Celebrating Shamelessness

"Dartmoor Pony near Haytor" photo by Orion Trenshaw-Leggett

Embracing Natural Intelligence

"This is a trickster moment in history,” the wonderful Martin Shaw asserts as he contextualizes the role of myth and story in our time. And it HAS been an extreme time of quickening.  It seems like it's all falling apart. But like Arundhati Roy shares:

"Another world is not only possible, she is on her way! On a quiet day, if you listen carefully, you can hear her breathing."

And like this breath, and the flow of stories and myths shared, genius lives in the margins… betwixt and between. From the edges, as I digest the deep beauty and wildness from the last 5 day Passionate Presence retreat Diving in Deep here in Devon, I am stuck by how our access to wilderness within and without is our confirmation.  Through time in nature, it confirms our natural intelligence.  Through dance, it clarifies our deep knowing. Through creative expression, it connects us to each other and the greater web of beings and life. We are broken open to the vastness that lives inside. And on an incredibly mundane level it simply cuts through to what is real and raw and authentic. How efficient.  How truly sustaining and sustainable.

This is not necessarily easy, but it IS very simple. And these insights feed the community in which we live. Powerful myth, I am also reminded by Martin, also feeds community.

And that leads me to recount the mythical story of Tatterhood*:

In the story of Tatterhood, the King and the Queen who cannot conceive seek fertility counseling from the Gypsy mother who lives on the margins of society.  They are desperate and so they resort to the margins.

In this symbolically rich story the Queen does indeed conceive and become pregnant after following strict instructions to take the bed outside and sleep in the woods. She also must bathe under the stars and return her bathwater to the earth.  And she must eat the white flower that grows from this watering and magic making. She eats the white AND the red flower as she cannot resist and it has consequence.  Of course it does.  It is a natural process and it is a myth.

The queen gives birth to twins.  And from between her quivering thighs, Tatterhood emerges first, riding a goat, covered in a furry hood and carrying a spoon raised and begging for food from the moment she emerges. Her sister comes second. She is fair, blond and exceedingly beautiful. She is also cooing, compliant and quiet. These sisters experienced many adventures and transformations. And what is most moving to me as I experience this story as if for the 1st time is the partnership between complementary forces; wild and tame, raw and refined, agitation and calm, masculine and feminine, fierce and passive. The deep love between the sisters allows space and the deep embrace for wildness, shamelessness and natural intelligence to arise.

The twins are inseparable. Together through adventures and courage, they create wholeness in each other and support each other’s fullness. They are without shame.

And when the 2 sisters at the end of the story have a joint wedding, Tatterhood's deep and utter beauty is at last revealed by simply being seen for who she really is by the masculine. Her goat becomes a stallion, her spoon becomes a magic wand and her hood becomes a feminine bejeweled crown.  And this "shameless" wild "creature" is even more beautiful than her lovely twin sister.

So here is to getting confirmed by deep wilderness. And here is to wisdom that lives betwixt and between. And here is to being broken open to the vastness that lives inside us all, and sustaining and feeding our communities. Just listen closely in the stillness of your heart, and you can hear her breathing without shame.

*Note: A Special note of gratitude to the amazing beings who made the Diving in Deep retreat such a powerful week, and to Martin Shaw for his highly skilled wholehearted sharing of story and soul at the Consciousness Cafe January 26 at the Barrelhouse in Totnes as a part of the Transition Town Totnes Movement.

for more information on Passionate Presence Center for Creative Expression offerings see www.ktrenshaw.com

The Dance of a lifetime

My dad died just over 18 years ago at this time of year. I realize that qualifies as a lifetime ago.  And rather poetically my son managed to be born on exactly the same day that my father died. We come. We go. (No pun intended.)

And every year at this time I think about my dad and these 2 juxtaposed life-altering experiences. Death. Birth. And what I am struck by this year is another favourite memory of my father…and how he may well have had a part in my deep love of dance. I don't remember where we were when this happened. I am sure it happened on several occasions. I can tell you we were somewhere in the Midwest United States in the late 60’s or early 70’s. 

I CAN remember the sensations and smells so clearly. The swooping feeling. The giddiness and grinning from ear to ear. The movement made my dark auburn curls sway back and forth. And then there was the dusty wooden floor and faint scent of women’s perfume and men’s shoe polish. The thrill and delight and ecstasy of feeling safe, supported, and cherished. My huge giant of a father waltzing me around the slightly dull worn oak dance floor with grace and ease and delight.  And light is what I felt… both a physical weightless quality and a giddyness as well as a kind of unstoppable radiance beaming from my heart.

