Sometimes we don’t notice the beauty we’re surrounded with until we look with fresh eyes.
I was focused on a major cleanup project in the garden when I finally took a breath and looked up. It was only then that I noticed being surrounded with the joy of color. Everywhere I turned, I was greeted with the wonder of nature.
Blooming calendula…
Felicia amelloides variegata: ‘Variegated Marguerite Blue Daisy’…
“Let us come alive to the splendor that is all around us and see the beauty in ordinary things.” — Thomas Merton
Yellow Marguerite Daisy…
…and prolific white daisy groundcover…
There’s so much to be grateful for!
Acacia in bloom…
“Piglet noticed that even though he had a Very Small Heart, it could hold a rather large amount of Gratitude.” — A.A. Milne
I thought the first of March would be the perfect day to share a great therapeutic tool I discovered. Via a blogging friend, I was introduced to a healing modality that processes stuck emotions called Emotion Code and Body Code.
Both Codes re-align the physical body and release toxins, imbalances, and other misalignments.
I was lucky enough to be chosen by Intuitive Healing with Janice as a volunteer for three sessions, which meant I needed to learn all about it before the experience.
Janice says, “The technique works to identify and release trapped emotions.”
Emotion and Body Code are the newest, powerful tool in an energy healer’s toolkit. With them, one can identify trapped energies and imbalances in the body, decode them, alchemize (correct) them, and create an environment where the body can use its own intelligence to heal. The practitioner is the facilitator or radio receiver of information which is picked up from the subconscious of the client.
The Body Code method allows us to find imbalances in six key areas―Energies, Circuits and Systems, Toxicity, Nutrition and Lifestyle, Misalignments, and Pathogens―that are the root causes of our physical, mental, and emotional issues.
Intuitive Healing with Janice (she’s lovely, by the way) uses a form of energy work called The Emotion Code, where she helps people and animals literally get rid of their emotional baggage. The technique works to identify and release trapped emotions; emotional energies from negative past events. Trapped emotions can cause sadness, anxiousness, block happiness, and cause them to feel disconnected from others.
Because trapped emotions are made of energy just like the rest of the body, they exert an influence on the physical tissues and can cause acute soreness and even more serious issues. They can slow down the body’s healing time, make you feel older, fatigued, and break down the body’s organs, glands, joints, and tissues. Releasing trapped emotions make conditions right for the body to heal itself physically, while emotional difficulties often disappear or become much easier to handle.
Often during a session, one might feel sensations such as tingling, tension, and/or emotional releases. The room may even begin to feel brighter. There can be a lightness or weight lifted
The goal is to bring the physical body back to homeostasis.
Dr. Bradley Nelson, DC (ret.) is the developer of this advanced form of energy medicine. A holistic Chiropractor and Medical Intuitive, Dr. Nelson is one of the world’s foremost experts in the emerging field of Bioenergetic Medicine.
His bestselling book, The Emotion Code, has been shown to help people all over the world rid themselves of their imbalanced emotional baggage. Many users of The Emotion Code™ technique have reported finding freedom from emotional problems such as sadness, anxiousness, and fear, as well as physical problems including fatigue, discomfort, and disease. A key element of The Emotion Code™ is removing emotional baggage that may be clustered around the heart. Dr. Nelson has coined this cluster of emotions as the “Heart-Wall,” and it has been called “the most important discovery in the history of energy medicine.”
I was fascinated by the process and what was revealed and cleared during my three sessions. Many people describe a feeling of inner peace after a session, as if a weight has been lifted. Others report better sleep, resolution of chronic skin issues, improvement in digestion, and a calmer, happier, positive mood.
Since I’m always open to learning about and trying mindful tools, whether it’s meditation, conventional therapy, binaural beats, Reiki, or shamanic healing, I’d now recommend emotion and body code to the list. Best of all, Janice can practice this energy work via Zoom so her skills are available no matter where you live.
This is an indication of how much rain we’ve had in Southern California and just how soggy the garden is…and more rain is on the way.
Unidentified fungi appeared in the crevice of a split ficus trunk that was cut down a couple years ago because the roots were starting to come too close to the foundation.
I wanted to keep the stump instead of grinding it because I thought it was architecturally beautiful and now it’s decomposing exactly like I hoped it would.
