Curate a life

sifts, sorts, curates

"Her hand circled around the old man's arm, the warm of the fleece fit her small strong fingers. The clutch was subtle, but a good eye would spot that source of tenderness. The women noticed. Only a small touch of turquoise crept from the edge of the warm jacket. It was enough for Others to recognize the Raven's vest. He was undercover."

A.A. Milne and E.H. Shepard, Author and Illustrator of Winnie the Pooh, all rights reserved by their estates.

We are awake. It is nearly midnight. Internal clockworks work differently these days. Whether due to The Virus of 2020 or the shifts of the physical, emotional and aural pathways as we age, there will be speculation; who really knows.

The pollens this spring are affecting me, differently. Red, scaly rash rises on my face in addition to the familiar symptoms. Several years ago I began eating and drinking Stinging Nettles to nourish me, and Pete, and specifically ask the Stinging "Spinster Auntie" for her support. Nettles are a long-respected and loved ally for allergies and asthma. Slow and steady building of our relationship. In much the same way that an artist's exhibition is a collection of works that are sifted through, sorted for the sweet mix and feel, or the 'voice' sought ... a relationship with Nettles (and a few other nourishing herbs and weeds) is curated.

My mug is empty, now. As I sat to write, the stout pink ceramic mug was filled with freshly-squeezed Nettle infusion steeped for seven hours in a canning jar of boiling water. A simple muslin bag allowed me to pour the infusion into a Pyrex bowl. In a familiar process of wringing the weeds dark goodness gives us a quart of powerful nutrition. That's what I was after when the rash and the raging histamines addled me. The muslin bag filled with the damp leaves I dabbed against the rash. Tomorrow morning Pete or I will empty the Nettles onto the ground for Purpza and the gang of Rabbits.

A mug's worth of the infusion heated to a mild boil gave me a steam bath. I inhaled deeply, turned off the burner, poured the hot liquid into the stout pink ceramic mug and added a good dollop of honey. Stirred through, I had the concoction for my midnight remedy.

Susun Weed writes about Nettle, in Wise Woman Herbal Healing Wise: "Old wives' stories ciculate of people who cured themselves of severe lung diseases with daily use of nettle. Try a half-cup serving of nettle greens several times a week for up to three months, repeated for several years, or drink up to two cups of nettle infusion daily for the same length of time. And ask yourself these Wise Woman questions: How is this problem my ally? What gifts does this problem bring? How can this make me, and the world, more whole?"

I'm asking myself these questions right now. When I remember to do this, instead of panicking from the symptoms I often end up here. Writing the medicine. Story medicine is something I practice. And practice. And practice. Story medicine, like all medicine is not exact. A bit of this. A dose of listening. Asking and listening. Staying open to changing the approach. Adding something else. A little magic. A bit of Raven.

The thing I remind myself of often? Don't try EVERYTHING at once. Keep it simple.

I wonder whether this season's pollens are more potent or vigorous? I wonder how this problem is my ally? The problem's brought me to the keys, with a second mug of Nettles and honey. Telling a story of this episode has brought Pete and me awake together: a gift. How can this make me, and the world, more whole? The difficulty humbles me, every time. I am a warrior in a small stout body of a  package. My approach to being a healthy warrior has been a long journey. It's that Black Lilith signature.

It helps to tell my story because story needs the light outside myself to breath. Openness. How might that make the world more whole? Sharing story, and finding a few (more) open hearts and minds in the whole world? Being unafraid to speak/write it. That is warrior. THAT is truly whole people's  medicine.

The opening paragraph to this post comes from a small, and precious private blog I created for a dear long-time friend and artist. The blog was called "Curate a life." Valuing friendships that sustain over time is one of the ways to know you have curated a good life. Lucky me to have such a friendship.


How do you curate your life, or, how are the pollens where you live?


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