I am coming into a place in my life and realized where perspective, experience, and accountability for my own healing have been somehow transmuted into small pieces of wisdom, humility.
To those I may have hurt or caused pain to throughout my life — unintentionally — I offer my sincere apology and ask your grace and forgiveness. I have always tried to move through life with grace, compassion, and without malice or intent to harm. But I also recognize now that there were moments when I was reacting and moving through life as best I could with my own unhealed wounds, traumas, fears, and pain — experiences “gifted” to me by life.
I have always believed that difficulty and pain, while deeply uncomfortable, can also be viewed in a more positive light, as a “gift”, becomes opportunities for growth, awakening, resilience, and spiritual rise. Not punishments, but invitations to evolve. (I’ll be honest, it somehow made it seem less burdensome to move through)
The truth is, none of us are handed a rulebook for life. No gameplay strategy guide. No cheat sheet explaining how to navigate grief, heartbreak, abandonment, fear, loss, or the complicated layers of being human and relationships.
Life sometimes feels like being handed a massive IKEA boxed up item with over 500 scattered pieces — screws, bolts, washers, strange little parts, scraps of fabric, and pages of vague instructions in a language you don’t recognize, or no instruction at all— and no clear image or picture of what the finished creation is even supposed to look like.
You try to assemble what you can. Sometimes you think you finally figured out one section, only to realize later it was misaligned and must be taken apart and rebuilt differently. Sometimes the smallest, most obscure pieces — the ones that seemed insignificant — turn out to be essential to holding everything together. That is what healing and becoming have felt like for me. A constant process of disassembling, learning, reconstructing, and discovering where each fragmented piece belongs.
I am still assembling, creating-and I’m liking how it looks more and more! Just reflecting today how far I’ve come…feeling alive and excited about possibilities-
It’s difficult at times to get a handle on the concept of time…to my very genuine surprise it has already been 3 years that I ventured to Portugal-a treat for my then 60th birthday and the 30th one for my daughter…it had long been heavy in my heart, struggling as a single parent, that vacationing and travel was not something we indulged in, past the occasional camping trip, coast trip or to visit family-it has been my desire to share experiences with and invite my now adult kids to join me on world exploration-and these birthday celebrations seemed appropriate as any time to invite Jenna to Portugal with me-at least the first week of it. Here are a few posts that popped up as memories this week of my May 3 years ago! Just what I refere to as my FB travel posts so very informal-
The Douro Valley is famed for being one of the largest and oldest wine growing areas on the planet, and is on the UNESCO World Heritage list …it was the destination our journey today, and the goal some port and wine tasting as well as history lesson…every corner, turn was a wonderous surprise, amazement-beautiful scenery, lush grapes and wonderful wine! It is difficult to describe the magnitude and scope of the many, many, terraced slopes and the steep grade of these rolling hills…
Wine production in the Douro Valley dates back to Roman times and owes much to the monks who revived the practice and cultivated vineyards in the 12th century…a few ruins of monasteries still grace the landscapes…as our guide pointed out on our river cruise after a tasting at one vineyard or also called “Quinto” (FARM also means “5” as they gave a fifth of what they made to the King) and before lunch…followed by another tasting at another quinto…
I learned so many fascinating facts and history about grape growing today…like how planting roses in a vineyard actually acts as an early warning system of disease for the vines…I won’t bore you with the particulars but if you need a tour guide for YOUR Portugal trip would gladly offer my services as a personal guide😉😁or ask me out for a glass of port and I will regale you with all I learned…
