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

Saturday, March 19, 2011

Blog Hiatus

All good, just a brief break. :-)
I will continue with the last few Soul Cards
on my Journey of Soul Inquiry when I return to blogging.
Bright Blessings to All!

Friday, March 18, 2011

Look Into Her Eyes

look into Her eyes
and see the blue skies
clear and bright
then with stars glowing
in the night
when shift comes 
and the world hums
in wonder flowing
dreams that drift
around or toss
our thoughts
so high they slide
down a rainbow 
into the glistening pool
that waits serene
and at peace between
the forest and the field
where gentle hearts 
join hands without parts
and are Whole

Expressions flowing without catching their tails in closing doors 
or snagging their sleeves upon window sills rough from disuse, 
where splinters caught in tender fingers 
remind us to be aware when 
leaning out open windows 
that always we are exposed yet this is good 
to lean and feel the rush of wind fresh and clean into stuffy spaces, 
the cool ocean breeze or warm shallow zephyr, 
depending upon Her mood, 
that carries us places where only 
She knows our Truth and 
She shows it to Self.
When I look into Her eyes all around, 
upon the ground or skies above, 
I know and see Her Love as I am exposed and continue to express...

Thursday, March 17, 2011

Many Hands of Choice

Many hands create this life, and mine join with theirs in choices and connection and setting each other free to create and build or transform as the lessons are born into each of us. We journey our visions that flow through many hands of choice.Many hands create our world and tear it down so that reconstruction can begin. I move through a life where many hands join together, clasping in love or breaking away by prying the fingers of others off one by one. My hands reach out to touch and soothe the fears because I reach out in compassion even without doing. Many hands create. 

I feel a strong resistance to writing this morning--several mornings actually--yet I know how important it is for me to express in some way what is flowing or flying through me and writing also grounds as it is like sending these squiggles deep into Source, Self, like roots of plants that grow and bloom and fruit as long as they stay connected to Gaia, Earth Mother. Our hands, arms, feet and legs are roots. The many hands are roots ... tendrils that connect physically with other life forms and with Gaia, and energetically they represent the need to touch, to connect on whatever level we are being called. To resist this connection, as I was feeling the resistance to contemplative writing, is indeed an 'act of self-will' and is contrary to our creativity. If I were to ignore writing--rooting--too often or for too long, I would end up floating away, never settling, lacking grounding or connection.

She has many hands that weave our paths and it is ours to choose whether to pull a thread loose or to allow the touch, the connection. Ours to choose whether to ignore Her open palm of peace, Her cradling hands of creativity and love, Her comforting hands of prayer and solace. Many hands of choice.

Wednesday, March 16, 2011

One Heart Dancing

Dance of the Heart.
Dance of the Veils.
She dances in Joy.
From Joy springs the love of life and the presence of peace that shine clearly through the veil of illusion.
She brings Her wings high and One Heart emerges from the sheltering Love that is spread as She flies through each of our lives and dreams.
All is beauty for within the tears are the salts of new life rising from Gaia.
I feel my heart beat with hers in ancient rhythms, gently we dance and sway, creating a world of loving energy as we move together. I listen to the soft drums echoing our heartbeat, to the whisper of seeds in dry gourds shaken in soulful offering to all that is manifest and ethereal, the sweet melody of the flute floats around us lifting and soaring, its message carried upon the four winds and taken up by the feathered ones who carry their own songs of history and love across field and stream and ocean, dropping notes into the depths where salmon and whale and dolphin receive the offering storing the rhythms within their collective memories and souls for all time as they dance within Her waters.
For a moment, I feel all hearts synchronize upon a single beat and the pure perfection of Oneness is shared by All in Love. Hearts dance and die and are reborn into the beating pulse of Gaia.
She shrugs in discomfort and we poison ourselves and Her. She shrugs and we touch our darker selves, going within from outer situations and open to the lessons, open to Her love. Transformation happens and we ride the tide or struggle against it causing more suffering. Yet Her beating heart, filled with love, is always open and ready to renew. The resonance of Her heart, Her life-blood pumping, can cleanse any transgression. 
Her vibrations are Source and therein reside all possibility that is available when we step outside our box of limitations. Energy flows and with the flowing comes a knowing that all is well ... To realize Her love, Her resonance, is a blessing, a tremendous gift of seeing beyond form and within form, to the field of Akashic flowers that bloom whether we see them or not. We open the box, step out, fold it gently and dance upon what was a limiting belief system . . . and the box transforms into the Circle of Life, Her Heart of Love, spiraling and singing itself from nothing to dust to form and back to nothing yet always nothing and everything. 
Open our eyes to Her Dance and we join with Her and the veils no longer disguise but reveal The Real. 
She is my dance partner and we are One, our hearts beating in Love.
I love the voice and music of Joanne Shenandoah; after writing, I found the below video . . .