It's the little things that matter.  And as I remember and still grieve my father, this little memory brings me great joy in the deep dark grey of winter. So always remember dads, cherish your daughters.  Let them stand on your shoes and dance them around the ballroom while you still can. The  grace and beauty of that dance will last her whole life long.

Epic Bubbl

Full-size image

Illustration © Melanie Winning 2011.

The Wellcome gallery on Euston road, London has wonderfully curated exhibition of Mexican Votive paintings. At the end of the show, the curators invite viewers to contribute an experience they would like to see commemorated in a votive painting. I wrote a brief description (see below) and was touched and moved when I was contacted by illustrator Melanie Winning explaining she had used my story for a votive image. She also described how moved some of the viewers are and how touching it is.  I am very touched to see Melanie’s interpretation of the energy of that experience.  It feels very resonant and “true” as an authentic response to a heart being broken open into fullness. Thank you Melanie. 

I would like to give thanks for the beauty and poignancy of my lover who died in my arms while we made love.  He was young and fit and healthy.  It was a rather new love so remains in a perfect trouble free bubble. He died of a massive heart attack, so I did not know he had died so much as...well..I thought he was just blissed out and happy and resting....having a tantric moment.  The gratitude is not for his dying.  That has taken me years to get over. The gratitude is for the grace with which he passed and the beauty of this experience for me.  There was a huge blessing in being chosen to midwife this powerful passing... and for it to be without any constriction or pain. I will never be afraid of death and this experience, in many very real ways, gave me my life back in a much more vibrant and whole and real way.

Katheryn Trenshaw, Devon, 3 am Good Friday 2004. For Nigel and my son for his great patience for me at this time.

http://www.wellcomecollection.org/whats-on/exhibitions/infinitas-gracias/inspired-by-your-stories/contemporary-votives-gallery/votives/epic-bubble.aspx?view=epic-bubble

Belonging and Longing for Home

December 16, 2011

"Nothing lasts forever, no-one lives forever. Keep that in mind and love."

- Rabindranath Tagore

Somehow we've arrived here again at the doorway to the holiday season. For me, as an ex pat, this has a whole other layer. For instance: Since I've lived in Europe, I've come to appreciate the fact that this “holiday time” is extended to about 2 weeks versus a couple of days in the United States. This takes getting used to…still! Mostly this lengthened time is a very sane phenomenon where people gather with friends and family, feast, get stressed out intermittently from familial patterns, then go for long walks on Dartmoor and genuinely gather in around the hearth.

I have lived more away from "home" than I have lived in my country of origin. I recently was in Mexico and discovered that Our Lady of Guadalupe is the patron saint of immigrants. This symbol of radiant feminine force is everywhere! I was very touched by this as I come from a long line of immigrants. We are called aliens, nonnative, outsiders, expatriates and foreigners (from Latin alienus ‘belonging to another'). The archetype of Jesus as an "alien" baby is traditionally celebrated at Christmas. We are touched by this image of vulnerability of this young family who seek refuge and long for belonging.

I live in England and not a day goes by where people don't ask, "Where are you from?" They presume I'm a tourist. I've lived in England for 21 years and 25 years in Europe. "Where are you from?" Becomes a really interesting question. Where were you born? Where are you did you grow up? Where did you go to high school? Where did you go to university? Where have you lived the longest? Where do you consider home? What does your passport say? What does your other passports say? These question all generate different answers.

Generally, at holidays, I'm away from my family. On the one hand I am saved from the stress and familial patterns that arise that most people endure over this time. On the other hand, I miss my family, I miss my long-term friends who are scattered about the globe and most of all I miss my culture and all of its associations at this juncture in the calendar. There are things that are awful too… in each culture. Don't get me wrong. It's not the hyper-consumerism I miss for instance. It's much more subtle than that. I'd love to say I'm immune to this romantic association I hold. But as I approach my late 40s, and all these years of living "away from home" I have surrendered to the fact that culture runs deep and it's more helpful to understand what's happening than to try and make something contorted of it.

And this year there is an extra layer on top. I have led a privileged life in many ways. Sometimes I forget this. But this year I have a constant reminder. A dear acquaintance of mine who has in fact been my my main masseur for over 20 years is dying. I have had the luxury of experiencing some of the best bodyworkers from around the globe. And this friend, who's only 68, is the best there is. He had a toothache that wouldn't go away and by the time he got to have the tooth extracted, he discovered that his body was riddled with cancer. The prognosis is bad. His choices are limited. It's only a matter of time now. And isn't that also true for all of us? Whether we have cancer or not. We all share the same life-threatening illness which is birth. Life is a sexually transmitted disease.

