May 7, 2014
THE VERY IMPORTANT SMALL THINGS
I look into his large brown eyes. Someone very much alive is looking back. He doesn't have language yet, at least not people language. Yet, he is thinking---something. The corner of his little mouth turns up without breaking the rhythm of his sucking. His eyes smile. I feel sweet, untainted love radiate from his squirmy little body into mine. The bottle empties. He lets go the nipple and sighs. Then he squeals and grins and kicks his pudgy little legs. I lift him up for burping. He stands sturdily on my thighs. He is all of two feet high, maybe.
In another five weeks I will be gone--swept back to the Northlands to my little house and my woods and my Great Lake. Back to my solitude and my writing. Back to gardening and kayaking and camping with my husband. For now, I am my grandsons' nanny.
I have been here now for seven weeks. It is the most intense lesson I have had in being present, living in the Now. I have friends traveling in Europe. I have a friend who went sailing in the Caribbean. I have a friend acting in a play. I have friends working hard at teaching and politicking and doing all manner of important work.
I make breakfasts and dinners and do up the laundry and sweep up the floors and blow little noses and change dirty diapers and play "Fight the Goblins" in the park with a four year old. When asked, "what's going on in your life?" I'm not sure what to say. Today I made bread and took a walk through the neighborhood with the baby and chatted with the local drunk who wished me a wonderful day and found a little vase for the fistful of dandelions my four-year-old grandson brought to me.
About a year and a half ago I took on a part time job as a nanny to bring in some supplemental income. I hadn't provided regular, hands-on "mommy care" for babies and pre-schoolers for a very long time with the exception of a few weeks here and there with my grandson. A few weeks into the job I had a self-worth crisis. After changing a poopy diaper and then trying to carry a very fussy, very heavy one-year-old around, I kept thinking, "What am I DOING here?! I should be teaching! I should be providing consulting services to some organization or school! I've "been here, done this" a LONG time ago!" I felt angry and small.
It got worse, or rather, I got worse. I began to engage in vicious games of "If Only I'd..." and "Compared to Her"... One afternoon as I rocked the fussy child to sleep, something inside me broke open. I cried. A soggy, smelly mess of nasty, old, mouldering energy poured out, toxic junk from a long ago time when I didn't feel like I was of much value "just being a mom". I had tried to be the best mom I could, of course, but I don't know that I collected any gold stars or honors certificates; certainly not any mother-of-the-year trophies, which to me, at the time, meant I'd not even managed to be very successful even at "just being a mom". I watched the sleeping child in my arms. "Who are you?" I whispered. "From where did you come? Why did you come? Maybe I am caring for a child who will grow up to be a great man and who will do really important work in the world, I thought. What are you here on this Earth to do? What gifts have you brought?" In this little human body is a great Being of Light trying to come to terms with being human, I thought. A Being constrained by time and space and the human growth cycle and experience--for now, at the mercy of his caretakers. Perhaps this Being, outside of the time and space we both have incarnated into here on Earth, is my Teacher, a great Master, a Leader...
The longer I thought about this, the more humbled I felt. I knew what a privilege it is to do this work of service--caring for the small ones. Whether they are our own children or someone else's doesn't matter--we are all one, all connected, all individuated aspects of Consciousness, or as Einstein would say, Universe. But I think I had only known this in my head. That afternoon with the golden haired little toddler my heart opened and let the fullness of this truth into a space it had not been able to reach before. The rest of my time at that job I felt honored and important and regarded my work as sacred. I was greeted warmly when I arrived and sent home with kisses and repeated goodbyes and I love yous, no less valuable for coming from a 2 and 6 year old than a grown-up; my work no less important than that of a professor in front of a packed lecture hall.
Now, 18 months later, I look deeply into the eyes of this beautiful three month old grandson of mine. My heart fills up and my breath catches as I open up to this privileged time learning to be so very Present. My to-do list and my early morning meditation spent visualizing my ideal day is sure to be adjusted several times over. This is where I get to be today. Here with these children. Taking time to watch the ants build a home in the cracked sidewalk. Teaching a little boy how to pick a flower by the stem, and hold his shirt sleeves in his fist when putting on his jacket. Rolling on the floor giggling as we invent new things "the fox says"; telling stories "with my mouth" (i.e. made up ones). Today the baby discovered his toes. Last week he giggled. The week before he discovered he could do all kinds of things with his voice. I get to witness these discoveries.
Some day perhaps he will win a Nobel Prize for some other discovery and perhaps if I am lucky, I will get to witness that as well.
Friday, May 9, 2014
Friday, April 25, 2014
HAPPY FACE
HAPPY FACE
April 25, 2014
Melvin woke
up. He rocked. Gently the waters lifted him, and gently set
him down again. Up…and down. Up…and down. He and his tribe. Up…and down. High above in the black waters of space the
rock of the moon smiled down at Melvin. Melvin
smiled back.
No matter where you are…no matter what you
do…keep lighting up the world with your smile.
Sunday, April 20, 2014
FEAR IS NOT REAL
April 19, 2014
Fear Is Not Real
"Fear is not real. The only place that fear can exist is in our thoughts of the future. It is a product of our imagination, causing us to fear things that do not at present and may not ever exist. That is near insanity. Do not misunderstand, danger is very real, but fear is a choice."
--from Cypher Raige in the movie "After Earth"--
I was asked recently what lesson, or idea seems to keep coming up for me--one I haven't mastered or moved through or achieved as yet. I didn't have to think very long or very hard.
"Fear," I said.
I know I am not alone in this one. Most of the human population is radiating a frequency of fear.
The way I learn best is through story. I am so grateful to the great storytellers who are making it possible for us to wake up from our deep slumbers and take back our lives. The Wachowski's The Matrix... that one comes to mind over and over as I observe the world around me--too many people still choosing the illusions that allow them to dream their lives away asleep; others waking up with a Roar, spitting out the amniotic fluids that held them in suspended animation.
J.K. Rowling's Boggarts from the world of the Harry Potter series are a favorite of mine, as are her Dementors, both such rich examples of how our own thoughts and beliefs, our perception of reality, creates how we experience reality. Boggarts are strange little creatures, harmless except for their ability to morph into what we most fear--and gain more substance and power in direct proportion to the intensity of our fear. If we believe it is real, it is. If we believe it is not, if we disengage from it, it suddenly disappears and returns to it's state of unformed potentiality. Dementors on the other hand have form and substance and sustain themselves by feeding on the emotional energy of humans--in particular the positive energy of joy and happiness. Similarly, our own negative thoughts can become so real, and gather so much energy, that they can completely drain away any sense of happiness, peace, joy, and hope even though in truth, these are accessible to us--we simply begin to believe they are not, and therefore, they are not.
The other day I watched the movie After Earth starring Will Smith as Cypher Raige and his son Jaden Smith as Cypher's son, Kitai. The movie did not get good reviews, so I wasn't expecting it to offer much. Once again I wonder at the lack of insight of so many of our loud-mouthed reviewers. It may not be the movie of the year, but it is a lovely little gem. As one more discerning reviewer noted: "This movie is a fable. Fables teach."
There are a number of ideas woven into the story, but the predominant one is about Cypher's quote above...that fear is not real. The monster in the movie is an Ursa, a blind predator that can only track its human prey by smelling the pheromones humans give off when they are afraid. The only way a human will be able to escape or defeat an Ursa once its found him is if he is successful in disengaging from his fear. Once again, I see deeper than the monster raging about the screen and the terrified young man scrambling to save his life...and I see the toxic creations in my own life sculpted from the clay of my own fearful beliefs.
It reminds me of a Native American story I read of how it is that the "medicine" (life energy) of Rabbit became Fear... In some Native American traditions Rabbit became known as the Fear Caller. ...He goes out and shouts, "Eagle, I am so afraid of you." If Eagle doesn't hear him, Rabbit calls louder, "Eagle, stay away from me! Do you hear me? Don't eat me! Eagle, do you hear? I'm talkin' to you, Eagle!" Eagle, now hearing Rabbit, comes and eats him. Rabbit calls bobcats, wolves, coyotes, and even snakes until they come. We can learn from the rabbit that if we are always afraid of something then we may draw/create the very experience we are afraid of into our lives. Fear sends out a certain vibrational energy that may attract the very thing we fear. Fearful thoughts reproduce (like rabbits) and manifest what we fear.