Tuesday, March 15, 2011

Blood Tears

I stand in the shadow of a rain of sadness spanning the globe, buffered by Her ocean of Love.
Blood of many in the tear drops that fall upon an open heart accepting the pain and tragedy, breathing out a calm centering settled softly yet solidly in Her embrace.
I stand here, feeling the cascades of grief and allow them to flow, allow the release, feeling the suffering of so many as they cry out . . . and I open and allow them to pass through on their way to renewal.
As the rain of grief and fear flows over me, our blood tears shed freely, I remain supported and buoyed by Her loving presence.
From this space--a centered, core space of compassion not drama--I share healing energy and prayers with and for all those in need as they journey.

Monday, March 14, 2011

spiral dance

Mother - Daughter.
Intersecting spirals.
From center outward and from external going within.
Thoughts and feelings arise and meet in the center--balance.
Each graceful wave of her arm is a rainbow arching over the world as we find the beauty always here and now, offering love ad healing without becoming caught in the net that is woven of fear and anger.
Streaming. Thoughts flooding my mind, overwhelming the spillways of the earthen dam that allows pause and reflection. Must continue the process so that it all comes out and drains away so as not to stain the chalice where dreams are being built and nurtured.
With focus in short supply, this streaming allows a focus for eyes and hands and mind follows as the ink flows in lovely curves and spirals and "Cristofori's Dream" plays in the background with piano crescendo and then softening, an incredible ebb and flow to which I find myself swaying. 

Reminding me of the spirals with their graceful turns and sweeps and how all life is thus when we don't resist, we are carried along into the sweeping waltz of the journey that is beautiful and tragic and the yearning that arises to be with Her as She creates our symphony. 
To resonate in perfect harmony, my voice raised with Hers as we are One and seek only love and peace and joy that is so deep it manifests on the other side of the world like the child 'digging a hole to China' . . . 
Depth and clarity arise together. We think of depth as dark and clarity as light but they go hand in hand a best friends forever skipping through the field of flowers spreading to infinity. Amazing to feel Her holding my hand yet knowing that in this moment I am perfect in Self. Strange to realize the connection and separation as one and the same in the arc that shoots across sky and neurons and sparks fly out in grand, glorious communication that cannot be stopped only hidden at times by wearing a blindfold.
There is so much more here and now than I can comprehend and the impact can be a scattering such that everything feels like it is falling apart but in reality--the truth not the illusion--transformation is taking place in space and miracles emerge that are simply Truth that is finally seen and embraced. Fully experiencing the mysteries of each moment is our Mother's gift that we all wear within our hearts and souls like the "coat of many colors that my momma made for me" as the song goes and is spectacular.

Flowing, spiraling, join the dance of life however it is manifesting whether waltz or mambo or polka!
The Spiral Dance. Gaia's Dance.

Sunday, March 13, 2011

She is Ember

Within the thin veil that separates us lies the delicate balance of fire and water.
She is partially revealed yet still dormant, encased in ice, suspended from animation, waiting.
Her face confrontational, her gaze direct and confident--compelling.
I stare in wonder and raise a finger to touch Her cheek, feeling the heat behind the glassy surface and my stroke softens . . . leaves a smear of moisture.
For this moment, She neither moves forward nor backs away, lending Her stillness, temporary though it is,  to my space of hesitation.
She is Ember--La Chispa.

