Moonbeams & Primal Screams

http://www.astrograph.com/free-horoscope/gemini.php

2012-02-08T13:44:00.000-08:00

http://www.astrograph.com/free-horoscope/gemini.php by Henry Seltzer

This astrologer is DEAD-ON accurately describing what is happening inside me right now. (WOW! I BELIEVE!!!)

Everyone around you is joining hands, Gemini, although not necessarily in the physical. You are tempted to shout “alle alle outsinfree” just like in the childhood game. A mystical nature overcomes you at times so that the other-dimensionality of the outer universe is no longer just a rumor. You are, from the security of a deeply felt place of inner refuge, discovering new worlds not so much to conquer as to enliven and even to embrace. All this would be wonderful were it not for the nagging thought that you must somehow still take care of real-world business. This is not as much of a problem as you think since you are simultaneously occupying at least two realities at once. Try clapping your hands three times and softly whispering "make it so."

As the month begins you are in a mode of philosophical speculation. Even more than usual for you – your curiosity and urge to explore other-dimensional realities is strong and vibrant and informs your sense of reality fully as much as the varied and colorful life within strictly the physical plane. Your sense of the depths of your being has an important purpose in that you are investigating the well-springs of desire with an idea of better understanding these emotions, including any dysfunctional patterns stemming from early wounding that are still frozen in place these many years later and still causing you problems when they arise from out of the blue to throw their monkey-wrenches straight into the machinery with which you navigate your everyday world. By looking more closely into these problems you can move beyond them, not by willing them out of existence and not by ignoring them either, but by facing them with a calm and fearless acceptance which allows you to more fully integrate these walled-off feelings and move on. The Full Moon of Tuesday, February 7th, comes along as a relatively peaceful and thoughtful energy that yet strongly encourages this process of increased awareness. You have tremendous drive at this juncture it is true, but it is mostly aimed at the inside of your psyche. You are in essence a spiritual warrior for the cause of truth, and not the shifting and insubstantial truth of consensus thinking but rather the deeply intuitional truth that comes to you from within the purview of your own mind and heart. You are determined to shift what is necessary in you and in others around you to make that truth a more concrete and fully present reality for you as you ease into an uncertain future, resting in the knowledge that one thing at least cannot fail you and that is your ultimate dependence on Spirit and your inner strength to guide you through. With the Last Quarter Moon of Tuesday, February 14th, Valentine's Day, you are looking into the events of the last few weeks even more closely. There is a way that you are hoping to refine your understanding of what has transpired and see things is a realistic and also boldly idealistic fashion as you continue through a month of massive changes, with more on the horizon. Nothing will make sense t you know if it is not the “path with heart” as Carlos Castaneda puts it, namely that vocation which is also the avocation of your soul making sense out of this world. You are feeling this idea even more strongly at the time of the New Moon a week later, taking place on Tuesday, February 21st in your career sector and in conjunction with mystical Neptune. Then you are challenged to have it all; the consciousness of struggle and limitation, and of prior wounding, together with the brightest possible hope for a future that somehow knits everything together, just as it should be, and in some sense already was.

Also, the show "Once Upon A Time" is not just a cute show about folktales. It is absolutely the most incredible metaphor for the way I feel I am living in two realities/dimensions simultaneously. (Watch the show: you'll get it!) Watch full episodes for free at : http://beta.abc.go.com/shows/once-upon-a-time#linkId-Hashtags-#OnceUponATime;#OnceABC

The Impermanent Life

2012-02-01T08:13:00.000-08:00

“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.

Oh, My Beautiful Blake

2012-01-27T11:50:00.000-08:00

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!)

The Area of Your Greatest Wounding

2012-01-27T09:01:00.000-08:00

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.

... " I Came to Jesus Through the Backdoor"

2012-01-26T14:52:00.000-08:00

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).

My Soul is Speaking to Me ... shhhh.. I'm Listening

2012-01-25T11:10:00.000-08:00

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.

Why the Jews (who chose not to follow Jesus) did not believe he was the Messiah

2012-01-23T10:02:00.001-08:00

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.)

Singing Spirit

2012-01-19T08:52:00.000-08:00

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!

2012-01-13T07:30:00.000-08:00

Ice Shards Mosaic

2012-01-10T12:37:00.000-08:00

After a recent freeze, and subsequent thaw, of my intimate inland lake, I watched and listened to a phenomenon that felt like I was living inside a Zen painting. Rather than freezing as a sheer plane of glass, the shoreline had frozen in a mosaic of a thousand ice shards. As I stood still, listening, it made a soft hissing noise, not unlike the sound that rice krispies make when you pour milk on them.
With eyes closed, I swear I could hear Cinderella walking furtively on crushed glass slippers. As the wind gusted, sending waves from the open water, the ice shards collided, tinkling like glass shards in a wind chime. With eyes closed, I had the sense that if I were in deep space, or if I went deep enough inside myself, this would be the sound I would hear.

My Heroes: Safe Harbor on Lake Michigan

2012-01-08T10:26:00.000-08:00

My Heroes: Safe Harbor on Lake Michigan
(Safe Harbor is a faith-based ministry offering love and service to the homeless of the Traverse City area through emergency shelter, meals, community, and encouragement to move forward in a positive direction in their lives.)

Recently, I've literally been functioning as an em-"bedded" journalist in a homeless shelter in Traverse City, MI. I've always been fascinated by subcultures -- (people who are not living the mainstream, 9 to 5, "American Dream," namby-pamby illusion that too many of us are programmed to believe is the only real way to live) -- such as "Dead-heads" or the Kite-makers at the Smithsonian kite festival in Washington D.C., or the the Hot Air Ballooners that take part in the Aspen-Snowmass Hot Air Balloon Festival.

Once, while living in D.C., I marched around the White House with Bosnian demonstrators just to hear their stories. They told me, at that time (I was 26), that I was the only "white person" that would listen to them. That statement affected me in an oddly profound way that I still haven't processed fully. I couldn't help but think: if only I were a person of considerable resources, I could actually DO something to help these people. As it is now at the Safe Harbor Project in Traverse City, MI, it seems to be enough (for now) for me to simply BE with folks, chatting and listening to personal narratives.

One of the things I've realized: people who have difficulty holding a job, staying in a relationship, following a career path (myself included) – all of these things reveal a serious lack of nurturing. And the numerous overtures I have received regarding the possibility of sexual liaisons reveals to me a lack of normal levels of desperately needed loving human touch. Much of the behavior I am observing is motivated by repeated attempts to fulfill that basic need for support and nurturing. I have no judgments about this as I see these issues in myself as well. It is true that the formative years are crucial in shaping us in ways that we can't even remember and are largely unaware of. Being permanently stripped from your Mother's breast as an infant, being unable to look into her eyes, robbed of comfort and safety ....
What is happening in America that we are creating a nation of people who are incapable of giving basic human kindness to our children? We are a nation of people who are over-compensating by over-imbibing, over-eating, or obsessed with screwing our way to some kind of satiation or fulfillment. What are the philosophies of our so-called leaders that perpetuate this Shadow side, this so-called underbelly of society?

A woman in her fifties, staying in the shelter, told me that a young girl who comes and goes, is considered a "wild one," meaning the girl has given birth to three children who are now in foster care. This breaks my heart: the next generation of shelter inhabitants. (Where are Angelina Jolie and all the other celebs? There are so many kids in this country that need to be saved. But, Americans don't want to admit their own mistakes, flaws, and shadow sides. No wonder the rest of the world thinks we are hypocrites.) The Welfare system in America, while it may have been created with good intentions, is no place for a child to be raised. The level of the dysfunction is staggering. There are no "watch-dogs" to ensure that a myriad of possible abuses DO NOT occur.

I realize that "polite society" doesn't want to hear about the more illicit side of society, but I want to scream: "WAKE UP!" It is this very tendency to insulate ourselves from this aspect of reality that is a huge part of the problem. People just want to be heard, and they want the economic freedom to meet their needs. Sweeping our society's homeless issues under the rug is the metaphorical equivalent of locking a child in a closet.

I grew up in a small town where the inhabitants (still) turn a blind eye to the abuse that happens behind the closed doors of America's nuclear families. This "not wanting to know" or "unwillingness to see" the dark side of humanity is exactly what is perpetuating, if not creating, the myriad abuses and societal problems in our country. Locking our doors and attaining more sophisticated alarm systems does not solve the problem. Floodlights do not make the boogey-men go away, it only causes them to move further into the shadows, creating more hurt, more fear, more anger, and creates the conditions where a person is more likely to explode in some unexpected way in order to fulfill some basic need that our society is not supplying via the "nuclear family" unit or via the government. This brings to mind the legend of Frankenstein. Folk- legends, as well as great literary works like the Odyssey, reveal the unconscious dimensions of ourselves. Frankenstein, "the Monster," is the creation of the System that has been designed by the upper-crust, the elites, the "one-percenters" to meet the needs of an elite few. The underbelly of society is the "trickle down" effect of their creation, which they do not take responsibility for.

Our nation's leaders have lost touch with their hearts, lost touch with what's going on "on the ground," and now the time has come for our people to once again to act. Hence, the "Occupy Wall Street" movement that is gaining momentum like wildfire. While the protesting is raising awareness and people are seeking new ways to affect change, this shelter program is an excellent example of ordinary people coming together to help fellow citizens from all walks of life that are enduring difficult times. This project, called "Safe Harbor" is a network of community churches and their volunteers that rotate sleeping quarters on a weekly basis throughout the winter. One week is spent at the Presbyterian church, the next at the Catholic church, the next with the Methodists, and so on. There are various places in town where the homeless can go to take a shower, do laundry, and use computers for free. Volunteers cook and serve meals and provide companionship to those in need. The "companionship" factor needs to be recognized: the volunteers do not act like authoritarian nazis to their fellow townspeople (as can be the case in more institutionalized shelters.) The volunteers running the project don't make the homeless blow breathalyzers or threaten to kick residents out in the street if they have a display of frustration (as often happens in more institutionalized shelters). Shelter situations where staff members act more akin to prison wardens, ruling with an iron fist, have a tendency to demoralize residents. It is this Dickensian authoritarian behavior, this expectation that the homeless person is a peon expected to subjugate themselves in the presence of staff, that is reminiscent of English workhouses set up to demoralize the Irish -- this type of scenario needs to go the way of the dinosaur. Demoralizing parental/authoritarian attitudes are the original reason for the homeless problem in the first place. Enough is enough.

Alternatively, the Safe Harbor volunteers hug their fellow human beings, joke with them, play cards with them, show each other how to knit hats, tell stories about various wars or about times spent living abroad, and they generally accept each person as he is, "warts and all," much like a true family.

Recently there was an article in the Northern Express regarding Michael Moore revving up the Occupy Wall Street movement in TC. In the article, the idea was expressed that because Michigan has been hit the hardest economically, people are watching to see what creative ideas we come up with to deal with economic depression.

To that end, America should take a look at the "Safe Harbor Project." Granted, organized religion historically has its drawbacks, and institutionalized shelters tend to dehumanize, but it strikes me that Jesus would approve wholeheartedly of what is happening here at Safe Harbor. There is no celebrity element here. You won't find Madonna or Angelina Jolie spending their time or money here. The celebrities here are small town folks with great big hearts coming together, forgetting about political dividing lines (and other such barriers to compassion, charity, and community) and are giving of their time and elbow grease.

My hat is off to these folks, they are my heroes.

Hoping for a 2012 Miracle!

2011-12-29T13:16:00.001-08:00

I've been a theater person most of my life (actor, vocalist) and never wanted money to be the focus or purpose of my life.
(I had an adoptive family, but they left my life several years ago -- they refused to support me in any way if I chose to become a theater person. And, of course I said: "I have to be who I am." That decision has led to some very ecstatic moments, as well as some very dire financial times. But, I've persevered -- because I have to). In 2000, I consciously gave up all my material belongings because I wanted my life to be about something more spiritual/meaningful.

2011 has been a "doozie." Literally feeling I've been whacked in the head with a shovel several times -- I know it's all been in the name of inner transformation, examining my less desirable personality traits (as an actor analyzes the strengths and weaknesses in her actor toolbox) in order to turn lead into gold, so it's all for the best.

During this process, it has become clear: life needs to start being about what I can give (like JFK said) to the larger picture, being of service to something greater than myself.

In 2012, I'm hoping for a miracle, and hoping the right path of service (in whatever capacity necessary) will manifest, and I will get the chance to learn, and be gentle, nurturing, and compassionate to others so that they may experience freedom on all levels (as that is of the utmost importance to me.)

So, Brad Meltzer or History.com: hire me to be your Symbologist -- and you'll get a whole different story!!!

2011-12-27T16:04:00.001-08:00

Over the holidays, I've had a chance to catch some of the programming on the History channel. What is up with the latest trend in all their programming? Their theory is that all the wisdom from ancient mystery schools was given to humanity by "extra terrestrials or aliens." I hear this, and think: maybe they mean "multidimensional beings" -- which are not really the same as "aliens." And when they show Viking burial sites that have rocks surrounding the mound in the shape of a "boat," I don't see a "boat." I see the symbol for the Vesica Piscis. The Vesica can be found in in doors and windows in Churches, Mosques, Pagodas, Tabernacle's and Temples world wide. Check it out. They should pepper their programming with experts on Sacred Geometry.
Also,on Brad Meltzer's Decoded, they discussed Da Vinci and made a (brief) reference to a drawing, or invention, of his that is a tetrahedron, and as I watched I thought: "oh, the Merkaba." But they didn't discuss that. I first learned of the Merkaba through Drunvalo Melchizedek (on You Tube). Now, THAT is some interesting programming!

There was a lot of speculation about the Mona Lisa and the water in his painting,andthey postulated that the painting was possibly a self-portrait. So, while they were thinking that Da Vinci was a cross-dresser, I'm thinking that yes, he was leading us to his "feminine side," or what we commonly refer to as Intuitive ways of knowing, or the Feminine Divine. Their interpretation was that Da Vinci was warning us of a cataclysmic flood, end of the world type stuff. Using my Intutive faculties, my interpretation is even more esoteric: Da Vinci is possibly warning us about the consequences of not being able to tame our emotions and our more base desires. Water = emotions (and the subconscious) in the world of symbolism. Water, the seas, etc. can be dark and mysterious. If we are UNAWARE of what is lurking in the waters of our unconscious selves, these primal forces can cause great storms in our lives, individually and collectively, or if we choose to "see" what is down there in the murky depths (instead of denying it), we can work with it, deal with it, face it, and have something nurturing and sustainable come from what may have once seemed impending doom or calamity. The world (starting with myself) needs to start looking more at its own Shadow side, rather than projecting our worst fears and anger (and other bullcocky) onto others. The roots of environmental devastation are a result of the fact that collectively, humanity is afraid to look at its Shadow side. Changing the INDIVIDUAL Self is changing the world ... one by one. Ghandi knew what he was talking about: "Be the Change." (But, that's just my opinion.)

So, Brad Meltzer or History.com: hire me to be your Symbologist -- and you'll get a WHOLE DIFFERENT STORY!!!

Help a sista' out, Friends!

2011-12-22T14:12:00.000-08:00

Help a sista' out, Friends! Rate my poem and help a starving artist to cash-in for once! Thanks and happy holidays!!!

Go to:

http://www.facebook.com/WorldPoetryMovement?sk=app_130827587002363&app_data=3785825
or visit my wall at: http://www.facebook.com/kathryn.preston3

Thanks!

The Womb, vesica piscis, the tunnel ...

2011-12-17T13:17:00.000-08:00

OK, this is going to sound really bizarre ... two mornings ago, I was watching the tunnel, spinning in its usual blue, kaleidoscopic beauty, and it became visually clear to me that the entrance to the tunnel was the vesica piscis (it looked just like the vaginal opening, except that it is this deep royal blue color with a black background). As I was watching the tunnel, I heard a noise in the hallway and thought someone was coming to my door, so I opened my eyes, and as I did, there was a distinct pull (or movement) in my own uterus. So, this led me to believe that the tunnel was leading me into my own womb - talk about a strange concept! Then, I realized that I had written and performed a monologue this summer that was all about my womb being "a place of deepest knowing," and all of a sudden - it's not just pretty poetry on paper -- its real!

spiral, tunnel, vortex ?

2011-12-08T12:54:00.000-08:00

Ok, so I (or my consciousness) actually traveled down the tunnel. I was inside the vortex. I have no idea how I got there. But something came toward me in the tunnel and flew over my head, or flew above my range of sight. It was either a fish with huge fins or a salamander with wings. Anyone know what this was? Does this tunnel symbolize the tunnel we are born/re-born in? Am I having a death/re-birth experience? Am I about to enter the world of Spirit? Does this make sense for people who have been through a lot of trauma, that they become Shamanic? ... anyone, ... Bueller, Bueller?

Give Until it Hurts

2011-12-04T12:04:00.000-08:00

This is what makes me (and many others) angry as hell at people who claim to be Christians (or even "Spiritual") -- the sheer hypocritical nature of IGNORING someone who is clearly stating a dire need for HELP right in front of you. For too long, we have chosen to ignore the fact that there are people, right in front of us, right under our noses, who have been TRAUMAtized BEYOND BELIEF in THIS country, IN AMERICA -- people who need a little of that "Christian Charity." It isn't enough to have food drives and bake sales anymore.

AMERICA IGNORES IT'S OWN ... just like the people in the Penn State scandal, we are afraid of the truth - afraid to put our necks out there for a stranger, we go along with the program of the larger group rather than think for ourselves, -- but these same traumatized folks are EXPECTED to help others achieve THEIR goal, they are expected to be the cogs in the wheel, the workhorses for the greedy. As if YOUR GREEDY GOAL is somehow more important than the healing, or the welfare of an individual. The individual is a reflection of the macrocosm, the larger picture, and if you think you are seeing shadowy figures pan-handling on the sidewalks, TAKE A GOOD HARD LOOK! That person may have fought for his country, given the best of himself to a country that then threw him away. Or that ragged looking woman may once have been someone's little girl, she may have been the next Shirley Temple, the next Marilyn Monroe, but because she was given no encouragement, no love, no affection, she is now a "ghost," herded to a local shelter where 'people with problems' are being drugged and their souls are squashed/silenced completely. This submerging of souls and spirits is backfiring on America. We are all being asked to be brave enough to open our hearts and extend them to people beyond our immediate 'nuclear families.' I'd like to punch whoever coined that phrase (nuclear families) right in the nose! LOOK at the shadow side of America. It's time. LACK OF LOVE KILLS SPIRITS!

