Tossing Worries Meditation

Begin with some deep cleansing breaths, breathing deeper and deeper for 5 to 10 breaths. Relax each part of your body - head and neck, shoulders and arms, down your spine, hips and thighs, calves and feet, chest and belly. Say out loud or in your head, "I am calm, peaceful, and relaxed." 

Now visualize yourself going down to the ocean, a favorite river, lake, or pond. It could be real, something from a movie or TV scene, or completely made up. Make it as vivid as possible. Notice the sights, sounds, colors, textures, and tastes. Be aware of the time of day and the season of the year. Allow yourself to enjoy this special place that lives deep inside your imagination.

Discover a container with a light lid, cork, or lock. Maybe a cobalt blue bottle. Pick up pebbles, naming each of your worries, and pop them into the bottle. Take all the time you need. Notice the weight of each stone, how it feels in your hand, and the satisfying sound as you drop it into your container.

When it feels complete, put the lid on tightly, and seal it in any way that makes you feel safe and secure. Throw it into the water and visualize it sinking all the way to the bottom, deep, deep down, never to surface again. Notice how it feels to be released from your burdens and fears.

 

Take some deep breaths, returning into your body gently, Notice being present and conscious, alert, awake, and alive. Welcome back.

(Excerpt from Laphrodite's Guide to Mindful Menopause or the Adventures of a Baby Crone)

Cultivating Lightheartedness

Laughter is the best medicine.

Even before menopause, I would run incredibly hot during sessions. I figured it was just nervous energy, but I needed to discover how to channel it. I learned to wear slip-off shoes even in winter, to send the nervous energy through my feet into the earth to be grounded. 

Then I heard about Reiki, the passing of energy for the most beneficial good, and instantly became intrigued. It has been an amazing adjunct, whether combined with hypnotherapy or as a modality on its own. Developed by Dr. Mikao Usui in Japan during the early 1900s, Reiki is one way to tap into universal energy.

When I enrolled, I expected to learn some techniques much like learning massage. To my surprise, what we really did was about fifteen hours of meditation. After being attuned, we were taught how to facilitate the flow of energy and the release of negativity. 

I had a profound vision during my Reiki I class, which included being deeply in service to Jesus by washing his feet with my hair, cleaning his wounds, and assisting him. Now, I was not brought up Christian; if anything, my parents are militant agnostics, so this was very unexpected. 

After this class, I was qualified to perform self-Reiki, to pass energy through my own body to facilitate relaxation and thus the healing process. I also noticed a new relationship with animals - cats in particular come running up to me in the street, a phenomenon I like to call Rei-kitty.

After a year of practice, I went for Reiki II in order to learn how to assist others. Another fifteen-hour meditation ensued. Once again, I set my intention to be in service, and this time I saw myself before Mary Magdalene, washing her feet with my hair, wiping away her tears, knowing my role is to offer comfort and compassion to those who have suffered loss and grief.

Another year passed, and I decided to go for my Reiki III, the ability to do distance healings. It was a period of conflict and inner confusion, so I set the intention to experience clarity. On the last day of our attunements, nine students circled me on the massage table, the last one to receive the Reiki energy that day. One student laid her hands on my temples, another on my ankles, and the others formed a linking bridge to continuously pass energy through my being. “Clarity, clarity, clarity,” I chanted in my head, “Clarity, clarity, clarity.” When Jim Carrey appeared…

Yes, Jim Carrey, snorting like a crazy man, a bottle of sinus medication in one hand, laughing at me, saying, "Clarity? You want Clarity? Try this for clarity, Kayla. Try lightening up!"

Yes, how to stop taking myself so seriously, cultivate lightheartedness, how to see humor in my situation, how to inspire through the ultimate medicine, laughter. 

I have a deep respect for Reiki and practice every day. But I always have a secret smile before we begin, blessing the situation in the name of Jesus, Mary, and Jim.

(Excerpt from Laphrodite's Guide to Mindful Menopause or the Adventures of a Baby Crone)

Quest for Vision

 

I had been wandering for hours, blind, barefoot, lost in the forest, no water, almost sunset. How could this happen? It all started with a quest for better vision.

 I first began wearing glasses in sixth grade, and like most people, have seen an increase in my prescription over the years. I switched to contacts in tenth grade and wore them consistently for the next twenty years. Indeed, my motto for a long time was, “Home is where the contact lens case is."