Saturday, March 12, 2011


Aurora Borealis.
Frozen tundra touching mountains of glacial purity.
Crystalline caverns that channel me to Source as She begins Her thaw.
She starts to shiver in shifts that come and go with waves of awareness, yawning chasms emerge.
She feels compassion for the passage of time, knowing the quickening is coming and the deep peace of solitude and silence will fade.
Midnight Sun. Noontime Night.
Night passes by in Her ice blue gown and pink flowing scarves reflecting the warmth that floods Her awakening.
Emerging from hibernation, slow and delicious, waters begin to change from diamonds to tears and trickle down crevices, seep through cracks, moistening, flowing, gaining momentum and creating new channels--new paths.

Such a beautiful SoulCard image and yet my words feel as frozen as the heavy snow that covers the ground outside my window. I enjoy the winter withdrawal, the darkness that envelops me in a warm velvet wrap against the cold that could otherwise be threatening. I love the contrast. From autumn through winter I feel totally in my elements, completely at ease. And yet . . . I need the spring thaw, the summer heat, because otherwise I would sink so easily and lovingly into Her wintry embrace that I might never awaken from my imagination and dreams. I welcome Her cave and experience no depression as I wrap myself in Her cloak of inner exploration. Heaven to lie dormant, still . . . bliss. The snow and cold provide permission to curl upon the couch, cocoon in blankets, sleep long hours, rejuvenate. A short walk in crisp air breathed in deeply expanding lungs to refresh and replace any stagnant air, then back to hearth for more calm and connection. Build a strong inner fire, a light within, during the powerful intense sunlight of summer that will carry me through the long dark nights. Create enough passion to keep the ember glowing, the spark igniting, the candle burning within . . . not a bonfire, just a gentle spreading warmth beneath the surface like Gaia's molten inner core flowing and spinning . . . gently, gently.

Friday, March 11, 2011

Give and Receive

Giving and receiving.
I hold the precious ember in my arms, given to me by She Who Loves.
I give my Soul to Her for safe-keeping when this body tires of its journey.
She gives to me the flower of creativity . . . glowing, blooming, radiant with the light of all that can be.
I share what I have or know with others and She blossoms throughout the universe.
She comes to me when I am still and graces me with Her inspiration--ideas, dreams, feelings, sensations, all are shared with love.
She shares the spark of hope with all who suffer, all who experience pain or loss, all who endure tragedy.
Gaia is stirring, opening Her floodwaters, shifting and stretching as She cleanses the sweat that has become rancid. She is detoxifying and releasing that which no longer serves Her. She shrugs and we all feel her tension increase and then ease.
I enter Her desert and feel the dry heat open my pores and my passion.
I shower in Her rains and bathe in her lakes and am refreshed.
I climb the mountain to inhale Her clear breath.
I walk through the pine forest to find stillness, and eat of Her offerings natural and abundant, feeling my own body stretch with greater ease, shedding the mental and environ-mental pollutants in peace.
And when this is done, I see more clearly Her gifts and my place in Her space; I feel 'la chispa' warming and inspiring--I bring Her light into my Self, welcoming, loving.
All is cyclic, a continuous giving and receiving of energy that flows among our very elemental existence.
Transformation and tragedy share the same dream, the same instant, the same space of Being. I feel the pain come in, hold it, cherish its wisdom, and let it go--free.
Birth and Death.
The ember floats back and forth from Spirit to Form.
Someone created all the objects surrounding and enhancing this elemental life, just as the Infinite brought all life into form. Gratitude wells up for the gifts of creation so abundant all around, and for the bonfire that consumes the no-longer-useful, and the Phoenix rises from the ashes in glorious displays of renewal.
What can be learned from tragedy?
Gaia heaves herself up, straining under the pressures, seeking to regain Her balance just we do.
How many times has She shrugged? How many times has She given birth?
To Infinity.
No ending and no beginning, just giving and receiving, each age an opportunity to experience newness in creative expression wherein lies the heart of wisdom and love. 
I embrace 'la chispa' each morning, each moment, and a new vision is created repeatedly, like a mantra, where we give instead of grasp, where we receive instead of rape. I open to manifesting the Truth I see, sharing within the collective, being and becoming step by step.
Gaia, I gratefully accept this gift of Life and Love . . . La Chispa.

Thursday, March 10, 2011

Imagine All The People

We are One and yet of so many forms and species, and within each of us are many facets, many roles we are playing, many personalities and emotions emerging. Macrocosm and microcosm. Reflections upward and downward, within and without. From out of the vast cosmos we express Creation and our Souls manifest from Infinite Spirit where we all reside, healing through the vibrations of Akash as Source sings life into Creation. Celebrate Diversity! We are all children of Infinite Spirit as our feelings are children of Soul - all are loved. All are blessed. 