Porto Portugal…what an amazing time…the excitement and good energy of a tour, history, culture, food and drink interwoven and brought together by a superb guide and 6-8 personalities of others also interested in adventure and experiencing the country … gathered together from other countries, walks of life, sharing also their languages, culture and other travel experiences…the chemistry of our small tour groups exceptional…friends across a table breaking bread and sharing laughter become friends across a globe, sharing pictures, and contact information…connecting as humans on many levels and discovering similarities more than differences…
Bon dia…good day…the greeting shared with a smile and a nod throughout the day while walking and navigating Porto
…a delight all around…small restaurants and bars overflow to sidewalks as people occupy small tables or find a curb, a patch of lawn under an olive tree on the “living rooftop of our neighborhood” or lean against a building…drink in hand, often a cigarette…the tables ALWAYS set in a formal and welcoming manner with wine glasses beckoning the passerby to “come sit a spell, drink, eat, be merry for life goes fast so take it slow” as do the meals…do not expect our American way of “fast food and fast service” please go with the intention of an experience…the magic begins with dinner hours often 1930-2000 and can extend until midnight…the light of day fading as strings of lights on buildings and hanging overhead from one area to another begin to twinkle, lending a warm glow to festivities…Jenna and I thought just a weekend occurrence the crowds never really wane no matter the day, we came to realize the Portuguese do this EVERY night throughout the week…feeling nothing but safe wandering the neighborhoods at these later hours…it is also a VERY clean city…so many restaurants with cuisine of any sort and the ever popular local favorites…four legged friends welcome most places but only if very well behaved…Porto attire? Casual, relaxed and unpretentious, comfortable and practical footwear a MUST and rarely saw other than a good pair of walking/running shoes…
Our bags packed a last visit to a famed book store and we, with some reluctance leave our “home” the last five days and catch a cab to the train station…next stop Lisboa 🥰
So with a small tug of my heart…
Adeus, meu amigo Porto, obrigado… até nos encontrarmos novamente
(My Portuguese improved greatly 😉😁)
Rumored to be the inspiration of JK Rollins, library in the Harry Potter series, as she was a teacher at the university across the street, this little unique bookstore has become a “Mecca” for fans (though I had this on my list BEFORE I knew of the intrigue)😉😁 worth seeing despite the crowds as I LOVE a bookstore ❤️
Sometimes healing or happiness doesn’t arrive as one giant cinematic moment. Sometimes it arrives as: -moving to a sunnier-feeling space, -learning where the morning and afternoon light falls, -neighbors offering patio chairs, FREE -chatting to neighbors while they’re walking their dogs past while you’re sitting on your patio, kids running by and waving, joy on their little faces, laughter filling the air, or riding their bikes past -protecting a beloved hostas from snail invasions, (the little critters have been really enjoying my poor plant-“rehoused” 3 off it this morning 🤨😳🫤 -getting dirt under your nails as you fill your planters and pots with color and life-softly humming to your new leafy friends -meeting “watering buddies” willing to exchange watering care of plants when the other is out of town -Walking barefoot in the grass outside your patio doors -creating a “birdie haven” with food and water-the bees and butterflies also enjoying -sitting outside in the evening feeling connected instead of isolated. Those things sound small individually, but together they create a sense of BELONGING . A lived-in life.
Creating my patio biome-hummingbirds investigating the fuchsia and feeder area, bees working the lavender and butterfly bush, songbirds using the bath even more than the feeder, my patio becoming a little “pause point” in the neighborhood ecosystem. peace- Does anyone else admit to talking to plants? I admittedly do-even sing to them-A lot more gardeners do than admit it. Not because the plant understands words the way humans do, but because attention changes care: you notice subtle changes sooner, watering becomes more intuitive, you interact more consistently, you become attuned to light, soil, growth, stress.
Plants (like ANY LIVING THING) also genuinely respond to environment and touch in measurable ways — light direction, vibration, airflow, handling, pruning. So while they’re not “listening” exactly, your relationship with them absolutely affects how they grow.
