Prayers were sent from between open arms tonight, face lifted. I knew without any doubt, finally, that the prayers I speak into the world are always heard. As surely as the dew falls on the grass, my spoken requests are heard. I prayed for a friend today and her husband and another friend...I prayed peace.
Observation
Evening observations...slowly ending my fast...ginger garlic stock with soft boiled vegetables...I am tempted to eat in front of a movie, but I turn it off and go sit by the fire. Salty broth, soft zucchini, broccoli, rounds of carrot, crunches of ginger...I savour and eat slowly. I have been meditating this afternoon...meeting any anxiety or grief with deep, deep breaths into the tight spaces...opening heart up wide...and breathing out into the wide world.
This alone-ness must be met without defense or distraction. We come into the world alone and leave the same way. I venture out, alone, into the twilight. I am pulled by the threat of storm-coming. The air is thick with rain and grey and dark and the air exquisitely fresh on my face. I begin to think of what I do not have and then remember to possess in my thoughts all that I DO have...the love that surrounds me, the friendships, the warm home and firelight, food, purpose, safety, laughter, health.
And so there I am on dark road...bare feet on cold hard asphalt...cedar wood smoke...the unified sound of rain on trees in the background, like a solid sheet of percussion and the nearer drip and slop of it falling on close leaves. The wind is rising and I feel the warmth of my sweater coat. I catch myself with arms crossed against the chill and I open arms and let it all in. I let the world in.
I say to the sky, "Father, how I want to never be jealous, or mean or offended. How exquisite to never feel the need to own or possess or take or get, but to be content with what I have and who I know and all the joy of adventures behind and before me." (or something like that. It WAS about 20 minutes ago now)
So here I am, smiling, about to have a cup of tea in dark house with firelight reflecting off walls. Cat and dog in front of the fire and rain stuttering above me. Today is a gift almost unwrapped now and tomorrow is a gift yet to be opened.
This alone-ness must be met without defense or distraction. We come into the world alone and leave the same way. I venture out, alone, into the twilight. I am pulled by the threat of storm-coming. The air is thick with rain and grey and dark and the air exquisitely fresh on my face. I begin to think of what I do not have and then remember to possess in my thoughts all that I DO have...the love that surrounds me, the friendships, the warm home and firelight, food, purpose, safety, laughter, health.
And so there I am on dark road...bare feet on cold hard asphalt...cedar wood smoke...the unified sound of rain on trees in the background, like a solid sheet of percussion and the nearer drip and slop of it falling on close leaves. The wind is rising and I feel the warmth of my sweater coat. I catch myself with arms crossed against the chill and I open arms and let it all in. I let the world in.
I say to the sky, "Father, how I want to never be jealous, or mean or offended. How exquisite to never feel the need to own or possess or take or get, but to be content with what I have and who I know and all the joy of adventures behind and before me." (or something like that. It WAS about 20 minutes ago now)
So here I am, smiling, about to have a cup of tea in dark house with firelight reflecting off walls. Cat and dog in front of the fire and rain stuttering above me. Today is a gift almost unwrapped now and tomorrow is a gift yet to be opened.
Just Rambling
Fasting. A word that strikes fear in my heart...OK...maybe not fear, but thoughts of deprivation for sure. I have been contemplating a fast lately. I have mined the depths of my grief and the remnants appear to be floating on the surface of my soul like so much slag on the surface of precious metal. I would like to detox my soul. Stephen Buhner has written a book about the spiritual, physical and emotional benefits of fasting. I am not sure of my capability to accomplish this, but I have 10 days before I leave for Mexico and I will explore it. I want to stay close to home, sleep, tidy, sew, wander, play with my grand daughter visit my daughter and love myself.
Lots of self care is in order. When I am in Mexico by myself, I believe I will have plenty of time to really absorb the essence of "Heather". Years and years of living with others, being mother, wife, caretaker...yes, even as an herbalist being "on" for others and being seen as a healer, means I don't always think about self care. I have every intention of loving myself exquisitely for the next 7 or so weeks.
My relationship to food and other substances as a means to comfort will be explored. My fear of "not enough", my addictive tendencies, my need to be filling my senses with other then the tastes, sounds and sights of the natural world around me.
This morning I sit and sip my tea and listen to Gospel music, already filling my ears with "other". Silence is difficult for me. It means I have to listen to my own thoughts. Distraction from what? I am curious. I am almost tempted to go to Mexico completely without any technology, but I want to be in touch with my kids, so I will take my ipad with me...I do like to make rules for myself so I will just leave all these thoughts of "what I should and shouldn't do" alone and do whatever the heck I feel like doing...no rules!
But today...right now...when I get off the computer...I will gather firewood from the shed, start warm fires in my Herbe Shoppe and this space I sleep in. I will listen to music and make sense of the Herbe Shoppe...put away tinctures, press, dry, alphabetize. Someone is coming to put my herb garden to bed. Someone else is also coming to clear away more garbage. I will sew a pair of soft cotton pants to take with me. That's all. I will close my computer and not touch it again until tonight. Good day ahead!
Lots of self care is in order. When I am in Mexico by myself, I believe I will have plenty of time to really absorb the essence of "Heather". Years and years of living with others, being mother, wife, caretaker...yes, even as an herbalist being "on" for others and being seen as a healer, means I don't always think about self care. I have every intention of loving myself exquisitely for the next 7 or so weeks.
My relationship to food and other substances as a means to comfort will be explored. My fear of "not enough", my addictive tendencies, my need to be filling my senses with other then the tastes, sounds and sights of the natural world around me.
This morning I sit and sip my tea and listen to Gospel music, already filling my ears with "other". Silence is difficult for me. It means I have to listen to my own thoughts. Distraction from what? I am curious. I am almost tempted to go to Mexico completely without any technology, but I want to be in touch with my kids, so I will take my ipad with me...I do like to make rules for myself so I will just leave all these thoughts of "what I should and shouldn't do" alone and do whatever the heck I feel like doing...no rules!
But today...right now...when I get off the computer...I will gather firewood from the shed, start warm fires in my Herbe Shoppe and this space I sleep in. I will listen to music and make sense of the Herbe Shoppe...put away tinctures, press, dry, alphabetize. Someone is coming to put my herb garden to bed. Someone else is also coming to clear away more garbage. I will sew a pair of soft cotton pants to take with me. That's all. I will close my computer and not touch it again until tonight. Good day ahead!
Wind Power
There is a song from my childhood which I remember...
'There's a sweet fragrance in the air
And it comes from the wind and the gentle breeze
I know not when or where it blows
But its path leadeth her through the flowers and trees.
So blow on me, O wind of God
Breathe new life into my spirit
Restore my soul that I might live
Breathe now and let my soul receive it.
There is a catch phrase which many people are using. I am hearing it a lot lately. "Don't give your power away." "Don't let anyone take your power." "You are powerful." I don't know about all of this. Does anyone remember the Masters of the Universe? It was a cartoon in the 80s. MASTERS OF THE UNIVERSE!!! POWER!!! etc etc I looked up the word, "power". All it really means is to have the capability to accomplish or do something. That kind of diminishes our use of the word a bit, doesn't it? So, although I have been a bit resistant to the word, I guess I can use it. It seems that the real meaning of the word, and the world's perception of the word are two totally different things. Maybe its our preoccupation with superheroes...the need to protect ourselves from the manipulations of others...the desire to control our own lives and destinies.
In any case, I was resisting our society's use of the word, because I found the expectation that I "keep my own power", not give it away, be powerful...etc...is one that is quite ego-filled. It is exhausting to try to figure out whether I am or am not holding onto said power, and when am I giving it away anyway, and CAN you even give your power away...I mean, what does that REALLY mean?
I took myself off for a walk this morning on Berry Point Rd. It is breathtakingly beautiful there along the water. We call it The Magic Mile. I am struck by the continuity of nature. That sandstone shore line, the old arbutus, twisted and beautiful, the waves endlessly crashing against the beach...Where is THEIR power? Can they give it away? Can they take it to themselves? Can they disperse it?
I think of Christ. He was powerful in the true sense of the word, "able to accomplish", but refused the power his peers desired, that he free them from the occupying nations. There WAS a power He said he would send on us, but it was not a power like the world wants, but a power to be humble, full of love and releasing others from our expectations.
I am intrigued, always, by the way women and men throughout history who have made great changes toward justice, goodness and love, whether divine or human, live their lives diametrically opposed to the norm of society.. They do not appear to live powerful lives, and yet the simplicity of their actions holds great power, leaving lasting changes. Those men who are powerful in war only end up destroying things in the end. Now I'm rambling...
And so today...maybe JUST today...because I'm learning and changing and growing...I don't want to be powerful, and I don't want to be "right" and I don't want to be mad, and I don't want to be hurt. I just want to enjoy my day and get along with everyone. I was watching my curtains today, blowing in the autumn breeze...I watched the way they danced to the the flow of wind that twisted and lifted and rearranged them by the second. It was a beautiful thing to watch...peaceful, free...a dance of delight. I want to be like that...moved through by the wind of the Holy Spirit...dancing me happy...dancing me free. Let that wind be the power that moves me, not my own ego, my own victim status, my own fears...no, just the power of the wind...carrying with it a sweet fragrance.
October 22, 2014
'There's a sweet fragrance in the air
And it comes from the wind and the gentle breeze
I know not when or where it blows
But its path leadeth her through the flowers and trees.
So blow on me, O wind of God
Breathe new life into my spirit
Restore my soul that I might live
Breathe now and let my soul receive it.
There is a catch phrase which many people are using. I am hearing it a lot lately. "Don't give your power away." "Don't let anyone take your power." "You are powerful." I don't know about all of this. Does anyone remember the Masters of the Universe? It was a cartoon in the 80s. MASTERS OF THE UNIVERSE!!! POWER!!! etc etc I looked up the word, "power". All it really means is to have the capability to accomplish or do something. That kind of diminishes our use of the word a bit, doesn't it? So, although I have been a bit resistant to the word, I guess I can use it. It seems that the real meaning of the word, and the world's perception of the word are two totally different things. Maybe its our preoccupation with superheroes...the need to protect ourselves from the manipulations of others...the desire to control our own lives and destinies.
In any case, I was resisting our society's use of the word, because I found the expectation that I "keep my own power", not give it away, be powerful...etc...is one that is quite ego-filled. It is exhausting to try to figure out whether I am or am not holding onto said power, and when am I giving it away anyway, and CAN you even give your power away...I mean, what does that REALLY mean?
I took myself off for a walk this morning on Berry Point Rd. It is breathtakingly beautiful there along the water. We call it The Magic Mile. I am struck by the continuity of nature. That sandstone shore line, the old arbutus, twisted and beautiful, the waves endlessly crashing against the beach...Where is THEIR power? Can they give it away? Can they take it to themselves? Can they disperse it?
I think of Christ. He was powerful in the true sense of the word, "able to accomplish", but refused the power his peers desired, that he free them from the occupying nations. There WAS a power He said he would send on us, but it was not a power like the world wants, but a power to be humble, full of love and releasing others from our expectations.
I am intrigued, always, by the way women and men throughout history who have made great changes toward justice, goodness and love, whether divine or human, live their lives diametrically opposed to the norm of society.. They do not appear to live powerful lives, and yet the simplicity of their actions holds great power, leaving lasting changes. Those men who are powerful in war only end up destroying things in the end. Now I'm rambling...
And so today...maybe JUST today...because I'm learning and changing and growing...I don't want to be powerful, and I don't want to be "right" and I don't want to be mad, and I don't want to be hurt. I just want to enjoy my day and get along with everyone. I was watching my curtains today, blowing in the autumn breeze...I watched the way they danced to the the flow of wind that twisted and lifted and rearranged them by the second. It was a beautiful thing to watch...peaceful, free...a dance of delight. I want to be like that...moved through by the wind of the Holy Spirit...dancing me happy...dancing me free. Let that wind be the power that moves me, not my own ego, my own victim status, my own fears...no, just the power of the wind...carrying with it a sweet fragrance.
October 22, 2014
Rainy Day
It is a rainy day
I take off sandals
They are redundant
And plash in fresh rain puddles
Black asphalt warmed
Jeans rolled up
Messy hair tangling
No-makeup-face
Raised to the drizzle
Fresh
Clouds are beautiful
When delivering rain
Heather Macleod
I take off sandals
They are redundant
And plash in fresh rain puddles
Black asphalt warmed
Jeans rolled up
Messy hair tangling
No-makeup-face
Raised to the drizzle
Fresh
Clouds are beautiful
When delivering rain
Heather Macleod
An Etymology of Hatred
Due to my explosion of hatred and cursing yesterday, followed by guilt, of course...I have been exploring the etymology of a number of words. I have been attentive to my feelings around these forbidden emotions and I have been discovering some interesting things.
First of all a lesson in word meanings..the word .hatred comes from the words "pain" and "anger", The word "curse" simply means "to detest or abhor". Interestingly, YHWH appeared to do it quite liberally in the Old Testament. There is some thought that to curse means to wish harm on a person or object, which may be plausible, as when Christ cursed the fig tree...according to the story...it withered and died. But mostly A) a curse means to detest or abhor...synonym to B) "hate", which comes from the words C) "pain" and "anger"... a curse, or hatred, literally, does not appear to be an evil thing then...simply an expression of pain and anger. Why then did Christ tell us to bless those who "hurt" us? Bless and not curse? It gets back to love, I suppose. And Love is the glue that holds the universe together. If I exist in the vibration of pain and anger I will only draw it to myself. Blessing others brings blessings to me...cursing and hating will bring the same back if it becomes a habitual way of living.
But hatred is really nothing other then allowing myself to feel pain and anger...it is a healthy release...a way to expunge the demons that gain toeholds in my psyche from the hurt I allow through wrong choices and naive decisions. Every decision I make, every turn in the road, leaves me wiser, stronger...and probably a bit harder. I would love to stay soft, but I am learning it is not a possibility in this world...If I am soft I WILL be taken advantage of. Perhaps I will come full circle again and regain a softness...that remains to be seen.
There are so very, very many things I need to learn, I can see that. Losing my naivety continues to be a perilous road for me...but I will tread it with caution and watch for monsters in the way. I have always invited God into my experiences and today I invited him into this place of hatred, because I cannot do anything about it...I am allowing it to flow out of me and honoring the pain and anger...I am allowing myself to do this for the very first time in my life.
There was an interesting "side effect" in all of this. As I studied these words and realized I wasn't a terrible person, a kindness for myself and a truly genuine self-love came over me and I took some cigars I had and threw them in the fire. Then it was a bag of cheezies I bought because I wanted something to eat while watching a movie to distract myself...into the fire...and the box of crap cereal...into the fire. There was no wincing...it was easy. I fast forwarded through the film (I'm nixing Netflix again) and spent some time studying and writing and my heart is happy now. I spoke to myself kindly, "Love yourself, Heather"...and I am.
October 20, 2014
First of all a lesson in word meanings..the word .hatred comes from the words "pain" and "anger", The word "curse" simply means "to detest or abhor". Interestingly, YHWH appeared to do it quite liberally in the Old Testament. There is some thought that to curse means to wish harm on a person or object, which may be plausible, as when Christ cursed the fig tree...according to the story...it withered and died. But mostly A) a curse means to detest or abhor...synonym to B) "hate", which comes from the words C) "pain" and "anger"... a curse, or hatred, literally, does not appear to be an evil thing then...simply an expression of pain and anger. Why then did Christ tell us to bless those who "hurt" us? Bless and not curse? It gets back to love, I suppose. And Love is the glue that holds the universe together. If I exist in the vibration of pain and anger I will only draw it to myself. Blessing others brings blessings to me...cursing and hating will bring the same back if it becomes a habitual way of living.
But hatred is really nothing other then allowing myself to feel pain and anger...it is a healthy release...a way to expunge the demons that gain toeholds in my psyche from the hurt I allow through wrong choices and naive decisions. Every decision I make, every turn in the road, leaves me wiser, stronger...and probably a bit harder. I would love to stay soft, but I am learning it is not a possibility in this world...If I am soft I WILL be taken advantage of. Perhaps I will come full circle again and regain a softness...that remains to be seen.
There are so very, very many things I need to learn, I can see that. Losing my naivety continues to be a perilous road for me...but I will tread it with caution and watch for monsters in the way. I have always invited God into my experiences and today I invited him into this place of hatred, because I cannot do anything about it...I am allowing it to flow out of me and honoring the pain and anger...I am allowing myself to do this for the very first time in my life.
There was an interesting "side effect" in all of this. As I studied these words and realized I wasn't a terrible person, a kindness for myself and a truly genuine self-love came over me and I took some cigars I had and threw them in the fire. Then it was a bag of cheezies I bought because I wanted something to eat while watching a movie to distract myself...into the fire...and the box of crap cereal...into the fire. There was no wincing...it was easy. I fast forwarded through the film (I'm nixing Netflix again) and spent some time studying and writing and my heart is happy now. I spoke to myself kindly, "Love yourself, Heather"...and I am.
October 20, 2014
Separate and Connected
I was laying in bed thinking about the way each one of us exists as "alone". I often get pictures in my mind when I am processing thought. This time the pictures for "alone" were like square scraps of fabric, overlapping one another slightly...worn, frayed, faded...
I don't have any idea why this was the picture in my mind. I'm learning to not try to make sense of my feelings, or the pictures that come to me. I simply accept them at face value. Later, when I read back over my thoughts, I often find it makes sense to me.
In his book Anam Cara, John O'Donohue refers to each one of us as being very alone. He says each human exists solitary in their own physical container, their body. This holds our whole lives, thoughts, experiences, identity...But our soul extends beyond this body and it is this which connects with other people...the emotions we generate...and so although we are very alone we are also very connected.
In death, sorrow and difficulty we feel most alone. Perhaps it is because we are so consumed by grief that we can no longer see our connection to others, though it is still there. Or maybe it is because these times are "deep in the soil" times...dark, birthing times. We exist alone in the womb, in darkness (and safety) before we are born into the light. Thomas Moore wrote, "When you sense that your dark night is one of pregnancy and oceanic return, you could react accordingly and be still. Watch and wonder. Take the human embryo as your model. Assume the fetal position, emotionally and intellectually. Be silent. Float in your darkness as if it were the waters of the womb, and give up trying to fight your way out or make sense of it.” The plant is alone in its seed casing in dark soil before bursting upward. The caterpillar must dissolve completely, alone in its cocoon, before arriving, vibrant-winged, upon a waiting world.
The light of rebirth shows us our connection to the greater world. The sun shines on every cell, every connecting molecule; we smile, we hug, we shake hands, we converse, we connect. But unless we learn to know ourselves, alone, in the darkness, we cannot truly know ourselves connected in the light. We, or at least I, am too ready to dissolve into "other", rather then hold my own space of distinction. I have heard a saying, "Always remember in the darkness what you learned in the light." I think it is wiser to state it in the opposite, "Always remember in the light what you learned in the darkness." It is in darkness that true life is formed, where swirling thoughts cogitate and create. Life's cells multiply, are imprinted with the codes of its destiny. Is is in the darkness that every feature is pre-ordained.
To the extent I yield myself to these painful processes and accept them with calm assurance, will also be the extent I will move forward, more profoundly able to emerge magnificent into the light of a Spring morning. And just as every day is New Years Day, so can any morning be that Spring morning when the ground finally yields to the pushing of new growth, or the chrysalis is fully transfigured and ready to crack its way out into the full light of day.
October 20, 2014
I don't have any idea why this was the picture in my mind. I'm learning to not try to make sense of my feelings, or the pictures that come to me. I simply accept them at face value. Later, when I read back over my thoughts, I often find it makes sense to me.
In his book Anam Cara, John O'Donohue refers to each one of us as being very alone. He says each human exists solitary in their own physical container, their body. This holds our whole lives, thoughts, experiences, identity...But our soul extends beyond this body and it is this which connects with other people...the emotions we generate...and so although we are very alone we are also very connected.
In death, sorrow and difficulty we feel most alone. Perhaps it is because we are so consumed by grief that we can no longer see our connection to others, though it is still there. Or maybe it is because these times are "deep in the soil" times...dark, birthing times. We exist alone in the womb, in darkness (and safety) before we are born into the light. Thomas Moore wrote, "When you sense that your dark night is one of pregnancy and oceanic return, you could react accordingly and be still. Watch and wonder. Take the human embryo as your model. Assume the fetal position, emotionally and intellectually. Be silent. Float in your darkness as if it were the waters of the womb, and give up trying to fight your way out or make sense of it.” The plant is alone in its seed casing in dark soil before bursting upward. The caterpillar must dissolve completely, alone in its cocoon, before arriving, vibrant-winged, upon a waiting world.
The light of rebirth shows us our connection to the greater world. The sun shines on every cell, every connecting molecule; we smile, we hug, we shake hands, we converse, we connect. But unless we learn to know ourselves, alone, in the darkness, we cannot truly know ourselves connected in the light. We, or at least I, am too ready to dissolve into "other", rather then hold my own space of distinction. I have heard a saying, "Always remember in the darkness what you learned in the light." I think it is wiser to state it in the opposite, "Always remember in the light what you learned in the darkness." It is in darkness that true life is formed, where swirling thoughts cogitate and create. Life's cells multiply, are imprinted with the codes of its destiny. Is is in the darkness that every feature is pre-ordained.
To the extent I yield myself to these painful processes and accept them with calm assurance, will also be the extent I will move forward, more profoundly able to emerge magnificent into the light of a Spring morning. And just as every day is New Years Day, so can any morning be that Spring morning when the ground finally yields to the pushing of new growth, or the chrysalis is fully transfigured and ready to crack its way out into the full light of day.
October 20, 2014
A Gemstone, Ravens and a Warning
There is a slow rage that has been building in my body today...breasted, vaginal, female body...all curves and softness and yielding vulnerability. I watch lips form sweet compliments and backhanded advice; and later I listen to even more men...advice...some good, some bad...and I watch myself. "What do I know?' I say. I reconsider decisions I have made...I question myself...I soften...
This morning I placed a carnelian on a short piece of leather, and wore it round my neck...right over the hollow. It was the right colour to match my outfit. I didn't think anything of it I got home from my day...a Sunday spent with various men, talking primarily about music.. .I coaxed Molly out the door and we went for a walk...and the rage arrived full blast. If someone had been watching me they might have wondered, but I was alone with the trees and the road...and Molly. I spit my anger out from between curled lips. I spoke to myself. I spoke to the world at large. I spoke to those I was angry with and finally I hurled curses to the wind and voiced my hatred of one person in particular.
At that very moment three ravens burst out of the trees far ahead and came careening over head, kraaaawing their joyous agreement. I threw back my head, lifted arms, wide spread, and smiled. I FELT truly evil in that moment...not something Heather would ever like to admit...and then ... "I know." I said, through tears..."Bless, and curse not"...
I am aware of the power of words, never more so then these past years...I am aware of their strength and I am aware of my own power in using them to affect my life. I also know that hatred will never get me anywhere, but I allow it to flow out of me and dissipate rather then insist I keep it inside and try to dissolve it.
I have had various encounters with birds lately...This one with the ravens may be thought to be a coincidence, but it is the third experience with birds at crucial moments in just the last month...all specific birds for the situations I am in. I wandered into the forest and sat on the moss for awhile...waiting for the anger to pass, holding my hands open to accept the grace of creation and let the rage pass. When I got home I realized I was still restless.
I am learning, however, and my thoughts turned suddenly to the stone resting on my throat...where my voice comes from...carnelian. I looked up its uses..."It is a stone of action which is very useful in all decision making processes as it helps to stay focused and motivated. It is a stone of confidence, creativity, individuality, and self-realization. Carnelian helps dispel apathy and indolence. It helps discover hidden talents and awakens curiosity in the people who wear it. Carnelian is believed to have the capability to protect the wearer from negative energies."
Well, I don't know about all that...one person's opinion...but I got to thinking...My rage and those ravens (known as tricksters and messengers) were a warning to me to watch out...here I was, once again questioning decisions I had made...listening to the smooth-tongued, or simply others then myself...and I believe all of the above was simply a reminder to me...God using creation to tell me something important...to get my attention. Heather! Listen to your heart. Don't listen to other people...people who don't really care at all about you...people who would love to get something from you. Heather! Be careful!
I took the stone off and the irritation eased.
Ah...I am thorny today...spiked like a thistle. It should have come sooner, I think. But I am grateful for my anger...did the carnelian help me voice it and release it? Did the ravens confirm my realization with their raucous witness to my curses? I don't know. Think what you will. I am making absolutely no decisions until I know what I am ready to do. I will wait until there is peace and a certainty of intuition. Better late then never...
October 19, 2104
This morning I placed a carnelian on a short piece of leather, and wore it round my neck...right over the hollow. It was the right colour to match my outfit. I didn't think anything of it I got home from my day...a Sunday spent with various men, talking primarily about music.. .I coaxed Molly out the door and we went for a walk...and the rage arrived full blast. If someone had been watching me they might have wondered, but I was alone with the trees and the road...and Molly. I spit my anger out from between curled lips. I spoke to myself. I spoke to the world at large. I spoke to those I was angry with and finally I hurled curses to the wind and voiced my hatred of one person in particular.
At that very moment three ravens burst out of the trees far ahead and came careening over head, kraaaawing their joyous agreement. I threw back my head, lifted arms, wide spread, and smiled. I FELT truly evil in that moment...not something Heather would ever like to admit...and then ... "I know." I said, through tears..."Bless, and curse not"...
I am aware of the power of words, never more so then these past years...I am aware of their strength and I am aware of my own power in using them to affect my life. I also know that hatred will never get me anywhere, but I allow it to flow out of me and dissipate rather then insist I keep it inside and try to dissolve it.
I have had various encounters with birds lately...This one with the ravens may be thought to be a coincidence, but it is the third experience with birds at crucial moments in just the last month...all specific birds for the situations I am in. I wandered into the forest and sat on the moss for awhile...waiting for the anger to pass, holding my hands open to accept the grace of creation and let the rage pass. When I got home I realized I was still restless.
I am learning, however, and my thoughts turned suddenly to the stone resting on my throat...where my voice comes from...carnelian. I looked up its uses..."It is a stone of action which is very useful in all decision making processes as it helps to stay focused and motivated. It is a stone of confidence, creativity, individuality, and self-realization. Carnelian helps dispel apathy and indolence. It helps discover hidden talents and awakens curiosity in the people who wear it. Carnelian is believed to have the capability to protect the wearer from negative energies."
Well, I don't know about all that...one person's opinion...but I got to thinking...My rage and those ravens (known as tricksters and messengers) were a warning to me to watch out...here I was, once again questioning decisions I had made...listening to the smooth-tongued, or simply others then myself...and I believe all of the above was simply a reminder to me...God using creation to tell me something important...to get my attention. Heather! Listen to your heart. Don't listen to other people...people who don't really care at all about you...people who would love to get something from you. Heather! Be careful!
I took the stone off and the irritation eased.
Ah...I am thorny today...spiked like a thistle. It should have come sooner, I think. But I am grateful for my anger...did the carnelian help me voice it and release it? Did the ravens confirm my realization with their raucous witness to my curses? I don't know. Think what you will. I am making absolutely no decisions until I know what I am ready to do. I will wait until there is peace and a certainty of intuition. Better late then never...
October 19, 2104
Today (and other thoughts)
It has been a beautiful day at home for me...pretty much all alone except for a music practice with a new musician friend. Quiet morning coffee and feeding cats...scratching Molly's belly and slowly clearing up the mess around my house and making sense of chaos. I've been throwing out more and purging my home...it has been a 4 year process of "concentrate and eliminate" and slowly, slowly I am finding room for my own self...finding room to breathe.
I have heard it said you should only keep around yourself those things which are useful or beautiful...and I continue to inspect my life, my home, my mind and rid myself of the useless and the ugly.
This past week I have had a sore back/neck. I'm nervous about an upcoming music gig and about going to Mexico by myself, so I am a bit tense. It reminded me, however, that I rarely have a sore back and neck anymore, and it used to be such a chronic condition in my life! I mean it went WAY back. The fact that I rarely suffer from it anymore is a huge testament to the amount of stress and worry I have released from my life over the past years.
And so here I am, alone, finally. Yes, I have had some visits with the alone. When I was living on Salt Spring I was alone and that was very brave of me at the time and a grand foray into independence. What most people don't understand when they meet me is that I've been a mom and wife since I was 18. These adventures of mine which may seem so tame to a braver soul are huge steps of independence for me.