The next time you hear someone who is angry, someone who is 'acting out,' someone who is behaving 'inappropriately' (there IS NO inappropriate behavior -- there are only human beings in various stages of awareness), and if we are all spiritual beings having a human experience -- please have the wisdom to see that this person is CRYING out for help in the only way they know how, AND HELP THEM!!!! Don't yell at them, don't try to control them, don't push them to be what you think they should be ... try some gentleness, try some compassion, listen to that person's dreams rather than forcing your own agenda on them.

I grew up a ward of the state and I know all too well about the abuses that are coming down the pike from those in positions of so-called authority. Unfortunately, the people who are the supposed 'caretakers' in our society, of foster children and of the homeless, are perpetrating abuses of power right and left -- and no one truly cares. It has become hip, a trend set by celebrities, to go abroad and help the less fortunate. I would like to see some of these celebs put their attention right in their own back yards. Help at home, help other AMERICANS!!! That is the only way this country is going to be great again.

It makes me ill, and I'm sure Christ would not of approve of the hypocrisy going on in his name. GO OUT AND BE THE UNCONDITIONAL LOVE that Christ was truly all about. Life is nearly impossible for those who never received a kind word, any kind of praise, support, or loving kindness. Please GIVE this Christmas (and beyond) - until it hurts!!! - because I guarantee you -- someone out there is hurting more than you could ever fathom.

Water wisdom

2011-12-02T08:49:00.000-08:00

Yesterday, I sat by the edge of the Boardman River and allowed myself to bask in the sun's rays ... we hadn't seen the sun for several days and I was "jones-ing" for it's light and warmth. (Similarly, I feel I am "jones-ing" on the inside, as well, for love, warmth, and affection.) Sometimes this inner transformation work is very lonely.
Closing my eyes, I thought I was seeing some kind of reflection of the light moving on the water (inside my closed lids). But I realized I was looking in the area of my third eye, seeing something I've never seen there before: at first it looked like a white mist, or even soft clouds swirling. I thought they were moving randomly, but as I focused, I realized the "clouds," or mist, was disappearing into a hole, a tunnel, a vortex? The mist wasn't just swirling in a circular motion, it (the mist) was literally being sucked into the hole/tunnel. I kept thinking: "I wish I could send my consciousness down that tunnel (how do I DO that?) and see where it would take me. Where would I end up? What would I see - other realms? other beings? Would I know how to come back once I stepped into the vortex? Constructive comments from the "initiated" among you are welcome!

Kathryn Preston singing Janis Ian's Lovers Lullabye A Capella

2011-11-28T13:19:00.000-08:00

http://www.facebook.com/photo.php?v=1761831719435&set=t.1048342148&type=3&theater

Druidry, Merlin, Pendragon

2011-11-19T14:07:00.001-08:00

Another interesting synchronicity is starting to happen surrounding the name 'Pendragon.' Now, this may be nothing new to some of you , but it's all new to me, so bear with 'the novice' for amoment.

Last winter I was in a quaint little town that time forgot in the Adirondacks, a town where there was a local theater called "Pengragon."

I had no idea at all, at that time, what the name meant or that it connected in any way with Druidry, Merlin, Arthur, etc.

This past summer and fall, as I pursued my research regarding Druids, I find that Arthur's father was named Uther Pendragon, and the word 'Pen' literally means "head" (of the dragon). Whenever I watch a movie about "Arthur," I cry -- with a longing, and an inexplicable yearning (not 'romantic' ... I don't have the hots for Clive Owen,... well, alright maybe a wee bit of a crush ("King Arthur" 2004.) ... the sense of loyalty and commitment to a higher cause, the nobility of principals, the willingness to risk EVERYTHING for something larger than ourselves ... it awakens something in me.)

Merlin has been a huge symbol for me for years, and the more I read different interpretations re Merlin and Druids, the deeper and more rounded they are becoming -- he is less and less an archetype, and more and more REAL with each passing day. In fact, I just met a real live Druid who graduated from the order of Bards, Ovates, and Druids in Britain. (A sort of real-life hogwarts).

Perhaps -- now is the time to go deeper, to stop dancing around the perimeter of Druidry, and "enter the circle," so to speak. It may be time to become who I really am - to the fullest. I have believed for some time now that I was possibly a Druid/Bard in a former life, and have certainly been a Bard in this life - in my younger days. Everything that I've read about Druid practices or ways of thinking and being, are exactly what I do naturally, instinctively. It's time to go deeper. Blessed be.

Janis Ian's Lovers Lullabye sung a capella by Kathryn Preston

2011-11-16T13:05:00.000-08:00

http://www.facebook.com/photo.php?v=1761831719435&set=t.1048342148&type=3&theater

Janis Ian's Lovers Lullabye
sung a capella by Kathryn Preston

Auras, vesica piscis, angel feathers?

2011-11-07T15:56:00.000-08:00

Auras.
Ok , so many people see auras with their eyes open.
For some reason -- I can't explain it -- I seem to see auras with my eyes shut.

Seriously, if a person with a lot of energy stands in front of me, I can see a color associated with them when I close my eyes.

I first noticed this when I started to receive Deeksha. The Deeksha giver would stand in front of me, laying her hands on my head to give me the transfer of energy that Deeksha is all about, and I would close my eyes and see the color: sky blue. As soon as she moved away, the movie screen in my mind faded back to black (with a bit of swirling purple).

I also find I can see this when I "tune into" (sorry for the '60's acid terminology, but that's the only jargon I have right now) a plant, a tree, a flower. Today, I sat on a dock at Boardman Lake before going to work. The sun was beautiful and the waves were gentle.
I closed my eyes and saw a mixture of white light and ... honey. Seriously, honey-colored ... something. I don't know what it was in particular that showed up as honey, ... maybe it was a mix of the sun and the general light in the air around me ... I don't know, but it was constantly morphing. It's never stagnant color, like on a solid, painted wall ... it's always moving and changing, sort of like a lava lamp and a kaleidoscope mixed together.
Then, I took a moment and noticed the waves all around me in this intimate inland lake. There were waves moving north, into the shore line, and then there were smaller waves bouncing off the dock and overlaying the larger, northern-moving waves. The effect was like feathers ... or, an affect much like the vesica piscis symbol ... many, many of them. "Energy in motion" was what came into my mind. Sometimes I see this same pattern, in a royal blue color when I close my eyes. The background is blue while the lines of the "vesica piscis" criss-crossing each other are light blue.
I don't know what any of this really means, but it struck me that I might be seeing angelic feather patterns, or ... some church/cathedral windows have this shape - the entrance to the womb? the shape of some leaves and/or flower petals?
Whatever it was -- it was a moment of serenity and beauty, and it was inside me, and all around me, in the beauty of the earth, air, and water, all at the same time. And for the first time in a very long time, I felt peaceful within.

Waterworks

2011-11-05T09:43:00.001-07:00

In the past couple of days, I've noticed problems with my plumbing. Nothing major, just a faucet that would not shut off. Correspondingly, I noticed "waterworks" within myself. The past several months have been harrowing, and I haven't had any time alone in order to process (until the last two days). I've gotten to the point where I see these symbols and events in my every day life: leaky faucets, water overflowing, as a symbolic reflection of what's going on inside me regarding emotions that have been repressed -- leaking out of any crack possible. Years ago, I read a book called "Life as a Waking Dream." Amazing! Read it! It helped me see life in a completely different way. Whoever originally said "life is but a dream" wasn't kidding.

Seeking Soulful Work

2011-11-04T08:14:00.000-07:00

kathrynshakti@yahoo.com

Seeking soulful, fulfilling work as an actor, vocalist, voice-over talent, writer, proofreader, production assistant for film, television, radio, music industry;
travel-writer: topic - sacred sites.

Inspired by philosophy, myth, quantum physics, alternative spiritualities.

Heroes: Carl Jung, Joseph Campbell, Ghandi, Deepak Chopra, ancient Celtic Druids/Bards.

I am a fan of ancient, intuitive ways of knowing, a child of nature, infinitely creative, strong imagination, and love improvisation.

My Music Reviews, poetry, and other writing samples available on my blog: http://moonbeansprimalscreams.blogspot.com/

Please contact me if you or your company are in need of someone who is a Flexible Risk-taker, comfortable with adapting to different realities on a dime! kathrynshakti@yahoo.com

Fractal Time

2011-10-27T15:10:00.000-07:00

kathrynshakti@yahoo.com

I love author Gregg Braden! I just checked out his book “Fractal Time.” He talks about something I’m interested in: Patterns. He says nature uses repeating patterns to build energy. Nature builds itself in fragments. Each fragment is made up of patterns that are similar, yet not identical. He says Nature is a program that drives the universe. He goes on to say that patterns identified for an earlier time in history tend to repeat with greater intensity at later dates. He gave many historical examples, and I thought, this must apply to the microcosm (my little life) as well as the macrocosm. And lo and behold, the next chapter described a formula that can be used to look at traumatic events (or ecstatic ones) in our personal lives to predict when such events might happen again in our lives. Let’s say at age 11 I lost my father (which I did, and so did Gregg Braden). Take the number phi: .618 and multiply it by that age: 11 x .618 = 6.798. Add that number (6.798) to age 11 to get the next age in the sequence. In this case, age 17.798 will be the next time an event of loss will occur. The goal is to map out the pattern in your life and become conscious of it, then attempt to change the pattern so that something new occurs! (And I have to report that I AM DUE FOR SOME ECSTACY real soon!) I Love this guy! I love the Quantum Physics. I’m no scientist (really, more of a mystic) but I find it fascinating! HOPE YOU WILL TOO.

Quantum Angels

2011-10-18T12:44:00.000-07:00

kathrynshakti@yahoo.com

Ok, so riding on the back of a touring bike for 900 miles, one has a lot of time to think. Here's what I was thinking about while riding from New York to Michigan: I believe in angels. I KNOW without a doubt (due to personal life experience) that they exist, and I don't care whether anyone agrees with this, or thinks I'm insane for believing this, so let's get on with this treatise.

Never having ridden on the back of a motorcycle before, I was seriously concerned with my mortality as I found myself flying past rigs at 75 mph on the highway while winds from all directions were acting as a battering ram on my body. Praying to my angels for protection, my mind drifted, and I wondered how it was possible that angels could hear the prayers or ministrations of everyone on the planet at the same time.

I believe in the idea of parallel realities: that I exist in an infinity of realities simultaneously. But, as far as I know, I am only able to be aware of one reality at a time. Or, is that true? I tried to break it down: how many realities can I be aware of at one time? I was aware of the physical reality whizzing past me: the cold wind, the smells, the sights, but I was also aware of my internal reality which was attempting to get inside the experience of the angels - a first for me. Usually, I ask them for help or guidance, but this was the first time I contemplated THEIR consciousness. (If I am contemplating their consciousness, does this bring me closer to them? Does this musing about them make me more like them? Am I possibly an "earth angel? Are there different "genres" of angels living on earth disguised as humans?

How is it that angels are able to be aware of all of us at the same time? And why do I assume that's true? Modern physics (quantum mechanics) says that if we were able to be conscious of all realities at the same time, we would know all there is to know. I have concluded that the angels must have this ability - to be conscious of all the possible realities simultaneously. HOW do they do it? And WHY are THEY able to do it, while I am unable to? What did they DO to RATE, to be 'worthy' of this superpower? Fred Alan Wolf says in "Taking the Quantum Leap," that to get to any other branch of the multiple-branching reality one just has to "become aware of what you want to do. From any branch there is a pathway leading to any other branch. Time is all you need, and time is all you really have to work with." Is this what the angels do? Do they make a conscious decision to tune into one frequency of light over the other frequencies in order to answer prayers? Do they have to specifically choose to give attention to my particular vibration in order to help me, or are they able to receive and respond to all frequencies at one time? Do they give general injections, or infusions, of light to humanity and make this available to the whole world at once? And if so, is it then up to each one of us to tune into that available energy individually? Or do they only become actively involved when they are actually called upon? I wonder how many people on this planet regularly call on the angels as often as I do? Do they find my pleas for assistance annoying, or is it their purpose to be of service? Do the angels make decisions on who to help by determining who actually has the greatest need in the moment? -- My thoughts are just ... spiraling ... like DNA ... like the fibonacci spiral ...like spirit.
Do you think that it's a coincidence or synchronicity that a song called "Too Many Angels" by Jackson Browne just started playing while I am writing this? (smile)
Kathryn can be reached at kathrynshakti@yahoo.com

Kathryn Preston's Interview with Kat Katsanis, Angel Therapist®

2011-09-27T06:46:00.000-07:00

August 13, 2011 Full Corn’ Moon

Kat Katsanis, Angel Therapist®, is the Founder of KaTransformations, a personal transformation business in New York, New York. She has also worked at the Chopra Center and Spa as an Angel Therapist Workshop Facilitator. Kat received her Bachelor of Arts from Sarah Lawrence College, and her Master of Arts from New York University. http://katransformations.com/

Kat and I sat outside the café at the Omega Institute for Holistic Studies recently while the crickets and the Dharma Bums serenaded us with folk tunes and old spirituals. Kat fondly recounted receiving her first channeled information when she was five years old. She recalled a poem, a song that came to her fully intact. As she sang it over and over, Kat’s mother was fully receptive to her ‘precocious priestess,’ and wrote the lyrics down:

"When you feel sad and worried,
A sweet angel says to you,
'Open your heart to goodness, kindness and love.
The world cannot do it.
Remember the good dream that you always had...
When you feel blue and worried,
Open your heart to goodness, kindness and love.
Remember the good dream that you always had.'"

This early poem was a foreshadowing of the through-line in Kat’s personal narrative.

Overhearing Kat on the phone one day at Omega, giving what sounded like some type of psychic advice, I became very curious about her “intuitive ways of knowing” and wanted to understand it from the inside out. She related that she is mostly clairaudient, which she describes as hearing or receiving information that is wiser than her every-day, mundane voice. What she hears is not an actual voice with tone and pitch, as we would hear in the world of matter (in “real time”) if we were having an actual conversation, but more like thoughts that are different from her usual “planning voice,” e.g. the thoughts that run through her mind as she maps out the day’s events and thinks about how she will execute mundane tasks. Rather, the intuitive guidance she receives are thoughts that are uplifting, inspirational, and very much “in the present moment.”

Kat has cultivated and honed her inner gifts via workshops with Doreen Virtue. In 2004 she participated in a workshop, here at Omega, where Doreen “blew me away” with the type of information that can be received and related in an Angel Therapy session. Kat recalled one Angel reading in particular where Doreen told a female participant that she could see some kind of chemical coursing through the woman’s veins that was dragging her vibration down. The woman rejected Doreen’s information, insisting that there was no such chemical being ingested, that she was a vegetarian and drank only herbal teas and organic drinks. But, Doreen wasn’t dissuaded or put off. She held steady with the information she was receiving, and eventually deduced that the woman was using a type of artificial sweetener in her beverages that was causing physical symptoms that led her to feel an inability to fully actualize herself and her purpose in life. This was an illuminating moment for the participant and for Kat Kasanis, who is now an Angel Therapy Practitioner in her own right.

In the beginning, when she was new to the over-the-phone consultations, Kat would go off by herself and prepare her material before presenting it to her clients, but now that she’s more comfortable with herself and her process, she picks up the phone and stays open to receiving whatever information comes “in the moment.” The philosophy of staying open is key: “You can’t,” she says, “be rigid about how spirit should show itself.” Though primarily clairaudient, sometimes Kat receives clairvoyant information. Clairvoyant literally means “one who sees clearly.” Sometime she channels a person’s higher self, or she can receive information from parts of the psyche that remain unconscious – traumatic material – that she tunes into and sees in her mind’s eye as we would see something via Skype.

Often, Kat is asked about a client’s loved-one, someone that is difficult to connect with emotionally. She learns the person’s first and last name, and that person appears in her mind’s eye. Initially, she will give the client “hits” like: “I see a person wearing Bermuda shorts and Dockers,” giving a general physical description in order to receive verification from the client: “yes, that’s Bill.” She’s read for people who live across the ocean, on different continents, and the process works the same way, as if they were in the same town. (While she hasn’t tried reading for someone in a different galaxy, she jokes, she is “open to the possibility.”) While Kat is on the phone with “Sally” the client, she interviews “Bill” telepathically and then relays the information out loud, “like a conference call,” she says, so that the client can hear the question and answer process, because “we all like to hear a person interview someone who’s hot, like Barabara Walters interviewing Tom Cruise.”

Kat finds the Angel Therapy work deeply satisfying because she feels she is facilitating the process of “healing hearts.” But occasionally, Kat works as a Medium, communicating with dead people. She suggests that when someone dies, “it isn’t like they die and go over to the other side and get a ‘makeover.’ Many of the personality characteristics a person had while alive, stay in-tact. Kat says that although she is willing to do Medium work, she prefers working with Angels. “It’s like working in retail versus working in your own home privately.” In Medium work, the energy is different, more dense. She says, “When you’re working with human beings who have crossed over, sometimes … they’re cranky … and not as pleasant as Angel energy.” However, having said that, Kat is quick to say that no one should point fingers, blame, or condemn anyone in the material world. “Unless you’re Jesus, don’t condemn,” she says. (Amen to that.)

On that note, Kat and I also discussed how it’s all too easy to put our gurus, mediums, seers, and teachers on a pedestal. We tend to think they should be above reproach, always in alignment, perfect. Kat reminds us to “be patient with our teachers” as we forget that they too are simply human beings, as we are, struggling day to day with aspects of ourselves that we still have yet to master.

I’ve had the good fortune to observe Kat on a few occasions during Angel Therapy sessions, and the overall feeling I get is that she is a sincerely joyful person, interested in tolerance, diplomacy, understanding, and in helping others feel heard and valued as they move through their journey.