These mushrooms are definitely not edible, right? They’re most likely poisonous and I’m certainly not going to find out one way or another. I’m not THAT curious or adventurous. Or dumb.
A day later, here’s how they morphed and darkened, plus it’s raining:
Fascinating!
I found a poem by Emily Dickinson about mushrooms…
The Mushroom is the Elf of Plants
The Mushroom is the Elf of Plants – At Evening, it is not At Morning, in a Truffled Hut It stop opon a Spot
As if it tarried always And yet it’s whole Career Is shorter than a Snake’s Delay – And fleeter than a Tare –
’Tis Vegetation’s Juggler – The Germ of Alibi – Doth like a Bubble antedate And like a Bubble, hie –
I feel as if the Grass was pleased To have it intermit – This surreptitious Scion Of Summer’s circumspect.
Had Nature any supple Face Or could she one contemn – Had Nature an Apostate – That Mushroom – it is Him!
“The moon, like a flower in heaven’s high bower, With silent delight sits and smiles on the night.” —William Blake
Today is the opening of the 2/22 activation portal that can guide us into meditative and reflective energies, as well as opening the door to the full Snow Moon on February 24. This Snow Moon is a micromoon, the counterpart to supermoons, as it’ll appear to be about 30% smaller because of its distance from Earth.
I went for a walk yesterday in the late afternoon and was lucky enough to see a daymoon, which is one of my most favorite sights. It already looked pretty full to me as she followed my path, appearing on the right or the left or directly in front, to accompany me home.
Don’t forget to charge some water along with your crystals. It’s the perfect time to practice some restorative hygge, Wrap yourself in a blanket near the fire or with a lit candle and create a cozy and comfortable space. Imagine a protective circle around you, acknowledging the earth and your spirit guides.
“I’m also just a girl, standing in front of a boy, asking him to love her.”
Sending love and light on Valentine’s Day with a quote from one of my all time favorite rom-coms,NottingHill. (Click on the title to see that clip of the film.)
I have a million seashells, well maybe not actually ONE MILLION, but I have a lot. Some are big, some small; many are so beautiful they’re lovingly displayed on shelves. To me, they’re all enchanted.
During the torrential rain when it was stupidly dangerous to venture out and I was forced to allow my leg to heal, I decided it was the perfect time to dust and rearrange my enchanted treasures.
In the process of relocating one of the seashells, I noticed there was what seemed to be paper stuck deep inside the cavity and that piqued my curiosity.
What was it?
A treasure map? A love note? Jewels?
Tweezers were necessary to extract whatever it was, and when I uncrumpled two pieces of thin yellow paper, I discovered THIS:
It appears to be a receipt from the Chong Hua Hospital pharmacy. It doesn’t say anything else that I can decipher. Google reports that this hospital is located outside of Cebu City in the Philippines.
Crazy, right? From the Philippines? Why was it in a seashell? How did it get there? How did it get HERE?
There was no date, no name, no treasure map, no smuggled diamonds, no love letter.
You can 1000% believe that I’ve peered inside every other seashell around here but they’re all devoid of any surprises.
When we first met (at Trader Joe’s) and fell in love, he whispered to me that a little support would make him happy. Since I love to oblige, it was an easy request to grant, however, this proclivity of mine set the stage for me to become irrevocably injured.
Deep wounds take a long time to heal, but my love for this Giant Monstera will last forever. Pretty soon I’ll need taller poles and more support because he’s growing and thriving under my care.
Love hurts, but isn’t he gorgeous? My monster(a), my soulmate.
Update on my injury: Stitches came out yesterday (after two weeks) but were replaced by a dozen Steri-strips to help the eight-inch gash finish healing, which it is, but at a snail's pace, probably because I'm not a very patient patient. I'm a much better caregiver. The recommendation was no strenuous activity for at least two more weeks or it'll open up again and I'll need more stitches and the doc threatened me with an aircast to immobilize my leg. "Threatened" might be a SLIGHT exaggeration, but that's how I interpreted her words...
There’s an intangible, sort-of-cosmic backstory that might shed a bit of light…
It comes as a surprise to some who think I’m only all about shopping and seashells and being princess-like — when they find out I love football and camping and hiking. It might seem out of character, but I guess I’m a living, breathing contradiction, more faceted and complex than one might imagine.
