~ from cats, dogs and nature to the flowering of body, mind and spirit ~

Tuesday, November 30, 2010

Lady of the Lake


I rest under a sheet of ice, leaves upon my skin, as I press my hands against the pane, prints merge with dark, decaying matter, smearing.

I rest beneath the dying foliage, disintegration forms a second layer upon my skin, lightly marking me with its offering of the past now gone.

A time to reflect and release. The cool, dark blue of the lake where I float supporting me between depths of emotional womb and the transformation that awaits me. I breathe and taste the acrid, bitter waters infiltrated by the crumbling leaves, their once-glorious colors now drab and dull as they let go of what they once were, no longer of use. They permeate my flesh,melting into it from pressure and the natural merging of that which was into the present that is.

As I die to the past, accepting, beneath the smudges and sticky, withering of what was, I feel hands reach toward me, hands of new opportunity, new love, new life, that reach under my head and shoulders so that I don't sink into the lake's depths but rest easily in the moments of transformation, and then light emerges from my own fingers, drawn from within, from my own depths of Being, light that reaches out to touch the light reaching in, spreading, awakening.

The pane of ice once pressing me into death is lit and melts into the waters, taking with it the remnants of leafy past as the bits slide down my skin, slimy but no longer cold, no longer between but rising in the light, I feel the weight falling away as I rise into the air, the wind teasing my freed skin, the dawn on the horizon heralding a new moment until I no longer feel my light within and the light without as separate. We are One. We join even though we were never really apart, only a perception that kept us away from each other.

I am the new life rising from the leafy compost.

I am the new life emerging from the cold lake.

The light of opportunity and new growth spreads out from every part of me into all areas of the world around. Smiling, I move into and merge with Her and we awaken all to Her Glory and Grace in the new moment, new day, new life, the new age of Light and Love.
______________
I wrote the preceding based upon the Soul Card I drew blindly from the deck this morning. I wanted to feel a different catalyst, a different stimulant to my morning pages of writing. To see an image and write what I see and feel and imagine. I enjoyed the process! A beautiful way to tap into my roots. My life is a blend of so many aspects and concepts, directions and stillness, noise and silence. The merging can sometimes feel like chaos when I don't make space to rest. Rest not only physically, but also emotionally, mentally and spiritually. In my younger years I easily vacillated between hysteria and depression, extremes that were exhausting and carried me more than once to the brink. I think that is why I moved from home to home sometimes - the change was forced movement and transformation that pulled me out of stagnation or a vicious cycle of ups and downs and one that allowed new energy to flow through me.

As I sat down to post my writing on this blog, I went to Deborah's web site to provide a link for her Soul Cards. Awareness of the synchronicity in life is important to me so let me share this one with you...

I bought my deck of cards over 12 years ago, and turned to them regularly for a while. However, until I saw a soul card image on Divine Sparks last week, I had forgotten about them. So, this morning, I pulled my first card in years and, guess what, the image (out of a possible sixty images) I pulled is the same one used on the cover for her DVD "Through The Veil: The Story of Touch Drawing" -- there are no accidents, and, since I have been drawn to drawing lately, using my iPad to draw with my fingers as it so happens, I will be ordering some of Deborah's materials to see where they lead me!

___________

Monday, November 29, 2010

relativity


During the long holiday weekend, I was contemplating relativity. How pain (physical, mental or emotional) is relative; some people have a so-called low threshold while others have a high one. But what does that really mean? It's comparison. And how can one seriously compare one person's pain to another's? It's all relative, because we are each unique.

Pema Chodron says: "We can meet our match with a poodle or with a raging guard dog, but the interesting question is -- what happens next?" (from "When Things Fall Apart")

And isn't that the true meaning; not the comparison but how we respond to our own experience of the pain or however a limitation or challenge presents itself?

Do we use the pain or suffering, situation or dis-ease, to become our identity?
Do we create groups based upon this identification?
If so, do we set ourselves apart from others by saying "you can't know how I feel because you haven't experienced this?"
Do we use it as an opportunity for growth or rebirth?

