Intend to Mend
Many years ago my husband named every new year “The Year of…” whatever. Usually, it was business-related so years were christened "The Year of The Sprout" or, "The Year of the Micro Green".
I decided to approach this year in the same way for myself. After the year we've had - I've had, undergoing cancer treatment for Triple Negative Breast Cancer - I started to play around with "The Year of Health" or "The Year of Healing", but it didn't resonate with me. It seemed so similar to other years when I’ve wanted to “regain my health” which was code for “lose weight and stop being such a loser”.
See, I’ve often associated my weight with my success. I recognize intellectually that exercise is related to my feeling well. Science proves it. Beyond weight loss, exercise improves mood.
Six months post-chemo, I’m feeling very well, all things considered. I am as patient as possible with my body. It’s gone through so much this year. I see photos of myself from four years ago when I was running half-marathons, I see photos of myself from five months ago when I was deep in my chemotherapy treatment, and I want to cry. What a difference between the two. What a difference between the Now Me and the Six Months Ago Me. I'm not sure which Me I am right now. 2020 was surreal.
Six months ago Me, July 1, 2020
My body continues to heal and repair. As one of my wise daughters said, "Just because you're done with chemo doesn't mean you are done with cancer". Excellent point. My surgery was clear and the radiation is complete. Now I'm in the waiting and watching period. I will get "there” wherever "there" is. But right now I'm here. "There" looks stronger. "There" feels more flexible. But maybe I’m already “there” if :there: is stronger than I was six months ago. I increased in strength that one doesn't gain in the gym. I long for the strength of my half-marathon days. That past and future seem a long way away.
Yes, slowly but surely I need to be patient in getting "There". The only way to get "There" is to Be:::Here:::Now.
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I saw a magazine article recently on visible mending and now I'm obsessed. Are you familiar with the concept of visible mending? The concept is that as your clothes get holes or frayed with wear and tear, instead of hiding the repair, you feature it. It’s similar to the concept of Kintsugi, the Japanese ceramic technique, where broken vessels are rebuilt with gold adhesive to feature the repair instead of hiding it.
Visible mending seems so contrary to our American mentality of hiding the bad stuff and focusing on achievement, or the goal of winning. We say we value process over product but we don't seem to allow people compassionate space to run, fall, rise, and fail unless they emerge victoriously. Then we celebrate the win. The World Record seems to matter more than the personal best.
I've fallen into that trap for most of my life. That mindset has torn me apart. I don't want to do it anymore. So I've decided to frame this year as The Year of Mending. The dictionary defines the verb to mend as 1) to repair something that is broken or damaged 2) to return to health: heal 3) to improve. I desire restoration. My holy soul longs to be stitched back together slow and strong like shattered bones.
I got to thinking of how I have literally been sewn back together sometimes. Between the childhood accidents where I needed to get stitches, to my C-Section and lumpectomy, and all the holes in between, I have been mended; surgically, back together by a healer.
It’s going to take time. I freak out about time, knowing I have a limited amount of time on the planet, often concerned that it's running out. I gotta work on that freak out too.
It's going to take an internal, mindful revisiting of the abandoned places in my heart and head. Like a pair of worn socks, I choose to mend instead of chucking myself and replacing myself with a new improved version of me. I'll care. I'll look deeply at the holes in my heart. I'll see what it takes to weave myself back together, treating myself more preciously. I'll look at myself with pride knowing that I'm not exactly back to factory settings, but proud that I took the time and heart to make myself whole instead of leaving the hole.
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We all had a hard year. Between all the opinions about COVID, racial violence, politics, vaccinations, the election, the isolation, fear, economic uncertainty, there has been so much apprehension, it’s been exhausting. It can be hard to look forward and see or believe in bright and gay days. The holes are part of us. This can be a year for mending all of it.
But this year, I need to be the healer. I need to be the mender. And it is a process, just like the mending of clothes or the mending of bones.
I need peace and to remember that I am a gorgeous beautiful thing.
You need to remember that too.
We all need to mend.
