Laphrodite's Guide to Mindful Menopause

 

Laphrodite's Guide to Mindful Menopause 

or the Adventures of a Baby Crone

An enchanting collection of midlife musings, moon magic, and meditations for mindful menopause. Over the last three years, menopause has brought me to my knees. In this humbled position, I offer anecdotes, potential antidotes, and some not-so-common advice.

According to the Mayo Clinic, menopause is experienced by over 3 million women a year in the United States alone. What makes this book different is viewing menopause as a time of incredible spiritual growth and creativity, rather than just a physical experience that needs a special diet or more exercise.

The book offers concrete tools such as guided visualizations, meditations, and rituals to honor this significant passage in a woman's life. Rather than a dry reference book, it includes humorous stories, inspiring poetry, and juicy practices to experience mindful menopause. 

I thoroughly enjoyed this book! I love the artwork and how it goes along with the readings. It was empowering, and beautiful, giving an honest portrayal of the fem experience. Highly recommend! - Kaileigh Otsuka

Random Advice

• Compliment people- be sincere. See something you like - a piece of jewelry, the color of a shirt and say something. People love it.
• Say thank you- send note cards by snail mail, have a stack of little gifts like painted rocks and bookmarks to give to clients- I hand out  a lot of hematite, rose quartz, and magnets (law of attraction) and gratitude
• Take time for yourself- be intentional, don't fight just to get some space. Nor do you have to be sick or cranky. Make it organic.
• Listen to music- turn on the radio, play CDs in the car, sing in the shower, notice that earworms in your head. Find the lyrics, watch the videos, and dance to them.
• Love your pets. They are amazing. Enough said.
• Don't listen to advice that does not resonate with you.

Thoughts on Beginner’s Mind

Thoughts on Beginner’s Mind

If the angel deigns to come it will be because you have convinced her not by tears. But by your humble resolve to be always beginning to be a beginner- Rainier Marie Rilke

Beginnings, successes, and failures. I chose to be a beginner when I signed up for the children's illustration class at Cabrillo College. I know my artistic talent needs to be developed so I enrolled in watercolor classes as well as online drawing classes. 

The online classes were complete flunk. I read the essays and watched the videos, but never did the homework. What a difference it makes being in an actual classroom with an actual teacher. I remember taking the nude portrait class at the Corcoran in Washington DC, my senior year of high school. We laughed as the model did a headstand and we had to draw his danger dangling straight down his belly. 

I felt so inept then, still do when confronted by some charcoal or pastels. I completely fail in realism, something my art lacks unless a photograph. My art feels childish more than cartoonish, immature rather than anime, and I comfort myself by saying at least it's mine. At least I'm willing to put it out there. 

Still my inner critics says it's no good, has no value, and in my dad's voice, it will never make any money. Maybe my art is primitive. It certainly is inconsistent. What is consistent is my pattern of doing something  a hundred times, then stopping, just like the batik silk scarves I made to earn money for the Global Walk.

Or the Herland crafts that I would make after hours -  stained glass boxes in the shape of pink and black triangles; decoupage cigar boxes lined in burgundy velvet repurposed from the thrift store; simply scanning objects and adding a pithy quote to create mugs, bookmarks posters. Magnets and more, who knew what you could do with a laminator and a pair of good scissors. 

Some sold and did make money but there was always a feeling of falseness. It wasn't real art, especially any collage work, using somebody else's images, cut from magazines and old calendars as opposed to just doing a google search and downloading an image. Although in this day and age of AI scrapings, whether mixing music or images, who’s to say what is art? 

These days I struggle with colored pencils, I’ve used up all the pastels, I muddy up the watercolors too often. I’m going back to painting with acrylic. Wonder if I do better with oils. We'll see after the next hundred little canvases bloom...

I choose to be a beginner. Not quite the perpetual student, but certainly willing to flip from medium to medium. Never mastering any modality fully, but least feel comfortable getting my hands dirty. The page and the coffee table now splattered as I spray liquid confetti from the ends of an old toothbrush across the page.

Clothes Lines

God is in the details. Yesterday, I gave one of my clients a fistful of dried rose petals from the Coretta Scott King rose bush. It's in the backyard. planted between reputation and love/union/marriage, according to Tibetan Black Hat Feng Shui. This uses the front door as the key alignment instead of the traditional north-south compass.

As she continued her story, I laid my hands on her shoulder blades, sending Reiki along her spine, her angel wings. She was using the blue, pink, and purple sharpies on the clipboard paper to outline her letting go.

In therapy we say you know you're “over it” when you can speak about ”it” in a normal tone of voice. Or I think about Marianne Williamson forgiveness does not mean what happened was okay. It means it no longer affects you.

