The Stream Knows

"Just keep flowing" she tells me

This sleeping rock seems undisturbed by the water rushing around her.

Dear Readers,

How is Kapha Season treating you? I’m not gonna lie, it’s been pretty uncomfortably funky over here. I realize that many of you might live in a sunny, dry climate or are just entering fall in the Southern Hemisphere. But, stay with me. Hopefully, there will be something for everyone, weather aside.

I recently realized that when I’m waxing poetic to you about loving winter, I mean early winter. That is, a cold and dry winter. With all of this Vata in my body, cold and dry by nature, I should welcome the damp that comes in late winter and early spring. I do not. Damp weather, at any time of year, makes me very uncomfortable. Maybe it’s because my body intuitively knows that too much dampness can lead to imbalances or disease. Ditto, too much dryness. At any rate, dressed appropriately, I’ll take 10 below and dry weather over 30 degrees and bone-chilling damp any day.

I don’t ever remember having a Kapha imbalance like I have this year. Knock on wood, I’ve managed to steer clear of colds, etc., but the chilly, damp weather has me really working to stay warm. Ginger, ginger, and more ginger!

I have felt stuck in the mud, as I often describe the unbalanced version of Kapha dosha. Remember, you don’t need to have Kapha (or any dosha) dominant in your constitution to have an imbalance there.

I’ve also been thinking a lot about the fact that I have such strong Taurus (Moon and Rising) energy in my astrology chart. Taurus is a fixed earth sign, and it reminds me so much of Kapha (earth and water) in Ayurveda. My astrology friends and I chat a lot about how the signs and the doshas relate or don’t relate.

If you know your moon sign, this is a beautiful article highlighting each sign.

I once mentioned to my astrologer that I had mostly air and ether in my Ayurvedic constitution and very little fire or earth. And yet, I have very little air in my astrology chart. My fire sign Sagittarius placements (always seeking answers) find this fascinating and want to know why!

To top it all off, speaking of astrology, March was, and April is predicted to be, quite challenging months this year - both for us individually and collectively. Many days, I stop and think, “Is this energy mine?” Whether it is indeed mine or entering my field from “out there,” it has seemed heavy lately and needs extra attention.

I think that we all need to give ourselves some TLC.

Think about what grounds us and gives us Joy. Lean into those things as we navigate the coming weeks, months, and perhaps even years.

On a personal level, my ability to create has stagnated, and I know a shift in my visibility is looming. It excites and terrifies me equally. I have successfully avoided video for what seems like forever, but I know that it’s eventually going to have to happen. Says the Turtle.

And so, recently, on a rare 60-degree, partly sunny day, I did what always shifts my mood: I went for a walk in the woods and visited Gone-Away Pond and Stream. (Full disclosure - I gave them that name.)

I needed to talk to both of them.

I’m not kidding, when I met this Pond and the Stream into which it flows, something magical shifted in me. Most people might not give them a second glance.

Gone-Away is a simple little pond. Not as large and famous as, say, Walden Pond. But she spoke to me, and continues to speak to me, each time I sit with her. And her adjoining stream.

I like observing them equally in each season, but mourn a little when the biting bugs prevent me from lingering in late spring and summer.

For the first time since winter began, my sit spot on the Pond has reemerged.

I love the rocks as much as the snow, the ice, and the water.

The earth tones calm and literally ground me, and I feel that Joy that starts to rise inside when I’m out alone in Nature.

Gone-Away Pond is all stillness and white now, covered in soft ice, surely not safe enough to step on.

The wind blows a single golden Beech leaf across her surface, and for a moment, she is the sole resident on the Pond.

And yet, underneath, Gone-Away is anything but calm, as her rushing water makes its way below the snow and ice, headlong towards the stream.

I realized that morning that I’m constantly writing to you in my head every time I venture into these woods. For the sake of getting more writing out of me and published, I know I should bring a notebook. Goodness knows I have enough blank and half-filled ones lying around the house. I should take notes. Get my thoughts down. Or turn my phone on and record them.

