I am . . . human, woman, white, German/Italian, tall…Texan, American…
I am my high school mascot, my religion, my political affiliation, my favorite football team, a drinker/teetotaller, vegan/carnivore…
Extroverted introvert, dog person/cat person…
We define and define…taking large pieces and chopping them down smaller and smaller…dicing our identity like an onion…
Labels..
We’re raised with them…asked to pick teams at an early age. Convinced to compete with the “other,” we learn to define ourselves not just by those we love, but also by our enemies. Layer upon layer of complications…We are like a work of art covered with Post-It pads, our beauty and truth hidden by haphazard arrays of colored sticky paper and attitude.
Labels trap us…labels of victimhood…labels of expectations…labels of history…
good daughter, winner, loser…
In the past few years so many of my labels have been ripped away, painfully. I was a runner until I wasn’t. I was a sister, a daughter, a leader, a helper…until death and circumstances took those away. And with each designation carved away, I felt like I was floundering until I could latch onto another purpose and identity. I’ve lived my life throwing myself into roles, becoming a caricature with obsessive chase for a title.
I recently participated in a guided meditation. Sitting in silence, I was lead through a stripping away..each label was removed….layer by layer…until there was only truth. And I imagined myself as a Rene Magritte painting of a window or door frame against a clear blue sky. I realized I was the sky…not paint or canvas or frame or images. I am the sky…without borders or boundaries, without labels. There is no opposite, no enemy, no reason to define the undefinable.
The most profound spiritual experience of my life was a feeling of complete oneness with “all that is.” I’ve shared it in my blog years ago. I was walking my dogs in the pasture and it started to rain. I began to ponder how I was more space than matter…and how my boundaries are temporary. My molecules…my atoms.. could disperse into the air around becoming one with the dogs, the rain.. returning to “all that is.”
I think about death a lot…probably more than what one would consider healthy. I don’t like the idea of a heaven where my ego lives on. I really want to lose that burdensome identity. What if death means we just dissipate and become one with everything…returning to our true state…no label, no role.
One of the most comforting works of wisdom in my opinion is Thich Nhat Hanh’s “A cloud never dies”
When the cloud is no longer in the sky, it doesn’t mean the cloud has died. The cloud is continued in other forms like rain or snow or ice. So you can recognize your cloud in her new forms. If you are very fond of a beautiful cloud and if your cloud is no longer there, you should not be sad. Your beloved cloud might have become the rain, calling on you, ‘darling, darling, don’t you see me in my new form?’ And then you will not be stuck with grief and despair. Your beloved one continues always. Meditation helps you recognize her continued presence in new forms. A cloud can never die. A cloud can become snow, or hail …or rain. But it is impossible for a cloud to pass from being into non-being. And that is true with your beloved one. She has not died. She is continued in many new forms. And you can look deeply and recognize herself in you and around you. – Thich Nhat Hanh.
I went in for a routine exam, but my GP wanted to chat. He asked me quite bluntly if I had ever been tested for ADHD. Honestly, I haven’t but it wasn’t the first time it had been suggested. I have no desire to be diagnosed…I don’t want to change the way my brain works. My mind is full of hummingbirds and I never want them to vacate. Those darting thoughts make me who I am. What seems scattered and unproductive is in truth the pollination of glorious flowers of thought.
Several months ago I had my first experience with Hapé and Sananga. Despite my mind’s tendency to acrobatic fluttering, my thinking was pinpoint sharp during that spiritual adventure. I can remember everything I saw, felt, and knew with such clarity…and the experience often returns to me.
Today as I walked my “gurus,” I saw gossamers in the trees with golden light reflecting. I remembered sitting among the cedars, looking up at the sun and being enchanted by the spiderwebs glistening. During that flight, I realized that I was at the center of an exquisite spider web…and that web was The Divine. She held me securely and provided me with all that I would need. Passing under the oaks today, I felt that security and love. I was transported a previous place and time…that time among the cedars… and realized that time is/was this time. There is no separation of then and now. There is only “IS.”
That state of mind brought magic this morning. Despite having two free-spirited dogs on leashes, five separate deer approached us. I see whitetail all the time on my walks but they always run away from us. But today they each ran toward us. With the first two I laughed and jokingly assumed they must be rabid…but then the next yearling ran straight up to us from the south and stopped. She looked at me and I could see the glint of light in her brown eyes. The dogs calmly watched as well.
