writing--ing

In the Desert there is no place to hide...

Wed, 31 Aug 2011 22:33:02 +0100

I am timidly skirting the boundaries of the desert—a wary coyote, cautious about taking the treat extended by the stranger. Curious, I advance and retreat, circling ever closer—a spiral dance to the far off, hypnotizing sound of Kokopelli’s lyrical flute. I am being reeled in. Magically. An enticing scent: the slowness of pace, the languid elusiveness that is so much a part of my nature, the multiplicity of forms revealed in shape-shifting sands, hot, flat surfaces—perfect for unhurried dreams, and the mud swirled arroyos exposing the gold and sand colored stones I pay a healthy price for up north as turf for my aged turtle. Enticing, yes, yet offered up by obviously challenging terrain—challenging to both mind and body. Muscles taut and body low to the ground, I advance, ready to spring back at any sudden movement in distance. My brow’s attention is fully drawn, and my target clearly in sight, but still I hesitate.

Why?

Perhaps it is a fear of the unknown, maybe avoiding commitment, responsibility, or deadlines: bindings. Perchance I fear success, fear piercing the bull’s eye, however, most certainly a sink or swim feeling, making this crossing into uncharted territory—alone.

In the desert there is nowhere to hide, no academic institutional cocoon to crawl back into, no friends or family to divert my attention, the end of empty-nest syndrome and birth into my own body—unfamiliar territory, even despised, full of forbidding and forgotten landscapes. I tremble before its blank pages. A pathway I must etch myself. Perhaps I fear being ambushed. There are no familiar trails to traverse, no footprints to follow, covered by the shifting sands. The desert’s dryness shows in the folds and wrinkles of a landscape mottled with age spots. This is a land that speaks to the passage into Crone-dom.

Moved from the safe canyon womb of my recent rebirth, I now sit, waiting in this transitional space, a water woman, a woman of old growth forests insulated by moss and ferns. Parked in a place between two worlds, between easily discernable fertility and abundance, and what on the surface is scarce and barren. Last year’s final quarter heralded a high learning curve, re-membering how to be a Conestoga woman: maneuvering the wagon in all weather conditions, dealing with frozen pipes and days with no water, rude awakenings to the earth quaking, pumping slow leaks in an air mattress, unable to communicate via technology, exorbitant fuel prices, skittish glances by folks leery about this woman traveling solo, and toilets throwing shit in my face. If it weren’t for the expansive views that beckon dreamers such as I, the absence of sound and visual pollution, the slowed pace, the spattering of lights created by woodpecker holes in the sky’s midnight fabric, the lullaby sung each night by Great Horned Owl over my coach, the coyote packs haunting howls after an evening kill, or the deep, mystical connection and love-affair I am having with the land, I would certainly have tucked my tail between my legs and headed home by now.

Home? Like turtle, I now carry my home on my back. Home is where I find mySelf.

Recalling with fondness the moist, spongy humus my Maiden seed took root in; so fertile a nest that much grew. Now after years of pruning and training, the foundation is laid. My espaliered fingers branching out in all directions: north/south, east/west, above, below. And now, it seems, there is waiting…waiting for that which has been pruned to spring into life and blossom. The silent stillness of the desert is a double-edged sword: both the stranger I fear and the warm place in which to nurture and grow my hopes of becoming a published writer.

Geometric Creation Story

Thu, 01 Sep 2011 06:42:41 +0100

WE NEED A NEW MYTHOLOGY

Once, long, long ago, at the beginning of time, there lived in the place of mystery, a wise, old spider. This spider’s name was Ariadne. Ariadne was a weaver of webs. Hanging suspended at the center Ariadne was the single point, or unity consciousness, and the first archetype of the sacred geometry she utilized to call forth all life into being.

Just as a cell divides and becomes two in order to birth new forms, to begin her web Ariadne projected herself outward on a golden thread; thus, the one becoming two. Duality was born. Returning to her place at the center and looking outward into the mirror of her projected self, she was able to sense distance. Ariadne could measure this distance as the radius from herself to her mirrored image. That distance secured, she then went about measuring the perimeter and arc of the circular web. Through projection both movement and space were born. The foundation of her creation completed, she rested, suspended at the center. Now energized by the divine dance of creativity, she realized that with each slight turn she made, she could witness another projected image, a fractal of herself, moving around the arc of her new circle. This tapestry of life now contained an assortment of opposites: dark/light, yin/yang, feminine/masculine, down/up, right/left and everything in between. The circle holds all. It, too, is an archetype of sacred geometry. Aren’t spiders amazing?

The fractals of possibility inherient in her initial self were so beautiful, so intriguing. And yet there was something missing. She saw that she was still alone. Finding herself rather narcissistic gazing at her own projected reflection day and night, she realized she needed to create a companion who would then be able to make choices. How fun it would be to interact with all the possibilities that would arise from this fantastic idea! Now enclosed within time and space, she simply swung herself over to her first projection and created another circle from that vantage point. This gave her twin full access to all the possibilities that she, herself, had. This brought relationship. It also brought tension, dichotomy, and balance. The Divine Dance had begun.

