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What is Your Blue Star?

Thursday, April 16th, 2015

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The Hopi people we met in Arizona on a spiritual tour with Carla Woody (http://www.kenosis.net) allowed us to see and photograph a petroglyphic symbol of a blue star that appeared long ago, to signal their way home. The story they told us was that when they emerged through a sipapu or opening in the earth in northern Arizona, they met Masau, the guardian of the earth, who told them they could inhabit this world if they would abide by his instructions.

He told them to make migrations into the four directions, and after spreading far and wide he told them they would be signaled back to the place of their emergence.(http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hopi_mythology)  According to the Hopi records they inscribed into petroglyphs and according to their oral tradition, they migrated far into Alaska and Canada, west and east to the oceans, and south into Central America. Some of them stayed there and became the Mayans; others stopped in the pueblos on the way back and created communities there. When the blue star appeared, some of them knew if was time to return to Northern Arizona, the place of their emergence, and to form villages there. These are the ones we visited.

It’s a powerful story, and one that traditional Hopis believe is truth, not myth. They are still following their original instructions and living simple lives, planting corn (some of them still by hand, with a planting stick) and faithfully continuing their kiva ceremonies. When the faithful ones pass on, they join the katsina spirits, who live on the sacred San Francisco Peak, near Flagstaff. Every winter solstice they dance and do ceremony to welcome the katsinas back to the villages. Every summer solstice, they give them a ceremonial sendoff.

In the photo above, taken on Hopi land, you can see an ancient symbol of the migrations–three of them–in a spiral that took thousands of years. To the right, you see a person, and in the middle you see the blue star.

The Hopi have come home. Life at home is not easy for them. Promises have been broken and they have suffered and sacrificed. But they are staying true to what is central to them, what has heart and meaning. That is the place home is–not just a physical location.

Where is home for you? When you arrive at the center of your being, which I know you have, what signs do you have that this is your inner home? Even if there are uncomfortable things, sacrifices, even suffering that has been involved in you returning home, hasn’t it really been worth it? Isn’t it what life is all about?

What is the “blue star,” the signal that tells you it’s time to return to your real self, to cease your wanderings, to return to being the one you where when you emerged from the womb and the one you will be the day you pass from your body? Is there a call, a signal that tells you it’s time to make your way to the center again? How do you hear or see or feel that call?

Never feel lonely about being called to return. You know that even if it doesn’t seem like it when you’re out in the grocery store or at the movies, other people are wanting to return home as well. Every human, I believe, has a longing for this. And I, for one, am grateful to the Hopi people for reminding me that right here in our own back yard, we have an example of spiritual lives grounded in significance.

 

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Posted in conscious evolution, learning from the Hopi people, Photography, seeing oneself, shifting how we see, Tools for seeing ourselves | 11 Comments »

A Hopi Feast

Thursday, April 16th, 2015

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I am still digesting a precious, bountiful and nutritious feast that has fed me in ways I can’t yet articulate well. In future blogs, maybe I’ll find more words to describe what I’ve gained from the spiritual travel to Hopi land with Carla Woody, spiritual mentor and founder of Kenosis Spirit Keepers, a non-profit dedicated to preserving and sharing indigenous wisdom. (kenosis.net) For the moment, Let me share with you the visible elements on this bountiful table.

On a literal level, this feast was prepared for us by Charlene Joseph, a Hopi woman from the village of Moenkopi. We were welcomed into her home to learn about the Hopi way of life, which is all about Spirit. Perhaps you can’t see Spirit in the photograph, but it is the major ingredient–the primary flavor in every event, every “dish” that is part of her family’s life.

This feast is a tradition the morning after the night Kachina dances, which we were privileged to attend. Char’s husband, Harold Joseph, is a leader in his clan and has successfully negotiated many improvements contributing to Hopi life. He generously shared with us the elements of spiritual life that can be shared, since some practices and beliefs are kept within the hearts and minds of the men who lead the kiva ceremonies at the center of the traditional Hopi way.