And as we neared the end of the walk, I looked down and found a smoky quartz crystal – a precious gift. I held it in my hand and aloud thanked the Mother – the Web -who holds us all together.
P.S. – after I wrote all this, I decided to look up the meaning of deer approaching. What I found is in perfect keeping with the vision of the Mother Web loving me unconditionally:
“A deer approaching you is a sign of unconditional love, heart-centered energy, acceptance of self, and inner wisdom. Deer are wild animals, but just like the wildness of love, it can be tamed when trusted. In this way, a deer approaching you represents love that is on fire.“
“Let life be beautiful like summer flowers and death like autumn leaves” – Rabindranath Tagore
Christmas morning I walked my dogs in a dense fog and was enchanted by the hundreds of spiderwebs decorating the wintery landscape.
Spider webs symbolize so many things….the strength of fragility, the wisdom of nature, the patience of the spider and on that Christmas morning, as the world celebrated birth, the webs symbolized the nonduality of birth and death. I say “nonduality” because I realized that I could not honestly stand there, gasping at the beauty around me, and judge the spiders’ efforts to catch prey as “bad.” I only knew that at that moment, with my dogs on Christmas morning, nothing felt more important than admiring the glory of nature. Noticing every web seemed like a holy act.
Several years ago, my husband and I faced a series of deaths that spanned two years. The first loss was when our brilliant nephew decided to end his life. Then a few weeks later, my stepbrother died in a tragic trucking accident. My other nephew died. My husband’s mother died. His brother died. Then my baby brother died. There were others in between – close friends and family, averaging a death every 2-3 months.
Every loss and every birth changes us radically. I’ve never witnessed a birth, but the night I stood next to my brother’s hospice bed, holding his hand as he gently breathed his last breath, was as profound as any birth.
My brother died surrounded by family and friends. We stood in a circle around his bed, knowing it wouldn’t be long. One time he sat up and looked into the distance, pointing at a spot where nobody stood and asked “Who is that?” He smiled and relaxed. We talked and sang and even prayed around him. Then his breathing changed. The transition was so gentle…there were longer and longer pauses between breaths. Finally, as softly as a sigh, he was gone.
Symbols of life and death – the living spider, the rising sun, the dead foliage and web’s death trap.
But even with that final breath, I felt him there…his warmth and presence…the way you know somebody is in the room though you can’t see them. He “stayed” for a while…maybe 15 or 20 minutes and then the air changed and I knew that he moved on.
My brother could have possibly lived with a liver donation. I offered to share my liver with him but for a variety of reasons, that wasn’t going to work. After his death I wanted to do something to remember him and make a difference. So I worked to raise awareness for organ donations.
I would run a 30 kilometer race one year to the day he died…”running to remember.” The race was the culmination of a month-long campaign to sign up donors. Because the race’s location was a distance from my home, I stayed at a ranch closer to the event. On the eve of the race…and the eve of his death…several of us sat on the back porch when my phone beeped that I had a missed call. No number appeared but the phone indicated I had a voicemail. I want to mention here that my local cell phone carrier had made sweeping changes the year prior and all my saved voicemails had been lost. The robotic voice informed me that I had one new message. I played the message and felt the blood drain from my face. My brother’s voice brightly wished me a “Happy New Year.” He was sad to have missed me but went on to advise me not to try to call him back because he was going out to party. It was an old message from a few years prior. I played it again…and then I played it for my mother who cried with disbelief. But when I tried to play for the other people on the porch, the message was gone. And yet the MESSAGE itself was so clear. He’d moved on and wanted me to move on too.
One foggy morning in the back of the pasture near Lost Creek.
I have only shared that with a very few close friends but I feel compelled to share it on my blog. I know only two or three people will probably read this but I needed to write it.
His transition showed me how the cycle truly does continue…that spring turns to summer and summer to fall and then in the winter, we think everything is dead…but just under the surface, life is preparing to re-awaken. Yes, cliche and a little bit cheesy but such a profound truth that I still shudder a tiny bit. Death and life are the same. Bittersweet light and dark, blinding me and lighting the way simultaneously.
We came together under a waning crescent moon, symbol of the wisdom of the crone: a wisdom hard earned and hard learned. The golden hour of evening fluttered, coloring the scene Autumn. Tonight was our Samhain/Dia de los Muertos celebration.