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In addition to visible mending, I'm also currently obsessed with this Bill Withers Song, "Can We Pretend". The guitar work is exquisite. The song is a total sneak attack - simple in its presentation but complex in its message. I think it's so appropriate for this moment. My favorite lyrics say, "Can we pretend, the pain is gone, and go our merry way? Paint a portrait of tomorrow, with the colors bright and gay. "
I know it can all feel so lonely and hopeless. I don’t want that for you, though it is inevitable. Know that I am with you, and whatever concept of God - Infinite Love - you ascribe to - is with you, lifting you up and out of the darkness into the light.
That’s what this season is all about. Longer dark nights, short light days. But we always return, cycling back to the light. These dark days provide us with lots of time to rest and dream. The new year allows us to shake off the experienced and to embrace hope.
Whenever you need a lift, find some sun to warm yourself. Imagine it entering you. Fill yourself with light. Play some good music. Find something to fix. Take the time to fix it. Focus on the blessings. Gratitude is a balm. Reminding ourselves of all we have is a balm. Light, good music, gratitude: all of that is healing.
Let us visibly mend. In our next cycle, we become something more beautiful, more colorful, more bright, and gay.
Happy New Year
Ready to Live
I don’t know if it’s the Mid-Life or the Menopause, or the Cancer my time is Now.
9 years ago I wanted to kill myself. On the outside, everything seemed amazing - 16-year marriage, adorable 4-year old twins, a new business - a certified organic farm that supplied the San Diego area with fresh, vital, healing fruits and vegetables - and a recently remodeled home in a desired San Diego neighborhood. Our parents and siblings were alive and thriving. We had a supportive and loving community.
Everything seemed WOW.
It wasn’t.
I wasn’t.
I wanted to die.
Next month I’ll celebrate 9 years of continuous therapy with a wonderful psychologist.
Let me tell you, I have come a long way, Baby.
For the first 3-4 years, I was paralyzed with fear. In Spanish, we say, “Que diran?”
What would *They* say?
My life was navigated by Them. What They would say, what They would think.
I lived my life navigated by Their approval and opinion. I walked a very careful line. I didn’t want to sabotage our new business and the employees who depended on us, by saying or doing the wrong thing.
Because of my history, I thrilled at the consent and attention I received from Them.
I started a side hustle with a Network Marketing business because I loved Loved LOVED the products and wanted to share them with people. I promoted pretty quickly and then I stalled.
Why?
Because I was so worried about Them and what They would think and whether or not I could keep Their Blessing.
After our farm closed in 2017, I stopped running my side hustle as well. I recovered from the death of the farm - of that dream and all the things I thought I was going to do and be because of that dream.
I had wanted to kill myself six years before and with the closing of the farm a huge part of me died.
For two years I nursed my wounds and replayed the story and held a pity party for myself. I wondered and I raged and I mourned. Why? I thought I was doing God’s work. I thought it was my mission to help, heal, and serve through that business. I had received that mission, to help, heal, and serve, directly from God. So WTF, God? Why give it only to take it away?
After two years, I felt ready to tentatively step back into the world after being in hermit mode.
I didn’t know exactly what I was going to do, but I had always been a good writer and promoter of health and wellness and spirituality and inquiry and examination.
In November of 2019, I made a Facebook Live announcing that I was going to write a book - or something, that I was returning from the Land of the Lost.
And then on December 12, 2019, I found a lump in the 1 o’clock position of my left breast. As soon as I touched it I felt an electrical crackling run through my body. I knew it was cancer.
Again I asked God, WTF?
I got mad again! I was READY! 2020 was going to be my year!
But God said, Not Yet.
I had to get lower, obliterated, broken, I guess. I had to get to the point where I was out of my own mind and body and only able to fall completely into His hands.
I had to get out of my own way.
I spent months, lying in silence, eyes closed, barely breathing, listening, letting the light lead me out.
Show me the way. Light the way, Lord.
After wanting to kill me, all I wanted was to live. But really, capital L Live.
I didn’t think I had been playing around before. But with my mortality in my face, taunting me, I realized I was so much more ready to Live, on Spirit’s terms, listening to what Spirit had to say, looking for God’s approval.
This is all to say, I’m restarting my side hustle.