In the movie Cypher tells his son the story of how he became fearless and therefore inaccessible to the Ursas. "We are all telling ourselves a story and that day mine changed." I too am changing my story. Boggarts, I laugh at your ridiculous charade. Be gone. Dementors, the one energy that is toxic to you is the energy of pure love: and so I practice becoming Grace; I practice love. Ursus...well, isn't it strange, I have become invisible to you. I am free.
And the Lady climbed upon the back of her Tiger and they ran upon the land, and they ran upon the clouds, and they ran all the way to the Stars...
Fear Is Not Real
"Fear is not real. The only place that fear can exist is in our thoughts of the future. It is a product of our imagination, causing us to fear things that do not at present and may not ever exist. That is near insanity. Do not misunderstand, danger is very real, but fear is a choice."
--from Cypher Raige in the movie "After Earth"--
I was asked recently what lesson, or idea seems to keep coming up for me--one I haven't mastered or moved through or achieved as yet. I didn't have to think very long or very hard.
"Fear," I said.
I know I am not alone in this one. Most of the human population is radiating a frequency of fear.
The way I learn best is through story. I am so grateful to the great storytellers who are making it possible for us to wake up from our deep slumbers and take back our lives. The Wachowski's The Matrix... that one comes to mind over and over as I observe the world around me--too many people still choosing the illusions that allow them to dream their lives away asleep; others waking up with a Roar, spitting out the amniotic fluids that held them in suspended animation.
J.K. Rowling's Boggarts from the world of the Harry Potter series are a favorite of mine, as are her Dementors, both such rich examples of how our own thoughts and beliefs, our perception of reality, creates how we experience reality. Boggarts are strange little creatures, harmless except for their ability to morph into what we most fear--and gain more substance and power in direct proportion to the intensity of our fear. If we believe it is real, it is. If we believe it is not, if we disengage from it, it suddenly disappears and returns to it's state of unformed potentiality. Dementors on the other hand have form and substance and sustain themselves by feeding on the emotional energy of humans--in particular the positive energy of joy and happiness. Similarly, our own negative thoughts can become so real, and gather so much energy, that they can completely drain away any sense of happiness, peace, joy, and hope even though in truth, these are accessible to us--we simply begin to believe they are not, and therefore, they are not.
The other day I watched the movie After Earth starring Will Smith as Cypher Raige and his son Jaden Smith as Cypher's son, Kitai. The movie did not get good reviews, so I wasn't expecting it to offer much. Once again I wonder at the lack of insight of so many of our loud-mouthed reviewers. It may not be the movie of the year, but it is a lovely little gem. As one more discerning reviewer noted: "This movie is a fable. Fables teach."
There are a number of ideas woven into the story, but the predominant one is about Cypher's quote above...that fear is not real. The monster in the movie is an Ursa, a blind predator that can only track its human prey by smelling the pheromones humans give off when they are afraid. The only way a human will be able to escape or defeat an Ursa once its found him is if he is successful in disengaging from his fear. Once again, I see deeper than the monster raging about the screen and the terrified young man scrambling to save his life...and I see the toxic creations in my own life sculpted from the clay of my own fearful beliefs.
It reminds me of a Native American story I read of how it is that the "medicine" (life energy) of Rabbit became Fear... In some Native American traditions Rabbit became known as the Fear Caller. ...He goes out and shouts, "Eagle, I am so afraid of you." If Eagle doesn't hear him, Rabbit calls louder, "Eagle, stay away from me! Do you hear me? Don't eat me! Eagle, do you hear? I'm talkin' to you, Eagle!" Eagle, now hearing Rabbit, comes and eats him. Rabbit calls bobcats, wolves, coyotes, and even snakes until they come. We can learn from the rabbit that if we are always afraid of something then we may draw/create the very experience we are afraid of into our lives. Fear sends out a certain vibrational energy that may attract the very thing we fear. Fearful thoughts reproduce (like rabbits) and manifest what we fear.
In the movie Cypher tells his son the story of how he became fearless and therefore inaccessible to the Ursas. "We are all telling ourselves a story and that day mine changed." I too am changing my story. Boggarts, I laugh at your ridiculous charade. Be gone. Dementors, the one energy that is toxic to you is the energy of pure love: and so I practice becoming Grace; I practice love. Ursus...well, isn't it strange, I have become invisible to you. I am free.
And the Lady climbed upon the back of her Tiger and they ran upon the land, and they ran upon the clouds, and they ran all the way to the Stars...
Monday, April 7, 2014
FIGHTING GOBLINS AND RESCUING PRINCESSES
April 7, 2014
FIGHTING GOBLINS WITH SUPERHERO MORGAN
I walked with three-year old Morgan, soon to be four, the three blocks to the little playground next to a neighborhood ball park. We looked for daffodils growing up beside the houses and talked of birds and worms, the dietary habits of squirrels and why the rain makes the grass turn green. We tried a short cut through the tennis court, but the gate was locked, so we took the other short cut through the alley.
"What's an alley, Nonna?"
"It's a little road behind the back yards of the houses. See? We're walking down an alley." We heard a rooster defending his territory.
"Nonna, what's that sound?"
"A rooster."
"Is a rooster a daddy chicken or a mommy chicken, Nonna?"
We arrived at the Park. Morgan ran for the largest layout of blue and green and orange equipment that included platform stairs, a tunnel, a swinging bridge, a curved stair ladder, a lookout post and a 10' tunnel slide. He scampered up to the lookout post before I could even catch up and hurled himself down the slide...and did a full body face plant into the mud at the bottom.
You know how one of the funniest not-funny sights is someone slipping on the ice? The next funniest not-funny sights is a little boy covered in mud--face, belly, hands, knees--just after a half-flip belly flop face-plant off a slide. Morgan looked about to cry and much to my shame, I burst out laughing. He looked at me in confusion. His brain was registering tragedy and calling for tears, but his Nonna was having a complete giggle melt down. Tragedy lost to Giggles and soon we were both laughing while he spit out mud and wood chip fibers and I brushed what dirt I could off his nose and chin and hands.
He actually looks pretty clean here; we've removed most of the mud...but he's still working on spitting out the mouthful of grit he got...
"Nonna, the Bad Guys are hewr. They pushed me down the slide. We bettow find ow fighting sowrds 'cause we need to fight bad guys."
"What kind of bad guys?"
"Zombies." He looked around. "No! Theys Goblins! Theys the wust kind!"
He grabbed a stick sword, I grabbed a stick wand. I said my wand could get more goblins. He said, "Ok, Nonna. You can use a wand this time. ...Oh no! Hewre they come Nonna!"
We fought Goblins. It was quite a noisy battle.
"Nonna! We have to wescue the pwincess!" He took off to climb the stairs and cross the swinging bridge and climb up the roundy ladder... "You fight the goblins, Nonna, so I can wescue the pwincess!"
The tower was breached successfully. "Hurry, Morgan! Grab the Princess! Where are we taking her?"
"To that bench oveer thewr!"
"Is that where she lives?"
"No, she's fwom Cavelot. But we can make hewr safe thewr on the bench and fix hewr ouchies. That's the hospital, Nonna."
"Ok. You better pick her up and carry her over your shoulder."
"Ok, Nonna. ...Whew...weew safe now. You fix hewr ouchies with yous wand, Nonna. She's a beautiful pwincess, Nonna. Do you think she's vewy pwetty, Nonna?"
"Oh, definitely, Morgan. She's very pretty."
"...Oh-oh, Nonna. Hewr come mowr Goblins! Mowr and mowr and mowr and mowr...Fight Nonna!"
"Morgan, I think they captured another princess! I think they turned her into a bird!"
"Yous wight, Nonna! Only she's not a biwrd. She's a winosowus. The Goblins changed her into a winosowus."
"Oh no! We've got to get her out of here! You better kiss her, Morgan, turn her back into a beautiful Princess! But be careful of her horn!
"Nonna, I'm not Mowgan. I'm a Pwince. I'm a Supeohewo Pwince! And I can't kiss the winosowus pwincess."
"Why can't you kiss the princess, Prince Superhero?"
"'Cause I'll get make-up on my face!"
"So who's going to turn her back into a Princess? You don't want her to be stuck being a rhinoceros, do you?"
"Nonna, you can do it with yous wand!"
"Oh."
"Ok. I will cawwy hewr over to the bench...I mean the hospital."
"Prince Superhero, where do the Princesses live? Should we take them home?"
"Yeah. They live with the King in Afwica. We can fly in the aiwplane to Afwica. But you have to fight off the Goblins while I cawwy the pwincesses, okay Nonna?"