The big bowls contain the traditional hominy stew that Char began making the day before, along with yeast rolls that the women in our group helped make. My husband Jon loved the fried dried red chilis, as well as the fresh green ones, since nothing is too spicy for him. I especially loved the tiny tamales tied in a traditional form and made by Char and Harold’s daughter, who took some into the kiva with the other unmarried girls who dressed up to take the dancers special food and have privileged seating within the kiva.

Another platter contains piki bread, which unmarried women make for their puberty ceremony. It is very thin sheets–almost like filo dough–that they process on a stone tablet, as has been done for centuries.

Having been fortunate enough to travel far from home and to learn from many cultures older than our American one, it struck me again that the ancient Hopi culture is right here in my own back yard. It is an island surrounded by Navajo lands, east of the Grand Canyon. But from my immersion in Hopi ways for a short week, I feel I’ve been far away, out of space and time. I’ve been nourishing myself from the generous table of Native people willing to share a way of life that is inspiring, courageous, and an example for us all.

As I digest and integrate my learnings, I’ll be sharing with you some of the “translations” from the Hopi world to the one  the majority of us inhabit. There are adjustments and commitments we can all make that could align us more directly with Spirit, help us avoid some of the potential disasters Hopi people warn us about, and support us as we attempt to live out the kind of truth that can change our lives and perhaps even save the world.

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Posted in caring for the earth, consciousness, learning from the Hopi people, shifting how we see | 13 Comments »

How to Make a Great Decision

Monday, February 9th, 2015

path

Sitting in sacred circle with a group of women, I listened to stories told by a group ranging from 19-90. Do you resonate with some of what they shared?

“I’m bursting with energy, but confused. How do I prioritize all I want to do?”

“I have a list of things I love, but I’m not doing that list.”

“I’m so distractible, interested in everything. I need to focus.”

“I have physical symptoms that tell me I’m not on the right path, and it’s still hard to trust doing what I love and know to be true.”

So what is the theme? It sounded to me like the question, “How do we see our path, and then how do we follow it?” This is an important and recurring theme that follows us through life.

Is the answer to discipline ourselves? To crack down and force ourselves to focus and choose? I think not! That is the old way.

This circle, facilitated by dear friend Elise Collins Shields, was an honoring of St. Brigid, descended from the Celtic goddess of the hearth. And so I asked Brigid to whisper in my ear about what we as women leaders, who are immersed in complexity, need to do. How do we discern in the new way? Here is what I “heard:”

As goddess of the hearth, I say, build a fire within to warm and bless your heart’s home–the place inside where you are who you’ve always been and always will be. This is a place outside time and space, a place only the heart knows.

Sit by the hearth, the place of warmth, comfort and safety within your heart and have a fireside chat.

Say to the Universe, “In this great journey where there are so many possibilities to manifest, I wish to liberate myself from outdated stories and beliefs and embody the IAM, The One, the Beloved, the Truth.“

Now ask–no, command that the Truth within you enter this room with eyes open, head held high, and speak what is next for you. Listen and “take it in.” Embody that Truth.

Then, rooted in and embodying that Truth, you will conduct a mediation with the mind, which will be a great help to the Truth in working out the third dimension details.

This is the right order of things.

This message from Brigid has stayed with me, and it reminds me of some important things I want to remember:

  1. The heart is the first place I want to go when making any decision. That is “the right order of things.”
  1. The heart is fearless about moving forward and telling me the Truth, and that will always come in Love.
  1. My mind is useful as well, and is a wonderful implementor. I don’t have to worry that my heart will lead me down a scary or impractical path, because the mind will always help with the strategic, clever and practical ways to manifest the heart’s truth in the “real” world.
  2. We all know more than our mind admits. So another question to ask   myself is, “What if I just did what I really know is next?”

This kind of discernment and decision-making is a great gift for a heart-centered leader. It will save time in the end, and move us forward in important ways.