Sunday, November 28, 2010

Buttons


Attach a button
Limply drooping
Thread is looping
Stitched with love

Tin of buttons
Colors gleaming
Metals beaming
Family

Hole for button
Gathered into
Twisted through
Together

Fancy or plain
Big button or small
Without the hole
Nothing at all

Without the whole...Nothing

I was sewing a button on one of Ron's shirts this morning, and felt so peaceful, so at ease. I found myself sinking into those few minutes with total attention, watching the thread on the needle attaching the button, pulling it closely. The simple act of caring for the clothing of a loved one, something that protects and covers and embraces. The tiny stitches that make such a big difference. I remember the tins of buttons Grandma had; they were like a glorious, colorful world of plastic and metal and wood, and sounded like a tamborine! And, yet, without something to connect with, the buttons are not whole, they are loose and disconnected, pretty without purpose, a substance without love.

_____________

GRANNY'S BUTTONS
free photo © Mike Weidman | Dreamstime.com


Thursday, November 25, 2010

Grace


There is a beautiful song called "I Say Grace" by Hayley Westenra, the chorus is
I say grace for the blue painted sky
I say grace for my lucky stars that shine
When I look back on the road that I've traveled down
I say grace for the love that I have found

So much to be grateful for, so I join with others in saying Grace...

I say grace for each moment, every day, that is filled with abundance,
I say grace for the miracles and gifts of Mother Earth and the world beyond form,
I say grace for Ron, the companionship of animals, family, community,
I say grace for enough .... food, home, safety, security,
I say grace for my body and its ability to grow, change, transform and be flexible,
I say grace for feeling love, peace, joy, creativity and confidence to Be my Self 'as is',
I say grace for the increasing awareness of acceptance and non-attachment,
I say grace to embrace, release, and be still.
I say Grace.
_/\_

Wednesday, November 24, 2010

Of Caves and Mountains


Lying in bed this morning, I pulled the covers over my head and thought about how much I like huddling in the darkness, curled up into fetal position, held within the warm, dark, soft, soothing nest, no external impressions hurtling at me. (I can sometimes feel that way during Sadhana or after Yoga practice where I’m still, quiet, deeply within.) It’s sublime to sink into the dark, the earth, the rock, to feel the closeness of the ground, the elements that nurture. In my mind, that’s where I am. Yet, on top of a mountain, I revel in the contrast of being able to sense so deeply, while also to feel so exuberant, where all is open and wide and infinite in possibility and ever so limitless, unbounded, and unrestricted where I can soar...and then come back to rest in my cave.


I skim over the-in-between that feels so temporary and transitional, while cave and mountain top bring the extremes of pure sensation and connection. The-in-between feels rushed and hectic and lacking in reality, like just passing through, but the opposites are incredible and like a Cave Swiftlet, I often swoop back and forth betwixt them without tasting the-in-between, without staying long enough to be pummeled by the pressures and chaos and intensity of the heat which is always uncomfortable, the fire and water, mixing but not mixing, straining and pulling, and sharp, feeling like knives that pierce and weight that sinks and constricts and drowns all the air from my body, yet the light above, on the mountain top is purely refreshing, nourishing, providing the light I need to rise up, and the dark cave in which I nest, that cradles and protects, is nurturing, safe, rejuvenating.


______________


Cave Swiftlets (one variety of which there are many)

I saw these amazing little fork-tailed birds (some have a square tail) on one of the nature shows a long while back; they are delightful, and I do hope that that governments start monitoring more closely the harvesting of their ‘edible-nests’ so that the birds don’t become endangered.

Tuesday, November 23, 2010

Writing Into Self


From self (little 's')
impressions
experiences
thoughts
emotions
without space

Into Self
exploration
diving into the well
tapping the aquifer
filmy tendrils seeking
with space

Saturday, November 20, 2010

She'll Be Comin' Round the Mountain When She Comes


That old tune popped up,
musty, dusting itself off as I sat down to write...
Plans and ideas and research loom ahead.
New vistas, renewed lives.
Colorado?
New Mexico?
Arizona?
Utah?
Tennessee?

Hmmm...



Friday, November 19, 2010

Rocky Mountain High


I was pleased to discover that the John Denver song “Rocky Mountain High” was adopted as another Colorado State Song in 2007. I’ve always loved this song, well, okay, I confess that I love all of John Denver’s music, but this has been our family’s ‘vacation song’ since it’s release in 1973. Although I was born in Missouri, and lived my junior high and high school years in Kansas, ever since I was a toddler Mom and Dad had been taking us to the Rockies for summer vacations.