I am struck by my chasing after happiness...If only I could just have time for myself. If only I could be a herbalist. If only I could take that particular herbal class. if only I had a place to keep all my herbs. If only I had enough students in my class...and every single one comes to pass and I am no longer wondering. It is the obvious thing we finally learn. It is the moment that is the answer, not the goal. It is the reaching that brings the joy, not the arriving. It is the interaction with others and the community, the laughter and the fighting and the sorting out that is so damn beautiful!
I thought to myself that perhaps I would like to live completely alone, on my own five acres, one tiny cabin with no one close. Oh, to be close to nature with no other sounds! But I know this would not make me happy. I am happy when I hear my grand daughter across the back alley in the morning. I am happy when my big barn doors creak open with unexpected visitors. I am happy when the phone rings and when I run into someone I know and stop for a chat. But I am also happy when I am snuggled up in my big four poster all alone with the dance of the wood stove flames across the bare walls. I am happy when I wander down the back roads, mind wandering along with my feet. I am happy when I am sitting alone by the water. Happiness is not a goal to be reached. Happiness for me is simply the privilege of being alive, being here, getting to share this life with so many beautiful people, complete with bumps, warts and everything in between.
I read an article this morning which talks about daring to live an authentic life...Mark Nemo, the author, writes
They say that spirits make music
by moving through the breaks
in what is living.
If so, the work of love
is to hold each other and listen.
"Hold each other and listen". I sent the article to a dear, dear friend whose husband is slowly slipping away from her with Alzheimer disease. I was there with her last night, staying up for awhile and keeping watch so she could catch a few hours of sleep. i watched her interact with her husband of 50 plus years, the gentleness in her voice, the way she kissed him, the knowing between them. Those were beautiful little moments they gave me. I'm pretty sure her marriage wasn't any more perfect then the next persons. Life is raw...nothing is perfect...but the holding and listening...well...that's what it's about, isn't it?
I am encouraging myself to be more aware of listening to others. It is not easy for me. I always have so much to say about my own personal journey. But every time I listen I hear something beautiful...even if it is disguised. If I am patient and I listen with ears of non-judgment and kindness, I hear things that are worth more then all the money I could place my hands on. Our lives, shared, are beyond exquisite. Our lives are worthy of attention. Our lives are golden and shimmering with wealth. Each tiny piece of the puzzle that is life is absolutely, without question, priceless!
October 15
I have heard it said you should only keep around yourself those things which are useful or beautiful...and I continue to inspect my life, my home, my mind and rid myself of the useless and the ugly.
This past week I have had a sore back/neck. I'm nervous about an upcoming music gig and about going to Mexico by myself, so I am a bit tense. It reminded me, however, that I rarely have a sore back and neck anymore, and it used to be such a chronic condition in my life! I mean it went WAY back. The fact that I rarely suffer from it anymore is a huge testament to the amount of stress and worry I have released from my life over the past years.
And so here I am, alone, finally. Yes, I have had some visits with the alone. When I was living on Salt Spring I was alone and that was very brave of me at the time and a grand foray into independence. What most people don't understand when they meet me is that I've been a mom and wife since I was 18. These adventures of mine which may seem so tame to a braver soul are huge steps of independence for me.
I am struck by my chasing after happiness...If only I could just have time for myself. If only I could be a herbalist. If only I could take that particular herbal class. if only I had a place to keep all my herbs. If only I had enough students in my class...and every single one comes to pass and I am no longer wondering. It is the obvious thing we finally learn. It is the moment that is the answer, not the goal. It is the reaching that brings the joy, not the arriving. It is the interaction with others and the community, the laughter and the fighting and the sorting out that is so damn beautiful!
I thought to myself that perhaps I would like to live completely alone, on my own five acres, one tiny cabin with no one close. Oh, to be close to nature with no other sounds! But I know this would not make me happy. I am happy when I hear my grand daughter across the back alley in the morning. I am happy when my big barn doors creak open with unexpected visitors. I am happy when the phone rings and when I run into someone I know and stop for a chat. But I am also happy when I am snuggled up in my big four poster all alone with the dance of the wood stove flames across the bare walls. I am happy when I wander down the back roads, mind wandering along with my feet. I am happy when I am sitting alone by the water. Happiness is not a goal to be reached. Happiness for me is simply the privilege of being alive, being here, getting to share this life with so many beautiful people, complete with bumps, warts and everything in between.
I read an article this morning which talks about daring to live an authentic life...Mark Nemo, the author, writes
They say that spirits make music
by moving through the breaks
in what is living.
If so, the work of love
is to hold each other and listen.
"Hold each other and listen". I sent the article to a dear, dear friend whose husband is slowly slipping away from her with Alzheimer disease. I was there with her last night, staying up for awhile and keeping watch so she could catch a few hours of sleep. i watched her interact with her husband of 50 plus years, the gentleness in her voice, the way she kissed him, the knowing between them. Those were beautiful little moments they gave me. I'm pretty sure her marriage wasn't any more perfect then the next persons. Life is raw...nothing is perfect...but the holding and listening...well...that's what it's about, isn't it?
I am encouraging myself to be more aware of listening to others. It is not easy for me. I always have so much to say about my own personal journey. But every time I listen I hear something beautiful...even if it is disguised. If I am patient and I listen with ears of non-judgment and kindness, I hear things that are worth more then all the money I could place my hands on. Our lives, shared, are beyond exquisite. Our lives are worthy of attention. Our lives are golden and shimmering with wealth. Each tiny piece of the puzzle that is life is absolutely, without question, priceless!
October 15
Too Much Beauty! Too Much Beauty!
I went to have Thanksgiving with my kids in Vancouver this weekend. Close to my daughter's house is the dike, which you can wander along right next to the sea marsh...it is loaded with birds and trees and different herbs. You can see the Gulf Islands on a clear day and there is always some sort of vessel sailing by down the Strait. Depending on the day, the scenery can be quite amazing.
Saturday evening I went for a walk. Whenever I don't take my camera I regret it...this evening in particular. The clouds were piled to the west like some sort of volcano and the sun was setting right behind the peak like flames from the mouth of it. Over to the north the jet planes were lifting off from the international airport, shiny bodies catching the setting sun and flashing against a backdrop of ominous black clouds and mountains, as they cracked and roared their way up into the sky. The birds were wheeling over the marsh their wings also catching the last of the sunlight and the wind was fresh off the water.
Just as I was turning away to begin my walk back home I heard a deep throb and coming up on my right was an enormous container freighter plowing through the water not 100 yards off the breakwater island in front of where I stood. The captain's bridge was 6 stories high and the wake roiled and swept up to the island as the freighter thundered past and then it was gone...sliding off into silence.
There are days when the enormity of all the beauty is just too much for me to take in. It enters me, and rips away at my insides, trying to make more room. It cuts me open and pours back out and I am left gasping and crying and saying, Stop! If I had blinders on days like this I would wear them, because eyes can only contain so much and a body is only so big and all this beauty can turn on you and leave you helpless.
These are the days when i am so very, very aware of the love of my Father...these days when grace-gifts are flung at me with glorious abandon. I am full to overflowing and beyond help. I am drowning in love and weeping from the ridiculousness of it all and thanksgiving rises up in me and all I can say is thank you, thank you, thank you!
Saturday evening I went for a walk. Whenever I don't take my camera I regret it...this evening in particular. The clouds were piled to the west like some sort of volcano and the sun was setting right behind the peak like flames from the mouth of it. Over to the north the jet planes were lifting off from the international airport, shiny bodies catching the setting sun and flashing against a backdrop of ominous black clouds and mountains, as they cracked and roared their way up into the sky. The birds were wheeling over the marsh their wings also catching the last of the sunlight and the wind was fresh off the water.
Just as I was turning away to begin my walk back home I heard a deep throb and coming up on my right was an enormous container freighter plowing through the water not 100 yards off the breakwater island in front of where I stood. The captain's bridge was 6 stories high and the wake roiled and swept up to the island as the freighter thundered past and then it was gone...sliding off into silence.
There are days when the enormity of all the beauty is just too much for me to take in. It enters me, and rips away at my insides, trying to make more room. It cuts me open and pours back out and I am left gasping and crying and saying, Stop! If I had blinders on days like this I would wear them, because eyes can only contain so much and a body is only so big and all this beauty can turn on you and leave you helpless.
These are the days when i am so very, very aware of the love of my Father...these days when grace-gifts are flung at me with glorious abandon. I am full to overflowing and beyond help. I am drowning in love and weeping from the ridiculousness of it all and thanksgiving rises up in me and all I can say is thank you, thank you, thank you!
It All Comes Down to 39.95
November 6, 1998. It had been 2 1/2 years since my husband died and 3 months since my best friend had died and I was marrying her husband. Not everyone was happy about it, but we were. We were two drowning souls...drowning in the sorrow of losing a partner, and we had been friends already for 8 years and so we thought it would work. It did off and on, but mostly it didn't, although the friend part was always, ALWAYS there. But tell me. How do you share tears and laughter, sexual intimacy and fights and frustrations and joys and adventures and projects and raising kids together and then...well...it just all boils down to a divorce kit...picked up at Staples...Aisle 5, Ma'am...at the far back, right side...39.95. Good God! No wonder we're all so afraid. How does something as sacred as the union between two human beings get turned into an "Aisle 5" experience?
This year we would have been married for 16 years. Don't misunderstand. I'm glad we're apart now. I'm learning how to figure out who Heather actually is and I'm discovering I'm quite delightful! But it's been hard, really hard, these past 3 years, going through the drag of the separation. The hurt and trying, the frustration, the tears, the forgiveness, the expectations, the dropping expectations, the new beginnings, the leaving...again and again and again...until it was really, truly all washed out, wrung out and hanging high from the clothes line...done!
I look at this tacky divorce kit...all neat and tidy in its shrink wrap. I don't want to open it. Not because I don't want to be divorced, but because it's just so "ICK". I remember the long walks holding hands, and the way he made me laugh and the snuggles in bed and some of our crazy adventures. I also remember the misunderstandings and hurts and incompatibility. But all of that was the real, raw, gritty stuff of life...this, THIS is plastic wrap and a gold seal and..well...read it! "100% legal and easy!"
So...life comes down to this at the end of it all. 39.95. I think if I ever get married again it will not seem so sacred. I will know it can end with a Staple's Do-It-Yourself Kit, and I will know that all we do and all we have is so very, very transient...and kind of cheap...geez...
This year we would have been married for 16 years. Don't misunderstand. I'm glad we're apart now. I'm learning how to figure out who Heather actually is and I'm discovering I'm quite delightful! But it's been hard, really hard, these past 3 years, going through the drag of the separation. The hurt and trying, the frustration, the tears, the forgiveness, the expectations, the dropping expectations, the new beginnings, the leaving...again and again and again...until it was really, truly all washed out, wrung out and hanging high from the clothes line...done!
I look at this tacky divorce kit...all neat and tidy in its shrink wrap. I don't want to open it. Not because I don't want to be divorced, but because it's just so "ICK". I remember the long walks holding hands, and the way he made me laugh and the snuggles in bed and some of our crazy adventures. I also remember the misunderstandings and hurts and incompatibility. But all of that was the real, raw, gritty stuff of life...this, THIS is plastic wrap and a gold seal and..well...read it! "100% legal and easy!"
So...life comes down to this at the end of it all. 39.95. I think if I ever get married again it will not seem so sacred. I will know it can end with a Staple's Do-It-Yourself Kit, and I will know that all we do and all we have is so very, very transient...and kind of cheap...geez...
Memory in the Body
I had a wonderful day today...positive in so many ways. Coming home from Nanaimo, however, an interesting thing occurred. It happens often, but I am becoming more aware of it. Ever since my husband first left about 3 !/2 years ago, I experience an anxiety around dinner time...even when I was living on Salt Spring there would be a sadness which would accompany my heading home from work at end of day. Sometimes when I round the corner to head down our street...if it's dinner time...you know, end of day 4- 6ish...strong anxiety and sadness. i knew it was because I was used to going home TO him...and that was why it happened in the evening, but I don't miss him anymore...I've moved on. Today I had a fun day with my girlfriend shopping for groceries and hanging out and we caught the 5 o clock ferry and the anxiety started.
This got me thinking about the way our bodies hold memory. I believe the earth holds memories and that places where violence has been done holds violence, and warmth and love also hold those memories. My body appears to be holding memories and reliving them at a certain time of the day. Fascinating. As I observe my body more I see how it responds to certain triggers. Body language is fascinating; the way I look at someone when I'm feeling powerful and when I'm not; the way I stand around certain people; the way my hands shake or my stomach hurts in certain situations. All these responses are set off by situations that trigger memories that cause me to feel certain sensations and emotions in my body.
Can I rise above these old memories that appear to control my emotions? I believe I can if I continue to be aware of the feelings in my body. this is something my counselor talked to me about. As I was relating situations in the month when I felt powerful, she asked me to stop for about 20 seconds or so and just feel what that felt like physically to me. It was interesting. Where the sadness felt hot and burning and numb and tight, the power felt clear behind my eyes and bright and cool inside my forehead. My hands and feet didn't feel like they were burning...rather I felt more power emanating from my hands. My heart, interestingly enough, still felt an ache, which I thought was sadness, but upon observing I realized it was probably empathy or compassion, and it existed without the sticky drip down into my stomach which I would feel when depressed. I know, I know...it's all very weird...but this learning to express what I'm FEELING physically is an incredibly helpful exercise.
What I learned is that compassion seems to exist in my heart whether I am sad or powerful. It is not, then, a negative thing. The cool, clear feeling of power is a delightful feeling to be aware of and I can command its presence. The sad, also, because it contains compassion, is not necessarily a "bad" emotion and I can allow it to come and go like a squall across the ocean without being afraid of it, resisting it, or trying to make it disappear.
Oct 7
This got me thinking about the way our bodies hold memory. I believe the earth holds memories and that places where violence has been done holds violence, and warmth and love also hold those memories. My body appears to be holding memories and reliving them at a certain time of the day. Fascinating. As I observe my body more I see how it responds to certain triggers. Body language is fascinating; the way I look at someone when I'm feeling powerful and when I'm not; the way I stand around certain people; the way my hands shake or my stomach hurts in certain situations. All these responses are set off by situations that trigger memories that cause me to feel certain sensations and emotions in my body.
Can I rise above these old memories that appear to control my emotions? I believe I can if I continue to be aware of the feelings in my body. this is something my counselor talked to me about. As I was relating situations in the month when I felt powerful, she asked me to stop for about 20 seconds or so and just feel what that felt like physically to me. It was interesting. Where the sadness felt hot and burning and numb and tight, the power felt clear behind my eyes and bright and cool inside my forehead. My hands and feet didn't feel like they were burning...rather I felt more power emanating from my hands. My heart, interestingly enough, still felt an ache, which I thought was sadness, but upon observing I realized it was probably empathy or compassion, and it existed without the sticky drip down into my stomach which I would feel when depressed. I know, I know...it's all very weird...but this learning to express what I'm FEELING physically is an incredibly helpful exercise.
What I learned is that compassion seems to exist in my heart whether I am sad or powerful. It is not, then, a negative thing. The cool, clear feeling of power is a delightful feeling to be aware of and I can command its presence. The sad, also, because it contains compassion, is not necessarily a "bad" emotion and I can allow it to come and go like a squall across the ocean without being afraid of it, resisting it, or trying to make it disappear.
Oct 7
Depression Update
Today I went to see my counselor. It has been a month since I first went to see her and about 6 weeks since the initial diagnosis of depression. I spent a happy hour chatting with her about all the changes I've made and the strategies I'm using around power and boundaries...as I was relating all that had happened over the past month the thought came to me..."Damn, girl! You're doing amazing! I'm not sure you're even technically depressed anymore." The counselor agreed. A couple of weeks ago, when I was undergoing some stress around some illness a friend was experiencing, there were some old symptoms, but that was understandable. I gave myself space to feel the panic and the grief and then moved on. I still feel sadness. I still burst into tears now and then, but I am not plumbing the depths of a deep dark well anymore...these are shallow...wide perhaps, but shallow...and I let the storm of tears come, feel what is going on in my body, am kind to myself and before I know it I've moved on...very healthy!
I do need to keep taking my herbs...I notice I spiral when I don't, and probably I will have to continue to take them for about a year until my body chemistry has evened back out again. Adrenal burn out from stress can do a huge number on chemical imbalance in the brain and body.
So I'm happy to report that my outlook is shiny at the moment. Yay!
I do need to keep taking my herbs...I notice I spiral when I don't, and probably I will have to continue to take them for about a year until my body chemistry has evened back out again. Adrenal burn out from stress can do a huge number on chemical imbalance in the brain and body.
So I'm happy to report that my outlook is shiny at the moment. Yay!
Come, Come
I love this! This is what life is to me...never despair, no matter who you are! We can always return to the Fountain of Life...always return and drink!
"Come, come, whoever you are.
Wonderer, worshipper, lover of leaving.
It doesn't matter.
Ours is not a caravan of despair.
Come, even if you have broken your vow
a thousand times
Come, yet again, come, come.”
—Jalāl ad-Dīn Muḥammad Balkh, or Rumi (September 30, 1207 – December 17, 1273), was a 13th-century Persian Muslim poet, jurist, theologian, and Sufi mystic.
"Come, come, whoever you are.
Wonderer, worshipper, lover of leaving.
It doesn't matter.
Ours is not a caravan of despair.
Come, even if you have broken your vow
a thousand times
Come, yet again, come, come.”
—Jalāl ad-Dīn Muḥammad Balkh, or Rumi (September 30, 1207 – December 17, 1273), was a 13th-century Persian Muslim poet, jurist, theologian, and Sufi mystic.
Learning to Listen
I am discovering this past month the world that is opening to me as I trust my intuition more and more...it is not just the hearing and obeying the voice that speaks, the not questioning anymore, the trusting...it is more then that. I am beginning to understand that some of these griefs I have that are beyond my comprehension... are not actually my own. At times I have felt a panic rise within myself beyond explaining, beyond logic...or I have felt a grief so deep I wonder how it could come out of nowhere to visit me...today I felt pains in a part of my body that made no sense at all to me...and slowly I am beginning to understand that I am feeling someone else's pain. This is not my own...it is a message to me that some one else is suffering.
It is a strange thing to me, this carrying another 's pain or grief. Now that I begin to understand, I can cast it off and give it to God, and pray...pray for whoever it may be who is suffering. It has taken me a long time to begin to understand this about myself. Yes, I have sadness. I let myself feel it now, let myself cry and I don't fight it, but it is different then what I am talking about. I am glad to begin to discern the difference between the two and I hope that I will also begin to know who it is that is suffering, so I can help...or maybe it is just the prayer that is needed, the sending it out into the air, because ultimately we are all connected.
I don't really understand this...maybe I'm just a bit crazy...or maybe I'm not...I am starting to dream things as well...or see things...they are quite vivid...I think I need to write them down so I remember. And words come to me, and I DO write them down...words of direction and instruction...I'm new to this...
Time will tell.
Oct 3, 2014
It is a strange thing to me, this carrying another 's pain or grief. Now that I begin to understand, I can cast it off and give it to God, and pray...pray for whoever it may be who is suffering. It has taken me a long time to begin to understand this about myself. Yes, I have sadness. I let myself feel it now, let myself cry and I don't fight it, but it is different then what I am talking about. I am glad to begin to discern the difference between the two and I hope that I will also begin to know who it is that is suffering, so I can help...or maybe it is just the prayer that is needed, the sending it out into the air, because ultimately we are all connected.
I don't really understand this...maybe I'm just a bit crazy...or maybe I'm not...I am starting to dream things as well...or see things...they are quite vivid...I think I need to write them down so I remember. And words come to me, and I DO write them down...words of direction and instruction...I'm new to this...
Time will tell.
Oct 3, 2014
Drumbeg in the Afternoon
I walked in Drumbeg today
feet bare to feel the bruise of the stones
the crunch and sink of the fine pebbled beach
and the shock-cold of the sea.
I walked in Drumbeg
because I feel closer to home there
You know what I mean...
the veil is thin
I squatted by the path among the pointing trees
hands on the ground
feeling energy rise up
and I rocked gently
not of my own accord
it was the energy that rocked me
and I prayed for pure heart
and good intention
and the ability to feel the world around me
with clarity
I was gifted
six tiny feathers
a fat, black cricket waddling through the tall grass
soft moss underfoot
and wide silent spaces
for my mind to rest
and let my body feel
the textures and the limbs and the breath
of Drumbeg.
October 3, 2014
feet bare to feel the bruise of the stones
the crunch and sink of the fine pebbled beach
and the shock-cold of the sea.
I walked in Drumbeg
because I feel closer to home there
You know what I mean...
the veil is thin
I squatted by the path among the pointing trees
hands on the ground
feeling energy rise up
and I rocked gently
not of my own accord
it was the energy that rocked me
and I prayed for pure heart
and good intention
and the ability to feel the world around me
with clarity
I was gifted
six tiny feathers
a fat, black cricket waddling through the tall grass
soft moss underfoot
and wide silent spaces
for my mind to rest
and let my body feel
the textures and the limbs and the breath
of Drumbeg.
October 3, 2014
Left Behind
When we hear the words "left behind" we primarily think of the place we inhabit when others leave us. We are "left behind". But I am thinking of something different. I am thinking about all the things that are left behind when another person moves on.
Growing up in a missionary setting was an assurance that I would always be leaving things behind. You simply couldn't take all your accumulated possessions in a small suitcase to wherever the next place was you were heading. And then if your parents left, or your friends moved on, you might keep the smallest of momentos; a picture, a letter, a necklace...small things became precious. I believe all I have from my father who died when I was 14, are pictures.
When I came back to live in Canada, it was easier to own things, but I had a difficulty with keeping anything extraneous around. If I wasn't using it, it was given away, much to the distress of my mother in law... Me: "A crystal bowl? What am I going to do with a crystal bowl." MIT: "Put it on a shelf." Me: "Why?"
Obviously there has been an accumulation of things as I raised my children and learned how to fit in culturally in my country of citizenship, but now my kids are grown and living elsewhere I find I am drawn back to that place of fewer possessions, but not many people truly understand that space in my head.
I was chatting with my daughter the other day and she mentioned that she needs more pictures on her walls...I stroked the bare walls and told her how much I love bare walls and empty space.
So...back to my first train of thought...things that are left behind when people leave...
When my mom died we kept her comforter her car and her bible, as well as her set of china. I think I still have her bible. I may even have three of her bibles, a couple more of my deceased husband's bibles, my kids' bibles when they left home, their photo albums and things I saved from school and other odds and ends and assortments of things. I finally threw my first husband's drivers license away, eighteen years later. I swear we must have about 10 various and sundry bibles laying around plus a large contingent of bible study literature from my first husband who was studying to be a preacher...
Then there is my second husband...carpenter extraordinaire who delighted me on our first anniversary with a beautiful four poster bed with matching mirror and armoir. Touches of his work are everywhere I look...left behind. And let's not forget the beat up truck and a workshop full of tools, and a pile of uncleaned mess...
Then my latest love...stereo equipment he gifted me, chairs he didn't need, perfume...
Lately I am wanting to leave it all behind me...start fresh, clean and bare...independent, empty, without...perhaps the emptiness will make room for much better, for I am finding that as I make room in my life the gifts are not long in appearing.
Perhaps in leaving behind these mementos and reminders of other lives, I may also leave behind my dependence...
September 30, 2014
Growing up in a missionary setting was an assurance that I would always be leaving things behind. You simply couldn't take all your accumulated possessions in a small suitcase to wherever the next place was you were heading. And then if your parents left, or your friends moved on, you might keep the smallest of momentos; a picture, a letter, a necklace...small things became precious. I believe all I have from my father who died when I was 14, are pictures.
When I came back to live in Canada, it was easier to own things, but I had a difficulty with keeping anything extraneous around. If I wasn't using it, it was given away, much to the distress of my mother in law... Me: "A crystal bowl? What am I going to do with a crystal bowl." MIT: "Put it on a shelf." Me: "Why?"
Obviously there has been an accumulation of things as I raised my children and learned how to fit in culturally in my country of citizenship, but now my kids are grown and living elsewhere I find I am drawn back to that place of fewer possessions, but not many people truly understand that space in my head.
I was chatting with my daughter the other day and she mentioned that she needs more pictures on her walls...I stroked the bare walls and told her how much I love bare walls and empty space.
So...back to my first train of thought...things that are left behind when people leave...
When my mom died we kept her comforter her car and her bible, as well as her set of china. I think I still have her bible. I may even have three of her bibles, a couple more of my deceased husband's bibles, my kids' bibles when they left home, their photo albums and things I saved from school and other odds and ends and assortments of things. I finally threw my first husband's drivers license away, eighteen years later. I swear we must have about 10 various and sundry bibles laying around plus a large contingent of bible study literature from my first husband who was studying to be a preacher...
Then there is my second husband...carpenter extraordinaire who delighted me on our first anniversary with a beautiful four poster bed with matching mirror and armoir. Touches of his work are everywhere I look...left behind. And let's not forget the beat up truck and a workshop full of tools, and a pile of uncleaned mess...
Then my latest love...stereo equipment he gifted me, chairs he didn't need, perfume...
Lately I am wanting to leave it all behind me...start fresh, clean and bare...independent, empty, without...perhaps the emptiness will make room for much better, for I am finding that as I make room in my life the gifts are not long in appearing.
Perhaps in leaving behind these mementos and reminders of other lives, I may also leave behind my dependence...
September 30, 2014
Alone
So that's it...the end of the day and the end of my seaplane job for this year. The fog has descended heavy, white and wet, leaving room in one corner of the sky for a sliver of new moon. I feel dull as I leave the office...beloved little shack at the edge of the world. I don't want to go home yet, so I stop on the deck above the marina, put my glasses on and start to write, and as usual the joy filters through the sad.
The last seamen have rowed away from the dock and the last car is pulling out of the parking lot for the night and I am alone. Alone with the sound of ferry fog horns, distant birds and muffled laughter from the boat dwellers.
Alone is not something I am acquainted with much. It frightens me and intrigues me. I am curious about the year to come. It was just under a year ago that I went off FB. I wanted to experience more of life...and it was a wild, wild ride. I have faced fears and lost them. I have re-examined my religious background, sifting through it well and I have emerged with an enormous sense of grace. I have made mistakes that did not kill me, discovered that my intuition is a faithful friend and I have made new wonderful friends, scandalized others and discovered that it is possible to love without owning.
I have released others and gained new relationships. I have clarified my vision and left behind much of the extraneous...and yet...so much is still hidden from me.
I want to know so much and I am discovering that the knowing is not always possible...
I am learning patience to rest in the moment and trust that magic is close by.
Alone. I will learn this new thing. Alone.
The last seamen have rowed away from the dock and the last car is pulling out of the parking lot for the night and I am alone. Alone with the sound of ferry fog horns, distant birds and muffled laughter from the boat dwellers.
Alone is not something I am acquainted with much. It frightens me and intrigues me. I am curious about the year to come. It was just under a year ago that I went off FB. I wanted to experience more of life...and it was a wild, wild ride. I have faced fears and lost them. I have re-examined my religious background, sifting through it well and I have emerged with an enormous sense of grace. I have made mistakes that did not kill me, discovered that my intuition is a faithful friend and I have made new wonderful friends, scandalized others and discovered that it is possible to love without owning.
I have released others and gained new relationships. I have clarified my vision and left behind much of the extraneous...and yet...so much is still hidden from me.
I want to know so much and I am discovering that the knowing is not always possible...
I am learning patience to rest in the moment and trust that magic is close by.
Alone. I will learn this new thing. Alone.
Love?
I've been thinking a lot about love again lately...all the fancy ideas I have had about unconditional love and what that looks like. The weight of responsibility which I have placed on my own shoulders to somehow carry out this love...the expectations of how that looks through my actions...the idea of suffering and sacrifice in all of it. Perhaps there is sacrifice in love...perhaps, but it is the sacrifice of getting out of the way and allowing the person to be whoever they will be. I often think that those I love need to hear it from me...maybe, maybe not. I am not sure of anything really. All I know is that I am able to continue to love without resentment and still hold kindness in my heart, wishing the best for those I love, without needing to compromise my own emotional state.
