I am still in Portales, New Mexico, soaking up the hospitality of my friends, Penny and Carol. I am very much at home here because their home is imbued with loving energy. They brought me here for the Holidays on the first Christmas after my divorce when I was feeling unloved and unlovable. And they have participated in my subsequent healing.
I have spent every Christmas since then in their welcoming embrace. And it is interesting to be here now without the need for healing. Today I feel like a whole person and while I enjoy their food, and their hospitality, and their Wi-Fi; this time it feels like I contribute as much as I take.
They have also seen my transformation, in snapshots, once or twice a year, and it is humbling to see myself through their eyes. Today I am thinner (if not thin), tanned and sporting longer hair and a measure of self-assurance. My gifts of insight, and Shamanism, and breath-work have been heartily received and appreciated.
Let me say a word about the length of my hair. It feels good and it came to me when I embarked upon my summer of joy that I should “let my free flag fly”. I am connecting myself back in time, to the 1970’s, when I was in my twenties. My hair was long and the world was open to me; anything was possible. It was only after that point in time that I came to limit myself and shut down and shut out many of my own personal gifts.
Just lately, I am hearing from others that there is a point in each of our lives when we have have felt free, and powerful, and unlimited. A friend talked to me about remembering the time before she entered junior-high and how it felt to be completely secure and fearless, before learning about the roles she would be required to play; before the world imposed its ideas about separation from each other and the whole of creation.
Since time is merely a man-made construction, that other personae is still alive somewhere living life to its fullest, full of joy and freedom and creative energy. If we each have this suppressed part, I think today you and I can reclaim that lost piece and use it to give us new life.
So, just a short while ago I was going through some boxes when I chanced upon a photo of myself when I graduated from Indiana University. It was 1976 and I wore the assurance and hopefulness of youth. I am carrying that photo with me on this journey and it has (to me) an uncanny resemblance to the Osho card that keeps coming up for me entitled: The Rebel.
The photo and the card are my traveling companions; we commune with each other and I am reminded of the things I have lost and now re-found. These two items are totems, sacred objects that witness my progress along with some other objects:
There’s the beautiful piece of raw turquoise from my friend and teacher, Karl; a chunk of white quartz given me three decades ago by my friend, Cheryl; the potted grapevine from my house in Healdsburg; a rock from Dean and Kelly’s “sanctuary”; the tie-dyed sarong from this summer’s mini-Q; the abalone shell from my teacher, Lloyd; the pipe, blessed in the lodge of Dawson No Horse; a stalk of living bamboo and the beautiful painting of "awakening", both gifted me by Meredith.
Sitting in the Airstream, I am surrounded by totems and gifts of the heart. I am truly blessed, and living in grace; preparing to launch myself into the expectant arms of another new moon; another re-imagining.
Thursday, October 28, 2010
Thursday, October 21, 2010
STANDING ON YOUR OWN TWO FEET
It is storming in Portales, NM this morning like the sky is heralding the end of the world. The lightning and the thunder are a contrast to the calming and grounding energy of the place and I am happy to be resting in this slower and healing vibration.
From my camping spot in Santa Fe I was able to take in a 360ยบ view of the sky and the surrounding high desert. The sunsets were amazing every day and I was able to watch the movement of thunder storms sweeping into and out of the area.
One morning I was awakened early by a huge gust of wind that threatened to tear my awning away from the Land Yacht. When I went outside into the chill morning air to rescue the awning, I was greeted by a sky full of misty clouds colored red and pink by the still un-risen sun. The whole canopy of the sky was lit up and vibrating.
While I was in Santa Fe I also experienced the nice synchronicity of being able to sit with Adyashanti for an evening Satsang and then a half-day Intensive. This felt like the completion of a sacred circle for me, since I had personally worked with his book and his teachings to a great degree over the past year. I have employed his suggestions for using “self-inquiry” to notice and dissolve the conditioned thought patterns that have kept me from experiencing the fullness of my true Self.
So I felt like I already knew this teacher, and sitting in the auditorium with him felt like coming home. Something he said made an impression: He suggested that one way of looking at spiritual enlightenment is “standing on your own two feet”. One piece of this idea involves releasing your dependence on teachers and gurus and workshops, in order to discover your own inner guru.
This idea echoes the teaching of Linda Star Wolf of Venus Rising who tells me to discover and nurture the “inner-Shaman” to direct my own spiritual journey. And the process of shamanic journeying involves tapping into the riches of the inner self to heal past woundings and to propel me into the truth of my being.
We are all on the edge of exciting new ways of seeing and being. I am grateful for the teaching and direction of others and for the support of a wonderful spiritual community whenever I land. But it is clear that I am responsible for my own work and for my own well being. So standing on my own two feet feels like an appropriate call for this time.
While I am in the process of working on my books that feature prominently the use of the Tarot in the stories, I draw an occasional card for myself from the Osho oracle deck. I recently drew “New Vision” and sensed immediately that this is also a card for all of us as we move into our next imagining. The card shows a vibrant and strong being rising out of a crippled and beaten down figure that is rooted to the ground. The new self is growing wings and preparing to shoot himself into the heavens; the tip of a pyramid points the way upward and forward.
“New Vision” partners with the card, “Guidance” which also shows two different figures. One self is reluctant and afraid to pay attention to the clear guidance that points to the light. The other figure is a winged angel that launches itself toward the light without any reservations.
This is who we are. We are turning away from the old patterns that do not serve us anymore, and we are becoming our own guru, our own shaman, our own teacher. We are standing on our own two feet.
Thank you to all the dear souls who have given me their blessing for my journey.
On the road in Portales, New Mexico with Penny and Carol.
John Berry Deakyne
The Sedona WordSmith
From my camping spot in Santa Fe I was able to take in a 360ยบ view of the sky and the surrounding high desert. The sunsets were amazing every day and I was able to watch the movement of thunder storms sweeping into and out of the area.
One morning I was awakened early by a huge gust of wind that threatened to tear my awning away from the Land Yacht. When I went outside into the chill morning air to rescue the awning, I was greeted by a sky full of misty clouds colored red and pink by the still un-risen sun. The whole canopy of the sky was lit up and vibrating.
While I was in Santa Fe I also experienced the nice synchronicity of being able to sit with Adyashanti for an evening Satsang and then a half-day Intensive. This felt like the completion of a sacred circle for me, since I had personally worked with his book and his teachings to a great degree over the past year. I have employed his suggestions for using “self-inquiry” to notice and dissolve the conditioned thought patterns that have kept me from experiencing the fullness of my true Self.
So I felt like I already knew this teacher, and sitting in the auditorium with him felt like coming home. Something he said made an impression: He suggested that one way of looking at spiritual enlightenment is “standing on your own two feet”. One piece of this idea involves releasing your dependence on teachers and gurus and workshops, in order to discover your own inner guru.
This idea echoes the teaching of Linda Star Wolf of Venus Rising who tells me to discover and nurture the “inner-Shaman” to direct my own spiritual journey. And the process of shamanic journeying involves tapping into the riches of the inner self to heal past woundings and to propel me into the truth of my being.
We are all on the edge of exciting new ways of seeing and being. I am grateful for the teaching and direction of others and for the support of a wonderful spiritual community whenever I land. But it is clear that I am responsible for my own work and for my own well being. So standing on my own two feet feels like an appropriate call for this time.
While I am in the process of working on my books that feature prominently the use of the Tarot in the stories, I draw an occasional card for myself from the Osho oracle deck. I recently drew “New Vision” and sensed immediately that this is also a card for all of us as we move into our next imagining. The card shows a vibrant and strong being rising out of a crippled and beaten down figure that is rooted to the ground. The new self is growing wings and preparing to shoot himself into the heavens; the tip of a pyramid points the way upward and forward.
