Archive for the ‘inner landscape’ Category

Plane Shadow

Tuesday, March 16th, 2010

plane shadowIn the fall my husband Jon and I flew our Cessna 182 from Tucson to Taos to visit friends who have a wonderful mountain cabin. On the way, we saw fall leaves coming to their peak, almost as quickly as time lapse photography on the Discovery Channel. By the end of the long weekend when we returned, spots of gold like this one had spread, and whole swatches of forest were brilliant gold and orange. Superimposed on it all, I would see a moving shadow of our little plane, projected onto the screen of nature.

Plato saw reality in a way similar to this, as I recall–shadows projected on the back of a cave, like a camera obscura. Is everything we are so attached to a moving set of illusions?

Part of the Flying Lessons process I teach is the notion of seeing that we can move our vantage point around, seeing ourselves and our lives from above when that is helpful, defying the gravity of events on the ground level.

Another flying lesson is about opening our hearts to the beauty and wonder of nature, and to the beauty and wonder of our inner words as well. After all, we are part of the creation, and when we see that we are full of gratitude and a sense of connection to the whole web of life. The stories that fill the “middle world” which we usually inhabit are like this shadow of a small vehicle moving across the canvass of nature.

The key here is that we can observe all this. We are the first species that is conscious of ourselves. We have choices no part of creation has had before. What will we do with this awareness?  Where will we travel on our journeys? What will our relationship be to the planet? What will our exclamations be as we observe our interaction with the planet; will they be utterances of wonder or cynicism? Small views or large? How curious are we to see what the extent is of our powers? How will we use them?

Or is the plane shadow just a “plain shadow,” just an illusion, just a passing image that no one saw anyhow?

What do you think? If, like me, you are a “philoser,” as I used to call myself when I was a child, and you too are sipping from a pot of tea, drop in and share your observations.

From the balcony

Monday, March 8th, 2010

aerialOK, so actually this was taken from our Cessna 182. Which is a balcony of sorts. From the window of the airplane, I look down on the stage of life, where stories are being played out. I wonder who lives in that house? What is the red building and what goes on there? What dramas have been played out in full view of each other, and what has gone on in hiding? What are the interior lives like of the people who live within that fence?

Many times with clients, I have them shift to a lens where they look at their lives as if from a balcony–or maybe a Cessna 182. Looking down on our lives allows us to see the big picture. You might ask yourself questions in the third person as you look down on your life, like:

Who is this person? Where did she come from? Why is she here?

How have his surroundings affected him?

What are her relationships like and where do they seem to be going?

What is his life work and is he doing it?

What needs to change to make her happy? What inner resources does she need to bring out to help her?

What is this person “growing” on the ground of their being? What is their life about?

What do you see from the balcony and how is it different from what you see when you are on the stage, in the middle of the action?

Winter Remembers the Spring

Sunday, February 28th, 2010

spring

I walk out into the desert’s winter, watching for signs.

The blonde brittle grasses part, giving me a glimpse of apple green beneath.

The hard ground softens for ants wakening to build spring mounds.

Black broken trees play dead, but tell me the sap is rising like warm honey in their limbs.

The mountains’ sprinkling of sugar pours down into liquid in the washes.

Wildflowers are plotting from deep within their seeds, imagining their riot.

And I thrill to the feel of my heart widening into the sweet flow of breath within.

The land is remembering me into new life.

Stalking beauty

Tuesday, February 23rd, 2010

banana tree trunkAs a photographer, I stalk light, but I also stalk color, form and everything that to me represents beauty.  Sometimes that means looking past something that is at first glance ugly or ordinary to find a new element I hadn’t see before.  That’s the reward: seeing something I hadn’t seen before.

California is host to so many interesting plants, and many of them seem, to a desert rat like me, downright tropical.  Like this banana tree.  I thought the trunk was a canvas full of a hundred abstract paintings. Here I’ve shared just one of them. I didn’t make it; I just documented it. Still, it was a discovery.  I found something I hadn’t seen before.  Something beautiful.

An easy version of a medicine walk is to just go out and stalk beauty. Go for a walk and look for something you haven’t noticed before that offers some kind of suprising beauty. Bring it back with you–in the form of a photograph or a remnant of nature, or perhaps just a mental image or a feeling inside.

