We need a more compassionate view of all humans; where the focus is upon small gestures and we see with Kindly Eyes. We need compassion for ourselves, too.
And yet, I judge myself as harshly as I do others, never putting myself aside from what “we” have done to the world, recognizing my part in the actions of my species: war, violence, projection. We keep repeating in spite of reflection and philosophy and waking up to our responsibilities. This huge unwieldy machine of the over-culture taints my every effort until all I want to do is disappear into folds of paper where possibility emerges.
I get further behind with every step I take and Time is always cutting me off at the pass, making sure I don’t cross into the other realm. Maybe in my next life will be Peace? That’s something hopeful to consider. On the other hand, if I cannot help us shift our trajectory, if I cannot be part of the solution, will I find my next life a horror? Am I doing my best or hiding? Is solitude equal to my best effort? Am I enough? Am I doing enough? How do I lift up my Self toward a kinder life? Has my writing helped or hindered me or someone else? So many questions. I know nothing. That is my new beginning each time I collapse inward. Ask and open, listen.
Sit right here rest your bones. No one's ever so alone.
You can take the world down off your shoulders.
I don't know why and how. All I know is here and now.
Out of the midst of my confusion, a warm little fellow curls up on my lap and my heart fills with love. This. This response of love is what keeps me going. When I feel my heart swell with love, it’s okay. I can get through another day. I say grace.
I'm a stranger here I'm only passing through But everyplace I go leaves its own tattoo. That's how it is laying stone on stone, Building little altars by the side of the road.
This music, the music of Carrie Newcomer - the mystery and metaphor softly embedded within each song - continues to support me as I edge closer to finishing my latest book, which is a reflection upon my relationship with the Sonoran Desert.
A few days ago, I watched a movie that has continued to haunt me. This happens sometimes, as I'm sure it does for everyone; a movie touches us in an unexpected manner that is fathoms-deep. And, curiously, it's hard to uncover exactly why this particular one has done it … the topic is not unfamiliar in our war-torn world, and yet it goes inside and shifts something.
Usually, after this happens to me, I never watch the movie again even if I consider it was extremely well-done. I just can't go "there" again. Three movies that have done that to me in the past are: Where the Red Fern Grows, Gorillas in the Mist (with Sigourney Weaver), and Instinct (with Anthony Hopkins). Interestingly, though no big surprise, these three involved animal situations, a major trigger for me. And, therefore, even more confounding was my reaction to the latest movie to be placed into this "haunting" category.
The recent movie was In the Valley of Elah (with Tommy Lee Jones). I was drawn to the movie not because of the plot, per se, though it intrigued me, but rather because I enjoy Jones' acting and the supporting cast was excellent. However, this movie did not go the way I expected, and I found myself deeply disturbed. I don't want to give anything away, so I won't share details. I do highly recommend this film -- to watch once.
Like most trailers, this one highlights the "action" … but there is tremendous slow nuance in this film, every scene strips away at what we might think this story is about.
So, after a day of being haunted by the movie (if you watch it, perhaps you will understand what I mean), I decided I needed an antidote. I found what I was looking for in the simple, sweet voice, music and lyrics of Carrie Newcomer. Every song brought me home, safe, optimistic, and inspired new faith in living a good life is the gift each of us has to offer -- this is our gift to counteract the horrors in the world.
I'm a brand new fan of this artist, and adore every song I've listened to thus far. I can recommend Kindred Spirits: A Collection as well as her latest album A Permeable Life.
I found her through OnBeing when she was being interviewed by Krista Tippett. And it's not only her music. Listen to her recitation of one of her poems:
May your day be blessed with knowledge of the Whole of our World, the sadness and the joy, and the tremendous opportunity for grace within each of us.
On one of the last trips my parents made to visit us in Maine, Dad talked about this great BBC show called "New Tricks" and kept singing the theme song. I only caught a couple episodes in Maine but once we arrived in Arizona, they've been showing them on PBS so I've been able to watch nearly all of them. They really are great, and the song spins 'round in my head sometimes for hours afterwards, and every time I watch, I think of Dadand am grateful for the times we spent together.