“New Vision” partners with the card, “Guidance” which also shows two different figures. One self is reluctant and afraid to pay attention to the clear guidance that points to the light. The other figure is a winged angel that launches itself toward the light without any reservations.
This is who we are. We are turning away from the old patterns that do not serve us anymore, and we are becoming our own guru, our own shaman, our own teacher. We are standing on our own two feet.
Thank you to all the dear souls who have given me their blessing for my journey.
On the road in Portales, New Mexico with Penny and Carol.
John Berry Deakyne
The Sedona WordSmith
Friday, October 8, 2010
BACK ON THE ROAD!
Dear Friends,
I hardly know where to begin. Some of you have expressed concern that I haven’t blogged for two months. Let me just say that I have been mightily distracted by the warm winds of summer and the intoxicating touch of another.
But the advent of autumn opens a new portal for me and the disappearance of the Moon points me toward the resumption of my journey. Yesterday I pulled my Land Yacht out of the Rancho Sedona RV Park after at least three days of oppressive stormy weather complete with thunder, lightning, hail, and tornado warnings.
I was greeted by blue skies and white tufts of cotton candy clouds as I headed up the mountain to Flagstaff. The white tops of the San Francisco Peaks confirmed the abrupt change of the season, so I pulled onto Interstate-40 and headed for Santa Fe. Some of you already know that I am on a pilgrimage to Isis Cove and the Venus Rising Institute outside of Asheville, North Carolina. I have already started the Ministerial training they offer and I am anxious to experience the energy of the community of like-minded folks that have gathered near their headquarters in the Blue Ridge Mountains.
One of the highlights of the summer was the first installment of the Shamanic Breath-work training which was held at the Sanctuary of Sedona in Cornville, AZ. The teaching and ceremonies and exercises presented by Brad and Star Wolf were truly transformative. Our hosts, Kelly and Dean, provided an energetic and healing space for each of us to do some heavy lifting.
I also had the extreme privilege of co-teaching a six-week series of workshops this summer with my beloved friend, Meredith Star Raven, entitled “The Earth School for Souls”. We had a remarkable gathering of co-journeyers who created safe space for each of us to undertake a chunk of our own sacred curriculum.
So I haven’t been inactive this summer, I just haven’t been writing.
I am stopping in Santa Fe now to finish up the publishing pieces of my first novel, “The Tower Card”, and to begin the revision of my second novel, “The Devil Card – The Redemption of Lucifer.”
On the eve of the New Moon I gathered with a group of dear friends in the living room of Sig and Sarah. I made my good-bys there and they all laid their hands on me and gave me their blessings for my journey. Fifteen months ago I pulled my Airstream into Sedona not knowing a soul. I sat in classes at the Unity Church for three months before I ever spoke in a group. Today I am overwhelmed by the unconditional love and high vibration of the souls I have pulled into my awareness at this time. I pray I have given them a small piece of the great gift they have given to me.
So I have been asked, “Why would you leave such a place of light and comfort for the insecurity and scariness of the great unknown?”
That is hard to answer. Sometimes you just have to trust the part of yourself that seems to know something you can’t quite put into words. We call it guidance, and sometimes it shows up in bold letters on the wall, and sometimes it’s only a “still small voice”. Either way, it’s important to pay attention.
And I’m reminded of the lyrics to the song by Cat Stevens that inspired the name of this blog in the first place: “There’s so much left to know, and I’m on the road to find out.”
More to come – and more often. On the road in Santa Fe, New Mexico.
John Berry Deakyne
The Sedona WordSmith
I hardly know where to begin. Some of you have expressed concern that I haven’t blogged for two months. Let me just say that I have been mightily distracted by the warm winds of summer and the intoxicating touch of another.
But the advent of autumn opens a new portal for me and the disappearance of the Moon points me toward the resumption of my journey. Yesterday I pulled my Land Yacht out of the Rancho Sedona RV Park after at least three days of oppressive stormy weather complete with thunder, lightning, hail, and tornado warnings.
I was greeted by blue skies and white tufts of cotton candy clouds as I headed up the mountain to Flagstaff. The white tops of the San Francisco Peaks confirmed the abrupt change of the season, so I pulled onto Interstate-40 and headed for Santa Fe. Some of you already know that I am on a pilgrimage to Isis Cove and the Venus Rising Institute outside of Asheville, North Carolina. I have already started the Ministerial training they offer and I am anxious to experience the energy of the community of like-minded folks that have gathered near their headquarters in the Blue Ridge Mountains.
One of the highlights of the summer was the first installment of the Shamanic Breath-work training which was held at the Sanctuary of Sedona in Cornville, AZ. The teaching and ceremonies and exercises presented by Brad and Star Wolf were truly transformative. Our hosts, Kelly and Dean, provided an energetic and healing space for each of us to do some heavy lifting.
I also had the extreme privilege of co-teaching a six-week series of workshops this summer with my beloved friend, Meredith Star Raven, entitled “The Earth School for Souls”. We had a remarkable gathering of co-journeyers who created safe space for each of us to undertake a chunk of our own sacred curriculum.
So I haven’t been inactive this summer, I just haven’t been writing.
I am stopping in Santa Fe now to finish up the publishing pieces of my first novel, “The Tower Card”, and to begin the revision of my second novel, “The Devil Card – The Redemption of Lucifer.”
On the eve of the New Moon I gathered with a group of dear friends in the living room of Sig and Sarah. I made my good-bys there and they all laid their hands on me and gave me their blessings for my journey. Fifteen months ago I pulled my Airstream into Sedona not knowing a soul. I sat in classes at the Unity Church for three months before I ever spoke in a group. Today I am overwhelmed by the unconditional love and high vibration of the souls I have pulled into my awareness at this time. I pray I have given them a small piece of the great gift they have given to me.
So I have been asked, “Why would you leave such a place of light and comfort for the insecurity and scariness of the great unknown?”
That is hard to answer. Sometimes you just have to trust the part of yourself that seems to know something you can’t quite put into words. We call it guidance, and sometimes it shows up in bold letters on the wall, and sometimes it’s only a “still small voice”. Either way, it’s important to pay attention.
And I’m reminded of the lyrics to the song by Cat Stevens that inspired the name of this blog in the first place: “There’s so much left to know, and I’m on the road to find out.”
More to come – and more often. On the road in Santa Fe, New Mexico.
John Berry Deakyne
The Sedona WordSmith
Monday, July 26, 2010
I AM JUST THREE DAYS OLD
I am reborn. Just when I think life cannot get more profound, it does. I spent three days recently participating in what was previously known as chaplain training for the Unity Church of which I am a member. I say “previously known” because it could not be compared to any chaplain training you would imagine.
On Thursday night I participated in a heart opening ceremony. The power of love in the room was tangible and transformative and purifying. Our teacher, Mark Pope, invoked the final 225 Cathars who were burned at the stake (by the church) because they would not forsake their conviction that there is no teaching higher than that of the transformed heart.
The heart represents, within the world of form, the direct point of contact with the divine. When we touch our hand to our “heart center” we may be reminded of who we really are; of our birthright to the gifts and the power of our creator.
The opening of my heart on Thursday was a prerequisite for undergoing my death on Friday. The transformative cycle of death and rebirth has been a recurring theme in these pages, but the recent ceremony brought it blazing into the forefront of my awareness. My last blog spoke of my personal experience with the “Tower Card” from the Tarot, and the actual drawing of the card by myself and my dear friend certainly predicted our immersion into this process.