Beauty is an antidote for all that is troubling today, and so it is medicine for the soul. There is even a life path that the Navajos call the Beauty Way. Walking with beauty before you, behind you, beneath you, above you, inside you. What a way to live!

How do you stalk beauty in your world? And how do you make sure you bring iit with you on your journey? Send your comments!

Fuel for the Journey

Saturday, February 20th, 2010

agave

What gives you fuel for your life journey? If you’ve seen my website, blog page and gallery, you already know that one source of fuel for me is photography. I love immersing myself in the study of light and the continuous discovery of how light reveals the ever-changing forms in nature.

Looking at this agave plant makes me think of other things that fuel me: a refreshing rainstorm; the healing touch of softness against my skin; the depth of the mysteries hidden among the events of my life; and the beauty of the contrast of light and dark within myself and my life. These things along with sitting with husband and our dog and cat by a fire; riding our horses out into the vast desert garden outside our house; reading to my small grandchildren; watching my daughters bloom as powerful women; and a glass of good red wine. And the list goes on.

If you’re making your own mental list now, check to see if you visit this list often enough. I love making art, but I don’t do it often enough. Playing piano and singing have delighted me all my life–so why have I stopped? When we don’t drink from the well, we begin to wither and become dry and brittle. We begin to mistake duty for real life and to cling to a mythical future time when we’ll live, instead of plunging in right now.

What makes your eyes light up?  What brings you alive? What stirs the god or goddess within? What makes your heart beat a little faster? These things fuel the life force inside–the creative power that causes us to truly feel and be alive. So what will you choose today as fuel–so that tomorrow you’ll spring out of bed feeling grateful for the journey?

Surrendering

Saturday, February 13th, 2010
self portrait with grasses

self portrait with grasses

I’m taking a wonderful tele-course from Craig Hamilton, who is teaching for Integral Enlightenment.  Craig seems to be a highly evolved, gentle and thoughtful human who is giving his listeners wonderful exercises for shifting their lenses to a place beyond ego. Even though this kind of surrender isn’t something we can “do” or “accomplish,” it’s so lovely and true when we experience that place that I want to extend and expand my experience of living from that place.

Craig led us on a guided meditation back in time to the moment when the universe had just begun, as a tiny seed or point of energy he calls the evolutionary impulse. We felt the impulse within that seed to expand and create, and experienced the evolution of all things. We were each within that pinpoint, and thus were asked to experience ourselves as the evolutionary impulse, now in the form of a body/mind. Then, through that lens, he asked us to view whatever challenge we are facing in our lives and see how that challenge looks.

All I can really put into words is that next to that experience of being the evolutionary impulse, or being part of God, my challenges look pretty insignificant. My body felt a great relief, a relaxation, a surrender. Now I don’t hve to do it all by myself, I remembered. Now there is no self that has to try so hard.

And how did this feel, we were asked.  Well, to me, surrender feels like being a blade of grass that is being gently blown by the wind. I bend, and am caressed.

And so, as my spiritual practice, I’m going to try to return to being that evolutionary impulse or that aspect of the Creator every day, which after all, is what every spiritual practice is about. If, once again, I can surrender to the intelligence of that Creative Force, I can be at ease, in grace, beyond ego–and connected to all that is.

What is your spiritual practice to move beyond ego, and how does it work for you?  What does surrender mean to you and how do you experience it?

A Sand Spirit Speaks

Monday, February 1st, 2010
Sand Spirit Insight card #31

Sand Spirit Insight card #31

Perhaps you’ve seen my Sand Spirit Insight Cards.  I thought I’d do a little free teaching about how they work by posting some of my own experiences.  So here’s the card I drew today and the little story of what it says to me.

Today I’m sick, and I’m also sick of being sick!  I’ve had a problem for over a year with getting over viruses that stick like a quicksand that pulls me down.  I’m not into laying low for another couple of months, even though I’m trying to be patient. So I asked the Sand Spirits for some advice.

This card #31 is an image I photographed horizontally;  that is, the way I’ve always viewed this card is the view that would be rotated 90 degrees. Since this software is still new to me, I couldn’t figure out how to rotate the image. So, let’s work with what seems to be firmly in place, even though I don’t want to see it that way!

When viewed in my “normal” way, I’ve always seen an eye with a tear falling from it. Sometimes that is a gentle hint to accept grief that I may be not willing to feel. That’s what I thought was up here when I first picked the card.

