An interesting phenomenon seems to be surfacing. Many of us who are almost always putting our hands or minds or both to some task, are finding ourselves sitting still and staring into space, almost against our will, even though it's pleasant. We might be sitting next to a pile of books we've been eager to read, and instead of picking one up, stare blithely at the nearby wall. Or dinner is done and while we'd normally jump up and take care of the kitchen, now we let 15 minutes or a half hour slide by while we stare at our plate or out the window. Then again, we may be zooming in our car between important destinations, and find ourselves irresistibly drawn to pull into a park area and just sit, staring into the middle distance, not really seeing what's before us. . .
This has been happening to me, and I hear from friends and clients that this is happening to many of you, too. Now for me, raised with the good old Protestant ethic stated so well in the aphorism (picture this embroidered on a piece of old linen), "Idle hands are the Devil's workshop," even while sitting smiling dopily into the middle distance, there is a perpetually naggy voice yammering at me to GET TO WORK! What do I think I'm doing, just sitting there??? For Pete's sake, how can I continue to earn my place on the planet if I'm not producing??? Geez. When the mood, or whatever it is, finally passes, guilt sweeps in, and I find myself working double-time to make up for it. And yet the next day, or even later that same day, I drop off into this pleasant la-la land again, just sitting, despite the presence of that scolding inner voice. Sound familiar?
Over the years I've had occasionally recognized when an odd phenomenon keeps popping up, at which time it eventually occurs to me to ask Guidance, "hey, what the heck is going on?" This time they said that life on planet Earth is currently turbulent, chaotic. To which I wittily replied, "No, duh!" They are used to this from me, so kindly continued:
Those of you who know yourselves to be on a spiritual path
(for there are many who have yet to remember this truth), who
are sometimes called "Lightworkers," are allowing yourselves to be
used this way, for those times when you sit in quiet and just
BE, you act as the stillpoints in the center of the real and figurative
tornadoes of energy currently being released. This is most needful,
as Earth continues her evolution, old systems collapse and new
ones are imagined and created. Perhaps it's time to let go
of old thought patterns and habits that tell you that you have to earn
your place on this beloved planet? Perhaps it's time to believe
you are beloved, too, and therefore don't need to justify your
existence with endless busy-ness?"
I swear, if Guides smirked, they would have been smirking over those last two sentences.
Of course it's time to give up those self-defeating crazy-making ways. As the old cliche goes, we are called human beings, not human doings. How better to catch our breath, get grounded, and notice the glory and wonder around us in the midst of the chaos?
Recently I told my friend Linda that when I was pregnant with my daughter, my husband, son and I were visiting friends in Iowa when tornadoes blew through. Everyone else sensibly went to the basement (my friend Marge's mother got under the ping-pong table) and stayed put, but I just couldn't, I had to be where I could watch. And this was no small system; by the next day, the National Guard was all over the place, trying to help folks deal with the material destruction.
The really really wacky thing is, the same thing happened the next evening, and I responded the same way, to everyone's consternation.
While I felt powerfully guided to do this, and Guidance told me it would be fine, I do not recommend this behavior to anyone, especially someone pregnant.
However, there is something thrilling and awe-ful and beyond my poor powers to describe, watching Mother Nature remind us that we are not boss, that we are incredibly powerful, but in our own domain, and that there are always energies larger than us at play.
So, back to the present, maybe those "I can't seem to help myself; I'm not motivated to do anything but just sit," times allow us to remember to be, and sit in wonder at the magnificent (while at times overwhelming) changes bringing us into a new way of Being.
For my part, I'm reminding myself to surrender to those times. To "Let it Be." (I can hear the Beatles accompanying me as I do it.)
And if that annoying, cranky voice starts in again, pushing me to do, do, do, I'm going to smile sweetly and say, "I am sitting in the eye of a storm, so go away."
Let me know how it goes for you, okay, Fellow Stillpoint?
Wednesday, September 7, 2011
Thursday, September 1, 2011
My Favorite Restaurant
I just had a delicious brunch in what is, at this time of year, my favorite restaurant: my front porch. The service is generally relaxed and friendly, because that's usually how I feel when I get out there. It's homey, and open, and surrounded by flowers, and full of comfortable furniture, so no matter how my day is going, once I'm out there, I generally feel relaxed and friendly.
The setting is usually congenial, unless I time it when everybody decides it's time to mow, u weed wack, and blow leaves, or try out their new chain saws. But for the most part, it's low key, and I often have a CD playing softly through an open window, so the mood is peaceful.
Now let me tell you about the brunch I just had: I sauteed some green onions from my back garden, then added in some chanterelle mushrooms bought from The Mushroom Man at the nearby farmer's market, a treat that one waits all year to have, as they are quite seasonal. Next in went some baby carrots and green beans, also from my back garden; then some summer squash from a volunteer that planted itself on the side of my compost. Next, some garlic and basil and shiso, also from out back, a little hungarian hotwax pepper from my next door neighbor's garden, a couple of chopped cherry tomatoes from my friend Sarah's, and a little pepper and himalayan salt. Finally I threw on top a gorgeous egg with an amazingly yellow yolk from my friend Laura's hens. This accompanied by a slice of oatmeal toast, also from the farmers' market, slathered in maple honey, from the Maple Lady at the farmers' market, and a big mug of tea, flavored with chocolate mint from my front garden.
What a feast! A delight to the eye, an adventure to the nose, a thrill to the mouth, and with the exception of the tea, which is from India, all quite local. How blessed is that!
I feel endlessly blessed that I have this spot of Earth that I am allowed to steward, to love and cherish and learn from and plant and sow and tend, and from which I get to harvest miracles in all shapes and sizes and flavors and colors. And then I get to dance around in my kitchen and combine these gorgeous miracles in all sorts of ways, like the brunch I just fixed and consumed.
Even the preparation is such a joy. The foods look so vibrant at this time of year, and getting to wander through one's yard (or one's neighbor's) to find just the right contents is a treasure hunt unlike any other. It never ceases to fill me with awe that a tiny speck of a seed, in ground that I have dug and amended and watered, will grow into an entire tomato plant, or pepper plant, or lettuce.
. . .and the cutting or snipping usually adds aroma to the surroundings; never more so than with the aromatics like basil or peppermint:
Each moment in the garden, I am aware of being part of a whole, a gigantic whole composed of every living thing, and I get to play my part by nurturing another part and then choose it to nurture me in its turn. The sense of flow is so strong for me at these times, of give and take. How can I feel anything but gratitude? People visiting my garden often say,"what a lot of work goes into this!" and I always feel a little frisson of surprise. I can spend hours "tending" my garden and feel so completely tended in turn, that it somehow doesn't register as work, at least not in the usual sense. Even when it's heavy "work" like turning the compost, I feels so completely at home participating in the cycle of life that the pouring sweat and tired muscles simply don't register for me in the same way as, say, cleaning out the garage.
I find myself wondering if I can develop that kind of consciousness for tasks that, to my mind, currently seem less appealing, more something I have to talk myself into? I imagine organizing the basement or my tax files or refinishing some outdoor furniture with that happy smile on my face. . .but I'm not there yet.
One of the things I love best about gathering and preparing food for my favorite restaurant : the surprises that come up. I notice things that are ripe unexpectedly (which makes up for the things that are taking forever to ripen) and instantly, different combinations are forming in my head for the next meal. It's an endless adventure. And of course, creatures of all sort surprise me: sometimes a garden snake curled into the compost pile; sometimes a spider who has erected a gorgeous filigree across two plants. . .these sisters and brothers often take me by surprise, and I am not always grateful at first meeting; sometimes the surprise is too great, and I have to ground and remind myself of the wonder. But at other times, the wonder is automatic, as in the case of my friend to the right. Ahhh, bliss.
The setting is usually congenial, unless I time it when everybody decides it's time to mow, u weed wack, and blow leaves, or try out their new chain saws. But for the most part, it's low key, and I often have a CD playing softly through an open window, so the mood is peaceful.
Now let me tell you about the brunch I just had: I sauteed some green onions from my back garden, then added in some chanterelle mushrooms bought from The Mushroom Man at the nearby farmer's market, a treat that one waits all year to have, as they are quite seasonal. Next in went some baby carrots and green beans, also from my back garden; then some summer squash from a volunteer that planted itself on the side of my compost. Next, some garlic and basil and shiso, also from out back, a little hungarian hotwax pepper from my next door neighbor's garden, a couple of chopped cherry tomatoes from my friend Sarah's, and a little pepper and himalayan salt. Finally I threw on top a gorgeous egg with an amazingly yellow yolk from my friend Laura's hens. This accompanied by a slice of oatmeal toast, also from the farmers' market, slathered in maple honey, from the Maple Lady at the farmers' market, and a big mug of tea, flavored with chocolate mint from my front garden.