Mom and Dad were big believers in staying active; they kept traveling and learning and enjoying life. Three years after losing Dad, Mom does her best to keep on keepin' on.
Two crystal clear visions emerged from the same image...
A continuation of one portion of yesterday's contemplation, I see red sands, red dust, dust in the wind *--emotions of the past that serve no purpose in the present are become dust...dust in the wind...
and
Upon the wind are carried the voices of those who are unable to speak for themselves. Waiting for healing, for permission, for a sign, we are their voices. Wise women, healers, seekers, old or young, fat or thin, we are the voices for those whose lips are sealed and whose voices are silent or becoming the whispers that might blossom if they hear another's voice raised in confident expression. We are the winds of change, each of us...
What is your vision? Where does the SoulCard portal take you?
______________
*The instant the phrase "dust in the wind" came to mind, I was carried into the song by that name performed by Kansas...a beautiful, peaceful song depicting for me the eternal gifts of Gaia balanced by a loving detachment from the objects and beliefs that we think are so important yet only take us away from the perfection of each moment.
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 . . .
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!
Egg. Fetal. 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. Egg. 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.
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"
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)
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" . . .
Lyrics:
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
Chorus
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
Chorus
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
She stands before me simple and wise, soft serenity in her gentle eyes, offering me Her gift of seeing that which sustains.
From out of the depths of the forest, She brings all that I need, sharing with open heart and stirring the energies of Life in Her precious bowl smoothly carved from ancient tree fallen long ago. Between the slender trunks behind Her, the Light shines brightly, illuminating our sacred space. I accept Her offering for my own nourishment and to share with others. From beyond the rim of the trees that protect lay open spaces and infinite possibility. I need never hunger in the journey before me, stepping out into those unknown lands of future because She will be with me, nourishing, offering her Love, and She will sustain me. No matter where I step, She is under foot and touching skin and nourishing from within.
She stirs the soup and the ingredients are those I need in the moment be they courage, strength, discernment, acceptance, love, detachment, enthusiasm or passion. All are welcome; the ingredients are there . . . a pinch of perseverance, a cup of compassion, always balancing to the taste of Now. And I learn to make the soup for myself and others, as the recipes fade and intuition becomes luminous.
She is Woman of the Woods with green hands and brown feet, her fingertips yellow from pollen, her blue eyes reflecting the deepest lake, and her rose-red lips that speak of compassionate care for Self and form and all those who are in need. She is Willow-supple and Oak-strong, her hair cascading ferns and flowers, while she carries lady-slippers gifted by the fairies for when she dances in the moonlight. She moves with the grace of the deer and her touch is soft as bunny-down and her voice is lilting with the songs of a thousand birds in perfect symphonic joy.
She is always with me wherever I go. All I need is to be still and She will reveal herself within the elements and the qualities of Gaia as I taste of Her essence and am nourished in soul and substance . . .
_________________
As so often happens, a song comes that enriches my experience of this day's Journey of Soul Inquiry. And I'm not surprised that John Denver is the artist for this one . . . as I invite you to pause a moment and listen to "I Want To Live" . . .
Listen to the harmony within the sacred sounds of Her universe! I hear a symphony that is the inspiration of all creation! I sit and listen and learn to play my instrument--this wonderful body and life. With each note, I re-member, and the melody courses through the earth and up to the sky reverberating in the ether. I know this song of love and faith! Isn't it beautiful?!
I sit in Her chamber and allow Her guidance to resonate within before it flows out of me into the world in the life I create and recreate. I sing the world alive with my joy and sing it to sleep with my love. In moments of silence, I hear the orchestrations of the angels as dimensions beyond my knowing vibrate to the drums of the cosmos. Her incredibly beautiful voice fills my head without passage through my ears, for I suddenly realize that I don't need the body to hear the mysteries of the universe; the body is an intricate instrument of teaching and exploration.
Angelic teacher with humble student as they create a world, swirling energies like conjoined spirals of conch shells or the delicate bones of the ear--the chambers where transformation occurs...
