Roses...the art of life

"Where are the songs of Spring? Ay, where are they?

Think not of them, thou hast thy music too,-

While barred clouds bloom the soft-dying day,

And touch the stubble-plains with rosy hue" John Keats

It is that time of year when we transition into the cold and darkness of Winter. In the garden that signifies many things. Recently my dad and I pruned a multitude of rose bushes. Well he did, expertly, and I was his novice student. He is known for his beautiful roses at home.  My dad has a true green thumb, and spends many hours in the garden. I have been known to be not so handy in my garden travails allowing many a plant to meet an all too soon demise. So  it was with a newfound curiosity and desire to learn the art of green life. 

The pruning allowed us to observe the sound of the gentle rain in the garden. The quietude and stillness made this experience truly enjoyable, coupled with the crispness of the cooler afternoon air. Over the summer, the roses had provided me with hours of glorious scent, of delightful colour. Now, in the waning into true Winter, watching them take their final bow towards their ephemerality was true beauty.  It reminds me of the cycles of life and death, allowing the full nature of transformation to be present, from the arrival of the first blushing bud until the last of the petals fall.

I have been contemplating my new instructions to rose pruning and feel that these lessons may also apply to life. Surprisingly, over the past few weeks, I have given this advice to people who are searching for the ultimate rose pruning. Here are my dad's guidelines on how to prune roses, wonderfully advised in his gentle tone of voice, filled with patience.

Cut away the old flowers first.
Start with what you can see easily and cut them away.Take off the old roses, the leaves, in order to see beyond the wildness of the rose bush. Take time to look at the plant and see how it is structured, instead of being in the midst of the plant. Step back and have a look at it from all angles until you can see the whole of the plant and get to know it and what shape it might take.  
Not to be too hasty at the start when we haven't truly seen what shape it is we would like to develop. Give it the space to allow it to unfold. Being patient that it is the first step in the process and it may not yet be clear what to do next.

Cut away anything that is growing on the inside. We are looking to make the rose bush circular. 

Cutting away the branches on the inside. Some looked so lovely that I didn't want to cut them at first. They were not part of the roses plan to grow into its envisaged shape. Such as when things look beautiful on the surface, but they do not serve us anymore and we need to let them go. They are not for our highest purpose, and may lead us into thorny situations in the future.

Cut away anything that is crossing over into the middle of the bush.

This step entails cutting away that which has grown over what needs to be bare. Cutting a branch that will later interfere with the growth of a stronger branch...a healthier one. In modern times, we often have so many things going on, and not always enough time to have clarity on all that occupies us.  To cut away those things in life that cross us, that keep us "busy" and "doing" and that stop us from breathing and Being. "At this deep level we can then create the life we want especially when all of our "branches" are going in the right direction. We can harness and maintain our energy by being clear of what our intention is.

Prune to a third of its original size. Making a firm cut just above a new bud. This might seem a lot, but roses like a good prune (It might look harsh) They will grow back. And flower.

To me this last guideline is all about trust. A third? Really? It seems a lot. Apparently so. 
There has been many times in my life when I have "pruned" my life. Just after it is done, I have had a feeling of slight discomfort, tinged with regret: "oh, perhaps I trimmed too much-it looks so bare and empty". To me this stage is knowing and trusting new opportunities will enter a vacuum. The roses need it in order to grow anew. And amazing opportunities often replace what had been removed.

Winter is a time of introspection, of shorter days and longer nights. It is a wonderful time to observe what is going on internally and make changes that suit us on a deep level. We benefit from this time of introspection to gain clarity and scope out possibilities for the time ahead.

In life, we need to create space, especially if life feels too full. On a physical level, when we have an internal empty space, it can fill. The breath fully exhaled creates a vacuum in the lungs, creating room for the next inhale. We can then trust the new breath will enter into our body easily. We can surrender fully to this breath as it enters at a profound level.
When there is emotional space, it too creates room for the new, whether it be new romantic love, friends, hobbies, a new passion, or something old that is new again. We cannot always do this from a place of busy, overwhelm or overflow. Creating space for new growth. It is a time for searching what makes us happy and excited and what makes our hearts glad.
Space and release on a mental level is needed too. It is the basis of meditation and mindfulness. It is the clearing out of old thoughts, of becoming aware of what our thought space is doing. New thoughts can arrive, creating feelings of aliveness and inspiration. We benefit from this deep level of surrender. Of lettting go, and feeling into the next transition. Knowing that we will be supported. "Leap, and the net will appear".