There is an earlier post of mine titled Imagine, Entering into Joy that I offer in prayer . . . 

And, while the video below of the gifted David Archuleta singing John Lennon's incredible "Imagine" is not the full song, David's voice is so pure as it carries the message of peace that I had to share it. Enjoy!

Wednesday, March 9, 2011


In my own little world. 
"In my own little corner, in my own little chair..."
Weekday mornings are serene and I feel so contented.
Routine is comforting--reassuring--allowing space where there seemed none before . . . before the day takes off and the mundane joys fly in spreading their pleasures around in pieces, I relish the quiet moments of peaceful solitude after the dogs have been out and the cats have been cuddled and all have been fed, then we curl up, each in our own way, and contemplate the sweet connections between and all life.
Stubborn leaves refusing to release flutter dryly outside the window wearing their old brown coats in striking contrast to the deep white snow that shows milk up as yellow.
Toenails click upon oak floors, tap-tapping the path of a dog across the room seeking her spot on the couch. Sitting in modified lotus in the chair that only I like so it is usually available I smile in reflection, watching. Rolling cat, tossing and stretching on her back reaches out to bat the dog's nose gently and a tail wags. One-eyed feline stare wins and the couch remains hers.
Not much to think because this is the quiet time, the non-productive, in-dwelling space of stillness.
Nothing / Everything
Future undetermined and non-affective to the Now.
Shell strong or fragile in its delicate degrees of flexibility dependent upon species as it simply holds--the container for what will be or not, whether life will grow or merge back into Gaia for another try later. Fertilized? Have there been enough nutrients? Where is the ember, the spark? Did it ignite? Become that which eats or that which is eaten? Decorated or plain, embellished or simple? Crack or Create?
Where will the journey continue and over what moments will I step to get there?
"Ding!" a distant computer calls out its version of the famous "you've got mail." 
Pooka licking his toes noisily.
Sitting. Peace. Breathing in and out, Nadi Shodhana without hands compelling the balance, leading, opening.
Mind starting to scurry. Quiet morning yet already the Big World is reaching its long fingers into my nest, moving the eggs, feeling the weight, measuring the circumference to see where I fit in -- small, medium . . . jumbo?! Will I be removed from the nest before I'm ready? What will be my fate?
To be done to or to emerge from my shell and be the doing? Choices--always. Can I be the egg as well as the actor? What role? Songbird hailed by one and all as remarkable? Turtle with its hard shell and slow-moving manner? Spider weaving her web? Possibilities!
Funny how I have options when I stop to consider--when I pause to reflect, contemplate, and respond from a center openness rather than just react like one of a hundred thousand factory-farm chickens hatched from eggs with no future and with bills snipped and wings clipped and unable to move in a cage so tiny the wire prevents me from turning around . . . 
Where did that last sentence come from? It feels almost angry, certainly frustration bubbling. Interesting how it came only at the very end of the writing, slipped out before the pages ended, like a last ditch effort to be heard. Ian Watson, a wonderful healer, talks about how the most insightful information of a consult can often come at the end when the client's hand is on the door knob and a last remark is tossed out in apparent nonchalance . . .  This is one of the absolutely beautiful aspects of contemplative writing or journaling; to become immersed in the process so that unexpected vibrations are heard and energetic shifts occur without conscious direction. Fascinating.

Khepra Catching the Morning Light
And I have to share the following video because while I was writing the song came to me; I prefer the one sung by Lesley Ann Warren but couldn't find the full version of it (although I did find a reprise along with "Impossible" -- and now I'm feeling the need to watch the whole thing). :-) Since LAW's "Cinderella" is the one that 'grew up on', she will always be MY Cinderella and it is her voice I hear when I imagine that song. Anyway, a bit of nostalgia . . . "in my own little corner, in my own little chair"