What a feast! A delight to the eye, an adventure to the nose, a thrill to the mouth, and with the exception of the tea, which is from India, all quite local. How blessed is that!
I feel endlessly blessed that I have this spot of Earth that I am allowed to steward, to love and cherish and learn from and plant and sow and tend, and from which I get to harvest miracles in all shapes and sizes and flavors and colors. And then I get to dance around in my kitchen and combine these gorgeous miracles in all sorts of ways, like the brunch I just fixed and consumed.
Even the preparation is such a joy. The foods look so vibrant at this time of year, and getting to wander through one's yard (or one's neighbor's) to find just the right contents is a treasure hunt unlike any other. It never ceases to fill me with awe that a tiny speck of a seed, in ground that I have dug and amended and watered, will grow into an entire tomato plant, or pepper plant, or lettuce.
Each moment in the garden, I am aware of being part of a whole, a gigantic whole composed of every living thing, and I get to play my part by nurturing another part and then choose it to nurture me in its turn. The sense of flow is so strong for me at these times, of give and take. How can I feel anything but gratitude? People visiting my garden often say,"what a lot of work goes into this!" and I always feel a little frisson of surprise. I can spend hours "tending" my garden and feel so completely tended in turn, that it somehow doesn't register as work, at least not in the usual sense. Even when it's heavy "work" like turning the compost, I feels so completely at home participating in the cycle of life that the pouring sweat and tired muscles simply don't register for me in the same way as, say, cleaning out the garage.
I find myself wondering if I can develop that kind of consciousness for tasks that, to my mind, currently seem less appealing, more something I have to talk myself into? I imagine organizing the basement or my tax files or refinishing some outdoor furniture with that happy smile on my face. . .but I'm not there yet.
Friday, July 29, 2011
Norway's Example
Like everyone, I was stricken by the recent events in Norway. The searing shock and pain, feelings of loss and horror, are almost unimaginable.
But it is their response to this event that is the subject of this post: the utter grace and love that have flowed forth, rather than the instant retaliative responses we so often come to expect.
As Stacey Robyn and her Go Gratitude group say:
Rather than resort to retaliation and fear-mongering, the people
of Norway have chosen a peaceful response. Our Norwegian
brothers and sisters are choosing LOVE, Peace, Openness and
Freedom in the face of manufactured fear, terror and illusion.
A new pathway . . . is being embodied,
and is an example worthy of emulation for every nation on
the planet. Blessed BE!
I'm also reminded of the horrible attack on an Amish school a few years back. Once again, that community chose to respond with love and forgivenness, and healing became possible as a result.
Now of course I would rather be a part of a nation that responds with calmness, love and peace when acts of aggression are experienced. Of course I believe that is the way for life to improve, rather than just get into a nasty cycle of getting back at someone who's wronged us. Of course it makes sense to me that retaliation simply makes for an increase in violence and pain and loss. And I'd love to be part of a nation that feels strong and confident enough to react with love.
So how can I help my community, my state, my nation emulate these principles?
By asking myself the question: do I live that in my daily life?
There are so many times in my day - to - day existence in which I get an opportunity to practice this idea; how do I do?
Too often, when someone cuts me off in traffic, I send ticked-off energy back at them. Yet when I have the presence of mind of take a deep breath and wish them well, I feel so much better. When I encounter a rude clerk, or a client who wants to "yes-but" everything I say, or a contractor who doesn't show up when promised, how often do I take it personally and send back feelings of annoyance or even (a personal favorite) self-righteousness? How can I help myself remember to send back love and acceptance?
Gandhi knew a thing or two about these matters: he knew that if you want to have the wherewithal to withstand the big stuff, you have to practice it in little ways, on a daily basis. When he was a young angry attorney, outraged by British policy toward his people, he didn't accomplish much and only found himself more and more frustrated. It was when he discovered the magic that comes in finding peace inside onself , letting go of anger and spending time forgiving, that everything started to change. His famous quote:
You must be the change you wish to see in the world,
has never been more true. If the Norwegians are able to respond to this event with such forgivenness, love and grace, it's because as a culture they live that.
Have you ever been really, really angry with someone, and expected a really really angry response, only to have them look you in the eye and say "I am so sorry"? Didn't you melt? Or at least take a step back and have to reconsider the whole situation?
Too often I catch myself being irritated with such minute nothings! As I look at it, it seems like such a waste of good feeling, of beauty, of opportunity for delight.
There is a little miracle of a book called The Gentle Art of Blessing by Pierre Pradervand. It is full of stories of people who have found their lives changing in amazing ways when they taught themselves to respond to all sorts of situations with blessings. (To get a beautiful taste of his philosophy, check out:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=WegAgepCYfo
So I find myself thinking that the best way I can honor those lost in Norway, or indeed in any violent situation around the world, is to practice peace in my daily life, to foster a wave of blessing and forgivenness, for we know that energy builds and like attracts like.
What are your thoughts?
But it is their response to this event that is the subject of this post: the utter grace and love that have flowed forth, rather than the instant retaliative responses we so often come to expect.
As Stacey Robyn and her Go Gratitude group say:
Rather than resort to retaliation and fear-mongering, the people
of Norway have chosen a peaceful response. Our Norwegian
brothers and sisters are choosing LOVE, Peace, Openness and
Freedom in the face of manufactured fear, terror and illusion.
A new pathway . . . is being embodied,
and is an example worthy of emulation for every nation on
the planet. Blessed BE!
I'm also reminded of the horrible attack on an Amish school a few years back. Once again, that community chose to respond with love and forgivenness, and healing became possible as a result.
Now of course I would rather be a part of a nation that responds with calmness, love and peace when acts of aggression are experienced. Of course I believe that is the way for life to improve, rather than just get into a nasty cycle of getting back at someone who's wronged us. Of course it makes sense to me that retaliation simply makes for an increase in violence and pain and loss. And I'd love to be part of a nation that feels strong and confident enough to react with love.
So how can I help my community, my state, my nation emulate these principles?
By asking myself the question: do I live that in my daily life?
There are so many times in my day - to - day existence in which I get an opportunity to practice this idea; how do I do?
Too often, when someone cuts me off in traffic, I send ticked-off energy back at them. Yet when I have the presence of mind of take a deep breath and wish them well, I feel so much better. When I encounter a rude clerk, or a client who wants to "yes-but" everything I say, or a contractor who doesn't show up when promised, how often do I take it personally and send back feelings of annoyance or even (a personal favorite) self-righteousness? How can I help myself remember to send back love and acceptance?
Gandhi knew a thing or two about these matters: he knew that if you want to have the wherewithal to withstand the big stuff, you have to practice it in little ways, on a daily basis. When he was a young angry attorney, outraged by British policy toward his people, he didn't accomplish much and only found himself more and more frustrated. It was when he discovered the magic that comes in finding peace inside onself , letting go of anger and spending time forgiving, that everything started to change. His famous quote:
You must be the change you wish to see in the world,
has never been more true. If the Norwegians are able to respond to this event with such forgivenness, love and grace, it's because as a culture they live that.
Have you ever been really, really angry with someone, and expected a really really angry response, only to have them look you in the eye and say "I am so sorry"? Didn't you melt? Or at least take a step back and have to reconsider the whole situation?
Too often I catch myself being irritated with such minute nothings! As I look at it, it seems like such a waste of good feeling, of beauty, of opportunity for delight.
There is a little miracle of a book called The Gentle Art of Blessing by Pierre Pradervand. It is full of stories of people who have found their lives changing in amazing ways when they taught themselves to respond to all sorts of situations with blessings. (To get a beautiful taste of his philosophy, check out:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=WegAgepCYfo
So I find myself thinking that the best way I can honor those lost in Norway, or indeed in any violent situation around the world, is to practice peace in my daily life, to foster a wave of blessing and forgivenness, for we know that energy builds and like attracts like.
What are your thoughts?
