My Role Models

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Throughout my life, I have sought out books about, watched movies about a particular type of individual. He or she runs the seas of chaotic times with a true compass. No wind or waves or threat of kraken beast turns him or her away from the ultimate destination.

I selected programs about the detective who won’t take a bribe and continues the investigation no matter what the personal cost. I followed the life stories of those women born in a time of female inequality and suppression who lead a movement, spoke out in public, wrote copious treatises about human justice, who suffered indignities in order to maintain their diginity of purpose. Many women were arrested and force-fed in order to garner the right to vote. The pacifist who goes to jail rather than picking up a gun is in my eyes the most courageous of beings.

In my college dorm, I met a quaker girl whose uncle spent the entire Viet Nam war breaking rocks in a hard labor camp in Alabama because he did not believe war was a solution for any human problem. He was not considered heroic by his community. He was considered to be one who lived in his truth.

People that I so greatly admire cannot be forced off of their path of choosing to do that which is ultimately the act of greatest compassion. These people could and can not be convinced that their own sense of humanity is mistaken in the face of a current necessity to suppress others.

They are told to abandon their internal values during the playing out of whatever is the currently unfolding drama narrative.

“The cruel act is only for now. The jailing or oppressing of innocent people is just this one time,” they are told.

A role model’s strength is in the firm grounding in knowing who they are as they move through the world. They believe the vision of their values of equality and human justice without needing validation.

And what they all shared as they invented the impossible new technology, or spearheaded the movement to change the ten commandments of oppression, or stood alone holding a sign until others joined them was and is a strong sense of self. They did not check to see if someone else was with them, if others were dancing to the same tune, if their actions would allow them to be included in the folded arms of the tribal circle.

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Innately, people are kind. There are a plethora of studies that show what happens to social groups under great duress. When a threat is overwhelming enough, people will sacrifice themselves for others. Acts of great courage taken in the name of  compassion are recorded.

Sociological studies show again and again that when there is a clear understanding that all will suffer if a few do not intercede, that is when the quiet heroes appear.

My neighbour said, “What we need now is a shared value.”

I said, “We have a shared value. All human beings want to protect their loved ones, their children.”

When we can understand that protecting those we love, means protecting everyone who is human, then the temptation to drop our own internal values will have no effect upon us. We cannot be frightened out of our humanity; bribed out of the truth; threatened out of championing the weak.When we can understand that protecting those we love, means protecting everyone who is human, then the temptation to drop our own internal values will have no effect upon us. We cannot be frightened out of our humanity; bribed out of the truth; threatened out of championing the weak. When we can understand that protecting those we love, means protecting everyone who is human, then the temptation to drop our own internal values will have no effect upon us. We cannot be frightened out of our humanity; bribed out of the truth; threatened out of championing the weak. When we can understand that protecting those we love, means protecting everyone who is human, then the temptation to drop our own internal values will have no effect upon us. We cannot be frightened out of our humanity; bribed out of the truth; threatened out of championing the weak.

Perhaps what we are seeing now as chaos on the earth is just an intensifying of the lesson so that we finally internalize it.

But always, throughout human history, a few strong, grounded individuals have chosen to act based on kindness. These people are my heroes. They teach me that there is a place for ferocity in the name of love.

Self Ass sessment.

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illusion of stillness

Some days are stones. Some days are boulders.

February has had me practising being retired. No guests are in my house. No eight hours of cleaning direct my day. No readings at local psychic fairs written into my calendar. No yard work insists I landscape today.

I turned it off; shut it down; went into exploring the deep quiet of not knowing.

“What are you doing?” People ask me that. “What are you doing?” I interrogate myself. As I awaken in the morning I ask, “What will you achieve today?”

At night, I lay so comfortably relaxed in my perfection of bedness and look back through the day. “What happened today?” I ask myself.

But then I lose interest. I don’t care. It doesn’t matter. That narrative has run aground as firmly as a tugboat headed straight for shore.