Tuesday, March 8, 2011


SoulCards(c) Deborah Koff-Chapin
In a field of dreams, potential in the making in each moment's infinite variables, like a child finger-painting, I dip my fingers into the paint of the elements and creation drips from the tips in changing shades of sunshine, daisies, trees, slate and sandstone, prickly cactus and milkweed pod fluff, and I am falling into eyes of gold, blue, green, brown liquid love. I "paint with all the colors of the wind" and bliss permeates my being and all that I touch. Shall I stroke into being a home of love and job of purpose? Reclining, relaxed, all comes to me as I open to the scents and sensations waiting to be birthed into this moment. Childlike wonder radiates and spreads across the land in a pink haze of perfection for all.
Energy flowing and sharing the knowing, like gypsy feathers blowing in the wind, I am carried into other worlds with Her touch. Eyes closed or open doesn't matter as long as my heart is open and present. 
We are laid upon the sand . . . a warm, soft and raspy kitten's kiss . . . and we see the sky in Her blue cape as dandelion puffs float across in front of Her creating designs and dreams and change through hiding and revealing.
I hold up my palm and feel the healing energy within that is waiting for direction, waiting to meld with Akash--the Healing Field--that awaits all of us in every instant. Welcome and accepted, words of healing, hands of healing, vibrations in the forms we believe in and hope we understand yet always just out of grasp in Her true depth.
Sprinkle the sands of time upon our bodies and relax into the flow, experiencing and observing are the same for no separation is possible. Rambling words cross the page as drifting dreams permeate and circulate, easing tension and expectation, drifting desire into a remote cave to ponder and contemplate the moment, this one, and the next that is already passed--the past. Mountains calling in Her cool dry tones of peace as I reach out and feel Her flowing through me.
I don't know where I'm going but the journey is perfect and acceptance brings Her love. Harmony echoes in my Soul, ears a receptacle for more than the notes, the melody, for the symphony of the Universal Wedding is all around as joining occurs at every level of life as One.
I lie upon Gaia within and give birth to all creation of body, mind and spirit. 
Raise our hands, reach out, touch, live, dream, and Be in harmonic love as the vibrations wash over us!
Finger-painting flowers of creative energy flowing! 
Listen to "Earth Mother" by Desert Wind (select "Tiny" just to listen to the beautiful words of the song, as the other sizes load a bit slowly on some computers due to the host server)

Monday, March 7, 2011


Teacher says "I can show you symbols--pointers to the infinite mysteries of the universe--but only if your heart is open will you truly see. It is the same with all forms."
We think we have the answers but we don't really for all we do have are more questions and an ego that pretends we know it all. I know nothing. I am nothing. Yet I am All and One and Divine in Being.
If I get distracted by or attached to the symbols, pointers, lessons, people, life . . . then what? These are forms. Can I see within? Self and Form? 
Beautiful is the energy flowing within, between, everywhere. Feel it moving and soothing, invisible until it becomes visible, yet visible all along.
Science emphasizes the unknown, the mysteries, for the more we learn the less we know and that is when we have the potential to move into true wisdom, transported to another plane of awareness . . . one that is pure knowing . . . true being . . . 
We think that it is our eyes that see but Truth is seen with the Soul, the Heart.
Spirit dwelling within all forms shows itself at all times, from moment to moment, but do we see Spirit?
Teachers guide and gratitude swells for the lessons. Beginning or middle or end of life makes no difference for we learn in every second. Truth speaks to all without prejudice and comes through us in many forms, all from the same core of being and knowing. All Truth is from Source where we dwell in perfect stillness--connected, immersed, touching the Divine and infused with Her.
Forms, symbols, words--illusions meant to help us understand and find our own inner wisdom. The pure Truth that lies within All.
More and more teachers are emerging, sharing, as Her Truth speaks through all of us and we realize our own Divinity needs no intermediary, no bridge--remove the delusion of bridge and we are One. No bridge, no gap, only Being.
Within contemplative writing comes insights and reassurances that are from somewhere True . . . teachers, yes, but also I begin to realize and embrace that what I have learned is what I already know. Truth resonates pure and strong in perfect harmony, needing neither symbol, definition, explanation or direction.
Symbols to Self