There’s also something grounding in working with plants-(pun intended 😉🥰😄) -they return my care and I am filled with gentle peace, the joy of vibrant color and lush foliage, gratitude, symbiotic exchange-“learning their names” (in truth I name them but it kinda comes to me what they want to be called) instead of seeing them as decoration. It turns gardening into relationship rather than ownership. And judging by my hostas, and the WILD GROWTH of my other plants, they seem pretty content with the arrangement. 🌿 in light✨-Denise
My eyes twinkled and excitement coursed through my veins, anticipation building for the Beltane celebration at a special and tucked away sanctuary of local standing stones and labyrinth we are gathering at, it whips through my mind briefly and tugs out fond memories of my recent adventure to Scotland and the very ancient stones I had visited there. I stand here twisting and braiding my hair and carefully adorning each braid (3 in total) with 3 shells- Why Three Shells? It is something I have always known to do, unexplainable to me but know it is just the way it should be done -but the number three carries strong symbolic weight across many “pagan” traditions: for example
Triple goddess: maiden, mother, crone (moving into my “crone era-wise, wisdom)
Three realms: land, sea, sky
Life cycles: birth, life, rebirth
Balance and harmony
Using three shells brings a sense of completion, balance, and sacred triad energy…creation, growth, abundance …also I might mention the Holy Trinity of Father, Son, and Holy Ghost (I’ll probably be scolded by someone about the appropriateness of including in a post about Beltane 🤷♀️🙄😬 just pointing out the concept of the number 3 holds significance in many thought) so I continue to adorn my hair-
I intuitively reach for my amber necklace, a gift from a friend brought back from Europe so somehow also feels “appropriate” and while not a traditional crystal, in the usual sense (as it is fossilized tree resin, often millions of years old) think of its organic origin. Amber is strongly associated with warmth, sunlight, and life force, protection, grounding and calming energy.
In many traditions, amber is thought to “hold” energy from the past, making it powerful for reflection, ancestral connection, and gentle cleansing. Making it in my mind, PERFECT for a Beltane celebration. What is Beltane you ask? Beltane is an ancient Celtic festival (Edinburgh has a huge one) marking the midpoint between spring and summer. It celebrates:
Fertility, growth, and abundance
Fire, passion, and vitality
Union of masculine and feminine energies
The peak of spring’s life force
Traditionally, people lit bonfires, danced with ribbon, and colorful scarves and attire around the Maypole, and honored the natural world in full bloom, gifts of shared food and feasting, and revelry, enjoying nature- a purification of the unwanted and old to make way for positive manifestation.
As I approach the venue, Celtic music softly playing on my speakers, my windows rolled down, the flow of air through the open portals tossing my hair around in wild frenzy, a dance as the seashells dangling in my hair jingling from their rings whip about, bouncing and twirling against each other. I notice how vibrant green the leaves of trees are, the faint waft of some flowering plants/trees (likely culprits of my allergies I’ve battled of recent) delightfully fragrant and I am glad I’ve doubled up on my allergy meds. I hear running water to my right some where amongst the thick vegetation, hidden from my sight here on the road as I negotiate a turn, I smile and think how amusing to be turning down a road called “Ireland Rd” on my way to a Celtic celebration of Beltane-I amuse easily, but do wonder if it was intentional or just something I noticed?
Pulling in and parking, I grab an armful of my things and make my way through a brushy trail, the birds flitting from tree to tree to bush around me, and then I step into the opening and view of the labyrinth-while just tender and new in it’s spring growth, not in full splendor can tell how magnificent it must be in full foliage and beauty-the sense of peace and presence of this spot, filling the corners of my eyes with tears of an emotion I’m not sure I fully understand-the tall trees encircling this beautiful laid out spot for reflection standing as guardians-PERFECTION my excitement now almost uncontainable I set my things in a space and adventure down the other trail I noticed…leading to a most inspiring sight of blue sky a peek of Mt Hood in her glory and the amazing circle of standing stone-can you feel the magic? I surely did-but maybe that is the magic we all hold in ourselves if we only let loose enough, are authentic enough, to let ourselves experience it? The magic we carry with us every moment of everyday? Standing here deep breathing, momentarily alone, as I hear laughter and greetings behind me-we are gathering-I am again moved by emotion, in awe and appreciation of nature and her gifts, honored to be invited to take part, share and play in the magic of this day and these people-let’s make merry and mischief 🥰🔥😄
With Light, ✨
Denise
Scotland memories of a few sites with amazing energy- Glen Affric, Culloden, Clava Cairns
