The Art of Spew- Memoirs of a Vomit Bug

I have this knack for manifesting exactly what I need right now. Sitting on the verandah floor, (and a too much information warning coming up!) throwing up into an old red  bucket which I grasp with one arm, and holding my other hand out to catch the vomit spewing out of my littlest one's mouth, a bewildered and shocked look on his face... I am okay with this, I thought. Just please, let it be quick. Intense, and quick.

And quick- and intense- was what I got. By the time my partner came home on the mercy dash, having got the dreaded text message an hour earlier, I was just about purged. He found me slumped on the front step, where I had landed a while before, and I was unable to move. So exhausted from the full body engagement of letting go, from helping the baby through his ordeal, cleaning him up, me up, the space up... He smiled sympathically and went to find our little one, who was by now happily playing with his brother and sister.

 Three hours, fourteen vomits, and I was done. I finally managed to crawl into the shower, and allowed myself to crouch under those precious drops for a long time, threw up once more, and fell naked and cold into bed. My biggest little one came in a few minutes later, and pulled a blanket over me, and took the message to his dad that I wanted ginger tea. In his own beautiful caring way, he brought me some slivers of ginger he had cut to chew on, and my daughter (who had been in the throes of the bug two days prior) came and lay with me, whispering "I know, I know."

Whenever I have a vomit bug, I can feel the parallels between giving birth and throwing up. Both are all consuming, when they get to that point of full bodily engagement. In both, our verbosity rendered less of a tool- but our voices can be amazingly healing (I am a noisy birther, and noisy moaner when sick). Both show us the power and totality of our bodies ability to do whatever it needs to do to get the process done, no matter how we feel about the process.

Knowing this ( a lesson from previous bugs) I wanted to go deeper. Can I touch some of that special place we go to inside of ourselves, that trancy, magic space of birth, amidst all this bodily discomfort and yuckiness? The big words inside my head was : GO WITH YOUR INSTINCT.

And for me, that was the point of letting go. Even when I am sick, I think I try to hold onto things- ensure my children are okay, and reassuring them I am okay (they have a fascination with watching me spew, as I am sure many people do). Washing out and then rinsing the bucket after every spew. Taking small sips of water after every spew.

This time, I didn't. Short of making sure Koa was laying down next to me on a towel wherever I ended up (in his less chirpy moments) and doing what I needed to do to support him, I let all of this go. I went to the spots of the house I needed to. The front steps and the breeze and openness there was right for me- even though my vomity aria was probably an unwelcome soundscape to the neighbours across the gully. I didn't get up to clean up, and totally surrendered to that feeling of being wiped out. I adamantly felt not to put anything in my stomach, not even a sip of water. This process needed to be a complete and pure purge- something needed to come out, beyond the physical, and I needed to allow the space for that.

I found myself staring at trees, (as I often do in labour), feeling their strength and their eternity. I breathed into this amazing feeling of transcendance. Yes, the awful nausea and dizziness and pain was there- but so too was acceptance, gratitude and beauty.

And when I finally collapsed into bed, still sick but knowing the vomiting was done, it was blissful and pure and transcedent too. Even though two days later I still feel a little sick, and incredibly tired and run down, there is thankfulness.

Yesterday, my husband returned to work, but two hours later than usual on a Sunday morning, and that was so recuperative for me. The children and I spent a day snuggled up on the bed in the spare room (where I had slept the night before, my little retreat nest), reading, or cuddling. I was still feeling so weak. I dipped into a book that was visually and mentally soothing and inspiring for me, and felt that this is where the real gold is.

In my family, we have a rhythm: for every sick day, we take a recovery day. A day off too nourish, nurture, come back to ourselves. Now this doesn't often happen easily for me, being a mama as I am, with a house to clean, children to feed, sibling fights (oh, the endless sibling fights!) to mediate...But I was able to get a sense of it, the gold that the recovery time holds. It's not the purging itself, or the illness that holds the healing (or not primarily, perhaps), but the space afterwards. If I am still, and sit with it, I can feel the light entering each cell. I notice the way I relate to the children is gentler, and more conscious. I find myself visioning what I want to bring more of into my life, how that would look and feel. Gladly letting go of that which does not serve.

