two big bags for winter pies and smoothies and compotes (like my boy just did).
It’s time to digest last year and take in what is ripe right now.
For me, that has been a home purge: cleaning off my altar and bringing new symbols down to focus on, peeking in the closets to see what has accumulated there, moving the furniture to get all the cat hair this time. It’s been a digital purge: what are all these things on my desktop? Why is everything in my download folder? It’s been a nutrition purge: beginning a 3-month restriction to reboot my digestion. It’s been an intake purge: I muted the words “white house” and “president” on Twitter, because I’ve just had enough for now.
I’m making room for ready for something new. Readying to push my edges a little bit. Do something daring, maybe even dangerous (with the right kind of training!). Stretch. Manifest one of those tickling desires that is still there in the periphery. Gather the fruit up into my open, outstretched arms, bugs and stems and scratches and juice and all, and take them home.
— Zed

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Mindfulness has a downside?

I always cringe, just a little, when I hear someone speak seriously about “mindfulness”.
What they are saying makes sense. It is important to be present in, well, the present—rather than the past, the future, or some story inbetween. But there is often another layer of meaning in their serious talk, often unconscious, that can easily slide down the slippery slope towards narcissism, self-involvement, and a kind of spiritual hoarding.
We tried to talk about this in the “4th Chapter” of the coloring book: the whole point of embodiment is to increase your capacity for connection and resonance with others.
Take a look at this recent Washington Post article by Thomas Joiner and see what you think about where things might go wrong. I’d love to hear your thoughts.
xo,
Amy

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Eat, taste, smell

The summer has been hot and dry and hard and amazing
The eclipse happened and is still happening
Mama earth continues to provide incredible smells, tastes and sights
Our bodies moan, writhe, cry and explode
Sometimes I feel so damn good!!!!
And other times, well….
What’s bringing me so much undeniable pleasure is making things in my kitchen-Pickling, dehydrating, steeping, drying, soaking, …what else?
Here’s a few of my favs right now: 
1.Refrigerator “pickles” out of any vegetable growing: Recipes from my
new favorite cookbook: SIX SEASONS: A NEW WAY WITH VEGETABLES
by Joshua McFadden

https://www.joshuamcfadden.com/sixseasons/
2. Cassava tortillas: Grain-free, gluten-free, nut-free.
The Guide to Allergen-free Baking by Cara Reed’s cookbook:

Grain Free Tortillas


3. Zucchini Chips: Some of us have zucchini growing out our ears.
Here’s something to do with them…
http://glowflowchefs.com/blog/dehydrated-salt-vinegar-zucchini-chips
4. White Peach and Kombucha Ica Cream Float. Holy Yum!
I have not tried this yet but am dying too.

White Peach and Kombucha Ice Cream Float


Sending love and yummy mouth pleasures,
Lizz
 

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Fire season

This is fire season in the Northwest.   Heat, smoke, and fire press on the mammals, landscape, and water ways.   When I was a Ranger working the forest service, part of my job was to explain the positive benefits and health value of fire in a forest.  Clears out the old, opens to the new.
Fire in our belly combusts and changes organic mater into the nutrients that are food for our cells.   Emotionally and psychically, the solar plexus burns the inner flame of vitality.  When our heat gets turned up, we can take action with ferocity.  Or sometimes it can leap up and start burning the heart center.  Anxiety, heart burn, and ulcerated tissues are forms of the flame.   When the flame burns low, our life force diminishes.
Play with the fire! — it is essential to vitality. Recently my fire has burnt through my gums so strongly that my dentist stated, “This is the worst I have seen your mouth.” In the inquiry about my flame, I ask: where is this heat coming from and what it is doing to my body?  Clearing out the old for the new to open? Or just too much heat produced from hormones, toxins, stress?  Being aware of my heat is the first part of the inquiry … but many more questions follow.
How is your flame during this fire season?
Burn on …
Alex

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What’s the point of coloring?

“What’s the Point of All This?”

In the last chapter of the Wonder Body coloring book, we tried to articulate why something as seemingly frivolous as coloring might actually be important, critical even, in these challenging political times. With all that has happened this past week, this question seems as important than ever.
Here is what we spoke in the coloring book. See if has resonance for you now.


The body as a tool of connection

The mass of cells, science, and spiritual principles that we call our body is alive. We are complex super generators of sensation, energy, emotion, cognition, and intelligence. Bodies are mechanisms of engagement, the vehicles in which we participate in living. Our alive individual self only exists in connection; living is a process of engagement and exchange, whether we are aware of it or not.

Individuated and interdependent

Resilience—the ability to spring back into shape after impact, loss, and severing—keeps us alive. It is through awareness of interconnection that resilience thrives. Awareness and tuning of your whole body fully primes your engagement with the world. Yes, bodies are amazing resources for pleasure.
This pleasure is important—essential even. And bodies are also hypersensitive tools of connection. Part of the joy of living in a body is not just knowing our own individual experience but also in having the capacity to be in resonance with others, to sense—through our bodies—their pain, love, and hope and how it mirrors our own. Our embodied intelligence and attunement can heal wounds.
By coloring these pages you have fine-tuned your awareness, including the awareness of your body and the priming of its capacity. Treat it like the gift that it is and share it, ensuring this magical potency continues to grow.
We encourage you to feel into the web of connections. Be generous with yourself and others. Be a place of refuge of safety and compassion because…
…you’ve got superpowers now!
xo,
— Alex & Amy