Thursday, July 21, 2011
Baby, It's Hot Outside
ooh boy, i'm too hot even to capitalize. . .
i'm one of those people who makes fun of people who complain about the weather. i think it is such a waste of energy, time, thought. and because i believe in the laws of manifestation, you know: the idea that what you put your attention on increases, whether you want that to happen or not, it just seems ridiculous to me to put my attention on something that i want to go away. but keep your ears open when the temperatures stay in the 90s for more than three days. . .you can start to hear a whine coming from my direction, and if those temps go longer than 5 or 6 days, you'll usually catch me opining on the dire state of the weather, feeling shame-faced about it the whole time. geez.
well, i don't even know what day this is, i just know that it's a whole lot hotter than i like, and i'm grumbling. oh yeah, i have my coping techniques. the usual cool liquids and sitting near fans helps a lot, and wearing as little as this culture lets me get away with, and staring at my darling sheltie pooch who is in this same weather wearing a fur coat and who remains cheerful and playful and. . .i use the heat as an excuse to lie around and read under or next to a fan as often as possible, and i get up really early and stay up quite late, hoping for a chance to nap in the hottest part of the day like those intelligent mediterranean cultures do. but still. grumble grumble.
i'm reminding myself how happy i was to get to the time of the year when i don't need to spend 15 minutes putting on coat,hat,mittens,scarf,heavy socks and boots before leaving the house. i'm reminding myself how much i love to garden. i'm reminding myself that there are people i know and love who revel in this weather, and i can choose to be happy for them; after all, everyone should get the kind of weather they love at least now and then, right? but secretly i think they are just plum demented.
so today when the weather is again hot and steamy, and i know it's much hotter and more unbearable in austin where my brother and his family live, and knowing that doesn't seem to help at all, and i'm full to the gills with cooling liquids and grumbling about all the peeing it engenders, i'm aiming to play with ideas that are further 'out there' to see if i can find a way to make this fun instead of perceiving it as such a drag. hmmm.
ok, here's one: what if i imagine that i'm really from another planet and this planet's temps feel a little coolish. that might work. just imagine that the sensation i'm perceiving as uncomfortably hot is really just a tad chilly. hey, this is interesting, because i remember times when i've stuck my hand in some water and not been able to tell for a split second whether i'm perceiving hot or cold. what if i just use that power to imagine that the sensations running along my spine aren't a river of sweat but rather a cooling liquid full of nutrients - hey, wait a minute, that's actually true! sweat is a liquid that's meant to cool (and does, beautifully) and is full of mineral salts, etc.
oh, and i'm just remembering that in old-fashioned books, women with a sheen of sweat on their brow actually didn't have sweat on their brow because ladies didn't sweat, it wasn't nice. no, no, their complexions were dewey. i like that. right now i'm really really dewey. i'm swimming in dew.
and i can remind myself that i wait all year for vine ripened tomatoes from my own garden, and my tomatoes love this heat. love, love, love it. they are genuinely happy when it doesn't cool off at night one jot. they are happy campers.
so, here's what i've got going so far: i'm pretending that i'm a tomato-loving, dewey complected alien from a hot climate. it's time to go get some more cooling liquids and think of something to fix my cousin for breakfast; i wonder if she'll notice me seeming a little more out-of-this-world? i'll let you know how it works. meantime, what do you find helpful with weather that makes you crazy/oops, let me change that to "challenges your powers of perception and manifestation"?
i'm one of those people who makes fun of people who complain about the weather. i think it is such a waste of energy, time, thought. and because i believe in the laws of manifestation, you know: the idea that what you put your attention on increases, whether you want that to happen or not, it just seems ridiculous to me to put my attention on something that i want to go away. but keep your ears open when the temperatures stay in the 90s for more than three days. . .you can start to hear a whine coming from my direction, and if those temps go longer than 5 or 6 days, you'll usually catch me opining on the dire state of the weather, feeling shame-faced about it the whole time. geez.
well, i don't even know what day this is, i just know that it's a whole lot hotter than i like, and i'm grumbling. oh yeah, i have my coping techniques. the usual cool liquids and sitting near fans helps a lot, and wearing as little as this culture lets me get away with, and staring at my darling sheltie pooch who is in this same weather wearing a fur coat and who remains cheerful and playful and. . .i use the heat as an excuse to lie around and read under or next to a fan as often as possible, and i get up really early and stay up quite late, hoping for a chance to nap in the hottest part of the day like those intelligent mediterranean cultures do. but still. grumble grumble.
i'm reminding myself how happy i was to get to the time of the year when i don't need to spend 15 minutes putting on coat,hat,mittens,scarf,heavy socks and boots before leaving the house. i'm reminding myself how much i love to garden. i'm reminding myself that there are people i know and love who revel in this weather, and i can choose to be happy for them; after all, everyone should get the kind of weather they love at least now and then, right? but secretly i think they are just plum demented.
so today when the weather is again hot and steamy, and i know it's much hotter and more unbearable in austin where my brother and his family live, and knowing that doesn't seem to help at all, and i'm full to the gills with cooling liquids and grumbling about all the peeing it engenders, i'm aiming to play with ideas that are further 'out there' to see if i can find a way to make this fun instead of perceiving it as such a drag. hmmm.
ok, here's one: what if i imagine that i'm really from another planet and this planet's temps feel a little coolish. that might work. just imagine that the sensation i'm perceiving as uncomfortably hot is really just a tad chilly. hey, this is interesting, because i remember times when i've stuck my hand in some water and not been able to tell for a split second whether i'm perceiving hot or cold. what if i just use that power to imagine that the sensations running along my spine aren't a river of sweat but rather a cooling liquid full of nutrients - hey, wait a minute, that's actually true! sweat is a liquid that's meant to cool (and does, beautifully) and is full of mineral salts, etc.
oh, and i'm just remembering that in old-fashioned books, women with a sheen of sweat on their brow actually didn't have sweat on their brow because ladies didn't sweat, it wasn't nice. no, no, their complexions were dewey. i like that. right now i'm really really dewey. i'm swimming in dew.
and i can remind myself that i wait all year for vine ripened tomatoes from my own garden, and my tomatoes love this heat. love, love, love it. they are genuinely happy when it doesn't cool off at night one jot. they are happy campers.
so, here's what i've got going so far: i'm pretending that i'm a tomato-loving, dewey complected alien from a hot climate. it's time to go get some more cooling liquids and think of something to fix my cousin for breakfast; i wonder if she'll notice me seeming a little more out-of-this-world? i'll let you know how it works. meantime, what do you find helpful with weather that makes you crazy/oops, let me change that to "challenges your powers of perception and manifestation"?
Wednesday, July 20, 2011
A NAME BY ANY OTHER ROSE. . .
I had something completely different in mind for this week's blog, but you know how it goes. . .you get distracted by a side path and the next thing you know you're in a part of the woods that you didn't even know existed.
I accidently Googled my own name (trying to get to this blogspot; see how slow I am when it comes to computers?) and the next thing I knew, I was finding other people with my name who sound pretty darned interesting. There's a Margaret Swift in North Dakota who was a "farm wife who picked up a brush" and now creates lovely paintings of nature scenes; another who choreographs Texas line dances, which you can watch on you.tube, and a G.P. in British Columbia. The one I found the most fascinating and actually spent more than two minutes reading about is a Margaret (Welles) Swift who was a survivor of the Titanic! Wow! As one who's rather interested in the history of the Titanic, has seen the movie (which I still think was way too long), and more recently, been bewitched watching Downton Abbey, I find it quirky and exciting that someone with MY name lived through that ordeal. It's known that she was a first class passenger and was rescued on boat #8 along with two female companions; the male who was part of their party went down with the ship. Talk about survivor's guilt; how do you accept the fact that you got to live and lots of others didn't simply because you were female and could afford a first class ticket? Hmmm.
That Margaret Swift was 46 years old at the time, and lived to be 82, so she clearly still had a lot of living to do.
It got me thinking: how many of the survivors came back feeling that they were spared for a purpose? Those were times in which the general thought was that God controlled everything and had a big old masterplan, so did (most) people think that those who died were "called" because they were done with their Earthly Travails, and those still here still had things to do? Did it give them a sort of kick in the pants to not take tomorrow for granted but to get on with whatever it was with which they wanted to get on?
I'm not a big fan of the Divine Masterplan idea; I was raised with it, but it never made sense to me. My current idea, which keeps evolving, is that we are all evolving -- even Divine Love, or Source, or Infinite Joy, or whatever I call that-which-I-have-difficulty-calling-God-because-of-too-many-yucky-definitions-which-people-have-killed-and-died-for-because-they-thought-they-knew-the definition-and-were-right-and-everyone-else-was-wrong, on any given day. I believe that Creation with a capital C didn't just happen a long time ago; it's happening NOW, every nanosecond of every day, and the biggest miracle of our lives, lives which are loaded with miracles, heavy with them, full to the brim, is that we get to participate in that Creation with a capital C. In fact, we have no choice: we are doing it every nanosecond whether we realize it or not.
Isn't this exciting? We're helping write the script as the play's being acted out. In some way, big or small, we are helping decide the lighting, the sound, the props, and at any given moment, whether it's a comedy or tragedy or something completely new.
This is my current belief, and I believe it with my whole heart, while trying to remain open to new wisdom as it bops me on the head or tugs at my heart. I really really believe this. I am a co-creator. What I do and say and how I be matters.