I stepped out of my car, uneasy. I only knew a few of these women. Would this be like a re-run of the 1970’s “Mean Girls with Farrah Hair Laugh at the Tall Weird Girl?” I looked over the crowd…no Farrah hair, no Jordache jeans, and thank the Goddess, no fucking pom poms.
Today I was the Völva, my own fierce version, covered in runes of protection and symbols signifying I was a magical being. I tacked on my fringed veil and placed the antlers on my head. Already I felt safer. Then I grabbed my staff…my masterpiece. One of my talents is that I find bones. I don’t necessarily go out of my way looking for them. I just seem to run across the most perfectly bleached bones while I’m walking my dogs. And this was a perfect wild pig skull. The Universe nodding her head then gave me a perfect branch, almost six feet tall, angled at the top. This staff was designed by Gaia and glued by epoxy.
According to many sources, the Völva was a seeress, a female practitioners of Seidr. The name actually means staff-carrier so the staff inspired the entire “costume.” The blood of Vikings and Germanic Heathens – powerful pagan women – ran through my blood. I’d always known it but in the last few years I was remembering.
A few years ago I took part in a guided meditation to commune with my feminine ancestors on Mother’s Day. In my vision I found myself surrounded by a circle of women – all sorts, all ages. One in a red dress, dancing and spinning. Several swathed in furs, casting bones. The older women draped furs over my shoulder, warming me. They held me in love…pressing small divination bones into my hands, whispering comforting words I didn’t understand. (and until this very moment as I write this, I didn’t realize the theme of bones that seems to repeat).
And today I was again surrounded by a wild array of women. La Catrinas danced to Nancy Sinatra. A mermaid gracefully swam by to her music. A crystal princess presented me with a magical stone while a lovely witch read my cards. Laughter, the song of the Goddess Iambe, tinkled like windchimes. A group of butterflies is called a kaleidoscope… and that is the most appropriate term I could imagine for this gathering of Divine Feminine Forces…a kaleidoscope of feminine energy and color.
The evening grew to night and we danced, ate, and laughed, joining our energies together in a way only women can. Monarchs travel alone but in the evenings they rest together, clustering in roosts to stay warm. Anybody who has ever encountered hundreds or thousands of butterflies dancing together on the wind will never forget the experience. Samhain Eve was like that. Clustered together, my kaleidoscope of swirling, dancing sisters warming each other for the long journey ahead is a memory I will never forget.
If you leave a human, a dog, and a chimpanzee on a deserted island, who stands the best chance of survival? Odds are the human will have the most difficult time surviving. So many other species are much more capable of enduring harsh conditions on their own. And yet humans have managed to thrive on this planet. What gives humans the edge they seem to have?
This week I learned the largest living organism on the planet is a Pando…no, not Panda. Pando, Latin for “I spread,” is an expansive grove of quaking aspens. Aspens multiply asexually through their roots and colonize large areas through a shared root system. Because they all share the same genetic makeup, they’re often referred to as clones. A 106-acre grove of 47,000 trees in Richfield, Utah, all originated from one single male parent aspen (Nace, 2018). The strength of the aspen comes from its community root, giving it incredible longevity. The Bristlecone Pines in Utah is the oldest known aspen “clone” and is over 80,000 years old (Ettema, 2014).
Redwoods are another great example of the strength provided by a community. These giant trees have very shallow roots, only about six feet deep. Those shallow roots spread widely, however, and intertwine with the roots of others of its species giving the trees almost supernatural stability (The Redwood Forest and the Role of Water, n.d.). These giants standing over 300 feet tall endure raging winds and other severe conditions.
Back to our deserted island scenario . . . what if instead of dropping off a single human, we unload a community of humans? Now odds makers would definitely recalculate the probability of survival. Humans survive as community…humans THRIVE as community.
In these times we admire the independent hero who ventures out on her own. We view individualism as a strength and tout our ability to “MAKE IT” without any help. But we can’t make it without help. We need one another. We are like the aspens and the redwoods. When humans acknowledge a common root and accept the need to intertwine in such a way to hold each other in violent storms, they don’t just endure, they flourish, succeed, evolve – they RISE. Humans can only truly soar when they are rooted in community.
October saw the beauty of migration. What seemed like millions of monarchs floated overhead on their long journey to Mexico. They were like feathers on the wind, so graceful. I am always astonished at how such seemingly fragile creatures can endure so much and travel so far.