I am getting my “Mojo” back!- (personal magic, energy, confidence, getting your power back) -and I am, in this case however Mojo, was the name of the crow I had as a pet when I was a little girl living on a trout farm/hatchery in the middle of the woods in Mountain, Wisconsin -a VERY tiny dot on only a few maps that I can find…Wow the memories come rushing back of the seemingly idyllic moment of my childhood where I just ran wild as a child. We lived in a very small 2 bedroom “cabin”, and to be honest, cabin might be a generous term. Looking back it was more a shack, but seen through the eyes of a child it was the cozy tiny place that became our home for several years. One small heater in the center of the house that I remember standing in front of to dry off after our baths or warm up in front of during the biting cold of winter-more than one sweater or pair of socks was “melted” by hanging it too close to it’s surface to dry. My father had given in to his dream to raise trout, paused his career as a geologist and moved us into this very primitive “cabin” -all three of us girls in one small room-we were small we didn’t mind, and more often than not we would cuddle up together and share a bed, it was warmer that way. We had the luxury of electricity and the small heater, but not the amenity of indoor plumbing or running water, though a few steps down the hill to what we called the “spring house” or actually hatchery, supplied us with all the fresh, crystal clear and cold spring water we could want (in fact that was the name of our hatchery -Crystal Springs Trout Farm)-the only issue was hauling it up the steps in buckets to the house (did I mention we were little? somewhere around the age of 8 or 9 myself and my two younger sisters ) but somehow we managed, until my Dad installed a large plastic tank in the attic. We would fill it with a hose from the springs, and he ran piping, gravity flow, to the kitchen where we had it attached to a tap/faucet. We still had to heat the water on a stove, but it was much preferable to hauling up a bucket at a time and we thought it was grand! You may wonder if we had no indoor plumbing what that meant for necessities of bodily function of “waste”? Well, we had an OUTHOUSE -let me clarify this for you-not the fancy, plastic-molded, and more sanitary version, the “honey bucket” kind of today, but one with actual wood, slats of weathered planks fitted together but still with cracks wide enough for allowing tiny rays of daylight to stream into the dim interior, a wood bench seat with a round hole cut into the top that offered the possibility of a splinter or sliver in a most inconvenient place-ouch. 😳 The fact that it was dim lit and made of wood IN the woods and shaped as a box with corners also made it a perfect place for spiders and their webs-as a child one of my least favorite creatures, so an equal dislike to having to “go”. It was freezing in the middle of a Wisconsin winter night-COLD seems a mild description-I shiver just at the memory-of both spiders and the temperature🥶 It sat at the top of a hill (as I now think of this as an adult, I giggle-isn’t there an expression about the occurrence of “**IT running down hill”? Who would think to have placed an outhouse at the top of the hill if they recalled this phrase? Maybe, this is exactly where that saying originated and I grew up in an infamous situation? Just pondering. Anyway, we aptly called it “whippoorwill hill” named after the night bird that would sit on the roof of it and call out, making a call that sounded like its name. “Whip poor will, whip poor will” with the sound of a great horned owl also drifting to my ears at night I snuggled in next to my sister and gently fell asleep.
Our days were filled with the childhood adventures we imagined and took from the many books we read-we read a lot, the book mobil that was a library on wheels arriving to the area every couple weeks was a very happily anticipated occurrence. We, my sister and I, were largely unsupervised, as Dad was busy working in the hatchery, and mom slept after working night shift at the hospital. We were ok being on our own, we watched out for each other and what mischief could we really get into with acres and acres of woods? (Insert eye roll here-the sticker I saw on a car bumper somewhere -“why did I not die?” springs to my mind) The natural rock and boulder formations, trees, ponds and streams became our playground and we were aware and familiar with every bend, turn, nook of rock, burrow of vegetation, pond, trees, and tree branch (and the moss that grew on them) and meadow in our “kingdom”. We had names and nicknames for locations and realms only we understood. In our explorations, we discovered a “castle fortress/fort” we brought our treasured books, snacks or a picnic to, a formation of rock that naturally came together converging to leave a space big enough for several small bodies to sit or stretch out comfortably, with soft moss on the forest floor, we would climb up and over, using hand holds or foot holds of the rough rock surface and the agility of a child or that of a goat , once at the top we reversed the process until we could drop into our secret “den”. We embellished it by pieces