“When you open yourself to the continually changing, impermanent, dynamic nature of your own being and of reality, you increase your capacity to love and care about other people and your capacity to not be afraid. You're able to keep your eyes open, your heart open, and your mind open. And you notice when you get caught up in prejudice, bias, and aggression. You develop an enthusiasm for no longer watering those negative seeds, from now until the day you die. And, you begin to think of your life as offering endless opportunities to start to do things differently.”
― Pema Chödrön, Practicing Peace in Times of War
This quote from Pema Chodron is completely applicable to my situation in life right now. My whole life has become one of "no stability whatsoever." It's like I am constantly surfing, never coming to dry land. I'm trying as hard as I can to see the "silver lining," and believe me it's really hard to do sometimes when everything has fallen apart, but after I get past my own whining, complaining, and kvetching, I realize that really small things mean a great deal to me now: Yesterday I saw a sunset that set the sky ablaze with pink and purple and orange, and I cried at the beauty of it, thinking it was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen, and being extremely grateful for having been given the "eyes to see" the beauty with.
Lately, I've noticed some people around me who have the most ungrateful attitudes I have ever heard, and I am appalled. Some folks are being given everything: food, shelter, clothing, and other gifts, and are doing nothing but complaining about it. And it is with much chagrin that I acknowledge that I'm being shown a shadow part of myself, and that I have asked for this illumination from Spirit.
I believe wholeheartedly in the school of thought that says that those around us are reflecting a part of ourselves that needs to be revealed in order for us to evolve spiritually. Since I've started seeing this 'attitude of non-gratitude,' I have resolved to thank people for the tiniest things, and it is amazing the effect it has, not only on the people I am thanking, but on myself. There really is something to this "attitude of gratitude," it's not just some cheesy slogan that is the latest fad. I actually feel better, more hopeful, more positive, that my presence on this planet matters because I've made a difference in someone's day just by saying a kind word, looking them in the eye, and smiling.
I'm so thankful for the days when there is no artic wind, when the air is calm and I can move about town with ease, and I say a small prayer .... I'm grateful for the person who holds the door open for me, the person who cooks me a meal, for the person who gifts me a book that I said I really wanted to read, for the person who shares a heartwarming story from their childhood, for the person who offers me a ride, for the free computers at the library. As I start writing this list of things I am grateful for, I think of more and more things to be grateful for, and I have changed my own mind and attitude by doing this exercise. And opportunities are beginning to appear out of the blue, opportunities that seem to be an answer to my earnest prayers to be shown the path that I am to travel, where I can be of the greatest service for the highest good of all. And I'm grateful to the geniuses who created the technology that made it possible for me to share my inner most thoughts with the world.
Wednesday, February 1, 2012
Friday, January 27, 2012
Oh, My Beautiful Blake
When I was a little girl, I had a foster-brother named Blake. Blake, it seems, had a very strong effect on my psyche. I hadn't seen him since I was ten, but as a young adult, for several years in a row, I had a recurring dream about him: In the dream, we were always in the woods at a beaver pond, and Blake would always be crouching next to me, with his hand on my shoulder, pointing out all the natural beauty, all the little hidden miracles, saying: "look, see ...?"
This beaver pond existed in real life, and this nature scene actually took place, among many other scenes. Blake was my guide to the natural world, my nature boy. We were always in the woods, hiking down woodland paths. My "favorite thing" at that time was collecting sap, with Blake, from buckets hanging off Maple trees, in order to make syrup -- that his family eventually sold in their campsite store. We would spend hours together in the woods, in the Adirondacks where we grew up, collecting sap and bringing it to this make-shift lean-to in the woods where we would empty it all into a vat and give it a first boiling. Moments that stick out in my mind with great clarity are moments where Blake would crouch down very close to me, put his arm around me and hold me close, whispering, "look ... follow the sight-line to the end of my finger. See that bird? See it? Right there?" And sure enough, there would be some beautiful woodland creature that I'd never seen before. Magic. That's what it felt like whenever I was near Blake. Pure magic. He was my first crush; My first love. I was only ten, and Blake was 16. In my eyes, Blake was not just a good-looking, energetic teenager, but an Adonis, a Greek God, and I had a colossal crush on him, adoring him in a way that I've never really adored anyone since.