We sit within the hollow chambers, the pink interior smooth from the lovely tan sand that even now rests in nooks and crannies, its abrasive nature calm. Whispers of Her echo the turning of the tides of time as I pause to listen, feel, absorb the messages of She Who Creates. I can choose to listen without participation or I can choose to take charge of my own creative development and accept Her guidance. She shows all of Her own creations in their infinite diversity and I am inspired for no two are the same--ever. The beauty of creation is harbored within each unique expression that mirrors a facet of the One. And so I create, joy shining through even in the darkest moments or images simply because I now realize that every creation has an inherent vibrant spark of the Divine cherished within its design. The sacredness of expression of Spirit.
Listen...the symphony of life is playing! Her voice is singing! Sit within the Divine Chamber of Gaia...listen...create!
___________________
And this joyous message would not feel complete without sharing one of my all-time favorite songs -- Lisa of CelticWoman singing The Voice (and a delightful video). I wrote about this song in a previous blog that also contains the lyrics and their source.
Oh, and it just wouldn't be right not to share some of Her creations with you...
I climb to the top of the mountain, lean forward into the clouds, they part, touching my cheeks like moist kisses, and I can see Forever. The angel within becomes an angel of peace, clarity, and we share serenity, all the world, as One. All around me is Light shining through. She creates the clouds upon the currents of galaxies passing through our existence -- many planes where we are all One. These clouds do not obscure the light of insight, but rather create the aura of knowing, softening any harshness so that it can be taken into Self and molded into a gently caressing vessel of Love. Every water droplet forming these clouds shares infinite moments of gratitude, and carries the unshed tears of Bliss ...
On a Clear Day, You Can See Forever ... On a clear day
Rise and look around you
And you'll see who you are
On a clear day
How it will astound you
That the glow of your being
Outshines every star
You'll feel part of every mountain sea and shore
You can hear
From far and near
A word you've never, never heard before...
And on a clear day...On a clear day...
You can see forever...
And ever...
And ever...
And ever more. . .
( )
( ( o ) )
( )\
\ ~
~|
|
As I sat this evening preparing for sleep, I opened the Tao Te Ching randomly, to find the message perfectly appropriate for summing up many of the conversations that Ron and I had today regarding our planned move to another state, and how all the various pieces need to come together, yet we cannot control many of them. The below is from the version of Stephen Mitchell:
74
If you realize that all things change,
there is nothing you will try to hold on to.
If you aren't afraid of dying,
there is nothing you can't achieve.
Trying to control the future
is like trying to take the master carpenter's place.
Ripples flowing outward affecting everyone in its path, even unknowing. Interconnection. From my mind comes the lightening storm, all fire and light, radiating, expressing. Creating!
Circles that expand, growing, and I sail with Her in the waves of these ideas to see what is "just around the river bend," I explore the passages and decide upon which fork to take, knowing that all will be as it should be and there is no wrong turn, for all will lead me to where I need to be just as surely as the other choice, even when the outer circumstances may be different. And yet I must seek...
It is the journey of Soul that plays out as it is meant to whether it takes one lifetime or many for time is irrelevant in our little perception of how it acts in our lives. An entire life can be lived in the snap of two fingers. Our free will is what allows us the opportunity to explore the world of form in all its mysteries. And how we affect others during this earth-walk is also part of our destiny. Not predetermined even though all will be as it is ultimately meant to be - a paradox? Yes, for our limited minds that may feel shocked and weighted down by these indecipherable messages and the imponderables of the ages.
We think we know it and have it figured out but we barely grasp what is so immense. And that is beautiful! I love the knowing that I can't possibly know it all! I love the mysteries and miracles She shows in every second of contemplation. Even when I meet Her in that split-second - or is it a life-time? - of pure Being, I know on some level that there is more, She is more, WE are more - and yet nothing. This incredible universe is unfathomable! And how perfect is that?! To be humble and embrace the trickles of knowledge and explore the twists and turns of life in the world and life in the Now - moment of Being - and still embrace that there is so much more?! I love it! I feel such bliss when I sit in the knowing of not knowing! Mysteries of mind and no mind...
And so I create and live and love. I offer help where I am able. I share the incremental bits of knowing that I have pieced together along the way; this little knowledge quilt-let, hand-stitched with experience and written upon in inks of indigo the wisdom shared by others, a constantly changing blanket of life, light and love that is so comforting in tis representation of all that I know and don't know.