of wood scavenged in the garage, and bits of tree bark and stick, using the natural corners formed by the rocks to wedge the wood into place, building a shelf system- we then used to display our woodland treasures, or set a book, have our tea party on. We often dragged a cushion, a blanket with us from home to prop against the rock to soften the rough surface of our hideout-we happily spent hours there reading our books. I actually had many woodland creatures as “pets”. Critters orphaned by either ignorance of a visiting city dweller who didn’t understand that a baby animal hiding in the brush is not necessarily lost and the parent not far watching in distress as the well intentioned individual walks away with their baby, or unfortunately an orphaned animal as the mother had incidence with a car on the highway (sad but happens) That is exactly how we ended up with our little fawn named Sugar, who grew into a lovely doe, she came and went as she matured, but mostly hung around the ponds grazing and occasionally coming to get a treat, Dad had built a little shelter for winter she could snuggle into if she wanted, occasionally she would bring friends she’d met back and they also became accustomed to us and join her for treats-apples, carrots. We also had a foundling named Kit, a little red fox someone thought abandoned along a trail, a raccoon-Rosie-curious , adorable and very mischievous, my crow Mojo- he was a rascal and had the freedom to fly away and come and go, often took things that were shiny, he was a collector of all things shiny. He would come when he heard me call (crows have amazing hearing and understanding, very intelligent creatures), he enjoyed cat or dogfood out of the can so if you tapped on the tin side it made a sound easily recognized by him and he would fly in and land on on my shoulder or arm-it has occurred to me in rather an amazing realization how he could/would perch on me without ever inflicting damage or pain, not a scratch or poke, and his talons and beak were razor SHARP.
We also named a couple mallards that never flew south and wintered with us (why would they? We fed them and they just hung out on the trout ponds…we enjoyed all their babies but could never tell them apart to name them, just ducky one, ducky two etc-and Lucky Ducky).
Can a fish in the wild actually be a pet? I am not sure but we had a couple huge trout we rather considered “pets”, one we named Big Bertha. A wild trout that lived in a deep-hole area nestled into the bank of the stream that ran a ways behind the house and main trout ponds. She had a hooked jaw that my Dad had explained likely had been injured and/or broken by some fisherman who caught and released with carelessness or some “critter encounter” she was able to get away from-she also had scarring on the top of her head and side of her body. We made up all kinds of adventures she had battled through to make it to the 23-24 inch length (estimated by my Dad) she had become. Somehow she had defied her injuries and hardships, made it to this cold and deep hole in the creek (more like a small river) and grown to become the queen of her peacful, watery domaine. We would take some of the fish pellets from the hatch house and softly call to her, waiting with anticipation and a slight fear that something may have finally gotten the better of this feisty, regal trout, but she would rise out of the depths of the bank and we would toss the pellets in for her, twisting and turning to catch them, her greenish-brown speckled back, streak of silver and dark pink stripe glinting in the sun and surface of the pool, sometimes she would just come float by the edge of the pool after she’d had her fill, then slowly slip away to her resting place. I am uncertain if fish recognize voices but she seemed to, or at least had the conditioned response and connection of our voice and “food” and so we named her Big Bertha-she was revered by me.
So MANY MEMORIES and stories of a really unique time in my life, our playground the woods, our best friends the rocks, trees, animals-barefoot, young and free…life was so simple then… my perspectives from a young age altered and kept me appreciative of the things we take for granted so often, especially in this country, a warm bed, (in fact a roof over our heads and a heated dwelling) running water, nature…it was an incredible couple years
…the two cheeky crows on my walk along the lake the other day, that seemed to follow me flying from limb to limb as I walked, they “talking to me” I interacting and talking back, even flew to the ground to sit and share time with me as I sat on a log enjoying a quiet moment by the water. They inspired these memories and this painting-though this photo does not do it justice, it looks a bit splotchy on camera? (looks a bit rough and rustic) however in in realtime, I believe this to be one of my favorite paintings/illustrations to date🥰❤️😁maybe it’s just the lovely reminiscing🤷♀️