Kat offers a wide variety of intuitive, ritual, and healing services which you can read about on her website at:

kat@katransformations.com
http://katransformations.com/index.php
http://www.blogtalkradio.com/katkatsanis111
Check out Kat’s CD’s: http://www.cdbaby.com/artist/KatKatsanis

http://facebook.com/kat.katsanis
http://www.facebook.com/pages/Kat-Katsanis/195858097100279
http://www.facebook.com/pages/Kat-Katsanis/195858097100279#!/kat.katsanis

Actor/Journalism Resume

2011-09-26T09:23:00.000-07:00

Kathryn Preston
Sex: Female
Height: 5’6’’
Weight: 130 lbs.
Hair: Blonde cell: 231-313-6255
Eyes: Blue

THEATRE

Studio Theater D.C. Cat On A Hot Tin Roof Maggie
Hair! Ensemble

National Players Tour 46 Equus Dora Strang

The Tempest (Musical) Ceres

The Way We Live Now Ensemble
Improvisation Instructor

Oakland University The Shadow Box Felicity

Sweeney Todd Ensemble

Laundry & Bourbon Hattie

The Marriage of Bette and Boo Joanie

University of Alaska-Anchorage Romeo & Juliet Lady Capulet

Arms & The Man Catherine Petkoff

Night of the Iguana Miss Fellowes

The Merry Wives of Windsor Mistress Quickly

Lysistrata Kleonike

Sexual Perversity in Chicago Joan

Evita! Eva’s Ghost/Ensemble

The Ecstacy of Rita Joe Teacher

UAA Summer Stock Tour The Dragon The Princess

Defiance Theater Godspell Joan

Thunder River Theater Antigone Ismene

Michigan Theater

I Never Saw Another Butterfly Irena Synkova

Oliver! Nancy

The Sound of Music Baroness

Up the Down Staircase Bea Schacter

Alaska Cabin Nite Dinner Theater, ARA Leisure Services, Denali National Park AK Lilli Laredo

VOICE-OVER/COMMERCIAL/FILM/INDUSTRIALWORKSHOPS:

“Contact” Extra Howard Zemekis

Coca-Cola Bar Patron T.A.M. Class Industrial

Children’s Healthcare Radio voice-overs Families USA Foundation

“Many Moods of Mt. Sopris” T.V. Commercial VO Latent Images

Active Communications X-games ’04 Radio commercial KSPN, Aspen

“Romeo & Lilliet” AARP Radio voice-over Washington D.C.

Michael Sheehan & Associates Radio & TV Journalism Washington DC

Studio Theater Acting Conservatory Acting I II Scenework Serge Seiden

FREELANCE JOURNALISM

Aspen Peak Magazine Aspen, CO Freelance Music reviews

Aspen Daily News Aspen, CO Freelance Music reviews

The Valley Journal Carbondale, CO Freelance Theater / Music reviews

Crystal Valley Echo Redstone, CO Article, Dog Sled Races

The Frederick Gazette Frederick, MD Freelance music reviews

Talking Leaves Journal Eugene, Oregon Poetry

The Healing Springs Journal Saratoga Springs, NY Poetry

EDUCATION & SKILLS
University of Alaska-Anchorage BA in Theater; Voice-Over Talent, Vocalist, Avid Hiker, Spoken-Word Poet, freelance journalist

Fairy Dancer

2011-07-31T06:24:00.000-07:00

Tonight I was a fairy-dancer, flying, dancing, and spiraling to the Indian classical music of Steve Gorn, who played in the Sanctuary at the Omega Institute for Holistic Studies in Rhinebeck, NY. Initially on the ground, high-stepping and kicking, I then decided to be less restricted by human limitations. Jumping high into the air, somersaulting, and tumbling, I danced in mid-air. Next, I flew to the treetops while the drummer played quick, frenetic beats, and I tap-danced on glossy-leaves-reflecting the sun, at the top of the tree-line.
While the flute and drum were doing opposite things musically, I surrendered and spiraled in slow-motion. Unseen hands supported me as I stretched my arms out and floated, spinning like a dervish, slowly, softly … merging with the air.

As the flute soared, I flew over the lush green treetops for miles until I saw a lake. Descending, I danced on the beach, sprinkling fairy dust with flourishes that mimicked the djembe-drum percussion. Waterfalls of pixie dust showered the flowers, and I went to the lake and hopped along the surface of the water on the sun-sparkles. Each note of the music became a new dance-step as I jumped from sparkle to sparkle. And where the sunlight shimmered on the water, I shimmied with it and hop-scotched on sun-sparkles across the lake.

Lo and behold, out of the blue, a boy-fairy showed up. I took his hands in mine and we mirrored each other for a while, and then danced counterpoint. To a casual observer, we might have looked like dragon flies doing a courtly dance. We took off in flight and scaled the side of a mountain, flying right through the middle of a waterfall into a cave that tunneled through the mountain and out the other side. We climbed higher in to the sky, wrapped our arms around each other, and spiraled, faster and faster, higher and higher, until we left the stratosphere and found ourselves in deep-space. I chose a star for him, and one for me, the way you would pick a wildflower for someone. We glowed like fireflies, tumbling and somersaulting, rolling and spiraling, laughing and giggling, until we spun so fast that together we became a single beam of light, soaring through space as a shooting star. Then, we decided to disappear beyond the veil, to explore another galaxy … but don’t worry, we’re never really far away, and we’ll come back to Earth to play, another day.

Ears that Hear

2011-06-26T06:18:00.000-07:00

From now on I pay much more attention to my own cycles and aligning with those of Mother Earth. There is a whole natural world out there that I was intimate with as a child. Every seed in the milkweed knew my name, and I'm now re-connecting with Mother Earth on profound levels. My relationship to my own inner depths is reflected in my deep connection to the beauty and mysteries of Mother Earth. From now on, I'm not conforming to socialization standards that others try to impose on me. If I don't want to go to a party where people are boozing and getting high ... I'm not going. I would much rather hang out at dusk listening to the sounds of Mother Nature. The cricket song; the silent, graceful, glowing dance of fireflies; the gently lapping waves of an intimate inland lake: these soulful sounds are much more pleasing to my ears than ever before. This is one of the benefits of saying "so long" to youthful, external, materialistic pleasures. I don't desire the "party-life" anymore, and am deeply content with this inner shift. Nature is a contemplative playground for me and I receive messages from her all the time now. Every animal, bird, tree, flower, plant, scent ... is a revelation, and they all speak to me metaphorically. I wonder, if someday, the communication will cease to be metaphorical and become DIRECT -- from their consciousness to mine? I believe this is already starting to happen. It excites me to think this is possible. I'll start by choosing a flower, tree, or plant, and just sit quietly with it while listening closely. If I practice this, I wonder, will I develop "ears that hear" -- as Jesus spoke of?

Spirit Cave - a monologue

2011-06-25T15:57:00.000-07:00

I believe in Magic -- not the Hogwarts kind -- but the kind that sees a tree spring from a seed, a fetus emerge from a womb, OR -- Spirit ENTER a womb.

I am Spirit and I am spiraling, flying through crystalline tunnels in the Earth, heading toward the Cave of Creation -- to the place where we are all born and Re-born.

The most magical of places is the Cave, Kiva, the Womb of Mother Earth, the Womb of Woman.

It is a place of entering in, a portal for Spirit, a Sanctuary, a place of inner transformation -- where I gestate and incubate my destiny, deep within the mystery, and DREAM a life in to being.

My womb is a Gnostic Mystic, like Mary Magdalene, a Priestess of deepest knowing, a CHALICE for radical shifts in transformation. My womb is a Universe unto itself, and navigating the cavernous places of my being is like journeying in deep space.

My womb is ALIVE, FERTILE, ABUNDANT!!! and it vibrates like a Tibetan Singing Bowl, harmonizing itself into the Mystery of Me.

Why do we tell stories?

2011-06-05T07:03:00.000-07:00

Stories allow people to create emotional intimacy. In the old Celtic Druid tradition, there is a phrase: "Anam Chara." Anam means soul and chara means friend. A soul friend was someone you could bare your soul to and they either counseled you or just listened without judgements, (and they didn't run screaming from the room when faced with your nueroses and insecurities.) Your soul friend accepted every part of you - knew every bit of your soul, and they fostered you, guided you for as long as they were alive. We tell our stories from a deep need to be heard, accepted, and loved for who we are. Telling our story affirms our existence. If we stop telling our story, do we cease to be? So, even if you need to create a new story (because the old one is soooo done), we should never stop telling our story, as the spider never stops spinning its web. For the story we tell becomes the foundation for our reality.

Darkness Redefined

2011-03-24T22:54:00.000-07:00

Darkness needs to be redefined, not as a state of non-light or something negative, undesirable, or frightening -- but as a state of non-being, formlessness prior to creation; to be or not to be; light/dark is not so much about an either/or (duality) mentality as it is about the Merging, Uniting of energies. The idea or potential of anything already exists within the warm, gestating waters of darkness, the primordial chaos, the state that must be returned to before a new order can emerge. Light contains the information that the seed/idea needs in order to become “form” - and the dark is the 'home' where things simmer, stew, brew, gestate, and are nurtured so they can grow, heal or expand. The dark is a good, benevolent place like a warm, wonderful, welcoming Womb. :)

Victorian Love Poem

2011-03-11T22:07:00.000-08:00

She prepares her wild soul,
with lilacs and lack of fear.
Her heart yearns for a home,
she feels it coming near.

“Come softly, beloved,” she beckons,
“lay your burden upon my breast
scented with lavender
for your weary head to rest.”

Heaven on earth,
her body worships thee,
with kisses sweeter than wine,
God of her idolatry.

Thy soul she will tend
til death and beyond.
Take this poem
as pledge of her love-bond.

Piper Methysticum (Mystical Poetry)

2011-03-10T11:17:00.000-08:00

Piper Methysticum
by Kathryn Preston

Archetypal lovers
come and go
ebb and flow
like lava on the move
glowing crimson
volcanic
voluptuous
dark and daring,
inviting
Concubitia
to propitiate the gods
in ritual passion,
activating the mystical umbilical,
a secret passageway
connecting past and present,
uniting opposites,
in ecstatic eruptions
and solar distortions
in a 3-D world
simultaneously
going global
and collapsing,
unmasking
economics and
plate tectonics,
paradigm shifts breeding
chaotic dynamics,
jazzy fusions of duality:
Nietzschean and Anarchist
Ubermalcontents and Bolshevists,
dandies and dykes,
poets and propagandists.
Where do I fit?
How to be
fundamentally me
and put my love into action -
that is the question.

Freedom to choose

2011-02-24T22:13:00.000-08:00

when our world has gone beyond the current turmoil and chaos of change, I want to see the whole world existing in a reality where each person has the freedom to choose exactly what his/her own version of paradise would be, and to have ...the means/resources to follow that bliss. AND IF SOMEONE TRIES that reality and finds it not to his liking, then by all means, he should be able to experiment, improvise, and tweak reality until he/she finds her true bliss.
Amen brothas and sistas!

2011-02-07T18:53:00.001-08:00

A Celtic Solstice

The Celts are my ancestors, but I have known precious little of this heritage as all my familial bonds were severed in childhood. I know I was named for my paternal grandmother, Kate O’Shaughnessy, who moved to Canada from Ireland to escape genocide via famine induced by the British government. There she met and married Carl Preston. Preston means “priest town.” Apparently, in twelfth century Scotland, there was and still is a town named Preston, run by a group of Catholic priests. Eventually the pair moved to the Adirondack Mountains of upstate New York where I was born.

My life seemed to be in a state of chaotic-limbo, so I took the opportunity to do some digging into the history and mythology of “my people.” I use quotes around the phrase “my people” because I have never really felt the fervor of a nationalistic identity. I grew up in a foster home where African-American, Native American, Irish-American, you name it - were all my brothers and sisters. I didn’t realize it then, but I see now that there was hidden treasure in the hardships of life as an orphan. Considering people from all walks of life to be my kith and kin has led to a world- view that is inclusive of all human beings and all life.

For much of my life, however, I felt like an outsider in my own culture: a culture that takes many of its ideas of civilization from a Greco-Roman world view. Interestingly, the name “Celt” comes from the Greek word “Celtoi” meaning “stranger” or “outsider.” For many years I found a “home” in the theater. Migrating across America, performing plays, writing poetry, and maintaining an ancient oral tradition that I had no idea I was part of. Today I am a writer, poet, actor, singer, and somewhat of a mystic. Since I was not in a position to learn this behavior from my parents, I have surmised that these gifts can only have been passed down through the ages from the original Bard by means of genetics or Jung’s collective unconscious.

When I speak of the “original Bard,” I don’t mean Shakespeare (though I love his work dearly.) Contrary to popular belief, the term “Bard” is of Celtic origin. In ancient times, the Bard would perform his poetry during feasts, satirizing or glorifying his warrior tribesmen, while the Chieftain looked on. What appeals to me most about this character, the Bard, is that although he had a formidable intellect, and was an exquisite performer and public speaker, the real magic of his “critiques” lay within the intimate connection he had with each member of his tribe. That kind of kinship and connection steeped in history and tradition is what I have envied Europeans for all my life. Now, I realize that my ancestors were the fathers of Europe, and I am more connected than I ever realized. A simple flick of the switch inside my head has produced a connectivity heretofore unknown to me. This connection illuminates “ways of thinking” that I thought were unique to me, but is actually unique to the Celts.

It is a non-classical, Celtic mind that believes opposing facts can be equally right, and that a conclusion can be arrived at from a number of different directions. In contrast, it is the Greco-Roman mind that thinks in terms of strict order, hierarchies, beauracracies, squares, rectangles, and boxes. My thinking has always been much freer, more fluid, more abstract. Celtic art forms were inspired by the land and sea they loved so well. Their art, like their lifestyle, was about freedom of movement: open-ended curves and beautiful swells. Celtic art and music reflects a philosophy of freedom. I realize that what I am about to write is a rather romantic notion, and probably every orphan’s deepest desire, but I wish I could live with a tribe of people who love the land they live on as fiercely as they love one another. I met a native Irishman who describes a rural man as knowing and loving the land he lives on the same way he knows his lady-love. An Irishman feels the soil the same way he runs his hands through his true love’s hair. He is as familiar with the contours of the land as he is with every nook and cranny of his beloved’s body. If everyone honored the spirit of the land and the spirit of the feminine in this manner, there might be more “peace on earth.”

My research on Celtic Solstice rituals has provided me with illumination and guidance as to why my life seemed in limbo. Ancient Winter Solstice festivals consisted of four rituals:

1. Rites of mortification, austerity. This is the natural cycle we are in at this time of the year. The sun is in stasis. Sol = “sun,” and stice = “still.” There is a suspended animation that happens at the end of one cycle (death of the old), before the New Year (birth of the new sun/son) begins. This explains my feeling of limbo, but what is its purpose?

2. Rites of purgation: expelling bad moral or physical habits. Fasts, abstinence; getting rid of the old so the new can flow in. Then, having surrendered to austerity for the purpose of purification (preparing for the new ) we move on to:

3. The rites of invigoration, rejuvenation of energies. Ancients did this through ritual combat (much like stage combat of today); battles between death and life, old and new, winter and spring. And last but not least:

4. The rites of jubilation: comes from an overwhelming sense of relief that death has been beaten and the continuance of life has begun.

I believe that my world was turned upside down recently because it is only within the fertile ground of chaos that creation, renewal, and transformation can happen. I feel that I am on the verge of letting go of old ways that no longer serve me so that I may loose the chains that have held my heart in bondage. I am on the precipice, about to cross the threshold into that portal which is my own heart. I am about to discover a new world, abundant with possibility, as generations of fathers and mothers before me had done. Their journey was physical. Mine is spiritual.

As I shed my old skin and reinvent myself and my life, I also have a sense of advancing my ancestors’ legacy: to bring freedom of thought and new ways of being into the present moment; to create my life as the highest form of art, and to share all of this with others in the interest of Unity.

Re Spring Issue of Parabola 2011

2011-02-07T18:26:00.000-08:00

Reading the Spring issue of Parabola Magazine has given me new inspiration and understanding.
Jonathan Omer-Man describes my personal relationship with suffering via a hasidic interpretation of
the Jews' slavery and Moses' role in the scenario. He says : in the initial stages of their slavery, the Jews' coping mechanism (and mine) was to buffer themselves against pain, they suffered a loss of identity (as I did) and fell intoa melancholic non-action. They accepted slavery as their fate. Omer-Man says they felt wretched and alone, hopeless. (Been there,done that, too.) Then, Moses was the deus ex machinae. In order to provoke a shift inside them, Moses provoked the Pharoah into worsening their condition so that they would not be static anymore. The pain became so excruciating that they were forced to make a choice: "We don't want to live this way any more." Thus began the Exodus! I don't know about you, but I LOVE Parabola Magazine - it just clarified things for me. I had never heard this interpretation before. All I have to do is make the "shift," get off my duff and move -- no more hiding, no more buffering--make the change! Thank you, Jonathan Omer-Man, for sharing this wisdom. I love you!

