Lost & Found II

TRANSITING TRANSITIONS

Uprooting takes time, effort, care. Disengaging needs to be gentle. Moving is an exercise in many emotional cues & they come around like the black horse on a gilded & glittering carousel.

At times, I melt into an excitement of fear. My heart rattles & I find my tongue pressing the roof of my mouth so hard I know there are indentations along its edges. When I teach Qiqong, I often tell students “Let your tongue fall away from the roof of your mouth.” Voila! Instant relaxation since tucking tongue behind the front teeth brings body into Fire Position. Unsealing that common hold is a great way to bring the whole thing down a notch.

Things I’m nervous about: traveling with a cat in this wild heat & heading across Texas first, the largest state I’ve ever been in. I found a big-dog carrier today & another smaller one to transfer her into lodging. Then of course I wonder if it’s the rightest fit for the car. It’s not so much buyer’s remorse as buyer’s concern: Will these work?

The Move Sale comes up in a week. Borrowing tables, advertising, asking friends for help with various chores, distributing “stuff.” Wanting others to have the tools & tacks I’ve collected here, carrying as little with me as I can, I look around wondering  how I’ve not drowned in it all. I wonder what it is in me that I can turn & take off without taking it along. I know exactly where each item came from, but holding onto much slips away. Traveling Light has many meanings.

I drive into a troubled world where I must remain untroubled to continue sanity. My concerns must be transubstantiated from the water of “stay” to the wine of “go,” from hang-back to look-ahead. To keep that vision clear I avert my eyes to all asking for one more look of love. Others now can do that. A Course In Miracles says what is unreal does not last. Obviously I am still looking for my reality.

Did I inherit some wanderlust gene? Mom moved often, too, once she moved out of her marriage. She started businesses once a divorce left her just outside of a parochial 50’s society. She made her way with efficiency if not joyous love, but really, how am I to know that? Daddy stayed in one spot & died there young in a severity of anguish. Mom went on to fight for every possession, to sweat & curse, to love & deny her children in turn as none turned into her…and yet I have to large degree. I wonder if she looks down from heaven & clucks her tongue at my antics, or simply smiles.

Do I trust Fate too much? Do I have a choice? I have an understanding that for me the way of the open road is best. (I hit some odd key combination & Word opens a screen on the right of this document defining the word “Reality.” Just where’d that come from? Another sign for my imaginary road? This computer fortune cookie says: “The world or the state of things as they actually exist, as opposed to an idealistic or notional idea.” But in the end isn’t all of life a notional idea? It seems so tangible, so genuine, so real, yet life turns inside out in the space of a heartbeat – or lack thereof. I worry that my cat won’t be immune to what affects me but she has thrown her lot into my circus rings. We watch together for the black horse to come around again. In the absence of another reality, she “goeth whither I go.”

I move into frames of reality as though flipping cards in a deck. Life is a game of 52 Pickup. I deal & am dealt another winning hand. There’s little mystery: I do it all for love.

Amity or On Opening My Heart

Amity or On Opening My Heart

The Heart seeks amity in all. Heart understands Discord, comprehends Pretense. In the end, however, Heart desires amity in the practice of Doing No Harm.

When Heart energy is attacked by an event, by physical/emotional shock or trauma, the chi in the body sinks. News hits: We sink to our knees. It is harder to raise energy to prior levels. Some damage occurs which time may or not resolve (re-solve.)

Heart workarounds function long-term but no longer last through lifetimes. As our collective vibration rises, as Source makes Itself known to us, we rise to meet It, hopeful & eager.

We reveal & suffer Revelation in return.

When I observe my conversation, I find too many flawed clichés. Since the “lot of mankind” seems to be bipartisan struggle, the effort must be conscious to climb above this into … you guessed it … Forgiveness. Ours is a ladderlike ascension to our best selves, led enthusiastically by Higher Self. There are future me’s awaiting my arrival, allowing my spiritual immaturity space to grow, always listening for that deep beautiful breath of awakening, that inspiration, to signal a closer harmony with All-That-Is. They hold the door open, or at least prop it with a rock. We, like feral cats meowing at the door for sustenance, may one day enter Paradise by virtue of a single step.

I am told to move on in my life. I hear “Walk on, Carol” when I stop to check some exciting new activity which doesn’t serve my ascension by direct approach to Home. Maybe you hear these sweet, compelling voices as well? I’m simply one who passes the message.

By now, we’ve all heard the Heart has brain cells within. It’s not far out admission to extrapolate this to each organ in turn. After all, how many times have you relied on your gut brain over time?

Overtime. We’re in Spiritual Overtime. We play out scenes causing our energy to sink, our Hearts to hurt or be hurtful to others. When do you think this will end? I contend it will be gradual as we learn to hear what Heart thinks about it all. I know my Heart has a reality where thriving is all that matters along with how to continue bursting with Life!

