24. brambles
I started bleeding yesterday, unexpectedly, as itâs only day 19 of my cycle. I say unexpectedly, although my menstrual cycle has been anywhere from 17 days to 31 days over the last 13 moons, and itâs - big sigh - undeniable that perimenopause is upon me.
More to come on that later, as I have an entire collection of bones to pick with the intelligence of the universe and how it designed hormonal shifts in light of the human lifespan. Actually, the bones I want to pick are more likely with modernity and capitalism, because the wisdom of the wildly fluctuating hormones at this stage in some ways is a brilliant stroke of artistry to initiate us into our deeper intuition and wisdom.
ANYWAY thatâs not what I am talking about today, but perhaps itâs a bit related. The more frequently I bleed (or experience my luteal phase), the more frequently I need to take some serious space from people-ing.
People-ing can be very exhausting in general, but when the lights start to dim on the outer world, and the curtain begins to raise on the show of my inner world, I need extra space, extra quiet, extra sleep, extra solitude - and with work that is built around tending other people in a relational way, it becomes my personal life, family, friendships, and of course social media that need to be pushed back to create the breathing room my body needs to be well.
I refreshed my altar on the New Year. I gave it a good sweeping, removed all the items from it, and reset it according to my intuition. The centerpiece emerged a bit to my surprise. Not a beautiful rose, sacred candle, or favorite crystal, but instead a small piece of art: an etching, a wood-burning of a palm tree, made by one of my best friends, with a tall trunk, and only up at the top, some leafy fronds and a coconut.
The palm tree, see, has boundaries inherently present in its shape. By stretching itself way up towards the sky, and developing a thick, rough bark, it discourages all but the most determined from sampling its fruits.
When I teach on boundaries, I talk about fences, not palm trees.
Rigid boundaries are like a castle fortress, replete with ramparts, watchtowers, a moat and even a fire-breathing dragon. These overly protective boundaries may not allow anyone to get close to us, even when we want them to.
Weak boundaries are like broken down chain link fences, rusted out and full of holes. Upon them might be a sign that once said âno trespassing,â but itâs so sun-faded and weather-worn that the message no longer holds any meaning. Because the fence has fallen, the yard is mistaken for an empty field, or a public park; unkempt, itâs littered with debris from people who have discarded their trash and then just moved on.
Healthy boundaries Iâve often described as a happy little picket fence around a well-maintained yard, with a cute little latched gate that is kept nicely closed, and a tinkly little bell that can notify one of arrivals. Itâs orderly, organized, efficient, and delineates private space from public space, so that only those who are invited may proceed to the inner sanctum.
But right now, my vision of healthy boundaries is evolving. Instead of a cookie-cutter single family home with a picket fence, Iâm seeing something darker, richer, and more wild.
I see a well worn footpath in an ancient wood, weaving its way amongst tall trees, edged by clover and wildflowers. The path leads to a tall hedge of what appears to be snarled brambles, a thicket of thorns without a clear way through. The average person would simply veer to the left or to the right, and find another way to proceed to their destination.
But the curious seeker would look deeper, and see that this bank of briars is actually a carefully tended wall of wild roses. Following the hedge around, patiently, they would eventually find a secret gate, a back door - unlocked, but mildly foreboding. Those who choose to enter would do so knowing that the proprietor of this place was intentionally selecting solitude - and to disturb it, they would have a very good reason.
Within the walls, a massive garden sprawls out, full of beauty and wonder. In the midst of it, a small cabin with a large stone fireplace, floor to ceiling bookshelves, a plethora of sheepskins and a well-stocked apothecary waits. In the open kitchen, dried flowers hang from the ceiling, and a kettle stands steaming on the stove. Near the door, a velvet cape lined with fur hangs from a polished antler on the wall. Inside is a space of comfort, beauty, and safety. Outside is a space of wildness, elemental beings, and solitude. Beyond both is a wall of wisdom, that guards these spaces so magic can be worked here.
Whoever created this space was mindful of balance.
Beauty, yes, but also brambles.
Beauty, yes, but also boundaries.
An initiate of the Rose, no doubt.
As I sit in contemplation of boundaries, recycling my old recipes and tools for working with them, I realize that my own boundary practice is in need of a meaningful refresh, much in the same way that my vision has evolved from the picket fence to the rambling brambling roses.
I am available forâŠ
I am not available forâŠ
People may notâŠ
I have a right toâŠ
If they disturb this right, I willâŠ
I am the guardian of myâŠ
To protect it, I willâŠ
Boundaries can be hard to set when they also mean withdrawing generosity, time, presence, or counsel from those I perceive to need me.
But I need me. I need me well, resourced, safe, stable, grounded, and strong. Because I have important magical work to do in this life, and I am not available for drains on my energy.
People may not dump their emotional shit in my yard anymore. I have a right to a clean, clear, consent-based emotional space. If they disturb this right, I will lovingly show them to the exit and ask them to wait outside my bramble wall until I am ready to provide support.
I am the guardian of my well-being. To protect it, I will accept that at times I may be disliked or perceived as being selfish. I will accept that I cannot - and do not want to be - in a deep, close, intimate relationship with many people. I simply do not have room for it.
I am available for mutual, reciprocal, respectful, mindful relationships which invite both parties into a more true, loving, authentic, intelligent, intuitive, empowered, mature, and wise expression of our full selves.
In order for the Rose to blossom, it has to develop thorns.
So, Iâm amending my words for 2025:
Beauty, yes -
and also...
Boundaries.
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