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The Omega – Nourishment to the End

Omega – The Great End

In my 49 life I am stressed and overwhelmed by the to-do-list, sometimes it is triggering. I am a carer, a wife, a sister, a friend, a holistic health practitioner and sometimes a spiritual artist. If I could spend my days meditating, crafting and napping oh I would! but this earthly existence has other ideas.

Wellbeing and Menopause Symptoms

I consider my wellbeing to be an internal garden, this requires nurturing, tending and not to be left un-managed. I am intuitive and seem to be crafting my way through this life so why wouldn’t menopause be any different. I have entered this mid-life phase feeling like my years of PMS have become the signs of my menopause. The fatigue, the overwhelm at the tasks for the day seem to make me sigh with heavy eylashes. I often wonder if the menstrual cycle of my earlier, maiden years was a signal to what I would be experiencing through menopause. What if PMS was “pre-menopause signalling”?

The fatigue seems to be the essential point of my feelings throughout my cycling years so no surprise it is the signal in my menopause. This fatigue seems to be the domino effect for the overwhelm and the stress. So I am looking deeper into this as my stating point, or my trigger point.

Menopause and Sleep Quality

Hormonal cycling expert Marilyn Glenville asks us to consider if sleep or lack of it is the cause, to look at our quality of sleep. If we have night sweats, are we waking up feeling hot and sweaty or waking up then getting hot and sweaty, the later relating to glucose dips in the night and so having more carbohydrates before bed. Another consideration is how nourished am I at the end of the day? Am I worried about the lists before bed or satisfied I have completed enough for one day to have a quiet mind to sleep?

Nourishment and Nutrition through the Menopause

When I think about how nourished and fulfilled I am in my day to day existence, my work, my responsibilities I am considering what really am I doing here on earth. Nourishment goes right to the root of the physical aspects and to the higher perspectives, (yes we are talking Maslow here!) I am asking myself if I am nutritionally nourished and soulfully nourished.

This week I have found that fatigue can be a lack of essential fatty acids, the Omegas. I can hear my mind re-routing right through the mackerel fish and seeds to the seeds within the mind (I am so esothetically focused!). It is like the universe is playing upon the need for the physical as well as the spiritual and this is where I am in menopause. We are talking duality between the form and the formless, I don’t think we can separate the physical from the spiritual as we go through menopause! And that is where the root of this thing called menopause comes thundering in. There is no ignoring this shake up in the midlife years, this shift needs and wants to be noticed, nourished even.

Omega, the Greek word for gender neutral has great significance when we speak about the menopause and the fact that the hormones that are essentially feminine and create a cyclical being within us are coming to an end. The Omega also means “the End”. It also has meaning in the word Roots, associated with fulfilment, death and personality traits for introverts, rooting downwards. You see you can’t make this up! Just look up the word Omega and you can see where this goes.

So this week I am considering my fatigue as the root of my overwhelm, and a need for some quiet time and some introverted nourishment of the senses. I have a need to feed my body with the omegas and to have some nourishment for my mind as well as my soul. As the night sky sets with softer hues, I need to prepare for sleep, no screens no tv, to nourish myself with introverted ways. A routine made up of soul nourishment for the end of the day, with meditation, prayer, movement, music and contemplation. And if fatigue arises by day, maybe I could respect the need and still opt for a nap too.

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Heart Resonance

Hear within my heart the whispers of becoming

Sweet Beloved guide the path upon that which you know for me is true

May the rains fall in the dark hours to fill up the rivers

So I can then follow you at the banks of the living waters

When the Light returns once more

Allow me to witness

The seasons of the leaf

That seems to die only to begin upon the richness of the path

That lays beneath my naked feet

Every tread upon your ground then leads me on

With ancient whispering asking me to flow along

Let me see Light as the dawn of opportunities

Like the flowers that open their heart’s fully in your coming strength

Let me feel the inner blossoming of your warmth upon my chest

And when the day is done

May I feel tenderness with the remembrance

Of your embrace

As the river runs, I will be

Gently embedded into my heart once more

As rest comes within your flowing breath

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Waning Cycles

It’s been a funny kinda week. Busy right to the end. And the night time has been too short. In my 49 year I am not so sleep deprived as I was in my early 40s or as hot. Now when I awake at 3am I get up walk to the window and look for the moon. We have had some rampant energies of late with the Lions gate, solar flares and full moon. I have been floored quite flankly at the beginning of August and now as I see the moon in her crescent form I am calm again. I love the waning aspect of the moon, this is my favourite flavour of her cycle. Is it the invitation to retreat into nurturing selfhood? Or is it the charismatic allure from all the folktales and art in this form?
Whatever the reason I am thinking that as I wane in my 49 year with my own rhythmical cycling, maybe I should still honour my moon time in my crone years and follow this moon rhythm of the earth. As my body is an earth body,  what better way than to follow Her.
#guidance #intuitive #spiritualcoaching #49life #menstrual #doula #Menopause #artemis
Image:Google Artemis

