DAILY If death weds us to new life,With soul as priestInvite me now to don white veilAnd sacred vows repeat.Weep not companion of companions,Does despair make you fear?Open to emptinessGrow clearBeyond good and bad,Beyond visions, or wings of desireBelow what’s not there,The soul casts its netLife longing its peer.
Read moreInspirations: Transformation
AUGUST BLESSING
Mystery Of The Heart In August heat Petals of the rose unfurl Revealing divinity. Wonder and splendor grow From wet, dark dirt, Rooted in earth’s grief and loss, Releasing wild perfumes Of soulful flowering. However lost, whatever the folly, Grow the rose heart, Omnipotence made manifest. You are the gardener! At every turn Remember this. Cultivate the mystery of Being love.
Read morePartnering Prana
We are at home, happier, more expansive when invited to the party. Prana is the same. This energy, or life force is pervasive. It is source material. But when we beckon it to connect to breath with awareness and meaning, we make the party come alive.
Read moreOn The Road Again
Have you, like Willie, been itching to ‘get on the road again?’ Is the uncertainty, at best, and terror, at worst enough to make you press petal to motivational-metal and roar off toward new horizons? Is the inner emotional current growing such an insistently high decibel that you feel something within about to give way…the old brick and mortar cracking? Perhaps the edges of consciousness hear the resonance of Rumi’s dictate, “Seek the path that demands your whole being. ” This is an admirable directive at any time, but as life grows precious and precarious; precious because of passing time, and precarious from greater reluctance to risk, we cannot postpone this rough road. Despite it being steep and arduous, we are on the road again because most of us postponed it as long as we could. We chose the seduction of safety, or like Willie, we made music with our friends. We allowed turmoil to waylay intention, and wept when fear obliterated courage. The road of wholeness rises into the mountains, toward unknown destinations. It requires dreams, and faith to keep it going through steep, and twisty terrain. I am struggling with this road because I have not dreamed for too long, nor have I allowed the delicacy of fate and free will to hang in the balance. I have not wished upon the Moon, nor thrown coins in a fountain. If I cannot dream, or believe in my wishes, I cannot seek the path of my ‘whole being, ’ for the mystery of faith and fate stand side by side to the pragmatic good soldier. The voice of the dreamer opens the factual researcher to the unknown. The whole being contains and balances the visible, and invisible in equal measure. Becoming whole is to become efficient in what we… Read more »
Read moreBarn’s Burned Down, Now I Can See the Moon
If after tragedy we step out under the stars and actually look at the moon, we shall survive the tragedy in good form. If after profound loss we feel a new life growing somewhere within, then the good guys win. When we can move beyond the burned barn that housed our stuff, our beautiful stuff, the accumulation of life-memories, we are lit by a transcendent light off the moon. The Chinese got this proverb right. Great loss, whether of stuff or worse, of life, is a test of both courage and compassion, a time when choices take on greater poignancy. Are we able to standstill and admire what is, or are we paralyzed back to childhood fears? Can we recalculate and respond to new, unknown goals, and wider perceptions of dharma? When discussing dharma, life, loss and tragedy, the hidden planetary energies of Pluto are present, for She is the Goddess of the underworld, moving underneath times of crises and death. Her presence does not signify we remain in Hades, rather that we pass through its gates. Pluto’s real job is to offer life-altering experiences so we may learn to choose. She asks if we have we grown fortitude and muscle to cross the river Styx. Are we willing to relinquish the old life so it may die? Are we capable of transmuting its shadow? Pluto evokes the divine in its most primitive and powerful expression. Her love is willing to let us die so that we learn what we must in order to transform, and embody our divinity. Because we have a good friend whose house just burned down, we have been standing as witnesses to the transformative process within her. Hourly, we observe her ‘see the moon,’ despite the barn housing what she owned burned to ash. Sharing… Read more »
Read moreAngels All