So why do I still waste so much time? Why aren't I more focused and committed and purposeful?
OK, I could waste more time beating myself up for often being lazy, distracted, and confusing what I feel I'm meant to be doing with what I feel other's expect me to do. But no.
Right now I'm pausing to think about what that other Margaret Swift might have felt in the remaining 36 years of her life. Maybe that life is mysterious and you just never know when a bizarre set of circumstances might sink an unsinkable ship and dump you into icy waters. And that if you are one of the blessed who get back home again, you might find it harder to take people and resources and circumstances for granted. I don't know that life would take on more meaning, exactly, but it certainly would take on more value.
So I ask myself, how do I maintain that sense of blessed purpose without needing a titanic event? For now, I'm going to evoke the spirit of this earlier Margaret Swift, print out her picture, and have her greet me in my little meditation spot each morning. Let's see how that works. ( What do you find helpful?)
P.S. This is the first time I've successfully uploaded pictures (with a great deal of help from my sainted daughter) so I now consider myself trainable. Hurrah!
I accidently Googled my own name (trying to get to this blogspot; see how slow I am when it comes to computers?) and the next thing I knew, I was finding other people with my name who sound pretty darned interesting. There's a Margaret Swift in North Dakota who was a "farm wife who picked up a brush" and now creates lovely paintings of nature scenes; another who choreographs Texas line dances, which you can watch on you.tube, and a G.P. in British Columbia. The one I found the most fascinating and actually spent more than two minutes reading about is a Margaret (Welles) Swift who was a survivor of the Titanic! Wow! As one who's rather interested in the history of the Titanic, has seen the movie (which I still think was way too long), and more recently, been bewitched watching Downton Abbey, I find it quirky and exciting that someone with MY name lived through that ordeal. It's known that she was a first class passenger and was rescued on boat #8 along with two female companions; the male who was part of their party went down with the ship. Talk about survivor's guilt; how do you accept the fact that you got to live and lots of others didn't simply because you were female and could afford a first class ticket? Hmmm.
That Margaret Swift was 46 years old at the time, and lived to be 82, so she clearly still had a lot of living to do.
It got me thinking: how many of the survivors came back feeling that they were spared for a purpose? Those were times in which the general thought was that God controlled everything and had a big old masterplan, so did (most) people think that those who died were "called" because they were done with their Earthly Travails, and those still here still had things to do? Did it give them a sort of kick in the pants to not take tomorrow for granted but to get on with whatever it was with which they wanted to get on?
I'm not a big fan of the Divine Masterplan idea; I was raised with it, but it never made sense to me. My current idea, which keeps evolving, is that we are all evolving -- even Divine Love, or Source, or Infinite Joy, or whatever I call that-which-I-have-difficulty-calling-God-because-of-too-many-yucky-definitions-which-people-have-killed-and-died-for-because-they-thought-they-knew-the definition-and-were-right-and-everyone-else-was-wrong, on any given day. I believe that Creation with a capital C didn't just happen a long time ago; it's happening NOW, every nanosecond of every day, and the biggest miracle of our lives, lives which are loaded with miracles, heavy with them, full to the brim, is that we get to participate in that Creation with a capital C. In fact, we have no choice: we are doing it every nanosecond whether we realize it or not.
 |
| from spacetoday.org |
Isn't this exciting? We're helping write the script as the play's being acted out. In some way, big or small, we are helping decide the lighting, the sound, the props, and at any given moment, whether it's a comedy or tragedy or something completely new.
This is my current belief, and I believe it with my whole heart, while trying to remain open to new wisdom as it bops me on the head or tugs at my heart. I really really believe this. I am a co-creator. What I do and say and how I be matters.
So why do I still waste so much time? Why aren't I more focused and committed and purposeful?
OK, I could waste more time beating myself up for often being lazy, distracted, and confusing what I feel I'm meant to be doing with what I feel other's expect me to do. But no.
Right now I'm pausing to think about what that other Margaret Swift might have felt in the remaining 36 years of her life. Maybe that life is mysterious and you just never know when a bizarre set of circumstances might sink an unsinkable ship and dump you into icy waters. And that if you are one of the blessed who get back home again, you might find it harder to take people and resources and circumstances for granted. I don't know that life would take on more meaning, exactly, but it certainly would take on more value.
So I ask myself, how do I maintain that sense of blessed purpose without needing a titanic event? For now, I'm going to evoke the spirit of this earlier Margaret Swift, print out her picture, and have her greet me in my little meditation spot each morning. Let's see how that works. ( What do you find helpful?)
P.S. This is the first time I've successfully uploaded pictures (with a great deal of help from my sainted daughter) so I now consider myself trainable. Hurrah!
Tuesday, July 5, 2011
Not There Yet
Sorry, dear readers, but please keep in mind that I am a mind from the 16th century. . .I have been diligently working on two posts, which I shall share with you eventually, but I am stumped by my inability to figure out how to add pictures and believe me, these posts need them. I've spent the day often feeling stupid and annoyed with myself and annoyed with my computer and annoyed with anyone who got in the way at the wrong moment. . .yuck. Not what I was hoping to share. Here at the close of the day, I am spending some time remembering that it's okay to be on the front end of a given learning curve, even if it is one that any average 10 year old has already mastered. . .I'm just sure this process is good for my ego.
To relax and calm myself, I am listening to Eric Whitacre (click to see his amazing TED talk and get a taste of the music I'm listening to) and drifting happily on the soaring voices joined in performing his remarkable works. And I am writing to you, partly to apologize to myself and the world for getting my energetic knickers in a twist, and partly to close out the day on a more uplifting note for myself. It occurred to me to revel in post 16th C. inventions for which I feel a deep and abiding delight and/or gratitude. And then to open it up to you to mention a few of your favorites. . .
I truly am grateful for the Internet and all it makes available to us, literally at the push of a button (or for you more up-to-date, the touch of a screen). I love that it is getting more and more obvious just how tiny and precious is this amazing Blue Ball on which we dance, thanks to the connectivity of the Internet. Wow.
Those who know me know that everyday I thank the Divine, and Thomas Crapper, for flush toilets. (Yes, I know T. Crapper didn't invent the toilet, but he modernized it into what we know today). I can squat in the woods with the best bear, but I am soooo grateful I don't have to! The cleverness of the design, the simplicity, and the fact that those of us in this part of the world can and usually do take flush toilets so completely for granted. . .well, let's remember that's not true yet in many parts of the world, and that right here it only goes back a very few generations.
Recorded music. My oh my. Think about one or two or three of your favorite, and imagine hearing it for the first time and knowing that if you EVER wanted to hear it again, you had to play it yourself or get someone near and dear to you to do so. The exception was of course some standardized church music, some of which is gorgeous, and lots of which is, in my opinion, blech. We take for granted that we can hear a piece, want to hear it again, and purchase a CD or download it or whatever, and play it on an almost crazy number of devices. Fantastic.
Digital cameras. I am no photographer. And I'm parsimonious. I used to be awfully hesitant to take pictures, because of wasting all that money and other resources on film and developing. Now I joyously click away, knowing I can delete to my heart's content. And getting to see at least a little version of the picture I just took! Clearly magic. Now I just need to learn more about uploading, photoshopping, etc. . .
Central heating. The idea that in the midst of winter, one can have an entirely warm body, not just the side facing the heat source, is still a very new idea on this planet. I remember clearly at my maternal grandparents, turning slowly like a bird on a spit, so that one side didn't get overheated and the other frozen. I also remember no heat upstairs, and the drinking water next to the bed frozen in the morning. It's easy to forget that much of the world still doesn't take central heat for granted, and that, once again, even in this affluent country, you don't have to go very far back to find out just what a luxury it is. I still don't have central air, but I suspect it won't be long. Fabulous.
Lending libraries and their amazing librarians. Hey, that's a whole blog post in and of itself. But as I close for now, I'll go pick out a book to read for a few minutes before drifting off into the arms of Morpheus. . .and feel intense tho' drowsy gratitude for those amazing institutions and their guardians.
Your turn.
To relax and calm myself, I am listening to Eric Whitacre (click to see his amazing TED talk and get a taste of the music I'm listening to) and drifting happily on the soaring voices joined in performing his remarkable works. And I am writing to you, partly to apologize to myself and the world for getting my energetic knickers in a twist, and partly to close out the day on a more uplifting note for myself. It occurred to me to revel in post 16th C. inventions for which I feel a deep and abiding delight and/or gratitude. And then to open it up to you to mention a few of your favorites. . .
I truly am grateful for the Internet and all it makes available to us, literally at the push of a button (or for you more up-to-date, the touch of a screen). I love that it is getting more and more obvious just how tiny and precious is this amazing Blue Ball on which we dance, thanks to the connectivity of the Internet. Wow.