So I forgive myself for not following up on the health insurance today, or watering the backyard, let alone mowing. Since at least the laundry’s in the washer, not quite ready for the dryer, I give myself permission to write down these few lines. Closing lines. Clothes lines.

Apology

I'm sorry for being so tired.

Sorry for being uninspired. 

Sorry to not be motivated, 

I simply feel inundated.

 You have to see, please understand,

This is completely out of my hands,

Not enough time. Not enough rhyme,

Sometimes I just don't feel fine.

And what do I do with all of this writing?

Post it online, cause more fighting?

Will I be accepted? Be heard, my fear,

 Am I dissed for being pagan or too queer?

 There's too many dishes, too much mess,

All of this just adds to my stress.

So no more excuses. I know my place,

 I take a deep breath. I wash my face,

 Set my intentions, what I've been hoping,

 And I crack my journal wide open...

Baby Crone's Tarot Playbook

 Now available in hardcover!

Baby Crone's Tarot Playbook

or Laphrodite's Mini Mindfulness Meditations

Baby Crone's Tarot Playbook offers seventy-eight short practices for that tarot on the go feeling. Rich, full color images accompany the guided meditations to create a synthesis of right-brain and left brain activity by combining potent imagery with meaning words. Whether you flip to a random page for a quick hit, spend an hour using an image as a writing prompt in your journal, or dedicating yourself to delving deep into meaning and symbolism of each piece, this is a treasure trove of accessible wisdom.

The Word Whisperer

 The Word Whisperer

Once upon a time, in a jewel box by the sea,

Lived a Word Whisperer named Lisa, and her magnificent cat, Rumi.

She spent her days writing, teaching, reading and seeking,

Believer in the power of words: transforming, listening, and speaking.

Then one day, a bleak plague came across the land,

Trumpet tears, Covid fears, all went hand in hand.

She lost her direction, taste, even her sense of smell,

How to gather up those pieces, what story now to tell.

It was a time of stupor, a time of feeling of stuck,

Bogged down in all of the rhetorical guck,

But wait, her daughter Colette was pregnant,

How to bless and gift the expectant?

Lisa thumped her chest, set off on a quest, Rumi at her side,

And she met these particular muses, on the by and by,

Invited to a quilting bee for the softest lullaby,

Woven from yet unspoken gossamer sighs.

Sitting for a spell, these spelling bees,

Notebooks on their laps, pen caps between their knees,

Doubled and further multiplied,

Zoom in, zoom out, perspectives diversified.

The Word Whisperer moved her hands, harvesting silk,

Invoking the muses, aware of her ilk,

Chanting under the big dipper, creating her circles,

Resources, Sorceresses, composting rose petals.

There at the threshold, slowly she began to build power,

Delicious minutes, savoring every hour,

Mindful of the moments, creating her altar.

Ensuring her words would never falter.

Lighting a match to inspire the stubborn candle,

Eagle feather to let go of what one can no longer handle,

Taking the time for name tags, a basket of release,

A ritual writing of kumquats, hope, and soft grief.

Lisa listened as her muses sang of a heart shaped stones,

Embroidered cat tails and daiquiri ice cream cones,

Collected cat whiskers and a lost earring or two,

A Peace Angel mended with heart, tears, and gorilla glue.

Five stones in clear reflecting bowls,

Helping the Word Whisperer to reach her goals,

Thanking each of her muses with a sigh,

Now she had the unmasked gold for her lullaby.

She had the threads, she knew what to do,

Just how to breathe and weave them through,

Though the years go by too fast, the winter night is too long,

She knew her magic is good, her magic is strong.

 Knocking her wrists together three times,

Hearing the last of the second chime,

Holding the lotus, fingers blossoming true,

Now go write your story, We have sung to you…

The Word Whisperer let her lullaby sail,

Rumi said, this is the end of my magnificent tail…

So bid adieu, thank you for the tears and laughter,

And they all wrote,

Happily Ever After.

The End

Kayla Garnet Rose, Crow Moon 2023

Laphrodite's Guide to Mindful Menopause

Laphrodite's Guide to Mindful Menopause 

or the Adventures of a Baby Crone

An enchanting collection of midlife musings, moon magic, and meditations for mindful menopause.Over the last three years menopause has brought me to my knees. In this humbled position, I offer anecdotes, potential antidotes, and some not so common advice.

According to the Mayo Clinic, menopause is experienced by over 3 million women a year in the United States alone. What makes this book different is viewing menopause as a time of incredible spiritual growth and creativity, rather than just a physical experience that needs a special diet or more exercise.

The book offers concrete tools such as guided visualizations, meditations, and rituals to honor this significant passage in a woman's life. Rather than a dry reference book, it includes humorous stories, inspiring poetry, and juicy practices to experience mindful menopause. 