Gardening together was a beautiful experience. Metaphorically, it is great to get a perspective on one's own life by a person we trust. Only we can make choices and decisions regarding our inner lives. However, discussion and advice can assist with how to "prune" ourselves in the best direction, and with the most amount of love.  

So in the midst of this chilly Winter, there is hope and trust for the Spring whilst acknowledging that it is still a deeply inward time... a feeling of waiting for the next growth to appear and to be filled by new delights. And the beautiful anticipation of the scent of roses filling the air with joy.

xx

Flow- in staying out of our own way...

“If I can get out of my own way,

If I can be pure enough,

If I can be selfless enough

And if I can be generous and loving and caring enough

To abandon what I have and my own

Preconceived silly notions of what I think I am

And become truly who in fact I am

Which is really just a child of the Universe

Then the music/sound/voice/flow/movements can really use me

And here lies my fulfilment

That’s where the flow starts to happen”

J.McLaughlin



This was my personal objective/mantra/aim for the concert on Sunday.....How to stay out of my own way. It was a feat. A triumph on a deeply personal level. It was a true testament to my mental, emotional and physical wellbeing as well as a deep trust in all that is. From all accounts it was a success. I received beautiful feedback, and it felt good.


Using all the strategies I speak of with my clients, I entered into the space calm, with minimal adrenaline, resting more with the nestles of the parasympathetic nervous system than in the popularised pep up of "go get 'em". I know I felt deeply connected to all that was around me, and felt definitively in the zone. I was connected to the breath, and to myself. I did not abandon myself once. I allowed myself to rest fully with my psyche, and the space I was residing in. The inner critic did not rear its ugly head, and the weight of judgement was nowhere to be seen within my heart. In that moment, I was completely blissed out, in love with all that was.


In this space, I know I could have resided for ever.

Thanks to all who came and supported me throughout my process. xx

Power of Ritual

"A ritual cannot be created; it grows in accordance with the need to make meaning" N.Hall

"Everything in nature, the sum total of heavens and of earth become a temple and an altar for the services of God" Hildegard Von Bingen.

Deep breath, Melanie Weidner, 2005

Ritual of 
coffee
naps
daydreams
meditation
goodness
generosity
eating
looking at the moon
stretching
dancing
singing
breathing
being...

Ritual heals and celebrates and brings the microcosm into relationship with the macrocosm. (Matthew Fox)  As I contemplate these ideas this morning, I am aware of how one uses rituals to make oneself at home to bring awareness and familiarity to the day. I awaken, look out the window at the day (today's sunrise was spectacular), stretch, breathe, remember my dreams,  put the radio on, put the coffee machine on, and on it goes. Some of these rituals are common to many, some are common to self only. A ritual can deepen when we do it consciously, according to Woodman. 

So I wonder if we keep up these rituals if others around us don't? How strong is our need for it? Are we able to miss a day? In ancient times, rituals were how we survived and gave meaning to life...honouring the seasons, nature, the weather.  We would have harvested at certain times, the animals would have been at a certain watering hole, the tides would have been at a particular level. These days, our rituals do not mean that we die if we do not do honour them. At least not on a physical level. Our biggest ritual may be opening a bottle of wine at the end of the work week.

I love ritualised experiences. I grew up feasting on religious ritual and song. Marius Schneider is an ethnomusicologist. He states that most public ritual is accompanied by music and song as it was in old. Even the football grand final has a musical prelude.  Rituals used to be secret. There were the rites of passage for both males and females. Even the alphabet used to be secret apparently. People still die to this day standing up for their religious beliefs and rituals. 

Tea tree lake, Sister's beach, Rocky Cape National Park, Tasmania

Deep feminine is about ritual, magic, eternity, altered states of consciousness, art, music, lunar cycles, intuition. Ritual is also the primary means by which people get their inner houses into order, both at an individual level and as a community. One of my friends spoke of a beautiful Sri Lankan ritual of allowing prosperity into a new house by over-boiling milk onto the stove. 

How do we set up our lives so we can honour the ritual of our lives? Our society rewards those who have "been busy" not necessarily those who have been deep in reflection without 'anything' to show for it. 'Daydreamers' and 'slacking off' come to mind. Often our modern life is, on the whole, highly structured. In the past, my creative flow has felt stifled at times by the rigid set up of modern day. How many of us would like some days to not face the world, instead finish writing that poem, or song, nap or daydream rather than head off to work. I know many creatives whose lives are mixed between "day jobs"  and a few sacred hours of inspiration at the end of the working day. In such a patriarchal society, the deep feminine, or creativity is not often revered. I had a client say to me recently "I thought what you did was B-S at the beginning, but now I know it works. You are awesome" Yes, breathwork and technique is magic. So is being aware of what we are doing. 

