Winter Solstice 2017

The celestial doings in our corner of the Cosmos often pique my own doings. The Winter Solstice, when the light begins to gain time in our days, is one of those significant “doings.” Light lifts me up, extroverts me, helps me.

“From out of the deepest, darkest night of the year comes a “new-born” sun, full of promise for days of greater light and warmth. It is this event that symbolically reminds us that light comes out of our darkness, the chaos of our lives, the heartbreak and the pain we sometimes endure. Yule is about promise.”
-From Wicca: A Year and a Day, by Timothy Roderick

As is traditional, at least for me, I use this time to reflect. Try to get up & out of the rut of my daily thinking and habits and take a look at this life I am living.

What am I liking these days?
What am I avoiding lately?
How’m I doing with that whole procrastination thing I’m prone to…
What are my actions saying that my words aren’t?
And the ever popular: that which no longer serves me: out!

I have a burn pit in my back yard. It’s not fancy, but oh so effective. It’s not for regular, uh, trash…but special refuse. (Now there is an interesting word, refuse. It can be both a verb and a noun, but basically meaning the same thing! I use it here as the noun).

Special refuse: things that once held a special place or meaning that must now be given up to disengage from any energetic hold they may have on/with me. To make space for anything new, a Solstice Burn is a cleansing, of sorts…

…Old drawings. Love letters from sundry exes. Recipes never successful in my kitchen. Years ago an acquaintance once burned 3 years worth of her old diaries at my Winter Solstice burn pit, the handwritten pages sparking, charring and flaring up into the night sky.
This year it will be just me at the burn pit. I will feed it some artwork, the crinoline from my wedding dress, and reams and reams and reams of papers with once meaningful words on them.

It will all be transformed in my heart, a fire feast to feed the returning light. To clear away the darkness that resides not on the physical plane, but in the energetic one…
…in our little corner of the Cosmos.

June 21, 2017

Imagine Your Solstice Day…

The longest day of 2017 is here.

How will each of us spend it? Along with Albert Einstein, I believe imagination to be the most important and powerful faculty we humans possess. So I imagine…

…Since it is a work-a-day Wednesday, I imagine many going off to work as usual. Yet when they come home there will all those hours of light still left to garden, play baseball, go downtown, grill, go see friends… Maybe just sit outside and read.

Families with children newly out of school are coordinating schedules and activities

Bonfires are being built and I can imagine all the thousands of rituals to honor the Solstice that are coming together right this minute…

The Solstice will be recognized and celebrated all over the globe today. We continue to resonate with the heavens and their eternal cycles, even in our earth-bound doingness

“Imagination is more important than knowledge. For knowledge is limited to all we now know and understand, while imagination embraces the entire world, and all there ever will be to know and understand.” ― Albert Einstein

May 21, 2017

Teachers

Teachers show up in our lives in the most unexpected forms. Today I want to talk about one kind of teacher that has popped up repeatedly for me: The Adversary.

Sometimes this adversary is obvious: an open competitor in a structured scenario, or someone in conversation with a declared opposing position about whatever, from politics to child-raising or best ice cream makers. While these are often situations that might provide us the proverbial “teaching moment,” these are not exactly the ones I want to explore here.

Rather, I want to discuss those teachers who are closer to us, those who are in our lives as a friend, a colleague, or a family member – on our “team” — yet this person is also reliably adversarial.

An example may clarify. I sat at dinner with a friend the other evening. An outspoken person, our somewhat new friendship is based in part on our mutual enjoyment in engaging in spirited repartee. We might spar over a wide range of topics from art, politics, or business. Sometimes I find our exchanges either intellectually or spiritually challenging – or both.

This particular evening she was darker than usual. She stated that money was all-important, declaring shamelessly that having enough and a lot of money was all that mattered. I countered with the rather usual chestnut that while money was convenient and surely made one comfortable, it could not buy one love or insure happiness. This is bedrock for me; a given. Imagine my surprise when she vociferously, sincerely disagreed. “Of course it can!” she roared. Then she leaned towards me and looked me hard in the eyes, saying with force, “Don’t be all stupid and an Aquarian-age myopic! See! This world turns on money, money, only money!”

I didn’t, couldn’t, reply. She was absolutely sincere. All at once I was inextricably and very aware of a deep core positional difference between us. As I sat there I suddenly saw my friend in her role as my current Adversarial Teacher. A spiritual teacher, gifting me once again.

As it happens in such moments it was just a microsecond in which all the similar such teachers who had come before in my life paraded before me. I won’t list them here – we all have them. But in that instant I saw them and knew them for the integral role they each played in my spiritual awakening. At the time, even though I may have given it lip service (“Oh, that witch is in my life to teach me a lot of lessons!”) I don’t know that I really, really, got it. Really. Appreciated. Lessons.