What, what WHAT is love? This is such an old question, a boring question, an overworked, over asked, over pondered question...what is love? Again I go back to the comment by Christ...greater love has no wo/man than this...that she/he lay down their life for a friend....
Lay down my life...die to myself...my own desires around what love looks like...let it all go, Heather. Every expectation of what love looks like. Let it all be...children, brothers, sisters, friends, lovers...lay it all down and let it go...there is no need to prove anything. If I love, I know this love exists within me, and I have nothing to say or prove...
If I am allowed my love simply flows out of me...if I am not allowed, I love silently. Love cannot be contained by another's requirements or expectations. Love exists regardless of whether it is received or returned. it cannot be diminished or made larger by others...it is not a "thing" to be manipulated and mastered. Either I love or I don't.
What, what WHAT is love? This is such an old question, a boring question, an overworked, over asked, over pondered question...what is love? Again I go back to the comment by Christ...greater love has no wo/man than this...that she/he lay down their life for a friend....
Lay down my life...die to myself...my own desires around what love looks like...let it all go, Heather. Every expectation of what love looks like. Let it all be...children, brothers, sisters, friends, lovers...lay it all down and let it go...there is no need to prove anything. If I love, I know this love exists within me, and I have nothing to say or prove...
If I am allowed my love simply flows out of me...if I am not allowed, I love silently. Love cannot be contained by another's requirements or expectations. Love exists regardless of whether it is received or returned. it cannot be diminished or made larger by others...it is not a "thing" to be manipulated and mastered. Either I love or I don't.
Strength and Sadness, Compassion and Blessings
This past week has been one of extreme challenges...challenges I cannot share due to the privacy of a dear friend...Suffice it to say that the single most obvious breakthrough I have noticed in my life this week is that for the very first time I suddenly realize just how STRONG I am. I am 51 1/2 years old. These past 20 years I have been told I am strong and I have never believed it, but what I just went through made me realize just how very, VERY strong I am. Strong like a lion, strong like a bear STRONG!!! This doesn't mean I haven't had some sad moments or some anxious moments, but the strength is singing like a fucking choir of angels behind me and there is a deep roar starting to build in my chest.
Let me talk about the sad for a moment, for it is as much a part of me as the strong. It is in the quiet moments when I am not busy that I am still aware of the sad place. What is different about it now, however, is that it is not so big, so dark, so clawing or so painful. It is simply there..."small brown wren" I will call the sadness...piping a sweet little tune. I try to pay attention to this feeling, feel what my body is doing...hot prickling cheeks, numb lips, tight throat. If I really pay attention, I can feel the energy pouring off the ends of my finger tips and emanating from my exposed skin. I wonder how much power there is in this sadness, and if what I am feeling is simply the metamorphosis of sadness from chrysalis to full winged compassion. I wonder about the power that is in this sadness.
This afternoon and evening I am trying to catch up on Herbe Shoppe orders...for some reason they are coming in hard and fast, without any advertising. I made up a hormone balancing blend; weighed the herbs, poured in the alcohol and stirred it gently, remembering to be in a good space while I mixed it up. Only good energy in the brew, Heather, only good energy. And suddenly I started to bless the medicine. I placed my hands over the tincture and spoke blessings of strength and balance and hope and laughter for any women who may be struggling with menopause and loneliness and messed up hormones and tears...and something magical happened...I blessed and I wept and God was there...it's been awhile...and the kitchen...with my bottles and jars and mess of herbs and pots and oils and happy jumble of oh-so-many things...was filled with the presence of Grace.
Please God, let me remember this moment. Let me remember that You smile on compassion, that You love blessings and that You are drawn into my sadness like a mother to her child's hurt. Let me start from today to bless every bit of medicine I make. May I work with compassion and love and yes, even sadness.
September 26, 2014
Let me talk about the sad for a moment, for it is as much a part of me as the strong. It is in the quiet moments when I am not busy that I am still aware of the sad place. What is different about it now, however, is that it is not so big, so dark, so clawing or so painful. It is simply there..."small brown wren" I will call the sadness...piping a sweet little tune. I try to pay attention to this feeling, feel what my body is doing...hot prickling cheeks, numb lips, tight throat. If I really pay attention, I can feel the energy pouring off the ends of my finger tips and emanating from my exposed skin. I wonder how much power there is in this sadness, and if what I am feeling is simply the metamorphosis of sadness from chrysalis to full winged compassion. I wonder about the power that is in this sadness.
This afternoon and evening I am trying to catch up on Herbe Shoppe orders...for some reason they are coming in hard and fast, without any advertising. I made up a hormone balancing blend; weighed the herbs, poured in the alcohol and stirred it gently, remembering to be in a good space while I mixed it up. Only good energy in the brew, Heather, only good energy. And suddenly I started to bless the medicine. I placed my hands over the tincture and spoke blessings of strength and balance and hope and laughter for any women who may be struggling with menopause and loneliness and messed up hormones and tears...and something magical happened...I blessed and I wept and God was there...it's been awhile...and the kitchen...with my bottles and jars and mess of herbs and pots and oils and happy jumble of oh-so-many things...was filled with the presence of Grace.
Please God, let me remember this moment. Let me remember that You smile on compassion, that You love blessings and that You are drawn into my sadness like a mother to her child's hurt. Let me start from today to bless every bit of medicine I make. May I work with compassion and love and yes, even sadness.
September 26, 2014
Power of the Moment
Today I flew home from Vancouver. Float Plane Time! And WINDY! But...I have learned to let go of control...the control that brings fear...and I sit happy in my seat, only with a touch of trepidation. I begin to think about the changes in me around my fears, as we take off of the Fraser River into the wind, turn steeply and bounce back toward the Strait, high over apartment buildings and shopping malls below.
I want to talk to God, outside of myself, God, who I cannot know outside of myself and I remember the phrase I have known since I was very small, "Christ in me, the hope of glory." I know. Sounds like an archaic hymn, but to me it is much more than that. What does that actually MEAN? Christ in me? I am gazing out of the tiny window and we are over the ocean now and I remember the words of Christ, "Take no thought for tomorrow, tomorrow has enough to trouble of its own. Don't worry about what you will wear or eat or where you will live...the birds of the air and the flowers of the field never work or worry and they have enough to eat and are clothed more beautifully then the richest king." Christ in me...the Christ of this moment...the Christ of no worry...and I embrace that Christ within me and pay attention to the moment.
Everything below me and around me is grey and white. I turn to look across the gentleman sitting beside me and strain to see out his window. He gestures to me with both hands and mouths, "Only water!" I smile to myself and to him. I do not see "only water". I see white gulls far below and the foamy caplets cresting the wind driven waves. I see the mist sifting by, the cloud striations and the far, far horizons...fading into shades of grey. The horizon is hiding any solidity from me. It is hiding the future, the "edge", the "known". I acquiesce. No, there is not just water in this moment. There is the whole world below me and I am riding far above it. If I was an angel would I see with this perspective? If I was a spirit out of body, would this be my haunt? It is beautiful, so beautiful.
But soon we are out of the mist and the islands appear. I take the ear plugs from my ears and say to the man as we're landing, "You said there is only water. There is so much more than water!" And he smiles and touches me and knows what I mean. And me? I feel the power of this Christ that exists within my spirit; this Christ that not only walks on water but rides above it as well.
September 26, 2014
I want to talk to God, outside of myself, God, who I cannot know outside of myself and I remember the phrase I have known since I was very small, "Christ in me, the hope of glory." I know. Sounds like an archaic hymn, but to me it is much more than that. What does that actually MEAN? Christ in me? I am gazing out of the tiny window and we are over the ocean now and I remember the words of Christ, "Take no thought for tomorrow, tomorrow has enough to trouble of its own. Don't worry about what you will wear or eat or where you will live...the birds of the air and the flowers of the field never work or worry and they have enough to eat and are clothed more beautifully then the richest king." Christ in me...the Christ of this moment...the Christ of no worry...and I embrace that Christ within me and pay attention to the moment.
Everything below me and around me is grey and white. I turn to look across the gentleman sitting beside me and strain to see out his window. He gestures to me with both hands and mouths, "Only water!" I smile to myself and to him. I do not see "only water". I see white gulls far below and the foamy caplets cresting the wind driven waves. I see the mist sifting by, the cloud striations and the far, far horizons...fading into shades of grey. The horizon is hiding any solidity from me. It is hiding the future, the "edge", the "known". I acquiesce. No, there is not just water in this moment. There is the whole world below me and I am riding far above it. If I was an angel would I see with this perspective? If I was a spirit out of body, would this be my haunt? It is beautiful, so beautiful.
But soon we are out of the mist and the islands appear. I take the ear plugs from my ears and say to the man as we're landing, "You said there is only water. There is so much more than water!" And he smiles and touches me and knows what I mean. And me? I feel the power of this Christ that exists within my spirit; this Christ that not only walks on water but rides above it as well.
September 26, 2014
Grief and Grace
We have many challenges to face in this life and my particular challenge these days is caring for and supporting a good friend during a time of grief and pain. I was rubbing her feet and we were talking about the experience. I told her how I had noticed that grace seems to really show up best in relation to grief. Her answer, "I don't even know what grace is anymore."
(When you are raised in a Christian environment, the definition of grace is "the unearned grace of salvation we receive from God." or in more biblical words, "unmerited favour". It always seemed to carry the scent of my unworthiness, and the sulfuric whiff of the hell I was escaping. But I am learning to view this favour in a very different light.)
"It's as simple to me as the way the light is shining through those leaves outside." I said. Grace is gifts...everywhere gifts.
A lady I recently met, also going through some extreme life challenges said, "Yesterday is history, tomorrow a mystery, and today I look for gifts...the gifts I will be given and those I will give to others." Grace. Gifts.
I often talk about my ability to see beauty in almost everything or everyone...perhaps this ability is honed by the grief I have experienced in my life. Perhaps it is heightened by a special rose coloured filter we begin to wear when we have cried too many tears. I see it in the way the leaves move and the tops of the trees bend in the wind. I see grace in the mathematical order of cedar leaves against a blue sky, or that particular way the ocean bubbles around the pebbles on a beach as it surges over the rocks...the weathered deck wood, wet with fall rain, or the arrangement of randomly scattered leaves and pine cones along the side of the road.
Grace is in a smile, a hand on my shoulder, a tight hug from a girlfriend, a note from an old acquaintance. It exists in encouragement and a beautifully written poem or a sweet melody or an exquisite chord I just can't get enough of. Grace is a cup of coffee with my kids or a walk down the back roads with my son and grand daughter...when you begin to see Grace it is everywhere...soon it is impossible not to see it...it is in the impertinent sea gull, the loud crow of the rooster too early in the morning, the faithless friend and also in the middle of the very grief that brought this grace to my attention in the first place.
September 25, 2014
(When you are raised in a Christian environment, the definition of grace is "the unearned grace of salvation we receive from God." or in more biblical words, "unmerited favour". It always seemed to carry the scent of my unworthiness, and the sulfuric whiff of the hell I was escaping. But I am learning to view this favour in a very different light.)
"It's as simple to me as the way the light is shining through those leaves outside." I said. Grace is gifts...everywhere gifts.
A lady I recently met, also going through some extreme life challenges said, "Yesterday is history, tomorrow a mystery, and today I look for gifts...the gifts I will be given and those I will give to others." Grace. Gifts.
I often talk about my ability to see beauty in almost everything or everyone...perhaps this ability is honed by the grief I have experienced in my life. Perhaps it is heightened by a special rose coloured filter we begin to wear when we have cried too many tears. I see it in the way the leaves move and the tops of the trees bend in the wind. I see grace in the mathematical order of cedar leaves against a blue sky, or that particular way the ocean bubbles around the pebbles on a beach as it surges over the rocks...the weathered deck wood, wet with fall rain, or the arrangement of randomly scattered leaves and pine cones along the side of the road.
Grace is in a smile, a hand on my shoulder, a tight hug from a girlfriend, a note from an old acquaintance. It exists in encouragement and a beautifully written poem or a sweet melody or an exquisite chord I just can't get enough of. Grace is a cup of coffee with my kids or a walk down the back roads with my son and grand daughter...when you begin to see Grace it is everywhere...soon it is impossible not to see it...it is in the impertinent sea gull, the loud crow of the rooster too early in the morning, the faithless friend and also in the middle of the very grief that brought this grace to my attention in the first place.
September 25, 2014
Ridiculous
"...causing or worthy of ridicule or derision; absurd; preposterous; laughable..." Ridiculous. I just read a quote attributed to Robin Williams, "“You're only given a spark of madness. You musn't lose it.”
I was reading back over my blog the last few days...more then 88 entries of my own this year alone...over 150 in the past 2 1/2 years. I read and I laugh, I cry, I remember, I wonder...and I think to myself, "some people could think you are ridiculous"...and I say to myself, "but I AM ridiculous, and it is a wonderful thing!" To lose the fear of what others may think, to not have to constantly monitor my words and actions for fear of my reputation...this, THIS, is a glorious thing! Please bear with me, I am not referring to hurtful words and actions...I'm talking about the general niceties of society, and trying to avoid the judging looks and maintain that suave sheen of respectability. Rumi said, "Sell your cleverness and buy bewilderment." I love that! I am bewildered by the wildness that is life, the suck and flow, the gain and loss the wild and calm the rich and ragged!
I cannot keep shoes on my feet lately...my hair hangs long and tangled...there is a silly grin on my face, I often spread my arms wide to embrace the world...and at times it feels like wings could possibly be erupting from my shoulder blades. I wrote the other day...
Remember this
remember this, Heather
next time you think you can't let go.
Remember, please remember
this exquisite flying free
the being shot
as if from a tautly drawn bow
so much further then you ever imagined
In the drawing back you were frightened
so frightened
but the trajectory
upon release
is a thing of wonder
and amazement
I told my beautiful daughter in law today. "Hopefully I will learn to not be so naive". She said, "You will always be naive."
Is this madness, the manic high of a depressive swing, or is it something else? I await the flow and cycle of my hormones to see if i am truly ridiculous, or just marginally ridiculous or perhaps beautifully, hopelessly most healthily ridiculous!.
September 22, 2014
I was reading back over my blog the last few days...more then 88 entries of my own this year alone...over 150 in the past 2 1/2 years. I read and I laugh, I cry, I remember, I wonder...and I think to myself, "some people could think you are ridiculous"...and I say to myself, "but I AM ridiculous, and it is a wonderful thing!" To lose the fear of what others may think, to not have to constantly monitor my words and actions for fear of my reputation...this, THIS, is a glorious thing! Please bear with me, I am not referring to hurtful words and actions...I'm talking about the general niceties of society, and trying to avoid the judging looks and maintain that suave sheen of respectability. Rumi said, "Sell your cleverness and buy bewilderment." I love that! I am bewildered by the wildness that is life, the suck and flow, the gain and loss the wild and calm the rich and ragged!
I cannot keep shoes on my feet lately...my hair hangs long and tangled...there is a silly grin on my face, I often spread my arms wide to embrace the world...and at times it feels like wings could possibly be erupting from my shoulder blades. I wrote the other day...
Remember this
remember this, Heather
next time you think you can't let go.
Remember, please remember
this exquisite flying free
the being shot
as if from a tautly drawn bow
so much further then you ever imagined
In the drawing back you were frightened
so frightened
but the trajectory
upon release
is a thing of wonder
and amazement
I told my beautiful daughter in law today. "Hopefully I will learn to not be so naive". She said, "You will always be naive."
Is this madness, the manic high of a depressive swing, or is it something else? I await the flow and cycle of my hormones to see if i am truly ridiculous, or just marginally ridiculous or perhaps beautifully, hopelessly most healthily ridiculous!.
September 22, 2014
Invocation
I call a blessing upon my heart
that it may be true to myself and kind to others
I call a blessing upon my mind
that it will be still
and full of good thoughts
and new ideas
I call a blessing upon my eyes
that they will be clear to see the good in others
and also wise enough to see the darkness
that does not have good intention toward me
I call a blessing upon my mouth
that it will speak truth without fear
and that the truth will be seasoned with warmth and good will
I call a blessing upon my ears
that they will assume good intention from all who speak
not take on what is not theirs to hear
and that they will have a filter for unkind words
I call a blessing upon my hands
that they will create beauty
and caress gently
and work willingly
I call a blessing upon my body
that it will be strong
and healthy
and loved by me
I call a blessing upon my feet
that they will touch the earth with joy
carry me with strength
and forgive me for my neglect of them
I call a blessing upon my whole self
that I would rest in the joy of who I am.
September 21, 2014
that it may be true to myself and kind to others
I call a blessing upon my mind
that it will be still
and full of good thoughts
and new ideas
I call a blessing upon my eyes
that they will be clear to see the good in others
and also wise enough to see the darkness
that does not have good intention toward me
I call a blessing upon my mouth
that it will speak truth without fear
and that the truth will be seasoned with warmth and good will
I call a blessing upon my ears
that they will assume good intention from all who speak
not take on what is not theirs to hear
and that they will have a filter for unkind words
I call a blessing upon my hands
that they will create beauty
and caress gently
and work willingly
I call a blessing upon my body
that it will be strong
and healthy
and loved by me
I call a blessing upon my feet
that they will touch the earth with joy
carry me with strength
and forgive me for my neglect of them
I call a blessing upon my whole self
that I would rest in the joy of who I am.
September 21, 2014
Wind Warning
Wind warning in effect
blowing hard across my plans ducks in a row dreams in tow behind me All blowing hopelessly now around my head Oh! How do I gather scattered dreams? that only want to whirl and dance beyond my reach Arms and fingertips stretching their full limitation Feet solid on solid But heels are lifting hurricane gathering force lifting outspread arms and I once reaching for dreams am lifted skyward and tumbled happily I an that crazy twirling dream I once reached for September 20, 2014 |
Baptism of Humiliation
When the impossible is eliminated...possibility shines! What a simple thing and yet, darned if EVERY SINGLE TIME I fight it! Five days without David and I am a new woman. Shit! I hate it when I'm wrong, but if being wrong feels this good, I think perhaps I should be wrong more often.
I have been going back over my blog and I absolutely cannot deny the wonder of these crazy past 6 months. But I also see how the insecurity surrounding this particular relationship took its toll and contributed hugely to my emerging depression while at the same time I learned so many things. Once again I am struck by the juxtaposition of the dark against the light in every single situation in life. I would love to have an experience that is light only...but I wonder if this is actually a possibility.
When I indulge my insecurities, I tend to be victim to the idea it is a person who is teaching me life's lessons when in actual fact it is simply life that is teaching me its own lessons. And quite frankly the only reason I even WANT to learn lessons is if they deliver me to a safer, happier place. So here I am, a year since my husband left, and a month and a half since David signed off, and I am happier and freer and more sure of myself and doing more things I love then I ever have before.
Good God! Baptize me regularly in humiliation if the resurrection is this sweet!
September 20, 2014
I have been going back over my blog and I absolutely cannot deny the wonder of these crazy past 6 months. But I also see how the insecurity surrounding this particular relationship took its toll and contributed hugely to my emerging depression while at the same time I learned so many things. Once again I am struck by the juxtaposition of the dark against the light in every single situation in life. I would love to have an experience that is light only...but I wonder if this is actually a possibility.
When I indulge my insecurities, I tend to be victim to the idea it is a person who is teaching me life's lessons when in actual fact it is simply life that is teaching me its own lessons. And quite frankly the only reason I even WANT to learn lessons is if they deliver me to a safer, happier place. So here I am, a year since my husband left, and a month and a half since David signed off, and I am happier and freer and more sure of myself and doing more things I love then I ever have before.
Good God! Baptize me regularly in humiliation if the resurrection is this sweet!
September 20, 2014
Morning Thoughts
Oh my! The dock is paradise this morning! There are dark clouds looming northwest, but the morning sun, cresting the dark firs is all silver-gold, lighting up the closer world like the spotlight on a darkened stage. The clouds riding the early sunbeams are molten, so silvery and bright! A fresh, fresh breeze kisses me good morning and as I turn down the last stretch of dock, utterly delighted, a long legged heron takes startled flight in front of me, raucously scolding as it spreads its wings. An ancient psalmist once said, "What is wo/man that God is mindful of them?" I feel the blessing of God on the world this morning...in the fresh breeze, the wrinkled water, the free flying birds and the bright metal sun...I feel the blessing of God on me...a calm mind and quiet heart and the knowledge of how very, very blessed I am.
September 20, 2014
September 20, 2014
Euphoria
Let me tell you about my bliss. It is a 12 hour day for me today...down here at the dock. There is a 2 hour break between flights now and I wander up to the top of the marina for a twenty minute break. I know I've told myself "No more cigars!", but the afternoon is mellow and I am tempted and I yield. But, I decide, there will be no guilt attached. Ron Smotherman, psychologist with a rare talent for succinctness writes, "Guilt is merely currency to continue the same behaviour." (loose paraphrase).
I buy my weekly cigarillo from the liquor store and wander back to the dock overlooking the bay. I have my ipad with me, the one my daughter bought me for my 50th birthday, and I pull up my itunes. Nina Simone's voice heaves out of the tiny speaker and I sit on the picnic table...barefoot and happy, wind in my hair and sun on my shoulders, listening to Nina sing the blues.
It is one of those Autumn days that visit with that rare form of sweet delight...you know...so thick with sensory abundance the day is almost velvet. Plush velvet Autumn day, not cold, not hot... perfect. The breeze tangles my hair with the curling smoke from my black cherry cigar, and rocks the boats at anchor, their lines clanking.
The dock is heaving a bit with the swell, brought on by the rising wind, and the joints in the dock are groaning...the sound is almost human, but not sad...more sensuous then anything.
Euphoria surrounds me and I am aware of perfect joy. Fuck the heartache...I am probably one of the luckiest women in the world. And I am not exaggerating.
I am aware this week that every wonderful lesson I have learned is not because of others, but because of my response to others. Not because of how "good" or "bad" they may or may not have been to me, but in spite of that. I am constantly needing to remind myself that I choose my life. It is never WHAT HAPPENS to me that matters, but only HOW I RESPOND. I am the only one who can make or break me. And today I am being made...again...created perfectly in the image of God...even with my cigar dangling from my fingers in perfect harmony with the rest of this perfect day.
September 19, 2014
I buy my weekly cigarillo from the liquor store and wander back to the dock overlooking the bay. I have my ipad with me, the one my daughter bought me for my 50th birthday, and I pull up my itunes. Nina Simone's voice heaves out of the tiny speaker and I sit on the picnic table...barefoot and happy, wind in my hair and sun on my shoulders, listening to Nina sing the blues.
It is one of those Autumn days that visit with that rare form of sweet delight...you know...so thick with sensory abundance the day is almost velvet. Plush velvet Autumn day, not cold, not hot... perfect. The breeze tangles my hair with the curling smoke from my black cherry cigar, and rocks the boats at anchor, their lines clanking.
The dock is heaving a bit with the swell, brought on by the rising wind, and the joints in the dock are groaning...the sound is almost human, but not sad...more sensuous then anything.
Euphoria surrounds me and I am aware of perfect joy. Fuck the heartache...I am probably one of the luckiest women in the world. And I am not exaggerating.
I am aware this week that every wonderful lesson I have learned is not because of others, but because of my response to others. Not because of how "good" or "bad" they may or may not have been to me, but in spite of that. I am constantly needing to remind myself that I choose my life. It is never WHAT HAPPENS to me that matters, but only HOW I RESPOND. I am the only one who can make or break me. And today I am being made...again...created perfectly in the image of God...even with my cigar dangling from my fingers in perfect harmony with the rest of this perfect day.
September 19, 2014
Connections
Waiting for the ferry on the Nanaimo side, I smiled at a heavily bearded and long haired young,man. He responded by coming over to sit by me and began a soliloquy on chem trails, air quality and the general negative side of our world...I listened for awhile then tried to change the tone of the conversation to gratitude and more positive thoughts...it was a beautiful evening and boats were coming into the harbour for the night. This young man was quick to catch my mood, I decided not to judge this highly intellectual boy and we ended up conversing the entire ferry trip about the cosmos, mushrooms, chutney, how the words we speak create the fabric of our lives and how we are all connected...from chutney to cosmos. It was a lovely thing.
I had been in Nanaimo to do a radio show for our local station, CHLY 101.7 with the radio host, Ginny, who is also a student of mine and of course a friend. After the humiliation of the previous days DD, I was feeling happy and beautiful and had started the day with a visit to my doctor to check on my progress. Big gold star! I had been keeping careful track of my days via calendar and had noticed some interesting patterns in my moods, but most of all I was aware the lump in my throat was gone and that my motivation was much higher...easier to keep my house clean...easier to set boundaries. But...the insomnia was still bad and the weeping still happening in the evenings. As I sat waiting for my doctor I read over my list of "worries" which I had written down three weeks earlier after the initial diagnosis...10 things I was worrying about...fear of loss, fear of being alone, fear of worrying my kids, lack of motivation and so on. In going over them again, I realized that more then half were no longer of any concern to me. wow! Now that's progress. I had a great connection with my doctor, she encouraged me to keep being proactive...no medication...and I was off to my next appointment...
This time I will keep the place private, but suffice it to say the person I came in contact with was very distressed, and due to my own stupidity around drinking, i was able to commiserate, empathize, give her a hug and really listen and connect, and there were smiles...Then it was off to the ferry, a chat with a gentleman who has been walking around the island for as long as I've been here, to find out he's actually been living here for 3 years now...just a short chat...but connection...and smiles.
The radio show was fun and comfortable and I hope I connected with those who were listening, as Ginny and I discussed the ins and outs of depression, how to identify it, how to be proactive and what to think about when dealing with it...connection with the greater world out there within ear shot of the radio...connection.
Finally I joined my students and friends, Elizabeth and Tanis, to celebrate the completion of a herbal course. We sat in the park and then went for dinner. We talked and laughed and shared and cried and ate and walked...and connected.
Each person I came in contact with today added immensely to my energy, to my joy, to my life...because I connected intentionally with each one and let them connect with me. Without fear, or worry, or concern. It wasn't until I got home that I recognized what a monumental day of connectedness I had just experienced, and I sit now...mulling over the day...giving thanks for all the opportunities we have to smile and share and love...without expectation of gaining any thing from that person...just connecting, because we truly are all one.
Sept 16, 2014
I had been in Nanaimo to do a radio show for our local station, CHLY 101.7 with the radio host, Ginny, who is also a student of mine and of course a friend. After the humiliation of the previous days DD, I was feeling happy and beautiful and had started the day with a visit to my doctor to check on my progress. Big gold star! I had been keeping careful track of my days via calendar and had noticed some interesting patterns in my moods, but most of all I was aware the lump in my throat was gone and that my motivation was much higher...easier to keep my house clean...easier to set boundaries. But...the insomnia was still bad and the weeping still happening in the evenings. As I sat waiting for my doctor I read over my list of "worries" which I had written down three weeks earlier after the initial diagnosis...10 things I was worrying about...fear of loss, fear of being alone, fear of worrying my kids, lack of motivation and so on. In going over them again, I realized that more then half were no longer of any concern to me. wow! Now that's progress. I had a great connection with my doctor, she encouraged me to keep being proactive...no medication...and I was off to my next appointment...
This time I will keep the place private, but suffice it to say the person I came in contact with was very distressed, and due to my own stupidity around drinking, i was able to commiserate, empathize, give her a hug and really listen and connect, and there were smiles...Then it was off to the ferry, a chat with a gentleman who has been walking around the island for as long as I've been here, to find out he's actually been living here for 3 years now...just a short chat...but connection...and smiles.
The radio show was fun and comfortable and I hope I connected with those who were listening, as Ginny and I discussed the ins and outs of depression, how to identify it, how to be proactive and what to think about when dealing with it...connection with the greater world out there within ear shot of the radio...connection.
Finally I joined my students and friends, Elizabeth and Tanis, to celebrate the completion of a herbal course. We sat in the park and then went for dinner. We talked and laughed and shared and cried and ate and walked...and connected.
Each person I came in contact with today added immensely to my energy, to my joy, to my life...because I connected intentionally with each one and let them connect with me. Without fear, or worry, or concern. It wasn't until I got home that I recognized what a monumental day of connectedness I had just experienced, and I sit now...mulling over the day...giving thanks for all the opportunities we have to smile and share and love...without expectation of gaining any thing from that person...just connecting, because we truly are all one.