We put on the black clothing and solemnly and slowly walked against the movement of the sun and the stars as we unscrewed our attachment to our lives. In the last two hours of my life I placed all the disparate pieces of this existence on the altar, finishing with my will, my plans and my desires. I gave them up freely and watched them burn. I felt as though my mind had completely dissolved, and I was quiet for a long time afterward. Still, I could not resist reflecting for some time with my co-journeyer.
Meredith and I had already scheduled our six-week workshop entitled, The Earth School for Souls. Then on the second day of our new lives we stood up in church and welcomed all others to join us on this extraordinary journey. The timing is beyond our comprehension, and we simply attempt to accept and enjoy the overwhelming inflow of grace.
We are energized and excited to bring this opportunity to our beloved community. We will be using many different tools such as guided meditation, automatic writing, ritual and ceremony to step through our individual stories of hurt and pain into the light of our own truth and power.
If you are in the Sedona area, the workshop will be offered on Mondays starting August 2nd for six weeks; 6:30 – 8:30PM in the sanctuary of Unity Church, 65 Deer Trail Drive. $10 suggested donation per session, $50 for the whole six weeks. We will be reading the book, “A Hit of Heaven – a soul’s journey through illusion” which we will provide at a discounted rate of $10 a copy. We will likely cut off pre-registration when thirty persons have signed up.
Today is just the third day of my new life, or I don’t know, it could be the first day again, I’m losing track. It is coming clearer; as my willingness to love myself increases, my capacity for loving you seems to know no bounds.
P.S. Roger Wyer and I facilitated a mini-workshop on Sunday afternoon focused on expressing awakening moments through writing. We had a beautiful group of folks willing to experiment with us, many of whom had never written a poem and today are amazing and talented poets. Roger's website: http://www.bizworksstudio.com/index.html
If you have questions about the workshop or would like to pre-register call me at (707) 799-7662 or e-mail at jbdeakyne@yahoo.com
Link to Meredith Davis’ blog, “On Raven Wings”: http://starravenblog.blogspot.com
If you are interested in the book, "A Hit of Heaven" by Andrea Avari, and cannot make the workshop, it is available on Amazon.com or at her website: http://www.andreaavari.com/_index.html
Link to Unity of Sedona: http://www.unitysedona.org/index.html for more information on the workshop and other special events.
On Thursday night I participated in a heart opening ceremony. The power of love in the room was tangible and transformative and purifying. Our teacher, Mark Pope, invoked the final 225 Cathars who were burned at the stake (by the church) because they would not forsake their conviction that there is no teaching higher than that of the transformed heart.
The heart represents, within the world of form, the direct point of contact with the divine. When we touch our hand to our “heart center” we may be reminded of who we really are; of our birthright to the gifts and the power of our creator.
The opening of my heart on Thursday was a prerequisite for undergoing my death on Friday. The transformative cycle of death and rebirth has been a recurring theme in these pages, but the recent ceremony brought it blazing into the forefront of my awareness. My last blog spoke of my personal experience with the “Tower Card” from the Tarot, and the actual drawing of the card by myself and my dear friend certainly predicted our immersion into this process.
We put on the black clothing and solemnly and slowly walked against the movement of the sun and the stars as we unscrewed our attachment to our lives. In the last two hours of my life I placed all the disparate pieces of this existence on the altar, finishing with my will, my plans and my desires. I gave them up freely and watched them burn. I felt as though my mind had completely dissolved, and I was quiet for a long time afterward. Still, I could not resist reflecting for some time with my co-journeyer.
Meredith and I had already scheduled our six-week workshop entitled, The Earth School for Souls. Then on the second day of our new lives we stood up in church and welcomed all others to join us on this extraordinary journey. The timing is beyond our comprehension, and we simply attempt to accept and enjoy the overwhelming inflow of grace.
We are energized and excited to bring this opportunity to our beloved community. We will be using many different tools such as guided meditation, automatic writing, ritual and ceremony to step through our individual stories of hurt and pain into the light of our own truth and power.
If you are in the Sedona area, the workshop will be offered on Mondays starting August 2nd for six weeks; 6:30 – 8:30PM in the sanctuary of Unity Church, 65 Deer Trail Drive. $10 suggested donation per session, $50 for the whole six weeks. We will be reading the book, “A Hit of Heaven – a soul’s journey through illusion” which we will provide at a discounted rate of $10 a copy. We will likely cut off pre-registration when thirty persons have signed up.
Today is just the third day of my new life, or I don’t know, it could be the first day again, I’m losing track. It is coming clearer; as my willingness to love myself increases, my capacity for loving you seems to know no bounds.
P.S. Roger Wyer and I facilitated a mini-workshop on Sunday afternoon focused on expressing awakening moments through writing. We had a beautiful group of folks willing to experiment with us, many of whom had never written a poem and today are amazing and talented poets. Roger's website: http://www.bizworksstudio.com/index.html
If you have questions about the workshop or would like to pre-register call me at (707) 799-7662 or e-mail at jbdeakyne@yahoo.com
Link to Meredith Davis’ blog, “On Raven Wings”: http://starravenblog.blogspot.com
If you are interested in the book, "A Hit of Heaven" by Andrea Avari, and cannot make the workshop, it is available on Amazon.com or at her website: http://www.andreaavari.com/_index.html
Link to Unity of Sedona: http://www.unitysedona.org/index.html for more information on the workshop and other special events.
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
WE ARE IN THE THICK OF IT!
You will remember that the title of my first novel invokes the “Tower Card” from the Tarot deck. The lead character in the novel draws the “tower” and proceeds to lose everything he thinks matters, only to discover that loss is the prerequisite for being reborn into something transcendent. It is his story and it is my story.
My work on the novel required me to study and contemplate the “tower” archetypes at length and in depth. And although I have lived the “tower” experience, I had never literally drawn the “tower” for myself . . . UNTIL TODAY! This is one more wave of an energetic ocean I have been immersed in for the past several weeks, and it feels just right.
When I drew the card, I laughed out loud and then I flashed on the advice given by Mark Pope during the class where I first started learning about the Tarot. He said if you draw the Tower Card, “Immediately – get on your knees.” I did. I set my heart to receive, and very quickly got a piece of scripture from II Corinthians: “Old things are passed away, behold all things are become new.”
I got off my knees and looked up the verse in my father’s tattered old King James. He had portions underlined, and the page was book marked by a 1960’s mimeographed bulletin for the Quincy Baptist church where he was pastor. I had an overwhelming feeling of a “presence” across my shoulders and down my back, causing goose-bumps to pop out on my arms and legs.
The bulletin announced the coming of Christmas and the promise of the birth of the Christ. I was six years old when it was printed.
We are in the thick of it. Nothing old can stand against the awakening of spirit. I called my good friend and co-journeyer, Meredith, to tell her about my latest renewal, only to hear that she had also drawn the “tower” for herself this morning. I hear Walter Cronkite saying, “And that’s the way it is.” This cycle of death to the old and diving into newness has become “ordinary”. It looks like the nature of our existence from now on.
Later on this morning I caught sight of myself in the mirror. I looked harder to see if I could detect the latest change; or the abundant changes that have washed over me this year. I looked to see if this really was the character in my book which has to lose everything in order to save his life. I heard this: “You don’t have to lose everything.” I repeated the phrase and felt a presence that I have experienced only a few times, but is now rapidly becoming the everyday.
We are integrating what we have known and what we have experienced into this journey. We open our arms and our hearts to the thrust of grace. We accept the gifts and we bring them into our lives, our work, and our walk.
