10 | 7 | 22 The Edge of Your Sweet Spot
Be water, my friend. —Bruce Lee
Several mornings this week the temps were cool enough to produce my favorite seasonal effect at the river--steam fog. It's the harbinger that cooler weather is on the way.
The spring-fed San Marcos river is a constant 72°. Which, on 104° day, feels incredibly bracing, refreshing and rejuvenating. So it stands to reason that when the air temps drop into the 40s, 72° would feel downright shocking. Yet it doesn't. The cooler the air temps get, the more like bathwater the river becomes.
This realization that the river always meets you with what you need happened on the first really cold day late last fall. Over the year I've thought about this a lot and how this sweet spot is actually on the far edge of where you're at. The center of where you're at engenders complacency. But the edge of where you're at does what all edges do—helps you define. Nature has a way of both containing you and allowing you to expand. She consistently shows up in a way that holds you, but asks something from you as well.
There is a tradition here in town of a Polar Bear Plunge on New Years Day. Which of course I never participated in because I grew up in Maine. I was cold at least 50% of my childhood and I did not see any reason to ever be cold like that again. So jumping into the cold water on a cold day seem like the height of Unnecessary Behaviors. But yet here I am every morning, sometimes before the sun rises, sliding into a mist covered water and actually loving it.
This capacity to shift our beliefs and behaviors is exactly what water teaches us. We are either able to flow with the internal and external changes in our world or we stagnate. This world is in constant motion and our need to shift our own thoughts and our own patterns is why we have these big brains. Of course our big brains have also produced a bunch of big problems that leave us incapable of thinking our way out of them. A daily nature practice allows us to momentarily put down the problems we've created in order to look closely at how nature handles things. When we do, she always brings us to that sweet spot along the edge of where we're at.
There was a bit of nature on my bench this week with these sweet mushroom pieces. I didn't get as many made as I had hoped, in part because I'm still pretty fixated on these Tarot pieces too.
I'll be making pretty furiously for Blue Genie and I'm also excited to be popping up at The Empress in New Braunfels on November 19th. So hopefully I'll have lots of things in the next few weeks and you'll, of course, have the right of first refusal. 😊
The veil is especially thin this week as the traditions of Samhain, Dia de los Muertos, and Halloween teach us. It's a perfect weekend to find a sweet spot in nature and let her help you notice your edges.
The spring-fed San Marcos river is a constant 72°. Which, on 104° day, feels incredibly bracing, refreshing and rejuvenating. So it stands to reason that when the air temps drop into the 40s, 72° would feel downright shocking. Yet it doesn't. The cooler the air temps get, the more like bathwater the river becomes.
This realization that the river always meets you with what you need happened on the first really cold day late last fall. Over the year I've thought about this a lot and how this sweet spot is actually on the far edge of where you're at. The center of where you're at engenders complacency. But the edge of where you're at does what all edges do—helps you define. Nature has a way of both containing you and allowing you to expand. She consistently shows up in a way that holds you, but asks something from you as well.
There is a tradition here in town of a Polar Bear Plunge on New Years Day. Which of course I never participated in because I grew up in Maine. I was cold at least 50% of my childhood and I did not see any reason to ever be cold like that again. So jumping into the cold water on a cold day seem like the height of Unnecessary Behaviors. But yet here I am every morning, sometimes before the sun rises, sliding into a mist covered water and actually loving it.
This capacity to shift our beliefs and behaviors is exactly what water teaches us. We are either able to flow with the internal and external changes in our world or we stagnate. This world is in constant motion and our need to shift our own thoughts and our own patterns is why we have these big brains. Of course our big brains have also produced a bunch of big problems that leave us incapable of thinking our way out of them. A daily nature practice allows us to momentarily put down the problems we've created in order to look closely at how nature handles things. When we do, she always brings us to that sweet spot along the edge of where we're at.
There was a bit of nature on my bench this week with these sweet mushroom pieces. I didn't get as many made as I had hoped, in part because I'm still pretty fixated on these Tarot pieces too.
I'll be making pretty furiously for Blue Genie and I'm also excited to be popping up at The Empress in New Braunfels on November 19th. So hopefully I'll have lots of things in the next few weeks and you'll, of course, have the right of first refusal. 😊
The veil is especially thin this week as the traditions of Samhain, Dia de los Muertos, and Halloween teach us. It's a perfect weekend to find a sweet spot in nature and let her help you notice your edges.
PS: I'll be at Lone Star Workshop this coming Thursday night with a little Wall Talisman Workshop. I think there are still a few spots available, so come join me to learn how to make a personalized piece for yourself.
PPS: As this holiday season gears up, I want to share some opportunities to gift experiences to the ones you love. One of my favorites is this beginner class at River City Glassworks. Kathyrn & Sondra are both master craftswomen and excellent teachers. You could even gather a group of up to 12, so it's a perfect way for friends, families and coworkers to give each other the gift of creative companionship. We all need more of that theses days.