Sept 16, 2014
Powerlessness and Drunken Dialing...
I "drunken dialed" last night at 145 in the morning...repeatedly...till I woke the bastard up. I know, "crazy as shit" behaviour. Ah me. I woke up this morning humiliated and weeping and my daughter in law, in the loveliest way possible, told me I was boring, that what I was going through was standard behaviour for a break up...you know...initial sadness, trying the "friend" route...realizing it would not work...drunken dialing...feelings of humiliation. I am smiling at the moment, because it IS rather funny. But it wasn't last night...
So, my relationship with my lover/friend has ended. It is interesting to me that it is not the loss of lover that is so incredibly painful, but the sense of powerlessness I feel, yet again, when a man decides he is done. When a man can make or break the happiness in my life by a simple decision where they decide what they think is "best for me" or that I will have the strength to "deal with it". Whether it is a love relationship, or my relationship to my father, pastor, husband ...it has been a long saga of powerlessness for me around men.
So here I am...feeling humiliated by my standard, boring behaviour, wondering how on earth I can ever have a healthy relationship with a man without losing my own power, why I can't seem to be healthy enough in my own self to choose a normal, healthy individual...
I am licking my wounds and hoping I can learn to be a little less naive without losing the softness that is me. I am hoping I can learn to listen to that powerful intuitive voice that I did not listen to many times during this relationship. I am hoping I can live in the moment, hold onto some good lessons and let those who do not honour me go their way.
I am aware of some changes in behaviour patterns, some improvements, some boundaries which I am slowly implementing in my life, but it feels like slow going.
I will definitely hold out hope that somewhere there is a committed man who is strong enough to do battle with me; strong enough to take the bad with the good, because the good is amazing; and strong enough to not be afraid of what real love looks like.
I did have a friend tell me that both she and HER friend were so tempted to dial their respective boyfriends one night, they refused to drink a drop of the hard stuff. The waitress kept asking them if they didn't want something to drink beside cranberry soda, and upon discovering the reason behind said teetotal-ling, burst into laughter and said it was one of the best things she'd heard...apparently drunken dialing is rampant...
Three cheers for drunken dialing! Hip, hip, hooray...etc...
So, my relationship with my lover/friend has ended. It is interesting to me that it is not the loss of lover that is so incredibly painful, but the sense of powerlessness I feel, yet again, when a man decides he is done. When a man can make or break the happiness in my life by a simple decision where they decide what they think is "best for me" or that I will have the strength to "deal with it". Whether it is a love relationship, or my relationship to my father, pastor, husband ...it has been a long saga of powerlessness for me around men.
So here I am...feeling humiliated by my standard, boring behaviour, wondering how on earth I can ever have a healthy relationship with a man without losing my own power, why I can't seem to be healthy enough in my own self to choose a normal, healthy individual...
I am licking my wounds and hoping I can learn to be a little less naive without losing the softness that is me. I am hoping I can learn to listen to that powerful intuitive voice that I did not listen to many times during this relationship. I am hoping I can live in the moment, hold onto some good lessons and let those who do not honour me go their way.
I am aware of some changes in behaviour patterns, some improvements, some boundaries which I am slowly implementing in my life, but it feels like slow going.
I will definitely hold out hope that somewhere there is a committed man who is strong enough to do battle with me; strong enough to take the bad with the good, because the good is amazing; and strong enough to not be afraid of what real love looks like.
I did have a friend tell me that both she and HER friend were so tempted to dial their respective boyfriends one night, they refused to drink a drop of the hard stuff. The waitress kept asking them if they didn't want something to drink beside cranberry soda, and upon discovering the reason behind said teetotal-ling, burst into laughter and said it was one of the best things she'd heard...apparently drunken dialing is rampant...
Three cheers for drunken dialing! Hip, hip, hooray...etc...
White Pelican
You didn't know that your life moved in rhythms , did you?
Or that there was a sweet spiral that brought you back again, full circle, yet never quite the same, until you learned that aching lesson
You understood Earth's seasons, Oh yes! the slow turn of soil from frigid brittleness to sensually moist, then barren and hard, and finally sweetly rich again with the scent of dying summer,
But...you did not realize your own life turned in seasons
Long tepid years of bruising work
And the hard rattle of pain
Soft years of grace and then winters of lifelessness
That these would turn and flow and turn again and spiral up, ever tightening the circle as you were lifted sunward
Burning hard against the blue sky
you are like that pure white pelican I saw long ago
Soaring ever higher in the tightest of spirals
Lifted through that sweet chimney of air
Squeezed heavenward
And released
Heather Macleod. Copyright August 19, 2014
Or that there was a sweet spiral that brought you back again, full circle, yet never quite the same, until you learned that aching lesson
You understood Earth's seasons, Oh yes! the slow turn of soil from frigid brittleness to sensually moist, then barren and hard, and finally sweetly rich again with the scent of dying summer,
But...you did not realize your own life turned in seasons
Long tepid years of bruising work
And the hard rattle of pain
Soft years of grace and then winters of lifelessness
That these would turn and flow and turn again and spiral up, ever tightening the circle as you were lifted sunward
Burning hard against the blue sky
you are like that pure white pelican I saw long ago
Soaring ever higher in the tightest of spirals
Lifted through that sweet chimney of air
Squeezed heavenward
And released
Heather Macleod. Copyright August 19, 2014
I Am the Door
Jesus said, "I am the door." What could that possibly mean in a world ripped apart over greed and religious wars, many of the very people who profess to follow Christ's Way taking liberal part in the mayhem? "I am the door." The door to what?
I'm sitting in Georgie's Cafe. I walked 15 minutes along the busy W. Saanich Road with the stink of car fumes in my nose, throat and lungs. I am always surprised at the resilience of herbs that grow along a busy roadway, the plant I noticed in particular being one of my very favorite, the Hawthorne tree. In many cultures it is ALSO believed to be a doorway to other dimensions. These trees are heavy with ripening berries today, still green yet, but abundant in spite of the barrage of noxious air they breathe in daily. I have observed the Hawthorne tree and called it the Jesus tree. The similarities are numerous.
It is a classic tonic for heart disease, and taking a few drops at a time is also known to help heal a broken heart. There are thorns and blood red berries, leaves that are called "bread and butter" which were often eaten by the poor and hungry when they had little else, and then there is this "doorway" thing...
It is in Georgie's Cafe, where I sit to drink un-pampered coffee, I see the picture titled "The Doorway". The door in it is cerulean blue, similar to a door I painted on a house I once owned. There are stone steps leading to the door with bright flowers in pots, ivy hanging heavy over it all and a cobbled street...
What was Jesus thinking of when he said, "I am the door."?
If the stories about him are true, he owned nothing in those three years we know about him; not even a pillow to lay his head on. How was he able to give so much while owning nothing? New ideas. Healing. Feeding. Raising the dead...all from nothing but his words; nothing material.
" I am the door." The door into abundance. The door into health. The door into all we think is unattainable. The door into The Kingdom, where everything is possible. "I am the door."
August 12, 2014
Breaking Open
My heart broke open today
and I was afraid to look
only for a moment though
because I remembered
that we are only love
we are only grace
and so I looked at the mess
that ran from my being
and found only love
and concern
and compassion
and trust in the process
Open wide your heart, brothers and sisters
and do not fear the pain
for pain is only in closing ourselves off
when we are open
the pain
is a bright sunrise
that illuminates a world newly conceived
This is a true thing
though we did not know it
This is a true thing
though we struggled in the light
Perhaps we thought the light
would burn us beyond recognition
beyond our own recognition
of our own identity
which we have learned to love to hate
Maybe that is because we are not
who we always thought we were
but instead we are light
waiting to escape
and so we must allow our hearts to break
and not think it a hateful thing
Heather Macleod Aug 7, 2014 Copyright
and I was afraid to look
only for a moment though
because I remembered
that we are only love
we are only grace
and so I looked at the mess
that ran from my being
and found only love
and concern
and compassion
and trust in the process
Open wide your heart, brothers and sisters
and do not fear the pain
for pain is only in closing ourselves off
when we are open
the pain
is a bright sunrise
that illuminates a world newly conceived
This is a true thing
though we did not know it
This is a true thing
though we struggled in the light
Perhaps we thought the light
would burn us beyond recognition
beyond our own recognition
of our own identity
which we have learned to love to hate
Maybe that is because we are not
who we always thought we were
but instead we are light
waiting to escape
and so we must allow our hearts to break
and not think it a hateful thing
Heather Macleod Aug 7, 2014 Copyright
Baby trees growing from a "Nursery" stump...new life always grows out of death...
An Abundance Mentality
Have you ever been with someone and wanted the time to never end...just keep them around and hold on to the feeling? How about eating? Something tastes so good you just want more and more, or maybe entertainment, euphoria inducing entertainment, and you gorge, because it feels nice? I have. It is only in the past couple of days I have learned something about myself, and I am thrilled to learn it.
In my current relationship, I am not living with my lover/friend. We have separate homes and like it that way. In a previous post I mentioned we are compatible in every way. Forgot to say we're not compatible living together. We both like our space. There is, however, a tendency to drift back toward traditional thinking and consider that we should be together more, because, gracious, if it's this nice to be together when we are, perhaps we should hold onto this feeling!
This evening we were hanging out together, David and I. We had the loveliest day, beginning with an excursion into Nanaimo...then we went our separate ways, got back together for a music practice, some cold salmon and salad and a visit. I just didn't want it to end, and yet I love my alone time. I wondered about this; the feeling of needing to keep that good feeling around a bit longer and then I got it, in fact it's been dawning on me in a few different areas lately. This is starvation mentality. I had lived for so long with sadness and loss that I wanted to hold onto any good feelings and experiences I could get. But guess what? There is another good experience to be had tomorrow, and the next day, and the next day, and...and so I kissed David goodnight and let him go, and we will both sleep better for sleeping alone.
No matter what comes my way, the world is full of ecstasy. There will be joy tomorrow, there will be delight. Yes, there are heartaches, but they are just rain showers that help the growth, and the sun always comes out again. Always. I don't want to have a mentality of lack; a starvation view. No! I want to see abundance wherever I go... as much abundance for tomorrow as there is today...and the day after that, and the day after that!
In my current relationship, I am not living with my lover/friend. We have separate homes and like it that way. In a previous post I mentioned we are compatible in every way. Forgot to say we're not compatible living together. We both like our space. There is, however, a tendency to drift back toward traditional thinking and consider that we should be together more, because, gracious, if it's this nice to be together when we are, perhaps we should hold onto this feeling!
This evening we were hanging out together, David and I. We had the loveliest day, beginning with an excursion into Nanaimo...then we went our separate ways, got back together for a music practice, some cold salmon and salad and a visit. I just didn't want it to end, and yet I love my alone time. I wondered about this; the feeling of needing to keep that good feeling around a bit longer and then I got it, in fact it's been dawning on me in a few different areas lately. This is starvation mentality. I had lived for so long with sadness and loss that I wanted to hold onto any good feelings and experiences I could get. But guess what? There is another good experience to be had tomorrow, and the next day, and the next day, and...and so I kissed David goodnight and let him go, and we will both sleep better for sleeping alone.
No matter what comes my way, the world is full of ecstasy. There will be joy tomorrow, there will be delight. Yes, there are heartaches, but they are just rain showers that help the growth, and the sun always comes out again. Always. I don't want to have a mentality of lack; a starvation view. No! I want to see abundance wherever I go... as much abundance for tomorrow as there is today...and the day after that, and the day after that!
Sane or Insane?
The word sane is defined as being "reasonable or sensible"...hmmm.. If that's the case, I'm thinking that most of life can then be categorized as insane, myself included. I recently read a statement that said something like, "...the only choices in life we have control over are how we respond to the situations in our life." I think we have a few more choices, such as our thoughts, daily, and our actions...but I suppose it's all the same thing; our daily response to life.
What is deemed a reasonable and sensible response in our society? I am aware that those who respond in a "normal" way, those who are considered "sane", are actually not at all. And yet, how can we know any more? How can we know what is reasonable and sensible, unless we look into our own hearts? And do we WANT to behave in a reasonable and sensible way?
I watch our interactions in life with interest. I recently read the response of a concerned individual who was lamenting the fate of a baby seal, left high and dry to die on the beach, the wardens refusing to help. I remember helping such a baby seal back into the water, only to discover later that the mothers regularly leave their babies up on the shore, so they can go hunting for food without the baby being subjected to the predators in the water...oops. My kind, reasonable response probably harmed that baby seal. I have listened to a friend speak unreasonableness, only to find out a few weeks later it was actually true. I have seen my 9 month old baby grand daughter communicate with my friend, her hand on his arm, looking long into his eyes and saying nothing, yet communicating so much...yes, this is unreasonable to our way of thinking, but it is observably profound. Is it insane? Are we all insane? Is this business in Gaza, just the latest in a whole history of blood and genocide and hatred and religious and economic greed and fervor, sane? It is reasonable and sensible to some.
We would do well to drop all judgement of another's behaviour until we have first thought through the possibility of our own insanity, our own penchant for unreasonableness, our own skewed outlook and perverse ability to justify our actions with the definition of "reasonable" and "sensible"...
Think I need a nap...
August 3, 2014
What is deemed a reasonable and sensible response in our society? I am aware that those who respond in a "normal" way, those who are considered "sane", are actually not at all. And yet, how can we know any more? How can we know what is reasonable and sensible, unless we look into our own hearts? And do we WANT to behave in a reasonable and sensible way?
I watch our interactions in life with interest. I recently read the response of a concerned individual who was lamenting the fate of a baby seal, left high and dry to die on the beach, the wardens refusing to help. I remember helping such a baby seal back into the water, only to discover later that the mothers regularly leave their babies up on the shore, so they can go hunting for food without the baby being subjected to the predators in the water...oops. My kind, reasonable response probably harmed that baby seal. I have listened to a friend speak unreasonableness, only to find out a few weeks later it was actually true. I have seen my 9 month old baby grand daughter communicate with my friend, her hand on his arm, looking long into his eyes and saying nothing, yet communicating so much...yes, this is unreasonable to our way of thinking, but it is observably profound. Is it insane? Are we all insane? Is this business in Gaza, just the latest in a whole history of blood and genocide and hatred and religious and economic greed and fervor, sane? It is reasonable and sensible to some.
We would do well to drop all judgement of another's behaviour until we have first thought through the possibility of our own insanity, our own penchant for unreasonableness, our own skewed outlook and perverse ability to justify our actions with the definition of "reasonable" and "sensible"...
Think I need a nap...
August 3, 2014
Compassion
We were born to die. It is a strange knowledge, this; our impermanence and our immortality. Opposites always existing side by side. Birth. Death. Mortal. Immortal. I am thinking about this, because I am thinking of the number of ways we die in our lifetime. It makes me wonder if the actual physical dying is as bad. I have known the terrors of grief; the agony and the sobs that rip a soul apart. I have known the loss of friends, the confusion of miscommunication and the hurried hurt. I have felt the sting of rejection; known what it is to feel worthless and unwanted. I have seen the hopelessness of seeing the things you love slip away and having to stand and watch. All of these deaths in life shatter a soul. They do not leave us strong, but fragile. Fragile enough to finally identify with others in their frailty. Weak enough to know what it feels like to be scared and alone and broke. Then one day it may finally dawn on us, as it is dawning on me...dying in this life makes me compassionate. That is all. If I am frail I do not have the strength to try to fix someone or "make it better." I only have the shattered capacity to listen and to occupy another soul's lonely, frightened place with them. If I can do nothing else, I can listen, I can hear, I can identify with.
I am aware of the anger that exists in this world of mine. I am aware of the society and the values that permeate so much of the western world. It is all about accumulation and preservation and going farther. There is no time in this fast paced society to stop and listen. Listen to the wind or the rain or the rustling leaves...or the struggling friend.
If we do nothing else in this life but be a friend we would still do well. If our thoughts were turned more to the state of the cedar tree across the driveway and the sharp scent lifting from it on a dry hot summer day, if we smell the dry fruit scent of a rural country lane and inhale the dry dust of the road and hold our loved ones close and wonder about the curl behind our grandchild's ear, it would be more than enough.
What is it that makes us think there is something we have to reach for, attain, conquer? We are here to love; and loving means allowing and appreciating and experiencing all that is. This is all we have; Love. And it is more than enough!
I am aware of the anger that exists in this world of mine. I am aware of the society and the values that permeate so much of the western world. It is all about accumulation and preservation and going farther. There is no time in this fast paced society to stop and listen. Listen to the wind or the rain or the rustling leaves...or the struggling friend.
If we do nothing else in this life but be a friend we would still do well. If our thoughts were turned more to the state of the cedar tree across the driveway and the sharp scent lifting from it on a dry hot summer day, if we smell the dry fruit scent of a rural country lane and inhale the dry dust of the road and hold our loved ones close and wonder about the curl behind our grandchild's ear, it would be more than enough.
What is it that makes us think there is something we have to reach for, attain, conquer? We are here to love; and loving means allowing and appreciating and experiencing all that is. This is all we have; Love. And it is more than enough!
Life is Beautiful...
Life is beautiful...terrifying and terrible...and beautiful. I wander out in the sunshine today, exquisite sunshine, and I realize how much of it all comes down to this...sunshine and heat and grass under my feet and silence. I wander over to the blackberries, the first rich dark fruit boasting their temptation, surrounded by vicious thorns. The parched, dying roses are giving off the most glorious scent and I accidentally tread on the velvet soft body of a dead vole. Everywhere there is beauty and terror, and pleasure and hurt, and the glory grows from the suffering and I am aware of the magnificence that emanates from pain.
I am feeling today, really feeling...and wondering about a few things. I have finally begun to question this paralysis in myself, the inability to get much of anything done; the need to simply be, sitting with arms heavy and heart still. Somewhere, somehow I have to start living a "productive" life again. The words PTSD (post traumatic stress disorder) popped into my head the other day. I had been conscious of joking about the fact I may have adult ADHD, but wasn't that serious about it. Somehow this thought stuck in my head about the trauma, so I got onto one of those psychologist internet quiz things and took tests for both of the above. I scored high in both...hmmm. I knew my kids probably suffered from this. You can't watch your dad die, laying in his own blood, 4 short months after seeing their grandmother pass away, with their mother coming unglued from too much stress surrounding that time. You can't have this followed by church trauma and hellfire and shunning and unresolved issues from a spiritually and physically abusive situation without some sort of trauma issues, but I never thought about myself.
In hindsight, I can say the trauma was huge and it settled deep into my memory and into my bones and muscles and heart. OK, so I'm a herbalist, how do I deal with these issues.? I have some ideas...so I go searching again...and I find something else out...depression is closely linked to both of the above. But I'm not depressed, I've never been depressed...well, once, long ago.....
I took another psychology test. Oh my, and it all becomes so clear. According to this test I would be considered to have moderate to severe depression...and I am undone. What kind of psyche can deny this sort of thing for so long? What kind of conditioning to happiness can see me avoiding the fall-out that has finally gotten some attention from the years of trauma I experienced? I am sad...have been for a very long time...and I am happy too...and happy to finally understand myself a bit better...not crazy...just sad. As I said, I am a herbalist. I am capable of treating this, and at the moment I'm not really ready to. I want to finally feel it for what it is. I had no idea that depression could feel so beautiful and so freeing and so disabling all at the same time.
Yes, I know it's an internet test. And I should probably go get myself tested elsewhere, but I am content for the moment. I don't like labels and I don't believe in "owning" dis-ease, but I am observing this and I am learning so very much from it. I assume it will help me with my herbal practice, and I will have a greater compassion for others, and in the mean time i will continue to be kind to myself, kind to others, and see if I can get some editing and dishes done today. Oh, and I'm heading back out to sit in the sunshine...
July 26. 2014
I am feeling today, really feeling...and wondering about a few things. I have finally begun to question this paralysis in myself, the inability to get much of anything done; the need to simply be, sitting with arms heavy and heart still. Somewhere, somehow I have to start living a "productive" life again. The words PTSD (post traumatic stress disorder) popped into my head the other day. I had been conscious of joking about the fact I may have adult ADHD, but wasn't that serious about it. Somehow this thought stuck in my head about the trauma, so I got onto one of those psychologist internet quiz things and took tests for both of the above. I scored high in both...hmmm. I knew my kids probably suffered from this. You can't watch your dad die, laying in his own blood, 4 short months after seeing their grandmother pass away, with their mother coming unglued from too much stress surrounding that time. You can't have this followed by church trauma and hellfire and shunning and unresolved issues from a spiritually and physically abusive situation without some sort of trauma issues, but I never thought about myself.
In hindsight, I can say the trauma was huge and it settled deep into my memory and into my bones and muscles and heart. OK, so I'm a herbalist, how do I deal with these issues.? I have some ideas...so I go searching again...and I find something else out...depression is closely linked to both of the above. But I'm not depressed, I've never been depressed...well, once, long ago.....
I took another psychology test. Oh my, and it all becomes so clear. According to this test I would be considered to have moderate to severe depression...and I am undone. What kind of psyche can deny this sort of thing for so long? What kind of conditioning to happiness can see me avoiding the fall-out that has finally gotten some attention from the years of trauma I experienced? I am sad...have been for a very long time...and I am happy too...and happy to finally understand myself a bit better...not crazy...just sad. As I said, I am a herbalist. I am capable of treating this, and at the moment I'm not really ready to. I want to finally feel it for what it is. I had no idea that depression could feel so beautiful and so freeing and so disabling all at the same time.
Yes, I know it's an internet test. And I should probably go get myself tested elsewhere, but I am content for the moment. I don't like labels and I don't believe in "owning" dis-ease, but I am observing this and I am learning so very much from it. I assume it will help me with my herbal practice, and I will have a greater compassion for others, and in the mean time i will continue to be kind to myself, kind to others, and see if I can get some editing and dishes done today. Oh, and I'm heading back out to sit in the sunshine...
July 26. 2014
Seeing
and you see it, heather
you see it
it is all angels
and grace
and the terror of holiness
and voids
and tears falling and love rising
like the boiling clouds
and the soft morning rain
on the sea
the waves and the winds
and the terrifying holes
we don't want to remember
it is aching
and pleasure
and singing and the frightened scream
it is the shout of hatred
and the voice of hope
it is needing and not needing
please, please
not needing
July 26, 2014 copyright Heather Macleod
you see it
it is all angels
and grace
and the terror of holiness
and voids
and tears falling and love rising
like the boiling clouds
and the soft morning rain
on the sea
the waves and the winds
and the terrifying holes
we don't want to remember
it is aching
and pleasure
and singing and the frightened scream
it is the shout of hatred
and the voice of hope
it is needing and not needing
please, please
not needing
July 26, 2014 copyright Heather Macleod
Ready
I would like
To be ready for Death
Spirit grown larger than life
All this world released
So that when Death calls me
I will step free of my skin
Leave it lying
Small and wrinkled
And smiling
Turn toward joy
Let it be no different
then a stroll down forested pathway
or eager feet
stepping from pebbled beach
into a warm sea
I want Death to surprise me
With its ease
So I will die now
Every day
Of my own free will
And when Death comes to call
I will only change direction
And go on living
copyright July 2014
To be ready for Death
Spirit grown larger than life
All this world released
So that when Death calls me
I will step free of my skin
Leave it lying
Small and wrinkled
And smiling
Turn toward joy
Let it be no different
then a stroll down forested pathway
or eager feet
stepping from pebbled beach
into a warm sea
I want Death to surprise me
With its ease
So I will die now
Every day
Of my own free will
And when Death comes to call
I will only change direction
And go on living
copyright July 2014
David
I first saw David in the coffee shop. He was perched in the corner like a bird of prey, surveying the room for potential mice. I happened to be available. Not more then a few hours before I had said with great aplomb, “I need a Sugar Daddy Lite!' and so the dance began. Although the first steps onto the dance floor were quite disastrous, I learned quickly that nothing is an accident and the dance is even more beautiful when the mistakes are incorporated into the choreography as though they were intended from the beginning. Perhaps they are.
It has been 8 months since I first met this crazy, outrageous, wise, patient and impatient, spontaneous, arrogant and egotistical, adventurous, curious, kind, generous and loving man. I have been shocked, angry, hurt, amazed, impressed, irritated, downright depressed, loved gloriously and absolutely allowed to be myself, whatever that may look like. I have been taught by him and he has learned from me. We drag the truth out and throw it in each others faces and it is terrifying and edgy and yet safe, so very safe.
How did I decide I wanted to be with this man? This relationship goes against my religious upbringing. It laughs in the face of societal approval and smacks of scandal and impropriety...at least to me. Maybe no one else even notices. Old ideas die hard. But I am content beyond expectation and peaceful as a summer sea. We are compatible in every way...in our strength, in our mental abilities, in our spiritual pursuits, in our sexual enjoyment , in our musical exploration and our emotional forays. What have I learned from this relationship?
I must own my magnificence and love myself in order to be loved.
I can allow this man to be whoever he needs to be and trust that I am still safe in this.
The world will give me what I need when I need it, I only need to let go of fear...all fear.
I am stronger, much stronger than I think.
Life is not linear, but moves in a circle and there is a rhythm to life if I am patient.
I cannot go back, or compare, or expect.
Jealousy destroys.
I must trust myself and God and that is safe enough.
Fear is control and control is fear. The only other option is allowing and love.
Sex is good and intended for joy and laughter and spiritually based.
I must let go of old memories and hurts in order to move on in my life.
Meditation brings peace and clarity.
I wrote the following poem about three months ago...before I realized that love is inside of myself regardless of who may or may not reciprocate it...It's been a lot of learning in a very short time...but every day we learn, and learn and learn, and all the learning is turning to loving...
July 23, 2014
It has been 8 months since I first met this crazy, outrageous, wise, patient and impatient, spontaneous, arrogant and egotistical, adventurous, curious, kind, generous and loving man. I have been shocked, angry, hurt, amazed, impressed, irritated, downright depressed, loved gloriously and absolutely allowed to be myself, whatever that may look like. I have been taught by him and he has learned from me. We drag the truth out and throw it in each others faces and it is terrifying and edgy and yet safe, so very safe.
How did I decide I wanted to be with this man? This relationship goes against my religious upbringing. It laughs in the face of societal approval and smacks of scandal and impropriety...at least to me. Maybe no one else even notices. Old ideas die hard. But I am content beyond expectation and peaceful as a summer sea. We are compatible in every way...in our strength, in our mental abilities, in our spiritual pursuits, in our sexual enjoyment , in our musical exploration and our emotional forays. What have I learned from this relationship?
I must own my magnificence and love myself in order to be loved.
I can allow this man to be whoever he needs to be and trust that I am still safe in this.
The world will give me what I need when I need it, I only need to let go of fear...all fear.
I am stronger, much stronger than I think.
Life is not linear, but moves in a circle and there is a rhythm to life if I am patient.
I cannot go back, or compare, or expect.
Jealousy destroys.
I must trust myself and God and that is safe enough.
Fear is control and control is fear. The only other option is allowing and love.
Sex is good and intended for joy and laughter and spiritually based.
I must let go of old memories and hurts in order to move on in my life.
Meditation brings peace and clarity.
I wrote the following poem about three months ago...before I realized that love is inside of myself regardless of who may or may not reciprocate it...It's been a lot of learning in a very short time...but every day we learn, and learn and learn, and all the learning is turning to loving...
July 23, 2014
I Know Love is True
I have known from the beginning I was made for loving
Wide hips and shapely legs
Tumbled hair and happy arms
But the eyes were sad
and the shoulders too narrow for strength
I love too much...I have always loved too much
and the heart breaks open daily
All people say I am strong
But I am not...I would scream my weakness to the world
And never stop the screaming
I would do well to case my heart round about with iron fittings
locking tight this precious thing
I would do well to inhabit my own heart in its ribbed cage
and leave the rest alone
But daily I venture into Love's territory
and defy the painful giant
who stands with derisive smile and leering gesture
at the very gates, barring my way full through
And hurl my love until this giant falters
falls and so consumed with the perfume of Love
lays down, a perfect path for me to enter there
For I know Love is true, though the whole world deny it
I know Love is true.