Will you join me in making decisions in this way? Try it and let me know how it works for you.  I look forward to your comments.

 

 

 

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Posted in authenticity, bringing out your gifts, calling, coaching, conscious evolution, consciousness, feminine leadership, Guided imagery, heart-centered leadership, meditation, returning to essence, seeing oneself, shifting how we see, shifting paradigms, spiritual practices, Tools for seeing ourselves, women's empowerment | 2 Comments »

Which Road Will You Take?

Saturday, January 10th, 2015

roads

As I weep over the multi-layered tragedy in France, I am also aware of pain in other areas, both personal and institutional, all around us. The pain raises that age-old question once again, a question that is more dramatic than ever in this age where we are exposed to global events in the media in a very tangible way. What is our role when we see suffering, and how do we handle our feelings about it?

When I move away from the huge issues surrounding terrorism, religious intolerance and violent fundamentalism and concentrate on my own life, certain themes become clear. Some examples…

Clients always come to me with a story, and I come to myself with my own stories. All of us want these stories solved, and we usually approach them by trying to figure them out. When we get engaged on that level, we usually get caught in a loop, going round and round. I tell my clients and myself, “The answer does not lie within the story.”

My shamanic training taught me to be an ally for clients by looking at their story “through a different lens.” Instead of engaging with the drama, my job is to hold space for a larger possibility.

The story has brought the client to a crossroads, where there is a decision to be made. Do I take the same road I’ve always taken when issues like this come up, or do I take a road I’ve never taken?

I ask them to choose the road not taken, which is to engage not from the “smaller” self that becomes victim to every drama, but from the larger self which knows better. This self can look at things from a larger consciousness, from the soul level. From that level, there is a big, long journey visible.

And so the larger self can say about the current tragedy, “Of course you have these emotions about it.” And then that soul-self can add, “And what could be good about all this?

On a personal level, what could be good about a tragedy is that someone might respond to it by deciding to go down the road of truly seizing their life and going after their heart’s desire. Now there’s an exciting opportunity!

On an institutional level, when things fall apart, the good thing could be that the leadership sees old patterns that are not sustainable and embraces a larger vision that really serves their dream and also serves the planet. Hooray!

And on a global level, the good thing about a terrible tragedy is that it brings things to light that have not been recognized by the general populace, and they have the chance when they see what’s wrong, to stand for a new and brighter road to a different future.

The crossroads in all three situations present the choice between submitting to something that may feel like fate, or seizing our soul’s true destiny. I would like to hold the vision of that destiny, and to take a stand for that.

I do that through spiritual practice that reminds me of who I truly am and of my unity with unseen spiritual support. And I hold energetic space for change to flow through me and through others, who will make their own choices.

This is a tough discipline for sure. But that is what we are being asked to do, and why we may be on the planet at this time. So join me in responding to it all with–along with our natural grief and compassion–a larger and more powerful force that holds it all.

 

 

 

 

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Posted in conscious evolution, consciousness, managing change, meditation, overcoming fear, self-healing, shifting how we see, shifting paradigms, spiritual practices, Tools for seeing ourselves | 2 Comments »

Gross National Happiness

Tuesday, December 2nd, 2014

Bhutan

I had the privilege of traveling to the little kingdom of Bhutan recently, and one of the many gifts I received from that visit was the inspiration to spread the word about GNH. For Bhutan’s policy-making is guided not by the GNP (Gross National Product) but by GNH–Gross National Happiness.

It’s more than just a cute-sounding idea. There are documents outlining the four pillars, nine domains, and metrics for weighing and measuring progress. (http://www.grossnationalhappiness.com/) This little country of only 750,000 people is a model for a self-chosen set of values based on something we all chase: no, it’s not money; it’s happiness!