Is drifting through the day a good or a bad thing? I keep interrogating myself mercilessly but I get no answer out of me. I am a witness neither for the defence nor for the prosecution.

I take out my tape measure pull it flat between my two hands, one held high and one held low. “Did you grow? Did you diminish? Here. Let me take your measure.”

I am not gorging on fat, sobbing into the crook of my elbow, cutting out pictures of crows pecking out eyes to paste on my vision board. No. It isn’t that bad. Nor is it that good.

However, today it is very easy to get every benefit even without going discount levitra rx outside or becoming alert all the time about how far one is going on the track or something has gone wrong to their relationship. Tips to increase sex power There are plenty of medicines available in the market place has revealed that the majority these cialis no prescription canada http://pharma-bi.com/category/bi-solutions/dashboards-scorecards/ products have considerable amounts of chemical contents. These herbal components are also known to contain aphrodisiac substance that has already been in use in ancient times by males seeking for a more enhanced cialis free samples sexual virility. Enzymes facilitate healthy viagra buy cheap pharma-bi.com digestive juices and enhance immunity. Some dreams come… I travel to the past. I am allowed into a wing of a castle where the Beetles are staying for an upcoming royal charity concert. The hall is narrow and has trestle tables set up. I walk along one wall and some of the entourage nod or signal to me. “He is famous,” I dream speculate.

I travel to other landscapes I cannot even describe because I have no waking experience of them.

When I see posts on facebook, I think, “Thank God that isn’t me.” I don’t want the drink, the food, the harsh sunshine, the sand in my pants. I don’t want the crowd of grinning people around me. I wish the others well but for now I seek my house, the magnificent bouquets I guy for myself, the satisfying one on one coffee times with old, dear friends.

I honour this time. Something is changing and I have no idea what it is.

I am unmoored…floating. The water is calm or slightly ruffled.

Releasing the need to work, I spend my morning learning and teaching. But it is disembodied, my connection with others. Social Media is like a hazmat suit. I can post from behind the protection of the computer screen.

I practice Win Hof with breath and cold water. One day I listened to Eminem as I plunged myself into the artic electricity. It was perfect.

“What next?” I keep untangling the wrapping roots of weed thoughts from my ground. I am. I am so focused on not being focused. For once in my lifetime. I hear that as a romantic song in my head.

For once in my lifetime. For once unafraid, I can go where life leads me.

I am resting in wait to know where the path will appear. I am content in this retreat. I breathe deeply into the silence. I am right here.

Change, Change, Change

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I can think of only a handful of times (cupped hand not flat ) that I have welcomed in change. Move a few letters around and you have the sound… chains. We like our chains. We lick our wounds. We proudly wear our hair shirts and find comfort in our unnecessary bravery. This is ME! We tell ourselves that. We sing ourselves to sleep with the lullaby of past stories. We reinstall the soft ware of suffering.

It is familiar and we recognized the scarred face of battle and survival. “Yes. I am tough. I am a veteran of so many wars, you would not believe it. Let me recite it for you.”

And then we think as the survivors of multiple wars, people wish for nothing more than to sit with us beneath the full moon in deep darkness. We will build a fire and recount the long, drawn out narrative of every single injury we have experienced. The picture of children gathered around a maimed elder fills us with purpose.

The great addiction is that embracing the beast of pain is familiar. We know how it bites, how to watch carefully so it doesn’t remove an arm, a leg, a cheek. It is my pet. Come to mama, pain.

Change comes into all lives, always. And it is in watching how our bodies, our minds, our adrenal glands react to it that we learn so much about self.

Skilled athletes know how to manage the body in mid-air, diving off of a cliff, plunging into the water, flipping head over heels. They show us that the success is through training and then abandonment to the moment.
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Our lives are full of one event after another. We may contract into the smallest of the tensed up toddler selves when we see what we are called upon to actually experience.