I decided to go back to wearing glasses full-time about five years ago. I went to my optician for a new set, feeling that I was having a hard time reading. The doctor said my prescription had changed so minimally that it was not worth getting a new one, but instead they encouraged me to simply stop wearing my glasses when reading, as I am nearsighted.

Part of my Ph.D. program included a six-week course in Integrative Vision Therapy. Much like the aromatherapy class, I knew that this was something I wanted to use for myself right away. As soon as I started the unit, I began taking my glasses off in earnest. I beaded an eyeglass chain to make it easier for me to switch back and forth from my prescribed vision to “naked vision.”

This was a mindfulness exercise. I started with fifteen-minute increments, usually while studying, and gradually increased to a few hours (cumulative) a day. I began to challenge myself more by walking the half hour to my dance classes with no glasses on, observing my internal state as I negotiated streets and crosswalks. I noticed feeling internally softer as I experienced the blur, as well as a softening of my facial muscles. I felt like I was not wearing my social mask, but instead felt really relaxed and unconcerned about other people and their perceptions of me. I also found myself less worried about the mundane details of life (paying bills, returning calls, picking up kids, etc.) and more enjoying the moment, discovering how much more I really could see than I had expected. I felt safe and grounded, never in any danger. 

Not that I’m ready to drive without glasses, but this was certainly the proverbial eye-opener as to the extent to which my glasses felt like a crutch. As I navigated the paths in my softer vision, I found it easier to visualize the steps I needed to take to decrease my stress levels in other aspects of my life. This seemed to flow with the assertion that nearsightedness is a message of being afraid to see what’s out there, of pulling with, and to begin reaching out with a clearer purpose and to take risks, as well as to use relaxation techniques that allow “being” more than “ doing.”

I found myself using naked vision more and more, during lectures, meetings, and times when I didn’t have a need to be completely focused (i.e., in control), such as hanging out in a café or having dinner. Breaking my morning habit of reaching for my glasses had been difficult, but I now I could trust that no gnomes had moved the coffee-pot in the middle of the night, and I found it easier and easier to delegate my lenses to the realm of something that I need to drive, much like my keys, rather than something I need to clingto all day long.

Time passed, and I finished the final exam for the course, and I knew sushi would be somewhere in the picture as a reward. It was still fairly early in the afternoon, so I chose to start with a hike up to the Land of Medicine Buddha, a retreat that was close to my office in Soquel Village. 

Just driving through the redwoods felt relaxing. I parked my car about a half mile away, planned to walk up to the retreat, do a brief walking meditation around the prayer wheel, and be back in about half an hour, if that. 

I took my glasses off as I moved along the road, finding my rhythm and feeling my stride. As I crossed a little bridge, I noticed how much noise my shoes were making, and I decided to slip them off. I popped them by a tree trunk, putting my car keys and glasses inside, so I wouldn't have to carry anything either. I felt light and easy in the moment.

I had been stressed all month, combined with allergies, and had seen a return of GERD and asthma as a result. "What steps do I need to take for my health?" kept going through my head as I reached the Prayer Wheel. I gripped the handle and began walking, closing my eyes and letting the wheel guide me. I thought about how many feet had stepped on this circle before, how many prayers for peace and to be released from suffering had been chanted. I noticed the shadows and golden sunlight dancing on my eyelids as I went slower and slower.

After some time had passed, I felt complete. Jauntily, I set off down the path feeling better than I had in a long time. After a while, the path started to veer sharply up, and I came across a gate with a "No Trespassing” sign. 

It should say "No Stress-passing," I thought, realizing right then that I must have taken a wrong turn somewhere. "Okay, " I mused, "Here's this adventure." Well, four hours later…

Some who wander actually are lost. I had to laugh at myself, for pretty much I was experiencing my worst nightmare - no idea where I was, barefoot, no glasses, the sun starting to set, getting thirsty. And I was fine. Of course, I started to imagine more and more dire situations - by the time I did find the bridge, what if a squirrel had stolen my car keys? I took some deep breaths and reminded myself to be calm, be mindful, use my senses, tune in to nature, my nature. 

I paid attention to the moss under my sore feet, the feel of stepping on soft, dead leaves, the quiet rustles, and inconsistent bird calls. This was no vision quest, the finding of a spirit name. It was a trust walk, as in I could trust that I could find my way back home. I turned a corner, and there below me in the blurry distance was the bridge with my little blue car parked far below. I wound myself down through the purplish dusk. Never have I felt so thankful to slip on my shoes, jingle my keys, tuck my glasses safely behind my ears, and be able to focus clearly. And I tell you, that was the best sushi I've ever had in my life.