Quest

2011-01-12T13:11:00.000-08:00

I have changed so radically - in the way I think and see life - as a result of this journey. It’s not right for me to try to squash myself back into a box that I no longer fit into. My intention is to expand as far as I can in this life, SPIRITUALLY. Now it is clear that I need to seek out people who are likeminded in a soulful way: interested in ancient wisdom-teachings from all backgrounds, who love Creativity and Nature. These are the folks who are my true tribe. I am forced to re-define “family” and what that will look like for me from here on out. I am not content to merely engage in spiritual dialogue on the internet whilst eking out a living in “drudgeryville.” I need to move on to find out where I belong. I need to find a new direction to move in. I need to find a group with common values that is committed to something larger than myself and my small concerns. Right now, I need what the ancient Druids would call a “soul-friend” (Anam Chara)who can help me narrow my focus so that I can begin to map out the next steps on my path; someone who understands the process of true transformation and transition, a support person who can help me keep moving along the path and not get stuck (as I know will happen if I continue to walk the path of the “lone-wolf.”) This is where all of my Friends come in. Is there an apprenticeship where I can learn how to take my intuitive, compassionate, and creative gifts and put them into some kind of practical, meaningful, and fulfilling use? I am praying with all my heart that I can achieve more intensity in the realm of bliss. It has been a long and dificult journey, but now I think I’m finally “coming home” to Myself. Thank you all for your kindness and generosity toward me. I REALLY APPRECIATE IT!!!
Kathryn Preston
1/12/11

UNITY by Kathryn Preston

2010-12-24T10:19:00.000-08:00

"Unity" by Kathryn Preston

There is an Irish band called, "Gaelic Storm Tree,"
and they have a song entitled, "Swimmin' in the Sea." A
partial lyric is "... the Earth is my home."
Since we are all born of this Earth, it is my belief that we
are all more the same than not. If you go back far enough in time ... eventually you will find that we all come from the same source.
The dividing lines
that we create in our loyalties, from sports teams to
political factions to extreme nationalism, are
illusions that keep us separate. It has long been a
dream of mine to live abroad, study different
cultures, and to generally feel "at home" in the
world, wherever I may go.
This dream is seriously being impeded by
corporate cronies' and their political policies.
However, I believe we are seeing the
beginning of the breakdown of corporate structures due to corruption backfiring.
Enron, BP and others are not only showing us our collective dark
side, but are also showing us how far our shift toward
materialism has taken us away from our collective soul.
The struggles in the external world are a direct reflection of the
struggle within each of us. I believe the world's
inhabitants are engaged in the archetypal story of the
prodigal son returning home.
The current era is
gearing all of us toward finding out who we really are,
which will create the path "home."

In the search for “who I am,” I have researched and experienced
tribal/indigenous spirituality and cultures, and have concluded
that my previous role as an actor in the theater was Shamanic in nature.
The Shaman essentially takes an inner experience and
performs it, with props, turning an internal
experience into an external experience for
participants and on-lookers. This creates a pathway
for collective healing and catharsis. This was the
thinking behind Greek theater. The Greeks
believed that catharsis was beneficial to all of
society and theater attendance was mandatory.
My time in the Theater was a starting point for inner
exploration. Infinitely interested in the
mysteries of the universe, questions of individual
purpose, and issues of healing, Acting was my
vehicle toward that end. Theater is more than an
intellectual excercise, more than entertaiment.
Theater is ritualization of the soul. As such, its
capacity for healing society's wounds and the aches in
our hearts is infinite. Acting and Improvisation lets us become so
intimate (with ourselves and the rest of humanity)
through empathy and exploration, that we begin
to understand others foibles, and thus, our own.
From this understanding, compassion is born.

As we
witness a world shaken by violence and trauma,
standing on the brink of seemingly never-ending war,
Compassion is crying out for release from
the shackles of our subconscious. As our awareness
becomes increasingly global, the values of understanding,
compassion, and tolerance are more and more in
demand. The demand will be supplied those whose vision
for our nation and our planet is life-affirming and
inclusive, rather than destructive and exclusionary.
Historically, in times of chaos, the Arts have
experienced a resurgence. It is my fervent belief that
a living, breathing Theater is needed now more than
ever.
Our planet is quite possibly in the throes of the
greatest cultural transformation, or paradigm shift,
ever known. If the U.S.’ mission is to
"light the way" to freedom, then the old ways of invasion, destruction,
occupation, and exploitation must begin to play a
minor role in this epic drama of ours. The U.S. must
be a true leader who commits to creating solutions
that benefit all.
The new, true leaders will be those who utilize
creativity,imagination, and compassion to create a new reality.
One of the ways that artists can serve at the
forefront of this revolution is by doing what we do
best. The roles actors play are Jung's archetypes of
the subconscious. The symbolic languauge of mythology and story
are the same thing our dreams our made of. The theater
and the actor serve as gateways for communication
between the conscious mind and the soul. The actor's
willingness to see others as a reflection of the self
creates a bridge between human beings. The actor's
ability to translate the myths of one culture to
another can create a bridge based upon the
commonalities that exist in the human consciousness.

Exploring and translating the myths of different
cultures allows us to understand what people believe
in and value. To that end, Impovisation may be an
increasingly effective tool for creating bridges between cultures.
Hearing others values,
and listening to why those values have been developed,
may lead us to discover that people we perceive as
being completely alien to us, actually have hearts
like ours that have been wounded, and they are trying
to protect themselves from further pain. I believe that
this common human story is the basis for most of the
agressive power-plays at every level of human
interaction in the world. Our deepest desires to
better our circumstances, to protect what is ours,
and to minimize pain for ourselves and our loved ones,
is a basic desire of people everywhere. Add to this
the possibility that we are all One, that everyone we
encounter is a reflection of some facet of ourselves, that our
"enemy" is actually our brother.
"Do unto others as you would have them do unto you,"
makes a lot of sense if we actually believe that "the other,"
the stranger, the enemy,
is really a facet of ourselves being reflected back to us.
Previous experience as an actor has taught me to
imagine the very thoughts that lead a person to behave
as he does. It has crossed my mind that in creating
the actual thoughts of another person, I have actually become
(metaphorically or literally) that other person. Some
say this is insanity... or perhaps… it just might be UNITY.

I believe that if two people are capable
of unity, then a group of like-minded people are capable
of it, and it is my greatest hope that the
whole world will be capable of creating such empathy
that fear will no longer be commonplace because
we will know each other’s
thoughts and hearts just by reading the smiles on each
others’ faces. Then, all the prodigal sons and
daughters (like me)will have returned "home."

The Kiva

2010-10-08T18:37:00.000-07:00

The Kiva
Riding in the El Dorado with the top down on that one-lane highway, her “baby” at the wheel, she felt a sense of expansion and freedom she hadn’t felt for a while. It had been way too long since she had been out on the open road and she was ripe for this trip. Her sense of adventure was open full throttle!
They were headed out to the Kiva in Marble, CO. National Geographic had sent them to get the story and photos. In this particular Kiva, no photography had ever been allowed prior to this moment in time. She had written a story, and he had provided the eerily intuitive photographs for Cowboys and Indians magazine that had won the stamp of approval of Colorado’s Ute elders. Permission to cover the Marble, CO Kiva was now being granted to them by a local Ute tribe because they had proven their ability to “become native,” to get inside indigenous ways of thinking and being, and to truly understand and empathize from the inside-out. The two of them, the writer and the photographer, saw it as part of their unified mission in life to portray these beautiful people as the allies to humanity and stewards of the Earth that they truly are, and to illuminate their ancient ways of knowing in an attempt to create an alternate consciousness to the current forces of destruction being pursued by the rampant, self-absorbed consumerism of the patriarchy. Liberating indigenous peoples whose wisdom comes largely from inner, intuitive faculties is also an effort to liberate the divine-feminine principle that has been suppressed for over 2,000 years. And she knew that freeing the feminine from mental slavery is freeing herself. As Lilla Watson, the aboriginal activist said, "If you have come here to help me, you are wasting your time. But if you have come because your liberation is bound up with mine, then let us work together."

To say that she was Nancy Drew to his Hardy boy sounds a little old-school, but they could not wait to investigate! The stories and images they collaborated on were nothing short of magical. She was forever mystified by him, the photographer, who could convey multiple layers of information on many levels of consciousness through one image. He thought in abstract images, which in her mind, was very much like indigenous peoples’ ways of knowing: like the Lakota Sioux elder who had reportedly “seen” the arrival of the white man’s “iron horses” (locomotives) before they ever set foot on the continent, the photographer was her very own “noble savage.” To her, he was a vessel for the Muses, an open channel through which the universe could express itself, and he was a compassionate human being, to boot. In other words, he was everything she hoped she could become.

2

This current assignment was exactly what they wanted their lives to be about. She had shown him a childhood photo of herself, nose buried in a book entitled, “Magic Tricks!” She thought that this snapshot was as close as one could get to a photograph of her soul. Over the years, she had come to believe deeply in real magic. Not the “Hogwarts” kind, but the kind that sees a tree grow from a seed, a fetus emerge from the womb … and she never ceased to be amazed by the genius of the designs behind our natural earthly systems. To watch lightning as it strikes in the sky and think how similar it is to the flow of lava running down the side of a volcano, or a mountain stream flowing to the sea, or to
the blood that runs through our veins, or the veins of a leaf, or the branches in a tree, and on and on. These energy flows are all so similar. What do these similarities tell us about the “Truth” or the “Source” behind it all? This was something she’d like to ask a native elder.

As she ruminated, the warm desert sun and wind caressed her like a lover, and left her feeling warm, open, beautiful and loved: like a good lover should. She thought about the symbolism of the Sun in Native American and other cultures: “Father Sun,” representing masculine energies. “Masculine” in this sense having nothing to do with gender, BUT referring to action-oriented energies rather than activities like listening or gestating ideas, which are traditionally “feminine” energies. She mused that this man, whose shoulder she was now resting her head upon, was like the Sun, a life-affirming force with whom she knew she could grow. She, on the other hand, was more a symbol of the feminine, receptive energies: incredibly intuitive, imaginative, a good listener, always brewing ideas to be birthed at a later time. She knew that he had appeared in her life at the right time: just when she had become aware of her need to honor the masculine energies within herself. Yes, he was her love, but he was also a teacher sent by the universe, the Creator, the Great Spirit, or God. He would never say that he was a teacher because he didn’t feel that he was. She, however, knew that he was teaching her to be more action-oriented. Not action-oriented like a bull-dozer who moves forward with no consciousness about how its progress affects others or the environment, but action-energies that are tempered with compassion (the feminine), rather than tyranny (the human ego run-amuck). He was teaching merely through being who he was. She knew that she had a singular tendency to focus only on the intuitive, inner states of being, because she concurred with what Carl Jung had said in his autobiography: that the inner world was equally as fascinating as anything happening in the outside world. She knew she needed balance, though. She needed to get more active in the physical world about bringing her ideas to life. In many cultures, there is a saying: “when the student is ready, the teacher will appear.” It was this frame of mind that she was in when she decided to march right down to National Geographic and apply for a job as a staff writer. She had had the awareness, and knew that someone would now appear. And lo and behold, who should appear when she was given her first assignment? The photographer. The moment she met him, she knew who he was. But she didn’t say anything for quite some time because, as we all know, it takes men a little longer to catch-on to such things. And it was better for him to realize it in his own time. And time is something that we all have more of than we think we do.

3

To the photographer, she was fair of face, easy on the eyes. Anyone could see that. What others might not realize at first glance is that her spirit was as voluptuous as her physical form. He saw that she was a child of nature and he loved that about her. She had a connection with nature that turned something on inside of her, something primal, transcendental. He loved that she could go out into the woods alone for hours and come back to read him the most amazing poetry that she had written while out there
communing with the Muses, the woodland fairies, ancient spirits, or whatever you want to call it. Whatever that something was … she was connected to it. She created
magic for others, and he adored her for it. He felt it was his job to protect her from human parasites that would prey on her and take advantage of her good nature. This had already happened to her many times before she met him. He also knew that she could be hard on herself because she had unconsciously taken on the role of her calloused childhood care-takers. She had a terrible time trusting people. He understood this and saw that she was becoming more aware with every passing day. The more aware she became, the more the distrust seemed to disappear. His unconditional acceptance of her had helped her immensely and he knew she needed that. He was a wise person and remained non-reactive. He understood the fundamental duality of the universe and knew that because we are all mirror images of the universe, we all contain this duality as well. He gave her space when she needed it, and knew that when she was ready and had processed whatever was troubling her, she would return renewed, having spent time alone with her spirit. She had purity and passion all rolled into one. He knew that Beauty, as an expression of divinity, was the thinking behind the painting of the Sistine chapel and she personified this aesthetic for him. She was his very own Venus-incarnate.

The moment they arrived at the Kiva, a shift in consciousness hit them instantly. Like a scene in a Castaneda novel where Carlos receives a smack in the back from his mentor Don Juan Matus, propelling him into a new dimension, they had landed in another reality. A Ute elder greeted them at the entrance to the Kiva as dry red dust from the surrounding hills swirled around the trio like spirit dancers or whirling dervishes. The guide seemed young for an “elder,” but they both knew that he must be very well respected by his tribe in order to have been chosen to guide them. He introduced himself as Swift Eagle, or “Swifty” for short, and he invited them to join him in a cleansing, purifying ceremony called Smudging. Before entering the kiva, he burned some sage sticks tied in a small bundle and used an eagle feather to fan the purifying smoke around their heads and around the perimeter of their bodies. The duo held hands, closed their eyes and took long luxurious breaths, inhaling the scent of the sacred herb. Swifty explained softly that the way we breathe is a metaphor for the way we relate to one another on this planet. Short, staccato breaths equate with quick, superficial encounters. Long, deep breaths indicate taking ones time to listen and relate. The writer in her observed that Swifty’s skin was like a road-map of the local terrain. The dryness of the desert had carved deep grooves into his reddish-brown skin as wind and water had carved deep canyons and valleys into Mother Earth.

4
Properly purified, they began the descent into the kiva. The photographer knew that his soul-twin was noting the symbolism of every moment. He remembered her telling him that according to Jungian analysis, descending stairs in dreams represents entry into the world of the unconscious: dreams, archetypes, and the collective knowledge of all our ancestors’. He knew she was thinking about this as they descended the stairway, and he looked at her with a knowing smile as he squeezed her hand.
They were inside the most magical of places, the Kiva, the cave, the womb of mother Earth. The place of entering in. Dark, dank, and mysterious, a sanctuary. A place of transformation. Swifty suggested that like the female womb, the kiva was a portal for spirit to travel from one reality to another.
They sat on the cool, red earth as Swifty built a fire. He explained that he was going to chant some prayers in his native tongue to invoke spirit helpers and that the two of them were welcome to vocalize as well, in whatever fashion they chose: words, prayers, song; as long as their intent was to call for guidance from Spirit. Our heroine was not only a writer, but fancied herself a singer as well, and she began to improvise vocals that were hybrids of Lakota tunes and South African rhythms she had heard before. The photographer added to the cacophony by praying out loud for all the good things he wanted to happen for his family and friends. The acoustics in the Kiva were astounding and created a sense of euphoria that was exhilarating. She secretly wished she could have a recording of the chant because it struck her as improvisation, creativity, and spirituality at their finest. There was no need to even break them down into separate categories like that. They were all one. She sneaked a tiny peak at her love. His eyes were closed and he was smiling. They were both ecstatic. Soon, Swifty began to wind-down his chanting and they followed suit.
After a moment or two of silence, Swifty asked them to clear their minds and join him on a journey back in time. He chanted the word, “remember” over and over, for what seemed like an eternity, and she sensed he was entering a trance. He had asked them to allow images or pictures to enter their mind’s eye. For a while, she saw nothing and decided to just focus on her breathing. As she relaxed more deeply, she began to see quick flashes, like photos projected on a screen. They seemed to be images of the middle ages: castles, horses, sword fighting, lots of mud, and dreary looking weather. She thought that it was filthy, this locale she was seeing, and she wouldn’t want to live there. But just as she had this thought, Swifty said softly, “try not to judge what you’re seeing. Just observe.” (A bit eerie how he seemed to know what she was thinking.) Soon the images became like a movie, and she had the feeling she was watching a story reminiscent of Joan of Arc, messenger of God. She found this interesting because the mythology behind her own ruling planet, Mercury, is that Gemini (her zodiac sign) is the “messenger of the Gods.” To her, synchronicities are like signs or clues from the universe that one is on the right path, in the flow, indicating that your soul’s purpose is on-track.

5
She felt that relating information about, or from “the divine” was part of her life’s purpose. She was a spiritual devotee, but one who believed that all paths lead to the divine, even those that seem dark or difficult. Sometimes humans can be so dense or preoccupied with trivial, mundane things that the universe has to create tragedy or some type of pain or hardship in order to wake people up, so that we learn the lessons we came here to learn and move to the next level of consciousness. She thought about how dense she must have been because it had taken a lot of pain, years of it, in order to absolutely break her heart in a manner that would force it to stay open and let love flow freely in and out. The biggest mistake she had made was making the pain a part of her identity, believing herself a victim. However, in the end, Pain had been transformational and she had cocooned herself from society for a while in order to really heal. Emerging from the chrysalis of healing, she felt that new life was beginning inside of her; she was seeing life from a new vantage point. She was feeling free these days, but the price she had paid for that freedom was not unlike that of a soldier at war. In the end she became so fed up with being in pain that she had gathered up all her force of will and changed her life. Pain is one of the most powerful teachers that we have in this life. Transforming that pain into compassion via empathy is the greatest triumph of the human spirit. Further, transforming empathy into action that, according to Nelson Mandela, "respects and enhances the freedom of others" is a soulful goal that can lead to an alternate reality of unity, rather than one of fear and domination. She knew well from personal experience that sometimes one has to go through darkness in order to find the light. She knew, from having gone deep within herself, to places where most people fear to tread, that light and dark, masculine or feminine (or any opposite energies) exist within one another, not separately. One is not good while the other is bad. The purpose of life is to integrate these opposing energies within ourselves … sometimes a lonely and daunting path … sometimes alive and ecstatic. Like now. She couldn’t wait to hear what her love was experiencing.
He was seeing a lot of black. The darkness reminded him of outer-space. He thought about all the times they’d gone camping and stared up at the night sky, the stars, the cosmos, and felt something sublime, an affinity, recognition that “outer-space” exists within himself. He had first gotten in touch with his “inner-space” while taking acting classes in college. He had gone so far inside himself as an actor attempting to portray another human being that he felt he had gone to another place, a place beyond himself, beyond empathy, where he could tap into universal consciousness. There were these moments he had had onstage, where time stopped and there were no thoughts, only being.
But he never heard his fellow actors describe any such experiences, for them it was all about the ego, and after a while that superficial quality led him away from acting to seek
others like himself. He had found the love of his life, his soul-twin through photo-journalism, and together they were seeking a community of like-minded souls, which is what had led them to this very moment. The blackness had turned into a swirling purple haze, the color of spiritual “sight.” He saw images of bats: sleeping, flying, hanging upside down. Later, Swifty explained that bats are symbols of transformation, a reflection of what is transpiring deep within the psyche.
6
Swifty said he was going to blindfold the duo for their climb back up the ladder and their re-entrance into ordinary reality. The blindfold represented the veil between the worlds. When they reached the top they would begin to see life anew with the insights they had gained in the Kiva. When they got to the top of the ladder, Swifty explained, it would be as if they were emerging from the womb of Mother Earth after a transformative experience in the Kiva. So, they climbed up the ladder and sat at the opening in silence until Swifty came up to take the blindfolds off. He asked them to each come up with an intention that they wanted to carry out into the world with them. He gave them each a candle, and as they were lit, Swifty asked them to speak their intention aloud. Verbalizing creates a vibration in the material world that is aids in bringing intentions out of the world of thought and into physical reality. As she spoke her intention, she became overwhelmed by a heightened sense of reality. She began to cry with the recognition of the sheer beauty of this world we live in. At that moment, she felt that everything in the world was perfect and beautiful and as it should be. She realized that even during difficult times, things are actually unfolding as they should. Sometimes difficult events in our lives help us see where we have gotten off-track, or they give us the experience we will need to deal with what lies on the road ahead. But it was this feeling that everything was as it should be that filled her with wonder. She knew that she was the source of this feeling and the key to manifesting this as reality. The more she intentionally and frequently she tried to create this feeling within herself, the more it would become her waking reality instead of simply a dream. Whoever said, “Life is but a dream” was onto something! And if the two of them could find a community of people that were truly interested in doing the same, then they really could create a little bit of heaven on earth. It’s like Margaret Mead said, “Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed citizens can change the world. Indeed, it is the only thing that ever has.”
She thought about this man by her side and what an absolute miracle it was that he appeared in her life: her mystic man, her best friend, partner, and fellow mischief-maker. If she were to interpret her life as a waking dream, she realized that he was a mirror, a potential version of her being reflected back to her by the universe. All the things she wanted to be had shown up inside of him, and she knew she was on the right path. Loving him was loving the deepest parts of herself, and in turn, loving the source that created us all. Suddenly, she remembered a line from a play that she had done when she was in high school. The play was that old chestnut, “Our Town,” and Emily Gibbs asks, “Does anyone ever realize life while they live it? Every, every moment?” And she was now sure that there were people who did. Thornton Wilder may have been one. Swifty may be one, Buddha, Jesus, the Dalai Lama, Ghandi, Martin Luther King, the avatars in India. She longed to be like them, to fully realize life and her soul’s true purpose.

