Cat Tales

Has Beau Bear Gone to that Great Storm Drain in the Sky - or Not?

Beau Bear's left haunch was obviously suffering . He was limping, eating at his leg, twitching, and occasionally had a full body spasm. His inability to walk on his hind legs increased. X-Rays and blood tests resulted in him showing up as healthy as a kitten - a fine feat for an old man of a cat!! 

Nevertheless, he got to the point where I would have to pick him up and take him to his litter box, take him to his food bowl, take him to his hidey hole, and put him on my lap.

While de-fleeing the house one Sunday, I had him on the chaise on  the porch with me. Not fearing that he would run off, I let him rest on the chaise.  Out of nowhere he leaped off the chaise, tore down the stairs, across the lawn, up the street, and climbed down into his favorite place - the storm drain on the corner. A bright white light seemed to be surrounding him.

He was gone for at least two weeks, when I got a call in California that Beau Bear had come home, none the worse for wear. He left again and returned three days later when I got home. I kept him in the house to observe him. He appeared to have improved. When I put him outside, he didn't tear off, rather hung around his two mates -Bo Cephus and Bo Tres. He came back at night, rather skittish, left, and hasn't been seen since.

I hope he isn't in the storm drain because it has been raining "cats and dogs' for three days.

Maybe his behind will heal and he won't be traveling along like a rabbit without a hop.

Maybe he has left this earthly plane, but returns occasionally in hopes of one more boiled shrimp.

Maybe he has gone into hiding to spend his final days gracefully and peacefully.

I have also wondered if perhaps his return visits are my denial defenses and chronically overstimulated imagination caused by missing him so much it hurts. 

He has been my "main man" for many years. When I die, perhaps my ghost will hover, too. People will talk of sightings of the old broad on Lake Street, calling for her beloved Beau Bear in the dark of the night from the railing of her porch!!!

Tell me a cat tale!

Trees

Along side the labyrinth at Mercy Center, is this tree. It has two eyes .

This account was not my first encounter with the healing energy of trees, but it was the first time in years.

Trees have reminded me that I am never alone many times and in many places. One time, I was way out in  the villages in Kenya when a hail storm came out of nowhere. No one came out of their mud hut to welcome me in, so, I ran for the nearest tree and stood as close to it as I could get - hugging it for dear life. with my cloth over a basket on my head. A short time there after, I was welcomed into a home to dry before the fire. 

Recently, the day after the end of a retreat I led in California, I walked the labyrinth with the intent of having a serious dialogue with Higher Self - the Mystery of Life - the Universal Presence - God. Name it what you will, we were going tohave a serious talk that morning about its long leave of absence from  my life. 

I wove in and through the great maze when I came to the tree on the outer edge. I stopped in my tracks and starred at the tree. Much to my surprise, the tree began to speak - in that still small voice, of course - but the message was loud and clear. 

Two limbs had been sawed off so they wouldn't impede the path of the labyrinth. The scars looked like eyes. The tree expressed this severing as being its primal wounding, that place which appears to be too painful to ever heal - and this tree bore two. 

Yet, this tree, described the honor it felt to be able to stand solid, growing deep roots, endlessly reaching for the sun, and yearly adding a ring of priceless experience to its girth, learned from peering through those two eyes on its trunk. 

"The wounds are my gift", it said, "to those who walk this path of healing."

I thanked the tree from the center of my heart, and continued the circular walk back and forth on the labyrinth there at Mercy Center, in Burlingame, CA. 

Remember a story where a tree was a channel for your own healing. Share it with me, please.

 

Reunion Realities

Photo by Caroline Truslow - the first buds of Spring 2011

The reunion of myself and my daughter could have turned out many ways. We reunited a year ago in April and have told about everyone we know about this joyous moment in our lives.


Who we are now, what we do now, and where we are now is the way it is. We each are totally free to decide how to relate to the way it is now.

The possibility is always there to say a great big "Yes" on the presentation of new reality.

 It is also possible to keep your head hidden in the sand and smother your life away.

How do you decide to relate to new reality which radically shifts your understanding of the way life is?

Denial's Victim

 

What if in breaking free of your own denial you could stop someone from victimizing another? Who would you have to be in order to have your eyes wide open, out of denial, and take a stand for those who are going to be the next victim? 

Debbie Ford wrote this on a facebook post 5/28/11. I had been waiting for answer to form from within my heart when I read this. I had been asking my heart how to respond to a person who wanted to participate in a retreat that I was coordinating.  After several conversations, coerced as I was feeling, I opened the door for him to be on the leadership team planning meeting.

I knew it was a mistake and was hoping that he would realize, during the meeting, that it was not his "calling" to be the leadership for this retreat. During previous conversations, I realized that he really was much more interested in himself and that he was negating anything and anyone that stood in the way of him being the center of attention and the one calling the shots.

At the teleconference,  he was taking up a lot of precious time "selling" himself and his grand accomplishments and impressive credentials - something which the rest of us could also go on about rather impressively as well. Without thinking of the consequences, I said, "Enough with the commercials already~ This isn't a TV show~"

Well, we got on with the meeting just fine, but the next day he called me and told me off royally, using the "f" word more in one breath than a drug addict on a tear uses it in a week! I listened, disinterested, aware that my only intent was to not take his battering tirade personally. Soon after, when he noticed - he  must have noticed - I didn't react to him at all, he became apologetic and appeasing. I let him be appeasing and we ended the conversation.