-just a modern day Shaman, moving through modern day life with healing and spiritual tendencies deeply rooted in nature-“feels like I’m finally free”, I think to myself as the song actually comes up on my play list-I laugh at this little bit of serendipity-a tank of gas, some sunshine, a packed lunch, allowing for the gypsy spirited me to choose an intuitive path towards nature today-the AIR moves me, the Earth grounds me, but it is the Water that always seems to draw me in and where I find the most peace, where I go to just let myself literally go with the flow…it’s been awhile since taking myself on a little road trip and today I decided to chase waterfalls and venture towards one not far I had researched-Panther Creek Falls
I arrived as the sun was just beginning to shine above the trees and down on the trail, intermittent patches of shadow and sun making the trail look like a jigsaw puzzle as I gingerly traversed the narrow trail, strewn with pieces of rock, twisted tree roots, an occasional log, the steep grade that hugged the mountain descending to the bottom of the falls – although there were a couple other cars in the parking area, I was amazed to have the place to myself (at least temporarily) I rejoiced in this momentary gift and took it all in- the tranquility mine to enjoy- I settled myself in a patch of soft spongy moss and decaying tree and just sat BEING, a perfect opportunity to do some breathing-that is when I became more aware of the magic surrounding me, entranced-the Stone people and Tree people (also known as the Standing people) of earth, standing quietly and stoically as sentinels, while Air and Water decided to play-sunlight hitting parts of the rushing waters that came crashing and cascading off rocks, and fallen tree to explode in pools and earth, splashing up into spray I could feel misting around me, the mist and sun creating rainbows of color that seemed to float and dance, similar to the dancing of northern lights I’ve seen in an Icelandic sky- moving forwards and backwards in areas of the spray and mist- the trees wanting in on the dance, adorned in their new spring attire of delicate bright green leaves, swayed to and fro, as the breeze (now becoming stronger and more of a wind) teased and twisted through their branches, weaving in and out, occasionally lifting the water to splash a bit extra against the shore and at me-Bird came and lit upon a branch close by to share the spring melody she had been rehearsing all winter and sang with a clear vibrance that could be heard over the roar of water, Spider also was there, showing off her intricate weaving and artistic talents, connecting mystery to magic in every gossamer thread of her web that glistened in the sun, holding firm as wind batted at it, testing it’s strength of purpose, her resolve and intention -so many lessons -indeed just a magic moment of being connected in nature
Whoah! THAT’S BRISK! 🥶I thought as I controlled my intake of breath and the involuntary yelp that sprang to my lips, as water flowed around my body in icy completeness …a balmy 59 degrees we were told, an almost perfect temperature for an ice/cold water plunge-the faint cheer of my friends sounding far away and indistinguishable as I momentarily paused before resurfacing shaking water out of my hair, ears and off my face-moving aside to allow space for the next person to enter, allowing my body to become accustomed to the cold, what was I thinking being the first to join my instructor, mentor friend in the pool?…now I am committed to standing in this cold water until the rest of my friends join us, as the tingling sensation of tiny icy barbs prickling against my skin continued to distract me, controlling my breathing by taking some deep breaths and slowing them I find it’s actually not too bad-maybe because by then I was becoming numb to it?🥶😂I feel tingly and ALIVE- Saturday I had the great privilege and honor of participating in a healing retreat…we practiced some of the healing modalities-practices that have been utilized throughout centuries (ancient in truth) in every and all cultures in some form around the world-the practical application of them as adjunct therapy and also to teach to utilize in one’s own practice of wellness and healing mind, body, soul, integration of emotion, release of trauma, release and easing pain (mental, physical, spiritual)our bodies have held for lifetimes-I have been learning, studying for this upcoming whole year of Earth school …healing breathwork, elemental yoga, meditation, sound therapy, music, ecstatc dance-somatic movement, awareness, healing aromas and COLD PLUNGE…
Cold plunging— cold water immersion—has a history that goes back thousands of years, and modern science is finally catching up to explain why people have sworn by it for so long….why many trainers, athletes, healers have started implementing in their routines, spa treatments, retreats and wellness centers. Briefly-I won’t bore you with lengthy history but here are a few notable historical highlights-
The ancient Romans had bathhouses which included a feature called a frigidarium (cold pool) used after hot baths to stimulate the body. I experienced this in some of the bath houses while in Budapest…and also while in Iceland at a sacred 7 step healing ritual and treatment …cold plunge being the last step-exhilarating brrrr
The Greeks also believed cold water improved vitality and mental clarity.
In Japan, practitioners of misogi stood under icy waterfalls as a spiritual purification ritual.