The only time that I recall seeing Blake "with a girl," -- I was of course jealous. (Is this a normal reaction for a ten year old?) The two of them were outside, behind the house, on a swing. I was determined that they should not get too close, so I kept making animal calls out of my bedroom window: hooting owls, mewling cats, barking dogs, etc. -- anything to break up their moments of intimacy. This makes me laugh so hard -- he must have though I was so annoying.
Blake pops up linguistically for me all the time. My lexicon is peppered with things he used to say all the time: "humongous" instead of huge, "beautimous" instead of beautiful, and "discombopulated" instead of broken. And every time I call a child or a small animal "buddy," I'm aware that I carry Blake with me in my heart every day. When I had to leave Blake behind because I was moving to a new town, I was broken-hearted, devastated, it was truly traumatic. But I couldn't express my love for him at all. I was afraid to -- because everyone and everything that I have ever truly loved has been taken from me forever. I remember the last time I saw him on the school bus that morning. He said "Goodbye, buddy" and held out his hand for a handshake. I was frozen, a repressed foster-child who could not express her feelings at all. I didn't say anything to him, and I regretted it my whole life. Then, a few years ago, when these recurring dreams started happening, I decided to find him. I found him, married with children, and I stayed with him and his family for the weekend, and I told him, finally, after all these years - how I had felt about him back then -- about how much I LOVED him -- with the pure love of a child. Then, I left him and his family in peace, and I haven't see him since. The dreams stopped.
I still dream of him from time to time, -- not the same dream anymore-- they're always different now, and last night the dream was quite vivid. He looked like his old teenage self, maybe a little older, but dressed in a business suit and looking a little scruffy around the edges. It seemed there was some concern, in the dream, that he might be about to do something harmful that was out of character, but I spoke straight from my heart to his, and then he put his arm around me like he used to do, (which always sent me into ten-year-old ecstacy) and he said something that I can't quite remember, but instinctively I knew that he was saying he was going to "make love" to me (and I was going to be very glad) ... some dreams you just don't want to wake up from. (Actually, I interpret this dream from a Jungian standpoint, to mean that the masculine, action-oriented side of my psyche is now kicking and and about to manifest some cool experiences for me -- that I will love!)
This beaver pond existed in real life, and this nature scene actually took place, among many other scenes. Blake was my guide to the natural world, my nature boy. We were always in the woods, hiking down woodland paths. My "favorite thing" at that time was collecting sap, with Blake, from buckets hanging off Maple trees, in order to make syrup -- that his family eventually sold in their campsite store. We would spend hours together in the woods, in the Adirondacks where we grew up, collecting sap and bringing it to this make-shift lean-to in the woods where we would empty it all into a vat and give it a first boiling. Moments that stick out in my mind with great clarity are moments where Blake would crouch down very close to me, put his arm around me and hold me close, whispering, "look ... follow the sight-line to the end of my finger. See that bird? See it? Right there?" And sure enough, there would be some beautiful woodland creature that I'd never seen before. Magic. That's what it felt like whenever I was near Blake. Pure magic. He was my first crush; My first love. I was only ten, and Blake was 16. In my eyes, Blake was not just a good-looking, energetic teenager, but an Adonis, a Greek God, and I had a colossal crush on him, adoring him in a way that I've never really adored anyone since.
The only time that I recall seeing Blake "with a girl," -- I was of course jealous. (Is this a normal reaction for a ten year old?) The two of them were outside, behind the house, on a swing. I was determined that they should not get too close, so I kept making animal calls out of my bedroom window: hooting owls, mewling cats, barking dogs, etc. -- anything to break up their moments of intimacy. This makes me laugh so hard -- he must have though I was so annoying.
