Unfinished Blog Entries

While beginning the process of creating the next blog, I searched through, as I do weekly, those which I began and never finished.  I am not sure why I didn't finish and publish them, but as of this moment, none of these entries beckons me to continue. Only one, a poem written by my daughter, Caroline, which haunts me and beckons me into a deeply reflective space. That one, I will spend my time on this week.

 What I had begun, however, may interest you, or it may not. I share them with you here. You decide.

I didn't record who gave me permission to use this.

 

One pattern of behavior which I can no longer tolerate, and in fact despise, is that of ignoring of value of another's creative genius - ("I might add -especially mine" , she utters tongue in cheek.)

I belonged to an organization which placed value on some and no value on others, even though both contributed with equal value. There was the in group, and the rest of us.

The nicest people fell into this pattern of behavior. I never ceased to be amazed at its prevalence. 

Entering A creative leadership cycle.

Employing several reflection catalyzing techniques

Every year, I take a short retreat to write a short story of the year just spent.  A few days later, I write a story of the coming year.

This year was no exception.

Yes, I enjoy expressing myself creatively, but I experience happiness when the work I am doing with someone or a group results in their creative expression. The most special memories of these occasions:

 - Arts Festival in Rochester

- Teaching painting to a group of welfare women

- Psychodrama

- Leading group in making cards

There are two ends of the EGO spectrum  in this world. Needy People  and People with purpose. . Who am I to judge?  It doesn't take the use of a  magnifying glass or a microphone to see and hear the difference.

There are perspectives and there are opinions. I can respect a perspective, but even if it is my own, I challenge opinions.

I loved Sydney. I loved being able to walk right off the street and  into a deli,  pick up some fish and chips and a beer and sit in the park eating  lunch.

I was having a conversation with a dear friend the other day. She and I go back to grade school together. We recollected our various adventures and somehow focused on the uniforms we remember people wearing.

- The porters in the club car on the train with bow ties and white gloves. 

- The waitresses with neatly folded and names embroidered on the pocket and  small black aprons.

-The service station men with their white driving jackets and name on their chest. 

-The nurses in white wearing the caps of their alma mater.

My life is full of contradictions at the moment.

Positives and negatives in balance.

Opposition and agreement in balance.

I want it all to be positive and agreeable.

But that isn't wholeness.

Now the persona others see, that's a different story.

I have so many regrets about motherhood. It is as if it all happened and I never got to be part of it.  what was wrong with me?

Nothing. I lived in a moment of time that was between turning the child over to a nanny or nursemaid  and having to work for a living. Children born "out of wedlock" were considered illegitimate, although now we are all clear that isn't the child's burden at all. The responsibility for not taking responsibility for the care and nurture of a child is totally the burden of the parents.

I lived a lifestyle in which we, together, participated in leaving our children with others for the sake of the grand old revolution.  How awful it was, in retrospect. How awful that I had to make that choice. Others of us didn't. I will never understand my weakness then and there.

However, as Tillich  put it so graciously - we are accepted unconditionally.

In  about 1984, I was drawn to Tarot cards. It began with Daughters of the Moon - the reason: the archetypes of the cards were representative of different cultures, not just one. Today, I stick closely to Angeles Arien's interprettion and use Alistaire Crowley's deck. Tarot, a reflection of one's own Soul. What a gift to have been given - the return of ancient and once popular abilities.

Thy is it we begin some journeys and abandon them for another?

 

Walmart the Bulldozer

Sometimes I feel like I'm almost gone...

In this County and town where I live, there someday will be a new Walmart Distribution Center. The land has been purchased and the commissioners voted to go for it. The majority of the people don't want it. But, such is the democratic process of representative government.  The majority rule applies to who gets voted into office to make the decisions for the rest of us.

The Chamber of Commerce, other business representatives , and the county commission, claim that what is needed most is jobs and a broader tax base. This is true, of course.

Then, there is a contingent, adamant that this not be built because it will tax the health of the environment by causing air and water pollution. They are concerned that the laid back traditional ambience of small town living will die. They are also concerned that so many trucks driving by the schools and through the small towns on the road is not only a traffic hazard, but has the potential for serious noise pollution.

Then there are those whose land and businesses are right next to this place and their farms are in danger because of the acres of asphalt that will be poured and toxins will run off onto their land when trucks are washed and when it rains.

There has not been a strong voice come forth with a proposal to create a polytechnic type training center, an extension of the community college system or otherwise. What if there was an available training site for learning trades and business skills which resulted in establishing businesses in the community?  The notion has been presented, but the economic crisis is apparently too great to step back, plan, and function long range for the future of this rural area.

The Walmart Distribution Center is scheduled to be built.   The political structure is the subservient ally to the economic tyrant. End of story.