Hildegard von Bingen wrote that "authentic ritual helps us find our inner selves." Lately, I have been exploring the deep feminine in relation to caves. I saw a beautiful river that had etched its way through the honeycomb cave last week. It furrowed in unusual ways. The water had found a way through the seemingly impenetrable structure, little by little making a path for itself that was sustainable and which supported its flow. This would have taken hundreds and thousands of years to achieve. It reminded me that nothing is permanent, such in the Buddhist teachings and knowing on a deep level that all things change with time.

Honeycomb Cave, Mole Creek

That is how I feel I am restructuring my world at the moment. Etching out a new course. It requires more structure, but of the kind that supports me on every level, whilst giving the flow the space, and the breath, to move and change course. I am grateful for this new possibility. It also provides hope that the flow can be a force powerful enough to facilitate change through what seems rock-like substances. Something I perceive as dense and solid might shift with time and persistence of flow.  

Whilst in Vanuatu this year, a ritual unexpectedly arose. Routine combined with an unexpected aspect of song resulting in a magical experience. After an operation, unplanned, the whole medical team walked behind a patient's trolley, wheeling him back to the ward. There were many family members on the ward who were singing beautiful songs of their home and hearts. Their melodious voices floated up as if carrying us all on poop'ed wings. Returning their brother, son, child, future elder back to the tribe after surgery. It was a procession of sorts. A handing over. It was honouring, moving and greater than the individual sum of its parts. I was moved, and the occasion was marked as unique and special. A sign of the great feminine. The kind of experience that gives one body shivers. The power of ritual.

xx

Breathing: death, as part of daily life

"Life is pleasant. Death is peaceful. It's the transition that's difficult." Isaac Asimov

"Death is but a door we open and pass through" Targett

I met a woman yesterday who was seemingly startled when I spoke of death. There is a great deal of artwork at Mona that describes death, transitions, new life. We were speaking after such a tour. She had seen more setting suns than I have, and was (possibly) closer to the door than I. Though one can never tell, and I suppose this is part of the questions that we ask in life. How do we address the theme of death? When our whole body is "exposed to the Golden Wind" (Free Play) How do allow ourselves to transition between relationships, jobs, thoughts, dress sizes, emotions, birthdays, cities? Are we someone who hangs on, can't let go, or someone who is onto the next project without a second thought. I heard once that how someone leaves a conversation is how they leave things in much of their life. Do we wave goodbye long after the car has disappeared, are we still crying over long lost love, or do we transition so quickly we forget to thank the person who had served us at the deli?

Transtitions. They can promote rejuvenation on all levels for all senses. When it is done with grace it can be highly refreshing. Transitions mark our society: Some are celebrated and honoured, such as marriages. Some have been forgotten, such as a Levi-Strauss-esque pubertal Rite of Passage. So, how do we celebrate our transitions. I went through a period last year where I bought mini-champagne bottles,  and I would celebrate something at the end of each day that had happened. It was a profound way of acknowledging that it was a day to be celebrated, and a transition marked. Otherwise, many occasions would not be honoured. It allowed me to contemplate an achievement for the day, no matter how small, for in the marking, it allowed me to honour the significance for me.

We transition daily through many aspects of our lives: On and off public transport, in and out of our emotional heart, out of the past into the future and sometimes in the present. How do we find grace in our transitions? Some may feel as if we might never recover or make it throught the transition. It is well documented that most humans do not like change. We know this from our own experiences. Even is something no longer serves us, we may have a tendency to hang on to it, as it is familiar, however not entirely comfortable. Yet, as humans, we are highly adaptable to change. 

Breathing is a constant transition between the conscious and unconscious. Breathing can be a metaphor for receiving. How able are we to allow something into our being, our body, our psyche, and how are we in turn able to let it go? "Expiration" or out breath is also known as a little death. Do we fully exhale before we commence the new with an of inhalation? We get thousands of opportunities to explore this each day. A reason why mindfulness meditation is so fantastic, as we get on average 12 opportunities a minute.