Heather Macleod - Copyright May 2014
Wide hips and shapely legs
Tumbled hair and happy arms
But the eyes were sad
and the shoulders too narrow for strength
I love too much...I have always loved too much
and the heart breaks open daily
All people say I am strong
But I am not...I would scream my weakness to the world
And never stop the screaming
I would do well to case my heart round about with iron fittings
locking tight this precious thing
I would do well to inhabit my own heart in its ribbed cage
and leave the rest alone
But daily I venture into Love's territory
and defy the painful giant
who stands with derisive smile and leering gesture
at the very gates, barring my way full through
And hurl my love until this giant falters
falls and so consumed with the perfume of Love
lays down, a perfect path for me to enter there
For I know Love is true, though the whole world deny it
I know Love is true.
Heather Macleod - Copyright May 2014
Cemetery
I'm sitting here in the cemetery. I have received instructions, row number, section and lot number, but who knew a cemetery was so badly marked. It has been at least 17 years since I visited my first husbands grave. I remember the day...I was weeping and wanted to visit him. I stood before the grave stone and felt nothing, absolutely nothing. He was gone, and there was no presence or memory of him there. Death can be a cold barren place, when we try to retrieve the feelings we had with flesh and blood.
I am here again, I can't find the stone. I wander into a building to see if I can find some sort of lot map and discover I have wandered into a mausoleum. This is a first for me. Silent. Silent. Pictures of the dead lining the walls with ornately scripted brass plaques and pictures of either the loved ones or saints. I am In awe. Who would come up with such a thing? It is otherworldly; tacky silk flowers lining the white marble walls, and no one in there, except for one lone mourner. I take pictures, because I must, but I am sneaky about it, as though somehow it's disrespectful to even think of taking pictures. How strange I am. It is in the echoing, ghostly-torrid halls of this mausoleum I see the ludicrousness of our attitude toward death. Yes, I could go down to the office and find someone to help me locate the stone, but is Don in the stone...yes, his bones are beneath, but that is only the package, the wonderful, smart, hardworking, manipulative, bullying, jealous and controlling husband I lived with for 14 years. I have been damaged from his damage, (and most likely my own damage damaged him) but I have also been given two wonderful children who emulate the best and brightest of this man who stumbled his brilliant and dark way through his 34 years this go- round.
So here I sit and I will meditate, and I will remember him and make my peace with him and set him free. In the process I will continue to lighten my own load of shoulds and coulds and what ifs...
...I open my eyes from my meditation, and I have been crying. I decide to check the markers one more time. I ask Jesus and the wind and the grass and the spirits for direction and I find it. It is 17 years grown over and suddenly so precious. I have no tools or gloves, but I tear away the sod gently with my bare hands and uncover his full name and the statement "UNCOMMON TREASURE". I sweep it with a broken off spruce branch I steal from a nearby tree. My hands are filthy and my nails full of dirt, but still I clear and clean and sweep and remember. I remember a scared 19 year old who married me when I got pregnant, even when he wasn't quite sure my baby was his. I remember a hardworking, hard and jealous young husband who sold his two beloved motorbikes so we could buy a house. He was so proud to be a home owner at 24 years old. I remember the exacting, abusive and difficult to understand father who, although he loved his kids, eventually alienated them with his unreasonable expecations and discipline. I remember how he finally said a few months before he died, "I DO need you, Heather."
Life is a treasure and a terror and we must live it or kill ourselves, I suppose, in one way or another. I often feel vulnerable and scared, but more often I feel my power wrapping itself around me and I am strong, very strong. I have the terror and the treasure and the sweet ability to hold some and let go of the rest, to thank for that.
I am finished cleaning the headstone. I wish I had a flower to leave, so I fish around in my purse and find a verse some slightly crazed looking lady handed me last night, written out by hand. It is perfect. I lay it down under the fresh spruce sprig and leave it there..."My grace is sufficient for thee, for my strength is made perfect in weakness..." Don and Heather, that Heather anyway, are dead, they are gone...
And so I leave them there, two kids trying to be parents and screwing it all up royally and still managing to produce our children, two amazing human beings. We are victorious, we humans. We will laugh throughout eternity when we finally wake to see the enormity of it all and how nothing was, or is, or ever will be a mistake. There is light in all of us and so much darkness as well...none of us is exempt.
Goodbye Don...
July 21, 2014
Pilgrimage
I have been told we do not follow a linear time line in this life, but that it is a circle, returning again and again to places and people and lessons. Our lives move away from and then return to our origins, or our experiences, our traumas and our sweet places. I have traveled back to Calgary to revisit some places that had remained fearful and unexamined...and the journey is an interesting one. When I came back from Mexico last Spring, I had a layover in Calgary, and the change in my mood upon being in that city was quite noticeable...and it made me think. "What happened to me in Calgary?" It didn't take much to realize I had experienced a great deal of loss, trauma and death in that city, and so I realized a pilgrimage was in order.
Recently I started a series of meditations in which I have been revisiting the child/young woman of my past. It has been fascinating to observe the memories which have resurfaced, and the connections and clarity I am finding in these observations, which I never had in the moment. I grew up in the Philippines (and that's another story), but we came back to Canada when I was 14, as my father was very sick. He died in Calgary. When I was 18 I returned to Calgary again, to integrate my Filipina culture with this new North American life, leaving my mother behind and coming to live with my sister, who had been back for a couple of years already. The culture shock was difficult, but manageable, but I got pregnant right away (no-one taught me about birth control, other than that it was sinful to copulate) and married the father of my children within about 4 months of arriving. This was a volatile and mentally (and physically at times) abusive relationship and I adored this man and stayed married to him (to my children's detriment) for the 14 years until he also died, 4 months after my mother died in my home. Loss became the norm to me and I developed the ability to "rise above it all" " be strong" and cope. After thinking I was in love with a new man, I was forbidden by the church to see him, and so I remarried a man in the church I was attending at the time, a church which was amazing and full of fear and life changing and bullying and freeing and binding...and wasn't really good for any of us. We moved to BC within a few years, and I thought that was the end of Calgary.
I have been afraid of so many things in my life, and I am seeing that these fears entered into my life at certain times. I was not able to process them at the time. I think in my generation we weren't exactly encouraged to process. And so back to my story...I came back to Calgary to face some fears. It has been 12 years since I left the church in Calgary, left my friends behind and lost the friendship with them. In this church you are discouraged from communicating with "backsliders" and that is what we were considered, and so I decided to return. First though, it was off to the cemetery to see ifs I could find my first husband's grave marker. I wandered and wandered, it had been 17 years since I had visited, and couldn't fine the stone...maybe I will return, maybe I won't. I am making my peace with this man.
Next it was off to Truth Church, a place I was terrified to return to. Deep breath and through the doors and that was that. My fears were quickly put to rest and I was welcomed warmly. I remember the kindness, it was always there, and I remember the fear and the control. Maybe the church has changed, but one can never know these things until you spend more time there, and it's not a place I will return to. My friends from the past, however, were delighted to see me, and I them, and peace was made and fears were allayed, and I walked out a happier woman then when I walked in.
I wrote to my friend..."I gotta say...church was beautiful, and so healing for me to see all my old friends, and be so warmly welcomed. Life is funny, the fears we build
up in our minds, although I was still very aware of the surface look vs the undercurrent. I am so often surprised by the love that comes my way now, but didn't you tell me...love yourself and you WILL be loved."
I'm not sure what else I will do while I am here. I would like to revisit a few old places and old friends. There have been some moments of delight as well as fear. A friend I haven't seen for 20 years couldn't stop hugging and kissing me, reminding me how I saved her life. (She was crippled with MS and I had recommended a book which changed everything for her) That was precious. We often don't realize how the small moments can change a life forever. I am humbled by love on this visit. And I will say it again "We often don't realize how the small moments can change a life forever."
Recently I started a series of meditations in which I have been revisiting the child/young woman of my past. It has been fascinating to observe the memories which have resurfaced, and the connections and clarity I am finding in these observations, which I never had in the moment. I grew up in the Philippines (and that's another story), but we came back to Canada when I was 14, as my father was very sick. He died in Calgary. When I was 18 I returned to Calgary again, to integrate my Filipina culture with this new North American life, leaving my mother behind and coming to live with my sister, who had been back for a couple of years already. The culture shock was difficult, but manageable, but I got pregnant right away (no-one taught me about birth control, other than that it was sinful to copulate) and married the father of my children within about 4 months of arriving. This was a volatile and mentally (and physically at times) abusive relationship and I adored this man and stayed married to him (to my children's detriment) for the 14 years until he also died, 4 months after my mother died in my home. Loss became the norm to me and I developed the ability to "rise above it all" " be strong" and cope. After thinking I was in love with a new man, I was forbidden by the church to see him, and so I remarried a man in the church I was attending at the time, a church which was amazing and full of fear and life changing and bullying and freeing and binding...and wasn't really good for any of us. We moved to BC within a few years, and I thought that was the end of Calgary.
I have been afraid of so many things in my life, and I am seeing that these fears entered into my life at certain times. I was not able to process them at the time. I think in my generation we weren't exactly encouraged to process. And so back to my story...I came back to Calgary to face some fears. It has been 12 years since I left the church in Calgary, left my friends behind and lost the friendship with them. In this church you are discouraged from communicating with "backsliders" and that is what we were considered, and so I decided to return. First though, it was off to the cemetery to see ifs I could find my first husband's grave marker. I wandered and wandered, it had been 17 years since I had visited, and couldn't fine the stone...maybe I will return, maybe I won't. I am making my peace with this man.
Next it was off to Truth Church, a place I was terrified to return to. Deep breath and through the doors and that was that. My fears were quickly put to rest and I was welcomed warmly. I remember the kindness, it was always there, and I remember the fear and the control. Maybe the church has changed, but one can never know these things until you spend more time there, and it's not a place I will return to. My friends from the past, however, were delighted to see me, and I them, and peace was made and fears were allayed, and I walked out a happier woman then when I walked in.
I wrote to my friend..."I gotta say...church was beautiful, and so healing for me to see all my old friends, and be so warmly welcomed. Life is funny, the fears we build
up in our minds, although I was still very aware of the surface look vs the undercurrent. I am so often surprised by the love that comes my way now, but didn't you tell me...love yourself and you WILL be loved."
I'm not sure what else I will do while I am here. I would like to revisit a few old places and old friends. There have been some moments of delight as well as fear. A friend I haven't seen for 20 years couldn't stop hugging and kissing me, reminding me how I saved her life. (She was crippled with MS and I had recommended a book which changed everything for her) That was precious. We often don't realize how the small moments can change a life forever. I am humbled by love on this visit. And I will say it again "We often don't realize how the small moments can change a life forever."
Reflection
The Beloved are always beautiful.
If they are not beautiful to us,
they are not beloved by us.
The Beloved is our mirror and we see ourselves.
And cannot truly love another until we love ourselves.
And so the Beloved is beautiful when we are beautiful.
Try it! It is a true thing.
If you see ugliness in another, it is only the ugliness of self.
If you see wounds in another they are your own wounds.
If you see flaws in another they are your flaws.
I thought today a strange thing,
Because I saw beauty in the Beloved.
I said to myself, "Why is my Beloved beautiful, so beautiful today?"
And my Beloved said to me, "You also are so beautiful today."
And the thought I had was this...
My Beloved is beautiful, because I am beautiful
And I am beautiful because my Beloved is beautiful.
It is all reflection.
What a world, what a world this would be if all were Beloved.
If they are not beautiful to us,
they are not beloved by us.
The Beloved is our mirror and we see ourselves.
And cannot truly love another until we love ourselves.
And so the Beloved is beautiful when we are beautiful.
Try it! It is a true thing.
If you see ugliness in another, it is only the ugliness of self.
If you see wounds in another they are your own wounds.
If you see flaws in another they are your flaws.
I thought today a strange thing,
Because I saw beauty in the Beloved.
I said to myself, "Why is my Beloved beautiful, so beautiful today?"
And my Beloved said to me, "You also are so beautiful today."
And the thought I had was this...
My Beloved is beautiful, because I am beautiful
And I am beautiful because my Beloved is beautiful.
It is all reflection.
What a world, what a world this would be if all were Beloved.
Thoughts and "Things"
Today I was talking to a dear friend. We were ruminating on the things in our lives which were so, SO difficult, and how they were the very catalyst for that thing which ended up being so wonderful. I was also thanked by another dear friend today for being a kind and forgiving person and I realized something else...there is really nothing to forgive when I see that the thing which I once perceived was hurtful, is the thing which actually graced me profoundly with joy.
I'm using the word "thing" a lot in this post because life is FULL of "things". It is how we view the "things" in life that determines whether or not we will be filled with the joy of the journey, or filled with the sorrow of guilt and regret. Stop! STOP for a moment and ponder. Is there truly anyTHING in life which can have THAT much power that it destroys the grace which is available to us in every living moment?
My heart is full and my eyes feel happy. I did a meditation tonight where I thought about a box, and placed my worries in the box, and I realized they came down to a few simple things, and that they were so, so small a thing to worry about. Often the mind creates a much bigger drama then reality actually holds. As I begin to get out of my mind more and more and enter into a state of living with my body, or being with my body, I begin to realize that there are far fewer things to worry about than I had assumed. Ah, the mind, the mind...it is a cruel task master.
So here's the thing...tonight I'm happy because the last few days I concentrated on simple things. I went to the beach with my daughter in law and grand baby. Had coffee with friends. I sang and worked a couple hours in a market garden. I had breakfast AND dinner with my love and meditated and chatted. I saw my grand daughter again and picked some herbs. I drank tea and sent off a few emails and encouraged a few people. These are good, simple things. These are things that make my heart happy. And I'm learning...if certain things don't make my heart happy, then darn it...stop doing those things!
I'm using the word "thing" a lot in this post because life is FULL of "things". It is how we view the "things" in life that determines whether or not we will be filled with the joy of the journey, or filled with the sorrow of guilt and regret. Stop! STOP for a moment and ponder. Is there truly anyTHING in life which can have THAT much power that it destroys the grace which is available to us in every living moment?
My heart is full and my eyes feel happy. I did a meditation tonight where I thought about a box, and placed my worries in the box, and I realized they came down to a few simple things, and that they were so, so small a thing to worry about. Often the mind creates a much bigger drama then reality actually holds. As I begin to get out of my mind more and more and enter into a state of living with my body, or being with my body, I begin to realize that there are far fewer things to worry about than I had assumed. Ah, the mind, the mind...it is a cruel task master.
So here's the thing...tonight I'm happy because the last few days I concentrated on simple things. I went to the beach with my daughter in law and grand baby. Had coffee with friends. I sang and worked a couple hours in a market garden. I had breakfast AND dinner with my love and meditated and chatted. I saw my grand daughter again and picked some herbs. I drank tea and sent off a few emails and encouraged a few people. These are good, simple things. These are things that make my heart happy. And I'm learning...if certain things don't make my heart happy, then darn it...stop doing those things!
The Spaces Between
In my constant longing for God or Peace, Whom I , in fact, find everywhere, I realize it is not so much the "locating" the Presence of God, but the "uncovering" of the GLORY. My ego is so often in the way, blocking like some sort of massive linebacker. I obscure God with pettiness...and fear...with judgments...and discontent for THIS moment. And yet I experience this unveiling of JOY more and more; experience it as God between the spaces; God in the silence; God in the emptiness.
I am reminded of the story of Elijah on Mount Horeb.
"And as Elijah stood there, the LORD passed by, and a mighty windstorm hit the mountain. It was such a terrible blast that the rocks were torn loose, but the LORD was not in the wind.
After the wind there was an earthquake, but the LORD was not in the earthquake.
And after the earthquake there was a fire, but the LORD was not in the fire.
And after the fire there was the sound of a gentle whisper.
When Elijah heard it, he wrapped his face in his cloak and went out and stood at the entrance of the cave. And a voice said, "What are you doing here, Elijah?"
The gentle whisper. God is the gentle whisper. "What are you doing here, Heather? Is my ego in the way...again?
I have heard that voice often in my life. Quiet. Intense. Loving. Concerned. It is in those moments when I am at the end of my trying and grasping and searching that I let go in exasperation and suddenly, there it is. The JOY between the spaces, the Laughter.
I am broadening the spaces and lessening the obstructions. I am getting out of the way.
June 21, 2014
I am reminded of the story of Elijah on Mount Horeb.
"And as Elijah stood there, the LORD passed by, and a mighty windstorm hit the mountain. It was such a terrible blast that the rocks were torn loose, but the LORD was not in the wind.
After the wind there was an earthquake, but the LORD was not in the earthquake.
And after the earthquake there was a fire, but the LORD was not in the fire.
And after the fire there was the sound of a gentle whisper.
When Elijah heard it, he wrapped his face in his cloak and went out and stood at the entrance of the cave. And a voice said, "What are you doing here, Elijah?"
The gentle whisper. God is the gentle whisper. "What are you doing here, Heather? Is my ego in the way...again?
I have heard that voice often in my life. Quiet. Intense. Loving. Concerned. It is in those moments when I am at the end of my trying and grasping and searching that I let go in exasperation and suddenly, there it is. The JOY between the spaces, the Laughter.
I am broadening the spaces and lessening the obstructions. I am getting out of the way.
June 21, 2014
More Than Just My Mind
I write a lot about my soul journey, my brain machinations, or the inner workings of my heart...and I don't often write about the every day life of Heather Ruth Macleod. It's not all angst and wonder around here. There are days of happy chatting with my family, holding my baby grand daughter and cooking up pots of bean soup. There are midnights I can't sleep (such as this one) when I write, or dance or eat watermelon or bake biscotti or sing.
I have a wonderful space to live in; one large workshop area with no walls (except for the bathroom of course) complete with four poster bed in one corner, a wood burning stove in another, a kitchen in the other and then there is the bathroom.
There is an old recycled deck off the front (with a lovely curving edge) which I can get to by opening large double doors which are old and wooden and funky and have the most atrocious creak when they move in the wind...I keep meaning to put some WD40 on the hinges. The floor is light pine and smooth to my feet. I've never painted the walls yet, they are white and rough and some of the window trim is missing and there are industrial type lights in the ceiling and a ceiling fan that doesn't work. Oh, and two skylights that let in even more light then the windows that already span two full sides of the space. There are some days and some nights when I push the furniture back and just dance (nothing that anyone else would want to see), but I dance the sickness out of my soul...not just write.
There are many ways to be home with yourself, and having a space I love is one of the very important things to me.Mind you, I generally love any space I'm in. I guess I just make it my own. Lately, due to an overactive mind, I find I want my space to have less and less and less extraneous in it. I am soothed by bareness, quiet space and no clutter...long ago i wrote..."I would live in a house of wood and green". To me that indicates a need for nature and all she has to offer...
I love to read, and I read too many philosophy and spirituality books; sometimes I have 3 or 4 on the go. I realized about a year ago that this has always been my way. Since I was a teenager I have searched for God. I think many people may have wondered why my journeys took me to so many different places and religions and beliefs, but I am a seeker and I will not stop seeking. And happily I find God everywhere i go. I keep the joy I find and move on. Now I am trying to shed grief, expectations and guilt. it is happening, and as long as I am not in too much of a hurry (for I have been impatient), I will continue to grow in peace.
I have 4 cats, though I'm not partial to them, and one dog. I think a lot of my sleep issues may have to do with animals, although only Molly the dog is allowed inside at night (unless it is wickedly storming outside). All 4 of the cats have been adopted and I will see out my responsibilities, and there is the bonus of some mice being culled, but there is also a noticeable lack of birds around my home.
My beautiful grand daughter, Ariadne, lives right next door in the main house with her parents. We bought the 5 acres together and Ariadne's mom, Sarah, loves to build a garden. Me, I'm not much of a gardener, but I contribute in different ways, and I have my own wild and crazy herb garden just outside my own window. It is a rambunctiously overgrown and joyful plot, welcoming to weeds as well as the plants I put in, for I know that "weeds" are not actually weeds, but have their own powerful potency!
We have a pond that is overgrown with some sort of disgusting algae at the moment, but which often resonates with the singing of frogs. It teems with newts as well, so we don't have much of a mosquito problem. We also have 6 happy hens and a parading rooster, Mr Pimpson, who struts and bullies his way around the girls. I checked on them one night and he was snuggled in with the girls around him, like some sort of creepy master of the harem. Didn't look like he was doing much protecting that night. More like being protected, but he is a beauty, so we all indulge him.
I love to sing and I write songs often, flinging them out of my head and off the ends of my fingers whenever I feel the spirit move me. Lately I've been teaming up with other musicians and having fun playing and singing in public. Sometimes it is joyful and other times I feel the stress of trying to perform up to certain standards, rather than just sing my own world, my own voice, my own spirit, but I am learning. I am learning to be myself and not try to fit into other people's agendas. This is not always easy for a "people pleaser".
I have a friend and lover since my husband left, and although I'm not divorced yet, having to wait a year since the time my husband left, I am enjoying all that I am learning with this wonderful man. He is older than me by almost a generation, but is younger than me in his heart and a kind and happy man. We do have fun. Laughter is always present, and silliness and lots of good cooking and always, always, always the reminder to me to "just be Heather". I am grateful for the peace of this place with David, for we have not always been peaceful on our own. It seems we are good for one another, and there is a slow delight growing in this odd relationship. We often look at each other, shake our heads and say WTF.
One of my favorite things to do is wander out in nature, and here on the West Coast it is easy to do most of the year. I am learning to listen to the plants (I used to be afraid of this) and they are teaching me a few things about simply being Heather, about slowing down, about how to eat. I have a lovely little herb shop attached to my living space which can be accessed through a secret door...hee hee...and I dry herbs which I have gathered, and store tinctures and salves on the bare wooden shelves in that space. To be around these plants is a lovely thing, although I'm not much good at houseplants and things I have to take care of. i think I've taken care of too many things for too long. One gets weary at a certain point i suppose.
And so here I am, Heather Ruth Macleod, 51 years old...with two beautiful children, a most wonderful daughter in law and a grandbaby of extreme delight, and I am filled with blessings. I only need to continue to learn to let go of those things which no longer serve me...
June 20, 2014
I have a wonderful space to live in; one large workshop area with no walls (except for the bathroom of course) complete with four poster bed in one corner, a wood burning stove in another, a kitchen in the other and then there is the bathroom.
There is an old recycled deck off the front (with a lovely curving edge) which I can get to by opening large double doors which are old and wooden and funky and have the most atrocious creak when they move in the wind...I keep meaning to put some WD40 on the hinges. The floor is light pine and smooth to my feet. I've never painted the walls yet, they are white and rough and some of the window trim is missing and there are industrial type lights in the ceiling and a ceiling fan that doesn't work. Oh, and two skylights that let in even more light then the windows that already span two full sides of the space. There are some days and some nights when I push the furniture back and just dance (nothing that anyone else would want to see), but I dance the sickness out of my soul...not just write.
There are many ways to be home with yourself, and having a space I love is one of the very important things to me.Mind you, I generally love any space I'm in. I guess I just make it my own. Lately, due to an overactive mind, I find I want my space to have less and less and less extraneous in it. I am soothed by bareness, quiet space and no clutter...long ago i wrote..."I would live in a house of wood and green". To me that indicates a need for nature and all she has to offer...
I love to read, and I read too many philosophy and spirituality books; sometimes I have 3 or 4 on the go. I realized about a year ago that this has always been my way. Since I was a teenager I have searched for God. I think many people may have wondered why my journeys took me to so many different places and religions and beliefs, but I am a seeker and I will not stop seeking. And happily I find God everywhere i go. I keep the joy I find and move on. Now I am trying to shed grief, expectations and guilt. it is happening, and as long as I am not in too much of a hurry (for I have been impatient), I will continue to grow in peace.
I have 4 cats, though I'm not partial to them, and one dog. I think a lot of my sleep issues may have to do with animals, although only Molly the dog is allowed inside at night (unless it is wickedly storming outside). All 4 of the cats have been adopted and I will see out my responsibilities, and there is the bonus of some mice being culled, but there is also a noticeable lack of birds around my home.
My beautiful grand daughter, Ariadne, lives right next door in the main house with her parents. We bought the 5 acres together and Ariadne's mom, Sarah, loves to build a garden. Me, I'm not much of a gardener, but I contribute in different ways, and I have my own wild and crazy herb garden just outside my own window. It is a rambunctiously overgrown and joyful plot, welcoming to weeds as well as the plants I put in, for I know that "weeds" are not actually weeds, but have their own powerful potency!
We have a pond that is overgrown with some sort of disgusting algae at the moment, but which often resonates with the singing of frogs. It teems with newts as well, so we don't have much of a mosquito problem. We also have 6 happy hens and a parading rooster, Mr Pimpson, who struts and bullies his way around the girls. I checked on them one night and he was snuggled in with the girls around him, like some sort of creepy master of the harem. Didn't look like he was doing much protecting that night. More like being protected, but he is a beauty, so we all indulge him.
I love to sing and I write songs often, flinging them out of my head and off the ends of my fingers whenever I feel the spirit move me. Lately I've been teaming up with other musicians and having fun playing and singing in public. Sometimes it is joyful and other times I feel the stress of trying to perform up to certain standards, rather than just sing my own world, my own voice, my own spirit, but I am learning. I am learning to be myself and not try to fit into other people's agendas. This is not always easy for a "people pleaser".
I have a friend and lover since my husband left, and although I'm not divorced yet, having to wait a year since the time my husband left, I am enjoying all that I am learning with this wonderful man. He is older than me by almost a generation, but is younger than me in his heart and a kind and happy man. We do have fun. Laughter is always present, and silliness and lots of good cooking and always, always, always the reminder to me to "just be Heather". I am grateful for the peace of this place with David, for we have not always been peaceful on our own. It seems we are good for one another, and there is a slow delight growing in this odd relationship. We often look at each other, shake our heads and say WTF.
One of my favorite things to do is wander out in nature, and here on the West Coast it is easy to do most of the year. I am learning to listen to the plants (I used to be afraid of this) and they are teaching me a few things about simply being Heather, about slowing down, about how to eat. I have a lovely little herb shop attached to my living space which can be accessed through a secret door...hee hee...and I dry herbs which I have gathered, and store tinctures and salves on the bare wooden shelves in that space. To be around these plants is a lovely thing, although I'm not much good at houseplants and things I have to take care of. i think I've taken care of too many things for too long. One gets weary at a certain point i suppose.
And so here I am, Heather Ruth Macleod, 51 years old...with two beautiful children, a most wonderful daughter in law and a grandbaby of extreme delight, and I am filled with blessings. I only need to continue to learn to let go of those things which no longer serve me...
June 20, 2014
Peace and the Capacity to Cope
Ah, it has been peaceful on the home front lately. Certainly, there has been the occasional knee jerk reaction at some man who tried to shame me (or so I thought), a chef who was determined there were eggs in some local bread...well, you know...the menopausal hormones occasionally kick in, but all in all I have been happy, peaceful and harmonious with most of the world around me. Great! Check!
The capability of coping with every day life, however, is still a bit of a quandary to me. I am intrigued by this...a bit flummoxed and wondering. WHAT does it take to get your life back on track and be able to cope with every day life. WHAT does it take to be able to get up in the morning and keep the house clean and run a business and keep the extra "curricular" activities all in order? You know, the tidying, laundry, singing, writing, relationships, bills, property, chickens, cats...
I can drink copious cups of tea with the best of them in the morning and have a lovely few glasses of wine in the evenings. Read books, wander through the woods, carry on philosophical conversations, hold the baby...but the OTHER stuff; the business; the meals...I don't cope. Flat busted on life, I guess. I just don't cope.
SO...how can I be so happy and peaceful and full of joy and yet still not be able to find the motivation to do all the things that need doing. I have a small idea. I don't like what I'm doing. Yikes! And here's another thing...the things I "do" will never be the "be all and end all"...and I am here, looking around my beautiful little space with my beautiful, expansive life, and wondering why I can't cope with everyday life?
Does sorrow get into our psyche and render us too useless to get up? I think not. I think there is something far simpler. I need to find out what I love, what I really love, and these things seem to change for me faster than I can even learn them. I do feel, however, that I'm getting closer to that thing that I am meant to do. Maybe not. Maybe. I do know that it is within myself that I will find this strength. I know it has been inside all along...and I am only now learning how to come home to myself.