Sitting there at that table, looking at my friend with my eyeballs while in my mind’s eye seeing the march of others who in my (now long) history had challenged my opinions, beliefs, actions and accomplishments…
Without whom I would never have known who I was, really. What lines I drew and where. What made me fight. What didn’t. What made me passionate. What didn’t. And how very differently others do walk through our world.

And I was suddenly, astoundingly very, very grateful for these difficult teachers. In fact, I quite love them.

My friend and I hugged as we parted that night.

April 30, 2017

A Credo of True Beauty

photo by Lisa Z. Lindahl Diarmuid O’Murchu, a fascinating Irish scholar and social psychologist, puts forth one of the best descriptions/explanations of Bohmian of dialogue* in his excellent book, “Quantum Theology.”

I had always thought of this process (though I had no name for it) more as a way of being, really. When I thought consciously along these lines, it was in terms of “nonattachment,” or “objectivity.”

In my best moments, I strive to live life as a “dialogue.” I.e., unattached to any one point of view, deeply listening, open to all points of view without having to “have it” or “take it on” on a personal level, and being response-able — able to respond — hopefully with the greatest good in mind. At the same time to be aware of my own preferences and choices, and also responsible for my own condition in so far as I am consciously able (which one works at to continue to become more conscious). And always aware of beauty, supporting it, nurturing it, being surrounded in it.

This is the closest to a personal “credo” I have articulated in recent times. Deepak Chopra has said, “Quantum physics are the mechanics of creativity; reincarnation is the quantum leap of creativity…the soul takes on new expression.”[1] Until recently I considered Deepak’s comment to refer only to the life/death cycle. Today, I see its application to my own credo and attendant learning spirals: quantum leaps of understanding that leave me dying in one reality while popping into another – one that sometimes defies wordy articulation but can be summed up in a sweeping gaze while at the beach.

And, I have come to understand that I am endeavoring to practice beauty.

The dialogue between theology and science is not a dialogue at all;
it is a drama of the human spirit. ~Alexei Nesteruk

* Wikipedia definition: [Bohmian] dialogue has no predefined purpose, no agenda, other than that of inquiring into the movement of thought, and exploring the process of “thinking together” collectively. … allow group participants to examine their preconceptions and prejudices, …explore the more general movement of thought. … Dialogue should not be confused with discussion or debate, both of which, says Bohm, suggest working towards a goal or reaching a decision, rather than simply exploring and learning…

[1] Excerpted from a lecture in workshop, “Seduction of Silence,” April, 2005, Lake Lanier, GA

April 23, 2017

Matter vs. Consciousness as the Chicken & the Egg

In our current age of the almighty Reason and Logic, everything has been about matter. You know, stuff — the physical world. If you can see, touch, measure it – then it is real. Our reality is made up of atoms and photons, wavicles and quarks that form earth and stars and plastic, music and lipstick. Matter is primary…Right?

Not so much anymore. This is currently under debate. Consciousness is giving Matter a run for its, er, money.

In philosophical, spiritual and I guess quantum physics circles the debate is raging: which is primary: matter as we have always thought, or in fact consciousness?

The theory of the primacy of consciousness (vs. the long-standing incumbent Primacy of Matter) states that it is consciousness that’s responsible for creating reality. Under this thought it might be a “divine consciousness” that creates reality as easily as it may be any individual consciousness creating their reality. So, Joe Pizza Guy and God are co-creating our world. Well, that could explain a lot.

Kidding (?) aside, there is the popular doctrine that holds we all do carry a spark of the divine. So maybe the fact that we are busy creating what we call reality is that very spark of the divine that is being referenced? The god/goddess within creating our physical world?

A big but: if our understanding of what it is to conscious is to be aware of something, then how did that something come into being in the first place? It is a chicken or the egg conundrum. So these questions evolve:

can we have a consciousness without anything to be conscious of?
Does consciousness imply an observer and observed?
Or is consciousness by its very nature “aware” of and in fact is the wholeness that we name the Oneness…the very Isness?
In other words, is the state of awareness as pure consciousness experiences it foreign to the concept of duality so inherent in our matter-driven psyches?

To this last question I say yes, I think so. I think the human brain, so busy differentiating for, among other things, the love of control and organization cannot easily grasp that consciousness is a very different chicken. There is no “other.”

There is no other. That is the essence, the beauty of consciousness.

Why spend time pondering such?

Because we humans are evolving. Our consciousness, specifically, is evolving. To even make that statement can bring up a slew of questions for those who haven’t yet explored this area, as well as for those who have. Part of the current cultural unrest we are experiencing is that the tug between what I will call “old conscious” (and I do not mean this judgmentally, it is just an expression to delineate parts of a dynamic) and this consciousness evolution. Both live in individuals but also get expressed among like-minded others and result in a “group-think.”