I have had another piece of scripture floating through my awareness, one I have carried around for decades. My friend reminds me that the prophet, Jeremiah is the author of “Lamentations” which is a long commiseration about being abandoned by God. The one high point speaks to me now. It says, God’s love never ceases; it is reborn at every sunrise and never ends. The verse concludes with the well known phrase, “Great is thy faithfulness.” Hear this with your new ears: God is faithful to us!
My work on the novel required me to study and contemplate the “tower” archetypes at length and in depth. And although I have lived the “tower” experience, I had never literally drawn the “tower” for myself . . . UNTIL TODAY! This is one more wave of an energetic ocean I have been immersed in for the past several weeks, and it feels just right.
When I drew the card, I laughed out loud and then I flashed on the advice given by Mark Pope during the class where I first started learning about the Tarot. He said if you draw the Tower Card, “Immediately – get on your knees.” I did. I set my heart to receive, and very quickly got a piece of scripture from II Corinthians: “Old things are passed away, behold all things are become new.”
I got off my knees and looked up the verse in my father’s tattered old King James. He had portions underlined, and the page was book marked by a 1960’s mimeographed bulletin for the Quincy Baptist church where he was pastor. I had an overwhelming feeling of a “presence” across my shoulders and down my back, causing goose-bumps to pop out on my arms and legs.
The bulletin announced the coming of Christmas and the promise of the birth of the Christ. I was six years old when it was printed.
We are in the thick of it. Nothing old can stand against the awakening of spirit. I called my good friend and co-journeyer, Meredith, to tell her about my latest renewal, only to hear that she had also drawn the “tower” for herself this morning. I hear Walter Cronkite saying, “And that’s the way it is.” This cycle of death to the old and diving into newness has become “ordinary”. It looks like the nature of our existence from now on.
Later on this morning I caught sight of myself in the mirror. I looked harder to see if I could detect the latest change; or the abundant changes that have washed over me this year. I looked to see if this really was the character in my book which has to lose everything in order to save his life. I heard this: “You don’t have to lose everything.” I repeated the phrase and felt a presence that I have experienced only a few times, but is now rapidly becoming the everyday.
We are integrating what we have known and what we have experienced into this journey. We open our arms and our hearts to the thrust of grace. We accept the gifts and we bring them into our lives, our work, and our walk.
I have had another piece of scripture floating through my awareness, one I have carried around for decades. My friend reminds me that the prophet, Jeremiah is the author of “Lamentations” which is a long commiseration about being abandoned by God. The one high point speaks to me now. It says, God’s love never ceases; it is reborn at every sunrise and never ends. The verse concludes with the well known phrase, “Great is thy faithfulness.” Hear this with your new ears: God is faithful to us!
Tuesday, July 6, 2010
BUY A BOAT!
There are no neutral actions; no neutral words; no neutral events. In the world of form we learn that every action produces an opposite and equal reaction. Everything that occurs within our awareness, on the wide screen of our life experience; everything is there to instruct us. It may be slight, or it may be a hammer to the head.
Can you believe that sometimes I notice the subtle events and the gentle lessons, but miss the ones that explode in my face? Still, we are learning to pay attention. We are learning to honor the changes that occur within our line of sight that have come to temper us and make us fit for the time before us.
I made an informed prediction last month that the summer months would bring us all significant challenges and energetic shifts. It would be a rollercoaster ride with ecstatic highs and earth shaking lows. I said:
“It looks like the summer is going to kick our collective asses, and June is a MF. Hold on tight, looks like our circumstances might take a good shaking.”
I can’t speak for anyone else, but June certainly delivered for me. And in spite of my preparation, it was a huge surprise that knocked me down like ten-pins at the bowling alley. Now, remember, there are no neutral words. Did I draw this reality into my experience with my words? Since it was my own construction, it was a true rollercoaster ride, so I built in some impossible heights and more than one “loop-de-loop”. And, because I was the engineer, I put in a predictable dip into the dark places: fear, self-doubt, and worry.
I do hear from others that our circumstances are taking a shaking. And we are avoiding the fluidity of the ground in favor of the sure embrace of the current. I don’t like to give advice, but recently a friend was talking to me about the feeling of being tossed about, and her first conditioned response was to dig in and get rooted. I told her to abandon the seeking of security, and to buy a boat.
For myself, I feel guided to give up my comfortable house in favor of placing wheels beneath my feet. I am a little in awe of my own lack of fear. It is simple. I am just waiting, and I have no doubt that if I make a place for knowing in me, knowing will come.
Now what am I to make of the rest of the summer? It cannot be finished with me yet. I have been promised experiences of childish fun and great joy, and I have been too long without those three-letter items. My path has been pretty serious up to now, and the fourth of July weekend was my gate to joy and a greater lightness of being.
Here’s my last illustration: I burned myself twice this weekend. Once was from boiling hot water from one of those pump pots for making hot tea. The other one was from the edge of a tray I had pulled from a 500 degree gas grill. The round tray left a long graceful burn on my upper arm that did not hurt at first, and now is morphing into a “special effects” gnarly scar. It will not go away quickly and when I consider it, I feel like it is trying to tell me something. What do they say about “twice burned”? Could it be that simple? Okay, I’ll be more careful when I pull a tray off a hot grill. And now I look at the word: “careful”. I need to be full of care, not just for others, but for myself.
And you need to care for yourself. I have been working with the image of a rose this week which I imagine growing from my heart. Two different wise women told me to place myself into the center of the rose. You will do the same. It is not selfish. Care for yourself first, so you are able to care for others. First place the oxygen mask over your own nose and mouth, then attend to others.
Yes I know it wasn't my last illustration (paragraph 9); I had two more. Don't you just love a metaphor? Thanks to my friend Tricia for this weeks photo.
Can you believe that sometimes I notice the subtle events and the gentle lessons, but miss the ones that explode in my face? Still, we are learning to pay attention. We are learning to honor the changes that occur within our line of sight that have come to temper us and make us fit for the time before us.
I made an informed prediction last month that the summer months would bring us all significant challenges and energetic shifts. It would be a rollercoaster ride with ecstatic highs and earth shaking lows. I said:
“It looks like the summer is going to kick our collective asses, and June is a MF. Hold on tight, looks like our circumstances might take a good shaking.”
I can’t speak for anyone else, but June certainly delivered for me. And in spite of my preparation, it was a huge surprise that knocked me down like ten-pins at the bowling alley. Now, remember, there are no neutral words. Did I draw this reality into my experience with my words? Since it was my own construction, it was a true rollercoaster ride, so I built in some impossible heights and more than one “loop-de-loop”. And, because I was the engineer, I put in a predictable dip into the dark places: fear, self-doubt, and worry.
I do hear from others that our circumstances are taking a shaking. And we are avoiding the fluidity of the ground in favor of the sure embrace of the current. I don’t like to give advice, but recently a friend was talking to me about the feeling of being tossed about, and her first conditioned response was to dig in and get rooted. I told her to abandon the seeking of security, and to buy a boat.
For myself, I feel guided to give up my comfortable house in favor of placing wheels beneath my feet. I am a little in awe of my own lack of fear. It is simple. I am just waiting, and I have no doubt that if I make a place for knowing in me, knowing will come.
Now what am I to make of the rest of the summer? It cannot be finished with me yet. I have been promised experiences of childish fun and great joy, and I have been too long without those three-letter items. My path has been pretty serious up to now, and the fourth of July weekend was my gate to joy and a greater lightness of being.