When I reflected later on what had happened internally while this was going on, I began to see a submissive battered woman energy  that I used to keep myself from insanity years ago, had taken the driver's seat during the conversation. This energy was there protecting me. 

When the conversation was over "her" energy returned to the Hall of Wisdom Gained From Experience and the co-creative woman energy returned to the forefront.  She was able to let this battering bully know there was no place for him in the retreat's purpose or process. His primary purposes would be frustrated by the experience of even coming to the retreat. So, I dis-invited him and his presence.

He made appeasing attempts to reconcile, typical of a batter. While I am a true believer in unconditional positive regard, unconditional love and forgiveness, and have tolerance for people who lose their tempers now and then, I will be nobody's codependant anymore. 

I let the battering bully knows that since his behavior depended on my behavior, that his dependance on pleasing me made me a codependant and I am not willing to play that game.  

I did not include him in the list of participants even though he paid. The treasurer and I emailed him that we would return his money.  This was unsatisfactory to him  and he became the victim - which in cases such as this, is no different than being a battering bully - just a different way to play the game.

Who knows the outcome. He may come to the retreat with revenge in his heart - or be a submissive participant -or he may not come.  Whatever he does does not make a bit of difference. Perhaps my karmic debt has not been paid off. But, then again, maybe it has and I can't see the gift in this encounter yet. 

I do know that I will participate only in   co-creative relationships. My call. This I own. 

Woman are subject to all sorts of unintended batterings and spend most of our lives walking on egg shells - as codependants - in spite of our good intentions and resolve for right relationships. 

Occasionally, we are able to participate in the healing of these relationships.

Occasionally, yes. And more and more often these occasions present themselves these days. The times are slowly changing. There is increasing openness to co-creation.

Where do you find yourself in dialogue with your inner codependant and co-creative selves?

If someone is criticizing you, it’s not because what you’re doing is wrong. It’s because you’re second-guessing yourself. You’ve got your vibration split all over the place. It’s about you not being in alignment with the strongest part of yourself, and you’re just using that person as the excuse for the discord.
- Abraham-Hicks

 

Antidisestablishmentarianism

Photograph  by Kurt Rolfes while rocking back and forth in a row boat. 
Where the dragon fly hovers, the water is pure.

A-N-T-I-D-I-S-E-S-T-A-B-L-I-S-H-M-E-N-T-A-R-I-A-N-I-S-M.

When I was in elementary school, this word was the longest word in the dictionary - 28 letters.
Being able to spell it without stopping was considered a great feat.
Many of us could do it with ease.

I don't remember it ever coming up in history class as a major political event or otherwise. As I recall, however, there was the Anglican Church. Then there were those who broke away from it - maybe the Baptists. This group would be the disestablishment. Then there were those who thought that was an atrocity and waged a big campaign to stop the (.e.) Baptists - that was antidisestablishementarianism.

i was reminded of this word the other day when I heard a radio political commentary entertainer refer to President Obama as an antidisestablishmentarianist.  That does not correlate, in my perspective, with the original meaning or this political correlation.

(Yes, now and then I have a strong opinion.)

There is the very conservative party - establishment. Then there is the liberal party - the disestablishment. Then there is the Tea Party and very audible media campaign the members of which don't want the change that is happening.This movement, I contend, is antidisestablishmentarianism..

Before I continue, I want to note that I have only made a judgment about the reasoning of the political commentary entertainer, not about who is good, bad, or ugly. This same entertainer has a take on Atlas Shrugged, too, one which I also would argue. But, that is another story.

Many organizations are going through change today. They are hiring systems analysts and organizational developers to assist them in the transition. In each of these, there is the way "we've always done things", those who have either suggested or initiated changes, and those who are raising the roof - or backing off from participation in stoic resignation -  in protest of both the status quo and the attempt to make things work for the better.  These roof raisers and/ or stoics, I contend, are the antidisestablishmentarianists.

There has to be another dynamic working, or nothing is going to change. I didn't create the dynamic, but have come to know it as the transestablishment. Those who stand with a foot in both the established ways of operating and one in change that has become obviously needed. The people who choose to stand with a foot in each dynamic - honoring the way it has been and affirming the indicatives of change, are, from my perspective,  the true  social change agents.

These are the people who will facilitate positive change, - new models in which all the earth belongs to all -  even if the change is of a metamorphic nature.

The transestablishment doesn't have a predetermined map, set of trusted procedures, or a stance that is easily understood.  It is creativity in its purest form - that which comes right from Soul.

Where do you choose to stand?

Oombulgurri - Embracing the Worst Case Scenario

Center of Sun Wheel created by students at U Mass in Amherst

News of our assignment to Australia - to Oombulgurri Human Development Project - occasioned terror and the injustice of leaving the children behind balanced by a sense of the call to great adventure and participation in a grand strategy to alleviate human suffering globally.

Mimi Shinn and her husband, Ed, had begun the project. She had stories to tell of what she had encountered returning to what had been an abandoned mission for some twenty-five years. Local wild life had claimed the abandoned buildings as their homes - most particularly the snakes.
The world atlas showed that the highest concentration of poisonous snakes in the world lived in the Kimberly region - where Oombulgurri was located.

The most vivid story  Mimi told was of her taking a nap one hot afternoon when they first arrived,  surrounded by unpacked boxes, on a cot in the middle of the room. When she awoke, there were snakes dangling from the boxes in every direction. She had little choice but to stay  right where she was until they slowly slithered away.