I wondered how far they actually travel and found this record: “A tagged male monarch (Danaus plexippus), released by Donald A. Davis (Canada) at Presqu’ile provincial Park near Brighton, Ontario, Canada, on 10 September 1988, was recaptured on 8 April 1989 in Austin, Texas, U.S.A., travelling an estimated 2880 miles, making this the World’s Longest Butterfly Migration according to the Guinness World Records Ltd (Davis, 2005)
But usually a single monarch doesn’t make the entire trip. Monarch butterflies may take as many as five generations to make it from Mexico to southern Canada and back again (Main, 2013). Each generation is made up of four distinct life cycles – that’s 20 separate states of being.
Which came first the monarch or the egg? (The Science of monarchs)
So, this is where it gets spiritual for me. Somehow the knowledge of the journey gets passed not from one monarch to another but through an evolution of existences. There is a ONENESS…from the butterfly to the egg to the caterpillar to the chrysalis to the butterfly. Five monarchs, five times in an egg, five caterpillars, and five times in chrysalis: the journey just continues. Is it really five different monarchs making the trip or the spirit of one monarch just trying on new outfits along the way?
And then I think about the swarms of monarchs making the trip…this knowledge…this “TRUTH” is within each of them. I don’t know how they share it or how they hear it, but they all just KNOW. Could the swarm of butterflies really be part of a greater being…all butterflies are truly one?
In the Elm Tree across the Creek from my House
What is this monarch navigation system? How quiet the mind of a monarch must be to hear this mystical guide!
Sunning in the field
I was on the phone for an hour Saturday with somebody I dearly love. It’s funny because I NEVER talk on the phone…nonetheless for an hour. We talked about how we both suffer from relentless voices in our heads…there is never quiet…never space. The voices drive us and push us in directions we think we SHOULD go. We hear the directions society, our parents, our bosses, our lovers believe we should go. They chatter, like multiple GPS guidance systems talking at once, constantly recalculating new routes.
I believe that like the monarchs, we don’t need a GPS. I think we are all born with monarch navigation systems that gently whisper the directions. But the voice is gentle, never forceful. So, I must learn to quiet my mind to truly hear. I know there is a whisper for me…I can feel the loving call. I just have to be quiet enough to hear.
I constantly try to photograph the butterflies in flight…this was closest I got that day
I rolled my forehead on the cool bathroom floor. I breathed, trying to calm the violent nausea. After throwing up for three hours, I decided I could do nothing more than wait. I knew that regardless of the ending, this would not go on forever.
Sometimes you have to accept that your body is in pain, but you don’t have to identify with that pain…accept your body is aging, but not identify with the aging body. Sometimes you just have to accept imperfections, but recognize you are more.
“You are imperfect, you are wired for struggle, but you are worthy of love and belonging.” ― Brené Brown
Seems more than coincidence that earlier that day, I’d lit my sage smudge and with a feeling of perfect peace, smudged myself. I still felt a barrier, an old resentment to which I kept returning. I knew it was time to move on but something around my heart felt like a burnt-out light bulb. So I smudged myself prayerfully and went to the kitchen to fix those delicious $2.49 mussels I’d found on sale along with a light gluten free pasta pesto dish. I watched a short segment on Gaia TV enjoying my delightfully inexpensive supper. A few hours later, I asked Barry to just bring a pillow to the bathroom for me.
That was Sunday night. I’m writing this Friday night and I still don’t feel 100% right physically. BUT throughout this whole thing, I’ve felt peace. I think I vomited up a piece of resentment.
Finally letting go of those things I cannot change..
So what is my point? There is always another obstacle. There is always a problem to overcome, a friendship that is lost, a body that ages…there’s always a resentment to release or a fear to face.
Life is like a sit-com series – it opens with laughs then a conflict arises. By the end of the show, the situation is resolved and more laughter erupts. A week later you do the whole thing all over again. Sometimes you get a break during re-run season but usually there’s always another episode. And it’s ok…because all that stuff happening is kinda the whole point.
A dear friend sent me the following meme after she patiently listened to my constant yammering for the past few months. I think this beautifully sums up the Lesson of the Mussels.
