Monthly Archives: March 2017

Off My Moorings

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Being off my moorings causes me to cling to the sides of my row boat, fingers digging into splintered wood. My rascal imagination pictures unseen whirlpools, sudden waterfalls, an unfortunate meeting with rocks. It is so much easier to let the fog of boredom slide in over the structure of the landscape of events. Of a piece, the same, predictable routine of anesthetized existence will prevent my death.

The wolf soul is tranquilized and told to go lay in the dark. The growling ferocity of self is drugged with fear and denied.

When I untie my self from caution, I am filled with fear. Where are the bow and aft ropes that stabilize my place?

My ability to be dissatisfied is a skill I have perfected over my 72 years. I want more of less and less of more and not that, this. The craving for unrealized goals calls out over the river front of my kedged existence.

I could be more; bigger; powerful; outspoken; of a leader. I could be less; down a size; in debt; lonely; hesitant; questioning.

And what shows me how I can stir up mud in my river shelter is the sense of resistance. I just want to have an adventure but not to leave home. I just want to be in a sustaining relationship but not go on a date. I just want to have a successful business but not get any further in debt.
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at shore

There are times when it is necessary to untie my boat, put a bag over my head and kidnap my conflicted self.

I am headed off to Toronto and Montreal and I can hear the muffled voice of whining hinderance beneath the cloth. It is time to see what happens when I push off in pursuit of new stimuli for the senses.

And I already know I can swim.

 

Everything Does Not Exist

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Everything Does Not Exist:

I have been surrounded by some people recently who are ill. He or she has had a relationship fracture. A dear life partner has been caught by a disease or the turning upon the body of itself.

Meanwhile, the social media feed has become a sewer pipe of toxic waste. The environment is under attack. Political systems are like a dissatisfied person sitting on a bar stool. Random flirtations with something new, looking for answers in all the wrong places.

 

Children of only the select few are protected. Women’s rights are being eroded so much it is like watching a glacier recede. The society is time traveling to the 1950’s.  Naomi Wolfe in her book Vagina analyses the fear based resistance when women are gaining power. It accounts for much of the current claw backs of equality.

An issue that has people in a state of disbelief is the strategy of passive genocide. From the earliest day in American history, the settlers embraced the concept of Outward signs of Inner Grace.

And in today’s political climate of the billionaire congress, there is a reversion to the old philosophy which has always run underground.

If a person is selected by God, that person will be male; that person will be white; that person will be physically attractive; that person will be healthy and lastly the badge of God’s love comes with the presence of wealth.

The removal of protection for the weak, the ill, the deformed, the outcasts, those who are not a mirror image of the white male billionaire model, is the logical result of the philosophy of grace and damnation. Passive genocide works. Street people die in the cold. Drug addicts overdose in a system of selectivity. The “lower classes” have a higher infant mortality rate.

The uber rich are having new hearts popped in like a simple battery change.   Hips, knees, shoulders, kidneys, facelifts, breast renewal options float around this select group.

At the same time, so many are in free fall out of the middle class because of the lightening strike of a single illness. A factory closes; a job ends and with it the entire structure of a life crashes to earth.

The greatest darkness that a social system can carry is the blindness to the understanding that no single person, or family, or class must earn the right to be included. Care and protection is a birth right. And it is in those countries that have the vision of equality that economic success is most vibrant.

The soul of a nation can be blighted. Slavery, native India genocide, racial hatred is a deep sickness that will be carried within the history of a country. The first step in creating a world that is calm, a world that is safe is to address the soul sickness that is held within a nation’s story.

Compassion, inclusiveness, equality, commitment to humanity are the real outward signs of inner grace.

Inevitably, each person and each nation selects a philosophy, a cosmology to reside within.

It is a time when each of us must select a way of moving in the world if there is to be a world which survives. We all count. We all count.

And when the pieces start falling into place, everything will begin to heal. The earth, countries and those people who believe that they are locked into some victim energy will be settled and whole. It is coming.

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Waiting For the World to Change

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I look out the window at my 50 year old maple tree and repeatedly have to dissuade myself from what I think I see. My neighbours hired a company to prune the tree over their side. The resultant lump/stub that is at an angle to me has a lyric flowing shape at one end. Several hundred times I have registered “squirrel”. Since there are dozens of squirrels skittering through the trees and across my roof it is not that strange a recognition response.

But it is not a squirrel. It is a stump of a branch.

How I perceive incorrectly arises from habit. It can only be corrected by habit. It is the only way up and out of the underwater world of conditioning.

The way that many people are responding on social media at the current time reminds me so much of dependent children. He/she wants the invisible friend to come and give him or her companionship and a sense of belonging. She/he wants the doll or  teddy bear or newly purchased item to end the yawning presence of isolation.