Hearing that story left me in a place of sheer terror. I was terrified of snakes as it was, but the pending reality of  having to live with them  was reason for consideration of what it would take to actually give in to this great adventure.

My husband and I took trips to the Chicago zoo and I would stand in front of these glclass cages with snakes inside in snakes. Each time one so much as moved, I panicked. Adjustment and desensitization to be in charge of the terror took several trips, none of which I was willing to venture off on my own to do.

We spent ten days in Singapore on stand by. While there we participated in the festivities of the Year of the Snake. I remember still how that celebration and the  snake like  decorations weaving through a parade, provided a more receptive image of the possibility of encountering a snake.

While in Oombulgurri, I finally adjusted to the fact that snakes were somewhere and I learned to be wary, as I would of crossing a street in  NYC  or Chicago traffic. When I would take an early morning walk to the river, there were many tracks showing where snakes had crossed the sand path during the night. There were tracks left by a snake now and then that had come through a hole in our bedroom and left.

One of the elders of the community taught me how to walk through the grass so as not to disturb or frighten a snake, and thus be safe - not that I ever had the courage after that to walk through the grass. But, I was grateful for the skill of learning to walk like a feather.

When my sons finally joined us in Australia, they cut loose and ran fearlessly through the fields and everywhere else their feet would take them - while I held my breath through it all.

The  truth is, I only actually saw a snake three times  while I was there. One time, the young boys in the village chased me with a door snake - a harmless, yet ominous looking thing.

The second time, one was swimming along the new boat that the Department of Aboriginal Affairs had given to the community. That snake was longer than the boat.

The third time, there was a lorry load of blokes driving out to Jandungi. One of the youth spotted a snake, jumped off the lorry, picked up a stone, and bulls eyed the thing, killing it on the spot.

Jandungi was a pool at the beginning of the Forrest River, probably created by a spring. The layered red rock rose high above it on one side. The other side was a sandy beach in a gently wooded area.  Ancient lore had it that it was the home of the rainbow snake - the beginning of alllife.  I loved to go there . It was a sacred spot and I felt very safe., whether or not there was a rainbow snake or any other kind of snake there or not.

There  is something about encountering sacred space in an otherwise unwelcome environment that makes the terror of the unknown there worth it all.

I have since found other sacred spaces in the wilderness, but none quite as special as was Jandungi, near Oombulgurri and all its terror of possibly encountering a poisonous and deadly snake.

And guess what, I am still here to tell this story.

What is your story of experiencing sheer terror and then finding the safe sacred space within that environment? 

We are Each Other's Guardian Angel

As I was driving to the festival for a second day, it occurred to me that I was a really lucky volunteer to have been given two prime positions in a row. I wondered who made those assignments and I really wanted to express my gratitude for such a gift.

First day, I was at a main stage in the heart of the original St. Augustine settlement and got to hear all the musicians I would have chosen - those I had heard before and loved.  This second day, I was going to be at the main stage at the marina to hear the "stars' of the weekend. Although they had been around for awhile, I had never heard them - only of them. Both days, he wind was blowing in from the ocean, sun shone brightly, and the temperature about 80 degrees F. There were enough volunteers swarming around for me to be able to take a lunch break to go hear Dale Crider. I really wanted to hear what he is singing these days. He's one of those many Gainesville, FL professionals who love music and have been part of the folk scene for - yes, decades.

I had the radio playing on the Flagler college station, broadcasting from the folk festival.  In the middle of my reflections on the greatness of the whole weekend, a song came on the radio. The words were something like  "We are each other's guardian angels. We come into each other's lives just when needed. Then we go our separate ways."

Somebody sure had been my guardian angel this weekend.

The Milltop Restaurant on St. George's Street, St. Augustine

I thought of other times in my life when this was also true.

When has this been true for you - someone was your guardian angel just when you needed one?

Music as Healer

Dale Crider wrote songs about ecology and preservation of the wildlife long before it became a popular movement. Here he is playng in the Tradewinds, near the Bridge of Lions,  about lunchtime on Sunday.

Blue Grass and Mozart share the same healing quality, or so has been my own experience.

 The one who will be healed begins with centering in that very special place deep within heart space. Some healers will argue that the place from which healing energy comes is beyond the astral planes.
Others will say it comes from God.  Any of these will do, as long as there is loving intent and pure focus  on the healing process.

Some people can become silent, focus on breathing, and access this place of healing energy with their eyes closed.  However, there are others of us who prefer to draw from the environment to guide us into that same place.

For me, music is my guide - played by a musician who is performing from that special heart space. Mozart wrote from that place. Folk music, especially blue grass - being born in this Western culture to which I belong - primarily, was written from that special place.

Heart space, musician's heart space, and songwriter's heart space, together makes for optimal healing.

I find the Gamble Rogers Festival in St. Augustine, to be the presence of these three dynamics. Not all of the performers, but a good share, sing from their hearts.  They are performing music written from deep within heart space.

Lately, I have noticed that many new songs being written and performed have a social concern theme. Some on ecology, some on poverty, some on war, some on peace.  I find myself wondering what is the new movement of social change that is beginning to grow today.

I go, open to the healing available. I am never disappointed. Having felt at home there, and having become totally saturated with  music, I come home with a renewed passion for life's purpose.

How do you take care of yourself?

RSlow Processing as a Quality

Take time to go within to process - just as a loaf of bread is baked in this oven of yore.