And then, we were able to actually move to Colorado in my late teens! I lived there, up and down the front range, for twelve years. It’s likely that, if I hadn’t met Ron in 1999, I would already be back living in my beloved Rocky Mountains. Alas, they will have to wait for me, and I for them, until circumstances allow us to be together once more. While Maine is a very nurturing location, which is a big part of why I moved here the second time, the Rocky Mountain range is where I feel most invigorated and energized; it is where the sacred and the imaginal merge into an incredible euphoria. There is simply nothing else for me like walking/hiking the Rockies. Resting in the rocks, being with the beauty, viewing the visionary splendor. Being there, I am truly home elementally.


Meanwhile, I plan on making some trips out there in the near future, to commune with the energy of the Rockies. And I listen to John Denver regularly! His songs take me home to Colorado, the Rockies, and to the memories of fun-filled family vacations. My latest novel also is set in Colorado, which allows me to visit that locale regularly!


All I have to do is close my eyes, and the Rockies are there in my heart, mind and soul. The Rockies are Gaia, Mother Earth, in a form that resonates within me on all levels, from the crisp, thin air, to the magnificent jagged rocks, to the glorious pines and firs, to the hardy grasses and the delicate flowers in their often solitary innocence and uplifting beauty. Truly...Rocky Mountain High.


He was born in the summer of his 27th year

Comin' home to a place he'd never been before

He left yesterday behind him, you might say he was born again

You might say he found a key for every door


When he first came to the mountains his life was far away

On the road and hangin' by a song

But the string's already broken and he doesn't really care

It keeps changin' fast and it don't last for long


But the Colorado rocky mountain high

I've seen it rainin' fire in the sky

The shadow from the starlight is softer than a lullabye

Rocky mountain high


He climbed cathedral mountains, he saw silver clouds below

He saw everything as far as you can see

And they say that he got crazy once and he tried to touch the sun

And he lost a friend but kept his memory


Now he walks in quiet solitude the forest and the streams

Seeking grace in every step he takes

His sight has turned inside himself to try and understand

The serenity of a clear blue mountain lake


And the Colorado rocky mountain high

I've seen it rainin' fire in the sky

You can talk to God and listen to the casual reply

Rocky mountain high


Now his life is full of wonder but his heart still knows some fear

Of a simple thing he cannot comprehend

Why they try to tear the mountains down to bring in a couple more

More people, more scars upon the land


And the Colorado rocky mountain high

I've seen it rainin' fire in the sky

I know he'd be a poorer man if he never saw an eagle fly

Rocky mountain high


It's Colorado rocky mountain high

I've seen it rainin' fire in the sky

Friends around the campfire and everybody's high

Rocky mountain high


_________

The following video isn’t great quality but the audio is good, and it ends with John singing “Rocky Mountain High” after first telling his story of how the song came to be. Beautiful.




However, the next video below includes some fabulous photos of the Rockies, including unique sites like Mesa Verde and Garden of the Gods, plus a few views of Denver. The photos are beautifully choreographed to a later rendition of the song; a nice version, a little peppier, although I still prefer the original.



____________

ALTA LAKE (H)
free photo © Mike Norton | Dreamstime.com


Thursday, November 18, 2010

The Father Story


Several months ago, I attended a writing retreat. There I discovered 'unfinished business' with my father who had died two years ago. This came as a surprise to me although there was nothing dramatic, but rather subtle energies, or threads, that were loose in the fabric of that relationship. Since then, I have begun exploring The Father Story in my own life, and that of others through various means.

For instance, I bought a copy of "Daughters of Saturn ~ From Father's Daughter to Creative Woman" by Patricia Reis; I enjoyed reading an earlier work of the author's so was drawn to this one, being so on topic. I'm struggling through it, however, since much of it feels stiff, starched and sterile; I'm not sure why. Am I resisting it on some level?

Interestingly, the latest novel I'm writing is a 'father story' in many respects. This wasn't my intent originally, but since it was already leaning that way, I will go with that flow and expand upon this sub-theme; I will open to it and see where it leads the characters.