"Ok Prince Superhero."
"Yay! We made it Nonna! You got the Goblins! Now we need to fly the beautiful Pwincesses to Afwica!"
"Nonna, quick, we got to take the Pwincesses to the King before more Goblins get us! Huwwy, Nonna. Theys coming...the Goblins aw coming! Mowr and mowr and mowr..."
"Prince Superhero, let's get back to our plane and fly somewhere else!"
"Okay, Nonna. We's going to Austwaila, now. To visit the Kangawoos. I don't know if theys Goblins thewr. See Nonna? Thewrs the Kangawoos! We'll land the aiwplane by the Kangawoos."
"Nonna, the Kangawoos can talk. They's Mommy Kangawoos with theys babies in theys pockets and Daddy Kangawoos--theys have babies in theys pockets too."
And so we had a lovely conversation with the Kangaroos of Australia and discovered that they were also under Goblin attack. Soon we were fighting more Goblins and discovered that they had captured several Princesses that needed rescuing. Six princesses to be exact. According to the Little Prince they were all from the Star Planet Shada Zuken Sak. We rescued them...and just barely making our escape from the evil and ever present Goblins, the Prince and I flew them in our airplane out beyond the Moon and past the Sun until we came to the Star Planet Shada Zuken Sak.
Upon our arrival, the Little Prince made a mad dash for the castle carrying six pretty princesses on his strong shoulders while his brave Nonna fought off a horde of Goblins. Apparently the entire Universe is suffering from an infestation of Goblins--there is no escaping them.
He was successful...suffering only a broken arm
in the battle.
All six princesses survived and were very happy to be home again.
Nonna was called upon to do some magic with her wand to try to make the broken arm of the Prince better--but her wand broke before the spell was cast.
"Nonna, you will have to take me to the dentist to get my awm fixed cause yous wand is bwoken."
"I see. Where is the dentist?"
"Can't you see, Nonna? Ovew thewr!"
"Ah, yes. Under the slide."
"But you have to get a new wand, Nonna, 'cause theys a lot of Goblins coming."
"Okay. Let's make a run for it, Prince!"
"Good job, Nonna. You got the Goblins and fixed my awm."
"I think we need to fly in our airplane back to Earth, now Prince. Daddy and Mommy are waiting for us to come home."
"Okay. But aftew we fly home we have to take the twain."
"Okay."
One airplane flight, two more Goblin battles, one train ride, and then a narrow escape from another horde of Goblins later...we were headed out of the park."
"Nonna, I think more Goblins are going to follow me and gwab my feets!"
"Oh dear. You better ride on Nonna's back then...they can't get you then."
"Are we going frew the alley again, Nonna? Whewre's the wooster? Who's that guy--what's he doing? Does the wooster live in that biwrdhouse? Those are cool box gawdens. Weally--that's what my Daddy is making fo ow home? Why is it called a daffodil? Maybe we can have a tweat when we get home! I'm hungwy. Can we pway bad guys when we get home? Not Goblins, Nonna...zombies."
FIGHTING GOBLINS WITH SUPERHERO MORGAN
I walked with three-year old Morgan, soon to be four, the three blocks to the little playground next to a neighborhood ball park. We looked for daffodils growing up beside the houses and talked of birds and worms, the dietary habits of squirrels and why the rain makes the grass turn green. We tried a short cut through the tennis court, but the gate was locked, so we took the other short cut through the alley.
"What's an alley, Nonna?"
"It's a little road behind the back yards of the houses. See? We're walking down an alley." We heard a rooster defending his territory.
"Nonna, what's that sound?"
"A rooster."
"Is a rooster a daddy chicken or a mommy chicken, Nonna?"
We arrived at the Park. Morgan ran for the largest layout of blue and green and orange equipment that included platform stairs, a tunnel, a swinging bridge, a curved stair ladder, a lookout post and a 10' tunnel slide. He scampered up to the lookout post before I could even catch up and hurled himself down the slide...and did a full body face plant into the mud at the bottom.
You know how one of the funniest not-funny sights is someone slipping on the ice? The next funniest not-funny sights is a little boy covered in mud--face, belly, hands, knees--just after a half-flip belly flop face-plant off a slide. Morgan looked about to cry and much to my shame, I burst out laughing. He looked at me in confusion. His brain was registering tragedy and calling for tears, but his Nonna was having a complete giggle melt down. Tragedy lost to Giggles and soon we were both laughing while he spit out mud and wood chip fibers and I brushed what dirt I could off his nose and chin and hands.
He actually looks pretty clean here; we've removed most of the mud...but he's still working on spitting out the mouthful of grit he got...
"Nonna, the Bad Guys are hewr. They pushed me down the slide. We bettow find ow fighting sowrds 'cause we need to fight bad guys."
"What kind of bad guys?"
"Zombies." He looked around. "No! Theys Goblins! Theys the wust kind!"
He grabbed a stick sword, I grabbed a stick wand. I said my wand could get more goblins. He said, "Ok, Nonna. You can use a wand this time. ...Oh no! Hewre they come Nonna!"
We fought Goblins. It was quite a noisy battle.
"Nonna! We have to wescue the pwincess!" He took off to climb the stairs and cross the swinging bridge and climb up the roundy ladder... "You fight the goblins, Nonna, so I can wescue the pwincess!"
The tower was breached successfully. "Hurry, Morgan! Grab the Princess! Where are we taking her?"
"To that bench oveer thewr!"
"Is that where she lives?"
"No, she's fwom Cavelot. But we can make hewr safe thewr on the bench and fix hewr ouchies. That's the hospital, Nonna."
"Ok. You better pick her up and carry her over your shoulder."
"Ok, Nonna. ...Whew...weew safe now. You fix hewr ouchies with yous wand, Nonna. She's a beautiful pwincess, Nonna. Do you think she's vewy pwetty, Nonna?"
"Oh, definitely, Morgan. She's very pretty."
"...Oh-oh, Nonna. Hewr come mowr Goblins! Mowr and mowr and mowr and mowr...Fight Nonna!"
"Morgan, I think they captured another princess! I think they turned her into a bird!"
"Yous wight, Nonna! Only she's not a biwrd. She's a winosowus. The Goblins changed her into a winosowus."
"Oh no! We've got to get her out of here! You better kiss her, Morgan, turn her back into a beautiful Princess! But be careful of her horn!
"Nonna, I'm not Mowgan. I'm a Pwince. I'm a Supeohewo Pwince! And I can't kiss the winosowus pwincess."
"Why can't you kiss the princess, Prince Superhero?"
"'Cause I'll get make-up on my face!"
"So who's going to turn her back into a Princess? You don't want her to be stuck being a rhinoceros, do you?"
"Nonna, you can do it with yous wand!"
"Ok. I will cawwy hewr over to the bench...I mean the hospital."
"Prince Superhero, where do the Princesses live? Should we take them home?"
"Yeah. They live with the King in Afwica. We can fly in the aiwplane to Afwica. But you have to fight off the Goblins while I cawwy the pwincesses, okay Nonna?"
"Ok Prince Superhero."
"Yay! We made it Nonna! You got the Goblins! Now we need to fly the beautiful Pwincesses to Afwica!"
"Prince Superhero, let's get back to our plane and fly somewhere else!"
"Okay, Nonna. We's going to Austwaila, now. To visit the Kangawoos. I don't know if theys Goblins thewr. See Nonna? Thewrs the Kangawoos! We'll land the aiwplane by the Kangawoos."
"Nonna, the Kangawoos can talk. They's Mommy Kangawoos with theys babies in theys pockets and Daddy Kangawoos--theys have babies in theys pockets too."
And so we had a lovely conversation with the Kangaroos of Australia and discovered that they were also under Goblin attack. Soon we were fighting more Goblins and discovered that they had captured several Princesses that needed rescuing. Six princesses to be exact. According to the Little Prince they were all from the Star Planet Shada Zuken Sak. We rescued them...and just barely making our escape from the evil and ever present Goblins, the Prince and I flew them in our airplane out beyond the Moon and past the Sun until we came to the Star Planet Shada Zuken Sak.
Upon our arrival, the Little Prince made a mad dash for the castle carrying six pretty princesses on his strong shoulders while his brave Nonna fought off a horde of Goblins. Apparently the entire Universe is suffering from an infestation of Goblins--there is no escaping them.
He was successful...suffering only a broken armin the battle.
