week one
the seed
permission
welcome to the spiral
before we begin, there is something i want you to know.
i did not create this spiral because i have mastered what lives within it.
i created it because i need it too.
i am learning to give myself permission before everything else is finished. i am practicing rest without first proving that i have earned it. i am learning where my boundaries belong, remembering what brings me pleasure, releasing what no longer needs to be carried, and allowing myself to become without always knowing what i am becoming.
even while creating this first turn of the spiral, i caught myself doing exactly what i am asking us to notice.
i told myself i would sit down to this work after i had taken care of everything else.
but everything else has no ending.
there will always be another thing that could be washed, answered, finished, fixed, tended or crossed from the list before we allow ourselves to choose something that nourishes us.
perhaps you know that feeling too.
so i am not entering these eight weeks with answers for you. i cannot tell you what needs healing, what needs releasing, where your boundaries belong or what becoming will mean in your life.
what i can do is tend this space.
i can offer questions, ritual, cacao, rose, stillness, creativity and places to notice. i can walk beside you while you listen for your own answers.
some days we may meet the spiral deeply. other days, life will be messy and we may barely notice it at all.
both belong here.
we are not practicing perfection.
we are practicing returning.
there is nothing to prove here. nothing to perform. nothing you must become by the time we reach yule.
you have already arrived.
i am not standing at the center waiting for you.
i am walking beside you.
welcome to the spiral.
the seed has already begun
perhaps you waited to open your box.
perhaps you didn't.both belong here.
whenever you opened it, you chose a moment.
you began.
meet the five gifts
before i tell you anything about what you are holding, meet the gifts for yourself.
take them from the box one at a time.
hold them. smell them. turn them over in your hands.
which one draws you first?
which makes you curious?
does a word mean something to you before i tell you what it means to me?
what do you notice before anyone tells you what to notice?
permission is a curious thing.
we often wait for it as though it must come from somewhere outside ourselves.
we wait until the work is finished.
until everyone else is cared for.
until there is enough time.
enough money.
enough energy.
enough reason.
sometimes we even wait until we have earned it.
and sometimes we wait until choosing ourselves will not inconvenience anyone else.
until no one needs us.
until no one will be disappointed.
until nothing will be left undone.
but if our permission depends upon everyone else being comfortable with our choice, is it really ours to give?
but what if permission did not need to be earned?
what if it could simply be given?
not permission to change your whole life.
not permission to become someone new.
just permission for this moment.
to rest.
to want.
to say no.
to make something.
to be quiet.
to take up space.
to change your mind.
to choose yourself.
there is no particular permission you are supposed to find here.
only the one that feels true for you now.
what would you like to give yourself permission for?
wear
among your five gifts is a small rose of rose quartz.
take it into your hands.
you do not need to know anything about rose quartz for this practice. you do not need to know what anyone else believes it means.
for now, this rose belongs only to the permission you have chosen.
hold it for a moment.
perhaps say your permission aloud.
perhaps whisper it.
perhaps simply think it.
there is no need to make it grand or permanent.
the permission you need today may not be the permission you need tomorrow.
when you are ready, place the bracelet around your wrist.
let it become a small reminder:
i do not need to wait for permission.
i am allowed to give it to myself.
wear it when you want the reminder.
take it off when you don't.
nothing here needs to become another rule.
drink · infuse
now we make cacao.
there are countless ways to prepare cacao, and perhaps you already have one that belongs to you.
what follows is simply the way i invite rose and cacao to meet during our spiral.
pour your water into a small pot.
before turning on the heat, sprinkle a little rose petal powder across the surface.
watch it for a moment.
then begin to warm the water gently.
while the rose infuses, take one of your cacao roses and chop it into small pieces.
add the cacao to the warming water and whisk slowly as it melts.
i whisk clockwise — not because you must, but because for me it is a small gesture of moving with the spiral, carrying what i am tending forward.
sweeten your cacao if you wish. add spice, plant milk or anything else that makes the cup feel like yours.
there is no correct cup waiting for you here.
make the cacao you want to drink.
then carry it somewhere you can be with it for a little while.
sit with the seed
take your cacao somewhere you can be for a little while.
return to the permission you chose.
take a sip.
notice what is here.what becomes possible when you give yourself permission before asking anything of yourself?
perhaps you write.
perhaps you sit.
perhaps you wander.perhaps you do something else entirely.
this time is yours.
Karl Stirner arts trail - Easton, Pa