Ariadne, having created this initial symbolic pattern, realized that what had actually been birthed was continuous change and transition as movement between the two points with all the possibilities in between. The portion of overlap in between the polar opposites became the birthplace of all the geometric forms this spider would bring into manifestation. She had created the opposites necessary for further creation to arise. Now, in the interaction between the two twins, the potential for all sorts of possibililities had been born. The creative process involves two. All human creation arises out of polarity. All the geometrical shapes and archetypal patterns had now been projected into physical reality. All the mathematical configurations possible for new creation to happen were held within the creative womb or vortex of potentiality that Ariadne had created.

Her work was done, and her teaching?

With a strong, anchored center arises all possibility.

Your name was whispered before you were born,
And out from the mist your image took form.
The Spirit of Life had begun its quest,
To know of itself through the ultimate test:
A Being of Light set free in creation,
To master the gift of imagination!

Michael Dooley

From 'Totally Unique Thoughts - Reminders of Life's Everyday Magic'

THE ENNEAGRAM ACCORDING TO POOH

Thu, 23 Jun 2011 00:28:39 +0100

I am working on research on Enneagram correlations and wanted to share this fun correlation with you:
If you don't know your Enneagram number, you can take this quick online test.
http://www.eclecticenergies.com/enneagram/test.php

(Note that it is rather "sketchy" and your number might change with a longer, more thorough test)

Enneagram Style One - Rabbit
Enneagram style Two - Kanga (mother of Roo)
Enneagram Style Three - Gopher
Enneagram Style Four - Eyore
Enneagram Style Five - Owl
Enneageam Style Six - Piglet
Enneagram Style Seven - Tigger
Enneagram Style Eight - Gorilla (although he's a minor character, his character is cental to the stories he is in)
Enneagram Style Nine - Pooh

I am a Seven.

No Way...a TICK as a totem?????

Thu, 06 Jan 2011 00:43:54 +0100

Okay, so I expected nice, furry mammals...

In many shamanistic practices it is said that if you are intentionally seeking to know your totem animal, it will come to you - especially during a vision quest or while traversing the wild places. Most emphasize that it will come to you three times. As with everything else, these "friends" change overtime, although many of us have a few that remain our major totems throughout our life.

I have had the opportunity to soar, crawl, swim, leap and stalk with many guides over the years - my main allies being those who see and feel in the dark. I am grateful for owl, bat and recently bobcat and their guidance in being able to intuite, go deep, take risks, sense accutely and ferret-out what is often housed in the unconscious or in dream.
Most important to me is the Owl...I have been struck in the hair by the owl three times - twice in the Hoh Rainforest while hiking in the Olympic Peninsula in WA state and once hiking up Mount Erie in Anacortes. Owl continues to be ever-present in my life. I currently have several Great Horned Owls hooting me to sleep over the RV and one Screech Owl making its presence known while gazing at the stars from the hottub. Yesterday, while cheerfully walking up a hill in the fashion of Winnie the Pooh (in his renowned sceen where he states, "Tut, tut, looks like rain" -- I saw his friend "OWL" peering down at me from high atop a Sycamore tree.

But a tick?

Come-on...no way.

Lime's Disease...I've read all about it due to what has happened on THREE occassions. Twice in WA state, so no worries as the disease isn't prevalent there. Both ticks had attached themselves to my side, at my belt line, and upon removal had left a nasty hard spot that did, thankfully, disappear with time. I was always fascinated by the fact that both of them attached at the exact same site. ....BUT THREE??? Now there's something amiss here.

The Pinnacles pest I just picked up (who I now am having to consider a teacher) was just beginning to attach at the very same place. I pulled him out just as he was embedding his head. Again, I had a hard knot...but no head left within and he couldn't have been there more than a few minutes or so.

So, my musings today MUST BE in honor of the tick attempting to make its presence known to me. Ha!

What is the tick to represent? (If you have insights, I'd appreciate hearing them.) This is what I found out...(taken from ANIMAL TOTEMS: THE POWER AND PROPHESY OF YOUR ANIMAL GUIDES by Millie Gemondo and Trish MacGregor)
The tick asks what is attacking your joy and pep in life. Are you not paying attention to your health? Tick symbolizes the common sense need to be careful, even about small things. Like a tick, fear can be a parasite sucking life from you. Do what you want to do, take sensible precautions, don't let your fears cripple your enjoyment of life.

Over the past months, I've been working consciously to put my fears aside (dealt with closed spaces by going splenking in the Yoni cave in Hawaii and the Cathar caves in France - dealt with my fear of driving a big rig now pulling 42' across America and opened a woman's ritual chanting the powerful Hawaiian "E Ho Mei" ...and thankful my voice didn't crack!)