Why? Because 2020 hasn’t turned out the way any of us thought it would. Because I can, in the middle of all this, run a business. Because I love the products. Because I believe they help.
I look back at pictures of myself when I had gone through about 3 years of therapy. I started to believe in myself. I didn’t quite love myself yet. But I started to believe I *might* be worth loving.
I had started my side hustle. I was surrounded by positive people who had a vision - both at the farm and in my Network Marketing business.
I was strong. I was vital. I was full of Light.
I want that again. As a matter of fact, that’s why I started *this* IG account Whole. Healed. Beauty.
I want all the pieces of myself - my body, my mind, and my spirit - healed and whole. I recognize them as beautiful.
I want that for me. And I want that for you. I want to recommend products and books. I want to inspire and encourage you to reclaim your health and beauty and to become whole.
Message me to learn more.
Walking Season
It’s Walking Season for me now. When the weather turns and twists like a Mobius strip I seek out unfamiliar paths and trails like a dog digging for new scents.
Walking is listening to God or myself or silence. Those three are a Holy Trinity to me: distinct and one in essence.
Walking is time to think and disappear in my breath remerging to that Inner Wisdom-the Holy Spirit.
The Holy Spirit seems hard to hear in pleasant weather. Sidewalks buzz as cars speed past. Trails are packed with throngs of hikers, unruly dogs yanking at the ends of too-long leashes, athletes competing against invisible adversaries for new PRs.
To hear the Holy Spirit requires long distances and solitude to discharge the mind from the chains of daily requirements and release the body sapped by the stiffness of the bed or desk or car. To hear the Holy Spirit requires solitude.
Here, my eyes lift to observe the cacophony of clouds. With that expansion of my chest and throat, I breathe deeply from the physical exertion and the rhythmic walking.
Many of us haven’t walked or worked or worked out free from music or podcasts or news in eons. As we listen, our mind, like a crammed drawer, continues to fill with the sounds, sayings, and thoughts from others. Our brain relentlessly chunks the input into categories.
When do we give our consciousness a rest?
Walking Season helps.
Winter, with its calamitous weather, encourages us to stay indoors. We want nothing more than to get cozy on the couch and binge a show or devour a book. But that tumultuous weather, as long as it isn’t dangerous, is a choice time to get outside.
The difference in climate unhinges your body. That jolt scatters the cobwebs from the brain like a wind before a storm. The charge refreshes.
Now, the clothes you choose are armor; a thoughtful moment of fierce self-care. How will you prepare yourself for this difference? What will you carry in these moments? These moments, this choice, might be less easy than your current comfort zone.
Will you require pure wool layers to keep warm and dry? Water-proof shoes? A hat and scarf to insulate yourself from drafts. Layers for the moment when your internal furnace peaks? A windbreaker or water slicker to protect yourself?
Will you require a snack? A warm beverage to hydrate yourself? Gloves?
Now we choose a path.
We may have to drive to it. It may be as simple as stepping out of our back door.
We choose a path. And we start.
In all likelihood, you’ll share the path with similar seekers. This path in inclement weather, in discomfort, the path of extra effort, is rarely crowded.
Without the interference of the outside world, you’ll hear the sound of your weight on the Earth.
You’ll hear the sound of the Earth bearing you.
Feel the lengthening of your muscles. Feel the loosening of ligaments, and tendons. Notice as your stride takes shape. Sense the way the air travels through your nose and mouth.
Are your eyes dry? Is your nose wet? Are your fingers numb with cold?
Find a hill to exert yourself on. Has your pace quickened with the anticipation of reaching the top? Or have you slowed to ascend deliberately? Do you consider your next step?
How is your breath now? Can you soften it? Can you steady it? Can you smooth it like a stone?
Look around…is there snow on the ground? Is it light and powdery like hope? Is it dark and dirty like despair? Does a wind surge through trees? Do crows creak and caw among limbs? Do tattered leaves collect at trunks? Do the last grasses rebel?
Have you shaken the overwhelm? Can you allow yourself to be?
Allow your mind to wander. Do you feel wisdom sparking? Can you hear the whisper of the Holy Spirit?
Where are you? How far have you come?
Stop. Look back.