Sunday, March 6, 2011


I stand firm in Her and we say "Let's get going. Let's do this--right here, right now."
She is without procrastination; She is will and determination within.
I love Her sense of solidity--She has planted her Self solidly within the space of confidence and prepares to resolve whatever is necessary. She sees the situation and knows how to act. She brings with Her the wisdom of perception, carried in the Universal Field--Akash--and steps through the doorway into theWorld of Form fully cognizant of Her role and abilities. Her hands settled firmly upon broad motherly, earthy hips, She is ready to create and manifest. I am excited to see Her, to feel Her solid and determined within, providing direction and clarity.
She combines Earth with Fire to build action--grounded determination as She steps from the Space and Air of ideology into the world of the concrete, the will supported by practicality. 
She is a feminine force to be reckoned with as She encourages firmly from a space of stillness, love and knowing . . . "You can do this."
Firm. Solid. Loyal. Determined.
I feel Her moving within, motivating, helping me to achieve goals.
I feel like I can accomplish anything I need to in the world with Her as guide and teacher. She is of the world--elemental and pure. She is kind yet a little pushy! She is the mother wearing Nike's saying "Just do it!"
She is the farm wife with Her steady gaze, strong hands, no-nonsense manner, and love as deep as the well she helped dig to bring sweet waters to the surface for long life and prosperity. She is the hearth of stone that is central to survival in the long dark winters. She is full partner and relied upon for Her wisdom seated in common sense.
She is the ancient grandmother we all revere as ancestress for She resides within the space of action in our world and is always accessible. She is as near as the ground beneath my feet and the fire in my belly. She doesn't hide or whimper, but calls to me when I need to 'pull myself up by my boot-straps' -- shake the dust off -- wake up and get it done, whatever 'it' may be.
She is the Spirit of my Great Aunt Bertha; seven husbands, ran a tavern, took in her niece and grand-niece, tossed out drunks, loved fiercely, survived a fire but lost some fingers, and pulled no punches.
She is a Survivor.
She is the Spirit that dwells within and emerged to help in leaving an abusive husband.
She is determination personified.
She is Determined Woman--I love, honor and thank Her.

Saturday, March 5, 2011


Too much!
I am in bliss, in this moment, perfect, so please wait!

The world tries to rush in with its complexities and demands and that's okay--that's the world--but I can choose, sometimes, and I can choose now.
Setting them . . . keeping them . . . honoring them for Self and others.
When to allow and when to stand fast. 
When to be firm in how I feel most loving and loved.
As I move and grow, change and remain the same, so does the world, so do those around me.
It's okay to pull away and BE.
To realize my own needs in order to be whole-hearted to others and available for loving care and guidance.
To understand the difference between helping and rescuing.
Rescue for those unable to make their own choices.
Help for those who walk their own paths and are entitled to make their own choices.
Boundary awareness helps me and helps them.
To realize how not to step over the line . . . or at least to realize I did it.
They can be gray and fuzzy and difficult to identify . . .
They can be emblazoned in shocking hunter-orange for all to see!
Do I step over? Does a lesson await me? Am I helping?
Or am I seeking through Ego to impose my will upon another?
And what about someone crossing the line into my space--my life?
How much do I allow or disallow?
Did I invite them in consciously or unconsciously?
Or did they put on their waders and decide that "come hell or high water" they were going to "save" me?
Do I need to remain gentle or roar like a lioness?
Don't react.
Pause and respond after a moment of calm reflection--contemplation.
Sometimes only an inhale is required and the answer needs no introduction but just is.
She helps me see the line that has been crossed and how to heal the trespass for both of us.
My boundaries are for my path, not for someone else, but there may be overlapping whether intentional or not.
Criss-cross highways . . . with overpasses and underpasses and detours leading to who-knows-where.
Do I see the patterns?
The intricate maps of interconnected lives that we experience, blindly at times. 
But open my eyes--see the boundaries.
Honor them.
Boundaries manifest for good reason and only to be ignored in those very special circumstances that come into our awareness when we travel with wide-open heart and far-seeing eyes.