None of this is bad. It can just become uncomfortable. Sometimes very uncomfortable. So some of us spend time pondering the ol’ chicken and egg…

Your thoughts?

April 9, 2017

Skill Building? Snow Shovels & A/C Filters

There is always something new to learn. A new horizon to befriend…especially for the homeowner. And where I live, in just the past week, both my heat AND my air-conditioning have gone on. Fickle spring weather? Climate change? Doesn’t matter…I still have to cope.

After over 40 years in Vermont, I know about cold weather. I know, for instance, how to shovel snow. I don’t particularly like to, but I know how. I even have a preference about which sort

of snow shovels are better. (The ones with crooked handles.) I know there are tools especially designed to remove snow from roofs, and ice from sidewalks. There are even sharp, clumsy looking cleats you can strap on over your shoes or winter boots so you won’t slip on that pesky snow or ice. I know about all these things.

But I am still learning about the seasonal changes, their nuances, here in the south. I am largely ignorant about how to cope in the hot and humid southern weather. I know nothing about air conditioning, specifically, air conditioner filters.

I was surprised, after living here in a Southern state for three years, to learn that I should have changed those filters! Who knew? In fact, I was informed by the sincere young a/c repairman, that every 3 months was preferable. Oh. Frankly, I’d forgotten I even had them; no alarm had gone off or anything, even after 3 years.

So I took a look. The cardboard throw-away ones were easy. The size was printed very big on the side, which was visible once I scraped off the layer of gray dust bunny-like stuff that had crept around that edge. So I just had to go buy another! But then I noticed that the 3 vents in the house were all different sizes. How inconvenient is that? Poor planning I ranted to anyone who would listen.

This time it was a nice young neighbor, born and raised here, who explained to me the relationship between square footage and vent size and placement. Oh.

Well, but not all my a/c filters were those cardboard ones. It turned out I had some sort of “microstatic” reusable somethings in a couple of the vents. I was supposed to clean and re-install these.

Okay; but there were no directions on how to clean said items. And boy! were they filthy. I only knew just how dirty because there was one corner in the larger filter that wasn’t quite clogged up yet; I could see through it, and see all the pieces of yuk shaking around while trapped in its reusable screen grid.

So using my common sense I tried vacuuming it. And vacuuming it. And then with a different brush head, I tried vacuuming it. All to absolutely no avail. I googled “how to clean re-usable air conditioner filters” and found nothing. Evidently this is so self-evident it is not even on You Tube. Hesitantly I took the smaller of the two reusable filters to the kitchen sink and tried water. I used the sink hose on it for a looong time. As I suspected, it all just turned to mud in all those tiny screen chambers in there.

I was beginning to wish for the old Vermont me who knew what she was doing.

I gave up and went to the local bargain store to replace the cardboard one. While there I looked at the packaging for the reusable kind and, Voila! finally saw some directions – in tiny print – for cleaning them. Hose. Outdoor hose. Full throttle. OK! Success!

Except…when I got home I realized that I had bought the wrong size throw-away filter. …Heavy sigh.

However I spent a joyful hour spraying the heck out of those reusable screens, watching over 3 years of accumulated crap wash out onto my patio stones. I made a concerted effort not to think of what I had been breathing in in my oh-so-very-closed-up-in-JulyAugustSeptember-house.

Ah, the satisfaction of house-wifery!

Now I can add air conditioner filter replacement and cleaning to my list of skills, right there after snow shoveling.

March 31, 2017

Here We Go Again!

I admit it: I’ve been absent from this platform for awhile. A creative hiatus, a pause, and yet a whirlwind of activity behind the proverbial cyber scene. So, now I am back! With a new look and lots of new topics and their attendant fun and informative (!) digressions.

So…here we go again. I hope you enjoy. Please let me know — love your comments.

Some of the things we might explore:

Pity parties. The default settings in a life. Fight or flight? The quality of memory. Soul consciousness. Maintaining one’s authenticity in an ever-changing world.

And, of course, the nature of True Beauty and its importance in our culture — especially these days!

Stay tuned…

July 24, 2016

Summer Visions

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July 17, 2016

The Curiousity Asset

“Curiousity killed the cat!” so begins an old sing-songed taunt tossed about when I was a child. It was meant to shame or deter someone who had poked their nose where it wasn’t — according to someone or something — supposed to be. The usual retort was “Satisfaction brought him back!” often accompanied by a final “Hmph!” and perhaps an appropriate sound effect.

