Friday, June 25, 2010

Can't Stop Smelling Myself...

...and that's a good thing.

You know that thing that happens when you put on something that smells so good, you find yourself turning your head a lot or gesturing a little larger, just so you can catch a whiff? I just made a spur-o-the-moment astringent/toner about five minutes ago, and I can't stop sniffing. "Man," I keep telling myself, "I smell great."
If somebody were spying through the window, they'd probably have a hard time figuring out whether I'm grooving and boppin' to a little song inside my head, or cheerfully in the midst of a neurological breakdown.

In an unattractive twist of fate, I break out more in my 20's than I ever did back in high school (oh the irony...). Add to that the facts that I'm usually covered in dirt, it's hot out, and I can't be bothered with fancy lotions or whatnot, and it's a wonder my skin still looks like skin at all! Not a very good public image for someone who sells body care products, but there you go. Enter the spray toner: portable, quick, with a spicy, fresh, almost Christmas-y smell. In the words of the inestimable (and aggrevatingly well-complexioned) Mr. Yates: Done.

Sniff Yer Face Spray Toner
  • 2 oz. organic vodka
  • 1/2 oz. organic apple cider vinegar
  • 1/2 oz. water
  • 5 drops each of the following organic essential oils:
  • Bay (astringent; antiseptic; soothes and heals irritated & bruised skin; acts as tonic for hair & scalp)
  • Lavender (promotes cell growth; regulates sebum while promoting skin elasticity; soothes and heals acne, sunburns, scars, boils, etc.; bacteriacidal)
  • Rosemary (astringent; antiseptic; skin & hair tonic)
  • Lemon (astringent; brightens pale/dull complexions by removing dead skin cells, smoothing broken capillaries & cleansing greasy skin; astringent; antiseptic; circulatory tonic; soothes and softens scars)
  • 1 1/2 T. dried organic lavender blossoms
  • 1/2 the skin of a clementine, torn into three strips.
  • Directions: Mix all ingredients in 3 oz. spray bottle and spray over face, neck, scalp, etc.
... I just took a break from typing to flip my braids around and smell my wrists. And it's still true:
I smell fantastic.

Monday, June 14, 2010

Crash, boom, bang.

That's the psychic sound of me losing all of my FireFox settings and bookmarks. A year's worth of resources, business advice, websites, recipes, links, and various sundry herbal compilations (not to mention maps, directions, comics, and blogs)... gone.

The initial horror and "oh my god, I have to fix this" wide-eyed, breathe-in-through-the-nose-and-hold-it emergency response has faded to a deep-exhalation, "this is sort of freeing" understanding.

So I don't have all those carefully organized organizations and individuals and recipes at the tips of my fingers anymore. So what? So I find them again. Or I find new ones. Or - and this ties in with the whole "pack my life into car or cabin" downsizing motif I seem to be working with these days - I do without. (Though in all honesty I will mourn those recipes). Still.

I left the job I loved more than any other. I did without.
I lost the relationship I loved for years. I did without.
I even gave up the giant, honkin', super-comfy California king memory foam mattress and shiny black headboard, and (speaking of black) the black mold-filled apartment that I'd also filled with friends and photos and at one point, about 500 pounds of apples, and you know what? I did without.

And in each case, in each instance of separation and letting go, I wound up better for it.

I stopped counseling those hard-up, hard-lived teenagers who hid their fears beneath violence and bravado, and found my way to a gentler, younger group of learners, fresh and eager and ready to smother me in hugs whenever I appeared.
I said goodbye to saving loved ones from themselves, and lo-and-behold, the universe presented me with a man who needs no saving; a man I would trust to save me, but who recognizes that I am my own savior and the hero of my own journey, and who is equally in balance and in joy. 
And as for the bed.... well, a bed's a bed. And if I sleep a little less deeply on the hard earth or the wooden loft, at least I wake up that much closer to my Maker, to the myriad other creatures of shared existence, to the sounds and the clean air and the breaking dawn that lights my ready-to-traverse path.