Now that I've opened to this exploration, I'm curious to discover the nuances of how Dad and our traditional-values home may have influenced me in ways I had not considered earlier in my life.

This is a new aspect of my journey. I rest peacefully in the present, yet remain curious about the past ... The Father Story.

I wonder how many of us have 'unfinished business' with our fathers?

Wednesday, November 17, 2010

To Be Beautiful As Is


Acceptance of others or Self "as is" is a beautiful practice in and of itself. Only from deep within that acceptance can each of us, if we choose, move toward that which we aspire through specific practice; not accepting first the inherent beauty of "as is" can bring heartache. Some of us are fireflies...others are wildfires...all are stars and beautiful. As Tagore says "the stars are not afraid to appear as fireflies" -- Light/Source are One/Same.

These thoughts were prompted when I read a post by Clarissa Pinkola Estes on fb called "When the mind is present, all else is made easier." What was striking was that I began reading, and nodding my head in agreement, but then I was surprised as I came to a point wherein she said that our culture says our gifts are "good enough as is" and CPE said "I see that cultural trope as wasteful."

The first comment caught me off guard because that has not been my own personal experience or observation in the world; quite the contrary, as I've seen the over-culture hammer into its members repeatedly that no one is "good enough" and that we are pushed and pushed to excel, exceed, be better than others, achieve, succeed, etc. I see children pushed constantly to be competitive and feel not good enough. Those who do not buy into this mentality are themselves seen as less than, or a waste of space.

I feel it is vitally important to realize that each of us, and our gifts however they are expressed, is beautiful "as is."

Where we go from there is is purely a matter of individuality; from acceptance, we can remain in the bliss of "as is" or, if we desire, continue a practice to grow our gifts. But neither is better or wasteful.

To recognize our gifts, accept and embrace our gifts, in love, compassion and peace, sharing this loving contentment with others, is beautiful.

Someone who is driven and passionate may find it curious that another person is content and peaceful in their own nature. With this comes acknowledgement and acceptance of our individuality as manifest in this world; to accept how the elements have blended uniquely within each of us, some having more Fire, others more Earth.

It is not necessary for Earth to struggle to light Fire after Fire against her Nature. Rather, to nurture the spark always there, in its own Light. To bring a Sattvic* quality within, however the Nature has become manifest. That is beautiful - for each of us to find the Sattvic qualities of our own elemental nature.

_______
As I later explored some of my favorite blogs, Ivan at Poetry Chaikhana shared:


This moment
This LOVE
comes to rest in me,
many beings in one being
In one wheat-grain
a thousand sheaf stacks.

Inside the needle’s eye
a turning night of stars.
This moment –
This LOVE.
~ Rumi
I felt like this lovely, brief poem carried within it incredible peace, the "turning night of stars" that reside "inside the needle's eye" settling me from my earlier upset.

____________________

*Sattva, as the light of consciousness, seeks to impart balance through clarity of perception, right action and spiritual purpose. Sattva is balance.

Tuesday, November 16, 2010

Reconnection


We met 20 years ago, when I moved to Maine the first time.
We worked at the same law firm, she on one side of the floor, me on the other.
Opposites, who would have thought we would become friends?
A mutual love of animals drew us together.
Joy in our conversations connected us on another level.
Companionship.
I moved away and we missed each other; we talked.
I left a man I loved who didn't love me.
I moved back to Maine again, and she was here for me.
She left a man she had loved for years.
We shared, laughed, cried, hugged, supported each other.
She introduced me to my soul-mate.
I encouraged her to become acquainted with her soul-mate.
She married; I married.
She births a child and we drifted apart; he grows and so do we.
We are reconnecting on old and new levels.
("Life is Change. Growth is Optional. Choose Wisely." ~ Karen Kaiser Clark)
Words so true. Awareness so important. Action so necessary.
Reconnection.
We talk and revisit a topic of decades ago.
Being little old ladies together...with cats...and maybe a dog or two...
(She gave me this pin many, many years ago; it resides in my treasure box.)
Reconnection.

Sunday, November 14, 2010

Choices


Where to go?!
Crete?
Alaska?
Arizona?