I made a discovery the other day...I love to learn, I love to share with people what I'm learning...teach...but I'm not a business woman. Never have been. ANY time I try to make money with something I love I lose the lovin'...out the window it flies. I don't know...maybe I'm thinking too hard, and maybe I just need to hand it all over to God and continue to wait and see what will unfold. In the meantime I will keep teaching...cuz I love it! I will keep wild crafting medicinal plants for whoever manages to make their way to my little shoppe. I will use my own herbs for myself, my family, my students and friends. I will keep writing songs, and singing and writing in my blog...I will do dishes at least once every three days, clean my bathroom once a week, sweep the floor the same and maybe remember to wash my sheets once a month...sigh...And I will just keep getting rid of things...sheesh...I love my life and I'm not coping and I'm happy and I'm terribly dis-organized and I'm peaceful and ... oh well...
Here's to figuring it all out...or not...
June 17, 2014
The capability of coping with every day life, however, is still a bit of a quandary to me. I am intrigued by this...a bit flummoxed and wondering. WHAT does it take to get your life back on track and be able to cope with every day life. WHAT does it take to be able to get up in the morning and keep the house clean and run a business and keep the extra "curricular" activities all in order? You know, the tidying, laundry, singing, writing, relationships, bills, property, chickens, cats...
I can drink copious cups of tea with the best of them in the morning and have a lovely few glasses of wine in the evenings. Read books, wander through the woods, carry on philosophical conversations, hold the baby...but the OTHER stuff; the business; the meals...I don't cope. Flat busted on life, I guess. I just don't cope.
SO...how can I be so happy and peaceful and full of joy and yet still not be able to find the motivation to do all the things that need doing. I have a small idea. I don't like what I'm doing. Yikes! And here's another thing...the things I "do" will never be the "be all and end all"...and I am here, looking around my beautiful little space with my beautiful, expansive life, and wondering why I can't cope with everyday life?
Does sorrow get into our psyche and render us too useless to get up? I think not. I think there is something far simpler. I need to find out what I love, what I really love, and these things seem to change for me faster than I can even learn them. I do feel, however, that I'm getting closer to that thing that I am meant to do. Maybe not. Maybe. I do know that it is within myself that I will find this strength. I know it has been inside all along...and I am only now learning how to come home to myself.
I made a discovery the other day...I love to learn, I love to share with people what I'm learning...teach...but I'm not a business woman. Never have been. ANY time I try to make money with something I love I lose the lovin'...out the window it flies. I don't know...maybe I'm thinking too hard, and maybe I just need to hand it all over to God and continue to wait and see what will unfold. In the meantime I will keep teaching...cuz I love it! I will keep wild crafting medicinal plants for whoever manages to make their way to my little shoppe. I will use my own herbs for myself, my family, my students and friends. I will keep writing songs, and singing and writing in my blog...I will do dishes at least once every three days, clean my bathroom once a week, sweep the floor the same and maybe remember to wash my sheets once a month...sigh...And I will just keep getting rid of things...sheesh...I love my life and I'm not coping and I'm happy and I'm terribly dis-organized and I'm peaceful and ... oh well...
Here's to figuring it all out...or not...
June 17, 2014
The Freedom of No Expectation
The cat woke me up this morning in the wee hours. I know better than to leave the cat inside while I'm sleeping, but every now and then I have a moment of compassion. I am here now, sitting at the computer pondering a wonderful thing and I feel as though something in my soul is also waking up; waking up more each day, and it is crazy wonderful! I'm not quite sure how to explain it, but I'll try.
I've been studying Emmet Fox's Sermon on the Mount (an interpretation) with a small group of friends. First one, "Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven". What is "poor in spirit"? Emmet has a lengthy definition, but suffice it to say it is a laying down of all preconceived ideas, beliefs, prejudices, habits to find God's Way. To set aside all of my possessions - even the possessions of supposed respect (how people view me), identity (how I view myself), honour (how I am treated), any thing that stands in the way of this goal.
That's the intro...let me go back now to my relationships. I have had two difficult marriages and a lifetime of loss. In that time there has also been joy, but I had learned to be afraid, and a victim. I also learned what I did NOT want, and began to see myself as growing strong as I asserted myself and my needs. This was good, to a point. Now I have many relationships with many people, but in particular I have a new relationship with a man, and many things have come up which have shown me so clearly who I am. This has been difficult and wonderful, enlightening and maddening, but always pushing me forward, forward, forward.
What came to me this week was quite amazing. He was talking about something he had chosen to do out of respect for me, and I came up with something else that was important to me, how I wanted him to "behave" so that I would maintain the respect of others around me. No laughing now...this was a real conversation and I cringe as I type. As far as I was concerned it was a reasonable request; one born of ... "I won't put up with this sort of behaviour ever again" ... "no man will ever do that to me..." ..."I deserve to be..." As we were talking about this, I had a certain sense of discomfort, but couldn't place my finger on why, until I re-read the above, regarding being "poor in spirit".
About a month back I was struggling desperately with something and I was woken up in the middle of the night with the words, "This is about control and self protection again, Heather. Won't you just learn to trust Me?" I was struck, once again, at my dependence upon others behaviour, others opinion, others respect. Anything outside of myself will never give me peace, joy, self esteem, self worth. It is only in my own self, and Christ-in-me, that I find this wholeness.
I dropped the whole expectation around my friend's behaviour, and once again just let him be (to a collective sigh of relief from both of us). And THEN I got it (well, this round anyway), and it is a beautiful thing to me. We can drop EVERY expectation of EVERYONE around us. We can drop them ALL. This ain't rocket science and yet it may very well be the hardest thing in the whole world. There was a sense of wings and wind and hair-flying-free that came over me as I began to grasp the enormity of this, the freedom, the letting go of it all. I do not need the behaviour of others to define my identity! Others will do what others will do, and Heather will continue to remain Heather, regardless. My essence can never be changed by another person's treatment or opinion of me!
Oh my! The air is fresh here on this mountain of allowing. It is invigorating and cleansing and pure. It is freedom. Onward! Or as Aslan says, "Further up and further in!"
June 12, 2014
I've been studying Emmet Fox's Sermon on the Mount (an interpretation) with a small group of friends. First one, "Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven". What is "poor in spirit"? Emmet has a lengthy definition, but suffice it to say it is a laying down of all preconceived ideas, beliefs, prejudices, habits to find God's Way. To set aside all of my possessions - even the possessions of supposed respect (how people view me), identity (how I view myself), honour (how I am treated), any thing that stands in the way of this goal.
That's the intro...let me go back now to my relationships. I have had two difficult marriages and a lifetime of loss. In that time there has also been joy, but I had learned to be afraid, and a victim. I also learned what I did NOT want, and began to see myself as growing strong as I asserted myself and my needs. This was good, to a point. Now I have many relationships with many people, but in particular I have a new relationship with a man, and many things have come up which have shown me so clearly who I am. This has been difficult and wonderful, enlightening and maddening, but always pushing me forward, forward, forward.
What came to me this week was quite amazing. He was talking about something he had chosen to do out of respect for me, and I came up with something else that was important to me, how I wanted him to "behave" so that I would maintain the respect of others around me. No laughing now...this was a real conversation and I cringe as I type. As far as I was concerned it was a reasonable request; one born of ... "I won't put up with this sort of behaviour ever again" ... "no man will ever do that to me..." ..."I deserve to be..." As we were talking about this, I had a certain sense of discomfort, but couldn't place my finger on why, until I re-read the above, regarding being "poor in spirit".
About a month back I was struggling desperately with something and I was woken up in the middle of the night with the words, "This is about control and self protection again, Heather. Won't you just learn to trust Me?" I was struck, once again, at my dependence upon others behaviour, others opinion, others respect. Anything outside of myself will never give me peace, joy, self esteem, self worth. It is only in my own self, and Christ-in-me, that I find this wholeness.
I dropped the whole expectation around my friend's behaviour, and once again just let him be (to a collective sigh of relief from both of us). And THEN I got it (well, this round anyway), and it is a beautiful thing to me. We can drop EVERY expectation of EVERYONE around us. We can drop them ALL. This ain't rocket science and yet it may very well be the hardest thing in the whole world. There was a sense of wings and wind and hair-flying-free that came over me as I began to grasp the enormity of this, the freedom, the letting go of it all. I do not need the behaviour of others to define my identity! Others will do what others will do, and Heather will continue to remain Heather, regardless. My essence can never be changed by another person's treatment or opinion of me!
Oh my! The air is fresh here on this mountain of allowing. It is invigorating and cleansing and pure. It is freedom. Onward! Or as Aslan says, "Further up and further in!"
June 12, 2014
Love
Love. Love is a crazy thing...how you thought you needed it so badly, and then one day you realize you ARE love, the whole damn width and depth and height of yourself. And that all you ever needed of it is brim full to the top of yourself...and then you see that you have love all around you and it's easy, SO easy to find it. And somehow you know it will always be there, even if the days grow dark, or you lose your way, or you are temporarily out of breath...even if you figure you've screwed up pretty badly...it just all doesn't matter, because LIFE is LOVE and love is all consuming, all forgiving, just waiting for all of us, ALL of us, to grab it by the coat tails and get on board. Love never fails. Love never fails.
June 10, 2014
June 10, 2014
Trust
So often trust is located in another person or organization. We refer to "trusting in someone", banks tack it to their title to encourage confidence in their patrons. When feeling betrayed we say, "I no longer trust them anymore." This way of thinking is outside of ourselves and we are powerless when we see anything outside of ourselves.
To trust is to rest. To trust is to believe in the process that is life and to disbelieve in right and wrong, good and bad. To assume that a perceived betrayal has been "bad" for me is to not allow the learning, growth, change and every other wonderful thing that comes my way through that event. When I trust in life, God, myself...I am better able to trust others, because I know that NOTHING that happens to me actually harms me. I am safe. This is trust.
June 8, 2014
To trust is to rest. To trust is to believe in the process that is life and to disbelieve in right and wrong, good and bad. To assume that a perceived betrayal has been "bad" for me is to not allow the learning, growth, change and every other wonderful thing that comes my way through that event. When I trust in life, God, myself...I am better able to trust others, because I know that NOTHING that happens to me actually harms me. I am safe. This is trust.
June 8, 2014
To Love a Woman; To Love a Man
To Love a Woman
If you want to change the world… Love a woman-really Love her. Find the one who calls to your soul, who doesn’t make sense. Throw away your check list and put your ear to her heart and listen. Hear the names, the prayers, the songs of every living thing - every winged one, every furry and scaled one, every underground and underwater one, every green and flowering one, every not yet born and dying one…Hear their melancholy praises back to the One who gave them life. If you haven’t heard your own name yet, you haven’t listened long enough. If your eyes aren’t filled with tears, if you aren’t bowing at her feet, you haven’t ever grieved having almost lost her. If you want to change the world… love a woman-one woman beyond yourself, beyond desire and reason, beyond your male preferences for youth, beauty and variety and all your superficial concepts of freedom. We have given ourselves so many choices we have forgotten that true liberation comes from standing in the middle of the Soul’s fire and burning through our resistance to Love. -There is only One Goddess. Look into Her eyes and see, really See! if she is the one to bring the axe to your head.. If not, walk away. Right now! Don’t waste time “trying.” Know that your decision has nothing to do with her because ultimately it’s not with who, but 'when' we choose to surrender. If you want to change the world… Love a woman. Love her for life-beyond your fear of death, beyond your fear of being manipulated by the Mother inside your head. Don’t tell her you’re willing to die for her. Say you’re willing to LIVE with her, plant trees with her and watch them grow. Be her hero by telling her how Beautiful she is in her vulnerable Majesty, by helping her to remember every day that she IS Goddess through your adoration and devotion. If you want to change the world… Love a woman in all her faces, through all her seasons and she will Heal you of your schizophrenia- your double-mindedness and half-heartedness which keeps your Spirit and body separate- which keeps you alone and always looking outside your Self for something to make your life worth living. There will always be another woman.. Soon the new shiny one will become the old dull one and you’ll grow restless again, trading in women like cars, trading in the Goddess for the latest object of your desire. Man doesn’t need any more choices. What man needs is Woman, the Way of the Feminine, of Patience and Compassion, non-seeking, non-doing, of breathing in one place and sinking deep intertwining roots strong enough to hold the Earth together while she shakes off the cement and steel from her skin. If you want to change the world… love a woman, just One woman. Love and protect her as if she is the last holy vessel. Love her through her fear of abandonment which she has been holding for all of humanity. No, the wound is not hers to heal alone. No, she is not weak in her codependence. If you want to change the world… Love a woman all the way through until she believes you, until her instincts, her Visions, her Voice, her Art, her Passion, her Wildness have returned to her. Until she is a force of Love -more powerful than all the political media demons who seek to devalue and destroy her. If you want to change the world, lay down your causes, your guns and protest signs. Lay down your inner war, your righteous anger and Love a woman…beyond all of your striving for greatness, beyond your tenacious quest for Enlightenment. The holy grail stands before you if you would only take her in your arms and let go of searching for something beyond this intimacy. What if peace is a dream which can only be re-membered through the heart of Woman? What if a man’s love for Woman, the Way of the Feminine is the key to opening Her heart? If you want to change the world…Love a woman to the depths of your shadow, to the highest reaches of your Being, back to the Garden where you first met her, to the gateway of the Rainbow realm where you walk through together as Light as One, to the point of no return, to the ends and the beginning of a new Earth. ~Lisa Citore |
To Love a Man
If you want to change the world Love a man; really love him Choose the one whose Soul calls to yours clearly who sees you; who is brave enough to be afraid Accept his hand and guide him gently to your hearts blood Where he can feel your warmth upon him and rest there And burn his heavy load in your fires Look into his eyes look deep within and see what lies dormant or awake or shy or expectant there Look into his eyes and see there his fathers and grandfathers and all the wars and madness their Spirits fought in some distant land, some distant time Look upon their pains and struggles and torments and guilt; without judgment And let it all go Feel into his ancestral burden And know that what he seeks is safe refuge in you Let him melt in your steady gaze And know that you need not mirror that rage Because you have a womb, a sweet, deep gateway to wash and renew old wounds If you want to change the world Love a man, really Love him Sit before him, in the full majesty of your woman in the breath of your vulnerability In the play of your child innocence in the depths of your death Flowering invitation, softly yielding, allowing his power as a man To step forward towards you…and swim in the Earth’s womb, in silent knowing, together And when he retreats…because he will…flees in fear to his cave… Gather your grandmothers around you…envelope in their wisdoms Hear their gentle shusshhhed whispers, calm your frightened girls’ heart Urging you to be still…and wait patiently for his return Sit and sing by his door, a song of remembrance, that he may be soothed, once more If you want to change the world, love a man, really love him Do not coax out his little boy With guiles and wiles and seduction and trickery Only to lure him…to a web of destruction To a place of chaos and hatred More terrible than any war fought by his brothers This is not feminine this is revenge This is the poison of the twisted lines Of the abuse of the ages, the rape of our world And this gives no power to woman it reduces her as she cuts off his balls And it kills us all And whether his mother held him or could not Show him the true mother now Hold him and guide him in your grace and your depth Smoldering in the center of the Earth’s core Do not punish him for his wounds that you think don’t meet your needs or criteria Cry for him sweet rivers Bleed it all back home If you want to change the world love a man, really love him Love him enough to be naked and free Love him enough to open your body and soul to the cycle of birth and of death And thank him for the opportunity As you dance together through the raging winds and silent woods Be brave enough to be fragile and let him drink in the soft, heady petals of your being Let him know he can hold you stand up and protect you Fall back into his arms and trust him to catch you Even if you’ve been dropped a thousand times before Teach him how to surrender by surrendering yourself And merge into the sweet nothing, of this worlds’ heart If you want to change the world, love a man, really love him Encourage him, feed him, allow him, hear him, hold him, heal him And you, in turn, will be nourished and supported and protected By strong arms and clear thoughts and focused arrows Because he can, if you let him, be all that you dream ======================== ~Anonymous~ |
Rejection and Response Time
i am intrigued at the immense proportions of my psyche. How can I plumb the depths, or measure the width? It is a universe of unfolding and I am the observer...sometimes with trepidation, sometimes with agony, but increasingly with a joy of awareness, even when what I see is less then pleasant. There are times when I see with incredible clarity, as though through a microscope and other times the viewing is so far off...a telescopic viewing of the Milky Way. I get the idea of complexity, awesome proportion and mystery, but that is all I know.
The issue "du jour" is rejection...sigh...and it's not so much the rejection, as I know where that comes from. It's the darned response time. It's the knee jerk reaction, the tears coming quickly and the shame around the vulnerability. Be strong , Heather. be strong! Don't give a fuck! Chin up. Eyes flash. Jaw set. And all these are cues that I am fragile, so terribly fragile...which is also OK.
I am coming to terms with this brittleness in me; the fear that washes over me, because the longer the light shines on this fear the smaller it is becoming. It is in a context of love for myself that I am slowly uncurling myself from around the placenta of rejection and waiting to be reborn into the hot light of day. There is a great courage that occurs every time we truly decide to take full and complete responsibility for ALL of our life, ALL of our issues, ALL of our pain. The realization that I created the drama in my life, that I continue to allow drama in my life is one of eye clearing and nose-blowing resilience.
At the moment I'm not really sure how long it will take me to get over my fear of rejection. It is an old wound that needs a lot of care. It is a very old wound, one a little girl carried far too long. I think it is also a corporate wound which most of the world has taken on. I am not alone in this. It is also not a wound I feel every day...it is getting smaller. I do realize, however, in this journey, that there IS no quick fix. Life must be met with courage and determination daily and a happy "choosing" of all that comes our way.
The issue "du jour" is rejection...sigh...and it's not so much the rejection, as I know where that comes from. It's the darned response time. It's the knee jerk reaction, the tears coming quickly and the shame around the vulnerability. Be strong , Heather. be strong! Don't give a fuck! Chin up. Eyes flash. Jaw set. And all these are cues that I am fragile, so terribly fragile...which is also OK.
I am coming to terms with this brittleness in me; the fear that washes over me, because the longer the light shines on this fear the smaller it is becoming. It is in a context of love for myself that I am slowly uncurling myself from around the placenta of rejection and waiting to be reborn into the hot light of day. There is a great courage that occurs every time we truly decide to take full and complete responsibility for ALL of our life, ALL of our issues, ALL of our pain. The realization that I created the drama in my life, that I continue to allow drama in my life is one of eye clearing and nose-blowing resilience.
At the moment I'm not really sure how long it will take me to get over my fear of rejection. It is an old wound that needs a lot of care. It is a very old wound, one a little girl carried far too long. I think it is also a corporate wound which most of the world has taken on. I am not alone in this. It is also not a wound I feel every day...it is getting smaller. I do realize, however, in this journey, that there IS no quick fix. Life must be met with courage and determination daily and a happy "choosing" of all that comes our way.
Pain Body
What a great description...pain body.... I have discovered a wonderful thing of late, and it is my "pain body", or "loneliness in the body", I had an experience, almost a month ago now. It was set off by many things, but the final catalyst was a simple discussion with my lover/friend. I had this feeling he was pulling away from me, and after he left there it was again...the gut clawing sadness, the scab ripped from the wound, the pustule of pain oozing again (gross, eh?). Because I am becoming more aware, I noticed the huge chasm which had been created by a fairly innocent conversation, and decided to take a good look at what was going on in ME that would create so much pain around a "feeling" I was experiencing, which in fact was completely made up in my own head.
Now in the past, before I started to take a good look at the suppressed fear and control that only others could see, I would have quite self-righteously pointed out to others that this is simply the "hole that only God can fill". Hmmm...50 years of thinking it was filled, and filling and filling and filling it with food, relationships, serving others, religion...There it was again, full blown, in my face, gut clawing pain. I decided to just sit with it quietly and meditate for awhile. Meditation to me is simply sitting quietly, letting my thoughts parade through my head, and observing those thoughts. I opened my eyes after awhile, looked down, and noticed a well rounded tummy...I had been feeding the empty space with physical food all day, and the first thing I realized was that trying to feed this "thing" was as useless as trying to feed a burger to a ghost. Good...I was on to something. The other thing I realized was that this feeling was not BECAUSE someone appeared to be drawing away from me, but that when the distraction created by the relationship was perceived to be gone the "pain body" was simply more noticeable! Oh My Goodness. You mean I didn't have to try to fill this space with a relationship? You mean it has been there all along? Gracious!
I then did a bit of research, starting with Rupert Spira, and watched a video on "Loneliness in the Body"...good start, but it was Tolle that really resonated with me, and Tolle has never resonated with me...I don't like his laugh...I know...pretty shallow of me. He spoke about the pain body as an animate thing/personality, and the need for each one of us to acknowledge it, talk to it, yet not go along with "its" agenda.
OK...I thought....Here goes. For the next week, every time I felt that clawing, painful feeling in my gut I would be kind to myself..."I hear you. I see you. what's going on, Heather?" I would acknowledge the feeling but refuse to participate. Some days I would walk for 4 hours to cope with what I was feeling, but within a week it was dissolving.
There have been moments when I feel myself descending into a place of depression and weeping. When I notice what's going on, I quickly say, "Hey, wait a minute. I know what this is!" And I shift. I acknowledge the pain, I refuse to participate, and I move on...amazing, fucking amazing! I woke once, in the middle of the night. It was my weeping that woke me...again...for a moment...I wanted to succumb to the sadness, and then I remembered...I acknowledged, but I refused to participate...peace and sleep.
I am amazed at the things I did not know. I am amazed at the tools which can help me. I am amazed at this journey I am on. I am amazed at the peace in my life.
I was thinking the other day (yesterday actually) that I should go "off by myself on some sort of vision quest!" Then I stopped and laughed at myself. "Sure, Heather, you're just missing all the drama, it's been so darn peaceful in your head lately, you think you need to create some. Why don't you just enjoy the peace." 'Nuff said. I will enjoy the peace. I will enjoy the quiet. I will enjoy the joy. I will enjoy my lover.
May 31, 2014
Now in the past, before I started to take a good look at the suppressed fear and control that only others could see, I would have quite self-righteously pointed out to others that this is simply the "hole that only God can fill". Hmmm...50 years of thinking it was filled, and filling and filling and filling it with food, relationships, serving others, religion...There it was again, full blown, in my face, gut clawing pain. I decided to just sit with it quietly and meditate for awhile. Meditation to me is simply sitting quietly, letting my thoughts parade through my head, and observing those thoughts. I opened my eyes after awhile, looked down, and noticed a well rounded tummy...I had been feeding the empty space with physical food all day, and the first thing I realized was that trying to feed this "thing" was as useless as trying to feed a burger to a ghost. Good...I was on to something. The other thing I realized was that this feeling was not BECAUSE someone appeared to be drawing away from me, but that when the distraction created by the relationship was perceived to be gone the "pain body" was simply more noticeable! Oh My Goodness. You mean I didn't have to try to fill this space with a relationship? You mean it has been there all along? Gracious!
I then did a bit of research, starting with Rupert Spira, and watched a video on "Loneliness in the Body"...good start, but it was Tolle that really resonated with me, and Tolle has never resonated with me...I don't like his laugh...I know...pretty shallow of me. He spoke about the pain body as an animate thing/personality, and the need for each one of us to acknowledge it, talk to it, yet not go along with "its" agenda.
OK...I thought....Here goes. For the next week, every time I felt that clawing, painful feeling in my gut I would be kind to myself..."I hear you. I see you. what's going on, Heather?" I would acknowledge the feeling but refuse to participate. Some days I would walk for 4 hours to cope with what I was feeling, but within a week it was dissolving.
There have been moments when I feel myself descending into a place of depression and weeping. When I notice what's going on, I quickly say, "Hey, wait a minute. I know what this is!" And I shift. I acknowledge the pain, I refuse to participate, and I move on...amazing, fucking amazing! I woke once, in the middle of the night. It was my weeping that woke me...again...for a moment...I wanted to succumb to the sadness, and then I remembered...I acknowledged, but I refused to participate...peace and sleep.
I am amazed at the things I did not know. I am amazed at the tools which can help me. I am amazed at this journey I am on. I am amazed at the peace in my life.
I was thinking the other day (yesterday actually) that I should go "off by myself on some sort of vision quest!" Then I stopped and laughed at myself. "Sure, Heather, you're just missing all the drama, it's been so darn peaceful in your head lately, you think you need to create some. Why don't you just enjoy the peace." 'Nuff said. I will enjoy the peace. I will enjoy the quiet. I will enjoy the joy. I will enjoy my lover.
May 31, 2014
Mice and Sadness in the Walls
As anyone who follows my blog knows, I had a sad fall and winter...week followed week and I lost heart for my Herbe Shoppe, lost heart for my business and was just grateful to have my "fill-in" job to try to keep my nose above water.
When the spring came, renewed hope and love and lots of learning to love myself brightened my days and I was able to take on a full class, start to wander through the forests again and have enjoyed wildcrafting immensely...but...the Herbe Shoppe...
I have not been able to bring myself to really spend time in there, and so it has been a sad and empty place for almost 9 months now.
Well, it's almost Summer and people are asking about it, about my business, and let's face it...I've got to figure out how to make a living on my own... so, encouraged by friends and students I forayed into the dust, cobwebs and mouse poop of almost a year of neglect. Still so hard...
One friend said, "It's not the herbs, you can clear the energy out of here." Another offered to cleanse it. Another brought the sound of tuning forks, which gave me some amazing nights sleeps, but still didn't clear the gloom. I prayed, spoke words of affirmation and still not much help...and besides, it stank like something dead...I knew I needed to clean, but Oh, I just didn't want to be in there.
I was thinking about sadness...how it gets in us...how it sticks. Sadness leaves its residue of disappointments and failures. Sadness carries a certain gloom and loss of innocence, and my Herbe Shoppe was sad...I had been sad for too long and it was sticking.
Interestingly David's final experiment of playing classical music non stop in there finally appeared to do the trick...a couple of my friends/students had also forced the issue and taking cloths and cleaners in hand had begun the process of cleaning...I am surrounded by loving for sure...
So today...finally...I started to deep clean....and OH THE DEAD THINGS I FOUND!
Firstly I began to clear the jars and bottles out of the sink, to bring them into the main house and give them all a good wash and bleach. As I lifted one particularly sludgy looking jar from the sink I put it back down quickly and shrank back in horror (what drama!)...two bloated mice floated in the brown murky water...shudder...Finally I had found the origin of the stench! Then drawers were pulled, emptied, swept, wiped, another dead mouse, dessicated, was swept out from under a drawer...bleach was applied liberally...peppermint essential oil was also applied liberally...and the Herbe Shoppe is beginning to brighten.
We are party to death so many times in our lives; our dreams die, our loved ones die; love dies, hopes die, motivation fails us and we wander aimless for awhile until we are strengthened from within; strengthened with love from others and that always present fortitude that seems to gasp its way up to the surface again.
And yet death is so necessary, because we do not cleanse ourselves without death. We do not drag out the dark and rotten until it has run its course and finished its purpose in our lives...then we drag it, stinking, from our walls and cupboards and hearts.
Each time I die I am reborn. It is a law of nature. Unless a seed dies and is buried...
When the spring came, renewed hope and love and lots of learning to love myself brightened my days and I was able to take on a full class, start to wander through the forests again and have enjoyed wildcrafting immensely...but...the Herbe Shoppe...
I have not been able to bring myself to really spend time in there, and so it has been a sad and empty place for almost 9 months now.
Well, it's almost Summer and people are asking about it, about my business, and let's face it...I've got to figure out how to make a living on my own... so, encouraged by friends and students I forayed into the dust, cobwebs and mouse poop of almost a year of neglect. Still so hard...
One friend said, "It's not the herbs, you can clear the energy out of here." Another offered to cleanse it. Another brought the sound of tuning forks, which gave me some amazing nights sleeps, but still didn't clear the gloom. I prayed, spoke words of affirmation and still not much help...and besides, it stank like something dead...I knew I needed to clean, but Oh, I just didn't want to be in there.
I was thinking about sadness...how it gets in us...how it sticks. Sadness leaves its residue of disappointments and failures. Sadness carries a certain gloom and loss of innocence, and my Herbe Shoppe was sad...I had been sad for too long and it was sticking.
Interestingly David's final experiment of playing classical music non stop in there finally appeared to do the trick...a couple of my friends/students had also forced the issue and taking cloths and cleaners in hand had begun the process of cleaning...I am surrounded by loving for sure...
So today...finally...I started to deep clean....and OH THE DEAD THINGS I FOUND!