I learn I must speak to my Heart each day & listen for reply. Often my Heart answers more quickly than my brain processes.

I know if I let my energy dip to liver, anger emerges. I allowed one such interaction recently & have listened to Heart going over it many times since.

My only resolution (re-solution) is scrambling into my Heart as fast as I can. Therefore I keep my own doors open, with gratitude for those I’ve been able to close.

Does this make me a better person? In a word: yes. 

Coming Out of Your Shell

Hullo, sending you love. I’ve made some notes about your desire for changing up your life & feeling it may never happen…
I know so well that the longest  time is before the departure when our dreams have changed & on the inside we have moved almost too far away to come back, to ever even exist in this now, the one without the changes so much of us has already made. We are our new selves in old clothing which no longer fits & in which we canNOT get comfortable no matter how we pull, tug, pin, zip.
But it happens that we often do not listen to what is going on until the time for it to happen is past due & then the realization comes in that we should have been gone earlier, that we have waited what seems to long for change & it now will not come.
It is not just you. The whole world has been tapped on the shoulder, and shrugged it off over & over again. Things got worse. MORE tapping, this time on our head; we shake it off. (Oh, hearing things again) then the tapping comes upon our hearts & this time we think, no! not my heart, OMG I heard this before – it was on my shoulder, it was on my head, is it too faint now to hear when  it is on my heart?
There’s a reason every time an angel appears to a human the first words said are, “Fear not!” For all change is fear to the human, our safety lies in sameness. Until it doesn’t, until we realize we needed to be safe elsewhere to be happily so. Then we divorce, then we have a child, then we move to another neighborhood, start school, take a new job. the idea is to pay close attention to hearing always in our heart first. the words are always “fear not” and the rest of that is “I am with you, always.”
Through every change, in every new idea, with every gift given & received, we live again, We gain with the new, the experience, the emotion around it, the idea of it…till suddenly nothing fits & all must be relied upon as gifts to the spirit/gifts of the spirit.
We live again through this movement TOWARD which is always movement AWAY at the same time. It is how the balance is maintained. We are never given one that we are given so many more & the choices are profuse. I seek always the place where I can hear my heart beat, for it is here my truth resides. The truest tapping of all – that which becomes a drumbeat the heart, head & feet cannot resist until we march on into the newest of dawns.
It is your spirit calling you out of your life, telling you to re-new your life, dust off the wings, shake off the shoes, we place ourselves where the powers of love can find us, take us up into heaven, escort our walking on water, comb out our wings, move us, move us, move us.
So consider these days the winding of the clocks which will spring you forward into exactly where & when you being asked to SHOW UP as your best self. Allow these moments to pass in grace & love & know you are moving even tho all is still. Listen to that heart of yours beating, feel the tapping on your soul, be ready. For it shall change in the twinkling of an eye & the now will be a faint echo of “then” soon enough.

Unfoldment – A Unity Talk

‘A time will come when your innermost voice will speak to you, saying ‘This is my path, here I shall find peace, I will pursue this path, come what may’ If you will persist and are patient, and above all never lose faith, your path will lead you unerringly to your goal’

~ White Eagle

My Mom worked nights a lot when I was growing up. My brother and I would make prank phone calls when she was out of the house during some of those evenings. I don’t feel that old, but this was the era after party lines and before caller ID when one could get away with such things. Anyone here remember those days when telephones all rolled thru Ma Bell, looked like a prop in THE MATRIX movies, only came in black & sat on that little telephone table in the corner of the living room where nothing else but a pole lamp would fit? They had short wires, so you had to sit like you were at your desk in Catholic school, dial the number and wait for an answer. And somebody was always home at night, yea?

So me n Joey would open the phone book for a local number. We’d point to a name and one of us would dial – yes, DIAL – a number, listening for that answering voice. We’d already be giggling and shushing each other – this needed quiet to pull off rightly.

“Hello?” would come the nice voice from thru the receiver. In his best and deepest voice, Joey would ask quite seriously, “Is your refrigerator running?” When the puzzled reply came back, “Well, yes, as a matter of fact it is…” he’d deliver the punch line: “Don’t you think you oughtta go catch it?” (Now this was the time when TV was still live, comics never said a bad word, and Ed Sullivan ruled) So I can only apologize for the vast humor we found in such stupid tricks… The next night we might call the same number to ask: “Does your nose run? Do your feet smell?” Sometimes we’d get a squawked “who IS this?” but most of the time we’d get a straight reply. If the poor innocent answered yes, we hollered out together: “You were built upside down!” before snorting with laughter and banging the phone receiver down.