All six princesses survived and were very happy to be home again.
Nonna was called upon to do some magic with her wand to try to make the broken arm of the Prince better--but her wand broke before the spell was cast.
"Nonna, you will have to take me to the dentist to get my awm fixed cause yous wand is bwoken."
"I see. Where is the dentist?"
"Can't you see, Nonna? Ovew thewr!"
"Ah, yes. Under the slide."
"But you have to get a new wand, Nonna, 'cause theys a lot of Goblins coming."
"Okay. Let's make a run for it, Prince!"
"Good job, Nonna. You got the Goblins and fixed my awm."
"I think we need to fly in our airplane back to Earth, now Prince. Daddy and Mommy are waiting for us to come home."
"Okay. But aftew we fly home we have to take the twain."
"Okay."
One airplane flight, two more Goblin battles, one train ride, and then a narrow escape from another horde of Goblins later...we were headed out of the park."
"Nonna, I think more Goblins are going to follow me and gwab my feets!"
"Oh dear. You better ride on Nonna's back then...they can't get you then."
"Are we going frew the alley again, Nonna? Whewre's the wooster? Who's that guy--what's he doing? Does the wooster live in that biwrdhouse? Those are cool box gawdens. Weally--that's what my Daddy is making fo ow home? Why is it called a daffodil? Maybe we can have a tweat when we get home! I'm hungwy. Can we pway bad guys when we get home? Not Goblins, Nonna...zombies."
Thursday, April 3, 2014
RAINBOW MAKERS
March 31, 2014
RAINBOW MAKERS
"Let someone love you, just the way you are, as flawed as you might be... To believe that you must hide all the parts of you that are broken out of fear that someone else is incapable of loving what is less than perfect, is to believe that sunlight is incapable of entering a broken window and illuminating a dark room." - Marc Hack
This morning I found the quote above in my Kind Spring's weekly newsletter. I thought about it while I cleaned up the kitchen and rocked my grandbaby to sleep. As I rocked, my thoughts carried this idea down a different track... "Choose to love another, just the way he is, as flawed as he may be. To think that he must not have any rough edges, or show any broken parts because either of you fear that if he does you will feel he is unworthy of your love, your forgiveness, patience, understanding or kindness, is to believe that no one is worthy of love, including yourself, unless they are perfect.
Which is not unlike thinking that nothing is good unless it is perfect.
I have stumbled on a nasty, thorny, unwelcome weed in my inner garden. I have uncovered a brule (bullshit rule). Because though I would deny it, I realize that somewhere underneath all the shiny smears of positivity, this ancient belief with its many runner roots is still very much alive in me.
I've been dismantling old Brules (bullshit rules) that I've lived by and under based on the models that have shaped my reality. It's been quite a fascinating project, really, figuring out what some habitual reactive behavior of mine is really rooted in.
What, in my world, is this concept we call "perfect"? Who determines what constitutes perfection? Does it mean to never make a mistake? But who decides it is a mistake? A wise woman once told me that there is no such thing as a mistake--only lessons--only learning--only experiencing. Is being perfect more like what Henry Higgins suggests in My Fair Lady, "why can't [you] be like me"; think and do things the way I think and do things! Does being perfect mean we should measure up to the standards we see in the movies and media, or to measure up to the spiritual standards of our religions and of the demands of the gods and goddesses that we have created?
What does someone need to be like to be acceptable to me?
I don't know. I think it is subject to the weather and that the truth is closer to Henry Higgins' definition than any other.
My thoughts took a right turn. (Or maybe it was a left turn...) A rainbow is beautiful, but it is in truth, broken light. Imperfect Light. Flawed Light, if you care to think of it that way.
Perfect, unbroken light is "white"--pure colorless illumination. Break the light by shining it through a mist of water or a crystal and suddenly you have color...beauty...brilliance...the promise of sunshine after rain, of light pouring through the cut glass of a window or a cup, spraying rainbows across floors and walls and ceilings.
My perfect union with the Divine, perfect Light--is broken when I am poured into the prism of this human body to live a human life experiencing a physical, three dimensional universe. If I allow the Perfect Light to shine through me, I will cast rainbows over everyone and everything that moves through my space; all the attributes of the Perfect Light. If I close myself off from that Light...there is only the grey darkness, shadows.
No one is ever unworthy of love--of kindness and forgiveness. The Light simply shines, always, on everything and everyone. The Light is always there. If I am willing, the Light will shine through me, breaking apart and splashing the colors of It's nature on everyone about. If I am unwilling and choose to block the Light, the Light is still there, still shining, never retreating, never failing--but I cast only shadows.
Is this a model for living that I can build upon? Can I let go of my belief that we all must always try to be "perfect" because our deservedness of love and respect is in direct proportion to the perfection we have achieved? That is like asking ourselves and others to BE the perfect Light rather than a vessel for It's refraction in the world. That is like demanding that we be the sun, instead of the rainbow makers.
RAINBOW MAKERS
"Let someone love you, just the way you are, as flawed as you might be... To believe that you must hide all the parts of you that are broken out of fear that someone else is incapable of loving what is less than perfect, is to believe that sunlight is incapable of entering a broken window and illuminating a dark room." - Marc Hack
This morning I found the quote above in my Kind Spring's weekly newsletter. I thought about it while I cleaned up the kitchen and rocked my grandbaby to sleep. As I rocked, my thoughts carried this idea down a different track... "Choose to love another, just the way he is, as flawed as he may be. To think that he must not have any rough edges, or show any broken parts because either of you fear that if he does you will feel he is unworthy of your love, your forgiveness, patience, understanding or kindness, is to believe that no one is worthy of love, including yourself, unless they are perfect.
Which is not unlike thinking that nothing is good unless it is perfect.
I have stumbled on a nasty, thorny, unwelcome weed in my inner garden. I have uncovered a brule (bullshit rule). Because though I would deny it, I realize that somewhere underneath all the shiny smears of positivity, this ancient belief with its many runner roots is still very much alive in me.
I've been dismantling old Brules (bullshit rules) that I've lived by and under based on the models that have shaped my reality. It's been quite a fascinating project, really, figuring out what some habitual reactive behavior of mine is really rooted in.
What, in my world, is this concept we call "perfect"? Who determines what constitutes perfection? Does it mean to never make a mistake? But who decides it is a mistake? A wise woman once told me that there is no such thing as a mistake--only lessons--only learning--only experiencing. Is being perfect more like what Henry Higgins suggests in My Fair Lady, "why can't [you] be like me"; think and do things the way I think and do things! Does being perfect mean we should measure up to the standards we see in the movies and media, or to measure up to the spiritual standards of our religions and of the demands of the gods and goddesses that we have created?
What does someone need to be like to be acceptable to me?
I don't know. I think it is subject to the weather and that the truth is closer to Henry Higgins' definition than any other.
My thoughts took a right turn. (Or maybe it was a left turn...) A rainbow is beautiful, but it is in truth, broken light. Imperfect Light. Flawed Light, if you care to think of it that way.
Perfect, unbroken light is "white"--pure colorless illumination. Break the light by shining it through a mist of water or a crystal and suddenly you have color...beauty...brilliance...the promise of sunshine after rain, of light pouring through the cut glass of a window or a cup, spraying rainbows across floors and walls and ceilings.
My perfect union with the Divine, perfect Light--is broken when I am poured into the prism of this human body to live a human life experiencing a physical, three dimensional universe. If I allow the Perfect Light to shine through me, I will cast rainbows over everyone and everything that moves through my space; all the attributes of the Perfect Light. If I close myself off from that Light...there is only the grey darkness, shadows.
No one is ever unworthy of love--of kindness and forgiveness. The Light simply shines, always, on everything and everyone. The Light is always there. If I am willing, the Light will shine through me, breaking apart and splashing the colors of It's nature on everyone about. If I am unwilling and choose to block the Light, the Light is still there, still shining, never retreating, never failing--but I cast only shadows.
Is this a model for living that I can build upon? Can I let go of my belief that we all must always try to be "perfect" because our deservedness of love and respect is in direct proportion to the perfection we have achieved? That is like asking ourselves and others to BE the perfect Light rather than a vessel for It's refraction in the world. That is like demanding that we be the sun, instead of the rainbow makers.
