“… I am grateful for my mothers. Can I pass along wisdom and love, as they have?”

So goes a journal entry from last August. I was a day or two into a 4-day yoga, nature and art retreat in northern New Mexico, billed as an experience to “nourish the creative spirit.” For journaling & creative inspiration, the 12 of us were invited to choose a card (mine shown here) from an oracle deck that was spread out in front of us at our morning gathering.

She’s a little spooky looking, but also not spooky, right? For whatever reason, I chose this one. Maybe the sage she’s cloaked in reminded me of the sage patch in our Saint Paul backyard. Or I was envious of her long, straight and white locks of wisdom. Or was I grateful to see an image of an older female face? I was feeling like I was the oldest person in our group.

The deck’s interpretive book indicated a potential area for emotional and creative exploration for this retreat: consider what my female ancestors have passed along to me, and how I may be able to pass that knowledge and love along.

This felt very … out of the blue. I was almost year into a new season of my life, saying yes to travel, spending more time with Steve and our dogs, and exploring ways to expand or evolve my yoga business. 4 years into grieving the loss of my mom, 2 years into grieving the losses of my father and my mother-in-law. Doing a lot of leaning into what things I was doing, and not (yet) doing, that made me feel alive and good. Cooking, travel, digging in the dirt, walking or running with the dogs, teaching yoga, spending time in Portland with family: check.

There were only two (literal) female ancestors I ever could have met, and just one I knew very well. The latter, my mother, had passed away in 2020. Some of what I knew about her, I shared in the obituary I wrote. It’s not difficult for me to do my best to act with love and to appreciate the outdoors. Areas I’m still working on (and possibly do okay at already) are service to others and cultivating a relationship with plants.

So… oracle card, schmoracle card. I didn’t outright reject it, but I chose not to obsess over it. If the topic arose again over the long weekend, or ever, cool.

It came back, on our last morning.

Over the prior three days, I’d had some down-time opportunities to stroll around the property, and examine/meet some of the desert plants in bloom and critters out for a meal or sunshine warm-up (or night-time glow-up: scorpions, under blacklight). There was one grass that I’d grown fond of; I loved that it had a habit of sending its pink and green tassles off at funny angles. It resonated: I often feel like I’m at a funny angle. (Or at least, my curls are.)

I’d tried several times to use my iPhone’s Seek app to identify this grass by species, to no avail.

YET! In the pre-breakfast morning sun, I got an ID on this weird little plant: Bouteloua gracilis.

Its common name? Blue grama.

Grandma? Really? When a few days prior, fate tossed me a hint to look to my female ancestors?

No. “Grama,” is a Spanish word for grass, and “blue,” for plants, is often used to describe pink or purple coloring. This shorty isn’t named after anyone’s Nana.

And yet: I was wrapping up a long weekend with a bunch of smart, funny, strong, loving and beautiful people, led by two similarly amazing human guides. Why not enjoy that this goofy little plant validated the suggestion to seek meaning in my mothers?

What I know about my two actual grandmothers: they were both mothers, but also professional nurses, as was Mom. Healers.

Well then. I wasn’t thinking of Blue Grama when I took more yoga training in November, nor when I am now cooking up ideas for workshops or retreats of my own. Nor was I thinking of healing or evolving my relationship with plants, when I registered, several months ago, for an herbalism course, here in Albuquerque that began this week.

But doesn’t this look, in some way, like seeking connection with the healers and women I come from?

Cool. Full(ish) circle.

That is, until yesterday, when I firmed up some plans to spend time with a few cousins. These relatives include one cousin who is female, older than me, and has love and knowledge to share, which I in turn will likely pass along to another woman, and others, even if I don’t have children of my own. She may even have stories about one of my grandmothers.

Getting that trip onto my calendar makes me so excited and filled with emotion that … well, I am writing this post. (It’s been awhile, eh?)

Curious about the retreat? (Here are the details for this year’s version, if you want to sign up.)

It was such an enjoyable time, in the desert heat and the mysterious cool comfort in adobe dwellings, making some new friends, learning more about a certain painter, and more about New Mexico. This quote speaks a lot to what we learned and experienced with our eyes, hands and hearts. It’s from one of O’Keeffe’s mentors:

“The subject is in you, Nature gives the suggestion.”
-American painter, printmaker, and photographer, Arthur Wesley Dow

Our activities included:

• A few hours each day with artist and teacher Sarah Brokke, looking at nature and working with composition, color, and acrylic paint, to learn just a little bit about Georgia O’Keeffe’s method and life. The locale chosen for this retreat weekend was Ghost Ranch, a retreat and learning center where O’Keeffe lived and worked for many years. At our disposal for drawing and painting subjects was nature, and often, the exact same objects that O’Keeffe used. Picture: shadowy-edged rusty mesas and rocks, gnarled trees, unexpected delicate flowers, melodramatic skies, that dusty, warm color palette of north central New Mexico.
• A field trip to the O’Keeffe Museum in Santa Fe
• A soak at a hot spring
• A private concert given by our guide, Mary
• A daily yoga practice
• Delicious, nutritious, vegetarian meals
• Evening walks. It was a very hot week at Ghost Ranch, so we opted out of daytime hikes on the plentiful trails.
• We frequently got buzzed by hummingbirds (do humans ever get pierced by those beasts?). And by coyotes, laughing at night, just outside our windows
• Impromptu dance party. Some fun with light, skulls and cameras. A show of the art we made

“Nourish” is coming up often for me. Nourishment is something that you need to consume, to thrive. Nutritious food is an obvious one, for all of us. Outside of that, we all need love, too, but then it seems to get more nuanced.

A year and change into this new season of life, I’m connecting with what nourishment means, for me. Getting outside, building relationships with the earth and other people. Maybe helping people to heal.

Playing games with my dogs. (Or letting them sleep on my lap.)

How about you?