Thanks to our trip organizer, Narayan Shrestha (founder of the non-profit, Helping Hands), we were privileged to have a private dinner with the mayor of Thimpu, the national capital. Kinlay Dorjee seems humble, sincere, and clearly devoted to increasing the GNH in the capital and throughout the country. He spent some time introducing us to the four pillars, which are:

1.  Good governance

2.  Equitable and sustainable socio-economic development

3. Preservation and promotion of cultural heritage

4. Preservation and promotion of the environment

Pretty wonderful measures for policy-making, right? Let me backtrack to the inspiring back story.

In the 1970’s His Majesty the Fourth King Jigme Singye Wangchuck observed that economic growth had become the measure of growth and success across the world and at both collective and personal levels. Given the costs we are paying for this ideology, this enlightened king decided he would focus on a different set of values.

He came up with GNH, based on the belief that collective happiness of a society is the ultimate goal of governance. His legacy to his son, the current fifth King Jigme Kheser Namgyel Wangchuck, was the job of creating an operational framework for the growth of GNH in his country.

Finding that the four pillars were not complete enough, the Royal Government of Bhutan initiated the Good Government Plus (GG+) in 2005. Then the Centre for Bhutan Studies and GNH Research worked on indicators that now classify the values into nine domains. They are:

  • Psychological wellbeing
  • Health
  • Education
  • Time use
  • Cultural diversity and resilience
  • Community vitality
  • Good governance
  • Ecology
  • Living standards

Can you imagine a day when your government might ask if these nine domains are being addressed before deciding on a policy? For example, what if deciding on a policy for immigration involved asking, “What policy will increase cultural diversity and resilience?”

Can you imagine a day when corporate boards and executives might ask themselves how happy they and their employees and customers are, using these nine domains? How are corporate policies affecting the health domain, for instance?

And can you imagine a day when you might ask yourself if the decisions you’re making in your own life are taking these nine domains into consideration? Is that decision you’re considering going to affect the ecology of the planet? Your relationship to ecology will actually affect your happiness.

Some evidence I saw that these measures are working in Bhutan: the clean, sparkling rivers, which were like something out of a dream. Plastic bags are illegal; stores give out fiber bags. Tobacco is illegal and you cannot bring it into the country. People wear traditional dress–the men wear elegant robes over dark or argyle socks and dark shoes. The women wear lovely long skirts topped by jackets with a shawl collar often in a contrasting color. There is only a small military presence. Buddhist temples and other historical and cultural sites are beautifully preserved, and prayer flags fly everywhere there is a holy site or particularly stunning view.

Of course the country still faces challenges. But I was struck by the spiritual underpinning or energy, if you will, that was palpable everywhere. I felt an air of kindness, an atmosphere of reflection, an attitude of appreciation. This doesn’t stem from isolation; even monks were talking on cell phones. But it felt as if people had it straight that technology was not the end point. What they’re after is working with nature and with our own gifts, promoting what every human longs for: happiness.

 

 

 

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Posted in caring for the earth, conscious evolution, consciousness, creativity and empowerment, happiness, loving ourselves, managing change, new life, nourishing ourselves, policy making, shifting how we see, shifting paradigms, The Beauty Path | 7 Comments »

Lobo’s postscript

Monday, August 4th, 2014

Last week I was sitting in my meditation room where I had finished a meditation and was re-reading theologian Jean-Yves LeLoup’s translation and commentary on the Gospel of Mary Magdalene. In it, he was referring to the word “nous,” his translation of a word in the gospel that refers to a state of consciousness. The “nous” is related to what we call the imagination, but it is a higher state, a kind of bridge between the imagination and the realm of spirit. It is the state Mary Magdalene described as the plaee where she was able to perceive the risen Christ.

I was thinking that the “nous” must be where I meet helping spirits in shamanic journeys. Engrossed in these heady ponderings, I suddenly became aware that I felt a presence in the room. It was unmistakably Lobo. I didn’t see him with my physical eye, but I sensed his energy, as if he was prying his big body in between the table and the couch, as he used to do. Saying hello. Wanting to lick me in the face and stare at me with his big eyes.