My heart and soul, the adventurous, creative, imaginative and spiritual yearnings of Self, says Crete.
The practical me, the learner, the one who takes joy in education and in learning new ways to use self-healing modalities, says Alaska or Arizona.

Choices.
All happening in the spring.
To choose one.
How?
Ultimately, the choice seems to be whether to explore the unknown which may produce sudden, profound shifts, or to continue upon the safer path at a more sedate pace.


_________________
CRETE: LOVELY ANCIENT DWELLING
free photo © Marc Dietrich | Dreamstime.com

Saturday, November 13, 2010

Glimmering


Toss up.
Whenever I start to feel anxious about creating,
I fall back into learning.
Both good.
One is a tantalizing glimpse into Spirit and Self,
the other grounding.
Journey.
A path of heart, less travelled, more glimmering,
or trail of no risk.

__________________
photo Lonely Tree CRETE © Natalja Sidorenko | Dreamstime.com

Thursday, November 11, 2010

Complications


Is it possible that we just keep making things more complicated for ourselves? Even natural healing? What is it about us humans that starts with something simple and then we snowball into making it complex, adding more rules and structure, and things like "if this then do that" until the simplicity that we had begun instead becomes a way to create complex identity?


For instance, take Bach and his flower essences (he is the modern forefather of flower essences). He had these simple intuitive notions of how the average individual could easily use these essences; now we have books that are hundreds of pages long and extensive courses that teach us how to use them. Then there are the many theories and methods as to how to properly use Homeopathic remedies, many of them in conflict with the others. Even pure energy work like Reiki comes from a system that says do it only this way, followed by all these other energy-body work methods that say no do it this way. Ayurveda comes from the beautiful basic simplicity of applying the opposite quality in order to regain balance, yet often requires hundreds of hours of schooling even to do the basics properly according to some of the experts.


And those remedies and methods all came from a person, group or community simply DOING it and then sharing the method they had used, that before long became a rigid system. Where does helpful guidance stop and rigid rules begin? Where does our own intuitive wisdom come into play?


I am all for education and guidelines; I love learning from other people and cultures as to what they have discovered helps to catalyze our inner ability to heal ourselves.


But when, where and how does Ego step aside for true Self-realization and Self-healing? With awareness... we can get out of our own way...


___________________

photo of Sweet Shrub flower in water courtesy C. Sanchez, all rights reserved

Wednesday, November 10, 2010

Working With Light


This segment draws me to it again and again. Below are a few quotes that I have transcribed from the video "Working With Light, Part 2 of 11, by Llewellyn Vaughan-Lee:

“It’s always been there in the background, I think for most people it is either conscience or the spark of intuition, that’s how it comes into most people’s life, there is this conscience, this Light that they can refer to...”


“You find a Teacher and you find a Path ... and then you embark upon the practices of the Path, and then begins the journey of the Soul, until then you had the journey of the Ego, the journey of the Personality, but traditionally, at that moment then, it’s called the Second Birth, the Soul wakes up again in this Life and then you begin the Journey of the Soul.”


“What the Sufis call Light Upon Light ... As you work upon your own Self, and again it doesn’t matter what practices you do, it is the intention behind that matters, your Light grows and it also attracts to its Self another Light, which if you like is the Light of your Divine Potential, that is waiting for you to be lived.”


These are incredibly inspiring energies. And I believe that a "teacher" (or "teachers") may appear in many guises, maybe only once for a few hours do we sit in their presence, or maybe they share their wisdom, sight, and Light through their words in book, audio or video. Energy and Light require no form; if we are open to their vibrations, they will resonate within. Once we connect, the thread is created.

To know, really know, the Light of Self, and to become aware and awakened to how to live the Light of Divine Potential, is a gift beyond measure.

_____________________
The above clip is availabe on YouTube; or you can visit Working With Oneness.

Tuesday, November 9, 2010

Silence is Golden (Armor)


Here in Maine, on our couple of wooded acres in the country, the power was out from Sunday night around 11:30 until this morning at 8:30. This was the result of a wild storm that blew through with its gully-washer rainfall and tree-felling winds. Yesterday, I was home all day, blissful within the resounding silence. Not simply the auditory silence, but the energetic silence as well as it seeped into my very deepest aura and tissues.