“NO.” This is what the voice inside the body says without mindfulness. “No. I don’t want to grow. No. I don’t want to risk being myself. No. I want to hold onto the tangled net of old rags that is my past as if it is a comfort stuffy… don’t make me let go.”

The work as any athlete or skilled person will tell you is to train yourself beyond the initial reaction. Muscle memory, repetition, mindfulness, being in the moment needs to be deeper than consciousness.

And as the athlete spins over and over high above a ski hill, he submits to each second of the experience. He trusts his body. She trusts her training. They trust the air and gravity. They trust the self that is beyond self. They trust the universe.

As we stand at the doorway of change, we can walk through with confidence if we have trained ourselves to see ingrained habits. We can instantly see fear, see the urge to drag a shadowy overlay of some past story to lay upon and muddy the current experience. Or we can know that the hundreds of times we have seen a “narrative” from the past and simply released it is now a magic power.

Now is new. This now has no past story attached to it. Throw yourself out the door, off the cliff, into the moment. Because change is as natural to us as the next breath. We begin again. Always.

Transition: walking the forest with no path

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I have had an exterior focus for eight years. The debt, the negative black energy of the penalty for making the same mistake repeatedly was heavy on me. I carried it on my back bent over but focused on the outcome which I was manifesting with each step, each new day with laundry, cleaning, taking care of guests. My dedication to my airbnb allowed me to free myself from the entity of past narratives. I came out of the dark of paying off, paying back, paying down the mistakes I had made.

The day I shut down my airbnb for an extended period of time, I flew North to be with my daughter and her family. There I sat quietly without an agenda and let us reacquaint ourselves. We sat together in the livingroom and I did not ask for, push for, yearn for more.

Arriving back in Kelowna, I came to the energy of NOT KNOWING. It was like a signpost on the outside of a town hidden under the fog. Welcome to NOT KNOWING. We don’t post information about churches, have giant symbolic representations of what you are to believe that we are.

flying above

When I was talking to a friend, I heard myself say, “The last incident in my life of empty time was when I was 16 and read books all summer on the lawn. I went swimming with the church group. But nothing was planned.”

And then I did something that I find works really efficiently to get around my ego fear. I can deek out from my protective personality, if I act quickly before the prison thoughts come in.

I signed up for braces to straighten my ever-increasingly collapsing teeth. I went in for laser treatment to remove the black hairs coming in. The manicure and pedicure I selected was more expensive, more skilled and longer-lasting than ever before in my life. My hair has been too dark for my skin for about five years. The beauty parlour I went to resulted in three hairdressers lifting my limp, dark hair consulting on the autopsy report. I am now Orange flame red with dark shadows underneath. I paid more than I ever have in my life before.

The sensation of walking out on the dead limb of a felled tree above a flowing river comes to mind. I hear, “You don’t deserve this. Money will run out. You should be more focused and working on a goal. You are trivializing yourself.”
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It even crossed my mind that the constant care the Kardashian Clan undergoes is actually work. Sitting there for hours letting someone attend to your long-neglected body is work.

Next, I decided to really press forward into the headwinds of this challenge. I sent for the anti-aging supplement NMN, bought Reverasol, started using the beauty products I had in my collection hidden away in a drawer in the attic.

Underneath the dissociation of discipline and obsessive focus on work, there lies a quietness I have not experienced in decades. I sleep deeply. I take time to plan meals that support my body. And as I fall asleep I think, “You made good choices today.”

Oh, let us be clear my habit of beating myself up for SOMETHING is still present. It is back there knocking on the closed door calling my name. But I have done so much work in my meditation practice and in my study that it is quite muted at this point.

Sometimes my “scout” mind runs ahead in order to protect me from attacks, on hands and knees reading the ground, sniffing the air for the presence of enemies. But I know I was born with the neurological pathways for anticipating the worst and I just say, “Thank you. But I have got this.”

Allowing Becoming

Next? I don’t know. I can say with calm assurance. I don’t know who I am becoming. It excites me.