My Journey Through the Tarot

Back in November, I went to the Salvador Dali museum in Monterey, California. There were several lithographs of Tarot cards that he had designed for the James Bond movie, Live and Let Die. My husband and I talked about the movie, which I did not remember seeing. I know I read the book as a child, since I read all of Ian Fleming's work, the few available books in English available at the Luxembourg airport, along with Agatha Christie.

I didn't really remember the story or that there was a tarot reader in it, but I do remember being about twelve years old and going to London for the first time. We went to the large department store Harrods, which I had heard had an amazing toy section. I searched and searched for Tarot cards. They had many different playing cards and card games but no oracle decks. In the twelfth grade, I wrote an essay on the tarot, even though I had not yet seen, let alone touched a deck, cobbled from some information in the Random House Encyclopedia.

It was only in my early twenties, the summer I came to Santa Cruz, that I encountered the tarot for the first time. I was at a LBQ-BBQ up at UCSC, and one of the women had brought the Motherpeace Tarot by Vickie Noble. I was enchanted. I went down to Gateway's Bookstore the next day for my own set. About a year later, in 1988, I came across the Daughters of the Moon Deck by Fiona Morgan, which was then just a black and white deck. I spent about a year living in Idaho and during that healing time hand painted the deck with watercolors.

After I returned from the Global Walk for a Livable World, I worked at a metaphysical bookstore called Aries Arts for three years. We carried around seventy different tarot decks. I loved bringing them out from the glass counter showing people the cards, talking about the cards, learning about the cards. Then I owned my own bookstore, the Herland women's book-Cafe, we carried at least three dozen different decks by female artists. When the store across the street, 13 Real Magik, closed, they consigned all their decks to me so now we had around a hundred different oracle card sets. After I closed the bookstore, I began doing reviews for US Game Systems. They would send me decks and I would post on my blog. By now I had a lot of decks, so a few I sold, a few gifted to clients and quite a few given to local metaphysical bookstores.

I moved from retail therapy to hypnotherapy. I finished my PhD in Holistic Health. My thesis was entitled Journey Through the Tarot: An Integrated System for Holistic Healing. A comparison of the traditional Rider Waite Tarot cards to four modern-day decks (Daughter's of the Moon, Tarot of Transformation, Osho Zen Tarot and The Tarot of Transformation) demonstrates how the Tarot is an integrated tool for holistic health that offers insights for personal growth and transcendance through the use of symbols, archetypes, and allegories. It's a sweet little primer, check it out.

Then I took a class in Soul Collage at Cabrillo College. I set the intention to make my own deck of 78 cards which I call the Baby Crone's Tarot. About a year later, I wrote poems for each of the images which are now published as a meditation set.

I have been working on two other decks, one called the Tarot of the Banal which is photographs of everyday objects. The other is the Holistic Tarot which is a combination of colored pencils and watercolor focused on universal symbols. I also have a series of portraits. I've only done the Major Arcana but I think the Tarot of Kayla could be a totally fun project. I continue to take classes, most recently with Afefe of Touched By Tarot. It has been a long romance, yet I still feel like I've just begun courting the cards.

Blessed be.

Mystic Alarm Clock

Mystic Alarm Clock

Wake up at five a.m, notice

The neighbors bathroom lights

Through the bedroom window

Covers thrown back

Another sweaty night

Reflected in the bathroom mirror

The other neighbors’ backyard 

Colored fairy lights twinkle

Maybe there's a party

What if I walked over

 In my frumpy pajamas

They'd say

Hey hot stuff!

Going down the stairs

Street lights through stain glass

Cast ghostly rainbows

Shadows of crystals

Glow in the dark stars

Lead the way

Onto the cool porch

Only to be bathed by the

Fluorescent motion detector

Run into the kitchen, flip

The switch

Step into the yard

Sweat finally cooling on skin

Damp grass beneath feet

Sound of surf

Blissful love light

Full moon in Leo

Winter curtains open

To catch the first drop of sunlight

Curl up with green tea

A cat on either side

Watch the dawn

Listen for hummingbirds

The honking of geese

Right at eight a.m sharp 

Sunbeam pierces

My eyeball

Move the clothes pin 

Back into place

Time to start the day

Unconditional

Willing to experience aloneness,
I discover connection everywhere;
Turning to face my fear,
I meet the warrior who lives within;
Opening to my loss,
I gain the embrace of the universe;
Surrendering into emptiness,
I find fullness without end.


Each condition I flee from pursues me,
Each condition I welcome transforms me

And becomes itself transformed
Into its radiant jewel-like essence.
I bow to the one who has made it so,
Who has crafted this Master Game;
To play it is purest delight;
To honor its form — true devotion.


© Jennifer Welwood

Breaking Up

I'm breaking up with my cell phone. It has been a long, arduous divorce, but I'm hoping to transition into a more pleasant acquaintanceship much like I have with the fax machine. I'm over "till death do us part," or the warranty runs out.