As a school counselor, I spent a good deal of my time on child study. Students would be referred for "testing" if they weren't keeping up with classroom expectations. Although it wasn't the only difficulty students had, I observed a very large percentage of students needed more time to access a response than was expected. I also observed that there was more of it at the beginning of this new century (love saying that) than there was forty years ago.

I am a slow processor, but had other processing channels through which I was able to learn quickly. It did not help in social situations - a place where I was and still can be a total klutz. Now that I am an elder,however,  this slow processing is expected of me. So, I take full advantage of it.

Recently, I was at a weekend workshop which invited a lot of response to sets of questions asked. I observed that not only I, but almost everyone was a slow processor. The old style of eliciting a lively dialogue in response to a set of questions, is no longer a natural process - if it ever was. - and which it never was for me.

When I worked with the teachers who taught these slow processing students, I would suggest that the teacher ask a question, ask students to write down an answer, and then ask them to share what they wrote.
Teachers knew already that they would get more results if they gave students time to process.  Thus, the endless trips to the xerox machine to make copies of worksheets.

This is not the same. The worksheet is not the answer. Imagine a global summit where every diplomat had a worksheet to fill out before participating?

I contend that a skill for the new millenium that needs to be learned is how to take time to process a response from a place of integrity.

Too many people are listening and buying into what news media says , for example, - because it is easier to do than to take time to process one's own wisdom. Too many people are not being able to get their two pennies into the decision making process because they need time to access their own wisdom. 

The everyday world just isn't set up to allow for this to happen.  Life styles and interactive patterns need to change to accommodate this increasing quality called slow processing.

Our future depends on it. It depends on developing skills of slow processing. It depends on people being able to access their innate wisdom which comes from deep within. This is where people are today -there are few fact addicts left on this planet, only those who don't know how to think for themselves.

Let's take the time we need to speak to each other directly from the heart. Imagine how different this world would be if it were a natural pattern of interaction.

Where have you found this to be true for you?  How have you learned to respond from your heart?

An Earthrise Village Leaders Institute

View of a sunset in Amherst, MA at the sundial created by students somewhat replicating Stonehenge

In 1982, the Kenya/Uganda border was a dangerous place to be.  Hundreds of people were killed in the rebellion against the Ugandan government, and an estimated 400-thousand people were left homeless. Because of this,, despair hung around heavily like hungry buzzards circling fresh road kill. Smuggling and prostitution were businesses in and of themselves.

Three of us traveled to a village right on the border to facilitate a week long village leaders institute (VLI). The village was at the foot of Mt. Elgon. I had seen pictures of the top of this inactive volcano. The flora was lush and the fauna immense compared to wildlife I had encountered along side Kenya's roads.

Fifty or so village leaders, mostly women, began to gather for the training week. The people in this village were about the poorest I had visited to date. Everyone brought food as payment for their coming - lots of greens  and plenty of ground maize, tea and fresh milk. No meat and no sugar.  For the final celebration, one of our team went searching for a chicken or two, or some goat meat, and some sugar. None was to be found.

A VLI always began with introductions and a sharing of what folks were doing. A group of women reported that they had started a co-op garden and a sewing business and that it had failed when the men took it over and split the profits as their salaries instead of reinvesting in more seeds and supplies.  "Oops," I thought. "The group who came to teach them how to do this forgot the most important part - including the men in the business traming basics."

The other question we asked at the opening was, "What has been the most important world event in your life's time?  A young man, clad only in black sports shorts, who had walked from the other side of  Mt. Elgon, carrying a cabbage as his payment, answered, "Man on the moon - seeing the picture of the earth."

I was aghast with wonder.  Why didn't he say the recent war next door? How did he know about the men on the moon?  Where did he see a picture?  He said he listened on the radio and saw the picture in a magazine.  There is no city on the other side of Mt. Elgon.

In consideration of time, I never did get to ask him where he was able to access these communication vehicles.

This VLI continued with a verbal image of the earthrise, a picture  held in each participant's imagination.  It was our new context while learning how to work with the rest of the village on implementing plans.

How long has it been now - thirty years - and I still remember it as if it happened yesterday. I often wonder if they also remember and what is that once young man is doing today.

How has the image of the earthrise affected you?

Channeling

Early in my life's time, I was drawn to what I have since come to know as "channeling". 

I loved movies like  Topper and Night of the Living Dead.  Fascinated with seance scenes in movies, I even tried  holding them with a few with friends. We did have some delightfully scary experiences. I'd become totally rapt watching my mother and aunt  make a ouija board sing with messages from spirits.

When I wanted to learn a skill or reach a goal, I would call on the spirits to assist. I didn't see anyone out of my eyes,  or in an audible voice, hear anyone.  I felt a presence which, when I closed my eyes, I could imagine. The voice which spoke was silent and came from within me and was silent, yet succinct. Interactions with this "channeling" were creative, colorful, and full of life.

By the time I was a teenager, I had forgotten all about that world of spirits.

Later, I was drawn back to this dynamic when introduced to the work of Edgar Cayce and Alice Bailey, among the most famous channelers. I read everything I could find by them. then, recalling my childhood experiences, I was convinced there was something organically real about this channeling dynamic. I  read  books by about fifty channelers, including participating in the famous Course in Miracles.

When I write or paint, the product always comes from being present in another state of being, an energy which I  have come to believe is the same experience. I also have concluded that each has a very unique, yet very similar way of experiencing channeling.  Many, if not all, creative artists, musicians, writers, etc. source their work from this "other-than-the-ordinary-me" world.