But I just want to soak it all in, disconnected from technology and even a notebook. And so I hope that I remember the magic of it for you.

I needed to go visit the Stream and ask her for some of her wisdom. How could I get myself out of this funk?

She didn’t speak out loud to me, but all I had to do was watch how water always finds a way. How unstuck she is.

The Stream knows.

She weaves around the rocks that are in her way, taking different routes, intuitively choosing a course. A direction. Skirting here and there. Rushing or just flowing - but always always moving forward.

Well, sometimes during a summer drought, she dries up, too. But a good, hard rain from the heavens gets her moving again.

Without Gone-Away Stream speaking a word to me (well, I do hear her beautiful sound - one of my favorites in the whole wide world), I receive her message:

“Just keep flowing.”

“Keep moving forward. Even if it’s a slow movement.”

“Some days, stillness is the medicine.”

We humans forget that we are Nature. We are the elements.

Fire, water, earth, air, ether.

I see the water, and I see the earth. The wind is gently blowing, and ether (space) is all around me.

I don’t see much fire here today. But, wait! There’s the Sun, blazing bright against a blessedly dark cobalt blue sky on this unusually warm early spring day. And so I look up to say a silent “thank you” to him, and what do I see?

White stripes that seem to intentionally block the Sun, and spread a sickly, hazy white in their wake. I feel a hot anger rising. The fire element in me. I can’t help myself. I am so tired of whoever is messing with our skies.

And so I turn my attention back to the cold rushing water.

I start to sing The Water Song, and I swear the big giant Eastern Hemlock that is one of the guardians of Gone-Away Stream starts to bow down to me, gesticulating with her delicate branches in the most beautiful way. She is dancing with the Wind. It made me laugh out loud with glee.

It’s the same song that I sing to the Spring every week when I go to get my drinking water. It’s the same song I sing to the Pond.

It is my humble gift to the Stream, to the Trees, to the Sun, and to the Wind. Thank you for taking me out of my funk today. You are my greatest teachers, and I love you.

I find myself leaning so much more into my moon and my rising sign of Taurus, than into the fire of Sagittarius, even though I know deep down, I’d like to be in that creative fire.

My creativity has been so stunted. I wondered the other day if I can even call myself an artist anymore. I tried to make something for a friend recently, and it was a disaster. Not at all what I had intended, and I felt another layer of confidence around my art dissolving.

I’m hoping it comes flooding back.

Moving like the stream.

Rushing, creating.

As I head back toward the path leading me home through the woods, I hear the sound of the Eastern Phoebe for the first time since last year, and it makes me smile.

Oh! There’s the first Robin that I’ve seen, searching for worms in the water-drenched ground.

The birds are returning.

Nature Heals.

Water always finds a way.

And we do too.

Thank you for being a part of my little community here.

So Much Love,
Barbara

P.S. I had finished this post and was about to record it when I took a break and checked my email. Holy Synchronicity!

First, an email from Patricia Tate of Willow Grace Astrology with a link to this video:

For all the years that I’ve spent in learning mode in so many different modalities, I’m always grateful when someone else shakes me out of my funk with their wise words of encouragement. Help from the planets seems to be on the way. If you don’t care to watch the video, here are a couple of gems from it:

Frustration often appears right before we have the clarity. And irritation, it often shows up right before the boundary is formed between us and somebody else.

What is this feeling trying to show me about where my true energy belongs?

A mantra to say:

I am moving forward with courage, guided by wisdom, aligned with my purpose and grounded in trust.

—Patricia Tate

I know this to be true in my bones, I always do. And yet, time and again, I forget. The frustration of being stuck before a big change happens. Before creativity bursts forth again. TRUST. I love this mantra so much and will be saying it over the coming days and weeks.

And…this synchronicity made me laugh because of my reference to Walden Pond at the beginning of this post, and my not taking notes while out on my wanders. I admit to feeling a little shamed by the dedicated and prolific writing habits of Henry David Thoreau. Here’s an excerpt from the documentary on PBS. I just started watching it.

What do you see??