Those who know me know that everyday I thank the Divine, and Thomas Crapper, for flush toilets. (Yes, I know T. Crapper didn't invent the toilet, but he modernized it into what we know today). I can squat in the woods with the best bear, but I am soooo grateful I don't have to! The cleverness of the design, the simplicity, and the fact that those of us in this part of the world can and usually do take flush toilets so completely for granted. . .well, let's remember that's not true yet in many parts of the world, and that right here it only goes back a very few generations.
Recorded music. My oh my. Think about one or two or three of your favorite, and imagine hearing it for the first time and knowing that if you EVER wanted to hear it again, you had to play it yourself or get someone near and dear to you to do so. The exception was of course some standardized church music, some of which is gorgeous, and lots of which is, in my opinion, blech. We take for granted that we can hear a piece, want to hear it again, and purchase a CD or download it or whatever, and play it on an almost crazy number of devices. Fantastic.
Digital cameras. I am no photographer. And I'm parsimonious. I used to be awfully hesitant to take pictures, because of wasting all that money and other resources on film and developing. Now I joyously click away, knowing I can delete to my heart's content. And getting to see at least a little version of the picture I just took! Clearly magic. Now I just need to learn more about uploading, photoshopping, etc. . .
Central heating. The idea that in the midst of winter, one can have an entirely warm body, not just the side facing the heat source, is still a very new idea on this planet. I remember clearly at my maternal grandparents, turning slowly like a bird on a spit, so that one side didn't get overheated and the other frozen. I also remember no heat upstairs, and the drinking water next to the bed frozen in the morning. It's easy to forget that much of the world still doesn't take central heat for granted, and that, once again, even in this affluent country, you don't have to go very far back to find out just what a luxury it is. I still don't have central air, but I suspect it won't be long. Fabulous.
Lending libraries and their amazing librarians. Hey, that's a whole blog post in and of itself. But as I close for now, I'll go pick out a book to read for a few minutes before drifting off into the arms of Morpheus. . .and feel intense tho' drowsy gratitude for those amazing institutions and their guardians.
Your turn.
Friday, July 1, 2011
"Young lady, you're grounded!"
When I was in high school, I heard the title phrase a lot, particularly during my junior and senior years. My friends Kitty and Mike and Mark were rabble-rousers, protesting the Viet Nam non-War and promoting something bizarre called Earth Day and letting our hair grow to Rapunzel lengths: fun stuff like that. The dean of our high school despaired of us ever learning to toe the mark, and he would barrel down the hall thundering that we were grounded; we'd groan, and after school head to detention instead of drama club or debate club or whatever club we'd much rather have been going to.
These days, the phrase, "you're grounded!" has come to mean something rather different.
Along my path of learning about healing work, I realized that there were times I'd do good work only to be left feeling airy-fairy and floaty and unable to do more good work. About that time I heard about a local healer named Warren Grossman who taught classes in working with Earth's energies, and through him I learned the importance of grounding.
Energy is energy, and ungrounded energy flies around and can't focus and often causes difficulties (think of houses before lightening rods). Grounded energy is useful, purposeful, and can accomplish a great deal. I found that when I remembered to ground and do my energy work, I could stay clear-headed and have a lot of energy coming from Mama Earth to source me, and when I didn't, I got goofy (I mean like walking into walls) and tired.
Over the years, I've taught many of my clients how to ground, and they often report their lives going much more smoothly just with that one missing piece; when they ground, they feel better, clearer, have more energy, sleep better, and digest their food better. Pretty amazing, considering how simple it is.
What is grounding? Well, it's simply putting one's attention on the connection to the Earth that is there all along. The thing is, when we get super-cerebral, living in our heads, and don't spend much time out of doors, and wear shoes that mis-shape our feet, and a host of other things that are considered normal in our current culture, we block or miss a lot of the benefits Mama Earth is trying to give us. It's amazing that a few moments actively paying attention to our feet on the ground, sensing our energy going deeply into the earth as if we were trees and had roots, can bring such benefits. But it can and does: don't take my word for it. Try it yourself.
There are, of course, myriad ways to ground, each fitting different applications, but that basic technique makes a big difference, and it's simple.
What seems to not be simple for many of us, doggone it, is REMEMBERING to ground. I've been at this for years, and I still catch myself struggling, struggling, struggling at something. Then, hello!, I remember to ground, which only takes moments and instantly feels soooooo good. Afterwards whatever I'm doing goes more easily and smoothly, and I feel silly for not having remembered sooner.
I used to get pretty aggravated with myself for not remembering, but it finally occurred to me how counter-productive that was, and now I tend to see the silliness in it, and laugh, which of course feels better, and is a much better reinforcement for remembering the next time. My friend Sarah adds this jewel: she has caught me smacking my forehead in the timeless gesture of "oh, duh!' and suggested that instead I stroke myself around my head and heart kindly- even sexily- and say, "wow, this is getting easier and easier to remember!" Laughter invariably ensues.
Imagine a world in which you scold your errant teen, "You're grounded!" and he or she scolds back,"yeah, well, you too!" and you both laugh and go into the backyard and ground together, sharing the bliss of that connection with the amazingly loving presence beneath our feet. In my experience, problems don't usually disappear when I ground, but they sure do take on a more balanced perspective.
Part of what happens for me, and is reported true by others, is that any feeling of being engaged in a power struggle lessens or even dissolves, and I can truly acknowledge in my heart that we're simply seeing different sides of the same situation, and both want good solutions.
Imagine a world in which our elected officials grounded at the start of any meeting? Imagine teachers and students grounding at the start of class (actually I did this for several years at a day care at which I worked, and it made a profound difference in the mood and tone of the class). Imagine a police officer grounding before he approached your car when you'd been speeding? Imagine you grounding before you get into your car to drive?
This stuff is fun, and I believe can go a long way toward helping ourselves, and then rippling out in marvelous ways. Try it. And if you have difficulties or want to take it to deeper levels, give me a call and we'll make an appointment.
Final note - grounding is very powerful near a tree, as trees ground powerfully all the time and are wonderful models for us. Practicing with trees is one of the best ways to get the hang of it. Yet grounding can be done anywhere - even on the hundredth floor of a building. The Earth's energy is huge, so no worries there. Try grounding in lots of situations and see what you think. I'll be fascinated to hear.
These days, the phrase, "you're grounded!" has come to mean something rather different.
Along my path of learning about healing work, I realized that there were times I'd do good work only to be left feeling airy-fairy and floaty and unable to do more good work. About that time I heard about a local healer named Warren Grossman who taught classes in working with Earth's energies, and through him I learned the importance of grounding.
Energy is energy, and ungrounded energy flies around and can't focus and often causes difficulties (think of houses before lightening rods). Grounded energy is useful, purposeful, and can accomplish a great deal. I found that when I remembered to ground and do my energy work, I could stay clear-headed and have a lot of energy coming from Mama Earth to source me, and when I didn't, I got goofy (I mean like walking into walls) and tired.
Over the years, I've taught many of my clients how to ground, and they often report their lives going much more smoothly just with that one missing piece; when they ground, they feel better, clearer, have more energy, sleep better, and digest their food better. Pretty amazing, considering how simple it is.
What is grounding? Well, it's simply putting one's attention on the connection to the Earth that is there all along. The thing is, when we get super-cerebral, living in our heads, and don't spend much time out of doors, and wear shoes that mis-shape our feet, and a host of other things that are considered normal in our current culture, we block or miss a lot of the benefits Mama Earth is trying to give us. It's amazing that a few moments actively paying attention to our feet on the ground, sensing our energy going deeply into the earth as if we were trees and had roots, can bring such benefits. But it can and does: don't take my word for it. Try it yourself.
There are, of course, myriad ways to ground, each fitting different applications, but that basic technique makes a big difference, and it's simple.
What seems to not be simple for many of us, doggone it, is REMEMBERING to ground. I've been at this for years, and I still catch myself struggling, struggling, struggling at something. Then, hello!, I remember to ground, which only takes moments and instantly feels soooooo good. Afterwards whatever I'm doing goes more easily and smoothly, and I feel silly for not having remembered sooner.
I used to get pretty aggravated with myself for not remembering, but it finally occurred to me how counter-productive that was, and now I tend to see the silliness in it, and laugh, which of course feels better, and is a much better reinforcement for remembering the next time. My friend Sarah adds this jewel: she has caught me smacking my forehead in the timeless gesture of "oh, duh!' and suggested that instead I stroke myself around my head and heart kindly- even sexily- and say, "wow, this is getting easier and easier to remember!" Laughter invariably ensues.