And how do we all live well until we die? I know that for those of us who are tending to this friend's needs in our own unique ways, this is very stirring. It gives us pause. It gives me pause. I, more than most anyone I know, have lost many friends and family. Each time someone near to me is facing death or has died I am once again given the opportunity to consider how I'm spending my time and my disposition to this life.

So if, at this holiday time I feel loss because my family and friends are far away, I can take succor in the fact that there is simply discomfort happening. I do not have to make the problem. And as I feel into what is happening there is a wonderful thing that happens. The feeling that arises generally gives way to another, and another, and another. And when I bring this awareness, and stop trying to push the river, deep peace is all that I am left with. “Nothing” is what I am left with. Blissful whole true emptiness.

And when the search is over, like from my friend who is dying now, I am reminded that my impermanence is the gift that keeps on giving.

"Where are you from?" is still an interesting question. "Where are you from?" I'm from right here in as I am. I am dying. I am perfectly imperfect. I am home. Who can I reach out to and offer a sense of belonging and home and love?

Happy Holidays!

Yoga of what is

Having moments of calm in the midst of what seems to be some sort of existential crisis. Missed my yoga practice today AGAIN...Have not done much exercise in these last few challenging weeks... pitifully little. And yet, I had an inspired remembering moment standing outside of the locked Center door: I remembered to simply go about my numerous tasks as a yoga of presence practice. And I succeeded from time to time.

This is much more helpful, powerful and sustainable than all of my normal coping strategies.... that and to keep noticing what is actually happening and then, only then, considering actions that need to take place.... all the while focusing on how rather than what I am doing. Its a dance.

Right NOW, and as a direct result of remembering this again, I am loving THIS that is actually happening. It is sunny. I have "failed" to get as much work done today as I had hoped and done other things with great zest and joy. My son comes back in a few moments and I have no idea what I will cook. Oh, that is not true...I bought fresh scallops on the market today as well as bass fillets, fresh green beans and luscious French lemon zest and corianger dressed olives. The sun has been glorious and the grass I sowed is actually coming up all fresh and green in spite of the over hard soil from winter mud and clay content. The goldfish are beautiful under the changeable cloud specked sky like a mag

magnificent movie installation.

What's more, all 5 chickens produced an egg today. And I am clutter clearing and spring cleaning.

Here is a slice of my life today.

Living this has a simple effect of opening my heart.

Simple.

Mundane Magic

I am eating the most amazing brunch all of which comes from my wonderful garden. Perky miniature fresh salad leaves of about 15 varieties along with chives create an oeuvre of color at the side of my orange and blue plate. The eggs I collected fresh and warm from the chickens lovingly called the collective "girls" are mixed with fresh rosemary and herbs. All this topped with Devon goats cheese and a bit of salsa prepared earlier from a jar. Magic!

PS Just so that all good things are in balance, I am also drinking the most exquisite coffee which comes from far far away ( Dubai in fact) which I bought on a stopover on the way back from India with my son in January. Lest anyone think I was too "good" in terms of carbon footprints in the sand, this should take care of that.

Be What you Are

"I remember lying in bed as a young teenager and deciding to hypnotize myself by saying these words: Be what you are, be what you are, be what you are. I said it hundreds and hundreds and hundreds of times, the intention being to protect me from what I felt was going to take me away from myself. And to this day I still say that when I think I'm trying to fit somebody else's expectations."

- Kay Ryan, 16th Poet Laureate of the United States

How do we remember who we really are? It is funny since we are born knowing this very clearly... and slowly but surely, the forgetting begins. We learn to adopt attitudes related to what would be, could be, should be rather than what is. And forget some more.

And now that I am a mother, I am even more keen to return to source and re-unite once again with this BEing quality that not only remembers but never even forgot. A cohesive radiant wholeness that just is.

I want this for my son. He has taken to commending himself lately when he does something well by simply saying, "I am awesome!" and sweeping across the room into one of his graceful judo rolls. I want him to hold this when it is true and also celebrate him in it. Equally, I wish for him to know sadness when it is happening and feel it with equal vigor. That is less simple somehow...especially for a boy child. And we are both returning to the inspiring words of Kay Ryan to Be what we are whenever we can.