I envy psychics, mediums,  and other professed channelers their well developed abilities to access this source and let it flow from them so easily.  Yet, I can do a memorable tarot card reading on myself, now and then and again.

I prefer to describe this other world and its inhabitants as metaphorical creative processing. It is other than intuition, but not totally disrelated. My own imagination comes alive with images of a channeling entity. This is a place of wisdom accessible to every single human being in one form or another. It is a reality upon "whose" shoulders we stand to create the many faces of the future. It is that dynamic without which there is no new growth and development.

How exciting when someone or a group accesses this metaphorically enlivened creative processing into its becoming a new expression to which anyone who encounters it can relate - a new insight, a new song, a new paradigm, a new operating pattern, a new opportunity to feel love and be loved by Being itself.

Experiencing this life dynamic metaphorically is very real. We have all experienced this at one time or another. What has been your experience? Do you value this type of creative processing? Why or why not?

Trouble Maker or Agent of Change

This celtic maze was crafted at Shadow Rock UMC in Phoenix AZ

When I was in school - kindergarten all the way through high school graduation, I was not one to conform to teacher expectations. 

In kindergarten, I fell madly in love with a blond curly head and wanted to spend my day hugging him while the teacher read about the house with no windows or doors, with a star in the center - which turned out to be an apple.

In first grade, the teacher had to leave the room for a few minutes giving the order for us to all work. Some of us talked away. When she returned she asked who talked .I did not fess up and got my name on the board and my parents called.

In 7th grade, in a science class where the teacher was talking on and on, I was also talking on an on.   When she swatted me on the head with a ruler, I stood up and told her where to go and was sent to the office.

In 8th grade, three of us made polka dotted circle skirts in home economics  and wore them every day for a week to protest happy homemaker stereo-typing..

In 10th grade, the English teacher annoyed me by how he played favorites to the point where I wrote my assigned essay about it. I had to show my "F" to my mother who wrote to him, "This too shall pass - we hope". He wrote back, "To err is human, to forgive divine." 

By the time I was a senior, the 60's revolution had begun . I wrote a speech about the existence of racism in my area. I got an "F".

I danced right into the 60's revolutions. Gave my whole life to its grand purposes. Woven in and through it all was a disregard for my responsibility to myself and the human relationships in my life

It was like this: When I was very young, at a family picnic, I ate a chunk out of the center of a watermelon. Much to my grandfather's dismay, he could not get me to regret my action. Even today, I'm not sure if the lesson was that I should say, "I did it" with resolve, or if it shouldn't be I who eats the sweet center of the fruit.

This is the paradox and the dilemma. Shadow is always present. The same energy of social responsibility shows up  as reactionary rebellion or as a pioneering response. 

I decide its purpose all alone, finally - nowhere to look for the right or wrong in what I have done. Time will decide.

Reflect on an energy which has been part of you ever since you can remember. How have your actions danced between reaction and response through your life's time?

Made in Kenya from old tires 25+ yrs ago. Jim has saved them all these years.

Why is it that writing a book  is a prerequisite for fame?

Whether world renowned or famous  in a discipline of one sort or another, this seems to be the case. I'm not referring here to cinema, sports, or other media fame. That is another whole topic to explore sometime.

While dining recently with colleagues of yore, I was addressed by the humble presence of their innate wisdom which stands on a lifetime of facilitating a sustainable future of local communities -  out of nothing but sheer creativity. I could go on and on about their contribution, worthy of three or four Ph.D.s.

 Others have written books about their pioneering theories and have created new forms of human community  in the 20th century. There has been a metamorphic evolution in consciousness - A great Spirit Movement - now dancing its way through the 21st century.

Human community is full of new theories, methods, approaches, demonstrations, leadership, experiments, inventions,and  untold solutions to age-old problems.

There are few who can step into the shoes of the likes of my colleagues of yore and claim the unknown fame which they deserve the most. An important element of the great adventure in the life of the Spirit Movement of our life's time, is the pausing to document the story of the journey and get it out to the world.

What are we waiting for?

What is your great story waiting to be told - the one where someone can step into your shoes and carry on, into the future, the adventure of pioneering Spirit's work among us?

Heart of a Super Moon

So many articles appeared about the Super Moon's arrival March 19,2011. Then the next day, there were many photos of folks having watched its rising . A strange feeling came over me as I reflected on this occurrence. I imagined people all over the world anticipating the rising of this moon. While his shot is the result of me moving the camera,,  it holds for me a hope for world peace. Shaped a bit like a heart, it's as if the heart of the people of the planet has risen for all to behold, embrace, and hold in their own hearts. One heart held in the hearts of all.

As close to earth as it has been in 18 years, its beats are universal. Can you feel it? Can you feel the heart beating?

Peaceful Embrace of Forgiveness

A budding wild rose

In my journal last year about his time I wrote:

I love these few days of the year. They arrive when the weather is 40s at night to low 70s during the day - not always the same time every year.

One of thousands of azaleas around the village right now

During these few days, azaleas bloom prolifically. White, purple, pink, or magenta, they fill this little village with a background blanket of color everywhere. Buds and blooms of wild roses and many types of trees scatter more beauty everywhere. here and there. Wisteria hangs gracefully like clusters of grapes with wings.

Wisteria grows like weeds

The orange blossoms broadcast Spring with a delicate fragrance which permeates the air everywhere.