Imagine a world in which you scold your errant teen, "You're grounded!" and he or she scolds back,"yeah, well, you too!" and you both laugh and go into the backyard and ground together, sharing the bliss of that connection with the amazingly loving presence beneath our feet. In my experience, problems don't usually disappear when I ground, but they sure do take on a more balanced perspective.
Part of what happens for me, and is reported true by others, is that any feeling of being engaged in a power struggle lessens or even dissolves, and I can truly acknowledge in my heart that we're simply seeing different sides of the same situation, and both want good solutions.
Imagine a world in which our elected officials grounded at the start of any meeting? Imagine teachers and students grounding at the start of class (actually I did this for several years at a day care at which I worked, and it made a profound difference in the mood and tone of the class). Imagine a police officer grounding before he approached your car when you'd been speeding? Imagine you grounding before you get into your car to drive?
This stuff is fun, and I believe can go a long way toward helping ourselves, and then rippling out in marvelous ways. Try it. And if you have difficulties or want to take it to deeper levels, give me a call and we'll make an appointment.
Final note - grounding is very powerful near a tree, as trees ground powerfully all the time and are wonderful models for us. Practicing with trees is one of the best ways to get the hang of it. Yet grounding can be done anywhere - even on the hundredth floor of a building. The Earth's energy is huge, so no worries there. Try grounding in lots of situations and see what you think. I'll be fascinated to hear.
Tuesday, June 21, 2011
The Chris Botti Concert at Cain Park
Last Friday night my friend Bill treated me to a concert for my birthday (early). I happen to adore Chris Botti, and for any of you who aren't familiar with him, click his name and listen to a tune or two - he is an exquisite trumpeter, and here he was, coming to this intimate little venue practically in my neighborhood!
Cain Park has a covered stage and a grassy area, and we opted for the lawn tickets. I'd pulled together a rather wonderful picnic (if I do say so myself), as I love dining outdoors, and it was a gorgeous evening. We settled in on the blanket and started noshing away, catching up on each others' lives and anticipating a lovely concert.
It went so far beyond lovely that I'm struggling to find words to capture the magic of the evening. First, of course, is simply the pleasure of hearing LIVE music that heretofore we'd only heard recorded. No matter how sophisticated equipment becomes, nothing can compare with being in the presence of the musician. There is an ineffable Presence that comes through when you are actually, well, present, that simply isn't there when you're not there. That sounds obvious, but if you're like me, and you listen to a lot of recorded music, and enjoy that, and are grateful to live in a time of recorded music (ah! the freedom to listen to music that YOU choose when you choose it is a gift we modern folk often take for granted), it comes as a revelation each and every time that live music has MORE. You get to feel the energy as it's being created; it's a birth of sorts.
Next was the delight of Chris' introductions of the musicians he'd gathered for this concert; he introduced them at different times and highlighted their astonishing abilities in ways that were generous and humorous and said, quite clearly, that he recognized how fortunate he was to have this ensemble. I won't take time here to name each one, as that deserves a lot of space on its own.
Then he spotted a boy in the front row and asked if he played an instrument; "Yes, cello." "Do you practice every day?" I couldn't hear the reply, but it must have been no, because laughter erupted. This boy was 9, and toward the end of the evening, Chris invited him up on stage to help play a piece; do you think that little boy will ever forget that? Chris said that when he was 11 or 12 he heard Miles Davis and Herbie Hancock play "My Funny Valentine" for the first time, and within a few notes, knew he wanted to be a trumpeter. What a journey: this last January he was asked to play trumpet at the White House for the Obamas, the Clintons and the Carters, and got to play that same song with Herbie Hancock and Barbara Streisand.
What was extra fun for me is watching the energy. Everybody senses energy, often a lot more than we realize, and I also see it. First I noticed Bill's energy; he'd been relaxing ever since we got there, and now it stayed relaxed and yet the music energized him. His colors got stronger and more vibrant, yet in a totally relaxed way. I looked around and the colors all around got more beautiful. . .
And on stage! Wow, these folks really know that to make great music requires head and heart. The vibrant cords that I could see zipping and zooming between their hearts was quite astonishing, and their auras swam in beauty. . .
Even the grass all around us lit up and got more vibrant (I swear I was not on psychedelics!) and the fireflies seemed to pulse with the rhythm of whatever music was being played, whether hot jazz or quiet romantic melody.
The colors all around us were fantastic, and somehow coherent, not random or jumpy or anything but, well, wonderfully orchestrated. I leaned into Bill and felt the magic of the aliveness of it all, and how everyone there was unique and individual, and yet all were participating in this creation, we listeners in our own way, too.
After, Chris generously gave autographs and allowed pics with him, and I acted like the total adolescent I can be at times, and got both. Bill was not just willing; he encouraged me. I thanked him, and Chris, and felt like this birthday gift was a gift I would be recognizing in deeper and deeper ways for a long time to come. For now, I'll wrap up with these understandings:
When we create anything with skill and heart and put ourselves into it passionately, we unleash something magnificent into the world and energy is released that is loving and healing and joyous.
And we don't have to be world-renowned musicians to do that: everything counts. Make a sandwich passionately with as much skill and heart as you can muster, and that sandwich, I promise you, will be a better sandwich, an enhanced sandwich if you will. And you will enjoy the time it takes to make it! Try that with everything you do, and see what happens.
After the concert, I could see plainly that Chris was tired - for pete's sake, he'd just flown in from Australia and then done this concert, and stuck around for autographs and pictures. I couldn't understand how he was even functioning, much less doing it with grace and goodwill. Then I remembered a quote by Brother David Steindl-Rast, which goes something like "Sometimes the antidote to exhaustion isn't rest; sometimes it's wholeheartedness." Chris and his ensemble did what they did wholeheartedly, and now I'm inviting you and me to do the same with everything we do. Let's see what we unleash.
Cain Park has a covered stage and a grassy area, and we opted for the lawn tickets. I'd pulled together a rather wonderful picnic (if I do say so myself), as I love dining outdoors, and it was a gorgeous evening. We settled in on the blanket and started noshing away, catching up on each others' lives and anticipating a lovely concert.
It went so far beyond lovely that I'm struggling to find words to capture the magic of the evening. First, of course, is simply the pleasure of hearing LIVE music that heretofore we'd only heard recorded. No matter how sophisticated equipment becomes, nothing can compare with being in the presence of the musician. There is an ineffable Presence that comes through when you are actually, well, present, that simply isn't there when you're not there. That sounds obvious, but if you're like me, and you listen to a lot of recorded music, and enjoy that, and are grateful to live in a time of recorded music (ah! the freedom to listen to music that YOU choose when you choose it is a gift we modern folk often take for granted), it comes as a revelation each and every time that live music has MORE. You get to feel the energy as it's being created; it's a birth of sorts.
Next was the delight of Chris' introductions of the musicians he'd gathered for this concert; he introduced them at different times and highlighted their astonishing abilities in ways that were generous and humorous and said, quite clearly, that he recognized how fortunate he was to have this ensemble. I won't take time here to name each one, as that deserves a lot of space on its own.
Then he spotted a boy in the front row and asked if he played an instrument; "Yes, cello." "Do you practice every day?" I couldn't hear the reply, but it must have been no, because laughter erupted. This boy was 9, and toward the end of the evening, Chris invited him up on stage to help play a piece; do you think that little boy will ever forget that? Chris said that when he was 11 or 12 he heard Miles Davis and Herbie Hancock play "My Funny Valentine" for the first time, and within a few notes, knew he wanted to be a trumpeter. What a journey: this last January he was asked to play trumpet at the White House for the Obamas, the Clintons and the Carters, and got to play that same song with Herbie Hancock and Barbara Streisand.
What was extra fun for me is watching the energy. Everybody senses energy, often a lot more than we realize, and I also see it. First I noticed Bill's energy; he'd been relaxing ever since we got there, and now it stayed relaxed and yet the music energized him. His colors got stronger and more vibrant, yet in a totally relaxed way. I looked around and the colors all around got more beautiful. . .
And on stage! Wow, these folks really know that to make great music requires head and heart. The vibrant cords that I could see zipping and zooming between their hearts was quite astonishing, and their auras swam in beauty. . .
Even the grass all around us lit up and got more vibrant (I swear I was not on psychedelics!) and the fireflies seemed to pulse with the rhythm of whatever music was being played, whether hot jazz or quiet romantic melody.
The colors all around us were fantastic, and somehow coherent, not random or jumpy or anything but, well, wonderfully orchestrated. I leaned into Bill and felt the magic of the aliveness of it all, and how everyone there was unique and individual, and yet all were participating in this creation, we listeners in our own way, too.
