Have you ever been held by The Mother
Nestled in her bosom
melting into her womb
Embraced by her unconditional love
Have you ever been held by The Mother
surrounded by her Joy, her Sorrow
feeling the Moment
as One with The Mother
Being loved by and loving The Mother
Have you ever been One with The Mother
You are The Mother
She is You
Hold yourself like you would another
Hold yourself like The Mother
I know the holidays can be hard....
So here is something to ease your way...
I can't tell you how many times I have heard people talking about the struggles with food, with drink, with exercises, with the season, with allergies, and so much more. Also for many of us, this is a period of uncertainty.
I asked myself how I could help take more care of people. My name is Michael Forrester and I am an Ayurveda practitioner and a Traditional Naturopath. I have been in practice as an herbalist, care-taker, and follower of Vedic practices for over 10 years. To that end I offer an Ayurvedic Health Consultation where we have an empowering and revealing coversation that leads to inspiring action in one of seven pillars of health.
Those pillars are:
3. Liquids (water and others)
4. Movement and Exercise
5. Breath and Breathing
6. Mindset and Meditation
7. Your Inner perception and language.
These seven pillars form the foundation of your physical health and in our sessions we focus on one of thse at a time for a period of time in order to achieve the results needed. Our sessions are about results and change, not just ideas.
When you come and do an Ayurvedic Health Consultation with me for the month of December and January, you will get 2 sessions for the price of 1 (a $108 savings). To this end, you will leave with remedies, practices, and information to help you take inspired action and make lasting changes to your health and well-being.
Additionnally it takes 40 days to change a habit so if you decided that you want to buy 4 sessions you will get the same 2 for 1 discount to empower you during that 40 days focus.
Want to know more? Call me at 404.939.6499 and have a conversation with me. Together we can make sure that I am right for you.
Home is wherever my tipi is and I'm inside it.
My canvas tipi cover has mildew (sounds better than mold :) ) covering it completely. It started not long after it went up, late Spring of last year. I battled it at first, disappointed because I paid extra for the mold resistant canvas. I asked it to leave. I tried that for a while. At some point though, I realized it was a losing battle. I would lose. Eventually I just accepted that it is what it is and have ignored it.
As I sit watching the flames of the fire tonight I glance over the tipi wall. I start to see a beautiful pattern all over it, it looks painted in some lights, Jackson Pollock style with spatters and drops of olive green, brown, and sage colored paint. It looks like an animal skin in some lights, leapard spots, then a buffalo hide like a giant hand drum is surrounding me. Then it turns to tile patterns like a cavern wall of Hindu Gods and Goddesses. It's constantly changing and visually mesmerizing. I've had mostly negative thoughts about this cover since the mold started. What I've thought of as ugly and ruining my tipi cover, when you actually "see" it, is magical. It's what makes my cover unique, one of a kind, and unlike any other cover.
A huge lesson in perception.
We can consciously choose how we think, speak, and act. I get to choose how I want to see, and as a result feel about, my tipi. Perception can change by choice. By choosing to find gratitude... our perceptions (how we see and how we think about something) will change how we feel about it. Gratitude can bring happiness, contentment...peace.
I love my tipi. I am so grateful that I followed my obsession, that my husband indulged me, and that my neighbors are cool with it. I'm also grateful for chirping crickets, that at the moment sound like chirping birds.
In this moment, my overwhelming gratitude is making me feel overwhelmingly happy. We can all use more happiness, joy, and peace in our lives.
So I'll ask you, in this moment, what are you grateful for?
I've been sleeping in my tipi a lot lately. I just love Summer, the warm evenings. I relish in it, listening to the cicadas, the crickets. I have one chirping inside the tipi right now. I saw him earlier in the evening as I lit some candles.
I'm reminded of the first time I slept in here this Summer. I was awakened by the sound of an animal inside my tipi. I'm imagining a raccoon, opossum, or a big rat. I found the headlamp I am using for writing and scanned the inside. I didn't see anything. Then, there was a describedly cartoon like, little bump moving under my numerous floor coverings. (I'm a Taurus...I like luxury :))
I started lifting items on the floor to happily discover he was under the tarp. When he came out from it at the edge of the tipi, I saw him. A tiny, cute, barely a tail mole. At that moment I'm sure he could hear my thoughts because I heard - "Hey ! You're in My house. How would you like it if I crashed your house and decided You had to go?! You are in my world and I want us to live together. That is why we're here. To learn how to live together - All of us!"
I heard him.
A few hours later, early in the am, after he kept me awake for much of the night, I was sitting around the fire pit in the center of the tipi and heard something again. I turned around to find him right behind me, looking up at me as he was about to dip under the tarp..."So, are we cool?", he asked. I said yes. He introduced himself and I started calling him Charlie. He darted away under my floor. My Earth and fabric and rugs and blankets floor, and Charlie's tarp.
When I put the tarp down in the Spring I noticed a few holes in the dirt. I thought, well I'm hoping you are not a snake. Don't misunderstand me, I love snakes. I love finding a black one under my tent as I pack it up. I love the image of the Kundalini Serpent. I just didn't want to discover a big unknown snake in my bed.
Charlie and I have been cohabitating well. He stays on the dirt and hasn't set foot on any of my stuff, living part of his life underground. There's a much bigger lesson on the underground, like the concept of levels, simultaneous lives, the lower world, and so forth... but I'll save that for another writing :).
I haven't bothered Charlie and he hasn't bothered me, other than when he is keeping me awake :). This morning he was the most annoying little mole, making a lot of noise, going in and out of the tipi. When I sat up and watched him for a while, I realized he was running in a counter clockwise pattern, weaving in and out of the tipi. Still staying on the dirt part of the floor. He slowed down for a few seconds, walking along the the outer inside edge of the tipi. I thought to myself, he is not the slightest bit afraid of me. I guess because he learned quickly that he didn't need to fear me. Sometimes fear is a good thing, a natural, in balance instinct to keep the body from harm. Our instinct has unfortunately become a way of being in our culture, fear driven and operating from a place of fear. Violence is everywhere, some people are not able to meet their basics needs of food, water, and shelter, and we are bombarded with it - the images, the information, the fear driven everything we are immersed in right now on this planet. Our natural instinct to protect the body, to survive, has become manipulated. We are a fight or flight culture. There is a difference between protecting the physical from physical harm and protecting the mind from hurt. One is an Ego driven fear, one is a simple instinct.
Yes, I hear some of you hard core Yogi's saying ..."well then you are fearing death, the body is not important." YES, it is !
It is a gift to be here. We are responsible for loving and taking care of our bodies. Don't take your body for granted. Don't take this life for granted.
I realize as I write this that it is very late and I feel as if I've been writing for hours, but I haven't. I'm still outside in my tipi. No Charlie's yet tonight. I hear the crickets, I hear buzzing bugs. I hear a very distant dog. I hear fast cars or maybe a motorcycle echoing through the pine trees next to me. I hear the gurgling of my pool skimmer, of leaves and pine straw brushing as they fall against my tent. I hear the question that started this writing.
"You're hearing, but are you listening?"
I'm putting down my pen now, so I can listen.