This week unfolded a bit differently. If you have been plugged into what’s been happening in our collective energy field no doubt your week was as wonky as mine. We’ve had quite the astrological ride leading through Mercury’s entering its preshadow on the 26th and today’s new moon eclipse.

Last weekend I arrived home from Maine filled with inspiration for my Gemmo Village. Monday morning I began some notes on the theme of fate vs. destiny. The words flowed and my friend the river offered her support. Then came Tuesday morning when I was visited by an old, not so welcome friend. My fingers, wrist, elbow and shoulder joint of my right side were acutely inflamed. It was what Alaine Duncan refers to in her book, The Tao of Trauma, a high-tone sympathetic state.

A high-tone state is a term she uses for a neurological dump of stored energy that pours into the muscles and joints to support a fight or flight response. The state according to Duncan, “leaves us prone to musculoskeletal and emotional constriction and rigidity.” I embodied that definition to a ‘t’. Not only was I physically constricted, but it flowed into to my emotional state as well.

Whether I attempted to convey the words swirling in my head by pen or keyboard, the pain would stop me in my tracks.

Having past experience with this state, I have learned that addressing the inflammation directly isn’t helpful. Until I offer my nervous system the necessary cues of safety to shift out of fight or flight, my pain still remains. I am so grateful to have learned and avoid the trap of what can become excruciating physical therapy, chiropractic releases, or supplements that never reach the root of the problem.  Only when the Autonomic Nervous System receives the cues of safety it needs will it drop the state of protection and relief is experienced.

If you happen to be new here you might want to tune into this episode on the states of protection that I recorded last year with colleagues Maegan Lemp and Cameron Scott.

So here I am, stuck in this state of intense pain and the very tool that helps me process and regulate-writing-was physically impossible. I spent most of Wednesday and Thursday vacillating from a state of sympathetic fight to dorsal depletion. It was then the idea of the trickster archetype came to me in a dream.

The trickster loves to show up to weave doubt just as one takes determined steps forward toward destiny. The trickster’s role is to test.  Are you made of what it takes to meet your destiny or are you fated for failure?

Perfect. Now it all begins to come together.  Developmental trauma creates within habitual patterns of flight or flight. Even when we learn this logically, our cells are still wired for this pattern. In my case it was likely a subconscious thought that triggered my protection shortly after I publicly shared my dream for a future Gemmo Village. And when that old chronic pain arrived unannounced, of course it made me question my capabilities. So here I am again reminded of that narrow strip of middle ground. The often hidden path between giving up my power or forcing something with my will.

I’m thrilled by this lesson in using my trickster archetype to elicit positive growth. Certainly it would have been more welcome with less pain, but it would not have been so profound. Note to self: I can surrender to what is AND keep my power and sovereignty.

Here again I am reminded of what I know without a shadow of doubt:

Our physical body IS our best teacher. It is our ally here while walking this physical world to lead us to incarnate fully and become our highest self.

Let’s explore this further together,

I’ve spent the last seven days just outside Waldoboro, Maine. Residing in a refurbished barn with soaring ceilings, exposed beams, and windows open to the stand of trees that protectively circle the property. A walk across the hayfield and I am at the rocky shore. It was an idyllic spot to put words to big dreams and consider necessary steps to bring them to life.

Joining me were two dear Gemmo companions, women who were among a small group that physically held space as I taught my very first Gemmo class, nearly a decade ago.  Today they tenderly hold that space again as we organically unfold this next Gemmo chapter.

Do you have a dream you have carried close to your heart? If so, you know just how scary it can be to reveal it to others. Because once it is released it it becomes vulnerable to thoughts and opinions that may not be in alignment with yours.  So in its earliest stages I have been a protective mother, yet I know that sharing will give it the wings to take flight and evolve.

At the heart of my dream is a physical place, a home, for a Gemmo Foundation. A not-for-profit center for on-site training, research, and community outreach to support the sustainable growth of Gemmotherapy in the United States.  Accompanying that will be a cooperative of growers in different regions allowing for the production of the widest range of extracts possible.

No small dream, but it is the next natural step for my work and at 62 I know with the help of this community there will be the energy to bring it all to reality in my lifetime.

When I set out to import Gemmos to the U.S. years ago it was simply the next step needed for my clients. I had built a private practice in which Gemmos were an integral piece. And so I got on a plane to Europe and returned with an agreement with Plant Extrakt. It took another six months to get them across a US border- learning more about regulations than I ever dreamed-but we did it and here we are.

I have accepted the shifts in how business must be done in years to come and local production is the responsible direction to take.  It is a large undertaking that may take years to accomplish, but cooperatively it is within reach.

And so now in spring as the buds of the trees begin to open, unfurling leaves to collect sunlight, I will begin the process of collecting what I will need to build my hoped-for future and share the progress as it occurs.

I am grateful to include you in my dream and grateful for the stillness of this great land of the Wabanaki confederacy, People of the Dawnland, that we have renamed Maine.

Dream big,

Two weeks ago we headed to Nashville, TN. The plan was to travel across the state in search of growing areas for Gemmo trees, shrubs and vines. What I was looking for has transformed these past days and I have come to realize my lens is now more defined. Departing Texas on this journey my goal was to find suitable climates, soil and biodiversity. That list of requirements soon expanded.

Climate and soil are important but lose their value without a cultural respect for the land. How I define this continues to evolve, but on a basic level it is about working with rather than against the needs of the land. While soil can be amended, treating land as an inexhaustible resource can not. Certainly not inherent to Tennessee, we all live with great inconsistencies that play out in both small and large communities.

But with this now as my focus, I saw time and again examples of what appeared as commitment to restoration or preservation of the land accompanied with broad strokes of disregard.

A fine example was in Knoxville, a city that prides itself on its incredibly well planned and marketed urban wilderness that then allowed developers to line the banks of its rivers with golf courses that consistently drain pesticides into the flowing waters.

So after ten days of my heart growing heavier by the moment, I woke inspired. Do you remember the choose your own adventure books? The interactive series from the 80’s where YOU decide the outcome of the story? I suddenly saw an alternative ending. Three days before this story in my search for Gemmo tree series was about to end I suggested a plot twist. And because I have a husband who also follows his heart, we packed up and headed further east to North Carolina.

Now to be fair North Carolina has it’s own challenges with negotiating urban growth and protecting the land. But in spite of this I picked up an entirely different energy. So we have spent the last few days inventorying trees and learning what we could about the culture of several tiny mountain communities north of Asheville.  With only a short spance of time I can’t quite put words to what feels dramatically different, but my heart tells me its right and so far in my 62 years its always spot on.

And so today I bid farewell to North Carolina for now but have committed to return for a longer stretch very soon. My journey continues as I follow my heart back to mid-coast Maine.

Stay tuned for more tree search updates.

Be well,

When I asked for trees, Tennessee certainly delivered. Oh my, are there trees-of every shape and size-and what a glorious season to meet them, all bursting with life.

I can’t seem to get enough of being in their presence. The dogwood’s graceful beauty takes my breath away, the beech shows up where I least expect it, and the ever-present pines remind me to set my sights high. And so I am back to my teaching days, taking roll, checking them in tree by tree. I’ll let you know next week all of what I’ve found.

Until then make note of all the life unfolding where ever you may be.

Be well,