We bought a generator a couple years ago, but I'm not comfortable running it so during the day I stay without power, occasionally turning on the small propane space heater for a few minutes to maintain warmth, and then off it goes again (without electricity, the space heater cannot monitor itself and so would run full on if I didn't turn it back off). I sat in a chair near the window so that I could read, not my usual spot, and noticed both of the boys staring me as if to say "Mom, why are you over there?" (photo).

I'm always surprised at the intensity of the peace that descends when we are without power during the week, as happens generally several times a year, usually in winter. Since we live out in the country, once our neighbors leave for work and school, and thus the various generators are all turned off, the silence that settles is profoundly nourishing.

This time, however, something happened that caught me off guard. After spending the entire day yesterday reading and writing in silence, other than the occasional noises of our dogs and cats, when Ron returned home from work and turned on the generator, I found myself increasingly restless and almost agitated. We went to bed early (no generator) and I slept straight through, reveling in the deep darkness and serene silence. Waking at 5 to put the dogs out, Ron then got up to start the generator as he got ready for work. And my agitation started to rise again! I suddenly realized that, while the transition to silence didn't bother me, the sudden increase in electricity in our environment apparently did! Wow. And then, just as I was relaxing again after he left (generator off), our power came back on.

This time I was ready though. :-) I promptly pulled out my bottle of Golden Armor, put some drops in a glass of water, and started sipping it. Ahhh. Shortly thereafter, I began feeling more 'normal' and I will continue to sip the water the rest of the day to assist in my transition back into the modern environment rampant with electromagnetic fields. Don't get me wrong, I really enjoy all the wonders of our technology and the conveniences that they bring. And our house has plenty of those! LOL Nevertheless...

... I do so treasure the silence when it comes for a visit ...

Sunday, November 7, 2010

Orange Stocking Cap


"Don't forget to wear an orange stocking cap on your walk," Ron says.

"But it's Sunday!" I protest.

"Doesn't matter," he says. "This is Maine."

(((sigh)))

Saturday, November 6, 2010

Connections Across the Pond


I watched the character-driven 1987 movie "84 Charing Cross Road" this week and was struck by how the relationship between these two people mirrors in so many ways some of the connections that have grown between myself and people I have met through email. I used to love having pen pals when I was a kid, and so naturally was drawn to emailing. But the gift I had not expected was for deeper connections to develop between us when we had never even met! I feel so close to some of these people, and this reveals how beautifully energy can flow across the land and sea, uniting spirits drawn to one another. We share hopes and dreams, trials and sadness, and with our words are joined in a space of true appreciation, respect, compassion and love.


In the movie, Frank is reading a poem by Yeats while thinking of Helene; I had to pause the movie so that I could read the poem slowly, several times:


Had I the heavens' embroidered cloths,

Enwrought with golden and silver light,

The blue and the dim and the dark cloths

Of night and light and the half-light,

I would spread the cloths under your feet:

But I, being poor, have only my dreams;

I have spread my dreams under your feet;

Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.


~ He Wishes For The Cloths Of Heaven by William Butler Yeats


Isn't that incredible? A beautiful poem to share the love between those who have somehow connected, not just ‘lovers,’ because love in its purest form is a divine gift: a sharing of souls, a treat of thoughts, a dish of dreams. Like one of Yeats’ heavenly threads, we may find ourselves drawn to connect with those hundreds or thousands of miles away. And realize that our words can harm or cause pain.


So, no matter who they are, let us "tread softly"...

Friday, November 5, 2010

shooting star synchronicity


This synchronicity thing always amazes me. Let me share...

I was so drawn to a passage (quoted below) last week in Women Who Run With the Wolves by Clarissa Pinkola Estes PhD that I had marked it clearly for future reference. Then, while writing on my new novel yesterday, I needed to depict an alpine flower so I googled and found one that was striking and I was immediately drawn to it. I checked to see if there was already an essence for it in one of the various flower essence lines - yes. And what does it address? Quite similar issues that were triggered for me in the passage I had marked only last week; specifically, I felt that the essence could address and support the sensation of unity we need in order to live in both worlds, not to feel alienated from the “topside life” but to find the balance within for living and loving in both. Love it. Needless to say, I ordered a bottle of the Shooting Star Flower Essence!

_________

CPE is talking about journey and transformation and initiation and says...