I’ve felt his presence before many times, and have felt others on “the other side” as well. But the synchronicity of this visit (complete with the energy of his strong wagging tail) and my reading about the “nous” was…striking. I felt Lobo had come to teach me one more lesson. It was on resurrection.

My biological father was killed in World War II when I was just a baby, and he has come to visit several times to help me. The most memorable time was when one of my daughters was in crisis and I felt he had a message for her. So I took it down in the middle of the night. I felt him dictating to me, and the letter contained wisdom that I hadn’t been able to offer, in a voice that was not my own.

Visits from the other side don’t make sense to our rational minds, and yet you may have had an experience of them. It might have been through an unlikely visit by a wild animal. Or by receiving a stunning object from nature. There are many ways the “nous” can lift the veil for us, so that we can receive the love that needs no explaining.

I think Lobo came to remind me that our animals do indeed have souls, and that they become part of our “familiars,” our unseen tribe of helpers, whose wisdom and loyalty we can experience when we relax our minds into that imaginal space where they speak the language of the heart. There is a bridge to a place where we can experience the guidance that makes mystics drunk with the wine of spirit. The word “nous” means “we” in French; this land is a place of rare connection. And it is our birthright.

Thank you, dear Lobo, for your visit, and for this beautiful lesson. How lovely to know that you are waiting across that bridge that must be the rainbow bridge they talk about. Waiting to tell us even more about the new land where you romp freely, and still make your visits to our neighborhood.

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Posted in dogs as teachers, Imagination, shifting how we see, shifting paradigms | No Comments »

Lobo’s Lesson #6

Tuesday, July 15th, 2014

A family of coyotes built a den below our next door neighbors’ property, and must have been mystified for ten years by the next door neighbor dog who chased them one minute and howled with them the next.

We’re not sure what Lobo was saying when he joined in with their songs, but he sounded like a songdog just tuning up and jamming with the band. Since his howl was as loud as his bark, the cuteness would wear off after a few rounds, and we’d either be scolding him into being quiet or escorting the concert outdoors. The most the vet would theorize was that Lobo was part hound. But we knew there was real communication going on.

We always worried when Lobo was young and fit, and after disappearing for awhile he would return panting hard, obviously after having been on an exciting chase. A couple of times tufts of hair were missing from his hind end, indicating he had either been too slow, or had been surrounded by the coyotes’ notorious pack attacks. The fact that he survived meant to us that among the species there was a big game of chicken going on, and that the rivalry was mostly in fun.

Humans are the ones who are out of it where animal communication is concerned. We couldn’t figure out how Lobo was communicating with the coyotes, or with the fierce mother cows whose babies he chased. All we knew was that as we passed certain moms on our walks, he would give way. Not a word was said, but he would put his ears down and slow his walk, chastened. Other times, he chased to his heart’s desire despite the glares of the whole herd. Our horses were the same. Who knew why he could drive one horse crazy with his teasing, while he knew he’d better leave the other one alone.

Even though we couldn’t figure out Lobo’s communication, he had our language down pat. Over ten years he learned a lot of English, but the language that fascinated us the most was the silent, telepathic one.

Sometimes he would get lonely and bark after we left, our neighbors informed us. So we’d put a dreaded bark collar on him before leaving the house. In his later years, he knew we were coming. I would venture into the garage and open the door, the bark collar hidden behind my back. Often he would already be walking away from me to escape, which he would never do when I wasn’t armed with electricity. How did he know?

When his last days were coming and he began to fail, he told us as best he could what he wanted and what he didn’t want. One day I made an appointment to take him to the vet, and he refused to get in the car. No amount of lies about the great drive we were going to take, and no amount of treats would convince him. He already weighed in at 120 lbs., but when he was refusing to be moved, he could effectively make himself weigh 500. I gave up. When I called an animal communicator and had her do a reading on him, she said he hadn’t felt the trip to the vet was necessary. Later when he was sicker, he cooperated.