Wednesday, April 2, 2014
MY GARDEN OF ABUNDANCE
March 29, 2014
MY GARDEN OF ABUNDANCE
I have this gift of a day to live--healthy, strong in my body and mind. I have the gift of sight to look out at the blue sky--a sheet of pale, robin's egg blue. The great Maple Tree whose skin grew as though it were a skirt twirling in a dance is silently pumping life into red buds. They are slowly swelling, gathering force. Another day I will find them busted open, dangling tiny green leaves.
As is the land here in the North, so I too am waking up--to new models of reality through which to perceive the world, to new systems of living. As in our gardens here in the North, I am clearing the winter debris--the old models, old beliefs which no longer serve me or others; discarding the Brules that have governed my life. I like this word, Brules. It means, "Bullshit rules". I also like the word Blisscipline. It sounds so much happier and more exciting than the drudgery of being disciplined!
I have long been a student of the concept that our thoughts create our beliefs and that it is these beliefs that determine our attitudes and thus our behavior patterns. To successfully change a behavior, change the belief. Simple. Never-the-less I have found change a slow and difficult process because beliefs never exist in isolation. Rather, they are part of a larger model, a more complex construct of reality that we create based on what we believe to be true about the world we live in. We all have a huge network of rules supporting entire systems that govern who we are and how we respond to our experiences based on the models, the beliefs, we have adopted. Trying to just change one or a few "nasty habits" without examining the larger picture--the whole model and the system it supports--makes it pretty tough work. It's much easier if we are willing to simply wake up and ask ourselves the important questions. And answer them, of course.
Why do I do this?
Why am I angry?
What am I afraid of?
What do I believe to be true that I feel the need to act like this?
Is this really true?
Where did this belief come from?
Is it mine?
What is the rule that I'm minding when I act like this?
Is it a healthy rule--or a brule?
Brules are Bullshit Rules that we adopt to simplify our understanding of the world. How do we know the difference between a Brule or a Rule? Ask more questions.
Is your rule based on trust and hope?
Does it serve your happiness?
Does it violate the Golden Rule?
Does it come from cultural or religious systems/models?
Does it come from rational choice or social conditioning?
Early this past winter I read a quote a friend had posted that became a pivotal moment for me: I choose to let go of all that does not serve me, anything that prevents me from thriving. I considered this deeply and realized there were a number of situations in my life that definitely did not serve me nor allow me to thrive, and thus prevented me from serving my family and community better that they also might thrive. Since learning about brules, I realize that I have perpetuated these situations because, after all, one must make the best of life and gain never comes without pain and it's the cards I've been dealt and don't complain and be glad for all the lessons that your suffering is teaching you and...what a load of bullshit! All I need to do is look around at nature to see that the Creator made everything to work in balance so that all might thrive! We're the ones who screw it up and cause suffering!
Little green things are poking up above the earth in my garden; perennials planted there once upon a time. Year after year, they return, like beliefs that I adopted long ago that call forth the same responses from me, time and again. I am digging them up and moving them somewhere else...some even to the compost heap. I am re-creating my entire garden. I am disgarding the Brules I've lived by and creating enhanced, healthier, happier models and systems for living my life--my one, wild and precious life.
I embrace this work with joy, considering it a privilege; procrastination and stagnation give way to productivity. I get to dig about in my newly awakened garden! I get to create something new! I get to grow my garden into a work of art and I get to receive from it an abundant harvest. As my inner and my outer gardens have become labors of love and gratitude, every stage has become rewarding. The garden thrives and I thrive and all who experience the blessing of it, thrive.
Once there was a woman jogging down my street. She looked unhappy, angry, tense. As she ran past my little front yard garden the sound of water falling into the rock pond must have caught her attention for without breaking stride she glanced over, and her face relaxed into a wide smile. She never noticed me sitting on my porch, only the flowers. As I watched her continue down the block, I noticed her head was higher, her shoulders back.
How much greater might the impact of my inner garden be on those who pass through my sphere of influence? I will not limit myself. I will not allow the weedy beliefs of "can't" nor the fears of what it might "cost" me to choke out the life of the Creator within me. I'm cultivating joy and gratitude--like the daffodils and lilies and roses that I love. I'm nurturing and growing the gifts I brought to this world so that I can share them--my writing, my art, my ability to teach; like green beans and ripened tomatoes and summer squash and apples in autumn. I'm practicing kindness--random acts of...they are herbs to season life.
I found a penny on the sidewalk today. "Find a penny, pick it up and all day long you'll have good luck!" Ahh, yes. In the middle of my Garden of Abundance I plant a Money Tree so that I will no longer be limited by the lack of money. I am rebuilding my model of what it means to live abundantly, without lack, creating a life in which I am thriving.
MY GARDEN OF ABUNDANCE
I have this gift of a day to live--healthy, strong in my body and mind. I have the gift of sight to look out at the blue sky--a sheet of pale, robin's egg blue. The great Maple Tree whose skin grew as though it were a skirt twirling in a dance is silently pumping life into red buds. They are slowly swelling, gathering force. Another day I will find them busted open, dangling tiny green leaves.
As is the land here in the North, so I too am waking up--to new models of reality through which to perceive the world, to new systems of living. As in our gardens here in the North, I am clearing the winter debris--the old models, old beliefs which no longer serve me or others; discarding the Brules that have governed my life. I like this word, Brules. It means, "Bullshit rules". I also like the word Blisscipline. It sounds so much happier and more exciting than the drudgery of being disciplined!
I have long been a student of the concept that our thoughts create our beliefs and that it is these beliefs that determine our attitudes and thus our behavior patterns. To successfully change a behavior, change the belief. Simple. Never-the-less I have found change a slow and difficult process because beliefs never exist in isolation. Rather, they are part of a larger model, a more complex construct of reality that we create based on what we believe to be true about the world we live in. We all have a huge network of rules supporting entire systems that govern who we are and how we respond to our experiences based on the models, the beliefs, we have adopted. Trying to just change one or a few "nasty habits" without examining the larger picture--the whole model and the system it supports--makes it pretty tough work. It's much easier if we are willing to simply wake up and ask ourselves the important questions. And answer them, of course.
Why do I do this?
Why am I angry?
What am I afraid of?
What do I believe to be true that I feel the need to act like this?
Is this really true?
Where did this belief come from?
Is it mine?
What is the rule that I'm minding when I act like this?
Is it a healthy rule--or a brule?
Brules are Bullshit Rules that we adopt to simplify our understanding of the world. How do we know the difference between a Brule or a Rule? Ask more questions.
Is your rule based on trust and hope?
Does it serve your happiness?
Does it violate the Golden Rule?
Does it come from cultural or religious systems/models?
Does it come from rational choice or social conditioning?
Early this past winter I read a quote a friend had posted that became a pivotal moment for me: I choose to let go of all that does not serve me, anything that prevents me from thriving. I considered this deeply and realized there were a number of situations in my life that definitely did not serve me nor allow me to thrive, and thus prevented me from serving my family and community better that they also might thrive. Since learning about brules, I realize that I have perpetuated these situations because, after all, one must make the best of life and gain never comes without pain and it's the cards I've been dealt and don't complain and be glad for all the lessons that your suffering is teaching you and...what a load of bullshit! All I need to do is look around at nature to see that the Creator made everything to work in balance so that all might thrive! We're the ones who screw it up and cause suffering!
Little green things are poking up above the earth in my garden; perennials planted there once upon a time. Year after year, they return, like beliefs that I adopted long ago that call forth the same responses from me, time and again. I am digging them up and moving them somewhere else...some even to the compost heap. I am re-creating my entire garden. I am disgarding the Brules I've lived by and creating enhanced, healthier, happier models and systems for living my life--my one, wild and precious life.
I embrace this work with joy, considering it a privilege; procrastination and stagnation give way to productivity. I get to dig about in my newly awakened garden! I get to create something new! I get to grow my garden into a work of art and I get to receive from it an abundant harvest. As my inner and my outer gardens have become labors of love and gratitude, every stage has become rewarding. The garden thrives and I thrive and all who experience the blessing of it, thrive.
Once there was a woman jogging down my street. She looked unhappy, angry, tense. As she ran past my little front yard garden the sound of water falling into the rock pond must have caught her attention for without breaking stride she glanced over, and her face relaxed into a wide smile. She never noticed me sitting on my porch, only the flowers. As I watched her continue down the block, I noticed her head was higher, her shoulders back.