Perception is Creation

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Since 2008 I have been writing about my work on my own perceptions. Mindfulness practice, being aware of what I think I am seeing and interceding to release the habitual ritual of reinstalling the same reality over and over, has taken me years of work.

I think in metaphors so at Christmas time I think of “reality” like a gingerbread dough that is rolled out flat on our counter. In an unseen split second, I push the cookie cutter into the dough and create the shape that I wield. My reality is a tree, or a snowman, or a snowflake. And then after I have cut away everything that is not what I realize as my truth I end up with the same shape again and again.

Life did not create the pattern of trees, or anxiety, or fear, or scacity. I did when I insisted the shape into the arising moment. Time is the element that I work within. This now I will be exactly as I have always been. This now I will carefully rearrange my situation exactly as it was in the past. And so I make an impression and push down hard. I cut away all that is what I do not believe. It is a process.

And when I yearn for more snowflakes and fewer trees I will give the casality to scarcity. Reality, the universe, the Greek Chorus of the massive shape of all is one called “them” made it happen.

The gifts that mindfulness practice have given me are multiple and unforseen. The challenge of watching my thoughts did not come about because I was seeking something. It was the result of my gift of creating tension, blame, loneliness, poverty, failed relationships.

When I was growing up there was a show called “Beat the Clock,” and I have come to understand that I have lived my life with the loud ticking of inevitable failure clicking in my ears. Hurry, grab it, make a list, do twenty-five things, prove yourself, measure yourself against everyone around you. Tick tick tick tick.

What I think I have come to understand is that I am the one who keeps recreating the perception that there is not enough: I am not enough; there is not enough money; there is not enough flow; there is not enough that I can possibly do in one life time so that others will see me as I want to be seen.
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Each day, each hour, each breath is everything. With mindfulness practice, I can sit calmly and not respond to the need to frenetically push the cookie cutter into the fabric of life to make something of it. Sometimes I just need to sit and see that the flat slab of what I think is reality is a misperception.

The distant view.

We are each in a frenetic race with our own minds. I am coming to see that existence is not about pushing as hard as we can to try to fill the hole inside. Constantly chasing a sense of being one of the anointed ones leaves us simply deepening our own sense of apprehended undeserving.

Running changes nothing.

The irony is that the harder I ran the more stuck in place I became.

Maybe there is no need for cookie cutters; or knowing; or pushing; or competition. Maybe there is just learning. Now that makes me feel really Christmasy.

The Interlude

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In my life there have been periods where I believed some new manifesting was underway and there was a sense of portentousness. At other periods I have experienced only a languidness like that experienced by an over-indulged southern Belle aesthetically trailing her vacuousness along a sumptuous love seat on the veranda. The surrounding circumstances like an oppressive heat created the most elegant nihilism of all. Moving here or there appeared to be pointless a simply staging for visual effect.

But the break, the disconnect, the hungry seeking for a yawning gap creates an interlude. It happens before something and it is a black line demarking the ending of a particular patterning in my life.

I am away from myself at the present time. I have closed the doors on my business for the upcoming months and flew up north to Houston, B.C. to spend time with my daughter and her family. I return to renew my connection to my daughter and get to know her three girls.
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Consciously displacing myself signals to me that this is the birth of new identity. After eight years of running an airbnb and being focused on paying off my debt, I am done.

What now? I have dreams. I have goals that have been put out of sight in the back shed. But most pervasive is the sense that this time, however long it extends, is a retreat from that which was.

When I stand up into the new energy, when I am driven by a passion again everything will be clear. But for now, the intermission allows me clarity. Not knowing is always the starting point.

Confusion is a Gift

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Recently I attended a film presented by the Kelowna film festival society. I loved its strangeness, its experimental questioning of reality. However, as I left two women ahead of me walked slowly while conversing. One said, “What was that?” The second said, “I couldn’t understand it at all.”