And so I create with sparks of ideas from the flashes of lightening in my mind that knows so little, with spatters of paint from heart and soul, with dreams of the Infinite. I accept truth, purity, faith, and love as touchstones along this moving, flowing, knowing and unknowing river of Gaia.
___________
I often hear songs while I'm writing, triggered by words or feelings that emerge during the stream of consciousness writing, the contemplative process opened by the portal of Soul Cards (c) and Source ... this morning I heard "Just Around The River Bend" from the animated Disney film "Pocahontas" - crystal clear. (No surprise, really, considering the Gypsy Feathers whispered to me once upon a dream -- I am drawn to movement, the air, the wind, travel, journeys, the river.)
Because I feel such a strong resonance with the interconnection of Soul and Nature, and how they mirror and heal each other, I share one of my favorite songs as performed by John Denver - "The Garden Song." A beautiful metaphor ... my Soul is a garden ...
And the lyrics are so lovely...
Inch by inch, row by row Gonna make this garden grow All it takes is a rake and a hoe And a piece of fertile ground Inch by inch, row by row Someone bless these seeds I sow Someone warm them from below Till the rain comes tumblin down Pullin weeds and pickin stones Man is made of dreams and bones Feel the need to grow my own Cause the time is close at hand Rainful rain, sun and rain Find my way in natures chain Tune my body and my brain To the music from the land Plant your rows straight and long Temper them with prayer and song Mother Earth will make you strong If you give her love and care Old crow watchin hungrily From his perch in yonder tree In my garden Im as free As that feathered thief up there Words and music by Dave Mellett (I thought they were by John Denver, but apparently not!)
A reflection waiting for the Other to make the first move.
We are in stillness. Extended moments in Infinite Pause.
I wait in shadow. A Pregnant Pause.
The Other is near and our hands meet, mirrors of soul and intent. Wrapped in red silk, warm blood pulsing. Without full form, we are shadow, and our hands pass through the world without touching or connecting. We must manifest, the Other and I. She is older and wiser, Teacher and Guide. Am I waiting or is She?
I feel a tremor, so slight, really more a thought of one than the real thing. A vibration begins, its ebb and flow one I have known before. It signals a new beginning. Rebirth. Will the Other come with me if I move? I pause again. A call of Light, a voice in the Dark. We are the same yet She is so much more vibrant wearing Her bright red and gold mantle, her flowing blue robes and her green shoes.
A great peace and quiet is here, deep within, me on one side and the Other just there. She begins to smile and I feel a tug on the corner of my mouth like a tiny hand plucking gently. Her love spreads like the smile and becomes a warm swell of fluid that comforts and softens.
Yet I'm curious about the Light that calls out for a journey. What is waiting out there while I wait in here, both present and full of miracles in their unique garments. Wings flutter in the light, glorious gossamer wings so frail and exquisite I dare not touch them but strong enough to carry the weight of all that was, is, and will be. Are they mine? Where might they take me? I pause, still, upon the threshold. What is this? I feel solid now, flesh is heavy. The other is waiting with Her encouraging smile. I move my hand and, yes, she is moving with me! Be brave! I reach out toward the wings in the Light and glimpse an opening, a portal into Being. I turn, step, and She remains with me as I gain momentum and we are lifted up and away into the Light of a new Life ... a new Moment ... Dawn ...
She is with me, heart and soul, and knows my true Self, and loves deeply, compassionately, and is always near.
When I feel hurt or insecure from the words of others speaking out of their own pain, desire or ego, She lifts me in Her arms and we ride like the wind together, wild and free and true across the landscape of my world within. She embraces my Being in full acceptance and without expectation.
This manifest form is what it is, and is enough coming from a sincere space of honesty and acceptance of Self.
Over-culture presents me with images or demands of how I should be or ought to be, and I stumble away from my own path at times, weary of the expectations of others. Yet now, as I rest in Her presence, more often, more aware and honest, in love and compassion, I feel confidence to be this person as well as this Soul, no longer disparate but unified, showing my true face, heart and Self. And I am happy in Her and in Self.
Peace.