Orange blossoms  bee buzzed 'round my head while taking this

Bees wander through the blossoms wistfully pollinating the blooms so oranges will g row. 

Taking off from the top of the water tower, baby birds begin gliding through the air. I can't see if they are buzzards, hawks, or eagles, but they gracefully float about on the wind for hours. I know. This year, I sat on my porch and watched them all afternoon with Beau Bear, my old cat and best friend, on my lap.

These few days every year in this village stand as a reminder that healing is cyclical -- by the presence of the abundance of new life everywhere.

At the same time,
Earth is ripping itself apart in earthquakes here and there and everywhere, taking human lives and history away with its destruction..
Angry war ravages human lives as well as old leaders and systems hold tightly to their reigns refusing to make way for the new energy.
Winter hangs on and returns with a vengeance, discouraging even a pansy, a daffodil, crocus or begonia which had sprouted with great anticipation of growth. 

Tomato sprouts waiting to be planted

Also, at the same time,  are so many people who are so privileged to not have to hunger or suffer physically, who nevertheless do not love themselves deep within.  This kind of suffering has to be the worst because there seems to be no cure, no solution, should such  happen to be available. These people do not feel the wonder of these few days which arrive every year, if not at the same exact time.

Wild roses almost sing their arrival after a cold spell.

I must love myself deep inside just a little bit at least. I know I must because I can breathe in the beauty of  these few days of this time of year and touch its healing power.

i wish this peaceful embrace of forgiveness  for everyone at least once in a life's time, and perhaps every year .

Please share a moment when this has been your experience. How do these experiences make us more human?

First Response to Post Trauma

Would we want it tto last forever anyway?

Occasionally something happens that is devastating. This happened to me this week. I felt powerless to respond. I only wanted the event to have not happened.

I cancelled life. That is the only way to describe it. I ate comfort food all day while talking on the phone to others devastated by the event. Listening is good.

I do not know how I made it through the day without screaming into the empty air or crying my eyes out.
But, after awhile,  I was able to reflect on what was happening  - what had happened. I finished watching a movie and took it back to the machine where I rented it for $1.00. The movie,  "Like Dandelion Dust".  had a similar theme as the devastating event of the day. I suppose it aided in processing the event, however indirectly and unconsciously. At the time, it was intended to be a distraction.

I also made my bed, planted seeds, washed my hair, wrote another thousand or so words, sent a few emails, completed a project I'd been working on for a month, washed clothes, shopped for company, exercised, and mailed a birthday present to my grandson.

Finally, when I couldn't find anything else to distract me, I sat in front of the TV to forget the whole thing for awhile. Unfortunately, I had seen everything already that might have been of interest. There seemed to be no escape.

I sat on the porch with the cats for an hour or two and was swept away by the whispering wind momentarily - a meditative focus, yes, but not for long enough.


Left here in a place between the no longer and the not yet, what is there left to do?

Trust. Let go of any expectations now. Dancing at his point was not possible, holding its promise for a time in the near future.

Believe, as dear Aunt Bea used to say, "Something good is meant to come from this.", -  wisdom remembered at just at the right time. I still preferred that this good would happen  without the unavoidable immediate future,

With one foot into the reality and one in the good that will come from this, this pause in time is acceptable. 

Own it!! And I let the paralyzing devastation pass on its own accord. And pass it did soon enough.

Space is Revealing

A signed Murano glass bird - a family treasure recently passed on to the next generation

We moved to a newly built home in 1952. It was a street with sixteen or so new homes, all built on a sand pit at the edge of a ravine. Several girls were my age, between six and ten,  and we all loved to build towns in the sand, using sticks, stones, leaves, berries, and whatever else we could find to build the towns.The towns were vast and magnificently intricate.

At scout camp in the summer, we built mansions with walls of pine needles in the woods. The mansions had many rooms - kitchens, sitting rooms, verandas, bedrooms, ballrooms, dining rooms - you name it, we thought of it and built it.

Eventually, I had my own home to fill with creative artistry, and later a home with a yard to landscape, as well. At one time, I created a zen garden in my yard. Because there were oak trees overhead, it required extensive maintenance. Eventually, it became a vegetable garden.

A zen garden in process of simplification and streamlining= a masterpiece in the making!!!

I had a small zen garden on a table in my office. It was very popular with students when they came in for counseling. The zen garden was the focus of an intentional design of the room itself.

Fung Shui is growing in popularity as people become interested in  creating healthy  and meaningful space.

Recently, I discovered Farm Town, a game linked to facebook.  I have been creating the space on my facebook farm for about a year and a half. Doing this is a very relaxing spiritual exercise. It also is an exercise in maintaining a short time limit for distraction. It is very easy to get "addicted" to playing these virtual games. As I engage in the ongoing expansion of this space, While playing, I pay attention to  how I am playing, fo my intent. What I do and what I add or delete reveals  where I am at the time. The game is not changing me. What I create reflects my life.

Living and working spaces reflect who people are and what is important to them. Space is strikingly revealing. 

Creating living and working space can be a spiritual exercise.  It doesn't take a lot of money. All it takes is what is there, arranging it to fit the intent of the space, planning for and adding what is missing, and feeling good about the result.

Look around at your space. Is it reflecting who you are and what you want for your life?

How to Burst a Bubble

It is high time to let go of an attachment to a non-functioning  relationship I've carried for almost half a century now.