When his back end was failing him, we both had travel commitments and started to worry about him deciding to leave his body while we were gone. So I had a talk with him. “Lobo, we’re going to have to leave. Now, I know you’re getting ready to move on, and I know you’ll do that in your own time, whenever you’re ready. But if there’s any way you can wait until we’re all together, that would be great.” He stared at me with those golden eyes, as he had done at least once a day, and I knew he got the message. And, I knew he would do exactly as he pleased.

We are the ones who don’t think telepathy is natural. Animals must communicate using energetic frequencies, emotional tones in a scale we don’t even hear. Yet we probably could if we believed in our abilities.

I wish Lobo were still here to teach me all the languages he knew. Maybe even I could turn into a songdog.

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Posted in dogs as teachers, healing, Making friends with death, shifting how we see, Tools for seeing ourselves | 7 Comments »

Lessons from Lobo #5

Wednesday, July 9th, 2014

 

Lobo snake bite 

As protective and fierce as Lobo could appear, sometimes he was a big baby.

He must have heard Thunder speak to him like a great god who came ripping over the mountain growling and barking with a voice big enough to send him under the dining room table or huddled behind my office desk. Our Tucson monsoons are convincing for sure, but no amount of reassuring made them easy for him.

Jon made a big mistake when Lobo was a scared puppy who refused to venture into our swimming pool: he threw him in. From then on, Lobo would run along the edge barking at the water we’d splash up at him. He’d wade onto the first step and lie down there at the end of a long, hot walk in the desert. But no amount of cajoling would convince him to go deeper. He never blamed Jon; the trauma had been inflicted by the Great Pool God, who had sucked him in and pushed him under. For some reason the Pool God did not scare humans, but that was probably due to their stupidity.

Unfortunately, one fear Lobo had to learn from experience was his fear of rattlesnakes. One day when Jon was fortunately home, he heard a yelp unlike any he’d heard before. Lobo came inside foaming at the mouth, and hid under the dining room table. Jon could see two fresh pinpoints of blood on his nose. Clearly, Lobo had gotten overconfident.

After a couple of phone consults with neighbors who had various home remedies, Jon called the animal emergency hospital. “Don’t give him any antihistamine. Don’t give him anything; just get him here,” they counseled. $1800 and two vials of antivenom later, I picked him up the following morning. In this case, weighing 120 lbs. had been an advantage.

We decided that just in case he hadn’t gotten the message (after all, he still chased coyotes, mother cows and the neighborhood hawk), we’d give him snake training. We met the snake trainer out in Oracle, where he parked his truck full of penned rattlesnakes he had de-fanged himself. We’re talking the wild west here.

First, he put one of those evil Collars on Lobo, so that he could shock him if he didn’t pass every snake test: sight, sound, and smell. He put a wriggler down and took Lobo on a leash nearby. He turned around and ran; it was a pass.

Then he put a rattler in a burlap bag and annoyed it somehow, so that it rattled. Lobo got it. (Anything to avoid that Collar!)

Finally, he hid the bagged snake underneath Jon’s truck and called Lobo, unleashed, over toward the truck. Lobo leaped into the truck’s open window. An A+.

After that, on summer evening walks, we’d have Lobo lead, which he always did anyway. If he veered off the path, we followed him. In addition to being an amateur cattle herder, a rabbit population control officer and a coyote wrangler, Lobo was now a certified snake guide. When we’d find one in the yard, Jon would use our long snake tongs to hoist it into a big bucket, and he and Lobo would drive it a few miles away to vacant land and give it a new home.

And Lobo wore his snake nose tattoo proudly, probably figuring it was a badge of courage. We never had the heart to tell him that we saved his life, probably for the second time.

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Posted in dogs as teachers, overcoming fear, Photography, seeing oneself, shifting how we see, shifting paradigms, Tools for seeing ourselves | 4 Comments »

The Stunning Light of One Life

Friday, June 21st, 2013

I drummed as people gathered and took their seats, and then welcomed them and explained the parts of the unique event to follow. Creating a memorial service for a woman devoted to indigenous spirituality felt like a huge responsibility, especially when I worry about people’s comfort levels with shamanic practices. But the family assured me that everyone there would appreciate knowing more about this tradition that meant so much to…I’ll call her Sophia.