Surrendering to the power of the exhalation, and deeply trusting that the new inhalation will arrive. Our new inspiration. Waking every morning, in the realisation that we have breathed unconsciously whilst we were asleep and then being "inspired" by the day to come. How often in a daily working week do we feel this inhalation as we arise in the morning? Sometimes it is the exhalatory sigh at the end of the day that we notice more. And indeed that could also be a metaphor for where we are in our lives, and what transitional aspect we are in: Have we made a change that feels amazing, or do we know that we need to make a change and have not done so yet. And for some it is the fact that they have been shallowly breathing all day.

According to Woodman, "Most of us keep our breath as shallow as possible because the eruption of feelings is too intense if we inhale deeply". How and why do we keep our breath shallow? It takes a great deal of effort to put in place such a controlled pattern of breath.

Now, I am not a fan at all of the words "breathe deeply" as I know it sets up all sorts of strange body patterns, known to trigger the adrenalin system when we raise our clavicles upwards. I use a great deal of visual imagery: I like a "long and low" breath invitation where we can allow our pelvis and belly to expand. If I say to a client that they are holding their breath, or not breathing, they usually reply with a "Of course I am breathing, otherwise I'd be dead!" The transition to the out-breath is one of release and surrender. It is a path that needs awareness and intention.

Helen Sharp from the BodyVoice Centre speaks of the capacity of the breath to be "curious about entering the body" I love this idea, and have felt it in myself that the quality of the breath changes deliciously. I have seen it in turn with countless clients, where the quality changes from gasping to allowing the breath in. 

Breathing also plays such a role with our  adrenalin system, and in as much our "nerves" Helen Todd in the novella by Amanda Lohrey states "And the nerves are also there because you get tempted to interfere all the time. There's this sense of trusting yourself and keeping out of your own way. No matter how good you become, you can still get in your own way".

How can we breathe, sing and perform all whilst getting out of our own way? Complex. I do not know the answer in its entirety. It is also dependent upon each individual, their history, their body, their emotions. One of the keys is the ability to surrender. To let go.  And then to receive the inhale. To be with all aspects of our body and our breath. To reside within the spaces between the inhale and the exhale. For there "by some alchemy, we drop into direct mystic participation in aliveness or being itself, which is beyond emotion, skill, thought or imagination" (Free Play)

Sound Intimacy

"Music and sound influences our perception of the world. At this juncture in time, music, among other things, needs to point to nature - the un-built spaces on our planet. One of my goals as a composer is to create music that point to these places. My weird compositional process involves extensive "fieldwork" where I seep myself in these places. Overtime, my ears, like eyes acclimating to a dark s

pace, gradually tune into the sounds and fluctuating systems that define these places and a certain intimacy is gained. This acclimation time and gained intimacy is a key component to my compositional process and reinforces the music I compose. When I return home from "fieldwork" I will use the collected "artifacts" to render a music that points to these place, amplifying their imperceptible resonances and rhythms." Erik DeLuca 

I love this quote. I love that Erik deems fieldwork and deep resonance with nature as important in the creative process. Somehow I feel that is validating my current artistic process. I remember being sent it from a dear friend whilst I was reading "The secret teachings of plants" by Harold Buhner. A remarkable book that speaks of heart energy and how plants can teach us to be more engaged with our own bodies. Yes, it may be a little left of centre for some. It speaks of our nervous systems and how we can "tone" the parasympathetic nervous system. It has been recently discovered that the heart has an energy all of its own. It is separate from our neural network. So how can we combine both and have the brain waves sitting atop the heart waves for the ultimate in inner peace and creativity? A true combination of mind and body and our emotions. Especially in an age where the adrenaline system (aka as "busy") is seen as King. 'I'm bringing the parasympathetic back' is more my mantra.

Today I went on a little adventure (not of the adrenalin kind). It was down to Fossil Cove. I attempted to walk the trail yesterday only to be stopped a third of the way down by a strong force. I made a recording at the junction, becoming swamped in mosquitoes. Mother nature knows my relationship with her beloved mosquito and I is fraught, and so I retreated back up to the car, attempting not to itch. Kind of like not throat clearing after you have a cold, or been overusing the voice. It always makes it worse once the itch has been scratched....better not to do it in the first place.

So second time lucky today. A steep decline through gorgeous bush area, with lush vegetation, signs of animals and birds everywhere. I came to Fossil cove and it was beautiful. It reminded me of the french "Falaises d'Etretat" made famous by Monet, which I visited 20 years ago, but on a smaller scale. And much more remote, clearly.

Fossil Cove, Tinderbox

Falaises d'Etretat, Monet

The tide was becoming low (I had checked as I certainly did not want to not be able to re-traverse the water). Initially I was able to walk the fossilised ledges and discover small inlets, small bays and small cavernous areas. The area under my feet was ancient. I wondered how many people actually had stood in this cove. A few hundred? Maybe more. Still pristine. When the tide lowered some more I could make my way under the overhang and adventure to the other side. 