Inner Genius

2010-10-06T13:01:00.000-07:00

"In ancient times, everyone was considered to possess inner genius. It was a kind of guardian spirit that accompanied a person through life and helped one overcome odds and achieve personal heights. We've lost touch with this original meaning of genius (related etymologically to the fabled genie in the lamp) in all our concern over IQ testing and similar nonsense. It's time we brought it back."
Thomas Armstrong, PhD

Recently, a man who had read part of a play that I am currently writing, asked me: "how can this character claim to be "every-woman"?! If she can be "everyone," then what is to stop me from being you or you from being me?" To which I replied, "Exactly!"

Exploring this question is what motivates my very life and has led me to explore and experience myself as a poet. It occurred to me recently that years of experience in the Theater as an actor helped me develop me the very tools I would need to tap into the "poet within." It would seem that in terms of my own evolution as an artist and a human being, I am no longer happy to merely regurgitate and interpret other people's words. I have a compelling need to discover my own "voice" through poetry, which for me, is a spiritual journey.

Ever-fascinated by all subjects esoteric and mystical, I feel I am exploring the pathways that connect us all through poetry. When people say that we as a human race are "one," I believe that. I feel that by exploring the poetry that exists with in me, I am actually practicing a form of ancient Gnosis where the self is the ultimate portal to higher consciousness. The adage "know thyself" is Gnostic and contains more wisdom than people realize. Through the relationship I have created with the deepest, most cavernous places of my own being, I am learning to navigate my own inner labyrinth, and in doing so, seem to have found a portal, a tunnel that seems to lead me to a universal consciousness.

As an actor, I sometimes had what I like to call "quantum moments" onstage where I was able to exist for a few moments in a state of consciousness where it seemed that the "I" that was fearful and small and separate, no longer existed. In these moments, the "I or "me" that has a distinct form with visual and physical boundaries, would fall away and be momentarily forgotten, like I imagine an out of body experience might be. I focused my attention so deeply inside myself that there was only consciousness and a sense of calm and contentment. In every-day life we seem to buy into these walls and boundaries that show where you stop and I begin, to say this is where my country ends and yours begins, to state: "this is my home, not yours." Or, we observe these lines that tell us this is my skin, and that is the bark of a tree, and they are not the same. Many spiritualities teach that this thinking is an illusion, that the tree and the human, the bark and the skin, are facades in this 3D world of form that mask the consciousness that lies within. It is consciousness that unites us all. There really is no separation. This is the greatest fallacy, or dilemma, facing the human race, preventing our evolution, and allowing us to stay under the control of an elite few who know that if they keep us distracted from our true power via media and marketing, we will never tap into our true potential as spiritual beings. And by subjugating our own power, we enable them to remain in control, and allow them to continue the patriarchal profanity that they call "reality." Television and all of the gadgetry that creates constant noise, prevents us from hearing our own voices, our own wisdom. This wisdom begins to ring out loud and clear when we tap into the silence of our being. Poetry is but one means of tapping into that eternal source of power and wisdom.
When others hear my poetry and respond to me with an embrace, I see that gesture as confirmation that I have tapped into that universal stream of consciousness that is available to all of us. I have gone so deeply inside myself that I have touched a place not unlike "deep space." I imagine this place to be Carl Jung's "collective unconscious" which refers to that part of a person's unconscious that is common to all human beings. Jung said that it contains archetypes, the language of dreams, and these symbols are manifested by all people in all cultures. These symbols are said to exist prior to experience and are instinctual.

Sometimes I access this symbolic language through my dreams. Some of my best work comes out of the symbolism of dreams. Sometimes I access this symbolic language while awake. I see pictures or images in my imagination and then try to translate them into words. Other artists translate their visions into paintings or sculptures. But, the medium that seems to best suit my nature is that of words and language. As an actor, I used visualization techniques to refine my performances in my head before performing them in reality. Now, I improvise dialogues in my imagination with characters of my own creation, and sometimes these visualizations become a poem or a play.

Conversely, I have also created poetry by first allowing my mind to quiet itself of all thoughts and dialogue, to become a "tabula rasa." Eventually, out of the darkness and quiet, pictures or images emerge, and flash across the movie-screen in my mind. (For this reason, this coming to know the quiet and darkness within, I am absolutely not "afraid of the dark." For what lies within the darkness can be illuminating. I know that what happens inside me is reflected in external reality. For instance, people often chastise me for walking by myself at night or for hiking alone. To which I say, "Pshaw!" for I know that walking alone at night or hiking alone is an external reflection of what is happening inside me - a reflection of my learning to navigate through, and becoming comfortable with, the darker spaces of my being . Jung called it "integration." It is the process of coming to know the yin and yang, the dark and light, the feminine and masculine energies within myself. The more I learn about and befriend the darkness within myself, the less I fear the "shadow" in others). Mining myself for the poetry within, allows me to observe images in the darkness of the movie -theater in my mind (my imagination). At first, I just try to observe the images without attaching any meaning to them or trying to "figure them out." I find that if I jot these images down in a journal, then put them aside for a few days, oftentimes the images will manifest in my waking world when I travel to a new geographic area I have not been to before; or I may meet someone while I'm running errands who says something that creates an "aha!" moment, and my mind jumps back to the image I saw while I sat in quiet contemplation and some meaning begins to evolve. Often, these "aha" moments turn out to be a clue to an answer I am currently seeking in my life, or, it can be like a breadcrumb, leading me down a new path in life. After a few days of allowing the images to gestate in my subconscious, I will actively free-flow associations onto paper. For me, writing it all out in long-hand feels organic. Then, after having written a page or two, when nothing else seems to want to reveal itself, I actively attempt to craft a poem. At this point, I can see a message beginning to take shape out of the free-flow. This process of crafting the poem is exciting, like solving a mystery.

In the past I have been inspired by Hemingway's terse, clipped, journalistic style of writing, and I let that inform my poetry. Efficiency of words is key in poetry. Also, as an actor, I am always inspired by Shakespeare, who knew not only the current vernacular-usage of a word, but also knew the etymology. Thus, when Shakespeare chose a word, he chose the one that would embody double-entendres or convey triple and quadruple levels of meaning. He was also a mystic. He knew the ancient wisdom of the cycles and rhythms in nature. He was often commissioned by Royals to write plays, but within these political plays one also finds the language of ancient alchemy, the tarot, and astrology - which all carry within them the language of dreams, archetypes, and symbols. Elizabethan audiences understood this language very well as the more intuitive forms of knowledge were still within their ever-day lexicon. Shakespeare's plays were poetry. Poetry is alchemy. And the purpose of alchemy has always been a search for the mystical correspondences between the material and the immaterial.

Kathryn Preston

Child of Nature gets Deus ex Machina

2010-10-05T16:40:00.000-07:00

When we last checked in with our protagonist, she was in Marble, CO at the Kiva contemplating the play “Our Town,” and the character Emily Gibbs asking, “Does anyone ever realize life while they live it? Every, every minute?” And she was sure that there were people who did. Thornton Wilder may have been one. Buddha, Jesus, the Dalai Lama, Ghandi, Martin Luther King, the avatars in India. She longed to be like them, to fully realize life and her soul’s true purpose.
Today, we find our beloved heroine standing in the middle of the North Star Nature Preserve near Aspen, crying. Elated and saddened at the same time, she feels so alive with the energy and beauty of natural-majesty all around her, yet feels her spirit being bludgeoned by this repetitious pattern of having to take meaningless jobs where she caters to people’s superficial egos and meaningless desires. What a waste of her talent and time on this Earth.

She is standing in the middle of Creation, at the edge of a pond, searching the protective peaks all around her, pleading with Jesus and all the ascended masters: "how do I create the reality that I want to live, the one where I am like Anne Labastille in Woodswoman, or like Drunvalo Melchizedek, who gave up mundane society and walked off Into The Wild to live in the mountains and forests? How do I get back to the Garden?”

Ever the rebel and freedom- fighter, she’s not even remotely interested in the never-never land reality of some glamorous second-home-playground to the rich and famous, but is soulfully and ardently enchanted with the thought of living in harmony with nature, in living simply, in living off the land, not taking any more than she needs, and enjoying the roses along the way -- like Henry David Thoreau. She knows in her heart she will be living her Truth when she is learning how to navigate wild terrain, living off the land, chopping her own firewood, because she never feels more alive than when engaged in a nurturing dialectic between Mother Nature and her own Wild Nature. How many times has she envied women who know all about herbs, berries, trees, and all the wild plants of the earth: which are edible? which are not? which are good for tinctures and medicinal uses? which make the best pies? To be able to read animal tracks and habits, to understand the cycles within cycles and seasons within seasons the way tribal peoples do. She has been longing for a teacher, a soul-mate, a miracle, a deus-ex-machina to appear and lead her to that cozy little log cabin in the woods that she yearns for. Not a log-home Mc Mansion, but a rustic one-room cabin, with a woodstove and enough room for herself and her fellow mischief-maker; a place of simplicity and clarity from which to learn the ancient ways.

She recalls days in childhood when she was taken to the woods to cut down trees for firewood, calling “Tim-berrrrr!” at the top of her lungs; the gorgeous scent of pine-soaked days making her ecstatic; days spent gathering sap in buckets to make syrup; days in the forest picking blueberries; endless hours spent traipsing through the woods following myriad paths, seeing miracle after miracle … these have been her happiest hours on Earth.

As she hikes with reckless abandon, exploring a new and mysterious path, another like-minded soul shows up. She sizes him up and knows he is special because he radiates like warm sunshine and is wearing a feather, a secret sign to her that he will be a big part of the new chapter of her life that is being written at this very moment.

Like her, he is a writer: an imaginative, creative-genius, a visual-thinker. He lives in a log cabin in the woods where he pursues his love of writing and his desire to be one with nature with full fervor. After sharing the trail and baring their souls over countless hours, he stops her dead in her tracks and tells her that she is his best friend, and asks if she really wants to be free. And if she does, will she go with him and really do what they’ve been talking about doing? She doesn’t even hesitate. She smiles that secret smile. In her mind, she’s already gone. They are already deep in the beautiful woods, miles from anywhere, building their dream homestead, and they are oh so blissfully happy.

Red Fox and the Pathway Home

2010-09-22T11:52:00.000-07:00

Red Fox and the Pathway Home
by Kathryn Preston

The Full Harvest Moon illuminates

my wild inner landscape,

currently eclipsing the external world.

The Night is an

old kodachrome negative:

solids are light,

nebulous spaces, dark.

Sitting Indian-style on Mother Earth,

she asks the universe for a sign.

Suddenly,

A Red Fox trots,
stops,
and talks.

He brings a message from the Unseen.

"You live in the 'in-between,'

light and dark,

dawn and dusk,

following Nature’s musk

to the doorways of other worlds.

Listen.

Fox ears HEAR Spirit.

Close your eyes and listen.

I am your brother, and Like you

I carry all of creation within me.

FREE YOUR CREATIVITY.

This is your pathway Home."

I found the Real Rocky Mountain High

2010-09-08T13:48:00.000-07:00

Having grown up in the Adirondack Mountains of upstate New York, and having lived in Denali National Park, AK, I am mountain born and bred and love to spend hours hiking in the woods. It is the easiest place for me to tune into my inner-voice, Spirit, the Source, etc. One of my favorite songs that exemplifies this love for the woodlands is that of folk singer Buffy Sainte Marie: “My Piney Wood Hills.”

“I'll return to the woodlands
I'll return to the snow
I'll return to the hills
and the valley below
I'll return like a poor man
or a king if God wills
but I'm on my way home
to the piney wood hills.”

Looking for new territory to explore, I moved to the Roaring Fork Valley in the Colorado Rockies. The area I landed in, called the Sopris District, includes parts of the Collegiate Peaks wilderness area which contains more fourteeners than any other wilderness area in the lower contiguous 48 states, and perhaps more opportunities for “Coming Home” as John Denver sang in Rocky Mountain High:

“ Comin' home to a place he'd never been before,
He left yesterday behind him, you might say he was born again.”

I identify with these lyrics completely.

The red soil of the Rockies was something I had never seen on the east coast or in the midwest, but I had dreamed of it prior to setting out for Colorado. Based on this dream, I wrote a poem (below) which turned out to be a foreshadowing of my journey to the Rockies. A few days after writing the poem, I saw a documentary about an Amtrak passenger train that runs through Glenwood Canyon in Colorado, and knew I had discovered my chariot to the West. The canyon scenery is nothing less than the most spectacular geologic formations. A sense of history transported me back in time as I scanned the natural architecture of the canyon. I half expected to see ghosts of Ute elders emerge from caves to scale the canyon walls to serve as sentinels and stewards of this primal beauty.

With a desire to become a steward of the land myself, my first hike in the Rockies was filled with the scent of sage, bringing to mind memories of "smudging" (cleansing and purifying) ceremonies with indigenous peoples in Alaska and with the Lakota Sioux in South Dakota. With a mindset of ‘communion,’ I started up a natural staircase created by recent snowmelt. Hiking off the beaten path, just south of Glenwood Springs, it was still a bit chilly at the beginning of Spring, so I decided to head into the sun and higher ground (literally and metaphorically). Most of my hiking, prior to Colorado had been done in the old foothills of the Adirondacks, in the Shenandoah Mountains of Virginia, and some in Denali National Park, AK. In these places, my hiking experiences were more overland than straight up a mountain as it is here in the Rockies. It’s not just hiking, as some basic climbing skills are also needed. I learned to choose each hand and foot placement very carefully because, as I found out, what often appears to be solid - is not – on many levels.

Halfway up the slope, I stopped to take stock of where I was in the larger scheme of things, which is a good idea in life in general. However, when I stopped mid-slope to look across the valley to enjoy the glacier-sculpted splendor, I looked down and got an immediate case of vertigo. Before it could grow, however, I quickly shifted my focus and connected with the soil right in front of my face instead of what was above me. I lost my footing and slid down the mountain a few feet as it was the beginning of Spring and things were still wet and muddy. When I got to the top of the ridge the soil was so soft, dark, rich, and pristine, rather than rocky. I wished I was wearing moccasins so I would leave a lighter tread. I realized I had crossed a threshold into another world. I was in somebody else's turf. There were deer and elk tracks and scat everywhere. It looked as if a whole herd had been there recently. What if I came across of herd of elk? Would they know I was benevolent, or would I be trampled!? I decided to follow their tracks to see where they might lead.

Soon, there was snow everywhere; CRUNCHY snow. I thought, "every critter in paradise will know I'm here with all this racket." I decided to keep following the tracks into a ravine where there was no snow, but a lot of long grasses. Then I stopped cold. There was no sound, not even a bird or a squirrel scampering, nothing at all except for the slightest crackling noise. Was it the herd?! I bowed my head and listened acutely for the source. I followed the sound and it turned out to be the tiniest babbling brook I have ever seen. It was barely a trickle of water really, but it was the most peaceful sound I had heard in a long time, and it was the only sound. With greater attention, the sound became magnified as if I were inside it. I followed the stream to its source. I thought about the fact that the sound (the brook) had a source, and that the water itself had a source. I wondered if "sources" kept rippling outward (or inward) through the universe, leading back to the original source. The source of the brook was a hollow in the ground, filled with snow, embraced by the roots of a very old tree. As gravity did its thing, the most delicate brook was created. It made me think about the interconnectivity of everything and relationships in general. I'm willing to wager that the tree and the snow did not have to negotiate an alliance in order to create anything. They just exist. They exist in order to fulfill the purpose for which they were created. Living beings co-existing, each fulfilling its purpose, without any force or control being applied: Imagine.

Looking at my watch, I realized I had been hiking for four hours, but it seemed like only forty minutes. I love that about the mountains: the transcendental magic. The mountain and I make a great pair. We are equals. We share energy. Give and take. It’s a good relationship.

I never found the elk or deer herds that day. Instead, I found what I wasn't looking for. I've read that in ancient alchemy, the place where movement and stillness meet is called the "axis mundi" or "the center of the world." I think that I found the axis mundi that day.

Dream Reality
By Kathryn Preston

I escape the hullaballoo one day
racing down the highway.
Fields of sunburnt daffodils seduce my senses.
I abandon the straight and narrow
knowing I’ll find
what I wasn’t looking for.