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A dreamtime of post menopausal life …

In my 49 life I am searching for a role model, a wise elder in the form of a Hag, in the best, fullest intention of the woman at the edge, the embodiment of the Hag. One who has pushed through the patriarchy and societies fair games into the undiluted vessel of a …… as my friend Kimberley quoted, a Queenager.

I don’t have a need for a knowledgeable teacher or well-read wordsmith. I have a desire, that’s it, a desire to be nurtured into this role-over into the 50somethings, with a storyteller and folklorist.

Today I was remembering the “Mothers” that I have had. By that I mean those who have mothered me, I have no qualms or crisis with my biological Mother, I had a childhood within a village, and this village expanded in my teens to include may women who shaped me….I met some strong, ferocious women, who taught me strong boundaries and determination, to never let a passion die, just because. I have been blessed by nurturing mothers who assisted in the framing of my emotions and how to gentle be with the children, the animals, the silent nuances of the caretaker. I also met with a friend’s unpredictable Mother who skilled me in to how to read the atmospheric dust storm gathering around them. Where their own boundaries were being flick into incitement, a valuable lesson in listening to my friend and when to just exit.

What I now just crave for is that wise elder to gather my attention, as my head is starting to spill, and leak to be honest, and to help me navigate this transformation with their wisdom after all they have been in my shoes and seen others do this before me, they are the experienced helper in this ageing ritual. I wish for help to expand my imagination, enliven me in my wearisome state and to give me a glimpse of the other side of this menopausal transition. I thirst for the folklorist to enchant me over to the otherly. To make my heart swell with the stories of becoming the white-haired women, to fairy-tale along the paths in the woods and weave the strands of consciousness together into a new realmdom of balance and non-linear living.  To sing me the songs of transformed worlds of patriarchy and burning the need for a PhD just to be heard. I thirst for the elders to come bravely out of the fog filled woodlands and along the misty beaches shaking their rattles and sounding the drums to gather us around a fire. This is where I will be completely engaged with the storytellers, the well-keepers and the seeding earth dwellers who will gather and our days will be spent listening to the Earth Elders. Our chastised endeavours will no longer sit within us as unmaterialised, for we will learn of our inner sovereignty as “within us all along” as the Fairy Godmother always says at the end of a good tale. Our transformations will be in the form of inner knowings, remembrances, experience and oral traditions and seasons once more. Our new career trajectory will be based on heart compassing passions and journeying rather than a well executed bibliography. I have instead a thirst for juicy language and taking a seat within a circle where every seat is equal. I have a thirst for the magical over intellectual pursuits and for scrumptious chronicles than research papers. I desire the heady heights of the upper ridges of the mountain tops and pinnacle of the story than the offices of hierarchy. For non-essential processes to be burned away, as some things are just not necessary at the fire keepers hearth. This is my maturing into womanhood, cronehood, at the threshold of 50.

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Burning Times

When you burned, I burned with you

When you buried, I burned for you

In passion in flame in Holy name

I am Forest Father

The nature’s Pater

I burned for you

From ground to up above

Our essence of vapour and resin through the sky

To all sea, bird, creature and pebble nearby

As you changed to spirit on air

With wind and rain

I held our our branches to hold you again

On the arm of Grandfather Oak

Passed down to Mother Doe

To pine to ground

Gathered your spirit around

By branch and heather

In ash and soil in Gods own power to mycelium medicine

Within those resting hours

We hold you in woodland, nature’s roots

We carried you there to earth’s repair

We carried you over through the mighty air

Now sheltered with a canopy

Embedded to sacred ground

To oak, ash, yew and birch

Of Kin and Kith

Dwelling in arms of bark, heart of trunk

Of deer foot and bird above

Held by ivy


With earth beneath you

Water to greet you

Wind to change you

Light to recreate you

Ancestors of root of seed and bud

Growing earthly

Living on

Forest of my blood, evergreen

Forest of Fatherhood