It started innocently enough. I had resisted owning a cell phone for years. Loyal to my landline, even the archaic answering machine that sat brooding on the kitchen counter. My friends thought I was a Luddite.

Everything changed when my daughter was ten Suddenly I had full custody. My ex-wife was in the mental hospital, her partner was being hostile at best. It seemed imperative to have a mobile device. I bought a cheap burner phone for $64. The lowest pay as you go plan ATT offered was $24 a month for this particular electronic security blanket. The phone barely told the time.

Over the years I received a plethora of technological hand-me-downs as various family members took pity on me when they upgraded. At first, I simply enjoyed the luxury of having a decent digital camera, and found myself posting pictures online. Soon I became embroiled in the snarled web of social media - likes and dislikes, tweets and re-posts, comments and trolls, the ever elusive hashtag. I could spend hours curating images, watching reels, getting sucked into another video.

Worse, I discovered games. First solitaire, of course, but come on, who doesn't? It's built-in. Then multiplayer games: Farmville, June's Journey, Words with Friends, Seekers Notes. I was so obsessed I ended up doing three months of physical therapy to release a frozen shoulder.

Now it's at the point where I can't take a bowel movement without playing Wordle first. In the morning I reach for my phone before I reach for my husband, and then it is glued to my hip for the rest of the day. Chip can find out what aisle I'm in at Costco simply by geo-locating my phone.

And even though my phone goes with me everywhere, somehow, I'm always looking for it. Patting my pockets, peering into my purse. It has become a regular icon in my dreams. I'm lost in a strange city. The numbers are not working. How I get back to the hotel?

I've already started. First, I was gentle, deleting all the apps I don't use anyway. Next, to ones rationalized I could always access on my laptop. I had already lost interest in Pinterest and was bitter about Twitter, easy to let go. Then all the news feeds -  I'm done with the gloom scrolling. Finally, I said farewell to my beloved New York Times crossword puzzle and a kissed Sudoku softlygoodbye.

When I get home I'm moving it out of the bedroom back to the kitchen where it belongs, next to the pens and scrap paper. No longer will I jump at every chirp, click, or beep like Pavlov's dog salivating for virtual treats. No longer will I depend on it every time I have a minor wait while standing in line at the coffee shop. If I need to know the weather, I can always look out the window.

Like all breakups, it will be hard and uncomfortable at times learning to live without my electronic companion. I'm sure our friends will be divided. I wonder just how will I engage myself now.

Treading Lightly

 

I'm careful not to step on

The periwinkles by the front

Of the trailer while on my retreat

They seem so brave, so vulnerable

Little heads nodding in the wind

So easily crushed.

Yet they survive last night's hail storm

The fallen branch

Somehow better than I

Maybe it's their

“Tendrils of belief”*

Keeping them anchored

How do I unfurl

Trust the sun will shine again

And turn my face towards hope

*Quote from Adrienne Rich

Mortar and Pestle

I am the mortar, I am the pestle,

Grind, grind, grind

I am the mortar, I am the pestle

Refine, refine refine,

I am the mortar,

Container of the divine,

I am the pestle,

Force of the divine, 

Together we work,

Combine, combine, combine...

Thoughts on Birthdays

 

Thoughts on Birthdays 

My hubby and I are born one day apart, and our birthdays also coincide with our wedding anniversary, which always brings up the question, where do we want to go and celebrate?

As a kid we would go to Pizza Hut, but I liked the Orange Bowl pizza better. Then we moved to Europe when I was seven. I remember eating chicken soup with little stars and a tiny restaurant in Milan. We had fondue for the first time when the parents came to rescue me up from ski camp in France. Then there was the tiny preserved violet on top of the chocolate ice cream when we went to the restaurant in Germany, it was on the Rhine and you actually fished for your own trout.

We moved back to America when I was fifteen. In high school the big fancy dinners took place at Dominique's in downtown Washington DC, now closed. They used to have a sister restaurant in Miami which I went to once. They are known for their exotic fare, such as alligator and wild boar. Alligators taste like chicken, by the way.

Avanti became my favorite birthday restaurant when I moved to Santa Cruz, then became the monthly lunch place with Dad, who thought their food was very authentic. Avanti split into the pizzeria and the restaurant, moving into a second location which happens to be at the top of my street. Pizzaria Avanti has nettle pizza. Restaurant Avanti has a full bar. We started going weekly to visit our favorite bartender, Katie, and feast on steak salad and chicken fusilli. The new owners have a fried cheese dish that I could bathe in.

Maybe we'll go to the French Laundry one year. I've not really intrigued by their menu posted online, but it sure does get rave reviews as a unique experience. My daughter loved to go to La Fondue over in Saratoga every birthday, which is where we also celebrated her recent bethrothal.