Wonder. Marvel. Appreciate.
Your head may be bowed at oncoming rains.
Persist.
You may be buffeted by winds.
Proceed.
Or you may find that you traverse an area of calm and stillness. In that stillness, you may find solace. In the silence, you may find spirit.
Be there, now.
Be here, now.
Do you feel?
Do it in the early morning, watching the fog melt.
Do it when a nearly full moon rises, large and leisurely as dough, in an indigo sky.
Do it at dusk, when most of Creation is huddled at home.
Reach out, taking up space, fanning your arms above and around your head. Clasp your hands together, over your head, and stretch from one side to the other. Fold forward and touch the Earth. Wiggle your toes. Tilt your head to one side, make a half-moon stretching toward your chest, and lifting back up into your other shoulder.
Put one hand on your heart and one hand on your belly.
Here, now is your prayer, your mantra, your affirmation.
I am here, now.
I am present.
I am.
This is your present; your gift to yourself. This moment away from the needs of the obligations and duties and bonds returns to you the most precious commodity, time.
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Thanks for reading!
You have slowed time. And Now, Here You Are.
Spiritual Season
The Autumnal Equinox is behind us. Days seem shorter as the night creeps into day.
School has resumed. Hours are filled with projects and deadlines and rehearsals, practice, and homework. Fewer daylight hours make the time feel cramped and tight, like pants that no longer fit. Yang rages. Yin comes.
This season of darkness signals a shift. This is a time to look inward, a time to decide what to do with the things, relationships, occupations nearest to us. A time to ask and discover, what still fits?
With cooler temperatures and night coming soon, we will spend more time indoors. We may change into more seasonal clothing. We may crave different foods, drinks, diversions.
Look around you; in what condition is your home, pantry, closet?
In what state are your relationships, activities, fitness?
In what condition are you to travel around the sun once more?
Have you sat still long enough to notice?
This is today’s Monday Meditation. Keep a journal nearby.
- Set a timer for 20 minutes.
- Find a comfortable place.
- Settle in. Take a five deep breaths. Count up to 4 for the inhale. Pause. Count down from 4 for the exhale. Notice how your body begins to relax and settl.
- Imagine a scene from nature. You walk along a path. Large rocks soar above and along the path. As you stroll, notice large trees reaching toward the blue, cloudless sky above you. The tree branches resemble fingers stretching toward the light. Leaves the size of plates, colored amber, persimmon, burgundy, and light green, drift sleepily around you. Your feet step peacefully among the fallen leaves. A light breeze caresses your face.
- Imagine yourself as a tree, solid and regal. You slowly lose your leaves. What does each leaf represent? What burdens do you shed? What unnecessary things fall easily away?
- Witness the leaves and what they represent with no judgment. Note if some of the leaves cause you distress or anxiety. Observe your feelings without blame or guilt. Let your spirit guide the process instead of allowing your mind to dictate what or how things should be. If you feel agitated as certain thoughts come up, return to your breath counting by four on the inhale and exhale.
- After the timer goes off, imagine returning to your body. You walk along the path, peacefully, enjoying the stroll.
- Become aware of your surroundings. Slowly open your eyes.
When you emerge from the meditation, pick up your journal and write for a page. What came up for you? What did some of the leaves represent? Unfulfilling relationships? A stale job? Wishes for more? Increased fitness?
Write down the things that came up for you. We will continue to explore this shedding.
Until next time,
do well
be well
xoxo
Lucila
What Would You Do Now?
Following a decade of my life where I was involved with co-creating a working row-crop farm called Suzie’s Farm in San Diego, through a very public and viral Facebook Live video, we closed the San Diego location to public tours due to financial struggles.
The public response was surprising and caused me tremendous anger, resentment, and panic.
My ego fumed. Where had all those distraught people been when we struggled at the Farmer’s Markets when we needed CSA clients when we hosted public tours and events?
Busy living their own lives, of course.
When we closed the farm, my distressed ego tangled like a plastic bag tangled in barbed wire.
What would I do now?
What would I be, now?
I?
I?
I?
Now?
Now?
Now?
Like a record on repeat, people asked me, “What will you do now?!” and I had no answer for them.