After, Chris generously gave autographs and allowed pics with him, and I acted like the total adolescent I can be at times, and got both. Bill was not just willing; he encouraged me. I thanked him, and Chris, and felt like this birthday gift was a gift I would be recognizing in deeper and deeper ways for a long time to come. For now, I'll wrap up with these understandings:
When we create anything with skill and heart and put ourselves into it passionately, we unleash something magnificent into the world and energy is released that is loving and healing and joyous.
And we don't have to be world-renowned musicians to do that: everything counts. Make a sandwich passionately with as much skill and heart as you can muster, and that sandwich, I promise you, will be a better sandwich, an enhanced sandwich if you will. And you will enjoy the time it takes to make it! Try that with everything you do, and see what happens.
After the concert, I could see plainly that Chris was tired - for pete's sake, he'd just flown in from Australia and then done this concert, and stuck around for autographs and pictures. I couldn't understand how he was even functioning, much less doing it with grace and goodwill. Then I remembered a quote by Brother David Steindl-Rast, which goes something like "Sometimes the antidote to exhaustion isn't rest; sometimes it's wholeheartedness." Chris and his ensemble did what they did wholeheartedly, and now I'm inviting you and me to do the same with everything we do. Let's see what we unleash.
Monday, June 13, 2011
What's Knitting Got To Do With It?
For those of you who read my recent mini-blog about World Wide Knit In Public Day, you may be asking yourself what the heck knitting, in public or private, has to do with being "on the path." Knitting may have gotten more glamorous in recent years, what with Julia Roberts and David Arquette and all sorts of other famous types taking it up, but still it's pretty mundane, isn't it? What's it got to do with being on a conscious spiritual path? Lovely question.
Well, one of the ways to define meditation is as a time of focus, of letting the chatter of the world (and our own minds) drop aside and putting our attention on ONE thing. This process fosters a sense of calm and relaxation, and can be found in any repetitive activity. Runners, people kneading dough, folks chanting,planing wood, or playing the same riff over and over, often report getting into a mind/heart space in which there's an experience of timelessness, of being one with everything, of inner peace. . .and so do many knitters, at least until you drop a stitch and swear. Truly, though, one of the reasons new knitters find themselves becoming a little obsessive about knitting, taking it to work to do at lunchtime, pulling out the knitting when watching evening t.v., etc., is because it IS calming and relaxing, which is pretty cool!
Also, it seems to me that mundane and spiritual are not opposites, and it's the intention we bring to any mundane activity or event that imbues it with spirit. Haven't you ever been grumbling along through an activity, say mowing your lawn, and suddenly you notice a neighbor mowing his lawn, singing away, big smile on his face? And if you quiz him on what he's so bloody happy about, he says something startling - and possibly annoying - like "I'm just so glad to be able to do this for my family," or "this reminds me of my dad doing this every Saturday, and that makes me smile," or even "I used to grumble, but since my heart attack I just feel so grateful to be up and about. . ." Same activity, but a totally different perspective.
Knitting has changed a lot in the last 60 or 70 years, at least in this part of the world. What I mean is that just that recently, most families still knit their own socks and sweaters and even swimming apparel, if you can believe it, which is why they took such great care of them and mended holes. Nowadays for many of us, it's completely optional. Not being something you HAVE to do if you want to be warmly clothed makes it easier to have a more relaxed take on the activity; certainly no one in my household will go sockless if I stop knitting! So it's easier than ever to see it as a blessing, a pleasure, a lovely way to express your creativity.
But from journals and other first person accounts I've read, down through the ages when women and their men and children were all involved in the spinning, weaving and knitting of clothes, many DID find a spiritual element to it. It could be the sense of service to others (which was certainly beefed up during both World Wars when all at home were exhorted to knit for the boys!) It could be the opportunity to express one's creativity in the choices of color and pattern -- anything that enables us to express our inner creative fire gets us in touch with our inner spirit. And then it's back to the calming influence of a repetitive activity.
I'm certainly not the first to write about the potentially spiritual side of knitting. THE KNITTING SUTRA by Susan Lydon, ZEN AND THE ART OF KNITTING by Bernadette Murphy, and THE KNITTING WAY; A GUIDE TO SPIRITUAL SELF-DISCOVERY by Skolnik and MacDaniels are just a few of the books that have come out on this subject in recent years.
Lest this make you run out and get some needles and yarn so you can become a better person, hold on! I believe that knitting is, more than anything, supposed to be a pleasure. OK, maybe not every minute, not when you discover you dropped a stitch 8 inches up and have to unknit that whole section, but over all it is meant to be something you are GLAD to be doing. My daughter asked me to teach her to knit for the first time around 10 years of age, and within a day or two she was so frustrated and angry I said "step away from the pointy things!" I had happily learned to knit at age 8, but she has always been much more active than I was, riding horseback, training dogs, hiking and camping. She asked me again at other times, with similar results. It just wasn't for her. And that was fine.
Then one day she asked me, I showed her, and it took! Within months she was learning all kinds of techniques and patterns it took me years to explore, and had found many Internet sites that she enjoys and finds useful, such as Ravelry. Today, she is a superb knitter and belongs to a knitting group that meets regularly, as well as knitting at home and when she's out and about.
Most any activity can prove spiritual: it can ground you, enliven you, relax you, help you feel at home and one with everyone and everything. . . especially if that's your intent.
And Guidance is always reminding me, a key to being truly spiritual is to lighten up and have fun.
See you next week!
PS I love your comments; THANKS!
Well, one of the ways to define meditation is as a time of focus, of letting the chatter of the world (and our own minds) drop aside and putting our attention on ONE thing. This process fosters a sense of calm and relaxation, and can be found in any repetitive activity. Runners, people kneading dough, folks chanting,planing wood, or playing the same riff over and over, often report getting into a mind/heart space in which there's an experience of timelessness, of being one with everything, of inner peace. . .and so do many knitters, at least until you drop a stitch and swear. Truly, though, one of the reasons new knitters find themselves becoming a little obsessive about knitting, taking it to work to do at lunchtime, pulling out the knitting when watching evening t.v., etc., is because it IS calming and relaxing, which is pretty cool!
Also, it seems to me that mundane and spiritual are not opposites, and it's the intention we bring to any mundane activity or event that imbues it with spirit. Haven't you ever been grumbling along through an activity, say mowing your lawn, and suddenly you notice a neighbor mowing his lawn, singing away, big smile on his face? And if you quiz him on what he's so bloody happy about, he says something startling - and possibly annoying - like "I'm just so glad to be able to do this for my family," or "this reminds me of my dad doing this every Saturday, and that makes me smile," or even "I used to grumble, but since my heart attack I just feel so grateful to be up and about. . ." Same activity, but a totally different perspective.
Knitting has changed a lot in the last 60 or 70 years, at least in this part of the world. What I mean is that just that recently, most families still knit their own socks and sweaters and even swimming apparel, if you can believe it, which is why they took such great care of them and mended holes. Nowadays for many of us, it's completely optional. Not being something you HAVE to do if you want to be warmly clothed makes it easier to have a more relaxed take on the activity; certainly no one in my household will go sockless if I stop knitting! So it's easier than ever to see it as a blessing, a pleasure, a lovely way to express your creativity.
But from journals and other first person accounts I've read, down through the ages when women and their men and children were all involved in the spinning, weaving and knitting of clothes, many DID find a spiritual element to it. It could be the sense of service to others (which was certainly beefed up during both World Wars when all at home were exhorted to knit for the boys!) It could be the opportunity to express one's creativity in the choices of color and pattern -- anything that enables us to express our inner creative fire gets us in touch with our inner spirit. And then it's back to the calming influence of a repetitive activity.
I'm certainly not the first to write about the potentially spiritual side of knitting. THE KNITTING SUTRA by Susan Lydon, ZEN AND THE ART OF KNITTING by Bernadette Murphy, and THE KNITTING WAY; A GUIDE TO SPIRITUAL SELF-DISCOVERY by Skolnik and MacDaniels are just a few of the books that have come out on this subject in recent years.
Lest this make you run out and get some needles and yarn so you can become a better person, hold on! I believe that knitting is, more than anything, supposed to be a pleasure. OK, maybe not every minute, not when you discover you dropped a stitch 8 inches up and have to unknit that whole section, but over all it is meant to be something you are GLAD to be doing. My daughter asked me to teach her to knit for the first time around 10 years of age, and within a day or two she was so frustrated and angry I said "step away from the pointy things!" I had happily learned to knit at age 8, but she has always been much more active than I was, riding horseback, training dogs, hiking and camping. She asked me again at other times, with similar results. It just wasn't for her. And that was fine.
Then one day she asked me, I showed her, and it took! Within months she was learning all kinds of techniques and patterns it took me years to explore, and had found many Internet sites that she enjoys and finds useful, such as Ravelry. Today, she is a superb knitter and belongs to a knitting group that meets regularly, as well as knitting at home and when she's out and about.
