**Ships March 27th**
(A box of surrender; a love song to the flow.) It’s February and I am, once again, drawn to the water’s edge. Basket in hand, I gather seaweed, knee-deep in the frigid water, bringing it home to string up in rows by the open kitchen window. It forms a rhythm like a tide: go out, gather, come in, hang up to dry, repeat. And in the process I spend a lot of time looking out at the sea and thinking (as I am wont to do), about our relationship with water—about how we were, at some point long ago, amoeba that came from the oceans… how in the womb we live surrounded by salty water, and how we are all drawn to it throughout our lives, like a siren’s song is calling us back to the water’s edge.
Water, in our bodies, like on the planet, is mysterious, transforming from one state to another constantly, filling its bounds, spilling outside them when possible, and still, shifting, changing, moving. In nature, water changes from sea to rain to snow to river; the water in our bodies does the same: plasma to interstitial fluid to lymph and back. We are inextricably connected with the water: without it, we’d die; without it, our planet is just a rock floating through space. And yet, the waters, both in the world and in our bodies, are areas of hidden depths— slow, deep and dark, where we are simultaneously drawn to and terrified by what might lurk under there.
The way we treat the waters of our bodies is similar to the way we treat the waters of the world. That is, they are where we bury things that we don’t want to deal with, be it toxin or memory. And the more we bury there, the more sluggish they get: slow, sticky, achy, turbid. But water in our bodies, like water in the world, serves a very important purpose— not only is it our body’s (and planet’s) purification system, it transports messages, hormones, protects us from invaders (immunity) and is tied deeply and irrevocably to our emotions. When it is functioning properly, our immune system is efficient, we transport fats and digest fats properly, we don’t get bloated or swollen, our skin is healthy. When our emotional waters are functioning properly, we feel emotions, express them, let them go, and go back to being free-flowing. But we’re not often taught to express emotions so clearly so we tend to hold things in, express them in explosions or indirectly, and the water that gets stirred up takes a long time to settle, if it does at all. The more we hold our waters back, stop them from flowing, the less clearly we see the world around us— everything is filtered through that trapped water.
Let’s go deeper, still. Water teaches us about surrender. To lie back in the water of the ocean is to surrender yourself to the flow around you, to be lifted and dropped on the ebb of the tide, and to let yourself be carried. We spend so much time fighting, pushing, trying to fight for what we want in life, and it exhausts us. To learn to let go, to trust, is an often terrifying art, and it is one of the incredible lessons of water: to be in the flow of life, connected to the web of existence, to surrender to that flow and become a part of it is just as easy as to push, but it requires a level of letting go and of trust that is often terrifying. The truth is that we’re never really in control, but it’s often easier to try and pretend that we are than to live that truth.
To surrender isn't to give up, it's just to stop pushing where effort is wasted. To surrender isn't to be weak, but to be strong enough to realise you're not in control in the first place. To surrender isn't to give up on getting what you want, but to realise deep inside that you are powerful enough to get there without having to push so hard all the time.
This is a box to connect with your deep waters: to stir up that which is deep and stuck and turbid and muddy. It will be about movement: moving stagnation, dredging up stuck old emotions which are affecting our ability to perceive the world around us clearly. And deeper still, to connect with that deeply receptive, absorbing, hidden and mysterious part of yourself that you know is under there but aren’t sure how to dive into.
I'll be using seaweeds, alder (which grows along the edges of rivers), violet (that gentle, nourishing, moistening spring lymphatic), cleavers, ocotillo (a lovely moving lymphatic), pedicularis (my all time favourite relaxant) and rose (magical tender emotional stagnation mover).
In this box, you’ll receive four products. There will be a tincture or elixir; a tea, a drinkable thing (tea or such); an external use product, be it a bath (or foot bath), body oil or possibly an incense or atmosphere mist; and a culinary item. Possible ideas so far include:
All of this will come wrapped in linen with a bi-fold describing the herbs used, with recipes and an exercise to try.Get your box HERE. (please note this box will be shipping at the end of March)