The family chose an outdoor venue known for its beauty, and we had chairs set up  across from a semi-circular outdoor “stage,” where we put a 6- foot table that would serve as an altar.

The table was laden with bowls full of seeds, candies, feathers, glitter, cotton, chiles, raisins, popcorn and piles of photos, special objects and flower arrangements, feathers, beads and Native fabrics. It looked like a combination of an exotic kitchen and an outdoor market.

First, we called in the directions and created a sacred space, me using my rattle and spirit water and saying prayers, as we stood and faced each of the four directions, and then by touching Mother Earth and raising our hands to Father Sky.

Then we began an adaptation of an indigenous Peruvian despacho ceremony. I explained, speaking especially to the children, that we would be making a present for Sophia, a package packed with our prayers, our memories and our symbols of all that was precious about her life. For our simplified version, we would create three layers of symbols on tissue paper, representing the lower, middle and upper worlds.

On the ground below the altar, we had placed the green and purple ceramic urn with Sophia’s ashes, and her photograph. On a hand woven green and purple Peruvian textile, I laid out white tissue paper, which would become the outer layer of the despacho. Then came red paper for the lower world-the world of the unmanifest.

“Sophia’s life was like a seed that will grow through her children and grandchildren,” I told them. “So I need some volunteers to place seeds and other symbols of Mother Earth.” All the grandchildren ran up.  

After making a traditional Southern Cross of sugar, the children sprinkled seeds, and then spices for the flavors of life: cumin, cinnamon sticks and chiles for southwestern heat. We offered rose petals for the beauty of the earth, seaweed to honor all sea life, plastic neon bugs for the creepy crawlers, raisins to honor the old wrinkled ancestors, and candies for the sweetness of the earth.

The family came up and offered  “kintus” made of trios of bay leaves, into which they had blown their prayers. It was a beautiful layer, and I invited people to come and look at it before it was covered. (We were demonstrating creation and death.)

I laid out green tissue paper for the middle world-the one we experience with our five senses, and therefore believe is “real.” Family and close friends had brought symbols and placed them on the altar, and now they came up to place them into the despacho and explain their meaning.

There were photos of outings, cards from favorite restaurants. Thread from Sophia’s sewing machine. A single dice and a playing card. The grandchildren all brought drawings or letters, some placed amidst tears. A co-worker placed a fetish made by her office, a heart wrapped with a crystal. A daughter placed a small elephant that had been a childhood favorite.The middle layer was a fine mess, like life. Full of treasures.

We covered it with blue tissue for the upper world. More kintus. And now the grandchildren tore up cotton balls to make clouds. They sprinkled popcorn to honor the lightening spirits. They sprinkled glitter shaped like stars, feathers for the winged ones, silver and gold candies for the rain and sun, angels.

It was time to wrap it all up. Sophia’s closest friend came up and helped me fold it all by holding the package—now white—while I folded it in the traditional way and wrapped it with a silver ribbon and a golden cord. I held it up and said a blessing for Sophia’s soul—may she fly.

The prayer bundle would be ceremonially burned by the family, and the ashes would be combined with Sophia’s ashes, and sprinkled as she had requested.

Now it was time for tributes and stories. People had written things, and people tearfully said things they hadn’t written. One of her daughters talked about Sophia’s beliefs, ending with her mantra—Walk in peace.

We closed the directions and the sacred space as I played my rose quartz crystal bowl, which produces a beautiful, reverberating sound that enters the heart. What we all wanted was to walk out of this ceremony and keep those hearts open paying forward the love we all felt. And so we listened to the reverberation, and I reminded us all that the heart’s love reverberates ever so much farther than this sound. We ended with, “May we all walk in peace.”