People are screaming out like those in the Carravaggio painting of Hell. Where is my saviour? Where is my government protector? Where is the dragon or the eagle that I can leap upon to lift me into the skies of new possibilities?

What fresh Hell is this?

They cling to anger; they cling to being right; they cling to the new crystal purchased from the New Age store; they cling to the heritage of blame their parents have bequeathed to them.

They post on social media, “Am I wrong? Tell me I am not wrong?” And the clarion call sent out over invisible landscapes draws to them their tribe of those who envision exactly as they do.

The difficulty currently is that there is no mass mindset to connect to and with, as we had in the past. In the 1950’s “we” knew things. We held the same chant books in our hands and repeated the same incantations.

When even the heads of states have become mad, what system is protection?
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And so we are left with the ever weakening hope that somewhere out there the world will come in and repair all that is wrong in our lives, in the government, in the manner in which we hold space for one another. All we need is more money or power to escape the trap. But it is our trap. We set it.

Now we see the system is all WWF; the realization that the game is fixed horrifies many who need stabilization from an outside force. As the images are shattered; as the desire to be rescued grows stronger; as the bitterness of betrayal grows, people are in grief and disbelief.

What Carl Jung has said is that everything changes in the energy of the universe when 10% of the population set intention.

 

We are the love we seek

Now is the time for us to grow up. It is the time to take responsibility for our past lessons. Don’t argue with the teacher! There is no re-test. It was a massive failure.

Look to teachers who have lead others out of chaos and into calm. Read the wise ones who have steadied the minds of those who were suffering. Grab a book by William James, by Thich Nhat Han, by Pema Chondra, by Walt Whitman, by Ralph Waldo Emerson and leave the chaos mind behind.

Now is the time for us to grow up and find our own path to compassion, to connection with all creatures that live, to the desire to protect those who cannot protect themselves. A child cannot move powerfully in the world. Only a mind that sees illusion for what it is and says, “I begins with me,” can create safety.

Waiting for the world to change makes you a slave.

Blindness. Walking in confidence

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Spiritual blindness clouds my vision at times. I keep returning to the programmed scripts of scarcity, competition, victimhood and this flat paper doll world construct where in we are standing in our underwear waiting for some outside source to dress us up. The giant hand will cover the shame of who we are without acceptable stylish cover. The controlling hand will give us the fabric of status. We will be anointed by validation. We will be absolved of our denuded humanity by the powerful outside authority.

The distance between where we believe we can go and where we can get to belief is always something I am aware of. Like someone walking in a mirage desert projecting in a landscape of oasis, my programmed reality is at odds with that which my spirit knows to be true.

The big work for me is to release the struggle. How do I go from what I am now to what I know myself capable of being? Where is the map? What are the instructions? Am I supposed to read it by the full of the moon or with a candle held behind it so I can see the tracings of the journey?

Like some lost, skitterish animal, meditation finds me stuck in a gully, or trapped under loose scree. Meditation brings me back to the container of now, of breath, of body, of allowing all of the fear-pain-anger to just exist in now.

we live in a grid

What my practice has done for me is to allow me to push the “Start Over” button. I have also found that sitting silence or chanting until my tears fall without check allows me to be loving to myself. I return to my intention to stay in the experience of growth.

In the past, I was in a self created classroom not unlike the one my mother described in the 1930’s. When she made a mistake, the ruler marks raised welts on her hands. When she did not learn at a rate or at a predetermined level of performance, she had to sit on a tall stool wearing a tall hat.
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In the past, I was in the classroom of perfectionism and I was brutal and unforgiving of myself.

Meditation allows me to push the re-set intention button. I start again. I view myself with loving kindness. Because I have come to understand that being human is basically a bitch, I know to be kind. Because I have come to appreciate that being born into a body IS the hell we all fear mistakenly fear in the afterlife, I have come to be more compassionate to all of us.

William James knew

One time when I was in Floatspace, I saw the souls as lights. They were in the waiting room between lives and each one chose to come down the shoot of energy into his or her mother. Each one made the commitment to come to earth and agree to be born. As I floated in the salt water, I saw a hundred thousand lights travelling to earth to agree to enter a body. They agreed to suffer pain, face death, walk in the mass delusion of whatever their culture had constructed because they wanted to learn.

We see what we believe

It takes my breath away, the bravery of souls. We are here to learn. I am here to learn. And it is through meditation that I can keep my focus and like an adventurer ask the question: What is the real map?

I get lost. I stumble. I forget to be grateful. But I know that this life is where it all happens. It is where we truly learn to love.