The November sky was a winter sky – painted every shade of gray with the wind’s brushstrokes leaving interesting patterns. The huge white stones in the pasture looked like sheep resting in field, a scene from Ballykissangel. Three dogs pulled at their leashes, happily bouncing along the pasture trail. But I was missing so much of it because I kept glancing at my Garmin. My pace was too slow. I was frustrated as the dogs kept stopping to sniff…or to pee…or listen for rabbits…
The struggle to control the run was overwhelming…and was just a reflection of how I try to control every aspect of my life. This is what drowning might feel like. Fighting the current never helps. You have to let go and just float. I’ve never been a fan of floating – always afraid of that loss of control. But the old ways aren’t working any longer so I need to find a new way. I’m going float more and race less.
My knee is giving me problems again so my running is suffering. Instead of getting angry with my body, I’m allowing myself to run slowly or not run at all. I’m allowing myself to walk when I need to. And I’m leaving my Garmin watch at home. I’m not tracking pace or mileage. I’m just moving. I’m not posting miles on MapMyRun and I don’t know if I’ll ever enter another race.
Shifting away from all these measures, scales, watches and clocks, I have to a chance to float freely…no guides, no maps, no public input. Just me. I eat when I’m hungry. I run when I want to run. I smile when I feel like smiling…and cry when I feel like crying. Floating along in my simple river…
This is my river…my beautiful, mossy, messy river.
My theory of reality/existence is based on personal experiences..on overwhelming feelings of oneness that changed me forever. Here is my take on…well…everything:
Once upon a time there was NOTHING except Supreme Love – God – Higher Power – Divine Beloved – the Creator – whatever you want to call Him/Her/It. Since nothing else existed, this Creator had only its own “essence” to work with…and S/he exploded (BIG BANG) into fragments that became ALL THAT IS.
So every star, every planet, every piece of stardust is a piece of God. And to take it even farther…every being is a piece of God. Each cell is a piece of God…each atom.
In the Old Testament God is called I AM! God ultimately IS…ALL THAT IS.
At the end of Yoga class, we use the phrase Namaste: the divine in me sees the divine in you.
So here’s another thought that really blows my mind…99.999999% of each atom is empty space. So we are mostly empty space. We are empty space moving through empty space with a tiny fraction of matter… *note – this is not exactly accurate. See more information below if you’re interested.
What keeps us from merging into one another? Only electrostatic fields.
When I sit back under my Bodhi tree and contemplate all this, I start to see that we really are all connected. There is only a vagueness that separates me from you. Remember in psychology classes when we were taught that babies cannot distinguish between themselves and their environments…well, maybe babies are right.
What if there is such a thing as reincarnation but with a twist? We are EACH and EVERY being – we are the killer and the one being killed, we are the mother and we are the child, we are the lover, the beloved, and the hater…we are the Democrat and the Republican, the Christian, the Jew, the Muslim, the Pagan…we are the calf that is slaughtered and butchered and we are the one consuming the flesh…
Our karma means living all sides of all actions. Our hell is created by us for us. BUT we are also our own heavens…Each act of love actually affects every other being. When we feed a starving kitten, we nourish All Beings.
Cut and paste from Wiki: *The space between atoms may not have much matter (other than a few electrons) but it is still affected by fields – wiki check quantum field theory – which fill the space and impact upon anything that enters the space! So, the 99.9999999% is not really empty in the ‘nothingness’ sense of ‘empty‘!
What if we decide to call that other stuff…that 99.999999%….LOVE ENERGY? Isn’t that a cool idea!
This changes so much for me…just by concentrating on LIGHT and LOVE, I can change the world. I no longer have to fight…I can just love. That sure takes the pressure off.
So we are all ALL…and we can each change the world because all that “empty” space is something…it’s the love, the energy, we each manifest and move through…we swim in, inhale and exhale…we are God floating in Love creating more Love.
If you leave a human, a dog, and a chimpanzee on a deserted island, who stands the best chance of survival? Odds are the human will have the most difficult time surviving. So many other species are much more capable of enduring harsh conditions on their own. And yet humans have managed to thrive on this planet. What gives humans the edge they seem to have?
The struggle to control the run was overwhelming…and was just a reflection of how I try to control every aspect of my life. This is what drowning might feel like. Fighting the current never helps. You have to let go and just float. I’ve never been a fan of floating – always afraid of that loss of control. But the old ways aren’t working any longer so I need to find a new way. I’m going float more and race less.
AngyBoneHead 