I feel like the title of this post would make a great title of a book. Skulk, leash, or earth. It’s difficult to conjure any kind of visual representation of what this possibly could mean. At least, it is for me.
At best, I could imagine – perhaps – Spartacus needing to be placed on a leash if I caught him skulking around somewhere on the earth. You know – skulking where he shouldn’t be skulking. If you ask me, skulking always engenders suspicion, so a leash could definitely be warranted.
At worst, I feel like these three words have absolutely no cohesion to them at all. It wouldn’t surprise me if they were haphazardly harvested by opening three disparate books at random and plucking the first word that jumped off the page.
Yes, actually, that feels like the most likely scenario of how skulk, leash, and earth came to be hanging out together.
I look at these three words and think, “Nope. I’ve got nothing.”
And Yet…
All three have a common denominator, a shared connection that links them all together. What is that connection? FOX. And no, not the television network, either. Each of those words is how one might refer to a group of foxes.
Then as I was sitting here contemplating what I was going to write tonight, a fox yipped a loud, sharp howl just outside our front door. One single yip – so who knows whether there’s a skulk out there. But it did remind me of the tab I’ve had open in my browser for days. The tab with the link to the Wikipedia entry that references these three words.
I’ve wanted to write for weeks about the leash of foxes that live across the road from us. Now is my opportunity. If only they stayed as cute and fuzzy as this little one.
As I wrap up tonight’s post, I have to share a rabbit hole I unexpectedly fell into as I attempted to close with one last reference to an earth of foxes. A light bulb went off somewhere in the recesses of my brain and I wondered if there could possibly be any connection between a group of foxes being called an earth and Eartha Kitt’s name, given that a baby fox is often called a kit. Was there some sly, foxy connection here?
Hahahaha – just as I wrote that, another fox has started yipping.
Close up – Photo: L. Weikel
The Eartha Connection
No, there’s no actual connection between Eartha Kitt and foxes – other than perhaps her foxy demeanor. BUT – interestingly enough, just in doing a quick search, I discovered that her daughter, Kitt, just published a memoir, Eartha and Kitt: A Daughter’s Love Story in Black and White* that was released this month.
I love the genre of memoir. And considering the state of racial awareness (or collective realization of the lack thereof) in our country at the moment, I have to wonder if my musings were breadcrumbs leading me to discover this book for a reason.
It was certainly a circuitous route. Then again, why did I leave that tab open all this time, with the vague intention of writing this post?
I know today wasn’t the first day of Spring, so the whole ‘in like a lamb’ title to this post might appear premature. But the weather really was quite mild for January 1st.
We rarely venture out over the holidays. But the allure of the mild temperatures and the promise of fulfilling yet another long-standing tradition of a New Year’s Day bookstore run proved irresistible. The added prospect of combining this tradition with our delight in sharing the lights of Peddler’s Village every year provided enough reasons to drag ourselves out of the house.
I’ll give it to Peddler’s Village: the lights did not disappoint. Nor did the Lahaska Bookstore. I revel in the joy browsing in a good bookstore brings to my heart.
The photo of this tree in the heart of Peddler’s Village doesn’t do it justice. But I’m sharing it nonetheless.
I’m also going to tell you what book I selected for myself and refrain from commentary.
For months, I’ve been receiving messages that it was time for me to make some changes to my “work” in the world.
Some of the pushes have centered on what and where I should be focusing most of my attention, at least in the ‘now.’ Many of the shoves have been to increase my hourly rate for the healing work I facilitate. And a fairly significant number of nudges have come for me to expand opportunities for others to work with me.
On the one hand, I’ve done my best to listen to at least most of these messages.
For instance, I’ve expanded my legal expertise by training to serve as a “Parenting Coordinator,” which is a new role established by local rules in Courts in Pennsylvania. I’ll explain about that another day.
I’ve also been spending more time than I was (which, admittedly, wasn’t any at all) on my next manuscript. The drumbeat on that score continues to grow louder, for I’m still barely devoting any significant time to this task. You might wonder, “What’s the big deal? Just sit down and write it.” And I would agree with you. What is the darn deal?