Nordic cultures embraced ice bathing followed by sauna use—still popular today in countries like Finland….it’s on my list of adventures 😉😁
Cold-water immersion shows up not just in “classical civilizations”, but is also deeply embedded in Celtic and Indigenous traditions and shamanic practices across different cultures—often tied less to “recovery” and more to spiritual transformation, endurance, and connection to nature. Many Indigenous cultures used cold rivers or lakes for cleansing negative energy, induce altered states of consciousness and in preparation for sacred ceremonies and it was also thought that water acted as a spiritual filter, not just a physical one and held elemental symbolism and connection to the spirit world, and crossing into a liminal (in-between) state….even a trance state- “In shamanic cosmology: Cold = stillness, death, rebirth Water = gateway between worlds Immersion symbolized: “Dying” to the old self Emerging renewed or transformed” It also was thought to build resilience through direct contact with nature…AMAZING RIGHT?!?
So let’s tie this back into modern science and physiology and modern “understanding” or thought – Cold plunging blends ancient tradition with modern physiology, as I shared briefly (or tried to) historically it’s been used for ritual, health, and resilience- It can be scientifically linked to nervous system activation, inflammation reduction, and mood effects, the sheer shock of the cold water can create a powerful mental reset, Stress + controlled exposure builds resilience, the intense sensation (believe me standing in 59 degree water was an intense sensation!🥶)forces present-moment awareness (similar to meditation) and what ancient cultures may have reflected on as spiritual awakening, we might describe as- Nervous system activation Neurochemical release Psychological adaptation-as well as physiological adaptation-Hydrostatic pressure which moves blood flow to your heart, brain, and lungs—providing even more oxygen and nutrients to these major organs. Here is a simple example of a cold plunge…you can adapt it to make it as ceremonial/Sacred as you desire…or keep it short and sporty -the meaning may vary but the health and healing benefits are the same-I would not recommend doing this if you have a heart condition before discussing with your physician and would always do with someone aware that you were doing a plunge/immersion(personally-safety)
🌿 1. Set Intention- Before entering the water, pause. Stand or sit quietly-we actually “hyped ourselves up” got the blood flowing by shaking out our arms, pushing energy Take slow breaths (in through nose, out through mouth) Choose a simple intention: “Reset” “Let go” “Focus” Mine was “peace”- something you want to “gain” or something to “release”
Controlled Entry (10–30 seconds) Enter slowly, not jumping in Focus on steady breathing to avoid cold shock Keep your posture relaxed (don’t tense up) 💡 Tip: The first 20–30 seconds are the hardest—this is your “threshold moment.” Some of us did dive in to submerge after walking in I just sank under the water
Stillness & Breathe (1–3 minutes) Once you’re in: Breathe slow and rhythmic (ie. 4 seconds in / 6 seconds out) Stay mentally present—observe sensations without resisting-relax (easier said than done) Avoid distraction (no phone, no music at first)
Exit with Awareness -we stepped out slowly, don’t rush to warm up-luckily the sun was out and we stood laughing and sharing the experience while bundled in our towels in the warm sunlight, letting our bodies naturally start warming This phase is where: Blood flow rebounds-from vasoconstriction You often feel a wave of energy and clarity (according to many- I felt energized and invigorated)
Integration (2–5 minutes) Afterward: we were encouraged to- Stand in sunlight or fresh air if possible Take a few deep breaths Optional: Journal one sentence Mentally note how you feel This step is often skipped—but it’s what turns the plunge into a complete reset instead of just a shock. Such a feeling of vibrancy, peace and invigorating! And I actually can not wait to be more reverent and ceremonial in my next cold plunge-and boy what an amazing night sleep I had. Thank you Gisela for this spectacular and special experience 🥰❤️
As much as I enjoy the full moon…there is a special magic and energy to the new moon-it’s the part of the cycle when we begin to create, to look to our dreams and see the potential in front of us- connect to our inner world and ask for the things that we really want from our lives…to sit still in the darkness, embrace shadows, recalibrate, to adjust and embody, a time to manifest-remembering that anything is possible…and with this new moon and spring equinox this weekend the owl -able to see and navigate in the dark, move by listening and intuition, symbol of spiritual wisdom and spiritual truth…it actually has asymmetrical ears, one higher than the other -this speaks to the power to listen at all levels – above and below -it can integrate what it hears above and below-symbolically receive messages from the Heavens and the Earth -this little barn owl seemed like an appropriate subject for today’s “lunchtime mini” painting I do on my lunch breaks -set a new moon affirmation or intention for yourself…