For the first twenty-five years of my life, I didn’t care one way or another about football (or most sports) until I was pregnant with the one and only Original Angel Boy.
In a strangely illuminated memory, I will always recollect the fall of 1980. I was about four months pregnant and the disabling, extreme morning sickness had FINALLY abated, albeit without almost needing to be hospitalized for Hyperemesis gravidarum, just like Princess Catherine.
On this particular Sunday, I heard the sounds of football in the living room, which meant the San Diego Chargers and Dan Fouts were playing. I finished feeding the dogs or whatever I was doing in the kitchen and sat down to watch the game, drawn to it in a way I had had never been before that exact moment.
I asked question after question, hungering for each and every detail — what was a down or offsides or a running back. I was thirsty for knowledge.
After that day, I became a football fan, not to the point of wearing team apparel, but actually anticipating the next season and whether we’d make the playoffs or not. With the Chargers, it was mostly NOT.
It was that late October day that I knew beyond a shadow of any doubt — I was going to have a boy. It was all that testosterone, I was sure of it! In fact, I bet my doctor that my intuition was right. This was before ultrasounds were a routine diagnostic tool in pregnancy so there was no way to scientifically predict the sex of a baby. If it was medically necessary, I could have had amniocentesis, but that was a slightly risky procedure and not advised simply to win a wager.
However, right after I delivered my perfect boy a few months later, I said to the doc, “I told you so, I told you I was having a boy.I knew it.“
In 1994, the Chargers made their first and, so far, only Super Bowl appearance, against the 49ers in Super Bowl XXIX. Of course they lost to quarterback Steve Young and the amazing wide receiver Jerry Rice, but it was an exciting game.
Recently, Angel Boy, DIL, and I were having a conversation about the Seattle Seahawks and why they’re not doing so well this year. When DIL asked a question about quarterbacks, AB and I explained the details of a trade and coaching staff…not only did she have no idea that I harbor an affinity for the game, but she also had no idea that my son STILL, after all these years, had stat after stat stored up in that giant brain of his. She was gobsmacked, as the Brits like to say. It was funny to see her reaction. To me, she said, “How could you like football? It’s everything you hate; crowds and noise!” I told her there was something exciting about the energy of attending a game that was infectious (in a good way), to root for your team.
As I said, some people are surprised by me!
Here’s the psychology of it, and since she’s a neuroscientist, these facts appealed to her: Following a sports team can give us a tremendous sense of belonging, even if it comes with a bit of intensity, Much of the enjoyment we get from watching our team can be traced to the feel-good chemical, dopamine. For a short period of time, we are diverted away from personal problems and able to focus on things outside of ourselves.
All these memories are being stirred up because the AFL-NFL playoffs are on Sunday. Nope, the Chargers (in LA now) aren’t playing, but my other hometown team, the Detroit Lions, are in their first playoff game since 1992. At that time, Detroit faced Washington for the chance to advance to the Super Bowl, but couldn’t make it happen.
Until this year, the Lions have gone thirty-one seasons without reaching a championship round or winning another post-season playoff. I hope they win because I like to root for the underdog, but since they’re playing the 12-5 San Francisco 49rs, they probably won’t stand a chance.
The other playoff game is Kansas City Chiefs against the Baltimore Ravens. I don’t have an interest in either team but the frenzy surrounding Taylor Swift’s romance with Travis Kelce, the Chief’s tight end, makes it slightly appealing because the cameras love to show Taylor’s reactions while she’s in a private luxury box. “What’s Taylor doing? What’s she wearing?”, that kind of thing…
Whoever wins these games will meet at the Super Bowl on February 11.
Still rehabbing my poor little leg, I can’t do much walking or a whole lot of other physical activity until the sutures are removed, so I’m probably going to do nothing but watch football on Sunday.
How was your Saturday evening? I hope it was better than mine, which you can probably surmise was spent in the emergency room.
Since I’m relegated to enforced rest at the present time, this might be a longish and rambling post…sorry in advance!
Here’s a little background to set the scene:
Lately, I’ve become obsessed with houseplants. It started gradually and before I knew it, I was fully engulfed in collecting, rescuing, propagating, and growing everything from Fiddle Leaf Figs to Calatheas to flowering cacti, and finally, MONSTERA. Yes, I’ve gone completely bonkers for Monstera.