Most any activity can prove spiritual: it can ground you, enliven you, relax you, help you feel at home and one with everyone and everything. . . especially if that's your intent.
And Guidance is always reminding me, a key to being truly spiritual is to lighten up and have fun.
See you next week!
PS I love your comments; THANKS!
Friday, June 10, 2011
Knitting in Public
Friends, I haven't waited a whole week to do my next posting, but this just has to get out there for anyone who doesn't already know about this:
this Saturday, June 11, 2011, is Worldwide Knit In Public Day!!!
Ok, I'll admit this won't be everyone's cup of tea, but even non-knitters may be curious about this 6th annual international event. It was started in 2005 by Daniele Landes of the United States, and she says that the first year there were about 20 events worldwide, although now it numbers in the hundreds. To find a "kip" (that's "knit in public") event near you, just click on Knit in Public Day. You will be amazed at the kips available not only all over the U.S. but also in Iceland, Estonia, Australia, Portugal, Scotland, Italy, Brazil, Italy, Greece, France and Monaco. . .it goes on and on. The events vary widely, and you are invited to host a kip, so if you like the idea, remember that this is held the second Saturday of each June, and plan something wild. . .
I'll be here with my regular blog post (can it really be deemed "regular" when I'm just starting?) next week. Til then, happy knitting, gardening, whatever suits your fancy. Isn't life just amazing?
this Saturday, June 11, 2011, is Worldwide Knit In Public Day!!!
Ok, I'll admit this won't be everyone's cup of tea, but even non-knitters may be curious about this 6th annual international event. It was started in 2005 by Daniele Landes of the United States, and she says that the first year there were about 20 events worldwide, although now it numbers in the hundreds. To find a "kip" (that's "knit in public") event near you, just click on Knit in Public Day. You will be amazed at the kips available not only all over the U.S. but also in Iceland, Estonia, Australia, Portugal, Scotland, Italy, Brazil, Italy, Greece, France and Monaco. . .it goes on and on. The events vary widely, and you are invited to host a kip, so if you like the idea, remember that this is held the second Saturday of each June, and plan something wild. . .
I'll be here with my regular blog post (can it really be deemed "regular" when I'm just starting?) next week. Til then, happy knitting, gardening, whatever suits your fancy. Isn't life just amazing?
Wednesday, June 8, 2011
Ready, set, go. . .
Hallo! Whomever you are, I'm glad you're here. This is new for me.
What do I mean by "Notes on the Path"? Over the years I've come to think of anyone making efforts to live a conscious life, a life of intention, as being "on the path." Many of us wander around letting life just happen to us until something convinces us we have a hand in the direction our lives take. This realization brings a sort of awesome joy, as well as a lot of confusion about what it all means. Also, in my case, helpless laughter at the often bumbling way I try to get a handle on what parts of my life I have control over, and what parts are outside my purview. I often get things exactly backwards, trying to MAKE things happen that aren't any of my business while neglecting to pick up the reins of things that are totally mine. Argh! But I'm given wonderful guidance from a variety of sources (whether or not I'm willing to listen) and would love to share those "notes" with others, as we help each other wend our way on this miraculous journey we call life.
I'm starting this blog with excitement and a certain amount of trepidation. My daughter introduces me to new folks as "the last great mind of the 16th century" with reason; I spend ridiculous amounts of time spinning amorphous fibers into yarn; I get excited about a strain of yeast turning a blob of dough into a beautiful loaf in record time (sometime remind me to tell you about the Mutant Yeast); I am hopelessly and completely in love with paper and pens and actual books. I meditate a lot, teach meditation, and play with energy such as Earth Energy and Reiki to enhance my life and the lives of clients around the globe.
My relationship with the computer is becoming amicable at this point, but that's been a long time coming. (It's also involved a huge amount of patience from computer savvy people, most notably said darling daughter). I'm not completely dim; I know what amazing tools computers and the Internet are. So I find myself at least visiting the 21st century for moments here and there, fascinated, awed, often flustered, and very grateful. Little by little I've ventured into the blogosphere and found camaraderie in the thoughts, feelings and perceptions of others.
Still, when guidance started suggesting that I begin a blog, I shut down. I would quickly change the subject, and at times stick my fingers in my ears and hum, "I can't hear you!" They insisted that my thoughts and feelings and perceptions about the guidance I'm given, which I usually only foist on family, friends, and clients, might be of interest and spark enlivening conversations. They pointed out that I had found that on other people's blogs. Still I resisted.
This resistance has gone on a long time. I generally listen to guidance pretty quickly, but on this subject I've been amazingly stubborn. Why? Because I'm afraid people might disagree? You might not like me? You may think my ideas are dumb? Maybe a teensy, but I recognize that as part of life. In fact, I revel in the fact that we are individual and therefore have unique opinions and ways of looking at the world.
I think the real issue is that, around the computer, I often feel DUMB. I don't like feeling dumb. So instead of buckling down and learning how to make friends with it, I've been avoiding. Anybody else out there do that with things you feel less than competent around?
But I'm finally taking some baby steps into this amazing future we're careening into, to share some of the guidance that comes to me, and some of the experiences I have. And the first bit of guidance is always, one way or another, to lighten up. Man oh man, can I take myself seriously! I'll bet YOU never do that. ( It can get a little annoying when I hear certain guides, notably the Three Grandmothers, guffawing over my self-imposed leaden attitude. I can't even get into a good sulk without hearing them snicker good-naturedly. )
Anyway, for a baby step, this is getting pretty long-winded. Thanks for joining the party. See you next week.
What do I mean by "Notes on the Path"? Over the years I've come to think of anyone making efforts to live a conscious life, a life of intention, as being "on the path." Many of us wander around letting life just happen to us until something convinces us we have a hand in the direction our lives take. This realization brings a sort of awesome joy, as well as a lot of confusion about what it all means. Also, in my case, helpless laughter at the often bumbling way I try to get a handle on what parts of my life I have control over, and what parts are outside my purview. I often get things exactly backwards, trying to MAKE things happen that aren't any of my business while neglecting to pick up the reins of things that are totally mine. Argh! But I'm given wonderful guidance from a variety of sources (whether or not I'm willing to listen) and would love to share those "notes" with others, as we help each other wend our way on this miraculous journey we call life.
I'm starting this blog with excitement and a certain amount of trepidation. My daughter introduces me to new folks as "the last great mind of the 16th century" with reason; I spend ridiculous amounts of time spinning amorphous fibers into yarn; I get excited about a strain of yeast turning a blob of dough into a beautiful loaf in record time (sometime remind me to tell you about the Mutant Yeast); I am hopelessly and completely in love with paper and pens and actual books. I meditate a lot, teach meditation, and play with energy such as Earth Energy and Reiki to enhance my life and the lives of clients around the globe.
My relationship with the computer is becoming amicable at this point, but that's been a long time coming. (It's also involved a huge amount of patience from computer savvy people, most notably said darling daughter). I'm not completely dim; I know what amazing tools computers and the Internet are. So I find myself at least visiting the 21st century for moments here and there, fascinated, awed, often flustered, and very grateful. Little by little I've ventured into the blogosphere and found camaraderie in the thoughts, feelings and perceptions of others.
Still, when guidance started suggesting that I begin a blog, I shut down. I would quickly change the subject, and at times stick my fingers in my ears and hum, "I can't hear you!" They insisted that my thoughts and feelings and perceptions about the guidance I'm given, which I usually only foist on family, friends, and clients, might be of interest and spark enlivening conversations. They pointed out that I had found that on other people's blogs. Still I resisted.
This resistance has gone on a long time. I generally listen to guidance pretty quickly, but on this subject I've been amazingly stubborn. Why? Because I'm afraid people might disagree? You might not like me? You may think my ideas are dumb? Maybe a teensy, but I recognize that as part of life. In fact, I revel in the fact that we are individual and therefore have unique opinions and ways of looking at the world.
I think the real issue is that, around the computer, I often feel DUMB. I don't like feeling dumb. So instead of buckling down and learning how to make friends with it, I've been avoiding. Anybody else out there do that with things you feel less than competent around?
But I'm finally taking some baby steps into this amazing future we're careening into, to share some of the guidance that comes to me, and some of the experiences I have. And the first bit of guidance is always, one way or another, to lighten up. Man oh man, can I take myself seriously! I'll bet YOU never do that. ( It can get a little annoying when I hear certain guides, notably the Three Grandmothers, guffawing over my self-imposed leaden attitude. I can't even get into a good sulk without hearing them snicker good-naturedly. )
Anyway, for a baby step, this is getting pretty long-winded. Thanks for joining the party. See you next week.
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