Here’s my last illustration: I burned myself twice this weekend. Once was from boiling hot water from one of those pump pots for making hot tea. The other one was from the edge of a tray I had pulled from a 500 degree gas grill. The round tray left a long graceful burn on my upper arm that did not hurt at first, and now is morphing into a “special effects” gnarly scar. It will not go away quickly and when I consider it, I feel like it is trying to tell me something. What do they say about “twice burned”? Could it be that simple? Okay, I’ll be more careful when I pull a tray off a hot grill. And now I look at the word: “careful”. I need to be full of care, not just for others, but for myself.
And you need to care for yourself. I have been working with the image of a rose this week which I imagine growing from my heart. Two different wise women told me to place myself into the center of the rose. You will do the same. It is not selfish. Care for yourself first, so you are able to care for others. First place the oxygen mask over your own nose and mouth, then attend to others.
Yes I know it wasn't my last illustration (paragraph 9); I had two more. Don't you just love a metaphor? Thanks to my friend Tricia for this weeks photo.
Monday, June 28, 2010
MY GOD WHAT A JOURNEY WE ARE ON!
I am so happy today for my friend and teacher Meredith, who has just put up her first blog:
http://starravenblog.blogspot.com/
She is a remarkable spiritual teacher and guide who has been reluctant to put herself out into the blogosphere. I can relate very well to this hesitation and I look out on you all and see an abundance of talent and ability that is covered up and hidden.
The writer in me was hidden for years and years. I always knew he was there, and he would venture out from time to time to lay down a few lines, then he would quickly scurry back to the security of some dark and secret place. I was keeping it all to myself, and now I see that I was not only cheating myself, I was keeping myself from you. I have been guided in the last months to realize that it is a grave error to hoard you gifts. When they are shared with the world, that action stands to bring you personal joy and abundance.
What an amazing thing it is to make yourself available to whatever is blowing your way. For me, my hidden personas could not fully emerge until I had undergone a radical opening. The opening made me so vulnerable that taking the next steps did not seem so scary.
It bears repeating here, that at the time I was feeling so enthused about emerging as “the writer” and feeling confident that I had finally realized my true self, I met with my teacher, Mark Pope. He leaned across the table and said tenderly, “You know, John, the next one you’re going to have to wake up from is the writer.” I leaned back in my chair and thought to myself, “Oh shit!” Because I knew in a flash that he was right.
“The writer” is not who I really am. But I had fixated for so long on that goal, that when I had achieved it, I thought I had arrived. Now it is just a funny story. When I understand who I really am and stand in that truth, “the writer” is available to me at any time. He is not an elusive mystical persona; he is an aspect of me that I can utilize. He is the hammer, but I hold the tool in my hand. Every realization is another opening.
And just when I think I cannot be any more open, something else shows up and points me further down The Road to Find Out. This last week I participated with some beautiful and masterful teachers in what they called Shamanic Breath-work. I had heard about the process and frankly was a little frightened of the practice. The work involves placing yourself into a trance state, and I was not sure my active mind would let me go there.
They instructed us to practice the breath up to the point that we were surprised. And I wondered, “Surprised by what?” I found out. The months of work I had done in Sedona prepared me for this moment, just at this time. I went into the altered state quite easily. That was the surprise! And I journeyed. I flew through the air, I swam in the ocean like a fish, and I even tunneled into the earth and was reborn as a tree. I don’t remember encountering the element “fire” but when I came out, I felt like the whole experience could be called “standing in the fire”.
I was brought out of the trance by a soft heart-beat drumming and the gentle voice of Linda Star Wolf:. http://shamanicbreathwork.org/ I was reluctant and slow to return. At the end of the process my body had become quite heavy and felt like it was sinking into the floor.
But I was brought back by the soft touch of my co-journeyer, Meredith, who welcomed me home with an embrace. I was overwhelmed by what can only be called divine love for her and all the others in the room, most of whom I didn’t even know. “You, the white-haired guy in the black shirt, ‘I love you.’ And the couple from Cornville, ‘I love you too.’”
Today I praise the summer, and embrace the joy and fun that the season promises.
http://starravenblog.blogspot.com/
She is a remarkable spiritual teacher and guide who has been reluctant to put herself out into the blogosphere. I can relate very well to this hesitation and I look out on you all and see an abundance of talent and ability that is covered up and hidden.
The writer in me was hidden for years and years. I always knew he was there, and he would venture out from time to time to lay down a few lines, then he would quickly scurry back to the security of some dark and secret place. I was keeping it all to myself, and now I see that I was not only cheating myself, I was keeping myself from you. I have been guided in the last months to realize that it is a grave error to hoard you gifts. When they are shared with the world, that action stands to bring you personal joy and abundance.
What an amazing thing it is to make yourself available to whatever is blowing your way. For me, my hidden personas could not fully emerge until I had undergone a radical opening. The opening made me so vulnerable that taking the next steps did not seem so scary.
It bears repeating here, that at the time I was feeling so enthused about emerging as “the writer” and feeling confident that I had finally realized my true self, I met with my teacher, Mark Pope. He leaned across the table and said tenderly, “You know, John, the next one you’re going to have to wake up from is the writer.” I leaned back in my chair and thought to myself, “Oh shit!” Because I knew in a flash that he was right.
“The writer” is not who I really am. But I had fixated for so long on that goal, that when I had achieved it, I thought I had arrived. Now it is just a funny story. When I understand who I really am and stand in that truth, “the writer” is available to me at any time. He is not an elusive mystical persona; he is an aspect of me that I can utilize. He is the hammer, but I hold the tool in my hand. Every realization is another opening.
And just when I think I cannot be any more open, something else shows up and points me further down The Road to Find Out. This last week I participated with some beautiful and masterful teachers in what they called Shamanic Breath-work. I had heard about the process and frankly was a little frightened of the practice. The work involves placing yourself into a trance state, and I was not sure my active mind would let me go there.
They instructed us to practice the breath up to the point that we were surprised. And I wondered, “Surprised by what?” I found out. The months of work I had done in Sedona prepared me for this moment, just at this time. I went into the altered state quite easily. That was the surprise! And I journeyed. I flew through the air, I swam in the ocean like a fish, and I even tunneled into the earth and was reborn as a tree. I don’t remember encountering the element “fire” but when I came out, I felt like the whole experience could be called “standing in the fire”.
I was brought out of the trance by a soft heart-beat drumming and the gentle voice of Linda Star Wolf:. http://shamanicbreathwork.org/ I was reluctant and slow to return. At the end of the process my body had become quite heavy and felt like it was sinking into the floor.
But I was brought back by the soft touch of my co-journeyer, Meredith, who welcomed me home with an embrace. I was overwhelmed by what can only be called divine love for her and all the others in the room, most of whom I didn’t even know. “You, the white-haired guy in the black shirt, ‘I love you.’ And the couple from Cornville, ‘I love you too.’”
Today I praise the summer, and embrace the joy and fun that the season promises.
Sunday, June 20, 2010
BOYS WILL BE BOYS
Today, my body is a jumbled mess of sensations and vibrations. I have the post partum feelings of birthing a novel. I have the stimulation of all the synchronistic encounters I seem to have daily within the magical city limits of Sedona. I have the pure joy of spending time with friends who seem to know my soul and who reveal themselves to me without shame. I have the bottomless well of surprising and transcendent experiences.
Today it all adds up to ecstasy and bliss, and I am of no use to the world, so don’t ask me to look under your hood or to untangle your illusions. Praise God, I am of no use to you today!
And I don’t know where this writing will take me, because I am sitting down with no plan, no preconceptions, and no agenda.
I said I would say something about the men’s group I frequent, so let’s do that. I have mentioned here before that a critical movement in my own spiritual awakening was the experience of what might be called an emotional break which led to an opening. The form that delivered the opportunity for breaking appeared to me as a woman, and that is fully consistent with my past patterns and history with women.