If I could truly hold and honour that healing time for myself, how would I grow and evolve? And if I could facilitate that quiet, magic time for my children, how beautifully would they blossom?

That is my intention I hold up today: that I may truly honour the recovery time.

I have a clear sense of what that means to me in this moment: a little writing (done!) some rest in a cool, tidy room (I will gift myself that five minutes of tidying) and a nourishing juice or smoothie to build me up nutritionally. So a morning off work to dive into healing space- awaits!

Gluten and Dairy Free Pancakes

Sunday is pancake day in our house. Sitting around the big table for a lazy breakfast (or lunch sometimes, if we get especially lazy!), the children in their seats waiting with eager anticipation as each pancake is lifted from the frypan...the flour that inevitably gets spilt on the floor, the diplomacy required to negotiate whose turn it is to crack the egg...it is all a beloved tradition.

When our family transitioned to a gluten free diet recently, I found a perfectly adequate, yummy gluten free pancake mix- out of a box. But you know what? The enjoyment of pancake mornings was a little stale. I wanted the spilt flour, the sneaky toddler fingers in the batter, the challenge (and frustration) of trying to move around three chairs pushed up against the bench...half the fun of pancake morning is in the communal cooking experience!

Luckily, I experimented with making up a recipe for gluten free pancakes and they tasted awesome (may have a little something to do with the lemon juice and sprinkling of brown sugar on the top- but hey, a pancake is only as good as it's toppings!)

Here's the recipe:

1 cup buckwheat flour
1 cup brown rice flour
A quarter teaspoon or so of baking powder
2 eggs
1 cup of coconut cream
Half a cup of dessicatted coconut
Enough water to get the batter to a happy consistency

Method:

Mix all the dry ingrediants well. Add eggs and coconut cream and mix. Play around with adding some water until you feel the consistency is right (you can always add a little more flour, or water).

Fry in a saucepan using coconut oil or ghee (if you do dairy).

What's your great gluten free pancake recipe? What toppings do you lavish on your pancakes?

Manifesting A New Nest

For the past two and a half years, my family and I have been incredibly blessed to live in a rambling bush house at the base of Nungali, the sacred Gumbaingirr mountain. The house was, a couple of decades ago, part of Satyananda Yoga ashram, and is part of a group of earthy times homes sprinkled up the lower reaches of the mountain. My children and I played in the bamboo forest, by the creeks edge, ate fruit straight from the trees...it has been magic.

Pictures of our current nest

But now it is time to move on. The landlord is ready to move back into the bosom of this beautiful house, and it's time for my nomadic family to pack up and find somewhere new. It's sad to go, but it's also exciting, to see where that deep, resonant and unmistakable call of the land takes us to. The land drawing us in- that is something I really believe in.

On the new moon just past (it was also our oldest son's birthday, for a little extra magical potency), we gathered our children, some paper, pens, dreams and hopes and visioned what we wanted this time around. With consciousness and clarity, we spoke it out into this sacred land we live on. What manifests will be a perfect reflection of this, as filtered by what we all need now on our Earth Walk.