Listening to the waves, the roll of the water, noticing her feel; her stillness and sometimes her strong movement.

Just being with nature, sitting a while in contemplation. Noticing the small sea creatures. Finding small cave-like areas where the resonance would change and shift. Knowing from experience now that if it is still damp there is a better chance of it resonating.  Singing. Breathing. Making sound. Being silent. Listening. Being curious. Exploring. Being Queen of being present, and noticing when I wasn't (often the mosquitoes distracted me...)

Buhner talks of the breath in the city "The breath cannot be taken in deeply in such places, it rises shallow and short in the chest. The heart is racing an rapid, then it is thunder muted and soft. Like a tiny bird seeking release, fluttering desperately inside the chest".

I notice the difference in the ability to breathe here. The ease with which the inhale arrives and how the deep surrender of the exhalation can occur. Helped by being in proximity to the trees and vegetation and the ocean. I feel my body can let go inch by inch into something new and wonderful. I am planning on resting deep and anchoring all that I have done into the Earth and continue with this intimacy of "fieldwork".

Daily practice ritual

“Fortunately the practice involved in working with form is not just hard work. It also helps us to relax, give birth to new qualities of being and realize new inner freedom. 

The more a musician practices his instrument, the more fully and freely he can express himself, without having to struggle with the limitations of technique. 

Through his practice and devotion, he masters not just the technique, but more importantly, himself, developing the inner confidence and sensitivity that will allow him to interpret music in a masterful way.

This frees up our energy to explore new areas, to cultivate deeper qualities of our being and see how to bring these more fully into our daily life.” William James

Daily practice is such a chore isn't it. We know we should be doing something every day. But what stops us from doing it? There are always many many reasons. It can start off so well, and then....

I set regular practice as part of my speech therapy programs.  I do tailor the amount of home practice according to the individual. I ascertain how much they are likely to do. It is a much better to feel we are fulfilling the practise than never achieving it...Reminds me of my clarinet practice when I was younger. 30 minutes felt like an eternity.

When my clients return, I can tell when they don't tell the whole truth about their daily practise/home program. Some are honest about it and state the many varied reasons why it was not possible to achieve it. Some reasons are perfectly valid and some are veiled as our attempts to sabotage ourselves from improving. I see myself as a "barrier-remover facilitator". I work out ways to see if the practice can be incorporated easily: in the car, while the kettle is boiling, in the toilets...(yes, there). And every little bit counts towards a real improvement. Slowly, as the barriers are removed, change can occur.

I had a conversation this week with a new friend, where we discussed the fear of success is often more daunting than the fear of failure. And so it may seem many times that we stop ourselves from doing something for fear we might actually improve. It is almost as if we say to ourselves "Well, what then? What if i am successful?" A delightful sensation to explore when it arises and find where our true resonance lies. 

This fear of success can happen to anyone, yet many creative and sensitive individuals I know, both personally and professionally, seem to run into these barriers earlier than others. Success means we need to make ourselves vulnerable, and this can be emotionally confronting, perhaps terrifying!

Brene Brown in her "Ted" speech talks about vulnerability being the key to successful relationships. (If you don't know about TED, do yourself a favour and check it out!")

'Relationship' also being the one we have with ourselves. How do we keep honest with ourselves, connected to our truth and our desires, as opposed to our ego's desires or those around us, real or imaginary? This is where daily practice can come in. It reminds us of where we have been, where we are, and where we want to be. In a mindful and clear way, it engages us on all levels: mental, emotional, energetic and physical.

I have often read the above quote. It inspires me to consider my daily practice. And consider it again. I used to have it on the wall for several years as a constant reminder of where I was heading. My intention: Semi-supine, vocalisations, voice exercises, body awareness, mindfulness, master of my emotions and thoughts. It inspires me to be more of a musician. More of a craftsman of my vocal instrument, exploring all it can do, pushing it to its limits. Not just range or volume, but also in its flexibility and uniqueness. I am always finding subtlety and nuance in what it can do. It surprises me constantly, which is a beautiful feeling. And only achieved through experimentation, improvisation and play.

After a ritualised daily practice, I seem to find I am able to tap into that connected feeling more organically. It seems that I am then able to be more spontaneous throughout the day. It enables me to be more present. More available to myself. 

Mastering the craft, I know this as the place where true possibilities arise.