So. Maybe I'm hiding my technical ineptitude behind lots of hippie, frou-frou, New-Age bullshit, and this is all an elaborate form of tree-hugging, minimalist denial. Or maybe those bookmarks just aren't worth fighting to find. Either way, they're gone... and once again, I'm fine, and moving on.

The Journey 
-by Mary Oliver-
One day you finally knew
what you had to do, and began,
though the voices around you
kept shouting
their bad advice --
though the whole house
began to tremble
and you felt the old tug
at your ankles.
"Mend my life!"
each voice cried.
But you didn't stop.
You knew what you had to do,
though the wind pried
with its stiff fingers
at the very foundations,
though their melancholy
was terrible.
It was already late
enough, and a wild night,
and the road full of fallen
branches and stones.
But little by little,
as you left their voices behind,
the stars began to burn
through the sheets of clouds,
and there was a new voice
which you slowly
recognized as your own,
that kept you company
as you strode deeper and deeper
into the world,
determined to do
the only thing you could do --
determined to save
the only life you could save.

Tuesday, June 8, 2010

June Update

Some people sit through their lives under fluorescent lights and buy their exercise at the gym. We have sunlight, a broad fork, and the wheel hoe in our favor.

Howdy folks! It's been a wildly busy few weeks up here in the gorgeous Champlain Valley, between farming and kidsitting and squeezing in some summer in between. I made a really fun Dancing Porcupine Bath Salts blend last week for the CSA pickup, and have some other nifty ideas up my sleeve for this week's market - like essential oil bubble wands for the kids. How cool will those be?!

The farm is so much fun - and so much work. Even though I'm only there a few days out of the week, my life revolves around that plot of land like it tends to do around good and growing places. And this is such a good place. When I'm here, I think about Dave's farm in Pennsylvania, and Julie and Onassis's place in the Mayan jungle, and I feel a joy I've only ever felt outdoors.

It seems so simple, so naturally obvious that this is the way to live. There's a satisfaction that comes from a day well-lived; a sense of rightness that coats your bones when you're earning new muscles honestly. Some people sit through their lives under fluorescent lights and buy their exercise at the gym. We have sunlight, a broad fork, and the wheel hoe in our favor.

The girls laugh at me every Thursday night when I come home because I'm too tired to do anything other than flop down and cuddle one or the other to sleep. Sometimes I have enough energy for a shower, but it's rare. It's an irony in my life that I spent months getting rid of my jungle calluses, only to start earning farm ones as soon as I came back to Vermont.

So what are us interns doing when we're not skinny dipping during lunch breaks, camping during thunderstorms, or eating fried chicken for breakfast? Well for starters, we're learning a lot! Our bosses are great, constantly explaining the whys and hows of farming to us, and patiently sharing their knowledge and experience through every new activity and chore. Unlike other folks who take on interns, they haven't quite figured out the whole "delegate the drudge work to your indentured minions" thing, and work side-by-side with us until we know enough to do things on our own. After the first group day, we all piled into their pickup, and they took us to the lake for pizza and beer. And when we finish a really big project, they're quick with praise, gratitude and a high-five or hug. They always welcome visitors, but do me a favor, ok? When you do come, please don't tell them they're doing the boss thing all wrong. We've kinda got a good thing goin', if you know what I mean.

Besides learning (or during it, I should say), we're busy weeding, hoeing, laying beds, shoveling pathways, sowing seeds, weeding, planting seedlings, watering, sorting, harvesting, washing, packaging, checking the new beehive, tending the sheep and chickens, moving fences, learning, and weeding. Followed by more weeding. And bringing the one Escape Chicken back to her coop.

All of this leaves me on the bank of the pond during lunch time, toasting my muddy feet in the sun and contemplating the blackbirds as they swoop, preoccupied, through the cattails.

"Best. Summer job. Ever," I tell them, but they're too busy nesting and feeding and singing to each other to respond. It's ok. If they weren't so focused on their own perfect lives, I'm sure they'd agree.

Copyright (c) 2009-2014 Jessica Bellantone. Please email me when reproducing content. Thank you!

MyFreeCopyright.com Registered & Protected