How much greater might the impact of my inner garden be on those who pass through my sphere of influence? I will not limit myself. I will not allow the weedy beliefs of "can't" nor the fears of what it might "cost" me to choke out the life of the Creator within me. I'm cultivating joy and gratitude--like the daffodils and lilies and roses that I love. I'm nurturing and growing the gifts I brought to this world so that I can share them--my writing, my art, my ability to teach; like green beans and ripened tomatoes and summer squash and apples in autumn. I'm practicing kindness--random acts of...they are herbs to season life.
I found a penny on the sidewalk today. "Find a penny, pick it up and all day long you'll have good luck!" Ahh, yes. In the middle of my Garden of Abundance I plant a Money Tree so that I will no longer be limited by the lack of money. I am rebuilding my model of what it means to live abundantly, without lack, creating a life in which I am thriving.
Saturday, March 15, 2014
CHANGE YOUR FREQUENCY, CHANGE YOUR REALITY
March 12, 2014
A GRUMPY CATERPILLAR GETS HER WINGS
I listened to an interesting presentation this morning about why we find ourselves "stuck" perpetuating situations that we don't like, don't want, and sometimes have even worked very hard to change. For every step forward, there seems to be at least a half-step slide back; sometimes a full scale tumble back to the bottom.
The other morning I found myself spouting self-criticisms at myself and accusations at my partner that I thought were dead, buried and decomposed. But here they were, back from the dead, maybe not exactly in kick-ass form, but definitely alive in a mouldery sort of way.
"Where the hell did that come from? Do I really believe what I'm thinking and saying and feeling," I thought?
I went for a long walk in the sunshiny, melty day...the warmest day we've had since sometime before Thanksgiving. First I told Jack to cool his jets. He's a Tiger. He's the form my Ego has taken in order for my story-oriented brain to be able to wrap itself around the existential questions and concepts I find so fascinating. Jack haruffed about a bit, then curled up in a corner, apparently asleep. Except I don't think Tigers ever really sleep.
My mind clearer, I did something radically different than I usually do when my heart feels full of lead and the lump in my throat is damming up my tears. I gave thanks. I gave thanks for the difficult day and my heavy heart and for the morning's difficult conversation and all the unanswered questions and all my disappointed desires. I figured there was a lesson in here somewhere and that maybe paying attention and opening up to the lesson with gratitude would make a difference.
By the time I arrived back home after wading through the woods where a large herd of deer make their home, I could sense that something was coming into focus. My heart still felt heavy and tired, but I reminded myself that it would pass and I would understand things better later. With that I sat down and finished a script and then went and met a friend. Later I worked on the script notes and finished up my day with a conference call. By bedtime I was too tired to think much about what I felt like.
The next morning the sun leapt up and commenced his climb to the top of the sky. The night seemed to have dissolved my troubles; I too felt like climbing to the top of the sky. Looking back now I realize that my difficult day was evidence that my very intention to become kinder, softer, happier and more connected with my partner had dislodged more of the debris that is in the way. It had indeed not been a day of sliding back into old patterns, but a day of undoing old patterns. The fine line between was crossed when I sent Jack the Great Defender to the corner and opened myself to understanding and gave thanks.
The presentation this morning was by Christie Marie Sheldon on How To Change Your Frequency To Change Your Reality. She talked about what happens in our energy field when we get stuck in a negative pattern--whether that is in relationships, our health, our economic experiences or just our 'dumb luck'. What happens is that our cycle of thought-creating beliefs perpetuate the vibrational frequency that we emit into the space around us. Because like attracts like, we draw to ourselves more of whatever we are thinking, focused upon, speaking, and most especially, the vibrational frequency we are emitting as a result. We can guess well what this frequency is by our emotional state, as well as our knee-jerk trigger reactions in certain situations.
Briefly, each level of consciousness (LOC) coincides with determinable human behaviors and perceptions about life. Each level represents a corresponding attractor field of varying strength that exists beyond our three-dimensional reality. There’s a critical point within each LOC from which its field gravitates (or entrains). The numbers on the scale represent logarithmic calibrations (measurable vibratory frequencies on a scale which increases to the tenth power) of the levels of human consciousness and its corresponding level of reality. The numbers themselves are arbitrary; the significance lies in the relationship of one number (or level) to another (e.g., Dr. Hawkins’ scale is from 1 to 1000).
It has been a long road. It has taken me a long time to clear the old frequencies of shame and guilt, grief, fear. In reading further about Dr. Hawkins work, (I'm going to get his book!) I read what I already suspected: few of us are static in one place on this scale. We operate at different levels based on our past experiences and operative beliefs about those experiences. I can see that because of the work I have done to shift my thinking, my beliefs and consequently my attitudes, I have crossed that threshold into courage and willingness and acceptance. Sometimes I even operate for a few minutes up in those wonderful levels that radiate love and joy. But I am aware of the drag on my progress and certain situations can send me into a free-fall down into the dark depths again of shame, guilt, and fear.
I am blessed to have a chiropractor who practices Applied Kinesiology and has done emotional clearings with me related to these low vibrational frequencies. I have been blessed to have been allowed so many amazing experiences in my life that have helped me re-create my life while slowly learning what it means to shift how I think, what I think, how I view mySelf and this world and the greater Universe--how I view this Holy Presence, this Creator, this Source that I have called "God".
I am very, very grateful for the many lessons I have been allowed, the Grace that has buffered me, the Love that has held me even when I had no idea I was being held, no idea that I was loved. During my life as a grumpy caterpillar all I could see was the muddy ground and all I could do was keep crawling along looking for "food". I gazed enviously at the beautiful winged creatures, wishing I could do what they did, wishing I could fly away. Then came the season when I got shut up inside a funky space in my life and all I knew dissolved into a smelly soup. Then one morning as the sun climbed to the top of the sky my closed up little world split open top to bottom spilling me out. For a long pause I clung to the branch on which I found myself--something about it was familiar. But I have come to understand just enough that now there is nothing for it but to spread my wings--my glorious butterfly wings, and take to the skies! I have this song running through my head...I wish I could sing it for you..."Oh joy, oh joy
Oh-oh-oh-oh-oh joy; I thought love was blind, I opened my eyes, now it’s all that I see. My tears are washed clean from all I’ve been through in that holy stream, the beautiful stream of the joy that is you..." The Joy That Is You
The secret I have learned is that although we may think we are stuck, we aren't. We are never stuck. As long as we draw breath in this body we are called to journey upwards to living lives from the heart, lives of courage and humility, of gratitude and forgiveness, of love and of joy. We are called to pilgrimage, to leave the comfort zones of the illusions we've bought and sold, to become the hero of our own story and experience transformation from frogs to kings--from paupers to princes--from grumpy caterpillars to beautiful fairy butterflies.
A GRUMPY CATERPILLAR GETS HER WINGS
I listened to an interesting presentation this morning about why we find ourselves "stuck" perpetuating situations that we don't like, don't want, and sometimes have even worked very hard to change. For every step forward, there seems to be at least a half-step slide back; sometimes a full scale tumble back to the bottom.
The other morning I found myself spouting self-criticisms at myself and accusations at my partner that I thought were dead, buried and decomposed. But here they were, back from the dead, maybe not exactly in kick-ass form, but definitely alive in a mouldery sort of way.
"Where the hell did that come from? Do I really believe what I'm thinking and saying and feeling," I thought?
I went for a long walk in the sunshiny, melty day...the warmest day we've had since sometime before Thanksgiving. First I told Jack to cool his jets. He's a Tiger. He's the form my Ego has taken in order for my story-oriented brain to be able to wrap itself around the existential questions and concepts I find so fascinating. Jack haruffed about a bit, then curled up in a corner, apparently asleep. Except I don't think Tigers ever really sleep.
My mind clearer, I did something radically different than I usually do when my heart feels full of lead and the lump in my throat is damming up my tears. I gave thanks. I gave thanks for the difficult day and my heavy heart and for the morning's difficult conversation and all the unanswered questions and all my disappointed desires. I figured there was a lesson in here somewhere and that maybe paying attention and opening up to the lesson with gratitude would make a difference.
By the time I arrived back home after wading through the woods where a large herd of deer make their home, I could sense that something was coming into focus. My heart still felt heavy and tired, but I reminded myself that it would pass and I would understand things better later. With that I sat down and finished a script and then went and met a friend. Later I worked on the script notes and finished up my day with a conference call. By bedtime I was too tired to think much about what I felt like.