Contentment.
Expectations of others fall away as do their expectations of me.
I bring truth and honesty without clinging to what should be.
I ride the wild horse with Her and we are finally free and joyous in our abandonment of the shadows of Expectation and Should.
I lift my wings and see that they are thick and full, healthy and beautiful for they are the wings made of Gypsy feathers and I am grateful for their gift. Her gift - the wisdom I feel flowing through these wings, carried upon the air from Her breath of life, love and light.
I know a deep peace. At last.
Challenges come in, and present themselves. I hesitate or question myself only to find, as I pause in the stillness for answer, that all I need do is open and we are One. I feel a tremendous calm sweep over me and I smile, the tension in my body easing away, I settle into Self once more.
This is the path I walk in this body, in love and equanimity, and I share the joy with all who I meet, some who resonate and some who don't. And that, too, is a beautiful facet of this sparkling, miraculous world, that we are each following our own star, yet each star is the same, and She welcomes the truth in all our varied forms.
I feel incredible gratitude that She led me down this path that led me to Her and to my Self.
I know my Self and I know the truth of who I am in the world and this body, and I am enough just this way.
When another person, another soul in pain, sees faults or deficiencies and accuses me of being less than what they expect, I may stumble, only to reach out and She wraps her wings around me.
I ask "is that me?"
The answer comes through the mirror that She holds in front of me.
I am the only one who can know whether I am living my Truth without delusion, this is my journey. When someone else sees a different visage than the Truth I know to be my Self, they they are in their delusion, on their own journey. And all is as it is, perfect.
To have finally reached a point where I can look in the mirror, love who I see, and know my reflection is True, is an incredible gift.
Our human condition can be challenging at times. During much of my 20's, I felt quite lost and alone; I didn't know my Self, couldn't find my Center, and She felt just out of reach except when I was hiking the Rockies, walking the woods, snuggling with the animals, or communing with nature in some way. This song, Looking for Space, of John Denver's always lifted me up - his passion, his ability to express the search for Self and Source, his inspiration from and devotion to Mother Nature, Gaia. She is a natural yet mystic portal into the Infinite.
All alone in the universe, sometimes that's how it seems
I get lost in the sadness and the screams
Then I look in the center, suddently everything's clear
I raise my arms above my head, holding the bowl of possibility that within swirls a thick soup of nourishing life and endless love that I pour out into the milky way as I realize the Divine Mother in my Self.
I feel strong and steady, sharing all that I have and am. I see what might be and feel Divine wisdom shining forth, coming through, expanding my vision in unimaginable waves of beauty and bliss. I feel a calm that reflects Her sea without storm or ship or enmity. Within Her ocean of possibility pouring forth I am carried and nurtured, buoyed by birth and blessed in the blood of all who ever were and ever will be. I undulate in Her rhythmic womb and we sing in tune, our harmony a song of love enchanting those who sail along, friend or foe to know the flow of love that is always here and now, supporting and serenading endlessly.
She is Abundance and her bowl is never empty, for even when the flow may pause, there is no cause for fear as the ebb is a gift of rebirth and transformation to renewed flow as I ride the crest and sink in the trough of her waves, and become as fluid as the whales whose mighty forms are as elegant in their element as the snake shedding her skin in the sands of time.
And so, I swim in the flow from the bowl of infinite possibility, nourished by Her ocean of love and sea of abundance.
Her endless sea of infinite possibility.
_______________
This was one of those exquisite* mornings where I rose and felt an incredible serenity permeating all around me, like some kind of restrictive energy had been released so that all is fluid and at ease.
I did listen to the luminous "A Sufi Song of Love" by Robert Gass & On Wings of Song last night before going to bed; I share a small part of that music HERE along with the Soul Cards I've drawn thus far on my Journey of Soul Inquiry. This choral chant - Kalama - essentially "points to that Love-Unity which created the universe." (The entire composition on the CD is over 30 minutes of blissful enchantment.)
Before even drawing my Soul Card this morning, I felt deeply joyous, writing bits every so often between the duties (putting the dogs outside, feeding the cats and dogs, cleaning up after the Elder One) that come before settled contemplative writing ...
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.