My ego chorused backup, “Yeah! What will you do now?”
I had no idea.
A decade on the farm had allowed me to create and craft a carefully honed Persona of Me. It was clear. I knew my role. I played it.
Obviously, parts of that Persona were me.
I desired to feed people, encourage them to get back to their roots, eat well, support organic farmers and local businesses, learn to grow their own food, heal their bodies, minds, and spirits through communion with the Earth, connect and create community.
I homeschooled our children, was vegan, and a promoter of a simpler lifestyle.
Our motto had been Cultivate, Educate, Inspire.
I was still down with that.
But now what?
After years of being The Farmer, the mouthpiece trotted out for photo shoots and interviews, I had become less that farmer and more of a caricature of The Farmer.
Who was I, now?
In my frenzy and sorrow, in my agitation and my fear, in my lack of confidence in myself, I began to ask people for ideas.
When they asked me, “What will you do now?”
I replied with, “If you were me, what would you do now?”
Answers ranged from Start a Podcast, Write a Book, Become a Life Coach, Tour as a Public Speaker, to Start a Retreat Center, Consult, Play Golf, Get Drunk, Get High, Get Hired.
Most of these things seemed reasonable and logical; the correct and natural next step for a woman of my experience and vision.
I panicked at the array of choices. Each felt like a definite possibility, worth of my skills, an apt fit.
I wanted more than apt.
I was a mouse in a maze. Any path would take me somewhere, but where was the route to the Big Cheese?
My concern? That time would run out; that my Fifteen Minutes of Fame would pass. Worse, that it had passed, and that no one cared anymore.
You’ve made your impact, Lucila. Thank you very much. Now can you step aside? And hurry, please. We’ve got someone younger, better, more important, in touch, savvy who is next.
Ouch.
Deep in an ego-driven daze, my spirit retreated, shielding me from the outside and from the inside.
I could not hear her.
I could not hear Me.
And the things I was telling myself were not helpful. That panic, the chaos, the unruly, prevailing ego, only added to the daze.
Operating from a place of fear ain’t it. Leaping, blind, from chaotic thoughts, ain’t it.
What am I going to do now?
The best advice came from Sam, one of our loyal farmers. To the question, “What would you do if you were me:” He answered, “Nap. Eat breakfast. Take baths. Go for walks.”
Huh.
I slowed to an almost halt in order to hear.
Nap.
Eat breakfast.
Take baths.
Go for walks.
What the February?!
It was a 180 from all the other advice. so simplistic and yet, so hard.
Slow. Down.
I dare you right now if you are reading this (skimming this), can you slow down?
Can you?
His advice gave me permission, to rest, to restore, and to discover. To learn, as I found later, for the very first time, to discover myself.
OK. Maybe not the first time, but for the first time in a long time.
I took time far away.
Friends and family, places I used to go that brought me pain, I would not face.
I took 2 hour long baths and 20-minute baths.
I read books and felt the water melt from scalding to cold.
I hiked along the beach, in the valleys, in the desert, and in my neighborhood, stopping to admire flushes of new growth among the geraniums and rosemary after persistent rain, observing the light against the sheer cliff walls and the sounds of waves and birds over the water.
I ate breakfast, sometimes rushed and standing, stuffing leftover pieces of bread in my mouth, sometimes sitting down at the table with a candle and placemat and saying grace.
I slept in.
I went to sleep early.
I dozed on the couch.
I took me almost two years to restore to original factory settings.
Hmmm….maybe, not original factory settings. Maybe Lucila 2.0. Maybe the latest and greatest update, removing the bugs and ticks, optimizing the App that is Me.
What am I going to do now?
The surviving remnant from those two years is the sense of loving myself.
The journey is not over. I know the destination now. I am better prepared. I know what to take and what to abandon., what I am willing to carry and what I must release.
My destination is Joy, whether it flickers or beams.
Consider this an Almanac or an Atlas, a Guide to getting to your one true destination: You.
Through this blog I will be your guide, your permission giver, as sojourners and aliens, into this new land, revealing, stripping back, baring the veneer you have built up over your life until You emerge.