Immersion
The ‘deal,’ I suppose, is my need for immersion. The books I write are memoir. They require me not only to write about a time and set of circumstances I’ve lived, but also require me – if I’m going to capture those times and circumstances as accurately as possible – to immerse myself in the totality of that time of my life.
I’m not good at skimming the surface. I don’t ‘do’ superficiality well, no matter where it might try to intrude in my life. I’m not one for small talk. I’m not a good pretender. I’m either ‘all in’ or I’m not in. And that goes for my writing, and my writing process, as well.
So when I’m working on my manuscript and basically writing from a place of ‘where my head was’ and ‘how I felt’ back then, it is like riding an old fashioned tilt-a-whirl to go back and forth from ‘that’ life to ‘this’ one. I get jerked back and forth from one reality to another. Karl can probably attest to this best, as he can tell when I’ve been working on my manuscript. Out of the blue, sometimes, I’ll snap at him and dredge up something that’s long been over. He’ll look at me with astonishment and, having been in it and reliving it all day, writing about it and remembering our conversations, I’ll be like, “What? Don’t you remember? Did you really do that?”
Ha – great fun. Not.
It’s fresh for me, when I’m writing about it. It’s long gone down Karl’s memory hole, for him, though. So going back and forth is hard. And I resist it. Which leads to procrastination. For years. Hence, I need to give myself permission to just be in it, and with it, and give it the chunk of time I need.
I’m hearing that message. Really.
But on the other hand, there’s the elephant in the room: my hourly rate.
Photo: audubon.org
Elephant = Time + Intensity + Hourly Rate
I’ve been offering shamanic work to the public for 15 years. In that time, I’ve not raised my hourly rate even once (once I started charging at all). For the first two years, I offered my work for free. Then I started charging my current rate: $110/hour.
Because my sessions are unique, they often last an average of 4 to 6 hours – and because that’s an average, yes, some sessions go even longer.
By the same token, because my sessions are unique, when a person comes to me with an issue (or mainly, just a ‘knowing’ that something is awry and needs to be addressed) we stick with it until we get to the root of it. I listen – and help my client listen to their own self – until we get a sense of how their life has woven together the unique picture, circumstances, and – often – wounds that brought them to my door. And then we – but mostly Spirit and their own soul – work together to heal what we’ve discovered.
A Session Is Usually a One-Time Deal
It is rare that a client comes back with the same issue. This work is profound and very often life changing. Almost always, clients feel as though they’re starting an entirely new chapter in their life after a session.
After the session, I write a comprehensive follow-up email that describes what happened during the shamanic/energetic portion of the session. (That’s the part during which the client simply lays down, sets their intention, and let’s the good stuff happen.) It usually takes me 2.5 hours to write it all down, because – as I mentioned above – I don’t ‘do’ superficial. Yes, I’ve managed to take notes while doing the shamanic work. But often I have to get myself back into the ‘place’ I went in order to fully flesh out the notes I took. I need to once again immerse myself in the energy of the session.
Follow-Up Emails are Precious
I’ve found, especially lately (perhaps because I’ve seen and heard from some people recently who were my earlier clients), that those follow up emails hold more information in them than I could’ve realized at the time I wrote them. That’s because things that might not have made total sense (or even a little sense) at the time – to either me or my client – have come to have startling significance upon being re-read years later. So these emails are precious.
And I never charge for the hours I spend the next day, writing them.
My Rates are Going Up
And so it is that I am finally heeding the pokes and prods I’ve received for well over a year, with increasing frequency lately. I am increasing my hourly rate to $350/hour, effective June 30th, 2019.
I realize that this is significant. I realize it may feel daunting. But I also know the shifts I’ve seen in people’s lives; the transformations people have chosen to embrace. And I know the toll it takes on me to provide this work in the deep, precise, and loving manner I do.
Out of My Comfort Zone
Raising my rates drags me out of my comfort zone. So don’t be fooled – this is not a decision I’ve made lightly. In fact, there’s a whole story that goes with how I was doubting myself right up until this morning when Spirit literally plucked a card from my Medicine Card deck as I was shuffling (and asking for guidance one last time on whether I really should follow through with this rate increase) and plopped it into the birdbath I was standing beside.
I’ll write about that tomorrow, though.
(Oh – and remind me to tell you about the new opportunity to work with me one-on-one!)