Aren’t you glad the world has changed so much? Aren’t you glad I have changed so much? Or have I? My jokes have gotten so much better, but that’s because I take notes on others’ now.ar

For all our technology, it is still not that hard to take someone’s day apart. It’s just harder to do it anonymously. At the center where we live our truest life as spiritual beings, we are very tender creatures. We need to handle each other with care. We need to handle ourselves with care. But often as we unfold, we rip off the beautiful petals we grow to litter the battlefields where we fight.

All the words spoken on this platform here at our little Unity are about love, no matter what the topic for a Sunday may be. As Unitics, we just don’t muck around in judgment and defamation. Our God is more internalized, less “out-there’ish” Our God doesn’t have to anoint us with oils, for we are ourselves the beautiful essential oils perfuming heaven itself. Our good deeds, our helpful natures, our firm reaction of love in the face of fear all feed the loop that runs from our inner Godself to those of our relationships. Animals, gardens, foods, heaven & earth & especially our bright loving souls form the firmament of a heaven we dream of so seriously. Our conception & hopefully, our perception, of God are not the exclusive of master/subject in either direction. Rather it is the co-creative, procreative, energetic presence of God which infuses our lives with laughter, goodwill, thanksgiving, health & togetherness. If we say, all for one, we mean God at our center. If we say one for all, we mean God at our center. Every day we discover the God in our lives to be closer than we ever thought, deeper than we could ever know, more loving than all the great hero stories we’ve heard. And we love our hero stories, no?

My worst-case scenario is guilt. Hey! I come by it honestly. I was raised a Catholic and my first mother-in-law was Jewish. One day I woke up to a great way to externalize my inward mental yelling at myself. I had asked for a way to neutralize that little drone-voiced, green-shaded accountant in there going, “Uh huh, now you’ve done it!” Whatever “it” was.

I figured out that just about all the people who had yelled at me in my life pointed a finger at me first. So when I yelled at myself, I pointed at myself. Well, this was much like the old jokes I used to pull. It was too funny not to laugh aloud at. So I pretty much overcame yelling at myself for stuff. One of my husbands used to get SO MAD at me because I never apologized. I had read in some book early on that I AM are the God-words, so to say “I am sorry” was giving up in a peculiarly wrenching way. He got over it after the divorce.

Recently a modern-day philosopher I follow, Neil Kramer, said, “We live in a hit and run society.” I found that particularly descriptive. But after years of observing this development, I have also brought about a change in myself and how I play the blame game. I call it “unfoldment.”

Think about it: Your life is all about unfolding. If you watch an infant sleeping, they unfold with every breath. Children unfold almost explosively – they can go from zero to sixty in five seconds. They unfold in the light of a loving parent’s eyes. We grow in the light of a loving Creator who looks deeply, expressively, into our eyes each time we see a relative, a friend, a four-leg, or even a leaf opening on our favorite plant or tree. I watch trees all the time. Delaware is the greenest state I’ve ever been in with lots of open space where green grows. Daily, I drive past fields which are unfolding in a panoply of colors. Daily, I marvel at the face they show me that day. Our magnificent ocean is always unfolding, isn’t it? We call this unfolding “waves.” Each time you go to the beach, there is that moment of kinetic growth – the wave crests – when all unfolds into surrender on the beach. So we, too, rise on currents of lovingkindness to bathe another in our sheer-light beauty – one human unfolding to another.

We keep ourselves from spiritual stagnation – another phrase of Kramer’s – when we do that which is ours to do. Like the lotus growing in a water meadow, the petals of our sacred consciousness unfold. Hindu how-to books will tell you the crown chakra, the spirit connection to higher states of consciousness in the universe consists of a lotus with ten thousand petals. Ten thousand! Do you think that might require some unfolding?

The acorn is assuredly not an oak tree, but it will be when it finishes unfolding. Our DNA unfolds us as surely as our Yoga teacher tries to. Whether we wish to unfold or not, whether we want to or not…the saving grace is to bring humor into it because a laugh will save us faster than anything else.

Unfolding is seen as a guerrilla tactic by the ego which wants everything to stay just the same so it can tell you you’re boring, unbeautiful and ten thousand other untrue things. At this age, ego & I arm-wrestle every day. That’s how I got this crooked elbow, y’see? It’s been hard! But I won every time I got a giggle going and since I’m the easiest person to laugh at I know, it’s been a little less taxing for me along the way, I think.  Ego is so perfect, it wants to run in place. While only showing the good profile side. We get exercised, but we don’t get any new scenery in the viewfinder. Allowing ego to call the shots is like putting an Evinrude in the bathtub. The agitation gives some cheap thrills, but you really don’t get anywhere. Ego serves a purpose, but “serves” is the keyword in that sentence. Ego is the servant of your spirit. If we can keep our ego out of the driver’s seat, we hold the space for our heart to steer the way.

