Sunday, July 8th, 2007

I can’t say I have entirely mastered the art, but I have found that taking care of oneself, that loving oneself, is revolutionary.

It seems like a little thing…an afterthought or a rebellion against a family in which one did not do such things. A phase in which we treat ourselves to something, or take a vacation. When loving oneself is not a phase or special occasion, ones life changes forever.

I think we get pretty caught up in focusing on the world because we think that is of better service. It is the hottest item on the new age agenda, and in most cases I greatly appreciate the intention. But I am afraid that if we don’t know how to take care of ourselves we are not going to be able to do a damn thing for caring for the rest of the world.

Perhaps we have postponed self-care because we think it takes too much money or time…but that is just a tactic of avoidance. Self care is simply an attitude of gentleness with oneself, and awareness of one’s own needs and feelings. It is born of little things.

The woman in the painting here is in the midst of brushing her hair. A little thing. However simple the action is, brushing my hair always feels like a ritual to me…cleansing and nurturing. I have made a habit of finding those things that nourish me, just for me, and doing them as often as possible, and with great consciousness. Having awareness and presence allows us to drink in the nourishment of an experience.

I like a cup of hot tea, or a cool drink on the porch. I like a walk in the woods near my house. I like a quiet moment (like the one I am taking right now) when I have been surrounded by people or activity. I like a bathroom with good acoustics for singing or a great cafe with a picture window to sit and write by. I like green coconut water. I like conversations with my beings. I like sitting in my garden and talking to my plants. I love being embraced by my love, and the bond I share with my cat and our three dogs.

I could write forever.

But this is because I have cultivated my awareness of what feeds me. So that even in the toughest moments I have something to go to, or to cull from, in order to be held.

Some of us are experiencing fantastic growth and blossoming in our lives with such joy and gratitude. Others of us are experiencing great heartache and suffering…just know that anywhere you are on the scale, this self-love and self care will be life-enhancing and of amazing spiritual sustenance.

And either way, start with the small things…and do them often. Buy yourself flowers every week, or go out and get a massage. Or give yourself an hour to write about your feelings right now. Or just go lie in the sun for a brief time and imagine that it is an example of the great love and warmth available to you at all times. Know that love and care is always there once we learn how to most deeply give it to ourselves.

May it bring you healing and incredible joy…
With Love,
Jennifer

Wednesday, June 27th, 2007

When I was little I would sometimes take one hand in the other and imagine it was someone else’s reaching out for me. I felt the unbelievable solace of self-comfort and it has been a refuge for me, in one form or another, all my days. I am blessed now to have the love of my life, our amazingly loving animals, and other friends and family members…but on the darkest of nights when I have had none of these, it has only been my own small flame keeping strong in the storm, and only my own company which kept me whole, and holding on.

It is my last night in Mexico, and I am contemplating the way it has touched my heart, and also broken it…as all places of any consequence to me seem to. I am thinking of Frida Khalo, whom I have always admired, and whose face I have been looking into endlessly, in so many forms, since I arrived here. Her paintings and photos are on everything from bags to jewelry, post cards, journals and clothing. She is an icon here in this town, as frequently seen as the Virgen of Guadalupe, and she is someone I would refer to as a saint.

Some eyebrows might raise at my calling her that, but only in misunderstanding of my definition of sainthood. For me a saint is not someone who does everything “right,” or follows a pious set of religious standards. A saint is not one who has lived only in selfless service, as honorable as that can be. A saint, to me, is one who has lived truly by one’s heart…wherever it has led them. A saint is one who must be oneself as wholly as possible, whether it brings them criticism or acclaim. For living truly by one’s heart is not an easy thing to do. It is the greatest work, the greatest commitment I can imagine. From that work all goodness eventually flows.

I think about the popularity of Frida’s work now, and of how she often scraped to get by while living. I think about her pain, as well as her love, and the art that was born of it. I think about the countless paintings she made…of herself. How she reflected, and reflected, and reflected, upon herself. I think about how she would send a painting with an invoice to a friend when she and Diego had no money. I think about the pride, or lack thereof, that that must have taken, and how almost everyone I know has had to take such steps at some time in their lives.

I think about that picture of her I have on my fridge and look at every day. The one that so captured me when I saw it…the one of her bright figure in the grey and dark New York which she so tired of. She was a flower. I think of all the people I know who are like that bright flower in a dark place, looking for the sustenance to keep going, and keep their light bright and the color in their heart.

I think about the painting here…the way that Frida holds her own hand, and even stops the bleeding of both of her selves. All of us have those moments where we know we have an open vein of some kind and life force is rushing out of us. We may find many different sources of sanctuary and healing, but one which is always with us no matter the circumstances is the hand within, and the friend within. Sometimes it may feel as distant as the farthest stranger, but if we can cultivate that love it will always sustain us, and always relight our small flame in the bleakest of nights within.

May your life be blessed with the greatest of inner comfort, and may you attain the sainthood, if you have not already, of living by the will of your own heart.

Love, Jennifer
San Miguel de Allende, Mexico