I find it interesting that curiousity was discouraged. For me that curiousity is the very basis, indeed the seed of the desire to learn. It is the puzzle, the mystery to be solved, the great unknown leading us forward…

The asset of being curious…

What part does a curious nature have to do with with the pursuit of a formal education? Education is the passing along to upcoming minds that which is already known. As we progress through the educative process it can be augmented with the research process: “what’s next? what does this lead to/infer/prove?” And this is usually only entered into by those with the “Iamcurious” gene. So, while formal learning is most definitely lubricated by curiousity, a desire to know, it is really quite different from curiousity itself. And curiosity is nurtured and fed by triggers too often absent in a schoolroom.

So here’s what the curiousity cycle might look like: as a child we are full of wonder and curiosity, it is all about learning: there is a whole new world to discover. Then the teen-ager becomes know it all, having settled on his/her opinions and justifiably needing to feel independent and in charge. Next we humans tend to embark on the busy work of creating, managing and controlling; the productive years. This can be a very long cycle; some people never leave it — dying “in the saddle” as that saying goes. We carve out our lives, might get into our routines, some might negatively say “ruts.” Personally, I find stability very good for fostering creativity.

But as age and the longer perspective all those years gift us with, sometimes we begin seeing over the edges of our respective ruts once again, discovering anew. We get curious again about things that may once have been taken for granted, or thought we understood, or had forgotten, or didn’t have time to notice, care about or pursue.

For me some of these are birds, clouds in the sky, shamanism, science stuff like physics — which I always assumed was way over my head — and just the beauty of everyday sunlight, the Isness; that incredible beauty everywhere. I find I am curious about a great many things.
I am grateful for the time and wherewithal to indulge my curiosity, and despair only of my inherent laziness that stops me and says: “Let’s just sit and read a book, now.”

Well, that’s not so bad either.

To be curious is definitely an asset, not some annoying stick-yer-nose-innit bad habit. It is the foundational block for life-long learning. That old saying about the cat should be banned!

P.S. You may have noticed that I am using what is now referred to as the “British spelling” of the word curiousity, with a second ‘u’. That’s how I was taught it was spelled. I mean, without the -ity on the end, it is curious, correct? Spell check is always trying to make it “curiosity” — which just looks weird and mis-spelled to me. I don’t understand the fashion for changing the root word spelling when adding ‘ity’. Why do that? Just curious…

P.P.S. Oh, and in case you were wondering or worried, the cat in the uppermost left hand picture isn’t dead at all; she just likes to lie around like that.

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July 10, 2016

Aging: Knees, trees, 30’s…

photo by Lisa Z Lindahl I’m at the forefront of the baby boomers. Bet you couldn’t tell by my previous posts…

But for those of us who chanted “Don’t trust anyone over thirty!” we are now more than twice that and many of us no longer have the luxury(?) of a roadmap of how this aging thing goes. Granted, my situation is a little different, in that my parents were older when they had me, so I grew up with “seniors” in the house. Many of my friends are only now dealing with aging and dying parents, whereas I dealt with that in my early 30’s.

But mine is a generation for whom “old” is a dirty word. “Aging gracefully” means looking young for the most part. Being “Fit & Healthy!” is understood (too often) to mean being able to do stuff you did in your thirties, just like you did it in your thirties — like tennis, jogging, boating and you know.

So this sets up a paradox between my body and me. For instance, today I was watching the neighbor’s kid trying to take a large branch off a tall tree. The branch was at about second story height and he was having a tough time trying to saw it off; sorta wobbling on the tall ladder as he power-sawed. I started paying attention when I heard the squealing of wheels and looked up from my desk to see the kid’s pick-up truck with a rope tied to its hitch, the other end of which was tied to the big branch. I kid you not. I went to my front door for a better look-see. As the kid hit the gas the branch moved not one whit, but the whole tree shook. I thought it was going to come straight out of the ground. Or his bumper was going to land on the street.

I thought maybe this was being filmed. I remotely remembered a Laurel & Hardy skit, or was it the Three Stooges, doing something similar. When the rope snapped with a loud POP I jumped back, pivoting away from my glass door. Half laughing, half horrified. Until the pain shot through my knee.

Damn! Old knees! Can’t pivot on them at all — ever. So now, here I am on the couch with a wrecked knee. The branch taken down successfully — as am I. Nosy old lady got her just desserts!

Not graceful; doesn’t feel graceful. Not at all

In my defense, I spent this morning body-surfing. I wasn’t graceful there, either, though. But it was way fun! Caught some good ones. My mother, at my age, wouldn’t be caught dead in the ocean beyond her knees.

Hmmmmm.

So, no road maps about how to do this aging thing, how to do it gracefully, how to keep all the pieces and parts working so I can at least do, whether the doing is graceful or not!

Off to try and find the knee doctor’s number. Can’t remember his name…