Firstly I began to clear the jars and bottles out of the sink, to bring them into the main house and give them all a good wash and bleach. As I lifted one particularly sludgy looking jar from the sink I put it back down quickly and shrank back in horror (what drama!)...two bloated mice floated in the brown murky water...shudder...Finally I had found the origin of the stench! Then drawers were pulled, emptied, swept, wiped, another dead mouse, dessicated, was swept out from under a drawer...bleach was applied liberally...peppermint essential oil was also applied liberally...and the Herbe Shoppe is beginning to brighten.
We are party to death so many times in our lives; our dreams die, our loved ones die; love dies, hopes die, motivation fails us and we wander aimless for awhile until we are strengthened from within; strengthened with love from others and that always present fortitude that seems to gasp its way up to the surface again.
And yet death is so necessary, because we do not cleanse ourselves without death. We do not drag out the dark and rotten until it has run its course and finished its purpose in our lives...then we drag it, stinking, from our walls and cupboards and hearts.
Each time I die I am reborn. It is a law of nature. Unless a seed dies and is buried...
Come
Come, come my friends
and leave fear behind you for laughter is upon us and the joyful voice is heard There is loud singing in the rafters and the roof has lifted to wide spaces bright spaces where arms can stretch and fingers reach the clouds Come, come my sisters let down your hair and shake loose the body the tight body the restrained body |
Let fire and light enter
and let more laughter fill the places where burning eyes have poured their judgment Come, come my brothers you are no enemy but human - imperfectly perfect as we Strong shoulders, bold chest and longing heart you have feared us and been fearful we will soften this rage in our dance of love Heather Macleod - copyright May 26, 2014 |
An Ascetic Mind
I am often drawn toward asceticism...an interesting lure, as I am rather a hedonist...loving pleasurable things...but it is primarily the sensations I love, not necessarily possessions, unless they be clothing.
Lately I continue to feel the need to unload "stuff" from my life...to unload busyness...unload the extraneous. As I am so often literal, I notice the unloading tends to take a literal or materialistic bent and I think I need to quit jobs, sell or give away all (or most) of my material goods and learn to walk around the island. I can tend to be quite dramatic about these "callings".
After my last post about the Sunny Spring Day Heather Decided to Jump...I wondered about this. What does it truly mean for me to "jump"? Is it quitting my job, living in a trailer, or under a bridge, or in the forest in a tent? Is it really having nothing extraneous that I own, just one pot, one bowl and spoon and hopefully a lighter? What, what, WHAT does it mean for me to free myself of the extras? It occurred to me as I pondered, that it is the kingdom of my mind that is so often cluttered with unnecessary baggage. It is in the rooms of my psyche where thoughts are thrown higgledy piggledy across the room that I should give my attention, for I could rid myself of all "things" and still have an excess of possessions in my heart.
Oh to have an ascetic mind, where the hallways of my inner world are swept clean of the litter of years...old memories, and habits, old flagellations and reasonings. How lovely to throw open the windows to the light clean air of a fresh spring morning! And I have begun! I have thrown out proverbial garbage bags full, raked up leaves, burned piles of rotting debris, and still there are dust bunnies, cobwebs and old furniture. The room is clearing though. The ceiling is higher and the light is pouring in. Some days it is still dark, the skylights sooty with old fires, but most days the sunlight of peace is shining strong across the floor.
I would be a collector of only fine thoughts and empty rooms....rooms so empty there is just that more space that can be filled with the sweet presence of this God who is laughing; this God who sings in me, and all the lovely, necessary things one can fill a freshly cleaned room with...
Be
still
and know that
I
AM
God...
May 25, 2014
(free stock photo)
Lately I continue to feel the need to unload "stuff" from my life...to unload busyness...unload the extraneous. As I am so often literal, I notice the unloading tends to take a literal or materialistic bent and I think I need to quit jobs, sell or give away all (or most) of my material goods and learn to walk around the island. I can tend to be quite dramatic about these "callings".
After my last post about the Sunny Spring Day Heather Decided to Jump...I wondered about this. What does it truly mean for me to "jump"? Is it quitting my job, living in a trailer, or under a bridge, or in the forest in a tent? Is it really having nothing extraneous that I own, just one pot, one bowl and spoon and hopefully a lighter? What, what, WHAT does it mean for me to free myself of the extras? It occurred to me as I pondered, that it is the kingdom of my mind that is so often cluttered with unnecessary baggage. It is in the rooms of my psyche where thoughts are thrown higgledy piggledy across the room that I should give my attention, for I could rid myself of all "things" and still have an excess of possessions in my heart.
Oh to have an ascetic mind, where the hallways of my inner world are swept clean of the litter of years...old memories, and habits, old flagellations and reasonings. How lovely to throw open the windows to the light clean air of a fresh spring morning! And I have begun! I have thrown out proverbial garbage bags full, raked up leaves, burned piles of rotting debris, and still there are dust bunnies, cobwebs and old furniture. The room is clearing though. The ceiling is higher and the light is pouring in. Some days it is still dark, the skylights sooty with old fires, but most days the sunlight of peace is shining strong across the floor.
I would be a collector of only fine thoughts and empty rooms....rooms so empty there is just that more space that can be filled with the sweet presence of this God who is laughing; this God who sings in me, and all the lovely, necessary things one can fill a freshly cleaned room with...
Be
still
and know that
I
AM
God...
May 25, 2014
(free stock photo)
What is Love?
I've been reading...again...and of course I have some thoughts...just my thoughts...
According to not a few authors, love is one of the essential ingredients for life. Human beings need air, food and love to be able to exist. This explains the incessant searching and demand for love, which so many times appears to be elusive. We grab, shove, fill our minds, hearts, emotions, bodies with the "stuff" of love, but is it really love?
I just heard a line to a song on the radio, and of course it got me thinking..."When you turn out the lights I get stars in my eyes. Could this be love?" When we are young, the hormones coursing through our bodies, so new, so sweet, so full of pleasure, can only be described as one thing...LOVE! It "feels" so amazing, so overwhelming - dang hormones - then age and experience become our companions and we begin to understand that passion, fire and sexual delight (as lovely as they are,) are not love.
We form marital bonds, the "ties that bind", commitments that suit our needs and we think this is love, and in some cases it may be, but a desire to fine tune the partner, make them fit our mold, support our desires, dance to our song, is not love and the increasing number of divorces attest to this.
As parents we love our children; or do we? Do we have an agenda for them? Do we map out their future and have expectations for behaviour and personality that does not take into consideration the child's identity and uniqueness?
Again I ask, "What is love?" "Greater love has no man/woman than this, that they lay down their life for a friend." is an ancient (paraphrased) quote from Jesus. We're not often asked to die for someone in our culture, so what could this mean to me in the context of loving? Could it mean I lay down my expectations of what a person should look like, act like, believe and live like? Could it be that love means I simply allow someone else to be whoever they uniquely are, in whatever part of their journey they are on, and embrace that individuality without judgment?
I am learning what love is not. Love is not needing. Love is not passion. Love is not possessing. Love is not affirmation, not personal ego stroking, not promises of commitment, not rings and things, not warm snuggles. Love is acceptance of the other, acknowledgement of their "being-ness", allowing the other to be completely themselves without judgment, without expectation.
And love is also allowing yourself to decide whether or not that works for you. Love is being big enough to take care of yourself without blame without guilt, without making the other wrong. Simple and complex, but mostly simple when I truly begin to understand. ALLOWING - this is love I think.
May 25, 2014
According to not a few authors, love is one of the essential ingredients for life. Human beings need air, food and love to be able to exist. This explains the incessant searching and demand for love, which so many times appears to be elusive. We grab, shove, fill our minds, hearts, emotions, bodies with the "stuff" of love, but is it really love?
I just heard a line to a song on the radio, and of course it got me thinking..."When you turn out the lights I get stars in my eyes. Could this be love?" When we are young, the hormones coursing through our bodies, so new, so sweet, so full of pleasure, can only be described as one thing...LOVE! It "feels" so amazing, so overwhelming - dang hormones - then age and experience become our companions and we begin to understand that passion, fire and sexual delight (as lovely as they are,) are not love.
We form marital bonds, the "ties that bind", commitments that suit our needs and we think this is love, and in some cases it may be, but a desire to fine tune the partner, make them fit our mold, support our desires, dance to our song, is not love and the increasing number of divorces attest to this.
As parents we love our children; or do we? Do we have an agenda for them? Do we map out their future and have expectations for behaviour and personality that does not take into consideration the child's identity and uniqueness?
Again I ask, "What is love?" "Greater love has no man/woman than this, that they lay down their life for a friend." is an ancient (paraphrased) quote from Jesus. We're not often asked to die for someone in our culture, so what could this mean to me in the context of loving? Could it mean I lay down my expectations of what a person should look like, act like, believe and live like? Could it be that love means I simply allow someone else to be whoever they uniquely are, in whatever part of their journey they are on, and embrace that individuality without judgment?
I am learning what love is not. Love is not needing. Love is not passion. Love is not possessing. Love is not affirmation, not personal ego stroking, not promises of commitment, not rings and things, not warm snuggles. Love is acceptance of the other, acknowledgement of their "being-ness", allowing the other to be completely themselves without judgment, without expectation.
And love is also allowing yourself to decide whether or not that works for you. Love is being big enough to take care of yourself without blame without guilt, without making the other wrong. Simple and complex, but mostly simple when I truly begin to understand. ALLOWING - this is love I think.
May 25, 2014
The Sunny Spring Afternoon When Heather Jumped...
Sunny Spring afternoon and I'm longing for something...tears are visiting...Maybe it's because it's all so beautiful here by the sea and I know life should be this simple. How wonderful if I could always just "be". And yet I hardly dare to wish it; to think the possibility is there... to let others strive and run and work and get. I would love to BE.
Jesus had something when He said to consider the lilies of the fields, the birds of the air. I think I am grieving for something, but like the proverbial rich young ruler I'm perhaps not willing to sell all for the Pearl of Great Price. ( I know, I'm talking in riddles to those of you who haven't read the parables of Jesus.) I KNOW that beyond this belief is the miraculous. I can TASTE it. Oh, I can taste it!
All my life I've wondered about this Pearl, the selling everything to purchase it, the surrendering to the moment, to God, to peace! Fear will take back stage when I finally, truly lose everything and find that I have won the whole world and best of all found my own true soul.
I woke this morning to the song "It's So Heavy"..."It's so heavy, I've got to let a little go...I thought we were past the lies...We look through painted mirrors..."
And one day she just decided to try because, what the heck, what was the worst that could happen? Maybe she'd get skinny from not enough food and too much work in the garden and walking instead of driving.
Sure, she could always wait till the time is right, but it never is. That's the lie of life. There is always one more thing she will need, one more job to finish, one more person to accommodate before LIFE happens.
Maybe...if she takes the leap, she'll remember this afternoon for the rest of her life. It is a surreal day...a magic day, full of music and wind and the call of God...
"Come on, come ON, Heather! Do what you love. Stop wasting your time on days and hours and moments that are not made for you. You have a message and a voice. You have things you love, people to love. You have a world of love that surrounds you, supports you, feeds you, holds you! You will weep for the rest of your life if you don't leap now. Jump! Jump! Jump! Trust in the Process. Trust in the Journey. Trust!"
May 21, 2014
Jesus had something when He said to consider the lilies of the fields, the birds of the air. I think I am grieving for something, but like the proverbial rich young ruler I'm perhaps not willing to sell all for the Pearl of Great Price. ( I know, I'm talking in riddles to those of you who haven't read the parables of Jesus.) I KNOW that beyond this belief is the miraculous. I can TASTE it. Oh, I can taste it!
All my life I've wondered about this Pearl, the selling everything to purchase it, the surrendering to the moment, to God, to peace! Fear will take back stage when I finally, truly lose everything and find that I have won the whole world and best of all found my own true soul.
I woke this morning to the song "It's So Heavy"..."It's so heavy, I've got to let a little go...I thought we were past the lies...We look through painted mirrors..."
And one day she just decided to try because, what the heck, what was the worst that could happen? Maybe she'd get skinny from not enough food and too much work in the garden and walking instead of driving.
Sure, she could always wait till the time is right, but it never is. That's the lie of life. There is always one more thing she will need, one more job to finish, one more person to accommodate before LIFE happens.
Maybe...if she takes the leap, she'll remember this afternoon for the rest of her life. It is a surreal day...a magic day, full of music and wind and the call of God...
"Come on, come ON, Heather! Do what you love. Stop wasting your time on days and hours and moments that are not made for you. You have a message and a voice. You have things you love, people to love. You have a world of love that surrounds you, supports you, feeds you, holds you! You will weep for the rest of your life if you don't leap now. Jump! Jump! Jump! Trust in the Process. Trust in the Journey. Trust!"
May 21, 2014
Definitions and Senses...
Definition...the description of what something or someone is, what it means, how it behaves...a definite expectation of behaviour and quality of being...<or something like that.>
I was thinking about how we define one another...by sex, age, race, beauty, behaviour, chosen career, body, family, possessions....we are constantly using our sight to gather information, pass it through our own personal filters and decide how to "see" others based on these tools of perception we have. We seldom question our own perception and ability to define another, and we keep these definitions of others for years. There is often no questioning, listening with the heart and ears, watching, observing, loving...to see if perhaps our perceptions are clouded, if maybe there has been change over the years, or if that person is perhaps not the person I had perceived in the first place at all!
We are given 5 physical senses...sight, hearing, touching, taste and smell. We are also given spiritual senses...intuition, "eyes of understanding", feeling compassion, listening deeply...and more. How wonderful if we could begin to live with these spiritual senses more often and drop the easy judgments of our physical senses. Today I will continue to endeavour to "see" others with eyes of love and non-judgment...see God in ALL people, regardless of how I may perceive them on the physical plane, no matter how much I may feel "hurt" by their perception of me (which could also just be a story I have made up). I want to drop my definitions of others, the defining and boundaries, the expectations and judgments. These are crippling and non-allowing. These bring conflict, not peace.
Why am I writing this? Yesterday someone refused to look at me or acknowledge my presence. Someone who has let me know they are unhappy with me. Then the table where this person sat in the restaurant all started looking my way and laughing. WHOA! time for some good stories to create themselves in my brain. How easy it is to allow these situations to color our peace. Truly, this person's judgment of whether they like me or not is completely acceptable. It is their life. And most likely the laughter had nothing to do with me, it was probably coincidence. Obviously I have dwelt on it...obviously it has troubled me, but also I recognize my own penchant for making up stories around others behaviours. I recognize my own ability to judge those who I think are judging me...and the vicious cycle could continue...but it won't. It stops here. I write...I process...and I let it go...and guess what? Y'all get to read about it! <big grin>
Spiritual senses include the fine art of allowing...Today I will allow...not only to let down my definitions of other people and their actions, but my own expectations of self and how I should behave. Today I will allow peace and observing and gentleness.
I was thinking about how we define one another...by sex, age, race, beauty, behaviour, chosen career, body, family, possessions....we are constantly using our sight to gather information, pass it through our own personal filters and decide how to "see" others based on these tools of perception we have. We seldom question our own perception and ability to define another, and we keep these definitions of others for years. There is often no questioning, listening with the heart and ears, watching, observing, loving...to see if perhaps our perceptions are clouded, if maybe there has been change over the years, or if that person is perhaps not the person I had perceived in the first place at all!
We are given 5 physical senses...sight, hearing, touching, taste and smell. We are also given spiritual senses...intuition, "eyes of understanding", feeling compassion, listening deeply...and more. How wonderful if we could begin to live with these spiritual senses more often and drop the easy judgments of our physical senses. Today I will continue to endeavour to "see" others with eyes of love and non-judgment...see God in ALL people, regardless of how I may perceive them on the physical plane, no matter how much I may feel "hurt" by their perception of me (which could also just be a story I have made up). I want to drop my definitions of others, the defining and boundaries, the expectations and judgments. These are crippling and non-allowing. These bring conflict, not peace.
Why am I writing this? Yesterday someone refused to look at me or acknowledge my presence. Someone who has let me know they are unhappy with me. Then the table where this person sat in the restaurant all started looking my way and laughing. WHOA! time for some good stories to create themselves in my brain. How easy it is to allow these situations to color our peace. Truly, this person's judgment of whether they like me or not is completely acceptable. It is their life. And most likely the laughter had nothing to do with me, it was probably coincidence. Obviously I have dwelt on it...obviously it has troubled me, but also I recognize my own penchant for making up stories around others behaviours. I recognize my own ability to judge those who I think are judging me...and the vicious cycle could continue...but it won't. It stops here. I write...I process...and I let it go...and guess what? Y'all get to read about it! <big grin>
Spiritual senses include the fine art of allowing...Today I will allow...not only to let down my definitions of other people and their actions, but my own expectations of self and how I should behave. Today I will allow peace and observing and gentleness.
My Bed
My bed is a four poster
dark wood
most elegantly made
with curved headboard and fluted tops
Made with love and used with love
soft downy comforter
crisp sheets
snoring dog
and me
We are happy, she and I
cozy here in spacious bed
with nettle, sage and arnica
drying on the rails
This bed is unfinished
missing drawers beneath
This bothered me
long ago
but now I see that all of life is unfinished
yet beauty
comfort
companionship
and rest
are all present
regardless of unfinished things
My bed is a four poster
dark wood
most elegantly made
with curved headboard and fluted tops
Heather Macleod - Copyright May16, 2014
dark wood
most elegantly made
with curved headboard and fluted tops
Made with love and used with love
soft downy comforter
crisp sheets
snoring dog
and me
We are happy, she and I
cozy here in spacious bed
with nettle, sage and arnica
drying on the rails
This bed is unfinished
missing drawers beneath
This bothered me
long ago
but now I see that all of life is unfinished
yet beauty
comfort
companionship
and rest
are all present
regardless of unfinished things
My bed is a four poster
dark wood
most elegantly made
with curved headboard and fluted tops
Heather Macleod - Copyright May16, 2014
When Fear Is Gone
When fear is gone the heart rests
and nights are soft
and sleep unbroken
The wooden floor under my feet
has a magic to it I didn't notice before
that brings delight
the towel is rough-soft on my skin
when I step from the shower-shivering
and happy
and wondering at this thing
this palpable freedom
that has moved in with me
I suppose the vigilance of protection
has let down its brain patrol
brain control
and there is room for small wonders
I have always known delight
but most times it has been a desperate gratitude
a determined thankfulness
seasoned lightly with true unveilings
Now all seems open, punctured, leaking, oozing...
I have lost and I have won
and it is wondrous-peaceful...
Heather Macleod - Copyright May2014
and nights are soft
and sleep unbroken
The wooden floor under my feet
has a magic to it I didn't notice before
that brings delight
the towel is rough-soft on my skin
when I step from the shower-shivering
and happy
and wondering at this thing
this palpable freedom
that has moved in with me
I suppose the vigilance of protection
has let down its brain patrol
brain control
and there is room for small wonders
I have always known delight
but most times it has been a desperate gratitude
a determined thankfulness
seasoned lightly with true unveilings
Now all seems open, punctured, leaking, oozing...
I have lost and I have won
and it is wondrous-peaceful...
Heather Macleod - Copyright May2014
The Idea of Transparency
I am transparent. I am an open book. My mother used to say, "Heather, you don't have to tell everyone everything about yourself." Or, "What you're thinking is written all over your face." Hmmm..."They" say if you'll tell people your weight you'll tell them anything. I tell people my weight. You see how it is.
I often wondered why I do this, but it is coming to me as I age. I have often felt the suffering of those around me. In fact, so much so that I have had to learn to numb myself to it, or it overwhelms me. There are many who feel this way. I'm not alone. I realize that in sharing my journey and experiences, I am letting others know THEY are NOT alone. I am letting them know I am there as well.
I was chatting with a gentleman the other day. It was a sunny day, I had too much coffee, went to get yet ANOTHER coffee and sat at a table outside of Harvest Thyme coffee shop here on Gabriola. I started chatting up an older gentleman...too much caffeine...and he joined me at the table and we started to discuss life.
In the course of our conversation he mentioned that he had always perceived me as a very confident and capable individual. This isn't the first time I've heard this. I laughed and said I had recently almost checked myself into the psyche ward and had spent a few hours shaking, weeping and cowering in a corner...well, you know...we creative types. This was hard for him to comprehend. It is hard for me to comprehend, but it is very important that our community, my friends, my acquaintances begin to truly understand that none of us is alone in our pain. We are not cut off from the rest of humanity, somehow different then all the other "together" "confident" and "with it" people whom we come in contact with every day. They cower, they weep, they shake, they hide their pain, they think they are alone as well.
Come out, come out, wherever you are! We are a society full of the joy of "coming out". Our gender issues are being resolved, racism is becoming less, special needs and so called disabilities are being approached in different ways of seeing, but what about the collective pain and loneliness of all humanity? What about this thing that we all think we carry alone? Ha! I defy it. I have joy. I have sorrow. I live ecstatically. I live in deep despair. There are days when I wonder if I will ever smile again, and then there are the days when I wonder why I haven't always been smiling, because life is so good. Not a one of us escapes the reality that is life.
I have always been transparent, and I will continue to be so. I will put up with the gentle snickers of those who wonder why I'm always trying to figure out life... why I change my ideas and thoughts so often...why I emote and struggle and wonder... It's OK. I just really want other people to know it's going to be OK.
May 8, 2014
I often wondered why I do this, but it is coming to me as I age. I have often felt the suffering of those around me. In fact, so much so that I have had to learn to numb myself to it, or it overwhelms me. There are many who feel this way. I'm not alone. I realize that in sharing my journey and experiences, I am letting others know THEY are NOT alone. I am letting them know I am there as well.
I was chatting with a gentleman the other day. It was a sunny day, I had too much coffee, went to get yet ANOTHER coffee and sat at a table outside of Harvest Thyme coffee shop here on Gabriola. I started chatting up an older gentleman...too much caffeine...and he joined me at the table and we started to discuss life.
In the course of our conversation he mentioned that he had always perceived me as a very confident and capable individual. This isn't the first time I've heard this. I laughed and said I had recently almost checked myself into the psyche ward and had spent a few hours shaking, weeping and cowering in a corner...well, you know...we creative types. This was hard for him to comprehend. It is hard for me to comprehend, but it is very important that our community, my friends, my acquaintances begin to truly understand that none of us is alone in our pain. We are not cut off from the rest of humanity, somehow different then all the other "together" "confident" and "with it" people whom we come in contact with every day. They cower, they weep, they shake, they hide their pain, they think they are alone as well.
Come out, come out, wherever you are! We are a society full of the joy of "coming out". Our gender issues are being resolved, racism is becoming less, special needs and so called disabilities are being approached in different ways of seeing, but what about the collective pain and loneliness of all humanity? What about this thing that we all think we carry alone? Ha! I defy it. I have joy. I have sorrow. I live ecstatically. I live in deep despair. There are days when I wonder if I will ever smile again, and then there are the days when I wonder why I haven't always been smiling, because life is so good. Not a one of us escapes the reality that is life.
I have always been transparent, and I will continue to be so. I will put up with the gentle snickers of those who wonder why I'm always trying to figure out life... why I change my ideas and thoughts so often...why I emote and struggle and wonder... It's OK. I just really want other people to know it's going to be OK.
May 8, 2014
Am I a Christian?
Thich nhat hanh, Vietnamese Buddhist monk and non-violent protestor of the Vietnam war, who was exiled for almost 40 years from his country, teaches that suffering and happiness must exist together. You cannot have one without the other. The lotus needs the mud to grow. I often think of what I call the "sweet brightness" of grief. There is an underlying joy that is brought on by my exploration of grief. Without the exploration of what makes me sad, I would not have my profound experiences of joy, or what I call "God singing in me".
The experiences of so many griefs over the years, and my inability to cope with the sadness, led me to a place of finally proclaiming, "I am so tired of always coming back to this deep sadness!" Aha! I warn you. As David Whyte points out, once you declare the nature of your imprisonment, you WILL begin your journey home and it MAY not be pretty. But it will be amazing! And so it has been.
Due to my journey over the past 8 months, I seriously cannot think to call myself a Christian anymore. I have a growing realization that the rules and teachings I followed for so long (emphasis here is on the "I", for I cannot say how any of my other Christian brothers and sisters have followed Christ) have a deeply distorted view of God, if God is truly the Expression of Love...and yet my experiences of God/Christ have only grown more profound and deeper in nature. I am, however, not Christ like, gracious, I am far too judgmental...but I'm on my way. The experiencing of these teachings has brought about some profound changes in my life and I am finding it is only the experience of God that matters to me anymore.
Judge not, lest you be judged...one of Christ's teachings which I am only BARELY beginning to practice. Forgive 70 X 7 times...oh my! Be peacemakers. Live in the moment. Trust that all your needs will be met. Be like a child, love others AS I love myself....I am actually deeply grateful for my upbringing, because the teachings of Christ have at least been apparent to me all these years, even though I did not truly understand how to practice them.
Maya Angelou says, "When people tell me they are a Christian, or any other faith for that matter, I say to them, 'Already?' It takes a lifetime." (loose paraphrase)
I thought about that. I do not know if I am a Christian. Do I honestly love others? Do I allow them to be whoever they truly are, without judgment? Do I trust God fully to work out every situation without me having to continually control and manipulate the process?
What I do know is that I am a Seeker after God...a Child of God...a Follower of Christ...a Student of this beautiful, crazy, painful, ecstatic, sorrowful life that is such an amazing, amazing gift!
May 7. 2014
The experiences of so many griefs over the years, and my inability to cope with the sadness, led me to a place of finally proclaiming, "I am so tired of always coming back to this deep sadness!" Aha! I warn you. As David Whyte points out, once you declare the nature of your imprisonment, you WILL begin your journey home and it MAY not be pretty. But it will be amazing! And so it has been.
Due to my journey over the past 8 months, I seriously cannot think to call myself a Christian anymore. I have a growing realization that the rules and teachings I followed for so long (emphasis here is on the "I", for I cannot say how any of my other Christian brothers and sisters have followed Christ) have a deeply distorted view of God, if God is truly the Expression of Love...and yet my experiences of God/Christ have only grown more profound and deeper in nature. I am, however, not Christ like, gracious, I am far too judgmental...but I'm on my way. The experiencing of these teachings has brought about some profound changes in my life and I am finding it is only the experience of God that matters to me anymore.
Judge not, lest you be judged...one of Christ's teachings which I am only BARELY beginning to practice. Forgive 70 X 7 times...oh my! Be peacemakers. Live in the moment. Trust that all your needs will be met. Be like a child, love others AS I love myself....I am actually deeply grateful for my upbringing, because the teachings of Christ have at least been apparent to me all these years, even though I did not truly understand how to practice them.
Maya Angelou says, "When people tell me they are a Christian, or any other faith for that matter, I say to them, 'Already?' It takes a lifetime." (loose paraphrase)
I thought about that. I do not know if I am a Christian. Do I honestly love others? Do I allow them to be whoever they truly are, without judgment? Do I trust God fully to work out every situation without me having to continually control and manipulate the process?
What I do know is that I am a Seeker after God...a Child of God...a Follower of Christ...a Student of this beautiful, crazy, painful, ecstatic, sorrowful life that is such an amazing, amazing gift!
May 7. 2014
Despair and the Thought of Loving Myself
These days have been hard since my birthday...and beautiful. I love paradox in life...it slams into my intellect and insists on messing with my idea of what IS. I am faced with the insistence of learning how to love myself. DAMN! How do you love yourself when all of your life you have practiced loving others? I blocked someone today from FB. I called someone else an asshole. I had to walk two hours and meditate twice to quiet the gut clawing sadness deep inside me that has been waiting to be noticed. And my Christian friends who think this is a "lack of God in my life"...believe me...I have applied every Christian strategy to this sadness...every prayer...every spiritual maxim...every "tearing down principalities and powers"...I have done it...communion, spiritual warfare, talking in tongues, releasing, forgiving, letting go, worship, prayer...and on, and on, and on...and the gut-clawing sadness has won and I sit with it now, and make friends with it, and ask it...finally...what it wants....What it needs to show me...what it needs.
I have surrendered to Sorrow, and I am grateful for the capacity for Sorrow, for Emotion, for Despair. I am grateful that I feel anything at all. I am capable of GREAT joy, and I am capable of sadness as well. One day I may understand, but for now I will endure.
May 6. 2014
I have surrendered to Sorrow, and I am grateful for the capacity for Sorrow, for Emotion, for Despair. I am grateful that I feel anything at all. I am capable of GREAT joy, and I am capable of sadness as well. One day I may understand, but for now I will endure.