Friday, March 4, 2011

Hungry Hands

In my dreams, I touch the Infinite and She shows me the present moment, pure and calm.
Leaves of flame and hands without names, we all rest in Her and depend upon her for our existence . . . simple, changing.
In my dreams, my Self is free to see beyond the forms of our physical life and to realize the hunger, the need, of so many reaching out in confusion and fear. Hands in need, begging, calling out for guidance to grow, asking to learn, yearning to be taught instead of told, old ways returning with fiery truth glowing through Her leaves of gold and burning away the stagnant air of compressed hearts releasing love and creativity with honor.
I release my dreams into reality and they bloom, grow, into a depth of knowing reaching for the sky to feed the hungry hands.
I feel flutters of anxiety, calmed by knowing that all this is a play on a stage and the scenes can change in an instant but I am still me. She is within and we will be fine. All is well.
Abundance always, all around. Lack is only a perception of world that can be given the boot and set aside for the illusion it is. Certainly, less and more are relative in the world, but they are malleable, changing constantly with or without our consent. But true abundance, fulfillment, knowing that this moment in Self is enough, flares like the sun shouting out the dawning. Momma Plenty brings her basket of goodies and sprinkles stardust upon my heart until it overflows. 
In my dreams, I feed the need of Self and the hungry hands with Her bounty. And when we are full, peace permeates our world spreading through the universe like a gentle breeze kissing all life into stillness . . . and infinite echo of eternity for an instant or always.
All is well--plenty--enough.
Movement comes in and we play, trying on the clothes of new roles or old ones or borrowing for a glimpse of growth.
Change is welcome and I reach out to hold hands with Her as the weaving continues . . . I touch the thread, hold the loom steady, spin the coarse fiber, stitch tightly or loosely, creating a cloak of rainbow and clouds, leaves and feathers, snowflakes and emeralds, fur and skin and bone, the moon in one hand, the sun in the other, and I rest in Gaia for we are One . . . changing yet always the same. Abundant.
Before drawing the card . . .

Spinning, weaving, the threads of my life interwoven with another and another. Here we are, traversing the path at different paces, one steps off and other pauses, waiting, honoring, loving, accepting, and warmly welcomes the return. All is well. Time is irrelevant for growth is occurring and change is happening within the tapestry we create. Now--all is well. Each moment to unfold, each thread that unravels will betaken up and re-woven into a new design, eternally creating. In this moment, all is well. Step b step, thread by thread. 

As I finish writing, there is a song I recall, shared with me by a beautiful soul . . . I share it with you here . . . "Weave and Mend" . . . 

Old woman is watching, watching over you
In the darkness of the storm, she is watching
She is weaving, mending, gathering the colours
She is watching over you

So weave and mend
Gather the fragments safe
And win the sacred circle sisters
Weave and mend, weave and mend,
Oh women, weave and mend

Old woman is weaving, gathering the threads
Her bones become the loom she is weaving,
She is watching, weaving, gathering the colours
She is watching over you


For years I’ve been watching, waiting for old woman
Feeling lost and so alone, I’ve been watching.
Now I find her weaving, gathering the colours
Now I find her in myself

Written by Mary Trup; Sung by Frances Black

Thursday, March 3, 2011


through a portal
trust in love
boundaries clear
lighten up
be in faith
open invitation
intuitive caution

This morning, as I took the remaining Soul Cards off the shelf where they were cuddled next to books of spiritual guides and inspirational quotes, I felt deep gratitude for the wisdom people share through words but also thankful for the gift of Soul Cards and other visual, tactile or imaginal portals into my own words . . . my own sensation and expression of the Divine.

Wednesday, March 2, 2011

Blue Grotto Within

SoulCards(c) Deborah Koff-Chapin
When I feel like I'm chasing my tail, I hear Her voice, Self voice . . . "slow down." 

Crazy whirling busy-ness of life, the pace can escalate, frantic thoughts and emotional panic, and--pause--a deep breath--calm--the spiral slows, eases, no longer out of control and spinning wildly. 
Contemplation, even for the space of an inhale and exhale. Release.
And not only is it Her voice I hear but all voices, the clamor for peace is deafening and I send universal vibrations that connect us all. Who among us has never felt the tornado whipping around their insides or driving them to distraction externally? I see my own path and calmly soothe the strands with cooling coconut oil, massaging the heat out of the tense knots, and feel the relaxing of panic and fear. Adrenalin rush slows. The balance of cold and hot is a blessedly warm embrace and I am fine. Not too slow do I spin so as to fall into the pit of depression, not so fast that bits are flying off in all directions. Balance.
And, instead of chasing my tail trying to catch what cannot be caught, I am nourished and nurtured through the gentle waves sweeping over me, the sea calm.