Here's a little of what we called upon:

on healing land/high vibrations
cheap rent
bedroom/s that connect us
on a well functioning, beautiful and joyful MO or community
a healthy house- no mould etc
sanctuary space
a bath
tipi/yurt/belle tent
stairs that go down into a room of my own (that was our oldest son)
stairs that go down into a room of my own, with a high butterfly bed, and fairies (that was our daughter)
oven and stove
space for an outside/verandah bed
outside bathroom and kitchen
close to Chrysalis Steiner School
close to a daycare or preschool option
cool architecture
easy maintenance
cosy and efficient fireplace
tin roof (for the rain sounds!)
beautiful, heart expanding views
space for my heart work (me)
fireflies
in the rainforest
fig tree
beautiful waterhole nearby
as much off the grid as possible
specifically, places- Martells Road, Freida Hicks Drive/Nungali, on the Never Never, Darkwood Road, Kalang Road, Roses Road or in town

Dropping deeper, I visioned what makes a home space a heart space
love
emotional transparency
deep listening
the holding of space
gentle, conscious and creative parenting
connection to the earth
belonging
holistic
sustainable

I look forward to writing about what manifests for us!

Today's Beauty Way Invitation: One Small Piece of Gorgeousness

In the Sacred Living Movement, we talk often of the Beauty Way of living. Simply put, it's a way of being present to our lives, and how we can deeply nourish ourselves and those around us by consciously bringing beauty to our internal and external spaces.

The Beauty Way is one of the greatest lessons, both for birth work, and for motherhood- and yes, for ALL of my crazy, full, gorgeous, blessed life- from working and learning through Sacred Pregnancy. It's something I come back to again and again.

Today, it's time to offer a little challenge- no, an invitation. This is for you, if you already walk in the Beauty Way. It's also for you if you've never thought or heard of the Beauty Way before. It's especially for you if you consciously or unconsciously are repelled to the concept of beauty, because hell, it is a concept that has been so twisted by our mainstream culture (if this is you, try this: what is one item I could place in my space, or on my body, that would open my heart a little more? That's all. Be gentle. This is your work alone).

So here is my invitation:

What is ONE SMALL THING you can do, right now, in the busiest spot of your home, to bring in walking in the Beauty Way?

Some ideas:

*Lighting your favourite incense in the entry way\
*Making your bed neatly and lovingly
*Placing flowers in the kitchen

Then, what is ONE SMALL THING you can do, right now, to nurture your own body in beauty?

Some ideas:

*Make a simple body scrub from raw sugar and coconut oil, and exfoliate your skin
*Pick a flower and put it in your hair (a great activity to share with little ones!)
*Stop and STREEETCH and find your favourite yoga position.

Here's my little beauty way moment, inspired by a line in this awesome India.Arie song...

"Sometimes I shave my legs, and sometimes I don't. Sometimes I comb my hair, and sometimes I won't. Depending on the way the wind blows, I might even paint my toes..."

Painting my toenails...and my, didn't they look sweet with my favourite shoes and my new wrap skirt...

Okay...now go and do it! Get your Beauty Way on, and post a pic in the comments! Enjoy!

An Invitation to Love

This post is dedicated to my partner Zai, and the love that endures between the two of us. May it deepen and expand through the years. 

Photo found on Pinterest

Last month, my partner went travelling. He attended a wedding in England and then spent some lazy weeks pottering around Europe. He explored neolithic villages, saw the full moon rise at Stone Henge, and cycled through the back streets of Barcelona. 

And children and I- we stayed at home.

It was an epic challenge for me, at least in my mind. It was up there with labour, which for me is one of the  ultimate challenges and rites of passage a woman can go through.

And I admit, it was the unravelling of me. Not when he was gone, but in the months leading up to the trip, knowing he was going, knowing he had made the choice to go, knowing that I would have to delve into new parts of myself to shift from the way we have mostly equally coparenting, at least from when our second child came into the world, to being absolutely, radically, self reliant, and accountable to these three precious beings. I cried, I screamed, I channeled my hurting bleeding heart.  I doubted our relationship. Mostly I doubted myself.

What did I need to do? Trust, surrender, love. That old mantra, gifted to me by my third son and his blazing arrival into our lives, the mantra that seems to apply to anything and everything in my life. It would be okay. There would be gifts.