As I thought about it, I remembered all of the things I have come across that I just didn’t get. The list includes software, new technology, music, movies, plays, books, cultures, doorways, water faucets, foods. It goes on and on. Each time I came across that place of puzzled frustration, I knew that my brain was going to have to rewire, lay down new neurons, grow, become more agile.

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And being in a state of mindfulness gives us the scope and clarity to see ourselves flashing fear. It is by observing our minds that we see that we are purposefully locking ourselves into a state of stultified imprisonment. I want only what I have always wanted. I refuse to engage in a process that grows me to be something more than I have always been. The place of promise is in the confusion. The chance to become more is when we arrive at a place where we simply don’t know what to think. And that is when we learn how to think, how to solve problems, how to seek out the challenges.

I was reminded as I left the movie that being in a space of not knowing leaves us always without the small minded locked down surety that we are always right. And so it begins.

Easy Peasy

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As I was making my bed with the elephant imprinted sheets raising its trunk in the air to bring in prosperity, I was thinking about effort. Struggle, work, denial, sweat, striving, stress were all presented to me in my family as a sign of virtue. To work hard and to occasionally suffer greatly meant that you were a valuable person.

My entire family indulged in workaholism. My parents each had two jobs. My mother went to night school to become a hospital administrator. I came home each day after school and cleaned, did laundry, waxed floors. My social outings restricted to the library to “work” on school assignments. I took double loads at university, worked several jobs and danced in the campus Orchesis Modern Dance troupe.

I slid the sheets on the corners of my bed and thought about how ridiculous it is to require of people that they suffer from work enough to prove that they hold value. World glass gymnast, skateboarders, Olympic athletes, professional surfers do not look like they are out of control, exhausted and awkward.

beauty in the mundane


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Their performance is an easy, graceful flow. We see how completely they trust their own bodies as we watch their performances.

So what I have come to realize as I make the beds, prepare the house for the next guests seven days a week, is the effortlessness of it. I move easily, efficiently with skill. I do not take in deep suffering breaths and talk to myself about the challenge of hosting 887 people since January. I just stay NOW. I just enjoy the sunshine when I go out to sweep the deck or carry the garbage to the alley.

Acceptance of things as they are opens us up to a high performance life. We are trusting that the calm, expansive place of flow will bring greater skills to us. We will learn over time. We will get better at that which we practice. Anyone who is good at what he or she does knows how to loosen up and allow the skill to build with repetition. On the crest of the wave, there is a place of balance.

Vibration Setting

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I have spent the last three weeks reading, watching videos, listening to teachers who talk about the neurological patterning in the brain. These sources all emphasize the signature energy that an individual is operating within. I have downloaded three graphs that breakdown how much each form of emotion carries within it a “force”.

One graph even analyzes which chemicals are released when an individual is experiencing a particular emotion. The stairs spiral up to PEACE and down to GUILT.

For decades I have a practice of observing my thoughts and behaviour. As soon as I wake up, I check in to see where the hell I am now. I scan my body. I search back into my dreams and then I see where my emotions want to take me this particular new beginning.

It is similar to waking up a two year old. “Who will this person be now?” I ask myself about myself.

Last night a guest from India walked around the house most of the night and finally settled into a chair directly by my bedroom door to talk on her cell phone. I threw on my bathrobe and informed her that it would be best if you moved her struggle with insomnia to the kitchen area. Like a bad virus, her disease had become mine.

This morning I was so tempted… so very tempted to let myself sink down. The pain up the left side of my neck and into my ear were signaling that a migraine wanted to start. I have been carefully resting and meditating for three days to clear a cold and raw, sore throat. Yesterday as I sat in the coffee shop, I felt almost normal enough to not “feel myself” at all. I think that is called peace on the spectrum.

And so I put peppermint oil in the diffuser and began to remind myself that I was not a self indulgent weakling who allows the dark webby energy of illness and frustration to obscure my windows. I congratulated myself on being kind and understanding to the woman.