I would like to see a polytechnic operating here. At the School Board, there is a lot of stirring of the vocational education pot. It needs an interface with what the area needs. But, it also needs funding to make it happen.  At this point, I'm not clear of anything else I can do, except write this blog. I could send it to the local journal as a letter to the editor. I also am feeling like the impotent ally of the economic bulldozer. 

What is it going to take to create the world we want?

The Art of Embellishment

The greatest part of story telling is the embellishment. Take the bones and flesh of the whole  truth - and nothing but the truth - and add the experience of it - with a dash of metaphor to make it even more real.

I was terrified of the wilderness. Reluctantly, I got off the matatu (small pickup with small camper on the back, capable of packing in 50 people,  like sardines, as I recall).

The walk to the village was a good 9 kilometers still, along a narrow path through trees  and a lot of underbrush. I took in a breath of courage, focusing on the beauty of being in an African jungle and the promise of a great week ahead.

I proceeded along the path, listening to a distinct rustling in the underbrush. Having become accustomed to being followed by children, I assumed that the children were following along in the bushes. I imagined them as guardians keeping me safe from any dangers which might be lurking along the path.

Fearlessly, I proceeded, enjoying the wind whistling through the trees which shaded me from the burning sun.

As I approached the village clearing, there was a crowd of people who lived there, shouting and pointing. Wondering why there were no drums and native dancing to go along with this welcome, I nevertheless, began waving back.

Soon enough, I heard the words they were shouting, "Simba, Simba!!!" As unfamiliar with Swahili as I was at the time, I knew what they were pointing at with such vigor.

When I arrived well within their proximity, I turned and indeed saw a big old lion. He had been kind enough to accompany me along the path. It was he, with his huge mane, who had kept me safe, not the hoards of children I had imagined.

While some in the village were building a fire to send the lion on his way, I thanked him for escorting me through the jungle. He returned with a low key roar, and walked back into the jungle. No one was hurt.

I do have to admit, that I experienced some after-shock a few minutes later.

This has been a true story of unexpected adventure, laced with metaphor.  As you reflect on your own journey, focus on such an adventure you have experienced. Please share it in the comments. It is well worth the telling.

Black-eyed Peas and Paradigms

On New Year's Eve, the warmer weather  was passing, with a cooler front coming in just behind it. This clearing is just a portent of the new front.

I ate my three spoonfuls of black eyed peas on January 1st, claiming a promise for the year with each one. I dutifully consumed a fair portion of collard greens to assure prosperity.

A favorite old wives tale is that New Year's Day's activities is the beginning of how the year will be.

Accompanied with lunch and a solitary toast with the leftover champagne, I reflected on what I was doing that day that I would be doing all year. I really had to dig because I was out in what is left of the wilderness of Florida, doing some of the heavy chores for a friend who had just had surgery,  and watching NCIS reruns, while the guys" were off hunting and checking out the 60,000 acres.

There wasn't too much I could do about the external situation. As for the rest, I was depressed and didn't want to be where I was. I didn't want a year of waiting on someone else's agenda and neither did I want to be off doing my own thing - alone as usual.

And most of all, I don't want to have to be spending the year wishing I was somewhere else, doing something different.

Last year, everything I attempted and accomplished, was a checking off one more slice of unfinished business on my bucket list. Lots to be done. Endless list. 

Last year, the doors of the past opened wide. Gratitude ruled every waking moment.  A great "No Matter What - You are Accepted_ reigned.  The Hallelujah Chorus was never performed with such passionate resolution.  

And here I am still alive to venture into another year.  Not what I had expected. Must have been that new pacemaker. This year, therefore,  there will be no bucket list to check off.

The edge of the two fronts on the northwestern horizon on New Year's Day

This year is an adventure into the unknown. Whatever I do, it will be because I'm enjoying the journey. I will only partake in that which makes me happy.  Selfish?  I do not believe so. Adventure and happiness are valuable dynamics for Spirit's health.

This shift in consciousness is like throwing away a perfectly good pair of shoes because they hurt my feet and are totally distracting me from the fullness of the moment.  I wouldn't want to wish that on anyone else, so I wouldn't even give them to the poor.

I'm going to explore being really happy this year. Increase the old bliss tolerance level, as Joseph Campbell would put it. That begins with having no expectations or conditions on what constitutes or doesn't constitute happiness. At the same time...

You will never be happier than you expect. To change your happiness, change your expectation. - Bette Davis

I'm on a treasure hunt. Just imagining a treasure hunt makes me happy.  I will go where I feel drawn to go and breathe in what feels right. I'm sure I came to this intention by the guidance of one of two of the maps my favorite spirit giants have shared. I am grateful for their gifts to the world and for the role model for happiness they provide.

What do I have to loose? The end of a paradigm. The adventure into a new one. Same journey. New dance.

Many friends have expressed this kind of shift occurring in their lives right now. How has it been manifesting in your life right now?