Rainy day…woke up to torrential rain and enjoying the sounds of it but not feeling inclined for leaving the warm coziness of my house (had planned a hike), or for that matter, my bed…it’s 430ish in the morning and my brain won’t turn off as an idea -an INSPIRATION “bubbles” in my consciousness…was trying to figure out how to capture the bubbles which will be very tiny in a painting I started yesterday…
…it’s a woman blowing bubbles in the tulips… and I realized that you wouldn’t really be able to see the bubbles very well because -she’s small in scale and proportion for the picture and so were the bubbles….I actually took this picture a couple years ago in the tulip fields, just loved the solitary figure amongst the tulips and then when I got it home and enlarged it, I was like “oh my gosh, she’s blowing bubbles!!!😃” I could actually see the bubbles floating and drifting away … so I think what I’m going to do is make some giant bubbles in the forefront so that you’re looking at the whole picture through the playful view of bubbles…HENCE I had to get up and practice the bubbles …at 430 in the morning 🙄🤷🏼♀️ DONT YOU JUST LOVE a rainy day??? So excited for this…a few more details then the “bubbles” (either going to destroy this fairly decent picture or turn out so FUN!!!) GET INSPIRED…(I’ll of course share the end result…if you never see it again? 🤷🏼♀️😂well I guess you could surmise it was utter destruction …
feeling “slightly bubbly”? Like a glass of prosecco left out too long?? I mean I don’t totally dislike it??? (Same with that glass of prosecco 😉) well practice, practice, practice…I DO like the idea though…might attempt it again at a later date
…floating among the lilies in my kayak, if I stay still long enough the lake begins to forget I’m there…there have been more than one occasion, however, when I encounter the great blue heron soaking up the warmth of the sun, standing balanced on one leg in the still water, peacefully indulging in the solitude of the moment surrounded by water lilies in her private nature spa…as I drifted into view catching her attention she gives me a very seemingly annoyed “side-eye” waits a moment or two then flaps her great wings, lifts off in flight and lets out a prehistoric and loud sounding squawking…I have to admit I reflect feeling a bit guilty of interrupting her peace and feel a bit rude…and think -it’s really about honoring space…learning to do the same
some days are for healing
some days are for blooming
and some days…are for not being disturbed
I took quite a few photos that day and have spent the past couple months feeling creative in my life again…painting…thought I’d attempt a couple paintings with them… here are a few I’ve done recently…
Feeling courageous… Striving for simplicity and not getting caught up in details and minutiae…I giggle as I sit here struggling to achieve that with another attempt at Fauvism -not sure why I am so intrigued by this style?…maybe because if done correctly (actually not sure there is a “correct” way?) it is amazing in its simplicity and imperfection? Perfect imperfection…exactly how I have lived my life, when I couldn’t wait for “perfect”, when I lacked confidence, I just kept moving with gentle courage…and usually it turned out much better than I could have anticipated…not sure about these particular paintings though?🤔🤨 I still catch myself getting caught up in the minutiae and detail that really doesn’t matter in stead of a more simple version…BE SIMPLY COURAGEOUS …it doesn’t have to be perfect… Just to recap-fauvism-simplified shapes, distortion, bright, strong, color, unrealistic – more representational and impressionistic Post note: I sat thinking about this some more and reframed my apparent failure at attempting simplicity (as I have recently in my life as well)… “I try to live simply… and yet I still get caught up.” But here’s the reframe:
I don’t complicate life.
I care about it.
I notice things. I feel deeply. I attend to detail. I don’t skim the surface of anything.
That’s not failure at simplicity.
That’s DEPTH…layers in my life…I set out to paint bold, wild, simple Fauvism…
…and ended up layering detail, texture, nuance… BUT creative in my authenticity?? 🤷🏼♀️😬🙄 lol…another heron I attempted from a photo this past autumn at a friend’s pond…the backdrop fall foliage was ablaze with spectacular color…
Just Life With Denise 