Today is the anniversary of the death of the woman who gave me a second life, Helen Rosenstock. Because I am a late bloomer, she entered my life late, when I was finally ready for her vision, her tools of a transformative baptism. The person you know as Samantha, is not the person I started out to be. It’s true none of us are, but some of us are unrecognizable. When I found Helen, she saw I had walked to replace the original imprint. A year ago, when Helen died, she appeared to me as a plume of smoke, stopping by as if to say, ‘remember~ life is magical. She was magical, but part of her mystery was in her gifts being of the earth, and for the earth: She said, “In order to see what you think is mysterious, open your eyes wider to possibility. To perceive and listen to the invisible is a talent everyone has. She taught that I need only be willing, for transformation to begin. To grow intuition she reminded me I required silence to hear what is unspoken. To heal, I needed to become an empath, and to maintain a body strong enough to heal itself so that it could hold that power for others. One day, as we stood at French doors, she said, “To heal others, you do not need to know what they should do. Simply open the door so they can walk through on their on own legs. Stand as their witness.” She taught me to be an ‘ambulance chaser’ one night, by asking what I thought as sirens filled the air. “Loud,” is what I replied. She said, “You have a choice in consciousness. You can direct healing light to a stranger in need, or you can think, ‘loud.’… Read more »
Read moreTrash Talking ~ Stories, Lies, and Myths
Last week I heard myself trash talking. It was sarcastic and funny, but hurtful. If I had been talking about a friend, I would not have wanted them to hear. This was not about a friend. The trash was about me. Once again I had found a sneaky way to open a well-worn scab, gouged since childhood. Aside from feeling disappointed I had pinioned myself to that old wound, I was pleased that this time I heard myself. Why does it take most of us so long to hear our stories binding us as prisoners to the past? Why is it so difficult to hear how we unconsciously create our lives? Hopefully, when ‘enlightenment’ does occur there is enough shock value that we stop to reassess. Instead of washing my tongue with soap, I’ve decided to re-script the old myth. In creating a new story I’ve needed to ask: Who and what formed the original version? What mythos moved into place when I began believing and speaking that story? How has it served me? Have I made my external world match my internal script? What requires liberating in order to no longer unconsciously trash talk this wound? How conscious must I remain in order to participate fully in a new script? What is the muscle I need to move into the yet untold story? With ears growing more acute, I hope to feel into energies that create assumed myths. As I choose to un-hook from well worn inner identities, I seek useful tools to make myself known to me. I shall rely more on symbols for they are more powerful than words. I will turn ever more strongly to music and dance for they are far more compelling than lectures. I shall remember that joy trumps fear every time. I… Read more »
Read moreVisionary Shakti
The world is always asking we become visionaries, never more so than now. To create visions we must stop, take time, and offer space for them to unfold. They hold more power when we become clear, when we are willing to be a visionary creative force. Visions prefer anointing those who embody the dictates of their visions, who follow through and expand what is offered. Receiving the vision is a feminine, receptive event. Creating action of that gift, is the balancing masculine drive. The two must unite and dance together to awaken and embody Shakti, the sacred power of the goddess. Civilizations have spent 2000 years denouncing the goddess, the feminine Shakti of creation, but her time is returning, and she re-enters in full force as not only loving and nurturing, but fierce. She is the authority programing separation. She is the violent power shooting us down the birth canal, severing bodies from the safety of the womb so that we begin to participate in the dance of who and what we are to become. She infuses us with sacred light. She also schools us in chaos, paradox, and violence. Without the brutality of her warrior aspects we could not be erotic, nor would we have enough fierceness to transmute the shadow within. Her unrelenting chaotic madness inspires us to commit. She becomes the knife cutting bloodied karmic bonds. It is only in her chaos do we come to understand the importance of harmony and peace. This is not western views of divinity, which are limited, especially of the feminine. In other cultures, and other times, the multifaceted divinity of the feminine is what created life, and transmuted the ugly into the beautiful. This Shakti vision holds that everything is loved, nothing is rejected, as nothing is outside self. In… Read more »
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