Blake pops up linguistically for me all the time. My lexicon is peppered with things he used to say all the time: "humongous" instead of huge, "beautimous" instead of beautiful, and "discombopulated" instead of broken. And every time I call a child or a small animal "buddy," I'm aware that I carry Blake with me in my heart every day. When I had to leave Blake behind because I was moving to a new town, I was broken-hearted, devastated, it was truly traumatic. But I couldn't express my love for him at all. I was afraid to -- because everyone and everything that I have ever truly loved has been taken from me forever. I remember the last time I saw him on the school bus that morning. He said "Goodbye, buddy" and held out his hand for a handshake. I was frozen, a repressed foster-child who could not express her feelings at all. I didn't say anything to him, and I regretted it my whole life. Then, a few years ago, when these recurring dreams started happening, I decided to find him. I found him, married with children, and I stayed with him and his family for the weekend, and I told him, finally, after all these years - how I had felt about him back then -- about how much I LOVED him -- with the pure love of a child. Then, I left him and his family in peace, and I haven't see him since. The dreams stopped.
I still dream of him from time to time, -- not the same dream anymore-- they're always different now, and last night the dream was quite vivid. He looked like his old teenage self, maybe a little older, but dressed in a business suit and looking a little scruffy around the edges. It seemed there was some concern, in the dream, that he might be about to do something harmful that was out of character, but I spoke straight from my heart to his, and then he put his arm around me like he used to do, (which always sent me into ten-year-old ecstacy) and he said something that I can't quite remember, but instinctively I knew that he was saying he was going to "make love" to me (and I was going to be very glad) ... some dreams you just don't want to wake up from. (Actually, I interpret this dream from a Jungian standpoint, to mean that the masculine, action-oriented side of my psyche is now kicking and and about to manifest some cool experiences for me -- that I will love!)
The Area of Your Greatest Wounding
I'm not sure who said that the area of your greatest wounding is where you'll find your greatest treasure, or something to that effect, maybe Joseph Campbell ... but the Universe was truly listening to me over the holidays, and I can see that the "response" is now occurring: The means to heal myself by helping others go through what I went through is manifesting as we speak. It seems that having been through something that changes your heart dramatically actually gives you tools you may not have even been aware that you had, and sharing these "gifts" that have lain dormant deep inside of you is the key. Thank you angels, I'm truly grateful that you've heard my prayer asking to be shown the way, and that the path is being laid out before me -- clear as day.
Thursday, January 26, 2012
... " I Came to Jesus Through the Backdoor"
To elaborate further on my last post, I came to Jesus through the back door: meaning my interest In Jesus grew from a historical standpoint first. I found myself wanting to know the political, economic, and social climate that existed at the time of Jesus. Everything I've been reading lately, books from the most disparate groups, are leading me to the Gnostic gospels, and I don't really care if anyone thinks I'm a heretic. I was actually accused of being a heretic by a French Catholic man in Aspen, CO when I discovered my first mention of the Gnostic Gospels. I was a total virgin on the subject, and this guy got so Rabid so quickly, I thought: he has no idea that his freak-out- reaction is in no way deterring me from this path, but is actually spurring me to want to go deeper and find out what is going on here!
Quite frankly, the gnostic idea that true enlightenment means undertaking a very personal journey in an individual quest to know yourself as deeply at your core as possible ... rings true with me. Viewing Jesus as a more of a figure who guides you toward your own inner truth is delightfully refreshing. And I think its a-okay that each person's "road to salvation" be a bit different (thank God, as I can not stand conformity).
Quite frankly, the gnostic idea that true enlightenment means undertaking a very personal journey in an individual quest to know yourself as deeply at your core as possible ... rings true with me. Viewing Jesus as a more of a figure who guides you toward your own inner truth is delightfully refreshing. And I think its a-okay that each person's "road to salvation" be a bit different (thank God, as I can not stand conformity).
Wednesday, January 25, 2012
My Soul is Speaking to Me ... shhhh.. I'm Listening
John 20:10-18
This passage keeps appearing in all the different texts I am reading at this time.It's synchronicity: a clue. What does it mean for me personally?