The relationship ended at what has been termed the attraction stage of obsession and did not continue to anxious, obsessed, and destructive. That wouldn't be like me to go there anyway.

The attraction has been a comfortable irritation. Yes, that is possibly an oxymoron. That's exactly this  has been.

I wanted very much to "get this bubble burst", so I meditated on the solution.  I checked in with my meditative council, and was advised to ask a  Psychosynthesis colleague, one knowledgeable in clinical psychiatry. One I could also trust.

After I shared my dilemma, she considered my frame of  pathological reference - the "obsession wheel", as it is called - and where I placed myself on the wheel. Then, instead of responding to that,  she raised a valid question. "Which Psychosynthesis techniques would you feel most comfortable using to process this?"

Disidentification. I live that attachment, but I am more than that attachment...., etc. (exercise available upon request)

A gestalt conversation with the one who was this attached attraction. I have my say. Then sitting in the other's chair, I take on his being and say where he is with this. Back and forth until all the cards are on the table and we both have had our inner self say on the subject of his hanging around as a long played out past.  I felt it all in my neck - this whole attachment has been a big pain in the neck!

A guided imagery to a new place in which the Higher Self has been accessed to facilitate a healed image of myself. freed of this illusory attraction,  living in the reality of today.

I was living in a memory which had long ago died and gone to heaven. Letting go was long overdue.

The final stage of this process has been to develop a daily routine - a discipline - of paying attention to what is going on in the world today and spend a few minutes absotbing its ultimate nowness.

We all have attachments which are no longer real and no longer needed. How do you let these go?


 

Fear Not

An eighteen year old young woman is being trained as the Zumba instructor. She just graduated from high school and has been finding her way into the next phase of her life on this earth. She greets us as we enter with an energetic "O la" and maintains that high energy level as she guides us through the daily routine. Her presence is pure delight.

However, I noticed that I was experiencing her as totally annoying. In meditation, I asked myself, "Why is this happening?" Instead of an answer, I received the question, "What is your greatest fear?" If I wasn't annoyed before, I sure was now. It hadn't occurred to me that my annoyance with her had its source in fear.

What was I fearing?

As I continued to reflect on this intrusion, I wound my way into a cave of bright, clear, vibrant energy. A source within me that had been stored away for what feels like eons.  Believing I might perish by this fire, I ask myself,. "Do I dare feel this energy?"

 My imagination returned to this young woman of 18. I imagined myself at 18, dancing all day in a gym, leading women of all grown up ages. I can tell you right now, when I was 18, this would not have been me. I could not even get up in front of a class and read a book report or give a speech.

Yet here she was, giving her all, confidently and with boundless energy. She was so effulgent, I could feel her joyful heart. She was supporting a strengthening part of me which only shows up on very rare occasions. As I reflect on the situations of my life in which I just dove in and swam with joy, I recall a shark coming along and taking a bite out of my leg - every time. I'm sure that is not a 100% record, but darn close. The result? Failure, retreat, regret that I had let a little thing like a shark biting my leg get in the way of what I was loving..

Recently, I had the opportunity to strut my stuff, so to speak. I did this in front of 100 or so people. I carried it out passionately, even got lost in it all.. I experienced a radical transformation from deep within myself.  No shark came along and bit my leg, either.

Here we are, this 18 year old young woman and this 66 year old "old broad", sharing the experience of giving everythnng that we have to give passionately into the moment we are living.

This annoyance I feel, is a biting shark, not this young woman's great energy.  I say, "Go away shark! You've had your day!"

"It is our turn to have our  moments in the spotlight of passionate expenditure.

We have the go ahead  to  feel joy in every cell of our body and it is our privilege to let it guide our dancing bodies through the day. 

What is your greatest fear? 

Walls

She builds a wall of thoughts and stories.

Vines of ideas carry blossoms and beginnings sharing the shine of beauty.

Music crawls over the side and drops like the sound of a gong.

Children smile.

Memories made.

by Caroline Truslow Reece

Projection: the art of experiencing oneself in another as if it was only the others presence, not a mirror of one's own presence.

Empathy: the art of experiencing another's  presence in oneself as if it was a shared experience.

My experience of this poem is just such a metaphor of  Projection and Empathy.

I see a field stone wall, about waist high, wandering across a lawn of fallen leaves, with an old oak, birch, or maple scattered here and there.On daily walks,  before flowers bloom, the scene is utterly other. I see, feel, hear, taste, smell the scene, attributing the sensory experience as that which exists in the scene.

While walking another time, vines will be filled with  flowers growing along the wall.  I see white trumpet like shaped blooms with green centers. I feel the bloom filled vine creeping gracefully along the wall. I see it shine.  I hear its silent song as my heart begins to bloom  a it drops over the side of the wall.

The gong resonates from every cell of my being.

As the children smile, the union with this poem becomes a precious memory which shines in my heart.


What's creeping over the walls you have built to protect yourself from possible pain?

All is Well!

Last year was a miracle occasioning endless gratitude.
Last year was the year of illumining the past in all its splendor.
Last year began with a new year's resolution to open the closed doors.
The doors are open. The past is approved. All is well.

This year my new year's resolution is to turn the spotlight on the unfolding future.
So far, this year, I participated in the wedding celebration of my first born grandchild, Kathleen.
Last weekend, I traveled to Colquitt,GA to experience and participate in its Building Creative Communities Conference  - been really curious about what Jan Sanders and Rob Work have been up to and they facilitated the Art of Social Change track.