Relaxing into the afternoon
under a surly Oak,
whimsical winds caress my hair.
Hypnotized by moody clouds,
I think I see my mother’s face.
Spooked, I run.
Tearing swiftly through tangled branches,
lupine ears upturned,
ancestral whispers strike my drums
like ancient amulets,
crescendoing to chaotic climax.
Trance-like, I am transported
through the crack in the universe
to another point on the continuum.

I climb a spiral stair into the void,
toward the unknown.
Emerging,
I straddle the brink of two worlds.
The vista: endless, undulating:
like fragments of earthenware,
sculpted by hands of ancients,
strewn across time.
While red earth flows through fond fingers,
My soul’s laughter howls across a full moon.

Kathryn Preston
Freelance Writer, 2004
Re-edited September 2010
Glenwood Springs, CO

The Old Druid by Kathryn Preston

2010-09-05T12:26:00.000-07:00

The Old Druid
By Kathryn Preston

To the Druid,
the Mighty Oak is King,
but the Pine Tree
does it for me.
Lovely Pine Tree
protects,gives privacy
to those who scamper
beneath her eaves.
She has no leaves
to drop in Fall.
All in all,
she stays tall and full
year 'round,
standing her ground,
whistling her sacred song
when the spirit we call 'wind '
comes along to speak with me
through the Pine Tree.

Her branches
reach toward heaven
seeking her boon
like an old Druid
'drawing down the moon.'

Surrounded
by precious Pines,
it's here I feel most "at home."

Nature as Metaphor

2010-08-20T09:17:00.000-07:00

Let's suppose, as Denise Linn did in "The Secret Language of Signs: How to Interpret the Coincidences and Symbols in your life," that I am a soul existing in the great dark void (before being birth into the material, earthly plane), and in all objectivity, my soul realizes that I need to learn humility in order for my soul to evolve to a higher level of consciousness. To this end, I engage another soul who is particularly loving toward me, saying, "I need to learn humility. Will you incarnate with me on Earth and play the role of my abuser?" This scenario, put forth by Linn, suggests that we have an existence prior to our earthly existence, and that we actually choose our roles, circumstances, and experiences on Earth before we ever hit that portal known as the female womb, the gate-way to human life. (Incidentally, have you noticed that people who have near-death experiences talk about the light at the end of the tunnel? I wonder if the "tunnel" out of this earthly experience at death is the same as the birth canal that is the tunnel into this existence? When we die here on earth, are we simultaneously being born somewhere else?) This scenario also contains the basic elements of Theater. My experience as an actor and writer has led me to believe that Theater itslef is a metaphor, a mirror, reflecting the underlying structure of reality. My entire being resonates with the idea that our souls are directors and playwrights, consulting with various "players" (soulmates) to establish a rough story-outline before arriving on planet Earth, where we then improvise the "meat" of the scene (our human lives). The point is to imagine that we are all here on Earth co-creating a cosmic drama for reasons of individual and collective soul-growth.

From this perspective, birth is not just the beginning of our existence on Earth, but in the larger picture, it is the process by which spirit transforms into matter for the purpose of evolving to a higher consciousness. This perspective also suggests that we have actually chosen the life we are leading, and the characters around us, for very specific reasons. Hence, none of us are victims. Coming from the perspective that we are spiritual beings having a human experience allows us to believe that we already have the ability to direct our lives toward ultimate soul growth. We are so much more powerful than we have been programmed to believe by unconscious (fellow) humans, and it is up to each of us to shake ourselves out of lethargy and complacency to remember who we really are and what power is truly ours.

There are multiple reflections of this theatrical metaphor in the world of men and matter. Whether it is children playing "pretend" in order to explore their developing powers or to try out possible roles in the world of adults, or grown men acting-out their interior conflicts by projecting their fears onto "others" in the world, we humans create drama. Drama is conflict. The only way we humans seem to learn anything of any importance is via struggle. Moving through conflict, we come to new levels of understanding. If we understand the basic premise that life is a mataphor for larger spiritual realities, then we can begin to "see" reality in a different manner. Just as almost every word that Shakespeare wrote carries a double or multi-layered meaning, we humans must begin to see our world with the eyes of the soul, to behold actions, behavior, and events as double-entendres. Just as ancient Astrology, Runes, Tarot, Alchemy, etc. use symbols to convey esoteric meanings, we must behold every-day events as symbolic of a larger esoteric reality.

To illustrate my point, I will relate a 'drama' that occurred in my life and my esoteric interpretation of the event. A few years ago, I arrived in Colorado seeking the guidance of a spiritual teacher. What I found was a sexual predator. At that point in time my story was enacted for me in nature because it is not easy to see our own story from an objective vantage point until it is presented externally for us. A week or so after I had been raped, I went into the woods, looking to Mother Nature for her special brand of nurturing and healing. As I hiked, I enountered three deer. Two of the deer were on the hillside above me, obviously awaiting something, looking in my direction with great intensity. I knew they were aware of me but they didn't move away from me as I expected them to. I lay down on the ground watching them for ten minutes, but they didn't move. I decided to move forward on the trail. I had only taken two steps when something rustled in the brush beside me! It was a deer that had been hit by a car and was dying in front of my eyes. As I didn't want the poor soul to suffer any longer than necessary, I ran back to my apartment, called the CDOW and gave them the location of the deer. Then I returned to the deer and sat with it as it neared death. I have never seen anything quite so profound. The deer glared at me with a highly potent mixture of wild-fear and self-protection. At the same time, the deer was becoming so weak that as its eyes bore through me with laser-like intensity, its neck muscles began to weaken and wobble in slow, concentric circles. I have never, before or since, seen such a display of strength and vulnerability at the same time. The CDOW representatives arrived and mercifully put the deer out of its misery. Secretly, I knew that this drama was intended for me to "see." I understand what indigenous peoples know: that the earth and its inhabitants are reflections that teach us about ourselves. I knew that the deer's death was a reflection of what was happening to me internally. I was witnessing the death of a part of myself, my old personality, and the old ego patterns. I wept bitterly for the deer and for myself. I had seen the utter terror in the deer's eyes before it's death and knew that the fear was my own, for I did not know what trials awaited me on my journey (initiation) through the “valley of the shadow of (symbolic) death.” However, I now know that my old persona had to die in order to allow my spirit to be guided by the ultimate spiritual teacher, my own soul. This Spring as signs of new life appeared all around, I saw three deer race down the hillside, hurdle a split-rail fence, and sprint through my backyard! They were full of vitality, excitement, and energy! I saw that they were a renewed reflection of me, that my time in the dark night of the soul had ended, and that I would soon emerge from my chrysalis to experience re-birth, resurrection, and transformation into a new life and new way of being.

If life on Earth is a cosmic drama, a reflection in matter and form of the unseen spiritual reality, then the seeker may begin to ask, "What is my role in this drama? What is the larger picture? Who am I?" At first it seems terrifying to not know who you are, to witness the deconstruction of one's own personality, but this is only because we have been so programmed and conditioned to buy-into incredibly narrow identities and limiting realities, based on marketing schemes and religious dogmas designed by people who want to turn us into a bunch of homogenous, zombie-consumers who will believe whatever we are spoon-fed. The people running this country do not want us to know our true, infinite, personal power because that would mean they would not be able to control our minds and by extension, our purse-strings. I have come to the realization that it is much more liberating to not know exactly who you are, because rigid ideas about identity stop you from experimenting, learning, and growing. If you already think you know everything, nothing new can break through your programming. Allow yourself to not know so that new answers will grow.

Listen to the voice inside you. Anyone who claims to be a guru or teacher is suspect. A true teacher tells you to listen to the wisdom with in you. Your dreams are part of your own inner wisdom and no one can take them away from you. Mine your dreams for the gold within. Discovering the mystery within my nocturnal dreams and learning to unlock their secrets is the very thing that kept me alive during my darkest hours of recovery from rape. Like Carl Jung in his autobiography, I have found that the world inside myself is far more interesting than anything happening in the often superficial, misguided, external world. The inner world is also the true portal to the cosmos. Outer-space is really the space inside us. People who poo-pooh others' spiritual beliefs because they don't coincide with their own thinking are petty tyrants. The saying, "do unto others as you would have them do unto you" was around long before the time of Christ. The pagans, adherents to nature-based spiritualities, observed nature and saw that when one person tries to control or harm another, they are only hurting themsleves, for they understand that we are all One in the larger scheme of things. If you go back far enough in history and time, we all come from the same place and we are all related. That is the natural order of things.

Shakespeare wrote: "All the world's a stage, and all the men and women merely players. They have their exits and entrances; each man in his time plays many parts." The phrase "in his time" seems limited (to life on Earth). What if "our time" is multifarious in terms of levels of consciousness, different planets as schools of thought, and infinite/simultaneous realities? I believe that if I can even think the thought that we are multi-dimensional beings with infinite powers, then the reality is possible. I am finding that when I operate from the assumption that my mind and heart together are capable of creating anything I want, then these things actually begin to manifest. This is the knowledge that the heirarchy of men, The Church, and the Establishment have sought to suppress for thousands of years. The process of Birth is not only the entrance of spirit into this physical plane, it is a physical metaphor that expresses the esoteric mystery, the formula for creation, and its blueprint lies within each of us.

If we stop thinking of the terms "Mother" and "Father," and "Masculine" and "Feminine" in terms of gender or genitalia, and start replacing these ideas with the more accurate definitions of the energies they represent, we can start creating a new understanding, a new paradigm. Father or Masculine energy = "willpower," "action," "sowing, planting." Mother or Feminine energy = "intuitive," "receptive states," "gestating thoughts, ideas, or seeds that are nurtured, cared for, protected until ready for birthing, manifesting, or becoming reality." The feminine is the energy or the vehicle that harbors new realities. The symbolism of Mother Mary holding the child Jesus is a metaphor for spirit having entered into the physical plane. The word "Christ" means "soul-directed." Thus, it is the spirit that is soul-directed that manifests new realities, that births new consciousness into being. My trauma, my “drama,” has been a spiritual path that has been instrumental in getting my spirit back on track by becoming guided by the soul instead of the ego.

Kathryn Preston

Deeksha Dreams

2010-08-09T15:53:00.000-07:00

This happened a few years ago in Colorado:

I had had extremely vivid dreams of John Brown, my ex-fiancee and first love, in the past four or five years, though I haven't seen him since 1990. When I lived in Carbondale,CO a few years ago, he came to me in a dream, as if he were right in front of me, and told me that I was “in recovery,” and that I would be ok. He also said to me (in a dream) that I had to let go of him so that someone else could love me. I remember being shocked because it had been so many years since we were together, and I thought I had let go.

I remember he nearly had a breakdown before he left me in Alaska to go home to Newfoundland when he graduated from UAA . He thought he was going nuts and didn't know if he was doing the right thing by leaving me behind. In those days, I was the strong one. I was his rock of Gibraltar. I assured him that I would be ok, and that he had to get on with his tasks of either training as a cross country skier for the Olympics, or going on to law school, and that I loved him no matter what happened, and would join him when I graduated. Until that moment, I had never felt anyone's love so strongly in my life. That he would feel so conflicted, that he felt he was going insane - no one's ever loved me like that - before or since. When I went to Newfoundland for Christmas and New Year's, he gave me a diamond ring. Later, when I was back in Alaska and lost weight, the ring fell off my finger and into the washing machine and was never retrieved, and I knew that was a horrible sign. Little did I know, he had already met someone in law school ... and the separation, distance and time apart was getting to be too much ... for him. I would have hung in there until .... So, in the moment that I was thinking about all this, I started sobbing, I had loved him so much. We were so good together. I felt like screaming. It hurt like hell to remember and feel the pain of his loss again, but I also knew that I had to allow myself to feel it fully in order to be able to let it go.

I read some physics recently that said that the smallest particles in the universe are not matter or light waves, they are bits of information, and that when one particle meets another, it leaves a part of itself - they each leave a bit of information with the other. Thereafter, the book suggested, there is always some form of communication that happens on a subatomic level. And I thought that this could explain the communication I received from John in my subconscious. I knew I needed help letting go. So, I prayed. I visualized myself interacting with Mary Magdalene. I imagined her with long dark, silky hair and bronze skin, with the most beautiful smile. I imagined her embracing me,talking and listening to me like a truly divine, compassionate, empathic mother would. I pleaded with her not to leave me, and begged her to help me. I didn't specifiy how. But, I knew that I needed to know how to let go. I needed to know how to remove the barriers in my psyche that keep me from trusting anyone else, that keep me from getting close to anyone. Then I cried myself to sleep.

And this is where it gets really interesting.

Later that night, I had a dream. In the dream, a WORD appeared very clearly. Although I did not recognize the word, I remember thinking while dreaming: "I have to remember this word and search for it on the internet tomorrow to find out what it means." Of course, the next morning, I forgot ... BUT, I worked from 10a until 7p, and when I got home, I opened the newspaper and looked at the calendar section inside the front page to see what events might be happening around town that evening. Lo and behold, I saw the word from my dream in the newspaper, and as soon as I saw it, a lightning bolt of realization hit me! I said, "Oh my God!" out loud five times, and got up to call the number that was in the newspaper. The word from my dream was right there on the printed page, and when I saw it, the dream came flooding back to me. Apparently this word, "Deeksha," alludes to the transfer of divine energy, and I view this dream and my subsequent reading of the newspaper as direct communication from the universe!

Transferring energy is a direct answer to my question about "how do I let John go?" I have been waiting for communication from the beyond my whole life! And today, the universe made sure that I GOT IT!

Crabtree and Delmhorst

2010-07-30T10:28:00.000-07:00

Special to the VJ by Kathryn Preston

Crabtree and Delmhorst bring a musical storm to Steve's

Steve’s Guitars impresario Steve Standiford, warmly hailed the return of acoustic musicians Melissa Crabtree and Kris Delmhorst to his intimate venue on November 19.

Crabtree, opening for the crowd with local guitar wizard Frank Martin providing accompaniment, did much more than just warm up the room with her thought-provoking, Woody Guthrie style of quietly revolutionary musicianship. She exhibited a wild-woman/tomboy quality that pushes the boundaries of what society considers feminine, a quality that seemingly runs in her family tree. “Anna Lee” breathed life into the spirit of Crabtree’s great aunt, exiled by the family for being a lot like Crabtree herself. Honoring her aunt’s legacy, she sang: “No one could ever whisper your name, but I can feel you winking at me from the picture frame.”

When she’s not touring, Crabtree is a river-runner. “Cat Fishin’” was written on the Delores River in Colorado, and displays what the over-thirties crowd might describe as a Nancy Sinatra, walkin’-boots-attitude toward life.

With the tune “A Message from a Soldier,” Crabtree embodies the mythological role of the “messenger.” She interviews a soldier headed for Iraq: “We started talkin’ ‘bout the Patriot Act. He said ‘I guess they got together to stab us in the back. But I should probably be careful ‘bout what I say cause if the colonel heard, he’d have ‘em take me away.’” Crabtree literally becomes the channel through which the soldier’s spirit can be heard.

There was a whole host of strong feminine spirits sharing the stage with Crabtree. Her vocals and finger-picking invoked the spirit of Janis Joplin in “Me and Bobby McGee” as well as Helen Reddy and “Delta Dawn.” The audience also heard an accomplished balladeer, the likes of Michelle Shocked.

Her reverence for free-flowing rivers is paid homage in “Muddy Waters:” “I have dreams, they’re always changing. My life always needs rearranging. But I feel at ease when I see the flowin’ water of the muddy Colorado.”

With the message that we must all aspire to create and sustain the world we want to be a part of, she is walking her talk, having toured the country in a bio-diesel automobile, and having produced a CD to promote the use of fossil fuel alternatives.

While Crabtree sings of man’s relationship to the Earth, her fellow Sagittarian Delmhorst sings of the relationships between men and women. Like Wuthering Heights set to music, Delmhorst’s lyrics probe the darker moments of relationships: “I’ve been dying this whole evening to just reach out for your hand. I’ve been trying to keep believing that I might understand. I know words fail you, and I know sometimes I do too.”

Even more tempestuous is “Hurricane,” evocative of Stevie Nicks’ “I have always been a storm.” Delmhorst sings: “Blow me down and leave me lying in your wake. Let it rain, let it pour, let it roar away. I’m holdin’ out my tongue for a taste of rain.”

In “Bobby Lee” there’s a sense of suffocating in a relationship, and the imagery is downright biblical: “This cave’s too dark for me…. I was only trying to roll the stone away.”

Emblematic of audience response that night, the man next to me started growling during “Waiting Under the Waves.” He said it was a reaction to the seductive Tori Amos-like way Delmhorst manipulated her breath.

Moving in circles and spinning are common themes for Delmhorst, conjuring images of a cyclone. In “Lullabye” she croons: ‘You have turned in circles all your life so your shadow wouldn’t show.” Likewise, in “Weathervane,” she sings: “I too can move the prairies. I too can move the sea. I’m gonna take that motion, take it right inside of me. No more spin around, spin around, spin around.”

“Little Wings,” a celebration of human moments in a corporate world, was dedicated to Steve Standiford, owner of the musical venue that evening, for sharing his warm and an authentic space for music-making.

Delmhorst left us with these words of wisdom: “No matter what you bought or sold, the only thing you’ll have to hold is the love you’ve loved and the truth you’ve told.”

Amen.

Eddie From Ohio

2010-07-30T10:27:00.000-07:00

http://www.valley-journal.com/article/20041111/COMMUNITY/922589012&parentprofile=search

Eddie from Ohio: Great tunes and a musical ‘legacy of hope’
Thursday, November 11, 2004
Eddie from Ohio: Great tunes and a musical ‘legacy of hope’

BY KATHRYN PRESTON

Special to the VJ

Patrons packed the house at Steve's Guitars last Saturday for the highly anticipated Carbondale premiere of Eddie From Ohio.

EFO's lyric-driven folk-rock, quartet harmonies, and urban/tribal rhythms lit up this small town with their world-class style.

Hailing from Virginia, EFO's first tune, “Virginia in My Eyes” evokes that end of a long road-trip feeling when the mountains rise up to greet you and you know you're in the home-stretch. “Walkin' in Jerusalem” is a traditional tune transformed into a bluesy-gospel, full of chutzpah!