(Excerpt from Laphrodite's Guide to Mindful Menopause or the Adventures of a Baby Crone)

Empty Cup

 

Let go of letting go.

This morning I tidied my office before going on a four-day retreat up in the Russian River area. As they say, nothing gets us more productive than the last minute. I had already cleaned the crystal water glasses I had for my three sessions for the day - Three of Cups in the tarot represents bonding, friendship, and collaborations.

But now I took a moment to polish my own glass. Crystal, yes, but different from the others, larger to start - I drink a lot of water during sessions. Four of Cups in the Tarot, overcoming sorrow after grief, a card I identify with as the wounded healer.

There is a tradition where each night one drinks a glass of water, then puts it face down to indicate, "I am done, everything is complete, I could die at peace tonight." Then, in the morning, hooray! You wake up alive, fill that cup again, and start a brand new day.

So I flipped my cup over. I was done. I was ready. Let me be transformed and begin anew. That was the unexpected gift in the bowl, a giggle from Coyote, a long look in the mirror, a decision to change my story, a decision made long ago now ready to be acted upon. A feeling of peace, a calm anticipation, a reason to get up in the morning, as well as reassurance in my mind at night.

(Excerpt from Laphrodite's Guide to Mindful Menopause or the Adventures of a Baby Crone)

Ice Cube Magic

Ice cubes are, in essence, fixed water (Scorpio) and represent fixed emotions. Whether you feel fixated on the past, obsessed with changing the present, or fully focused on the future, ice cube magic may ease your way.


Take an ice cube from the freezer. Grab a permanent marker: black, blue, or red ink works best. Write on the ice cube anything you want to see dissolve, shift, or change: grief, jealousy, stress, debt, taxes, the name of an ex-lover, your boss, cancer, etc. If the tip freezes, it's okay; you can imagine invisible ink or switch to using an athame to scratch in the word(s).


Put it on a small plate, preferably in the sun. You can sit and watch the ice cube dissolve, noticing all the emotions that well up in your being and dissolve through tears. Or you can go out and do something completely else - the spell will be working in your subconscious the whole time.

Now, what to do with your melted emotions? You can pour the water down the toilet, flushing it completely away. You can pour it on an outside plant, allowing new growth to emerge. Be creative, yet keep it simple; invite ease and flow into your life.

(Excerpt from Laphrodite's Guide to Mindful Menopause or the Adventures of a Baby Crone)

Believe

 

I believe in a goddess

Impossible to describe

Clearly recognizable

Call her Laphrodite

Goddess of the belly laugh

 

She giggles with Kuan Yin

Over eggs Benedict and strong coffee

Rhumbas with Buddha

In her spare time

Breaks bread with Jesus

Who always brings the wine

 

A good listener

Pervasive as the sky

Wiser than the redwoods

Deep as the stars

 

See her in the cats’ eyes

Evening suns’ sweet surprise

The cosmic spiral of milk

In my morning coffee

 

She dreams of 

Ancient Women

Who did not 

Apologize

 

She is Multi-gendered, 

Depends on the day of the week

Or the Moon

It’s just a phase

 

Lots of arms

Definitely many faces

Often found

In the most unusual of places

 

Starting with my face

Reflected in the mirror

Messy hair and all

(Excerpt from Laphrodite's Guide to Mindful Menopause or the Adventures of a Baby Crone)

Mercury Retrograde

Heart in chest, heavy and weighted

Secrets locked deep, shields up.

Hibernating, stewing in mental juices,

Cauldron of the past percolates memories.

Mercury retrograde,

And to calm my chattering mind,

I recite a litany of lovers,

A rosary of remembrance,

Prayers for the lovers gone by.

Stir, notice what comes up to the surface,

Monkey mind, emotional roller coaster.

Swallow the little things, let them go,

Move on to bigger things, purging the past.

Mercury retrospect,

And to calm my chattering heart,

I recite a litany of lovers,

Beading hopes and beliefs,

Prayers for the lovers yet to be.

Giving permission,

Cultivate lightheartedness,

Allow yourself to laugh with that

Universal trickster, coyote.

Mercury reviewed,

And to calm my chattering soul,

I find the repeated pattern,

In my litany of lovers,

My rosary of remembrance,

The common thread throughout

Is the lover in me.

Witch cackling over bubbles,

Completion of spells.

Casting of doubts...

Transformation has begun.

(Excerpt from Laphrodite's Guide to Mindful Menopause or the Adventures of a Baby Crone)