“A woman, at this time, is often torn in two directions, for there comes over her an urge to wade into the forest as though it is a river and to swim in the green, to climb to the top of a crag and sit face into the wind. It is a time when an inner clock strikes an hour that forces a woman to have sudden need of a sky to call her own, a tree to throw her arms about, a rock to press her cheek against. Yet she must live her topside life as well.

“It is to her extreme credit that even though she many times wishes to, she does not drive her car into the sunset. At least not permanently. For it is this outer life that exerts the right amount of pressure to take on the underworld tasking. It is better to stay in the world during this time rather than leave it, for the tension is better and tension makes a precious and deeply turned life* that can be made no other way.” (p. 453)

_____________
photo copyright Richard Katz, FES

Thursday, November 4, 2010

to journal


Almost every morning, after I've fed the fur-kids and settled them, I sit down with my journal to explore what I need to express and get out. Earlier this week, my 15-year-old niece had posted on fb that there was so much she wished she could say, yet, like many today, and especially teenagers, finding focus and space are challenging. I reminded her that, even if she couldn't speak the words aloud, to at least find time to write them...write and express all that she wished she could say so that it didn't fester within.

I have been writing in a diary or journal since Dad gave me an elegant blue velvet diary the Christmas when I was in third grade. From that moment on, although not always regularly, I have expressed myself through the written word more often, and received more comfort from the practice, than via talking to other people. For some reason, I feel like when I'm writing, the listening is far more powerful.

For the past year or so, ever since reading "The Artist's Way", I have taken my journaling to a different level through my Morning Pages -- the three pages I write as "brain drain" and to explore or express or expel from my cells that which might congest. Sometimes it is stream of consciousness, at others mundane tasks ahead of me, or conscious reflection upon an experience, but the experience, the practice, is always beneficial. And by having a tiny bit of structure to the practice, i.e. three pages, I build focus in spite of any distractions that come up during the writing (which easily happens living with four dogs and four cats!).

I thought when I began this blog that I would use it also as a 'practice', however, typing is not the same for me as handwriting and so I generally express through my journal, and then share only trickles of life or thought on this blog rather than the full stream. And that's okay. This blog is a condensed version! Further, while I do have the occasional 'dark day' in my journal, I choose not to share those thoughts publicly, although I know that many others do so. I would rather bring the Light of my Life out into the world, while the Dark is processed more privately...for now.

Indeed, this blog is merely representative of my Light in firefly form...out there whether others see the glimmers or maybe not, yet nevertheless the Light shines just as bright. And this is true in life as form as well; we do not always know how our lives affect others.

Tagore says even "the stars are not afraid to appear like fireflies"...

Wednesday, November 3, 2010

Caring for Gaia


Last night, when we voted, I wished that I could vote a resounding 'yes' for everyone on the increased conservation referendum. And this morning's Thought for the Day followed in that vein with a quote from Hildegard von Bingen: "The earth which sustains humanity must not be injured; it must not be destroyed." HvB was a wise woman, healer, herbalist, composer (her Canticles of Ecstasy as presented by the group Sequentia are incredible - I often listen to this album first thing in the morning), and visionary, as well as a nun.

I pledge to continue and improve upon my own personal efforts to nourish, sustain and honor Gaia.

Monday, November 1, 2010

Sending Healing Energy


Mom is in hospital for the next few days; she had knee surgery this morning. So I thought I would share something I do when I wish to send continual healing energy to someone near or far (in this case, I'm in Maine and Mom is in Missouri).

First, during Sadhana, I fill a bowl with water and salt, and infuse it with the healing energies of mantra and Reiki. I add the flower essences that are being called. Then, I add whatever stone or other element may be asking to be included (in Mom's case today, a white stone and a sand dollar) in the bottom of the bowl. I follow this by lighting a floating candle in the bowl. Thus, all the elements are participating in the healing energy that is being sent on the wings of a prayer and a blessing for One and All.

For our highest good
For the good of all
According to the free will of all

May we all be at peace
May our hearts remain open
May we awaken to the light of our own true nature
May we all be healed
May we be a source of healing for each other and our world

_______
Thank you to Jan over at Awake Is Good for today's timely reminder about candle rituals.
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