Speaking of chutzpah, Julie Murphy-Wells’ lead vocals are quirky yet seductive. Always crystal clear, she belts like a siren on the bluesy “If You Love Me, Leave Me Alone” and growls like a lioness in the whacky ditty “The Bird,” a hilarious lament about road-rage. Her girl-next-door quality comes through on songs like “Baltimore” with its vulnerable honesty, and her tough-girl persona emerges on the darkly comedic “1,000 Sarahs,” winning the “angry-Alanis Morrisette-award.”

Speaking of awards, the band bestowed the “best audience participation” award on Carbondale for its enthusiastic interplay on EFO's version of the Beatle's “Come Together.” One of my personal favorites was the gritty break-up song “Adios, Lorena” which evoked shades of Johnny Cash, featuring Murphy-Wells and Robbie Schaeffer in harmonized song-speak.

Displaying his own professional prowess, Eddie Hartness, the drummer, performed a solo with one hand on the bongos and the other slamming his drum-set with his stick, creating a primal frenzy that rivaled Santana on speed! The only way it could have been better was if he had worn that thong! (Ya had to be there!)

Hartness also commented on the origin of the band's harmonies: “We started out playing stuff like Crosby, Stills, and Nash and the Indigo Girls.” Then, the band's harmonies evolved to a higher degree of complexity under Murphy-Wells' arrangements. She received classical training at Virginia Tech., while the guys went to James Madison University in Harrisonburg, VA. Murphy-Wells related that Hartness is a “natural Irish tenor” while Schaffer is “a classically trained bass.”

The band has a talent for comic satire with tunes like “Stupid American,” and “Loving Couples.” However, they become ultra-poignant with songs like “Einstein” telling us “ the faster you go/ the slower you grow/ until you're nothing at all” — a subtle reminder that while our country conquers other cultures, extinguishes other species, and destroys the very resources that sustain us, we are actually advocating our own demise in doing so.

Couple that with “This is Me” which suggests that pain and violence don't die with those who are killed in war, but actually live and grow in those who survive.

However, EFO lights the way to a brighter day with their closing number “Walk Humbly, Son.” Originally written by Michael Clem for his son, it could easily become the quintessential anthem for a new millennium, sewing the seeds of a new culture based on goodwill and unanimity.

Eddie From Ohio did more than merely entertain us, they left us with a legacy of hope.

(Kathryn Preston is a local resident who has been an actor, a voice-over artist and a freelance writer. She can be reached at kathrynshakti@yahoo.com)

Soul Feel

2010-07-30T10:26:00.000-07:00

Thursday, October 28, 2004
SoulFeel; charismatic, enigmatic, and ready

Editor’s note: The Valley Journal this week inaugurates a new feature, music and stage reviews by local writer Kathryn Preston. Preston, who has a stage and music background, can be reached at kathrynshakti@yahoo.com or by calling the VJ at 963-3211, extension 100, and leaving a message. Her reviews will be published periodically in The Valley Journal.

BY KATHRYN PRESTON

Special to the VJ

“Soulful” was the theme at the Black Nugget one recent Friday evening in Carbondale, as SoulFeel took the stage. An evening of freewheelin’ vocals, rhythmic dexterity, and lush harmonies made for a packed dance floor and a rhapsody of soul.

The harmonies of lead singer Brad Foster and Dobro master Brook Mooney are reminiscent of Simon and Garfunkel. Laying those harmonies on top of funk, psychedelic rock, delta blues, and even reggae rhythms, creates a hybrid, the music of SoulFeel seems to willfully defy any notion of niche.

Foster’s lead vocals range from a soft, but powerful Prince-like falsetto to a gravely bass, the likes of Dr. John or Louis Armstrong. Not bad for a 25-year-old white boy from Baton Rouge.

A highlight of the evening was the band’s rendition of Led Zeppelin’s “Whole Lotta Love,” with Foster gripping two microphones, giving a hauntingly Morrison-esque performance. When asked about his musical influences, Foster listed Jim Morrison, “and anyone else who has overwhelming charisma.” During “Relax Your Mind,” it was as if Foster were crooning his love to some imaginary sweetheart or to the music itself. It doesn’t get more charismatic than that.

SoulFeel took the audience on a road-trip, from a country road leading to Foster’s Grandpa’s house in Mississippi to Johnny Cash’s “Folsom Prison,” which refreshingly was not just a copy-cat cover tune - it seriously rocked the house!

Completing the band were Dane Wilson, a Glenwood Springs native, on drums; Kurt Radomski on Mandolin, adding a tinge of Appalachia; and Michael Jude (of Take the Wheel fame) sitting in on bass. Keyboardist Jeff Johnston was absent, as he is in Florida volunteering aid in disaster relief.

As one patron from Denver put it, “These guys are right on the fence!” meaning they are poised for bigger things. And, indeed, they are. The band plans to start touring regionally by the end of January, according to band manager, Erin Rogers. For upcoming tour and scheduling info, check out www.soulfeel.net.

Acoustic Mayhem

2010-07-30T10:23:00.000-07:00

Acoustic Mayhem and the Cohens warm it up at Steve’ Guitars

(In a continuing series of articles by Carbondale, CO writer Kathryn Preston, reviewing happenings in the local music scene, we bring you this account of a recent night at Steve’s Guitars. An unexpected cancellation yielded a night of enjoyment of the warm Appalachian sounds of a couple of local musicians, followed by the rabble-rousing harmonies of Acoustic Mayhem.)

BY KATHRYN PRESTON

Special to the VJ

Expecting to sit in with bluegrass band Sweet Sunny South, Andrea Early Cohen instead sat with her husband, Mathew Cohen as the members of S.S.S. were stranded in Paonia, CO with what Steve Standiford somewhat jokingly referred to as ‘whooping cough.’

Braving sub-zero temperatures, the pair warmed up the room at Steve’s Guitars on Dec. 3 with their soft Appalachian sounds.

The duo took the audience on a tour of instruments, cultures, and mythologies. Fiddling a frenetic instrumental titled, “Ellie’s Tune,” in honor of her cow-dog, Early Cohen was accompanied by her partner on a West African djembe drum. Switching mid-song to a Celtic bodhran (pronounced “bow-rawn”), Cohen musically displayed a few of the translations of the drum’s name: “tray drum,” “thunder,” and “soft, dull sound.”

Cohen then picked up his guitar for a playful homage to a “coffee buzz.” He expressed his gratitude for the stimulant singing, “There’s nothin’ in the world like your daily grind.”

The couple then introduced the audience to the didgeridoo, an Australian aboriginal wind instrument. The painstaking breathing process involved is fascinating to observe. The resulting sound is an extended hypnotic bass monotone. Considered the world’s oldest instrument at 40,000 years old, research reveals a gorgeous mythology associated with the instrument: “As the Gods play, dance, and sing, they create the world.”

Pulling another folk-music surprise from their bag o’ tricks, Early Cohen played her fiddle while her husband played percussion by tapping on her fiddle strings with fiddlesticks. According to scholars, the playing of fiddlesticks was considered “common” by the upper classes in Shakespeare’s time. This disdain can be found in “Henry IV” as The Bard writes, “The devil rides on a fiddlestick.” Linguistically, this explains how the expression evolved to mean that something someone just said was nonsense. However, the consensus at Steve’s Guitars that evening was that another delicacy had been added to the cultural smorgasbord offered that evening.

Another folk tradition, Clogging, a percussive blend of Irish, English, and Scottish step-dancing, was enthusiastically demonstrated by Early Cohen.

Mr. Cohen ended their set with the “dancing goose,” a variation of the limberjack. Cohen held a stick, with a wooden (goose) cut-out attached to it, over a dancing board he sat on. He used subtle pressure from his fingers to push the board down, creating a spring-board under the goose which caused it to “dance.”

An almost eerie synchronicity emerged as Acoustic Mayhem took the stage. They launched into a song about a mythological character called the Hoo-Doo. Elliot Leonard, on guitar and vocals, explained that the Hoo-Doo could be found in the woods or at the side of a road. “ … But they freeze like a deer on the headlights, so don’t slow down, just run that Hoo-Doo down.”

Interestingly, African folk legend says that Hoo-Doos appeared to hunters and planters in the forests to teach them the transformative properties of herbs, minerals, and other life forms. “Hunter’s Moon” incorporated this mythology as Leonard sang, “… and the spirits ride on the night of the hunter’s moon.”

The band — Craig and Lorraine Curry, Elliot Leonard, Lester Rogers, Marc Bruell, and Ken Carpenter — are heavily influenced by the Austin music scene and musicians like John Hyatt, Rodney Crowell, Buddy and Julie Miller, and Emmy Lou Harris. The band’s rabble-rousing harmonies hit their peak in the yodels of “Kansas City Star.”

The band’s covers of John Gorca, Mary Chapin Carpenter, Bruce Utah Phillips, and the Rolling Stones are both passionate and quietly thoughtful. These dual energies can also be heard in the rowdy, “Memphis in the Meantime,” skillfully driven by Curry’s cello, and in “This Old Porch” by Lyle Lovett, a slice of Americana that sounds a bit like Dan Fogleberg with a twang.

Craig Curry treated the audience to an impression of “Elvis,” a tune recorded by Jimmy Buffet under the name of “Freddie and the Fishsticks.” Elliot Leonard's poignant vocals on “Denver Diner” evoked strains of Harry Chapin, while “High Mountain Air,” written and sung by Leonard, recalled the clarity of spirit of John Denver. Marc Bruell’s violin playing displayed a sensuality that seemed to embody a medieval minstrel attempting to woo his mistress.

In the spirit of the giving-season, and in the tradition of indigenous cultures, it’s appropriate to give some thought and thanks to the music and music-makers that touch our hearts. In most folk /acoustic instruments the resonator is made of wood while the actual source of the sound is of animal origin. Once-living beings are now literally a part of the music. Their essences combine to create the songs of the universe.

Shakti and Shiva

2010-07-29T14:51:00.000-07:00

Shakti and Shiva

Lying beside you,
arm draped across your chest,
leg snuggled in your thigh,
I feel the rhythmic heaving and sinking
of your belly,

like waves on an
intimate inland lake
flowing in consistent , concentric circles,
disciplined in design
yet undulating with a soft sensuality
that sweeps aside my lack of faith.

Subtly synchronizing my breath with yours,
my lungs, my loins, my heart, my mind
expand
with the universe.

Within each wave
another rhythm,
a double-time syncopation,
containing seeds of passion
which build slowly
like a tidal wave
bursting open the temple door
setting our spirits free
like dolphins breaking the surface,
or soaring eagles.

In time,
the tide subsides
leaving deep peace
in its wake.

Wanton Irish Faerie

2010-04-03T07:46:00.000-07:00

I see people encased in fearful shells
living lives of tripping-tedium,
embedded in the ordinary.
Mine, however, is the vast, dark sky
and the spaces between the stars.
Unencumbered by riches or materialism:
Mine is the promise of Magic.

I see no reason to live
other than to be free.
Not caged by any loyalty
to political or national affiliations,
my life is only one facet of
a mystery much larger than
self or country.

Disappointments in love, loyalty, and trust
are merely a crucible
where in I crush the herbs of ego
into the fine dust of transformation,
creating the alchemical elixir of the Soul.

Now is the time to dance
naked and laughing and wild as a
wanton Irish faerie
in a jasmine sunbeam.

Flowing through the Unicorn's Horn

2010-03-23T09:51:00.000-07:00

Angels sigh with dewy breath
the scent of jasmine
as I surrender to this quasi-death
and ritual resurrection.

As I lay me down to sleep
reality melts away,
and flames in my soul do leap
breathing into the cauldron of my womb.

Behind closed lids,
the third eye perceives
a milk-white light;
a swirling vortex.
A mini-galaxy
spirals out from between my brows,
flowing through the unicorn's horn,
tenneling through time and space.
Eventually my pure essence emerges,
straddling a comet of quartz,

amplifying my desire to see
through the eyes of divinity.

Poetry

2010-03-12T14:16:00.000-08:00

The Ghost of Downtown Northwest D.C.
By Kathryn Preston

She’s the ghost of downtown northwest D.C.

Gothic Shaman,

Madonna in blackface.

Dragging her death-drapes

outside society,

beyond reality.

She sings and shouts her free-street-speech,

invoking urban-tribal rhythms

at aware but wary passersby.

Averted eyes, leering gazes,

some ignoring, others scolding.

Tell me, who has lost their humanity?

Who is this spectral soul,

haunting the streets

of downtown northwest D.C

and me?

Dream Reality
By Kathryn Preston

I escape the hullaballoo one day

racing down the highway.

Fields of sunburnt daffodils seduce my senses.

I abandon the straight and narrow

knowing I’ll find

what I wasn’t looking for.

Relaxing into the afternoon

under a surly Oak,

whimsical winds caress my hair.

Hypnotized by moody clouds,

I think I see my mother’s face.

Spooked, I run.

Tearing swiftly through tangled branches,

lupine ears upturned,

ancestral whispers strike my drums

like ancient amulets,

crescendoing to chaotic climax.

Trance-like, I am transported

through the crack in the universe

to another point on the continuum.

I climb a spiral stair into the void,

toward the unknown.

Emerging,

I straddle the brink of two worlds.

The vista: endless, undulating:

like fragments of earthenware,

sculpted by hands of ancients,

strewn across time.

While red earth flows through fond fingers,

My soul’s laughter howls across a full moon.

Sleep’s Soliloquy
By Kathryn Preston

Pining for her piper,

who’s composing passion’s play.

She’s longing for his star-song

like a maiden in the hay.

The tune that leaves her swooning,

the tune of this crooning,

Appalachian balladeer.

In her loins she feels hunger and pain,

will the lightning ever pierce the rain?

With ruby red lips

and buoyant boudoir hips,

she hails the Lord of the dance.

Surrendering to sleep’s soliloquy,

her Lord appears quite mystically.

She dreams of love sublime,

of bodies and souls entwined.
10

These she cannot tear from her mind.

From the Grail of communion they sip,

into the chalice of primordial passion they dip.

With soft undulations

and ancient syncopations,

our maiden and her Lord eclipse.

St. John of the Cross

2010-03-09T15:18:00.000-08:00

My life lately (past few years) has been a struggle, not just physical, but a times it has felt like a struggle for sanity as well. I am only now beginning to understand what I have been going through.
It is not easy to sum up in a moment what has taken me years to realize. But, you may be familiar with St. John of the Cross. He wrote, "Dark Night of the Soul."
I do not consider myself Roman Catholic, nor do I gravitate toward one particular religion, but I have been reading the words of all spiritual Masters throughout history for many years now. I have also been researching the history of my ancestors: Irish and Scottish (Celts), and am beginning to understand a legacy of "struggling for survival" that was passed down through bloodlines - that I have been mostly unaware of – not having known my biological family that well. The loss of connection with my adoptive family as well, has sent me on an Odyssey that I never could have imagined for myself when I was graduating from high school, thinking that I knew everything and could conquer the world single-handedly.

A huge fan of Carl Jung, his collective unconscious, and work with archetypes, fascinates me. Also, Joseph Campbell and his work with Myth was integral in helping guide me through rough- waters.

I am learning, through the lives and teachings of the great Masters of the ages, and through various spiritualities: Druidism, Native American shamanism, Buddhism, etc. -how to look at life from a very different. vantage point. My life has never been traditional, so more mainstream means of walking through life don’t work for me. I am only now becoming truly conscious. I am learning the power of forgiveness. I am learning to forgive myself and others because we are all human, and most of us are doing the best we can at any given time. The story of Scrooge was a classic “dark night of the soul” that I now understand in a much more poignant way than I ever did before. I feel that I am now stepping out of the darkness and into the light, but even that metaphor may be incorrect. I have found that I had to go into the deepest darkness of the abyss within myself in order to recover the light: the true, pure essence of my soul that was always there to begin with. As the roots of a tree dig down deep where soil is blackest, so have I dug down deep for the nurturing soul-waters of life. I was forced to do this when I realized I was alone and no one was going to guide me through this Odyssey. But, I also came to know that we are not alone. I have made a connection inside myself to the world beyond the veil.
I have realized that our thoughts really do create our reality, and if the worst I imagine comes true, then the best I imagine must come true also. A new consciousness is dawning within me and all around me, and I am all about creating the best I can imagine from here on out.

Revolution of Spirit Rap

2010-02-17T15:15:00.000-08:00

Revolution of Spirit Rap

The chapters of your life are rife with ego,
but greater than the ego is the soul.
Your humanity may just be your current starring role
in a whole play about the way,
the way we grow our soul.
So, my friend, as you end this scene and begin again,
be free from the constraints of mortality
and other people’s morality
and let your spirit fly.
They say the microcosm reflects the macrocosm and vice versa.
As within, so without, as above so below,
don’t ya know that the forces battling around the globe
are the very forces battling for our collective soul?
Your first battle should be your own
‘cause it’s only when you get to know the inner foe,
that you truly recognize those who tyrannize
those who have no way to say no.
Once you vanquish the inner tyrant,
you can become a giant of compassion,
and fashion a foundation for our nation.
So, heal thyself and light the way,
the eve of destruction has had its day.
Let each of us discuss our wounds and fears
and heal with the tears of the Phoenix.
Once we acknowledge that my pain is your pain is their pain,
we can see that we are all starring in the same drama
on different stages across the ages.
Whether its emotional
political
financial
or archetypal,
it’s all sound and fury,
smoke and mirrors,
reflecting the original Passion Play,
deus ex machinae.
It’s all about unity or separation,
whether it’s a nation or your own mind,
now is the time for all good men and women to:
focus
pray
meditate
create
an alternate reality of Unity.
Reconstruction must begin within
for anything else,
I have come to the conclusion,
is facade and illusion.
The control freaks have created their dream,
a nightmare which we are forced to accept at every step
but I reject this fatalistic notion
that our dream should be squashed by the machine.
We have the ability,
we have the power,
to turn the tide on the infanticide
of my childhood dream:
to nourish the love,
creativity,
and freeing
of every being on the planet, dammit!
by Kathryn Preston on Saturday, June 23, 2007

A Mask and a Shroud

2010-02-17T15:05:00.000-08:00

Moving from place to place
disappearing with a trace.
A nameless face in a maddening crowd.
A mask and a shroud.
A spirit searching for the light,
a gypsy wailing with all her might.