I told my friend and teacher that I had a history of giving too much and giving in too easily to the will of women in my life. She said, “Yes.” So I asked, “Can you see that?”
And like the fragile flower that she is, she delicately replied, “Ray Charles could see that!”
I knew she was being sarcastic, because Ray Charles is . . . dead.
So it is fitting and appropriate that a woman showed me where to break. But when I needed a safe place to land; a place where I could put my opening on display without fear. That was provided by the men in my Sacred Circle, the gratitude circle I attend on Saturday mornings. I had permission to be vulnerable there, because so many of them had opened already and showed their soft underbellies, something men are conditioned to avoid at all cost in our culture.
It bears telling, that the women in the circle were the ones who first showed us the advantages of being open and defenseless. And being men, we quickly co-opted the practice as our own.
So that brings us to the small group of men who have just started meeting on the deck of Mark’s cabin on a jagged bluff overlooking Oak Creek. The 360 degree vistas are of rolling, high-desert tundra, mountains, and endless sky. We grill meat, and tell off-color jokes, and belch and scratch our asses when they itch. I said I wouldn’t tell about all the swearing, or the farting, or about peeing off the side of the deck. So I won’t.
It seems that although we are men who are attempting to embrace our own feminine energy, the adage still holds true, that “boys will be boys.”
We also played flutes and softly beat a drum. We sat quietly and absorbed the blessing of the setting sun, and we watched the stars come out, one by one. We marveled at the brightness of Venus, and discussed the movement of the planets, the stars and the constellations. And I thought, “All these gentle men.”
Today it all adds up to ecstasy and bliss, and I am of no use to the world, so don’t ask me to look under your hood or to untangle your illusions. Praise God, I am of no use to you today!
And I don’t know where this writing will take me, because I am sitting down with no plan, no preconceptions, and no agenda.
I said I would say something about the men’s group I frequent, so let’s do that. I have mentioned here before that a critical movement in my own spiritual awakening was the experience of what might be called an emotional break which led to an opening. The form that delivered the opportunity for breaking appeared to me as a woman, and that is fully consistent with my past patterns and history with women.
I told my friend and teacher that I had a history of giving too much and giving in too easily to the will of women in my life. She said, “Yes.” So I asked, “Can you see that?”
And like the fragile flower that she is, she delicately replied, “Ray Charles could see that!”
I knew she was being sarcastic, because Ray Charles is . . . dead.
So it is fitting and appropriate that a woman showed me where to break. But when I needed a safe place to land; a place where I could put my opening on display without fear. That was provided by the men in my Sacred Circle, the gratitude circle I attend on Saturday mornings. I had permission to be vulnerable there, because so many of them had opened already and showed their soft underbellies, something men are conditioned to avoid at all cost in our culture.
It bears telling, that the women in the circle were the ones who first showed us the advantages of being open and defenseless. And being men, we quickly co-opted the practice as our own.
So that brings us to the small group of men who have just started meeting on the deck of Mark’s cabin on a jagged bluff overlooking Oak Creek. The 360 degree vistas are of rolling, high-desert tundra, mountains, and endless sky. We grill meat, and tell off-color jokes, and belch and scratch our asses when they itch. I said I wouldn’t tell about all the swearing, or the farting, or about peeing off the side of the deck. So I won’t.
It seems that although we are men who are attempting to embrace our own feminine energy, the adage still holds true, that “boys will be boys.”
We also played flutes and softly beat a drum. We sat quietly and absorbed the blessing of the setting sun, and we watched the stars come out, one by one. We marveled at the brightness of Venus, and discussed the movement of the planets, the stars and the constellations. And I thought, “All these gentle men.”
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
The Tower Card - It's the End of Your World
I am in a writing workshop this week giving birth to the second novel in the Tarot Series, and it is trying to come out breech. My lovely niece just gave birth to a beautiful baby girl, so she might disagree that my process is similar. The first book will shortly be available in both hard copies and as an E-book, so I am going to print a small sample here, so you can get a taste of the style and the content. These are the very first paragraphs of the book:
PROLOGUE - THE TOWER CARD
This is the story, the journey of Adam, who here will move from deep sleep to blessed awakening. He is me – but he is another seeker. Like me, his whole world will need to fall into shambles before he can become his true Self.
It started downtown on the plaza – it was a fundraiser for the town museum. There was a scattering of homemade booths selling baked goods next to the farmers’ market. She, Cherie, was busy as usual making the rounds. She would chat up every wealthy person – man or woman – she could spot. At some point she would laugh and throw back her head full of thick yellow hair, laying her hand softly on the arms of silver-haired gentlemen who would delight at her touch and her attention, cementing her into their memory next time they wanted to buy or sell a house. Or, they would send her their friend from the city who needed a wine country retreat and who expected to be treated with due deference.
She would not surface for hours, and the husband, Adam, would be reduced to amusing himself with looking at fresh Bing cherries and tables of pottery. At one point, when she had completely focused her attention on another, Adam saw his opening and pulled away from her considerable gravity.
He was moving to the center of the plaza when he noticed a small child, a little girl about three years old, looking all around for what must be a missing parent, just on the brink of tears. Adam conducted a quick search of the area looking for any potential owners, and then he squatted down to engage the small being. She was a cherub with beautiful red curls falling over her eyes and onto her red tinted cheeks. She was on the edge of exploding. He said, “Where is your mommy?”
At the word “mommy” she roared with overwhelming fear and desperation. He had kicked open the floodgates and now the tears and wailing poured out. Adam was quite startled by the sudden show of emotion, still squatting, and afraid to touch the poor child, but wanting to comfort her. He held out his arms to her, hoping to lift her to some official table where they would be able to locate the mommy. Suddenly, the mommy was over him, hovering, like a raptor. She swooped in and swept the screaming child into her arms. Mommy quickly transported the tiny being out of reach, glaring at him with eyes full of fury and reproach.
A small crowd had gathered around the spectacle and Adam finally rose to a standing position, the onlookers still gazing at him with suspicion. He brought up both his hands, palms to the sky, and said, “What?”
He escaped the mob before they could gather torches and pitchforks and continued his move to the center of the plaza looking for a refuge. “What’s that, a chair?”
PROLOGUE - THE TOWER CARD
This is the story, the journey of Adam, who here will move from deep sleep to blessed awakening. He is me – but he is another seeker. Like me, his whole world will need to fall into shambles before he can become his true Self.
It started downtown on the plaza – it was a fundraiser for the town museum. There was a scattering of homemade booths selling baked goods next to the farmers’ market. She, Cherie, was busy as usual making the rounds. She would chat up every wealthy person – man or woman – she could spot. At some point she would laugh and throw back her head full of thick yellow hair, laying her hand softly on the arms of silver-haired gentlemen who would delight at her touch and her attention, cementing her into their memory next time they wanted to buy or sell a house. Or, they would send her their friend from the city who needed a wine country retreat and who expected to be treated with due deference.
She would not surface for hours, and the husband, Adam, would be reduced to amusing himself with looking at fresh Bing cherries and tables of pottery. At one point, when she had completely focused her attention on another, Adam saw his opening and pulled away from her considerable gravity.
He was moving to the center of the plaza when he noticed a small child, a little girl about three years old, looking all around for what must be a missing parent, just on the brink of tears. Adam conducted a quick search of the area looking for any potential owners, and then he squatted down to engage the small being. She was a cherub with beautiful red curls falling over her eyes and onto her red tinted cheeks. She was on the edge of exploding. He said, “Where is your mommy?”