The greatest gift, it was revealed, was the stripping away. My partner and I rescinded our roles to each other as co-parents and as housemates. Wow, how encompassing those roles had become, without us seeing it! How much of our interactions- and, to be truthful, our frustrations and dynamics with each other- were wrapped up in parenting our children together, and sharing domesticity.

Within hours of watching his plane fly off into the ether, I was struck down by two things: firstly, a deep sense of missing him, of his presence travelling further and further away, faster than the speed of sound. And secondly, from that great heart-spaced emptiness, what flowed in: the realisation that I LOVED him, so deeply, so strongly, so purely. When all else was taken away, what was left was love, and for some reason, I hadn't expected that.

Photo found on Pinterest

So the lesson, for me, in this experience that I fought against for so long:

Open up to the raw places, the places that make you feel abandoned, empty and alone: what do you find there?

Photo found on Pinterest

(It's a great lesson for love relationships, but I am thinking right now, it would be great for relationship with the self too).

And I invite you, dear reader, to this: How can you open up to the raw places today? How can you create a place where you let go of expectations, of relationship dynamics, of feelings of security? What happens when you do?

I actually want you to go and do this. What are you holding onto so tight, and what happens when you let go, for just a little while? What sparkling little lessons rush into that empty space? Share your story in the comments, if you feel to.

© Sammi Cambray/Sacred Whisper Bellingen 2014

Sammi is a holistic doula and birth counsellor, and the publisher of Sacred Whisper Bellingen

Ph: 0418 950 793

The Evolution Of Food...on a family level

Yes, things have been very quiet here at Sacred Whisper Bellingen for a few weeks.

My partner, Zai, was given the opportunity to travel around Europe for a month (and had some amazing experiences). My life during this time became very focused: the wellbeing of myself and my children, our sweet little rhythm, and very little else.

This simple and unhindered presence to my family and it's intimate inner workings shone a light on a few areas that just clearly weren't working as well as they could. Little lost opportunities for meeting people's needs better, more sustainably, and the wise little life lessons that are inherently part of living a conscious lifestyle.

The biggest evolution for us here- the natural process of something clearly being unworkable, experimenting with solutions, and integrating a new way of being into our lives together- was the way we do food. 

Photo sourced from Pinterest

Food is big in our family. Zai's passion is food and cooking and the divine alchemy he undertakes from raw ingrediants, coming up with something far greater than the sum of the parts (psst...the secret ingrediant is love. And probably cumin seeds). And having three growing children...yes, food is a big part of our day.

In our family we had been following a standard traditional food rhythm for a long time. Breakfast, morning tea, lunch, afternoon tea, and a focal point of dinner at the end of the day. Some of us are vegetarian, and some of us eat meat.

But some problems were definately showing up. The kids would be requesting their next meal (read: I'm huuuuungry, in that voice only children can use). I would prepare the next meal and one of two things would happen:

1. Two bites would be taken, and they would be full.

2. "I DON'T LIKE THIS!!" (Also in that voice- and pitch- only children can create. Optional: a thrown fork/spoon/tantrum)

Occasionally, there was also 3. They ate it happily (mostly if involves rice, tamari and sunflower seeds, every child's favourite meal in my house.)

So, I was finding I was dealing with a lot of wasted food. One benefit: our chooks were extremely well fed and happy. But I wasn't happy. On a deep level, it doesn't feel right to be wasting food. And it's not just the food, it's the time and effort that goes into preparing it- and I'm sure you can relate to those days that I felt I was simply preparing food, serving it, and cleaning up after it all day.

Photo sourced from Pinterest

There was another dynamic going on here. My children, bless them, are beautifully independant creatures. Even the youngest of them knows how to push the chair up against the bench to climb up and get a piece of fruit from the fruit bowl. I would often find them making honey sandwiches or preparing themselves some snack I probably wouldn't condone.

I love their independance. I do. But the same thing was happening with snacking- they would eat half or a third of the apple, and be done. Or they would make themselves enough sandwiches, that their appetite for the next meal (which would be more nutritionally sound, mind you!) would be broken.

