If I was a milk-maid it would make sense. April 24, 2010
Posted by Liz Mead in : Sunrises , add a commentI’m up before the sun.
Which is useful in my pursuit of 16 perfect sunrises but not so good for my energy levels.
The reason I’m able to capture the sunrise, is that I’m waking too early!! I’m still thrown by the daylight saving we have in Oz, and find myself waking at hours called “witching” or “sacred” or “milking” hours.
There I am – wide awake , hanging out with my sacred witches. Wishing them to hell, and wanting mindless sleep. Trying to meditate and having no joy.
In the end, I just resign myself to the fact that my sleeping patterns are changing and it’s time to get up. Perhaps I should be living on a farm or a fishing boat. Then waking early would be useful.
The problem is,because I’m neither a fisher or milkmaid or worshipper, I’m just missing out on sleep. I’m groggy through the day and exhausted by early evening, and fall asleep also to early and so on and so on.
What happens in the witching hour is the onslaught of anxious thoughts. Anxiety about practically everything. Every decision I’ve made or failed to make the previous day. Every possible problem that may arise during the up-coming day. Every hope I’m holding and every doubt I’m wrestling to overcome,. They all come calling at the witching hour. What I’d do for a cow to milk!
I think monks and nuns start worshipping at that sacred hour, because angel –wrestling before the sun gets up is scary and you need to direct that anxiety into some good solid chanting.
Of course, they say that this time also is the time when the veil between the worlds is thinnest. The world, punctuated by sunrises, and the other world, or after-life many believe in.
Who knows, perhaps I have to be awake to unveil or witness something -like the sun. It’s worked for cultures and religions, it won’t hurt me to be attending to the numinous for a while. I still wish I had a cow though, to keep me company.
Blondes, fun and the investment factor April 24, 2010
Posted by Liz Mead in : Into the new space , add a commentYikes- I’m blonde.
Am I having the adventure I should have had when I was younger? Or is it that there’s a smaller gap between grey and blonde than there is between brown and grey. And I’m having the adventure I need to have as an older woman.
But explain that to my psyche every time this new face looks back at me from the mirror.
Up until now, there’s been an unspoken contract between me and my identity. Everything I’ve done in the past is to deny it, cover it, colour it, shield myself from it. Not now!
There’s something empowering about colouring hair closer to the actual colour it is –aka senior grey.
It’s like meeting the person I need to be – for as long as I am here to be it.
The craziest thing is that I am making up for all those revolutionary years when I never did anything exciting – like going pink, purple, green or orange.
Living or testing the myth that blondes have more fun or more funds? Is it true? Have I invested in or placed myself in a better position to launch the next expansive phase, simply by altering part of my visage?
One thing I am noticing is that you’re more visible when you’re blonde. Hard to explain, but if I was to compare the comments, smiles and encouragements over a single week received when I was brunette to when I was blonde, I’d have to say blonde wins hands down.
So – nothing exciting about this post except that I look completely different – now let’s see if it makes any difference to how I live.