How will you encourage your heart and soul to unfold? What can you do to make it so? What will make you feel bigger, better, faster, more? We all have a personal candle lit inside of us. There’s an old saying that a candle loses nothing when it lights another. Don’t wait for a stroke of lightning to enlighten you. Pick up your journey-staff and walk out to the road to meet the world.

Try it. DO it. Allow yourself to simply unfold into Who You Really Are. It’s just beautiful!

 

 

Transitions (11)

TRANSITIONS

Lay down expectations like boards

Build you a bridge to inspiration

Hammer these down with nails of patience

Paint them in colors of inevitability and change.

Stand in doorways where the transition

Of forward & back will balance your brain.

Find my hand in the total darkness of eclipse

Pull me into that pregnant moment of emerging light

Frail is it may be

Enlivening all that ever was.

IN WINTER

I find a west window of sunlight

Sit down, facing my back to it

As my neck warms and my hands,

I write poems

A tiny flag of incense curls

In the light

Music knits an afghan of sound

For a simply singular afternoon.

All I “should” be doing goes undone

In favor of these words flowing from this pen.

RIDING THE RAILS

May get me places,

But all journeys

Are made of expectations

Foregoing familiarity.

When only the scenery changes

Is change enough?

My life seems a layby off the tracks.

(Twinned steel cutting the horizon, glistening.)


UNEXPECTED PRESENTS

The habit of gifting

Is one to cultivate

I have been on the balance beam

Of gifting & receiving

While meditating on insufficiency’s

Pyramidal center…

I have pierced these veils

Of unknown power sources

Skirting the edges of vortex

Many other times.

RSVP

I have invited crucifixion

By my own emotions

And intransigence of purpose.

If all these beginnings

Lead to similar endings

Why even ask the questions?

I am the hapless beggar

In the Promised Land,

The starveling at the World Feast.

I have wandered the Lost & Found of life long enough…

Even when no Path appears,

I shoulder my pack,

I move on.

SECOND STORY

I am in Soul Rehab

Stripping walls of flocked paper strips

Snapping bowed valances to sweep velvet shreds

Of conscience

I tear at curling floorboards

A stale, sour smell of old wood

Rising from the sawdust cloud

I have no idea how to rebuild this!

I have only the belief I can.

The house groans, settles,

Creaks; obligingly dismantling itself

As windowsills tilt & slide

Down separating walls

I pull nails bare-fingered.

Standing, I push support beams

With strengthened shoulders,

Digging in my heels.

For all this determination,

There is no center to demolish.

Only a guess at what will bring

This structure down;

Only a hope it will not take me along.

CALENDAR YEARS

In all this time of walking forever forward

Of wearing out shoes in differing directions

The compass whispers me to north & west

South & east

I do not heed these siren songs

I am a turtle with a rock upon its back

Thrusting forward my head, neck & finny legs.

Swimming stillness.

MORPHOGENESIS

Off to a rough start:

The bloodletting of loneliness

Collapsing my fluid body

To knots & gnarls

Tanned to roughened leather

A wrinkling purpose

Overlaid a pristine map.

“But,” I argue with the mirror,

“did I ever know? It was given to me:

‘Travel, stop, begin again’ over & over.”

These I did: a trio of begettings.

Would you have me make a list of my sins?

There are few enough to recall to my forgetting mind

I do remember toting buckets of them to

The confessional incinerator

Where sparks burst & flew

Into heaven.

FACING MORTALITY

Dying is one of the best things I will do.

I don’t know how I know this…

Perhaps informed by intimate experience?

I am content to blossom as a rose,

Exploded of scent, explored for color

Curled & peeling petals taking

Flight for faraway –

Plucked to die, dreaming,

On a kitchen table,

Beheld with love each glance.

Not knowing how it knows this…

The chance to return

As a miracle on the Tree of Life.

But I say this not being in line for

Predestination

Not really believing in death, per se

Remaining the nonbeliever, tho afloat in

A sea of total incrimination of

Evidence & experience

Responding to more of what I would not do:

I would not regret or mourn

I would be as fierce in death

As in death-defying life!

Cherished as the moment of breath

Breathed out after the intimacy

Of circling the heart

Form into formlessness

An eternity of time

To dip into life once again.

 

JUXTAPOSITIONS

Momentary fulfillment &

Long-term lack

The land that once rolled toward me

Traveling up & out-away

Impulse decentralized

Purpose diffused

Once measured in steadying mileage

I am disengaged from movement

Bereft of directional impulse

Uneasily content to be part

Of a landscape

In favor of making landfall.

AGAIN, MORTALITY

I would be bold before the Throne,

Demanding face-time with God,

A hug from Jesus,

A fig from Buddha’s Bodhi Tree

A tear from Guanyin

A knighthood with the sword of St. Germain

A high-five from Michael Archangel.

I would sleep for a thousand-thousand years

Each dream the petal of the rose

I would return in.