Always adapting,
acting,
afraid her heart may never find a home.
Sacrificing herself to survival,
Forging her fortress,
Hiding the emptiness.

Her eccentricity is not about vanity.
It’s the last semblance of sanity
for a heart too traumatized
to express the depth
of the loss
of the last
bonds of love in this world.

Without mother, father, or friend,
without understanding or peace,
without God or heaven,
she is homeless …
to what end?

Society seems superficial.
She maneuvers her polite dismissal
from the civilized world.
Her passionate intensity
reviled by polite society,
her only consolation
is her own isolation.

Her greatest hope,
living in limbo,
Is the creation of a foundation
Of compassion
With which to transform herself
and thereby –
the world.

Kathryn Preston, 2006

Poetry

2010-02-15T07:26:00.000-08:00

To read my new poems of 2010 go to : http://www.aspenpoetsociety.com/ the first page contains my first two poems of the new year. To read previous poems, click "poets" and find my name (alphabetical by first name - click "Kathryn Preston") Enjoy!

intoxication of illusion

2010-02-15T07:23:00.000-08:00

Intoxication of Illusion
by Kathryn Preston

The magical prescence manifesting
mirrors the poet-picasso-passion-power
invested in me by a universe experiencing ecstatic intimacy
through this heavenly body and my divine polarity.
Cosmic counterparts coupling,
uniting, inviting primal explosions:
portals of expanding consciousness;
transcending, transforming, transporting
by penetrating deep within the world-womb,
the source of knowing, the secret-soul-center,
which is longing for liberation from limitation, separation,
and the intoxication of illusion.

by Kathryn Preston on Monday, February 15, 2010
© 2010 Kathryn Preston

Song of the Universe

2010-02-14T10:36:00.000-08:00

Perhaps if it were not for my father and my lack of foundation, I would not have become a seeker, an initiate, a hermetic writer who learns the way to help others by helping myself.
I thank my father for fostering in me a love of language, mystery, and minerals of the earth. Perhaps he was a "teacher" of sorts, sent to gift me with the tools I needed to mine the mystery of myself. By unlocking my own secrets, I feel I am discovering the secrets of all human psyches, for we are all forged by the same universal mind.
In the end, to "know thyself" is to know what the Alaska natives call "Denali" or the "great one." Yes, it is their moniker for Mt. McKinley, but I believe that mountains are metaphors for the divine. Climbing a mountain is one path to knowing the divine self. As a child growing up in the Adirondack Mountains, my physical world had very solid borders. There was the house, the lawn, and the garden. Beyond the garden lay fallow fields and the woods.
Entering the woods was entering another reality, a world of mystery, of the unknown, where nothing was predictable, and anything could happen.
I loved the woods. My imagination took flight there, and I was free. Eventually, the woods came to a river, and while I often fished at its edges, I never crossed that border physically. Mentally, I always wondered what manner of worlds existed on the other side of the mountain? Currently my question is: what manner of realities exists beyond the confines of my current mindscape?
It is this yearning that will guide me into the next chapter of my life. I have a sense that I am on the brink of finding that place where I will feel real and whole. I hold a visual metaphor of this place in my mind. As a young mountain girl, I often went to the woods for solace from the cruel conditions of my childhood. There I would climb the biggest boulder I could find and sing at the top of my voice.
I remember singing "Amazing Grace" with all the passion of a child who knows all too well the meaning of the phrase "wretch like me."
The lyrics hold the key as to why it saved me: "Amazing Grace (divinity), how sweet the sound (song) that saved a wretch like me." Singing is divinity. Song is sound, vibration, energy, creativity. And creativity/creation, for me, is a seed-thought in the universal mind, coupled with a vibrating heart, blending their energies to create the song of the universe, without which, we wouldn't be here.
by Kathryn Preston

kathrynshakti@yahoo.com

2010-02-09T15:24:00.000-08:00

Seeking soulful, fulfilling work as an actor, vocalist, voice-over talent, writer, proofreader, production assistant for film, television, radio, music industry;
travel-writer: topic - sacred sites.

Inspired by philosophy, myth, quantum physics, alternative spiritualities.

Heroes: Carl Jung, Joseph Campbell, Ghandi, Deepak Chopra, ancient Celtic Druids/Bards.

I am a fan of ancient, intuitive ways of knowing, a child of nature, infinitely creative, strong imagination, and love improvisation.

My Music Reviews, poetry, and other writing samples available on my blog: http://moonbeansprimalscreams.blogspot.com/

Please contact me if you or your company are in need of someone who is a Flexible Risk-taker, comfortable with adapting to different realities on a dime! kathrynshakti@yahoo.com

All Women's Chalice

2010-01-27T15:31:00.000-08:00

A radical shift in consciousness happened instantaneously the moment I arrived at 3472 Sunshine Canyon Drive, home of The Star House spiritual retreat center in Boulder, CO. Like a scene in a Castaneda novel where Carlos receives a smack in the back between the shoulder blades which propelled him into a new dimension, I had landed in another reality.

The immediate impression upon arrival at The Star House is one of expansion. Having just driven through the canyon, the landscape suddenly morphed from rows of protective pines to open hills and grasslands. At the top of the hill, gazing down through the valley to Boulder below, one is able to breathe long, luxuriating breaths, inhaling pine, sage, and lavender, while exhaling any and all mundane concerns. The meadow, the clearing, was a mirror of the cleansing and clarity I was about to receive via a weekend at the “All Women’s Chalice” PCA (Path of the Ceremonial Arts) intensive.

The way I became aware of The Star House is an interesting story in and of itself. Having spent twenty years in the theater, steeped in the language of myth and story, my personal research over the last few years has led me to Joseph Campbell’s work: ancient myths and their heroes/heroines; and Carl Jung and his archetypes and dreamwork. Not a believer in any particular organized religion, Mary Magdalene has recently become an object of my attention. My intuition led me to The Gospel of Mary Magdalene by Jean-Yves Leloup, translated from French by Joseph Rowe. The introduction was written by David Tresemer and Laura-Lea Cannon. In it, they mention their play, “My Magdalene.” Instantly, I knew that this is exactly what I have been looking for: modern Theater with all of the original spiritual/ritual significance. Searching for David Tresemer and the play on Yahoo! led me to Lila’s e-mail at The Star House. I asked her if I could read the play. She responded by e-mailing a copy - no charge, no questions asked. Lila asked if I wanted to come to the Star House retreat. I jumped at the chance! Not only was it the synchronicity of thought that lured me, but I was at a crossroads in my life and I knew that I would not be able to move forward in a new direction until I stopped what I was doing, stepped off the treadmill, and took a much needed detour. The weekend intensive did not magically solve all my issues; however, it has provided a jumping-off point, a new focus, a new beginning on “the road less traveled.”

Drawing from the rituals of many ancient paths: Native American, Celtic, etc., the weekend was a kaleidoscope of feminine ways of thinking. We began the weekend in the Kiva: the womb ( portal from one reality into another) of mother earth, a cave, dark and dank; then the symbolic blindfold – the veil between the worlds; next an ascension up a ladder blindfolded; then emerging from the opening in to another portal – that of your own heart - to listen for a deeply individual message. From within I received this message: “Love yourself as you would a beloved. Instead of searching for a beloved, become the beloved.” As each woman received her own message, she shared it with the group, and lit her candle of intention.

Receiving messages through various “mediums” was a definite through-line for the weekend. Water is an effective information transmitter, and at the Celtic well, under the stars: I felt an urge to weep: water, emotions, the moon, the tides, the flow, cleansing, purifying, releasing. Release pain and fear of the past, release distrust, release some of my hermetic privacy so that I may share insights I have gathered on my journey.”

That first evening, we were encouraged to remember our dreams. I dreamt flashes, images: a path through the woods and a wolf.

According to www.birdclan.org/wolf.html: “Wolf is the pathfinder (emphasis added), the forerunner of new ideas who returns to the clan to teach and share medicine. If you were to keep company with Wolves, you would find an enormous sense of family within the pack, as well as a strong individualistic urge, and they live by carefully defined rules and rituals. They are friendly, social, and highly intelligent. Wolves are the epitome of the wild spirit. As you feel Wolf coming alive within you, you may wish to share your knowledge by writing or lecturing on information that will help others better understand their uniqueness or path in life.”
Hmmmm.

The next day, in a visualization guided by Laura-Lea, we were invited to ‘go underground’ to explore secret rooms to find out who we are meant to be in the physical, emotional, and mythic realms. I received images of myself as an alchemist, recording my “findings” based on my life’s experimentations and explorations. I also envisioned a shaman who helps others to learn how to navigate between realities or levels of consciousness. I learned that my voice is the breath, the wind that spreads the seeds of higher consciousness by writing and performing articles, plays, poetry, and songs. I wonder if my biological mother and father ever knew that when they named me Kathryn Gayle, they named me aptly. Kathryn means “purity,” and my middle name, Gayle, means “the singer.” I had always put the two together to mean “the pure singer.”

In the afternoon, the “priestesses” (the other participants and myself) invoked the spirit of each of the four-directions (a Native American tradition.) Initially, I chastised myself for not being able to remember the symbolism of any of the directions, except the North. While facing North, I received his incredible visual of skeletons dancing ecstatically around a campfire at night. As it turns out, the “North” represents bones,
stones, caves, our ancestors. It occurred to me that my ancestors were calling to me.

During another visualization, acting as a scribe for someone else’s meditation, it seemed that many of this participant’s thoughts were similar to my thoughts, and it struck me as she talked about her grandmother, that my grandmother just might be using her to “speak” to me. I don’t even know if I actually believe that this is possible, but the thought struck me in the moment, and as we say in the theater, I “went with it.” This was a
watershed moment, highly significant to me due to the fact that I spent my formative years as a foster child and did not know much about my biological family or their history. Named after my paternal grandmother, Kate O’Shaughnessy, I believe she fled Ireland to escape the potato famine induced by the British, but other than that, I have known nothing solid other than the fact that my family had become splintered and lost to each other. (Ok, so now grandma is calling me, but what does she want?)

On the final morning of the retreat, my sister-goddesses and I entered the Kiva as we had every morning, but this morning I had the sensation that my ankles were being attacked! I scratched them all through the ceremony until they bled. Entering The Star House, I mentioned this oddity to another participant who said, “The ankles have to do with indifference.” OK, so what am I indifferent about? It became clear that I had not previously had any interest in finding out who my grandmother was, this woman whom I was named for. Ashamed of my humble upbringing, I preferred that people saw me as the “dynamic actress,” the free-spirited bohemian, etc. It occurred to me that this thinking has deprived me of possibly the greatest treasure of my life.

I wasn’t seeking treasure when I signed up for this intensive, but that is ultimately what I found. In the piney-wood grove, later that day, leaning against a very old tree, perhaps a “grandmother” itself, I heard: “you have no roots, and you will not grow until you get some.” Suddenly, I had it! It was as if a slew of psychic ingredients had been bubbling in a cauldron, and finally I had the answer! Everything made sense at once. I thought of all the seashells I had seen in the past few weeks. The shells had been a clue, and now I know what they meant. I am to embark on a journey overseas, to the land of my ancestors: Ireland, Scotland, and Wales. I will discover my grandmother’s story, and in doing so, learn my own story and meet the family I never knew. I will write her story and share it with the world so that someone else may see themselves within our story and be inspired to go on a journey, a spiritual Odyssey, with the intention of creating wholeness within. Like concentric circles that flow outward when a pebble is tossed into a pond, it is my hope that my individual, transformation will reverberate in the larger world. As His Holiness the Dalai Lama said: “Although attempting to bring about world peace through internal transformation of individuals is difficult, it is the only way.”

By Kathryn Preston

Revolution of Spirit Rap

2010-01-27T14:28:00.000-08:00

Revolution of Spirit Rap
by Kathryn Preston

The chapters of your life are rife with ego,
but greater than the ego is the soul.
Your humanity may just be your current starring role
in a whole play about the way,
the way we grow our soul.
So, my friend, as you end this scene and begin again,
be free from the constraints of mortality
and other people’s morality and let your spirit fly.

They say the microcosm reflects the macrocosm and vice versa.
As within, so without, as above so below,
don’t ya know that the forces battling around the globe
are the very forces battling for our collective soul?
Your first battle should be your own
‘cause it’s only when you get to know the inner foe,
that you truly recognize those who tyrannize those who have no way to say no.
Once you vanquish the inner tyrant,
you can become a giant of compassion,
and fashion a foundation for our nation.
So, heal thyself and light the way,
the eve of destruction has had its day.
Let each of us discuss our wounds and fears and heal with the tears of the Phoenix.
Once we acknowledge that my pain is your pain is their pain,
we can see that we are all starring in the same drama
on different stages across the ages.

Whether its emotional, political, financial, or archetypal,
it’s all sound and fury, smoke and mirrors,
reflecting the original Passion Play,
deus ex machinae.
It’s all about unity or separation,
whether it’s a nation or your own mind,
now is the time for all good men and women to:
focus, pray, meditate, create
an alternate reality of Unity.
Reconstruction must begin within
for anything else, I have come to the conclusion, is facade and illusion.
The control freaks have created their dream,
a nightmare which we are forced to accept at every step
but I reject this fatalistic notion
that our dream should be squashed by the machine.
We have the ability,
we have the power,
to turn the tide on the infanticide
of my childhood dream:
to nourish the love, creativity, and freeing of every being on the planet, dammit!

Dreaming a Life Into Being

2010-01-27T14:24:00.000-08:00

Dreaming a Life into Being
by Kathryn Preston
Perched like an apprentice owl
on a contemplative birch bench in a secret riverine alcove,
she closes her eyes, peering into the abyss within,
seeking an image, a symbol,
to guide her on her quest.

In her mind’s eye the purple mist conjures visions of a luminous swan,
gliding with self-possessed tranquility.
Recognizing her future-reflection,
she ponders the ugly-duckling,
buried fathoms deep and wills the wounded-one to surrender,
dissolve, unravel, that she may be resurrected, re-woven;
to die to identity and be re-born to eternity.

In the marsh-waters of the subconscious,
the winged-one navigates the labyrinth in primordial darkness,
as roots reach down-deep where soil is blackest,
to be nurtured by the soul-waters of life.
Our ‘Lady of the Lake’ purifies and prepares among the weeds, reeds, and grasses.
She is deep within the mystery:
nesting, incubating, silently gestating her destiny,
and dreaming a life into being.

by Kathryn Preston on Monday, January 25, 2010
© 2010 Kathryn Preston

Creativity leads to Diplomacy

2010-01-26T14:05:00.000-08:00

After months of soul searching, I have come to the conclusion that my purpose on this planet (for the rest of my days) is to become a conduit for re-introducing the feminine aspect of the divine into the collective consciousness. Intuitive ways of knowing and creativity are necessary antidotes to the out-of-balance patriarchal-consumer forces poisoning our world and psyches today. Experience as an actor has taught me that creativity allows for the development of empathy and compassion, attributes which are absolutely necessary in serious discussions about improving global relations. The premise that creativity is a manifestation of the divine is the basis of my personal worldview.

Creativity allows for flexibility of thought ("thinking outside the box"), enhances problem-solving skills, and establishes powers of empathy and understanding, all of which
lead to greater diplomacy. If America is to truly light the way to freedom for the rest of the world, then creativity and diplomacy must become as great, in our culture and in our leaders, as our dependency on oil.

As an actor, one of the greatest gifts I received as a result of training was to view
others’ strengths and flaws as mirroring my own. An actor has to find an experience within his or her life that allows him to empathize as much as possible with a character in order to portray the character honestly. The actor is compelled to find something in his or her own nature that is on some level similar to the character. The universality of our humanity/divinity can be accessed through this creative play.

For example, an actor may have to take on the role of a murderer. The actor may have never killed a human being, and so does not have that personal experience to draw upon. Using Stanislavsky’s "magic if": "If I were this character, in these circumstances, how would I behave?" - IS A technique an actor might use to play George in "Of Mice and Men." One could argue, on the most basic level, that George is a "murderer." However, there are so many shades of gray surrounding the extenuating circumstances that lead to his decision and subsequent actions that one ends up empathizing with George rather than blindly condemning him in black or white terms. Standing in separation and judgment, saying, "I would never behave like that!" is not an option for an actor, as that kind of thinking is not conducive to the acting process. This type of separation-stance is taken by those who see all people as "the other," the "stranger." As an actor, one must find common ground between oneself and the character. Even if the actor does not condone the character's behavior, he must find a way to understand the behavior and empathize with the reasons why the behavior was manifested. This process of exploring all the aberrant behavior as well as the noble actions of human consciousness is the epitome of diplomacy. It is easy to stand apart in judgment, creating a sense of separation and superiority, which is why so many people do it: from political parties to sports teams to Presidents. It is infinitely harder to find common ground, to look for the good in someone "despicable," or to see thy enemy as thyself. From JFK to Martin Luther King, from Gandhi to Nelson Mandela, isn't this the message that the most beloved leaders throughout time have communicated?

Nelson Mandela said: "After climbing a great hill, one only finds that there are many more hills to climb. I have taken a moment here to rest, to steal a view of the glorious vista that surrounds me, to look back on the distance I have come. But I can rest only for a moment, for with freedom comes responsibilities, and I dare not linger, for my long walk is not yet ended." For many years, I walked through life as an actor. Later, during recovery from trauma, I realized that the Theater Arts had given me the very tools I would need to navigate the "dark night of the soul" that accompanies trauma and recovery. Through visualization; through conversations with "wise-women" characters in my imagination; through the relationship I have created with the most dark, cavernous places of my being, I have navigated my own labyrinth and found the portal to that place that is sacred and universal in all of us. Pain is one of the most powerful teachers that we have in this life. Transforming pain into compassion via empathy is the greatest triumph of the human spirit. Transforming that empathy into action that (according to Mandela) "respects and enhances the freedom of others" is a soulful goal that can lead to an alternate reality of unity, rather than one of fear and domination, and is the seed-thought of the new culture of higher consciousness that is being nurtured in our world today.
Kathryn Preston 2008