The next morning the sun leapt up and commenced his climb to the top of the sky. The night seemed to have dissolved my troubles; I too felt like climbing to the top of the sky. Looking back now I realize that my difficult day was evidence that my very intention to become kinder, softer, happier and more connected with my partner had dislodged more of the debris that is in the way. It had indeed not been a day of sliding back into old patterns, but a day of undoing old patterns. The fine line between was crossed when I sent Jack the Great Defender to the corner and opened myself to understanding and gave thanks.
The presentation this morning was by Christie Marie Sheldon on How To Change Your Frequency To Change Your Reality. She talked about what happens in our energy field when we get stuck in a negative pattern--whether that is in relationships, our health, our economic experiences or just our 'dumb luck'. What happens is that our cycle of thought-creating beliefs perpetuate the vibrational frequency that we emit into the space around us. Because like attracts like, we draw to ourselves more of whatever we are thinking, focused upon, speaking, and most especially, the vibrational frequency we are emitting as a result. We can guess well what this frequency is by our emotional state, as well as our knee-jerk trigger reactions in certain situations.
Ms. Sheldon shared a chart called The Map of Consciousness based on the work of David R. Hawkins M.D. Ph.D. author of Power vs. Force (Revised Edition): The Hidden Determinants of Human BehaviorPower vs. Force (Revised Edition); The Hidden Determinants of Human Behavior
The Map (or Scale) of Consciousness is a numerical scale whereby one can measure
positive from negative, power from force and truth from falsehood. Dr.
Hawkins believes that every word, every thought, and every intention
creates what is called a morphogenetic field, or attractor field, and
that these energy fields can be measured through the process of Applied Kinesiology. The research
was scientifically-validated and published in Dr. Hawkins’ doctorate
dissertation titled Qualitative and Quantitative Analysis and
Calibrations of the Level of Human Consciousness. His book, Power vs.
Force (Revised Edition): The Hidden Determinants of Human Behavior (Hay House, 2012) explained
how world leaders throughout history led based on what level
they were at on the Map of Consciousness. Lower levels like fear, lead the world into chaos.
Briefly, each level of consciousness (LOC) coincides with determinable human behaviors and perceptions about life. Each level represents a corresponding attractor field of varying strength that exists beyond our three-dimensional reality. There’s a critical point within each LOC from which its field gravitates (or entrains). The numbers on the scale represent logarithmic calibrations (measurable vibratory frequencies on a scale which increases to the tenth power) of the levels of human consciousness and its corresponding level of reality. The numbers themselves are arbitrary; the significance lies in the relationship of one number (or level) to another (e.g., Dr. Hawkins’ scale is from 1 to 1000).
As
I listened to Ms. Sheldon's presentation, I reflected again on the
incident the other day. I can see the pattern, if a bit faded. The
grooves in my psyche are deep and like ruts in a road, if I allow the
tire to slip in, it's pretty certain I will once again be bumping down
the road in that tiresome old rut. Shame, guilt, fear--my old
companions. Bottom of the damn scale! Ms. Sheldon made the comment
that of the people she works with, those who take the longest to clear
old frequencies and shift their energy to higher frequencies are those
whose thought patterns have been entrenched--entrained--with the
corresponding frequencies of shame and guilt.
MAP OF THE SCALE OF CONSCIOUSNESS
God-view
Self-view Level
Log Emotion
Process
Self
Is Enlightenment
700 – 1,000
Ineffable Pure
Consciousness
All-being
Perfect Peace
600
Bliss
Illumination
One
Complete Joy
540
Serenity
Transfiguration
Loving
Benign Love
500
Reverence
Revelation
Wise
Meaningful Reason
400
Understanding Abstraction
Merciful
Harmonious Acceptance
350
Forgiveness Transcendence
Inspiring
Hopeful Willingness
310
Optimism Intention
Enabling
Satisfactory Neutrality
250
Trust
Release
Permitting
Feasible Courage
200
Affirmation
Empowerment
LEVELS OF
TRUTH
LEVELS OF
FALSEHOOD
Indifferent
Demanding Pride
175
Scorn
Inflation
Vengeful
Antagonistic Anger
150
Hate
Aggression
Denying
Disappointing Desire
125
Craving
Enslavement
Punitive
Frightening Fear
100
Anxiety
Withdrawal
Uncaring
Tragic
Grief
75
Regret
Despondency
Condem-
Hopeless Apathy,
hatred 50
Despair
Abdication
ning
ning
Vindictive
Evil
Guilt
30
Blame
Destruction
Despising
Hateful
Shame
20
Humiliation Elimination
It has been a long road. It has taken me a long time to clear the old frequencies of shame and guilt, grief, fear. In reading further about Dr. Hawkins work, (I'm going to get his book!) I read what I already suspected: few of us are static in one place on this scale. We operate at different levels based on our past experiences and operative beliefs about those experiences. I can see that because of the work I have done to shift my thinking, my beliefs and consequently my attitudes, I have crossed that threshold into courage and willingness and acceptance. Sometimes I even operate for a few minutes up in those wonderful levels that radiate love and joy. But I am aware of the drag on my progress and certain situations can send me into a free-fall down into the dark depths again of shame, guilt, and fear.
I am blessed to have a chiropractor who practices Applied Kinesiology and has done emotional clearings with me related to these low vibrational frequencies. I have been blessed to have been allowed so many amazing experiences in my life that have helped me re-create my life while slowly learning what it means to shift how I think, what I think, how I view mySelf and this world and the greater Universe--how I view this Holy Presence, this Creator, this Source that I have called "God".
I am very, very grateful for the many lessons I have been allowed, the Grace that has buffered me, the Love that has held me even when I had no idea I was being held, no idea that I was loved. During my life as a grumpy caterpillar all I could see was the muddy ground and all I could do was keep crawling along looking for "food". I gazed enviously at the beautiful winged creatures, wishing I could do what they did, wishing I could fly away. Then came the season when I got shut up inside a funky space in my life and all I knew dissolved into a smelly soup. Then one morning as the sun climbed to the top of the sky my closed up little world split open top to bottom spilling me out. For a long pause I clung to the branch on which I found myself--something about it was familiar. But I have come to understand just enough that now there is nothing for it but to spread my wings--my glorious butterfly wings, and take to the skies! I have this song running through my head...I wish I could sing it for you..."Oh joy, oh joy
Oh-oh-oh-oh-oh joy; I thought love was blind, I opened my eyes, now it’s all that I see. My tears are washed clean from all I’ve been through in that holy stream, the beautiful stream of the joy that is you..." The Joy That Is You
The secret I have learned is that although we may think we are stuck, we aren't. We are never stuck. As long as we draw breath in this body we are called to journey upwards to living lives from the heart, lives of courage and humility, of gratitude and forgiveness, of love and of joy. We are called to pilgrimage, to leave the comfort zones of the illusions we've bought and sold, to become the hero of our own story and experience transformation from frogs to kings--from paupers to princes--from grumpy caterpillars to beautiful fairy butterflies.
Monday, March 3, 2014
ADVENTURES IN NEW YORK CITY IX
February 25, 2014
ADVENTURES IN NEW YORK CITY
The Boy In The Subway
The boy is sitting at the end of the subway car. He wears a coat with a ragged hem, a dirty
knit cap and a sign: Down on my luck
Please Help. He carries a banged up drink
cup in which a few coins clink. No
gloves. It is 29 degrees Fahrenheit.
Stepping into the late night train, my friends and I grab
hold of the center pole between the doors.
I set my 45-pound pack on the floor at my feet, groaning, flexing my
shoulders. My friend chats with the man
from the show we’ve just seen. We are
flushed with a good time, sweet drinks, good food, and a brisk walk.
As the train jerks into motion, the boy stands up and ghosts
through the car—hoping. I keep my eyes
on my friend. I think she is talking
about a scene from the show. Or maybe
where she lives in Queens, a lovely two-bedroom apartment full of light and
comfort. I want to give something to the
boy; to look into his tired face and into his dull, brown eyes and say, “Hello;” effectively
saying—“I see you. You exist. I honor the light in you as another human
like myself.”
Maybe he hears my thoughts.
I look steadily into the face of the man from the show and answer his
question as the boy pauses at the end of the car. And then I feel him ghosting back through the
car, passing behind me, brushing softly against my clean, bright blue North Face
jacket.
I slide my eyes to the side and watch him slump back into
his seat at the end of the car. He
sighs. His hands scrub his face and then
hold his head up as his elbows come to rest against his knees poking through
his torn, crusty jeans.
I can feel the single dollar bills burning in my pocket. My
heart jumps about like my dog when she wants to go for a walk.