So, I guess Tick arrives with perfect timing...
...and yes, mom, I'll be very careful in the future!

Living in the Space Between the Notes

Wed, 05 Jan 2011 23:49:19 +0100

Many of us are obsessed with naming things, with labeling and catagorizing.

Socialized to believe in ultimate truth (which we are told is "knowable"), seeking perfection (which is relative - especially culturally) and then defining "normal" behavior out of these beliefs, we tag people and things and then don't budge much - concretizing our findings. For many of us, these concrete observations become just that: solid and fixed. Even with the folks we meet, some people form opinions of them based on their judgements (which often arise from skewed, unconscious perceptual viewpoints), and the next time we meet them, we don't "see" them or listen as deeply - having neatly indexed and placed them upon our concrete shelves. Psychologist Heinz Kohut might comment that these judgements we make and assign others are actually mirrored reflections of our own inadequacies and/or hidden fears brought into the light by this "other" who is actually reflecting a portion of our unconscious. Perhaps this tendency comes out of trying to make sense of our surroundings, affording us a sense of security. Perhaps it helps us to decide which "face" or "mask" to present to the situation or person upon our next encounter. This can, indeed, be comforting.

However, we now live in a world that is rapidly shifting. What we once adamantly named as secure is fast changing its own face; concrete structures are crumbling. "Security" is renaming itself. But what is it becoming? We may have to learn to bend like willows while waiting to find out.

How to navigate such turbulence?

Employing InnateNaturalGuidance might help.
This is best accessed by:

being fully present to the NOW
patience, trust and equinimity
utilizing our senses - especially listening
expecting that forms will change
slowing down and breathing...

Even our roles are rapidly morphing...to what you ask?
We live in a time of intense transition...technological advancements are being made with breakneck speed and are assuming roles humans once had, unemployment is on the rise and the career tracks we once labeled as "good" are changing. It is, perhaps, time to revamp our forms.

We all know that to make music, we need rests between the notes. Transitions. Rests are what is found between endings and beginnings...perhaps this applies to our time of great shift. I call this timeframe liv-I.N.G. in the space between the notes.

Psychologist Carl Gustav Jung has a term for the roles we assume, the masks we wear. He called them our Personas - the appearances we present to the world. To those of us who attempt to reject the stereotypes, the roles, the boxes and forms - Jung would say we have taken on the persona or mask of the "rejector" or "rebel." Roles, lables, names and masks exist. In fact, we all know that naming is a way of respecting and honoring people and things. A scene from the movie Shashank Redemption comes to mind where Andy Dufresne asks, "What was his name?" upon overhearing the other inmates sharing intimate, gruesome details of the death of a cellmate while grossly glossing over the fact that he was, indeed, a fellow human being. Here, however, the issue is how strongly we identify with or conform to the expectations and rules of the forms. With over-identification, occurances arise to display the holes in our belief-systems, especially when people begin to believe they are what they pretend to be. As the playing field changes, as is the present case, people loose their "concrete" footings.

Jung would say we have to withdraw from our identification with the forms in order to find our true self. Often our masks/roles and the status symbols we attach to them (car, house, degree, bank account) become veils - and for some - chain mail armor obscuring the inner self. How to remove these veils? How to regain one's footing during times of intense transition? Let go of the forms - let go of your nouns - begin to live as if you were a verb: create, express, play, engage and follow your heart's desire.

As we end one era (the past) and step into a new one (the future), time spent in the present is beneficial. In order to draw oneself into the moment:

Notice your breath - is it slight and shallow or long and deep?
Notice sounds - rain on the rooftop, the refigerator buzzing, your stomach gurgling. You might even consider the sound of a seed bursting open to reveal a tiny sapling.
Feel your body - stiff neck from looking at this screen too long? toes cold? inner smile radiating outward?
Deepen into the NOW

In an attempt to hold on to what we have determined to be "security" we have a tendency to cling to forms that are fast becoming outdated. Then, as they crumble, we experience suffering and loss. It is said that during times of turmoil, people either cling to their stances - sometimes becoming arrogantly fixed to their beliefs - while others begin to bend, and breath new possibilities into being. Living life like a verb, whether writing and musing, as I love to do, painting, walking, or singing - there are endless possibilities for being present and grateful for what IS. Breathing deeply, slowing the pace and deepening seems to encourage the NOW.

In closing, my son recently pointed out to me that at the end of the recently released movie, TRON, the "Creator" admits that he made a mistake attempting to create perfection. After a long time out in meditation, deep breathing and "talking to the sky" he realized that loving and being grateful for what is right in front of our noses (in this case, his own son) became paramount. I loved having my own son right in front of my nose during this conversation and the observation seemed appropos and a nice ending to my musings.
May you breath in s p a c e while living between the notes...