At the end of this month, I'm guiding an AAP (Association for the Advancement of Psychosynthesis) regional retreat in Sarasota. It's a pioneering venture of a new operating form for this North American organization.

The author of Men are From Mars and Women are from Venus - John Gray - wrote another book about life phases. In it he said that there is a natural progression, but it doesn't always work out that way. So, if you missed out, or skipped a phase, it is natural to fulfill that part of one's own life journey at some point. He didn't use those words, but it's been so long since I read it, that's the way I remember it.

Well, I skipped over close family, and last year was bringing that almost full circle, with just a few more connections to be made to complete that phase and enjoy a new future. as family.

I got so lost in becoming self-sufficient enough to retire, it has taken well into this second year of retirement to get accustomed to following my own agenda  - or following my Bliss (as Campbell puts it) and not someone else's. Living life this way is. a delight. I feel healthier and the thoughts that constantly run through my mind are increasingly gentle and creative.

Where did we ever come up with the notion that care for all of the aspects of our lives is not being responsible? I am happy to look around me and see so many of us relaxing into our new creative edges, dancing gently instead of marching fervently and running madly into burnout.

This year, I'm going to go places and participate fully in events.

These are the times and we are the people is being carried on a new song, a new dance. All is well.

Espirit de Danz!

An Unfinished Draft of a Beginning of a Potential Logo

When I retired, I found it necessary to begin some formal exercise. When working, I got to walk five miles or so a day around the campus.

There was always a reason to be walking from one place to another - something to accomplish - get done - take care of  right away.

Getting into a regular exercise routine  simply for the sake of staying fit and connecting with nature took time.

I walked to the end of the street and back, taking millions of pictures as I went. Needless to say, this was not a power walk. I had to begin just mindfully walking if this were to be an effective ritual.

I went to the YMCA gym to walk on the treadmill when it rained, was too hot to walk, or too cold.  There rarely was anyone there in the morning. I felt uncomfortable when no one else was there, fearing the possibility of being mugged. It was free, but too stressful to keep me motivated.

So, I signed up at Curves, a six  minute walk from my home, paid my $36.80 for a month and gave it a go. At the time of morning when I would go, there were a few other women who came. We got to know each other and I looked forward to exercising daily. During that first month, I found out my supplemental insurance covers the cost, which added a little more to my motivation. I now had some extra bucks to add walking on the treadmill in the gym (given the weather conditions) in the same building.

With my Kindlebook and ipods stocked up with audio books and Abba, I got into a regular five days a week routine of an hour's walk, thirty minutes around the Curves circle of machines, and some yoga stretching.

A great circle of friends developed among the women. Nevertheless, it became somewhat tedious. With  my neighbor accompanying me daily, I kept going anyway. But, a crisis in motivation was definitely rearing its ugly head.

Just in time, the owner of Curves announced that Zumba would be added to the repertoire. We all anticipated its arrival, began learning the moves, got serious about this new addition to our daily exercise.

Zumba is dance. We dance for thirty minutes and do the machines, too. It is a high energy experience. We laugh together and feel great joy. Daily dancing for thirty minutes, sets the pace for dancing through the day.

What was missing was the dance. Now we dance.

I noticed, as I read through this slice of life, that I changed from "I" to "We".
What happens in the dance.?   
Community happens.

Dancing at end of Art of Social Change Workshop, Colquitt, GA 2/ 2011

Shall we dance? 

In what situation would dancing be called for in your life at this time?

What a Wedding!

Justin, Kathleen, and Paige, siblings.- Caroline's children, my granchildren

As the circle of biological and extended families continues to expand, the wonder of it all continues to fill our hearts with overflowing joy.This last weekend,my newfound granddaughter's wedding became the celebration of a life's time.

Kthleen, Caroline's daughter, and my first born biological grandchild, married Bryan in grand style, with elegance and grandeur and great fun. The ambience welcomed everyone into this great circle of love and joy overflowing. Anyone present could not help but participate in the feeling of being madly in love with it all, a feeling which the bride and groom were sharing and eminating abundantly.

Kathleen and Bryan Quinn

The very modern church was packed.  The bride and groom giggled reverently through the ceremony, everyone was smiling, and the service was conducted with sacred delight.

In the great hall next door, its huge space had been transformed into a winter wonderland. People got to know each other, enjoyed the feast prepared by the women of the church, took pictures, and of course, danced through the afternoon.  into the evening - if not on the dance floor, then in their Souls.

The bride's father, Ken, shared that it was more than a wedding reception for him. It was a great community celebration. He had come out of retirement to volunteer for a special assignment in Iraq, and was very grateful to have returned home safely. His platoon were among those at the reception. The church community was there, as were best friends from many different places, and of course the gracious family.

Bryan and Kathleen dancing

But, the wonder of it all shown  brightly in the dancing. Whether dancing in the center of the room, or moving gently in our hearts, there was finally the dancing of Soul's purpose. Such a blessing, one for which I am so very grateful, to live in a time where stigmas of shame are no longer honored and acceptance of the way life really is can be honored so deeply.

What a wonder filled celebration this  last weekend has been!

There has been a paradigm shift of metamorphical proportion. We have all experienced it. We can continue as great drama queens holding on to stifling and desecrating mindsets of what is acceptable and what is shameful. OR we can dance in this great circle  filled with Spirit's Light.  I an grateful for being among those who choose to dance in this light.

Where have you been experiencing this grand  metamorphosis and it's grand celebration?

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?