Now that I can’t turn it, and am forced to look at it “through a different lens,” (serves me right, I suppose) I see a seed.  The stone that was formerly the iris of the eye is now a seed planted in the earth (or planted within me, perhaps) that seems to be radiating energy out into the ground that is containing it. A drop of water (which I suppose could also be a tear) is penetrating its space, bringing it nourishment.

Hmmm. So there is a seed within you, Pam, the Sand Spirit says. And it is radiating energy into the very ground of your being, even though all that is invisible to you. And, this is a time for that seed to receive nourishment. It needs the “water” of pure emotion, the moisture and juiciness of Spirit. So don’t be dry and brittle just now. See if you can keep the soil, the ground within you moist and receptive.  The seed will appreciate it. And by the way, the seed is YOU!  The seed is your essence, which is after all, what you are wanting to bring out from within.

The important question is, what do YOU see? You may see something completely different in this image. If so, what is the form or figure and what is its message? I’d love to hear from you!

The Tree and the Open Heart

Tuesday, January 26th, 2010

Rincon treeWhen I took this photo of a stunning tree (is it a Cypress?) I encountered in Santa Barbara, I wasn’t thinking about an open heart.  I just noticed the golden light of the sunset on the trunk, and the wonderful geometric shapes of the branches.

But today, in thinking about the seminar I’m teaching on Thursday about living and leading with an open heart, I happened to look at my friend, the tree. I believe it has a perfectly open heart.  Its core is open to both earth and heaven, drawing nourishment from both, and giving back to each. A good model for living and leading, I think.

When I look at the tree, I also think of the yoga Tree Pose.  When I enter that pose, at first I’m just thinking about keeping my balance while lifting one leg and positioning the foot along my standing leg. Once settled into the pose, however, I’m able to lift my arms like branches, a motion that opens my heart.  Does this mean that you have to have your balance before you can open your heart?

I do know that when I begin to fall out of balance and am afraid, my instinct is to close my heart. It’s an old notion of protection. So the practices of photography and also yoga are good reminders. Regain my balance and open my heart. Sink my roots into the earth.  Raise my arms to the heavens.  See now, what the next step might be.

Stormy Weather

Thursday, January 21st, 2010

stormy ocean

I am lucky enough right this minute to be sitting by a large window looking out to a very stormy sea. You may have read about the series of big storms hitting the Santa Barbara area of California, and that’s where I am, on my yearly retreat with a women’s group I’ve known for 30 years.

We’ve had to rush out of the house every time the rain clears for a quick walk before diving back into the warmth of the fire. Not what we had planned. But does this qualify as BAD weather?

This group of women ranges from mid-50’s to almost 70, and we’ve seen some stormy times. Eight lives, eight stories, eight sets of weather that could make the hardiest person shiver. Three bouts of cancer in the group. Four divorces. One death of a child. Traumas with all the children who lived. Many tests of faith. And yet, as we listen to each other, we wonder: were these storms in our lives BAD?

Not one of us relishes or courts drama, and not one would wish suffering on another. But each time a roaring wind has struck us it has dragged gifts along with it. The learning and growth in this group is stunning. Maybe stormy weather isn’t bad, but just stormy.

The wind sweeps long rooster tails from the crest of each grey and white wave. Mud swirls at the shoreline, where a creek is depositing debris from the mountains. Gulls venture out to scout for surprises, new life deposited on the shore, fuel for whatever weather comes next. And I sit in comfort, just watching the drama, the wonder, the life force.

Solstice images

Wednesday, December 9th, 2009

Desert Solstice

Golden grasses,
brittle branches breaking underfoot,
hidden water,
last leaves gripping black mesquites.
In this desert
things are dying.

Quail bedded down
burst forth as I pass.
Surprising red plants flow along the wash.
The thrill of my own breath moves faster,
echoing the rising wind.
In this desert
something new is coming.

Cells fall away in me,
brittle old ideas breaking apart.
Old juices lay hidden away, reserved for drought.
I change every day, now faster and
in the dry, arid places of me
things are dying.

An explosion of wings breaks through my soul.
Colors appear, flowing through my center.
My life force quickens
as a storm gathers within me, promising flow.
In this desert within,
dark with winter,
light is coming.
                          Pamela Hale, 2009

Desert solstice_opt

And you?  How do you experience winter and solstice time in your outer landscape?  How about your inner one?  Does nature act as a mirror for you?