The advice I’ve been given from my New York friends replays
in my head:
“Just ignore them. So
many of them are just scamming…” But, how
do we tell the difference?
“I work hard for my money.
They don’t choose to. That’s
their choice. There’re plenty of jobs in this city. They could get one if they wanted to.” “But,
maybe they haven’t the skills, or the opportunities, or the strength or the
courage or the know-how to navigate this crazy system like we do?
“You have to be careful.
I mean, every day you run into these people—you get used to it. You can’t help them all.” But
surely, we could acknowledge them? Or we
could give some change to a few every day, the change from dropping dollars
into the cashier’s hand at the lunch counter?
The presence of these dirty, raggedy, brothers and sisters
of ours dredge up shame in us…robbing us of the pleasure of our blessings—accusatory
as we gather our comfort and privilege like a walled fortress around us.
I brightly engage in the conversation with my friends,
hearing not a word I will recall. The
boy, I will remember. I leave the train
without a backward glance while tears burn behind my eyes.
ADVENTURES IN NEW YORK CITY VIII
February 25, 2014
ADVENTURES IN NEW YORK CITY
The 9-11 Memorial
Looking up I see a triangular building of glass stretching
above all the others, its pointy tower trying to prick the clouds. “That’s the Freedom Tower,” says my
friend. Officially known as One World
Trade Center, it is now the tallest building in the western hemisphere, fourth
tallest in the world, soaring 1,776 feet above the pools where once the Twin
Towers stood. It grew out of the debris
of Tower 6. Tower 6? Just an insignificant 8-story building
damaged in the 9-11 attacks and later demolished to make way for the
reconstruction of the current One World Trade Center.
We join the bunches of people being directed to line up and
walk soberly between the ropes that guide us behind the plastic curtains out of
sight of the hurrying pedestrians. We
offer our donations and wind our way down the sidewalk and through security. Just like the airports. Bags in bins, coats in bins, phones and
cameras and computers in bins. Really?
We are this afraid?
Huge signs tell us to be quiet; this is a sacred sight. There—the two pools where once the Twin
Towers stood. Here—a pear tree
struggling to make a come back after being blown apart on 9-11. Across from us a memorial museum that will open
soon. And over all, the Freedom Tower.
I stare up wondering.
Is this a monument to the freedom we claim to possess and will fight to
the death to protect? At least we’ll send someone to fight and if
necessary to die to protect “our way of life”. I can’t help but wonder though if the real
truth is that this is a monument to the fragile shell of our freedom, a freedom that broke
apart disintegrating into dust and ash that morning a dozen years ago. Humpty
Dumpty sat on a wall…he took a great fall…and not a one of us have been able to
put him back together again.
My friend is looking around; she sighs. I look around at the people milling about. I look at the signs. I look at the names etched into the marble wall surrounding the pools where the Towers once stood. A four-sided waterfall, the water falls down into a lower pool, and then disappears down a large hole at the bottom. The walls weep eternally for those who died here. I weep silently for those who were caught in the Towers that disappeared before our eyes; who never came home to kiss their sweethearts and hug their children.
I weep for the lies and the corruption and the Great Scam we
have willingly allowed to be perpetrated upon us.
Why are we so unwilling to wake up? I stand there in the center of the plaza
thinking about the movie The Matrix—thousands
of people going about their lives—none of it real—the people didn’t know the
difference. They didn’t want to
know.
I have told friends and family members about the research
and information regarding 9-11. They resist. Now, as we stand in that very
place, I tell my friend about the theories of controlled demolition supported
by so many intelligent, educated men and women—engineers, scientists, architects. I tell her about Judy Wood, the courageous
scientist who has dedicated her life to researching what happened to the World
Trade Center on 9-11…her impeccable, scientific research made public in a book
titled, “Where Did The Towers Go?”
My friend is silent.
Manhattan falls away behind us, the Freedom Tower looming above the skyline.
Sunday, March 2, 2014
ADVENTURES IN NEW YORK CITY VII
February 27, 2014
ADVENTURES IN NEW YORK CITY
Walkabout #2
My friend, Gina the Gypsy meets me at the hotel after the
conference. She has 24 hours to show me
her New York City. Tomorrow afternoon
she will turn me over to my other friend, Jen, the actress. Both young women are from Duluth where I live
now. Gina has traveled about from one
adventure to another. She lived in
Puerto Rico for a number of years, eventually ending up in New York. Jen came out here to pursue her dream to sing
and to perform on stage and in film.
Gina continues to embrace the world and have adventures. Jen has found her way into a few movies and
commercials and after only two years, has woven herself into quite a network of
interesting people. I am excited to have
this short time to get to know them both better—and to see New York through
their eyes.
Gina and I head out into a sunny, 52 degree Fahrenheit
afternoon.
We walk toward the New York
Public Library, the bronze plaques embedded in the sidewalk leading us toward
the palatial, marble building.
We come to the end of the line and after a sweep through the
Chelsea Market for something to eat, we head for the subway; my first New York
Subway ride. Once on the train, it looks
and feels much like being on the L in Chicago…or even the Tube in London. The stations though are different. Closer, tighter, darker. I keep imagining that I’m in a movie.
We head to the 911 Memorial…
then the Staten Island Ferry...and
then another train for home.
We are in the Financial District of Lower Manhattan—yet, there are hardly any people, and even fewer folk after we leave the Ferry landing for home. Near empty streets. Empty parks. Only a few people on the subway. I relax. I can take it in now—deeply. But it is too much still—all the stories, all the history, all this energy come together in this place, building up over a few hundred years.
We are in the Financial District of Lower Manhattan—yet, there are hardly any people, and even fewer folk after we leave the Ferry landing for home. Near empty streets. Empty parks. Only a few people on the subway. I relax. I can take it in now—deeply. But it is too much still—all the stories, all the history, all this energy come together in this place, building up over a few hundred years.
Gina cooks up an amazing vegetarian dinner.
I heap my plate. Having grown up
in New York, Gina's partner John tells me stories. They
talk about their amazing food cooperative that was actually featured on The
Daily Show (he shows me the clip). We
talk a bit of politics. It is late when
we all finally find our beds. Gina and
John rent out space in their home through the AirBnB site, but their guests are
still out on the town. I go to sleep
with my meditation music and ideas and images whirling through my thoughts.
Next morning Gina and I head for the nearby park to walk her
sweet dog, Boo. It is quiet and we meet
only a few people. The sun is shining
and the birds are having choir practice—preparing for the Spring Festival, no
doubt. After breakfast, when I
mistakenly eat all the delicious guacamole, we head for the Brooklyn
Bridge. We finally find all the
people—and they are mostly headed for Manhattan.
As we cross the bridge, I am fascinated by the people, the
buildings, the water winding through everything. The ships look like toys down below us.
My heart is light…I want to spread my arms
and fly, even with the 45 lb pack on my back!
We slowly make our way to the Quintessence Restaurant…an
organic, raw food, vegan restaurant Gina used to work at. The menu looks delicious. “My treat!” I say. It’s 2:00.
There’s no way we will make it to the Metropolitan Museum of Art by 2:30
where we are to meet Jen. So Jen comes
to meet us just as we are digging into our Pave De Chocolate-Raspberry dessert. I introduce them and they then discover that
Jen went to High School with Gina’s sister.
Small world indeed.
Our hunger sated, and time running short, Gina bids us
goodbye and Jen flags down a taxi to hurry us off to the Met Museum. We will only have about 45 minutes…what can
you possibly see at a two block square, multi-level museum in 45 minutes? But Jen insists—and I realize that the
experience might be more memorable than spending an entire afternoon!
I am rewarded! There
in the Impressionists Exhibit I find some of my favorites—Van Gogh, Monet,
Renoir…and my very favorite Renoir painting is on display! When I was pregnant with my second child, I
had a borrowed Renoir print hanging next to my bed. I said if my baby was a
girl, I wanted to own that print. She
was, and I do. And strangely, my older
daughter was brunette, my second daughter a blonde. I love this painting!
Jen has secured free seats at a comedy improv show for
us—Face Off. We head over on the train
to the neighborhood, looking first for some dinner. I find an organic grocer and order a smoothie
in a bowl. It is delicious. For $12 I would hope so! When we get to the show, it is in the
basement of a Japanese restaurant famous for their sushi. We eat sushi and drink mojitos and laugh
until our cheeks hurt.
What a lovely finish to my stay in New York!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