As I returned to my drum, which I played again as they made their way to each other, and eventually to food and drink and conversation, many whispered thanks. I was especially touched by one young man with full eyes, who said he had never experienced anything like this and that the power of it was almost overwhelming. And of course there were the children.

On my way home, my heart full from the love of this community, I had an extraordinary experience. I saw or felt a huge flash of light whip past the front of my car like a comet. It took my breath away. Tears came, as I felt this was an acknowledgement from the soul of this woman I did not even know. I could see and feel the stunning beauty of this one life, and the stunning beauty of each life. This light, this importance, this beauty of each life is what I want to always remember.

I came home and sat at my computer, and this poured out, along with my tears:

Oh, oh! The splendor of this one life!

It is like a star exploding!

And the whole cosmos applauds

As the fireworks resound throughout the blackness of space,

That is thirsty for light.

 

Oh, oh again!

Another burst of light as she transcends,

As she expands

Past her body

And flies

Free

Lending her light

To all who gather

At the well.

 

We earthlings have no idea

How huge this one life is.

Really, honestly,

How huge.

How bright.

How important.

How eternal.

How unforgettable.

It is awe-some.

Deserving of hands up to mouths,

In astounded speechlessness.

 

And this is just one soul

Making its transition.

 

Think of it.

What could yours be like?

 

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Posted in Alternative memorial service, children as teachers, death and new life, Making friends with death, shifting how we see, solstice, The Beauty Path, Tools for seeing ourselves | 10,422 Comments »

Passages

Friday, May 3rd, 2013

 

In my 30’s I began to photograph in earnest. Now that was back in the ‘70’s, so picture me stepping out in a safari-like photographer’s vest and smoking brown More cigarettes. (The More bohemian and rebellious, the better.)

I set out to explore the other side of the tracks. Mind you, I was raised in San Marino, CA, bastion at that time of white privilege, the John Birch Society (sorry if some of these references are too representative of another generation) and suspicion of “others not like us.”

I feel shame as I write this, but it’s my history.

I had lived in NYC and taught public school there for three years, so I was well “over” San Marino. But now in my adult, parental state (and back in the state of CA) I had only moved four miles away, into South Pasadena. Lawns still looked green, houses gentrified, and attitudes were changing slowly. I was in the mood for a rebellion.

I went north, into the “ghetto” of Pasadena at that time, an area full of lovely old Victorians neglected because of poverty and segregation. My camera was my passport. And architecture was my proof that I was documenting unappreciated treasures. I gained entrance into a new neighborhood and a new form of education.

What was valuable about “the old architecture” in society and in my own being that had been neglected? And what needed tearing down and renovating? What was family about? What if all the races lived together and formed one? I photographed these questions.

It was a time of great opening for me. My Victorian grandmother had passed on, and so had her way of life and viewing the world, graceful as it was. My parents appeared confused: pleased to offer me two lamb chops for dinner at the mahogany dining room table, and willing to work hard for my excellent education…yet mired in the ‘50’s view of life. I was just now trying to emerge from it.

The photograph you see is just one of the many photographs I took during that period. I had a show at a hip Pasadena gallery, showcasing several years of 35mm architectural photography. I considered it a tribute to a history that was passing, evolving.

I chose to show you this photograph because I took it in a beautiful old Pasadena classic house that I admired. On the chaise, upholstered in the perfect fabric for that period, lay a book that had been seminal for me: Gail Sheehy’s Passages. After all, I was in one.

Out the window lay some other land, one that was natural and still impressionistic and undefined for me—but one that was beckoning me. So I colored it with Marshall’s Oils, to represent new life. The path ahead.

What is your ‘old world’ now that you wish to honor as it passes and evolves? What would you photograph to represent it? And how does the new one look? What will be your passageway into that new way of seeing, that new life?

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Posted in conscious evolution, Creativity, creativity and empowerment, death and new life, inner landscape, managing change, Photography, seeing oneself, self-healing, shifting how we see, shifting paradigms, Tools for seeing ourselves | 7 Comments »

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