I've personally identified with Mary Magdalene for several years now, communing with and visualizing her, and asking Spirit to help make me more like her. In my mind, she was closest to Jesus; she had the purest understanding of Jesus and his intuitive, inner transformational teachings; she knew him as no one else did. I suppose I’ve come to Jesus “through the back door,” so to speak. For years, I have been disgusted with religion and its history of myriad abuses in the name of God and Christ. But time, experience, and many, many, MISTAKES have tempered my spirit. Having felt so unworthy lately and having felt so unsure as to how to conceptualize a relationship with him, I think I felt it easier to commune with Mary and then if I endeavored to become more like her pure spirit, I might then actually be able to create an intuitive relationship with Jesus. Perhaps this is what is happening for me now internally. I know this sounds crazy to some, and many will think I have tripped into the light fantastic, but I have felt much trepidation about opening my heart to Jesus, about merely approaching him. Perhaps my relationships to men, in the past, have been tainted by all sorts of crap learned in childhood and young adulthood, and now I want something REAL, something PURE, something worthy and lasting.
As a former theater actor, I’m a believer in visualization. I’m attempting to visualize Christ, my own personified version, and also attempting to visualize an actual relationship. I think it would be really cool to be able to use my theater-actor skills to visualize actually sitting and holding hands with Jesus, looking him in the eye, and having a very fond-felt conversation. Suddenly, the song from Jesus Christ Superstar pops into my head: “I don’t know how to love him, what to say, how to move him,” and the lyrics become absolutely real for me. I feel the nervousness and trepidation that a woman feels when she finds someone she really likes, that she feels may be worth the risk of getting to know, and I feel myself moving through those "moments before" (actor terminology) when you screw up enough courage to make the “phone call,” to formally invite this person into your life. It’s a sweet, pure, and beautiful moment. And I'm so quietly grateful to feel this again.
This passage keeps appearing in all the different texts I am reading at this time.It's synchronicity: a clue. What does it mean for me personally?
I've personally identified with Mary Magdalene for several years now, communing with and visualizing her, and asking Spirit to help make me more like her. In my mind, she was closest to Jesus; she had the purest understanding of Jesus and his intuitive, inner transformational teachings; she knew him as no one else did. I suppose I’ve come to Jesus “through the back door,” so to speak. For years, I have been disgusted with religion and its history of myriad abuses in the name of God and Christ. But time, experience, and many, many, MISTAKES have tempered my spirit. Having felt so unworthy lately and having felt so unsure as to how to conceptualize a relationship with him, I think I felt it easier to commune with Mary and then if I endeavored to become more like her pure spirit, I might then actually be able to create an intuitive relationship with Jesus. Perhaps this is what is happening for me now internally. I know this sounds crazy to some, and many will think I have tripped into the light fantastic, but I have felt much trepidation about opening my heart to Jesus, about merely approaching him. Perhaps my relationships to men, in the past, have been tainted by all sorts of crap learned in childhood and young adulthood, and now I want something REAL, something PURE, something worthy and lasting.
As a former theater actor, I’m a believer in visualization. I’m attempting to visualize Christ, my own personified version, and also attempting to visualize an actual relationship. I think it would be really cool to be able to use my theater-actor skills to visualize actually sitting and holding hands with Jesus, looking him in the eye, and having a very fond-felt conversation. Suddenly, the song from Jesus Christ Superstar pops into my head: “I don’t know how to love him, what to say, how to move him,” and the lyrics become absolutely real for me. I feel the nervousness and trepidation that a woman feels when she finds someone she really likes, that she feels may be worth the risk of getting to know, and I feel myself moving through those "moments before" (actor terminology) when you screw up enough courage to make the “phone call,” to formally invite this person into your life. It’s a sweet, pure, and beautiful moment. And I'm so quietly grateful to feel this again.