The darkness begins to lighten into a deep iridescent blue and then azure gleams with sparkles of light as I swim in Her crystal clear presence. She is not a being 'out there' but within--Self--for we are One, not separate. My Beloved is within and so our ocean of love is complete in and of itself, and I swim with all of Life . . . joined.
Dawn breaks on the horizon as I emerge from the grotto where light mysteriously shines without a source because She is Light and always here showing the way. When within the Blue Grotto I can see more clearly my spiral, this life I am living, this thread that is me woven, waving like the seaweed gently to and fro, tangling when storm-tossed or softly swaying in gentle currents of loving motion that is my own true nature. 
And I see this. All our natures are same yet not. The currents are clear, the vibrations I transmit are unique to this form I swim in, as gloriously individual as river is from ocean and yet we are all the same Source. I am a lake or a river or an expansive sea. I have a calm reflective surface or bubbling white foam churning around boulders or crashing waves. Yet I am still no different from all, only appearing unique within the infinite manifestations of life. 
My spiral, the thread of what is me, is the journey of soul within this form. Yet knowing now the One-ness, the interconnectedness of us all, no, more than connected--ONE--is beautiful and brings tremendous peace. So when I see myself, chasing my tail, eating my Self, I feel the strength of Source in our Blue Grotto, for and of us all, to pause . . . breathe . . . tread water a moment . . . float on my back, buoyant, lifted and supported until the calm permeates every fiber. 
The Blue Grotto on the Isle of Capri is remarkable. As I sank into this contemplative writing, I was transported back to those moments decades ago within this ethereal womb of Gaia.

And, for those of you who join me for the love of all beings furry...
Phoenix Sunbathing Tuesday Morning

Tuesday, March 1, 2011

She Calls Out

SoulCards(c) Deborah Koff-Chapin
She calls out the light in the dark of night, in purple mountain silhouettes that harken to castles of old where all retreated to safety, Her walls strong and rugged, Her stone solid and secure. She is never gone, always here, right here, beneath my feet, Her solid stone of fortress and abode. Sand castles reflect the macro and lend vision to knowing we are all One in Her as the tiny grains are mountains to creatures so tiny my eye cannot perceive yet I know they are there climbing their own mountains that trickle through my fingers as my life flows through Hers. She is the voice of the Infinite tat sings out our manifestations of myriad variety. Purple mountains like the chain of history that are worn and old or young and new or ground into sand. All the same in Her--all One. To see the elements in how they share their spirit with me through forms I touch is incredible--marvelous beyond measure. Still, I have to remind myself sometimes that I lose nothing and gain everything when change occurs--transformation is not loss unless I dwell upon and cling to the previous form. I close my eyes and can feel the subtle form still here, still with me, still near in space if not time, like the sand remains the mountain. A speck . . . seen from distance, mountains are bumps and ridges like the dry skin on my knuckles in winter that roughens and cracks. But bring love, lubrication, moisture and soften, elements melding, soothing the ridges, rounding the sharp edges into a soft bed of tissue, of earth, where the touch becomes the love, the nest, the gentle embrace. She calls out to change.
-------and then through the image She calls to another view, a shift in perception---------
Red sun, black sky, laser glowing through Her mouth, opening to the need for intense transformation. Signs. Within night dwells the dreams of future and terrors of past, or vice versa, and Her light transforms both into growth. Sky broad and dark and wildly spinning tornado across the land as She feels the need to create through destruction because all is One and to have the new something else must die, must give way, must recede in this elemental world that exists in the space of illusion. She cries out her anger in the blazing red sun “How could you do this to me?” Yet those are my words, my anger, my fear, my frustration with what humans are doing, how we are neglecting our duty, how we don’t honor Her. She is reflecting back to us that which we have created. A storm rages, we say, but we are the raging and she is simply the storm of re-creation. Gaia is the ultimate mirror and the infinite Creatrix.
I wrote the following before I drew this morning’s Soul Card (blind draw, as always):
I sit under the sky and touch the Sun and know without a doubt we all are One. As I look out at the thick blanket of snow, caves forming under its many layers, pockets of space and dark within the bright white, I know we are all One. Pine needles that separate from their brothers are joined at their base to Her, in Her, and we are all One. We stretch up while grounding and we are all connected. We are One.

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