I bought a giant specimen and had finally found the perfect feng shui location for it to thrive, but noticed that it could really benefit from some support.
I ordered a set of moss sticks from Amazon. They were due to arrive yesterday in the late afternoon and as I DO, I kept refreshing the tracking updates.
It was raining heavily when I finally heard the delivery truck.
I was so excited for those stupid moss poles that I FLEW down the flight of oak steps to the front door, wearing my favorite warm but very SLIPPERY socks; a gift from the original Angel Boy…
Without warning, because of course that’s how these things happen, I slipped and fell HARD. I mean really hard because I had been running, so my entire body weight slammed into the last few steps.
Since I’m no stranger to accidents, I sat there for a minute to triage the damage, upset with my stupidity and carelessness, When I ascertained that I hadn’t broken any major bones like a hip, I got up, went outside and picked up my package.
At that point, I had no idea what really happened.
The only part of me that had sustained the major hit was my left shin and I got an ice pack and lay down on the sofa. The pain was intensifying and when I lifted the ice pack, I saw a lot of blood seeping through my leggings.
WARNING: THE REST OF THE STORY IS KIND OF GROSS, not for the faint of heart.
You know how you have a feeling of impending doom? That’s what was going on with me.
I went to the bathroom, and before I looked at my leg, I brought out all my first aid stuff; gauze, tape, compression pads — just in case.
I washed my hands and gingerly and gently pulled up the bottom of my leggings and almost fainted (or threw up) at what I saw.
My leg looked like someone had slashed it with a hatchet and there was an open, gaping wound on my shin, all the way down to the tibia. I saw muscle and BONE. For real. Definitely not for the faint of heart, but I was trained by a wonderful nurse, and knew what to do.
I didn’t bother cleaning it at this point. I ripped open a large sterile gauze square with my teeth because I needed BOTH HANDS to close the two sides of the laceration. I did the same with the tape. After I placed a compression pad over the gauze and secured it with more tape, I knew this was no easy fix and I’d have to endure a visit to the emergency room.
I drove to the better of my two ER options, walked up to the desk and explained that I had a deep laceration that needed to be sutured.
They actually took me to a room immediately. I’m grateful that it was a slow evening and not very many people were there.
From the moment I arrived, everyone was helpful and lovely. Also since it was a slow night, many people came in the room to look at my leg. They praised my initial bandaging, and made jokes about why didn’t I sew it up myself, since it looked like I knew what I was doing.
At a time like this, humor is a great quality to possess, and I enjoy a good joke to lighten the atmosphere. I showed off pics of the grandkids, we discussed football playoffs, and they shared some of their more grisly ER injuries.
One person said she came in to see my leg because of how calm I was when I explained why I was there and she didn’t expect to see an eight-inch gash that must have hurt like hell, but I told her I’m always calm in the face of disaster and it didn’t hurt that much. (It does now, though. A lot.)
Because of the severity of the wound, I needed to have an x-ray to rule out any damage to my tibia before it got sutured. Luckily, my bone wasn’t compromised; no breaks or chips or blood vessel issues.
Other parts of my body are bruised from the impact, but my poor leg took the brunt of the fall from these beautiful but apparently now deadly oak stairs…no one has ever slipped before; I guess it was my lucky day, right?
More people came in to observe this AMAZING trauma surgeon repair the laceration. His wife was a doc too, an ophthalmologist, and we chatted about medical things while we waited for the suture cart and he determined how he was going to sew me up.
After the lidocaine injections, I couldn’t feel a thing, so I watched him work. It was kind of like an out-of-body experience. I probably bothered him with a million questions (like I always do) but he also taught medicine and he was patient and pleased to provide me with detailed answers.
A wound like that (think sharp hatchet splitting wood) needs layers of internal sutures as well as the exterior ones.
I had a total of twelve sutures and a few internal ones. After finishing the job, the doc told me how very lucky I was, because if the wound had been even a couple inches to the right, tendons and muscles would have had to be surgically repaired. Yup, I was lucky.
The tech came back in to dress my leg, adding about fifteen Steri-Strips between the sutures.
The nurse took a bunch of pics that are too graphic to post here and I know it’s going to leave an ugly scar, but I don’t mind because it’s a constant reminder to NEVER again wear slippery socks on those oak steps. EVER. NEVER. Lesson learned.
Enchanted Seashells | Princess Rosebud 