Monday, January 23, 2012
Why the Jews (who chose not to follow Jesus) did not believe he was the Messiah
Interestingly enough, books that people have been recommending to me lately have explained something I always wondered about: why didn't the Jews (the ones who chose not to follow Christ) believe that Christ was the Messiah? According to Eric Metaxas (Everything You Always Wanted to Know About God (but were afraid to ask)), the Jews had believed the Messiah would overthrow the Romans and return them to their original Sovereignty during the throne of David. ... and (added by Jodi Piccoult, Change of Heart -- who just happens to look a lot like me -- hee hee!) the Messiah should be decidedly "HUMAN." The ancient prophecies say that the Messiah was not only to return the Jewish state to the throne of David, but that he would also raise up (resurrect) ALL the Dead (WHY ON EARTH he would WANT to do that is BEYOND my understanding right now -- Oye ve!) and usher in a time of great peace. Jesus, (the Christ energy, or Logos: Greek for "word", "discourse" or "reason"), who took over the body of a young man named Jesus around age 12, did NOT create a political/military revolt and oust the Romans ... and then he died, so that eliminated him from fulfilling the prophecy.
Ok, now I have a new level of understanding. So , THEN, my question becomes ... why did the Jews who chose to believe Jesus was the Messiah BELIEVE in him? I'm told this has everything to do with his resurrection. But the RESURRECTION was supposed to occur for ALL THE DEAD, according to the ancient prophecy. And if he didn't succeed in ousting the Romans or ushering in a time of Great Peace, WHY did people espouse his ways? I believe this has to do with the fact that he was attempting to reform the actual spiritual, mystical, inner transformative processes of Judaism, and THAT is what the people who ended up following him were after. (Feel free to comment, respond, add to the discussion, please, in the name of illumination.)
Ok, now I have a new level of understanding. So , THEN, my question becomes ... why did the Jews who chose to believe Jesus was the Messiah BELIEVE in him? I'm told this has everything to do with his resurrection. But the RESURRECTION was supposed to occur for ALL THE DEAD, according to the ancient prophecy. And if he didn't succeed in ousting the Romans or ushering in a time of Great Peace, WHY did people espouse his ways? I believe this has to do with the fact that he was attempting to reform the actual spiritual, mystical, inner transformative processes of Judaism, and THAT is what the people who ended up following him were after. (Feel free to comment, respond, add to the discussion, please, in the name of illumination.)
Thursday, January 19, 2012
Singing Spirit
Prompt from Rob Breszny's Free Will Astrology: For Gemini: "What do you think is the most pressing communiqué your future self is currently beaming your way?"
It's funny , but I once attempted to write a play about this very concept - my future wise-woman self (in the form of Baba Yaga) having a dialogue with my present self.
Although my external circumstances might seem bleak or extreme to some at the moment, I see that I am being nurtured and provided for in a way that is allowing me to go deeper into Spirit. I'm not studying formally with any institution of higher learning or even with a mystery school, but I am ravenously devouring all the books I can get my hands on regarding Gnosticism, the true origins of Christianity, Helena Blavatsky and the Theosophical Society, etc, etc. I want to know the real meaning, the real substance, behind the ritual forms - on all levels. And my future self wants me to get back to Singing (particularly songs of love). Just found out via C.W. LEADBEATER'S "Christian Gnosis" that the word "person" means: per - "through," sona - "sound." Cool. Digging into this business about "the Logos," rather than "God," is a bit confusing and rather reads like science fiction, but is fascinating nonetheless. Deeper study is required. Ciao for now!
It's funny , but I once attempted to write a play about this very concept - my future wise-woman self (in the form of Baba Yaga) having a dialogue with my present self.
Although my external circumstances might seem bleak or extreme to some at the moment, I see that I am being nurtured and provided for in a way that is allowing me to go deeper into Spirit. I'm not studying formally with any institution of higher learning or even with a mystery school, but I am ravenously devouring all the books I can get my hands on regarding Gnosticism, the true origins of Christianity, Helena Blavatsky and the Theosophical Society, etc, etc. I want to know the real meaning, the real substance, behind the ritual forms - on all levels. And my future self wants me to get back to Singing (particularly songs of love). Just found out via C.W. LEADBEATER'S "Christian Gnosis" that the word "person" means: per - "through," sona - "sound." Cool. Digging into this business about "the Logos," rather than "God," is a bit confusing and rather reads like science fiction, but is fascinating nonetheless. Deeper study is required. Ciao for now!
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