So I had to tighten things up. I had to create an environment where we were all more conscious of the blessings that we have in having abundant food, and be responsible with that abundance.

Firstly, we put an end to snacking. This was especially difficult for my middle child, for whom food and independance and choices and all that has such great ramifications for her little being. But we did it, explaining clearly that we weren't snacking, and after a while, she was a lot less anxious. She wasn't constantly asking for food, because she had the security of knowing a meal would be coming up sometime in the near future. She was releived of the need to ask and ask and ask. It would be provided anyway- when it was time.

The second thing, was making our "big meal" of the day at lunchtime, rather than dinner time. We all had more energy then- me, for preparing a meal, and the kids, to either help, or to play whilst I made it. I found myself appreciating the flavours, textures and nutrition of the good food I offered, simply because I had time-- I still had so much of the day ahead of me, instead of thinking of housework and bedtime routines and getting everyone through the meal so we could get on with all the jobs. It also gave us precious time to sit and connect and slow our rhythm down- being at home at lunchtime meant we couldn't spend all day out of the house, just morning, afternoon or neither.

Photo sourced from Pinterest

The third thing we did- which I did, and which really shifted things for us- was to collect up all of the leftover food from the day, put it in the fridge, and serve it up, buffet style for dinner at the end of the day. It sounds odd, but it was so easy, the kids didn't complain (after the first day or two), meant dinner time was simple and the food wastage problem was solved.

We kept our little meal time rituals, for continuity. We light a little candle at each meal, and someone gets to blow it out and make a wish. Sometimes we sing a blessing over the food, and sometimes we share the best parts of our day. It's a special time.

We are embarking on a new food adventure with our family now- gluten free. That's a whole other post...

So how do you do food in your family? How do you deal with food wastage, snacking, what are your little rituals? Please share in the comments below.

© Sammi Cambray/Sacred Whisper Bellingen 2014

Sammi is a holistic doula and birth counsellor, and the publisher of Sacred Whisper Bellingen

Ph: 0418 950 793

Silence and the Art of Holding Space

Silence is profound, and paradoxically, one of the most fundamental and effective components of listening.

When I speak of listening, I do not mean the unconcious listening that pervades much of the day- simply tuning in (or tuning out) to auditory stimulation. Instead, I mean the deep stepping in and heart opening that occurs when one sits as witness and container for another's expression.

Listening, in the true meaning of the word, is

Respectful
Without judgement
Compassionate
Facilitates the speaker to move onto the next stage of the process
An encounter with both self, and other; as well as that beyond the individual

To be silent, however, is such a key component. Not just silent of word, but silent of the mental chatter that clogs up our communication channels and seperates us right at the moment we intend to connect. Silence shifts us from mind space to heart space, and to body space, and the profound knowledge that lies there.

SIlence allows the speaker to follow their thread of consciousness where it is longing to go, and then gently, or abruptly, falls into an abyss.

That abyss is interesting. Apparently, it takes eighteen seconds from the start of silence, to come to a deeper awareness of what is going on underneath what has already been spoken. Eighteen seconds to gain an insight, eighteen seconds to become aware of a new facet of the issue, eighteen seconds to drop down.

How often do we give ourselves, or others, eighteen seconds?

This eighteen seconds has implications in so many areas. The lovers that find space to truly hear each other and break down the build up of patterning and habit; the parent that holds space for the child to voice some deep fears or let go of some cathartic tears. I can see immense implications for my work in counselling, and in birth work, especially in the very special time I spend with clients pre and post natally. It's such a charged, frenetic and emotional time; that conscious silence, well, it makes all the difference.

Let silence do the heavy lifting in your life, today. What does it manifest?




These reflections were inspired by the first day of Robyn Sheldon's doula workshop here in Bellingen. To know more about Robyn's work, have a look here.