At the word “mommy” she roared with overwhelming fear and desperation. He had kicked open the floodgates and now the tears and wailing poured out. Adam was quite startled by the sudden show of emotion, still squatting, and afraid to touch the poor child, but wanting to comfort her. He held out his arms to her, hoping to lift her to some official table where they would be able to locate the mommy. Suddenly, the mommy was over him, hovering, like a raptor. She swooped in and swept the screaming child into her arms. Mommy quickly transported the tiny being out of reach, glaring at him with eyes full of fury and reproach.
A small crowd had gathered around the spectacle and Adam finally rose to a standing position, the onlookers still gazing at him with suspicion. He brought up both his hands, palms to the sky, and said, “What?”
He escaped the mob before they could gather torches and pitchforks and continued his move to the center of the plaza looking for a refuge. “What’s that, a chair?”
Monday, June 7, 2010
PUSHING OFF INTO THE FLOW
Today, I am on day six of the “Master Cleanse”. I am taking the cleanse to prepare myself for the upcoming writing workshop where I plan to write the whole first draft of my second novel. This will be the second in the series of “Tarot” themed books, and it is currently untitled.
When I heard about “the cleanse” I looked at my calendar and saw that I had exactly ten days to the retreat, and the recommended time for the process is ten days. It felt just right, so I started immediately. My diet is limited to pure water with fresh lemon juice, maple syrup, and cayenne pepper. I can also have unflavored water and herbal tea. No food, no coffee, no caffeine at all, no beer, no wine, no hot dogs.
Yes, it is extreme – and extreme is exactly what is called for. My friend is also doing a cleanse and we are giving each other support and encouragement during this time. She explained that this should be approached as sacred ceremony. We enter this experience with reverence and respect. We are witness to the body doing what it was built to do. We are witness to the symptoms of detoxification. It is a wonder to behold.
This process forces me to go into myself. There is time freed up from eating, and food preparation, and thinking about and planning meals and snacks. Now is the time to go inward; the pieces that need to be noticed will rise in my awareness and now will be the time to give them my attention. If there is one predominant purpose for this fasting, it is for the gaining of clarity. I need that for my writing, and even more so for my living.
I won’t say that every moment so far has been painless; but right now I am not hungry, my mind is clear, I feel calm and at peace. The world is vivid; the sun graces the lawn and the tree tops. A bunch of daisies outside my window have just opened this morning, to promise me my daily delivery of grace and rebirth.
We are all in the process of being transformed. My process is aided by frequent visits to the creek. It has been transcendent to sit on the smooth sandstone and dangle my feet into the clear, cold, cleansing flow of water. I have set there with a friend and the most profound moments have been the silences between speaking.
We have seen a pair of young Golden Eagles dancing in the tree tops. We have watched the wild ducks and ducklings ride the quick water. We have watched the sunlight play on the surface of the undulating flow, causing a myriad display of impossible colors and textures. We have sensed the presence of unseen beings floating through; we have merged with them and recognized our unity, our oneness.
I am reminded of the story of the Buddha, who dangled his foot into the stream and was overtaken by the sudden understanding that his stretch of water was connected to all the water everywhere. In an instant he sensed the river into which the stream emptied, and the delta and the ocean, and all the seas and oceans and rivers and streams that were connected to this water. He sensed the swampy headwater of this stream and the mighty mountains that fed the flow. In an instant, he was connected to all that is, all that has been and all that will ever be.
So I will return often to the creek to plunge my feet into the everlasting. And I will take its lesson that now it is critical to stay in the flow of spirit. I will push off from clinging to the stable rocks along the water's edge, and cast myself into mystery and adventure and the sure push of divine love.
When I heard about “the cleanse” I looked at my calendar and saw that I had exactly ten days to the retreat, and the recommended time for the process is ten days. It felt just right, so I started immediately. My diet is limited to pure water with fresh lemon juice, maple syrup, and cayenne pepper. I can also have unflavored water and herbal tea. No food, no coffee, no caffeine at all, no beer, no wine, no hot dogs.
Yes, it is extreme – and extreme is exactly what is called for. My friend is also doing a cleanse and we are giving each other support and encouragement during this time. She explained that this should be approached as sacred ceremony. We enter this experience with reverence and respect. We are witness to the body doing what it was built to do. We are witness to the symptoms of detoxification. It is a wonder to behold.
This process forces me to go into myself. There is time freed up from eating, and food preparation, and thinking about and planning meals and snacks. Now is the time to go inward; the pieces that need to be noticed will rise in my awareness and now will be the time to give them my attention. If there is one predominant purpose for this fasting, it is for the gaining of clarity. I need that for my writing, and even more so for my living.
I won’t say that every moment so far has been painless; but right now I am not hungry, my mind is clear, I feel calm and at peace. The world is vivid; the sun graces the lawn and the tree tops. A bunch of daisies outside my window have just opened this morning, to promise me my daily delivery of grace and rebirth.
We are all in the process of being transformed. My process is aided by frequent visits to the creek. It has been transcendent to sit on the smooth sandstone and dangle my feet into the clear, cold, cleansing flow of water. I have set there with a friend and the most profound moments have been the silences between speaking.
We have seen a pair of young Golden Eagles dancing in the tree tops. We have watched the wild ducks and ducklings ride the quick water. We have watched the sunlight play on the surface of the undulating flow, causing a myriad display of impossible colors and textures. We have sensed the presence of unseen beings floating through; we have merged with them and recognized our unity, our oneness.
I am reminded of the story of the Buddha, who dangled his foot into the stream and was overtaken by the sudden understanding that his stretch of water was connected to all the water everywhere. In an instant he sensed the river into which the stream emptied, and the delta and the ocean, and all the seas and oceans and rivers and streams that were connected to this water. He sensed the swampy headwater of this stream and the mighty mountains that fed the flow. In an instant, he was connected to all that is, all that has been and all that will ever be.
So I will return often to the creek to plunge my feet into the everlasting. And I will take its lesson that now it is critical to stay in the flow of spirit. I will push off from clinging to the stable rocks along the water's edge, and cast myself into mystery and adventure and the sure push of divine love.
Monday, May 31, 2010
WHO WOULDN'T WANT TO LIVE IN A COCOON?
It’s Memorial Day in Sedona. There is a possibility that it is also Memorial Day somewhere else – but I cannot speak to that. A friend recently told me, “You live in a cocoon.” And that sounds true. I understand that elsewhere, folks are concerned about elections and the performance of the president; funny. I have heard about the oil well disaster but most of my contemporaries simply shake their heads; of course that would be next. Could it be otherwise?
Do not misunderstand me. Just because we live in a cocoon, does not mean that we are exempt from the deluding insanity that is the everyday existence of the collective consciousness. We are you, and you are we and we must all take responsibility for the fantastically beautiful and horrible mess we have constructed. One difference may be that many of us here are attempting to vibrate at a new and unheard of frequency. We understand that we are all amazingly creative beings, and we have no choice now but to begin the transformation of the planet.
Sometimes it feels like we live at the epicenter of the New Earth. I actually hope that is not true. I pray that these centers exist all over the planet and that the energy we create is like a ripple on still water; ripples that radiate outward and connect with the ones that are also spreading across the planet.
Let me speak to the mindset of my dear friends and family who embrace traditional Christian practice. All this talk of the New Earth should resonate with you. It is a reference to the thousand year reign of Christ that is ordained in the book of Revelation. Open yourself to the possibility that the prophecy has been misunderstood or misstaught over the last century. Christian churches are constantly separating themselves from each other because of their different interpretations of “end times” scripture. Why do we quibble about the order of events, the timeline, and the logistics? It just seems silly, now that we are here.