I found my gages, switches, buttons in my control panel and I turned on the higher vibe. As I now look out the window I see the yellow leaves like a thousand shining suns hanging in the air. I see their beauty and radiance. I have been breathing in to clear the guilt of anger that wants to store in my body. I blow it out.

beauty of small things

Remembering that how we feel, how we think, how we treat ourselves is all a result of habit, I once again practice. Lately, I have been in the upper ranges on the vibration charts.
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I know because I find my mind turns to absurdist humour when I feel safe and optimistic. Instead of responding to the political landscape by crouching down into a freshly blow open by explosive news fox hole, I write a comedy script. I find myself amused, my commentary wacky, unexpected and delightful.

My vibration level has moved up the scale. It is easier to resist ‘going out into the garden and eating green worms’. This is a saying my mother would throw at me when I was mourning the lack of care in my home. Nope. I go out looking for fireflies, for golden leaves, for the kind eyes of others.

I bring a light heart. While I was standing in line at London Drugs yesterday, I thought perhaps it was the “scowl” line. Everyone behind me was face- fisted, clenched with downcast eyes. There was a sense of aftermath grief that hung over the mannerly queue.

I put down a candy bar and said, “I am getting this candy bar from New Zealand in order to fool myself into thinking that my life is exotic. Maybe, I will think I have travelled when I eat it.”

Then I told the man behind me it was disgraceful that he had only two small items when I had seen him in the store for two hours. One was supposed to come to the cash register with $100 worth of items one had not intend to buy at all.

what did I buy?

The people in the line began to smile and talk to one another. They talked about their collection of this and thats that they had not intended to buy.

And just like that the entire group moved up a step or two in vibrational energy. It was a group of smiling people who were connecting to one another. It is magic. It is glorious, beautiful magic that happens when one has the courage to just play, fool around, talk to strangers. All energy fields are catching.

So I know I can vibe myself up higher today. It helps that I have promised myself a nap. I am the boss of me. Green worms have never attracted me even once.

Clinging to the mountain side.

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I awoke with the sledge hammer hades migraine that had eaten the left side of my head. My left ear felt invaded by some spine covered probing sea monster arm. The probe included the tightening wrench around my neck vertebrate. As usual, I woke up to a sense that I was in migraine torture land and then after the second full breath everything hit at once. The onslaught of pain, nausea, ear ache, neck saw grinding welcomed me to the day.

Mindfulness practice is so amazing in these times of the wave of physical punishment. I began by breathing into my neck and down my ear. The second issue was to calm down the story my ego was telling me.

Oh yes, you nasty creature, you love these openings for a dark tale that ends in grave markers in the partial darkness in some Victorian church yard. “This is your life from now on,” it hissed at me. “Today will be wasted. Your life will be wasted. You will never become what you want to gloriously be because your body is disintegrating.”

Ego tells an amazing ghost story, doesn’t she. And not just at Halloween.

I had fallen asleep listening to Joe Despinoza describing how he healed his body and did self psychic surgery installing new neurons for calm and optimism.

I had fallen asleep listening to how everything can be changed.

Ego cackled at me, “You can listen to that stuff all day but you can’t escape me. The pain is part of your life path. It is like a pet parasite that is your discomfort companion.”

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I sat and was breathing in light and settling into my body. Don’t resist it. I know this. Simply feel into it and let what ever is happening become part of me.

all in the brain

I took it slow and worked with all of it. There was no crushing defeat, no imprisoning sense of doom. A few tears flowed and I thought, “Pain makes me sad. I feel sad now.”

What I didn’t say was that this was forever, that the sadness would continue that I could never heal myself, that all hope for myself was over. What I didn’t say was that my ego was accurate and that the person I am now will be my forever energy signature.

I just sat. And the physical pain lifted. The emotional thrashing ended. What happens in the new “now places” will be different. Because I am learning and growing.

Despair is for chumps. (I am saying this in a 1930’s gangster movie voice-over).