If we look at the track-record of Jesus the Nazarene we will see how we could easily miss the obvious. Why was Jesus not accepted as the Messiah by his own people, from his time to the present? It is because his entry onto the scene did not match their preconceptions or their interpretation of scripture. They were expecting the sky to open and for their savior to appear in form holding a terrible sword, riding a white horse, and wearing a countenance full of wrath. Sound familiar? Where they wrong? Are you?
I’m not sure if the disciples were really as stupid as they appear in the gospels or if that was just a teaching technique. But Jesus is constantly repeating to them that the essential elements for experiencing the Kingdom of Heaven are things that are subtle and unseen. They did not even fully understand the second coming of Christ that literally hit them over the head when they received the baptism of the Holy Spirit as described in the book of Acts. This event was the foreshadowing of the third, fourth, hundredth and thousandth coming of Christ that most of us also did not notice, because we were blinded by belief.
I am as certain that the Christ walks this planet crust at this time, as anything I have ever known, because I have seen him. I have seen him in the eyes of the others who sit with me in the sacred circle. I have felt him in the gentle touch, freely given, that heals my broken heart. I have seen him in the mirror.
This evening I will sit with friends and enjoy hot dogs and potato salad and a good micro-brew. I know you were thinking: sprouts and tempeh loaf and wheat grass. See, maybe we really are “One.”
Memorial Day is for remembering, so let us remember who we truly are and why we are here.
Now . . . everybody vibrate!
Do not misunderstand me. Just because we live in a cocoon, does not mean that we are exempt from the deluding insanity that is the everyday existence of the collective consciousness. We are you, and you are we and we must all take responsibility for the fantastically beautiful and horrible mess we have constructed. One difference may be that many of us here are attempting to vibrate at a new and unheard of frequency. We understand that we are all amazingly creative beings, and we have no choice now but to begin the transformation of the planet.
Sometimes it feels like we live at the epicenter of the New Earth. I actually hope that is not true. I pray that these centers exist all over the planet and that the energy we create is like a ripple on still water; ripples that radiate outward and connect with the ones that are also spreading across the planet.
Let me speak to the mindset of my dear friends and family who embrace traditional Christian practice. All this talk of the New Earth should resonate with you. It is a reference to the thousand year reign of Christ that is ordained in the book of Revelation. Open yourself to the possibility that the prophecy has been misunderstood or misstaught over the last century. Christian churches are constantly separating themselves from each other because of their different interpretations of “end times” scripture. Why do we quibble about the order of events, the timeline, and the logistics? It just seems silly, now that we are here.
If we look at the track-record of Jesus the Nazarene we will see how we could easily miss the obvious. Why was Jesus not accepted as the Messiah by his own people, from his time to the present? It is because his entry onto the scene did not match their preconceptions or their interpretation of scripture. They were expecting the sky to open and for their savior to appear in form holding a terrible sword, riding a white horse, and wearing a countenance full of wrath. Sound familiar? Where they wrong? Are you?
I’m not sure if the disciples were really as stupid as they appear in the gospels or if that was just a teaching technique. But Jesus is constantly repeating to them that the essential elements for experiencing the Kingdom of Heaven are things that are subtle and unseen. They did not even fully understand the second coming of Christ that literally hit them over the head when they received the baptism of the Holy Spirit as described in the book of Acts. This event was the foreshadowing of the third, fourth, hundredth and thousandth coming of Christ that most of us also did not notice, because we were blinded by belief.
I am as certain that the Christ walks this planet crust at this time, as anything I have ever known, because I have seen him. I have seen him in the eyes of the others who sit with me in the sacred circle. I have felt him in the gentle touch, freely given, that heals my broken heart. I have seen him in the mirror.
This evening I will sit with friends and enjoy hot dogs and potato salad and a good micro-brew. I know you were thinking: sprouts and tempeh loaf and wheat grass. See, maybe we really are “One.”
Memorial Day is for remembering, so let us remember who we truly are and why we are here.
Now . . . everybody vibrate!
Sunday, May 23, 2010
I AM HERE BEHIND THE WOUNDED ONES
I yearn. It is an activity that is beyond hoping and beyond trying. It is an ache combined with desire. The objects of this existence will not line up nicely for me, though I set them in order again and again. So I must tear the world down repeatedly and undertake its reconstruction.
I yearn to be complete again. The knowing of the perfect one I am is just outside my remembering. The conditioning and the constructions that separate my awareness from my perfection have not all slipped away. Still it is “I” who peek around the ones who shelter me from your gaze. You may not see consciousness when you look at me unless you look with perfect eyes.
I am here, behind the wounded ones; behind the broken ones; behind the chained ones; behind the ones with shattered hearts. There are so many pieces of me to look past, but won’t you try?
And in my quest, it has proven mandatory that I be made completely open to the rampant hurricane breath of the divine. My opening has not been gentle, but so poetic that it be delivered by a loved one.
She was the rock I leaned upon when there was so much turmoil in me. And when the support was taken away, I was taught how to stand. Yet I misunderstood the metaphor. I misjudged that rocks were only for support; something to hold onto in a storm. But ships are wrecked upon the rocks, and a rock may be a deadly weapon in certain hands. This one, applied just right, cracked me open.
I am grateful for the opening, if not for the breaking. But there is no opening without breaking, so I must humbly give thanks for that as well. It is the opening that reveals how closely lie the peaceful grassy hillsides and the still, quenching waters of tranquility.
It is the opening that informs me that I need not bother trying to manage circumstances or relationships. My own management of these matters has been found lacking. But surrendering them is no easy task for Capricorn Rising. He likes to have a hand in things.
It is the opening that reveals to me the heartbreaking existence of so many of my other expressions, and my love goes out to you full of joy and tears. We will all find our own way, in our own time.
Today I laughed and danced, lifted my voice to the rafters. I kissed my partner on both cheeks, and in saying good-by, kissed the beautiful reflection of my best self – the Beloved on the mouth.
I yearn to be complete again. The knowing of the perfect one I am is just outside my remembering. The conditioning and the constructions that separate my awareness from my perfection have not all slipped away. Still it is “I” who peek around the ones who shelter me from your gaze. You may not see consciousness when you look at me unless you look with perfect eyes.
I am here, behind the wounded ones; behind the broken ones; behind the chained ones; behind the ones with shattered hearts. There are so many pieces of me to look past, but won’t you try?
And in my quest, it has proven mandatory that I be made completely open to the rampant hurricane breath of the divine. My opening has not been gentle, but so poetic that it be delivered by a loved one.
She was the rock I leaned upon when there was so much turmoil in me. And when the support was taken away, I was taught how to stand. Yet I misunderstood the metaphor. I misjudged that rocks were only for support; something to hold onto in a storm. But ships are wrecked upon the rocks, and a rock may be a deadly weapon in certain hands. This one, applied just right, cracked me open.
I am grateful for the opening, if not for the breaking. But there is no opening without breaking, so I must humbly give thanks for that as well. It is the opening that reveals how closely lie the peaceful grassy hillsides and the still, quenching waters of tranquility.
It is the opening that informs me that I need not bother trying to manage circumstances or relationships. My own management of these matters has been found lacking. But surrendering them is no easy task for Capricorn Rising. He likes to have a hand in things.
It is the opening that reveals to me the heartbreaking existence of so many of my other expressions, and my love goes out to you full of joy and tears. We will all find our own way, in our own time.
Today I laughed and danced, lifted my voice to the rafters. I kissed my partner on both cheeks, and in saying good-by, kissed the beautiful reflection of my best self – the Beloved on the mouth.
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