May 6. 2014
Forgive Us Our Trespasses...
For my birthday this weekend I went to Victoria to hear David Whyte - poet and philosopher- speak on Solace, Asking the Beautiful Question. One of the questions was "How far from home are you exiled?" I thought about this, and realized with great sadness that I seem to have a sense of what home is, but can seldom find myself there in that home. I believe I have had to adjust to and occupy so many different spaces in my life that I'm not sure what it is to BE home. I am generally occupying another space that is not my own true place. It belongs to other and I am simply adjusting to it.
On returning to Gabriola this thought troubled me and I asked the question again of myself. I am learning that my questions are answered not with words, but by experience. If I ask a question I will then live the answer. I suppose this is good, and hopefully makes for a more valuable lesson, but it is also pretty raw and painful. A tidy treatise, written in succinct script on my brainwaves would be more palatable perhaps. But instead I found myself in complete, incomprehensible despair around my ideas of love, how my life should look, how others lives should look...you know...ya da ya da ya da...the brain-bees were buzzing angrily. I woke to an answer, as I often do..."This is about judgment, Heather, and about self protection. Can't you trust Me with both of these things?" Good grief! Not THAT again...
My judgment of others is a deep, deep root system. It is twisted through my psyche in so many ways. In pulling up the plant of bitterness in one area, I think I have the whole root, but a portion is left behind and I start again. Judgment leads to despair and in focusing on the "not enough' or the "too much" of others (or even myself), I find that suddenly, I am once again exiled in foreign lands. It is only when I stop...am silent with my judgment... that I am able to come to myself and occupy my own dear space. I can come home to myself.
This reaching out into other lives is like tentacles of fear and control, and these keep me from my own true place. They keep me from my own true place because I am too busy with distant territories, and so very, very far from home.
Forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us...the word trespass denotes being on another person's property; messing about with things that are not my own. Forgive me the trespassing I do in other people's hearts. Forgive me.
I want to come home to my own heart and make myself AT home there.
May 5, 2014
On returning to Gabriola this thought troubled me and I asked the question again of myself. I am learning that my questions are answered not with words, but by experience. If I ask a question I will then live the answer. I suppose this is good, and hopefully makes for a more valuable lesson, but it is also pretty raw and painful. A tidy treatise, written in succinct script on my brainwaves would be more palatable perhaps. But instead I found myself in complete, incomprehensible despair around my ideas of love, how my life should look, how others lives should look...you know...ya da ya da ya da...the brain-bees were buzzing angrily. I woke to an answer, as I often do..."This is about judgment, Heather, and about self protection. Can't you trust Me with both of these things?" Good grief! Not THAT again...
My judgment of others is a deep, deep root system. It is twisted through my psyche in so many ways. In pulling up the plant of bitterness in one area, I think I have the whole root, but a portion is left behind and I start again. Judgment leads to despair and in focusing on the "not enough' or the "too much" of others (or even myself), I find that suddenly, I am once again exiled in foreign lands. It is only when I stop...am silent with my judgment... that I am able to come to myself and occupy my own dear space. I can come home to myself.
This reaching out into other lives is like tentacles of fear and control, and these keep me from my own true place. They keep me from my own true place because I am too busy with distant territories, and so very, very far from home.
Forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us...the word trespass denotes being on another person's property; messing about with things that are not my own. Forgive me the trespassing I do in other people's hearts. Forgive me.
I want to come home to my own heart and make myself AT home there.
May 5, 2014
Inhabiting My Own Space
I asked the plants to speak to me
But not without qualifying the nature of that speech.
Always a mind that has to control
As being controlled and taught to control...
I asked the plants to speak to me
And qualified the process
They did not speak - though I ordered them.
Then yielding, I sat on log, low in ferns
and with crossed legs meditated quiet
and lost track of time
Upon eyes opening a new world appears
my seeing altered
my seeing altering all I see
And ferns are precious with new buds curling
and insects rising in formed clarity
perfectly outlined in the forest air
fairy-like and back-lit
Vanilla leaf laces her way through woodland
mossy-green as painted swaths
And translated to my mind, these thoughts speak clear...
"We do not speak in words
but in form and beauty
We communicate
through the expression of what we are.
We communicate by simply being."
And I wander on in happy space
the plants spoke to me a truth
and I must inhabit this space
that is my own
Heather Macleod - Copyright May 2014
But not without qualifying the nature of that speech.
Always a mind that has to control
As being controlled and taught to control...
I asked the plants to speak to me
And qualified the process
They did not speak - though I ordered them.
Then yielding, I sat on log, low in ferns
and with crossed legs meditated quiet
and lost track of time
Upon eyes opening a new world appears
my seeing altered
my seeing altering all I see
And ferns are precious with new buds curling
and insects rising in formed clarity
perfectly outlined in the forest air
fairy-like and back-lit
Vanilla leaf laces her way through woodland
mossy-green as painted swaths
And translated to my mind, these thoughts speak clear...
"We do not speak in words
but in form and beauty
We communicate
through the expression of what we are.
We communicate by simply being."
And I wander on in happy space
the plants spoke to me a truth
and I must inhabit this space
that is my own
Heather Macleod - Copyright May 2014
On Being a Victim and Boundaries and Feeling Angry and Feeling Bad about Expressing Anger and The Sermon on the Mount ... Seriously!
Prepare for a ramble...
The other day I expressed anger. I knew it wasn't kind. I knew that. I love kindness. I don't love meanness. I am afraid of making people feel bad. Someone I love felt bad. Now one would wonder why I would blog something that I know may make someone I love feel bad, and why would I SAY I love someone if I intend to blog hurtful things about them? Beats me...really. I have spent the past few days beating myself up about my last blog, and I have been observing this process of beating myself up. I have not apologized...I have communicated and all is well...but I still "feel" bad. It has been many, many years for me of taking responsibility for other people's well being. I have been caretaker extraordinaire...even look at what I chose as a career in my later years...herbalist...care taking.
I recently read an interpretation by Emmet Fox of Christ's Sermon on the Mount. Brilliant, and life changing...IF I practice it...but there was no room for anger in this teaching...I thought about this. I realize I have anger from past events, which I no longer want in my life...this anger serves me right now in my journey, as it is teaching me to create boundaries in the moment, so I wont have repressed anger down the road....this is good. This is what I'm learning to do. It ain't easy though...Gracious!
In exploring these old suppressed emotions, however, I see that it would be easy to fall into the status of a victim, and this is not something I ever want to perceive myself as. It is a powerless place, and yet I have often placed myself in positions of powerlessness and chosen the status of a victim...this seems to be where my rage emanates from. It is those moments of powerlessness...self created...where I did not walk out, speak up, assert my own strength...that I find the repressed rage. Perhaps then the rage should better be turned on myself and dissolved quickly with love and leave others completely out of it.
In Fox's interpretation of The Sermon on the Mount I am encouraged to release others quickly, including myself, carry absolutely NO judgment of others in my heart, refrain from speaking ill of anyone, or listening to gossip, and also turning all of my concerns over to a higher power, which I name God. I spent 6 days doing this and it was a happy, carefree 6 days...in my anger I didn't live up to these teachings...BUT I'm OK with that...they're just teachings and I'll keep at it...mostly I want to listen to my own heart, experience my own thoughts and emotions and how they make me feel...live with them for awhile, observe them and then let them go.
I recently read an essay by David Whyte...it was on the topic of Self-Knowledge. My friend laughs at me when I am impatient to know everything about myself...."this is just another form of control, Heather." he says...sigh... David Whyte has this to say about Self-Knowledge..."Human beings are a frontier between what is known and what is not known. The act of turning any part of the unknown into the known is simply an invitation for an equal measure of the unknown to flow in and reestablish that frontier: to reassert both the exterior and interior horizon of an individual life; to make us what we are – that is - a moving edge between what we know about ourselves and what we are about to become. What we are actually about to become or are afraid of becoming always trumps and rules over what we think we are already… "
Ah, DW...you ARE so succinct!
April 30, 2014
The other day I expressed anger. I knew it wasn't kind. I knew that. I love kindness. I don't love meanness. I am afraid of making people feel bad. Someone I love felt bad. Now one would wonder why I would blog something that I know may make someone I love feel bad, and why would I SAY I love someone if I intend to blog hurtful things about them? Beats me...really. I have spent the past few days beating myself up about my last blog, and I have been observing this process of beating myself up. I have not apologized...I have communicated and all is well...but I still "feel" bad. It has been many, many years for me of taking responsibility for other people's well being. I have been caretaker extraordinaire...even look at what I chose as a career in my later years...herbalist...care taking.
I recently read an interpretation by Emmet Fox of Christ's Sermon on the Mount. Brilliant, and life changing...IF I practice it...but there was no room for anger in this teaching...I thought about this. I realize I have anger from past events, which I no longer want in my life...this anger serves me right now in my journey, as it is teaching me to create boundaries in the moment, so I wont have repressed anger down the road....this is good. This is what I'm learning to do. It ain't easy though...Gracious!
In exploring these old suppressed emotions, however, I see that it would be easy to fall into the status of a victim, and this is not something I ever want to perceive myself as. It is a powerless place, and yet I have often placed myself in positions of powerlessness and chosen the status of a victim...this seems to be where my rage emanates from. It is those moments of powerlessness...self created...where I did not walk out, speak up, assert my own strength...that I find the repressed rage. Perhaps then the rage should better be turned on myself and dissolved quickly with love and leave others completely out of it.
In Fox's interpretation of The Sermon on the Mount I am encouraged to release others quickly, including myself, carry absolutely NO judgment of others in my heart, refrain from speaking ill of anyone, or listening to gossip, and also turning all of my concerns over to a higher power, which I name God. I spent 6 days doing this and it was a happy, carefree 6 days...in my anger I didn't live up to these teachings...BUT I'm OK with that...they're just teachings and I'll keep at it...mostly I want to listen to my own heart, experience my own thoughts and emotions and how they make me feel...live with them for awhile, observe them and then let them go.
I recently read an essay by David Whyte...it was on the topic of Self-Knowledge. My friend laughs at me when I am impatient to know everything about myself...."this is just another form of control, Heather." he says...sigh... David Whyte has this to say about Self-Knowledge..."Human beings are a frontier between what is known and what is not known. The act of turning any part of the unknown into the known is simply an invitation for an equal measure of the unknown to flow in and reestablish that frontier: to reassert both the exterior and interior horizon of an individual life; to make us what we are – that is - a moving edge between what we know about ourselves and what we are about to become. What we are actually about to become or are afraid of becoming always trumps and rules over what we think we are already… "
Ah, DW...you ARE so succinct!
April 30, 2014
Angry
I suppose it was bound to happen at some point...the anger. I am cleaning out the workshop with my son. I am cleaning out my ex-husbands accumulated mess...mostly...I am cleaning, once again, another person's crap. I have enough messes of my own without having to deal with another persons stuff. It is becoming apparent to me in my life this past week that I have suppressed anger...hugely.
It is not appropriate for a woman raised in the environment I was raised in, married to the dominant type of husband who was my first husband, and then being in a church for 12 years that was absolutely dominated by a headstrong and somewhat sadistic leader, to ever show anger. It is appropriate for her to lower her head, agree meekly and hide her tears. it is appropriate for her to look inside herself and see how she can change. It is appropriate for her to think of ways to make the other person look good, feel better about themselves and be right.
I am remembering time after time of quiet, raging acquiescence with my first husband's unrealistic expectations and jealousies...his name calling and his harsh treatment of our children...and I am angry at myself for this silence in me...I remember ridiculous standards I had to meet with myself and my children in the fear filled church I attended for 12 years. I remember the look of surprise on my last husband's face when faced with his infidelity...and his comment as I threw the phone across the room and tried to hit him..."you have an anger problem"...WTF...aren't you allowed to be angry when you find out your husband is sneaking off to go see someone?
Oh dear...I do remember. And it is only in these past few weeks that I am beginning to realize that it is there...deep inside, waiting to be freed.
One of the posts further down my blog was referring to a letter from an old friend. A letter of admonition and judgement. My first response was one of love and allowing...my second response was that of anger. This is a perfect example of the before and what I am feeling now. So there is the allowing others to be who they are, and there is also the allowing myself to feel whatever I need to feel and say whatever I need to say.
I am pissed off! I am mad! I am fed up! i am selling all this stuff! In fact, I am selling almost everything in my house and I am starting over fresh....
April 28, 2014
It is not appropriate for a woman raised in the environment I was raised in, married to the dominant type of husband who was my first husband, and then being in a church for 12 years that was absolutely dominated by a headstrong and somewhat sadistic leader, to ever show anger. It is appropriate for her to lower her head, agree meekly and hide her tears. it is appropriate for her to look inside herself and see how she can change. It is appropriate for her to think of ways to make the other person look good, feel better about themselves and be right.
I am remembering time after time of quiet, raging acquiescence with my first husband's unrealistic expectations and jealousies...his name calling and his harsh treatment of our children...and I am angry at myself for this silence in me...I remember ridiculous standards I had to meet with myself and my children in the fear filled church I attended for 12 years. I remember the look of surprise on my last husband's face when faced with his infidelity...and his comment as I threw the phone across the room and tried to hit him..."you have an anger problem"...WTF...aren't you allowed to be angry when you find out your husband is sneaking off to go see someone?
Oh dear...I do remember. And it is only in these past few weeks that I am beginning to realize that it is there...deep inside, waiting to be freed.
One of the posts further down my blog was referring to a letter from an old friend. A letter of admonition and judgement. My first response was one of love and allowing...my second response was that of anger. This is a perfect example of the before and what I am feeling now. So there is the allowing others to be who they are, and there is also the allowing myself to feel whatever I need to feel and say whatever I need to say.
I am pissed off! I am mad! I am fed up! i am selling all this stuff! In fact, I am selling almost everything in my house and I am starting over fresh....
April 28, 2014
The Experience of Peace
Okay. It has been established that my life is a roller coaster of drama and turmoil, joy and sadness, loss and gain. I am contemplating peace lately and the ridding myself of anxiety.
As humans we all want to be happy, but if truth be told, much of our lives is just a struggle to stay above the baseline of anxiety, worry and sadness. I don't really know if my own life is any example of what everyone's life might look like,but I go from ecstatic experience to despair to laughter to anxiety to determination to ...well, you get the picture. There never seems to be a constant of ease and peace...
Lately I have been exploring the error of self-righteousness and the letting go of judgments. Whew! This is hard work to kill these two in my life. There is hardly an hour or a conversation that goes by that I am not presented with the choice to judge and think in a superior way to another.
Gracious!
Today I had a long conversation with a new girl friend of mine...she shared some stories about someone I know well. I was appalled. I was hurt. I was embarrassed. Anxiety set in. The peace I had known that morning...the laughter and joy I had the night before were gone. In fact, despair settled on me with a certainty and chuckled darkly in my face. "See? I've got you." It said, maliciously. "Who do you think you are? You can't trust anyone. People don't deserve to be loved! See what they do to you!" And I wept ... for about a minute ...then I stood up and said , "NO!" And for about a half hour I stalked back and forth in my house, loudly stating affirmations such as love, grace, wisdom, peace, joy...etc. Still, not much help...hmmm.
I then went and sat in front of the wood stove and quieted my mind and waited. Gently and clearly these thoughts came to me...
"Heather, you have anxiety because 1) you listened to here-say about another, 2) you accepted it, 3) you chose to judge the person spoken about, 4) you decided to become a victim in this situation and finally 5) you also decided you cared what people thought about you." Let me recap...
1) I listened to here-say
2) I believed the here-say
3) I judged the person spoken about
4) I decided I was a victim
5) I cared what people thought about me
Wow! That easily I was taken down...but NOT OUT! My peace was restored as I saw the pattern. As I made the decision to continue to believe the best of others, to be responsible for my own actions, to refrain from judging and listening to stories about another and to continue, most of all, to learn to be oblivious to what I think others may be thinking about me, my peace came back.
I think I'm on to something, folks. And, no, it ain't easy. No one wants to look stupid to others, but I think there is a long term thing that may happen as we continue to hold our heads up and look people in the eye and be authentically ourselves.
I am determined to drop these old habits. I am SO determined to drop these old habits. it's not easy, but it IS possible. And it's just one more day on the journey upward. Just one more day and one more lesson learned and sweet peace is here with me, and that's all I really long for.
April 17, 2014
As humans we all want to be happy, but if truth be told, much of our lives is just a struggle to stay above the baseline of anxiety, worry and sadness. I don't really know if my own life is any example of what everyone's life might look like,but I go from ecstatic experience to despair to laughter to anxiety to determination to ...well, you get the picture. There never seems to be a constant of ease and peace...
Lately I have been exploring the error of self-righteousness and the letting go of judgments. Whew! This is hard work to kill these two in my life. There is hardly an hour or a conversation that goes by that I am not presented with the choice to judge and think in a superior way to another.
Gracious!
Today I had a long conversation with a new girl friend of mine...she shared some stories about someone I know well. I was appalled. I was hurt. I was embarrassed. Anxiety set in. The peace I had known that morning...the laughter and joy I had the night before were gone. In fact, despair settled on me with a certainty and chuckled darkly in my face. "See? I've got you." It said, maliciously. "Who do you think you are? You can't trust anyone. People don't deserve to be loved! See what they do to you!" And I wept ... for about a minute ...then I stood up and said , "NO!" And for about a half hour I stalked back and forth in my house, loudly stating affirmations such as love, grace, wisdom, peace, joy...etc. Still, not much help...hmmm.
I then went and sat in front of the wood stove and quieted my mind and waited. Gently and clearly these thoughts came to me...
"Heather, you have anxiety because 1) you listened to here-say about another, 2) you accepted it, 3) you chose to judge the person spoken about, 4) you decided to become a victim in this situation and finally 5) you also decided you cared what people thought about you." Let me recap...
1) I listened to here-say
2) I believed the here-say
3) I judged the person spoken about
4) I decided I was a victim
5) I cared what people thought about me
Wow! That easily I was taken down...but NOT OUT! My peace was restored as I saw the pattern. As I made the decision to continue to believe the best of others, to be responsible for my own actions, to refrain from judging and listening to stories about another and to continue, most of all, to learn to be oblivious to what I think others may be thinking about me, my peace came back.
I think I'm on to something, folks. And, no, it ain't easy. No one wants to look stupid to others, but I think there is a long term thing that may happen as we continue to hold our heads up and look people in the eye and be authentically ourselves.
I am determined to drop these old habits. I am SO determined to drop these old habits. it's not easy, but it IS possible. And it's just one more day on the journey upward. Just one more day and one more lesson learned and sweet peace is here with me, and that's all I really long for.
April 17, 2014
TO MY FRIENDS
Let there be tenderness always
And an honouring of selves and self
Let there be laughter and playing
And prayers offered alone
And protections together
Consider each long conversation
The mixing of thoughts
Like fresh, wise salt in the broth
Of sharing
And let the sharing be truth
The friendship eternal
And may the seeking never end
May there be no limits to the finding
No closing off of kindness
No demanding to be different
Let there be tenderness always.
Heather Macleod copyright April 17, 2014
Small Thoughts...
So who am I? Am I the sum of my skin, my features, my hair? Am I the shape of my feet and the curve of my thigh? Am I the clothes I wear or the friends I know? Who am I? How exactly do we determine our identity? Am I the loss I weep through and the joy I laugh with? Maybe I'm the music...Sometimes I wonder what that's all about...the poems and the music and the words; these children that fly out of my soul; these children of emotion...
April 17, 2014
April 17, 2014
"Those who love you are not fooled by mistakes you have made or dark images you hold about yourself. They remember your beauty when you feel ugly; your wholeness when you are broken; your innocence when you feel guilty and your purpose when you are confused." Alan Cohen
Self Righteousness is the Enemy of Love
I am determined to wrest the specter of Self-Righteousness from my soul before I exit this life. It has been a controlling overlord to me and has brought me more grief than probably any other of my errors. I think about this word...Self Righteousness or Self -Rightness...my own need to be right, making others wrong. Probably the greatest consequence of this habit is a breakdown in relationships as I look down from my self crowned height at those around me who have failed to meet my expectations. It is said that we judge others by their actions and ourselves by our intentions...hardly fair that!
I have always longed for unconditional love. Who doesn't? And yet my love is so often conditional. I realize, as time goes by and my eyes are continually opened to my penchant for judgment, that there is a continuous parade of these thoughts that strut before my eyes on an hourly basis...if not more often. The stuff of judgment permeates every conversation, thought and intention. It is a parasite which I am often not aware of, sucking the life out of loving.
And I was thinking about love today as well...how easy it is to talk about it, debate it, meditate on it...and yet...what love really looks like is the ACT of it...the motion of it between myself and another. It is me taking my grand baby out for a walk so her mom can get some time to herself. Love is listening without needing to talk about myself and what I'm doing. Love is allowing my loved ones to be who they are and express themselves AS themselves without correction.
I don't think that love and self righteousness can exist in the same breath, in the same moment, in the same room. One is the enemy of the other, and will sure kill it by its very presence.
And to let love win in my life is to be most happy. I win as well as the recipient of my love, for in truth, they may not truly realize what I'm giving them, and so in this case it is probably true that "it is better to give than to receive". To love is to be happy and joyous. To love is to be free of busyness and the burden of trying to fix others lives. To love is to let go and then find. To love is to see everything in the other as good...perfectly imperfect, and imperfectly perfect!
April 15, 2014
I have always longed for unconditional love. Who doesn't? And yet my love is so often conditional. I realize, as time goes by and my eyes are continually opened to my penchant for judgment, that there is a continuous parade of these thoughts that strut before my eyes on an hourly basis...if not more often. The stuff of judgment permeates every conversation, thought and intention. It is a parasite which I am often not aware of, sucking the life out of loving.
And I was thinking about love today as well...how easy it is to talk about it, debate it, meditate on it...and yet...what love really looks like is the ACT of it...the motion of it between myself and another. It is me taking my grand baby out for a walk so her mom can get some time to herself. Love is listening without needing to talk about myself and what I'm doing. Love is allowing my loved ones to be who they are and express themselves AS themselves without correction.
I don't think that love and self righteousness can exist in the same breath, in the same moment, in the same room. One is the enemy of the other, and will sure kill it by its very presence.
And to let love win in my life is to be most happy. I win as well as the recipient of my love, for in truth, they may not truly realize what I'm giving them, and so in this case it is probably true that "it is better to give than to receive". To love is to be happy and joyous. To love is to be free of busyness and the burden of trying to fix others lives. To love is to let go and then find. To love is to see everything in the other as good...perfectly imperfect, and imperfectly perfect!
April 15, 2014
"Love is by far the most important thing of all. It is the golden gate of paradise. Pray for the understanding of Love, and meditate upon it daily. It casts out fear. It is the fulfilling of the law. Love is absolutely invincible." Emmet Fox
Thoughts On Hearing the Voice or Presence of God
Learning to hear God is a life long process. At times I have thought I heard the words of God. Maybe I did, maybe I didn't. I know at least twice I was absolutely certain. The words were so profoundly out of context and so unexpected and they came to pass in my life. But there are so many voices in this world, the loudest which appears to be my own ego, the darkness which is in me...the intellect that wants to figure and blame and sort and UNDERSTAND. That part of me that wants to straighten others out and expect things of them; expect things of God. I am learning, however, to listen beyond the voices...to listen to the song behind the noise.
I am thinking the discomfort I feel is not God. The confusion is not God. I have felt the clarity, joy and peaceful wonder that comes over me when I believe I hear God singing. He does not speak to me in words. It seems as though it is more that He speaks through my own mouth and suddenly I recognize those words just spoken to be a truth. I recognize it as they emerge from my own lips and there is that sudden jolt of connection with God and I am surrounded by that sense of absolute grace and wonder. I am often dropped to my knees in these moments, or stand with arms raised and tears running down my face until I am washed, once again.
There are difficulties that want to present themselves to me daily. Sometimes I wrestle and wrestle with them. They keep me from sleep and I try to figure out what to do, how to hear the proper voice, how to act from my own deep wisdom. This morning was such a morning and I was deeply conflicted. I observed the conflict within me and watched it run its course. Then I sat down to read a bit. Almost immediately I read the following quote by Emmet Fox (the underlined bit is what jumped out at me), taken from his essay The Golden Key.
"As for the actual method of working, like all fundamental things, it is simplicity itself. All you have to do is this: Stop thinking about the difficulty, whatever it is, and think about God instead. This is the complete rule, and if only you will do this, the trouble, whatever it is, will disappear. It makes no difference what kind of trouble it is. It may be a big thing or a little thing: it may concern health, finance, a lawsuit, a quarrel, an accident, or anything else conceivable: but whatever it is, stop thinking about it and think of God instead -- that is all you have to do.
It could not be simpler, could it? God could scarcely have made it simpler, and yet it never fails to work when given a fair trial.
Do not try to form a picture of God, which is impossible. Work by rehearsing anything or everything that you know about God. God is wisdom, truth, inconceivable love. God is present everywhere, has infinite power, knows everything, and so on. It matters not how well you may think you understand these things: go over them repeatedly.
But you must stop thinking of the trouble, whatever it is. The rule is, to think about God. If you are thinking about your difficulty, you are not thinking about God. To be continually glancing over your shoulder in order to see how matters are progressing is fatal, because it is thinking of the trouble, and you must think of God and nothing else. Your object is to drive the thought of the difficulty out of your consciousness, for a few moments at least, substituting for it the thought of God. This is the crux of the whole thing. If you can become so absorbed in this consideration of the spiritual world that you forget for a while about the difficulty, you will find that you are safely and comfortably out of your difficulty -- that your demonstration is made."
Joy hit my like a tidal wave...REALLY! I'm not being over dramatic. I shifted from conflict, to thoughts of God and I was in the presence of God, just like that, my physical being and my spirit overwhelmed with His love...so simple. One more profound lesson for this day. Oh, THANK YOU, thank you, thank you! for these simple insights. Let me apply them. Let me not only learn but also live these truths. May they absolutely shift the direction of my life. May they always lead me to God.
April 9, 2014
I am thinking the discomfort I feel is not God. The confusion is not God. I have felt the clarity, joy and peaceful wonder that comes over me when I believe I hear God singing. He does not speak to me in words. It seems as though it is more that He speaks through my own mouth and suddenly I recognize those words just spoken to be a truth. I recognize it as they emerge from my own lips and there is that sudden jolt of connection with God and I am surrounded by that sense of absolute grace and wonder. I am often dropped to my knees in these moments, or stand with arms raised and tears running down my face until I am washed, once again.
There are difficulties that want to present themselves to me daily. Sometimes I wrestle and wrestle with them. They keep me from sleep and I try to figure out what to do, how to hear the proper voice, how to act from my own deep wisdom. This morning was such a morning and I was deeply conflicted. I observed the conflict within me and watched it run its course. Then I sat down to read a bit. Almost immediately I read the following quote by Emmet Fox (the underlined bit is what jumped out at me), taken from his essay The Golden Key.
"As for the actual method of working, like all fundamental things, it is simplicity itself. All you have to do is this: Stop thinking about the difficulty, whatever it is, and think about God instead. This is the complete rule, and if only you will do this, the trouble, whatever it is, will disappear. It makes no difference what kind of trouble it is. It may be a big thing or a little thing: it may concern health, finance, a lawsuit, a quarrel, an accident, or anything else conceivable: but whatever it is, stop thinking about it and think of God instead -- that is all you have to do.
It could not be simpler, could it? God could scarcely have made it simpler, and yet it never fails to work when given a fair trial.
Do not try to form a picture of God, which is impossible. Work by rehearsing anything or everything that you know about God. God is wisdom, truth, inconceivable love. God is present everywhere, has infinite power, knows everything, and so on. It matters not how well you may think you understand these things: go over them repeatedly.
But you must stop thinking of the trouble, whatever it is. The rule is, to think about God. If you are thinking about your difficulty, you are not thinking about God. To be continually glancing over your shoulder in order to see how matters are progressing is fatal, because it is thinking of the trouble, and you must think of God and nothing else. Your object is to drive the thought of the difficulty out of your consciousness, for a few moments at least, substituting for it the thought of God. This is the crux of the whole thing. If you can become so absorbed in this consideration of the spiritual world that you forget for a while about the difficulty, you will find that you are safely and comfortably out of your difficulty -- that your demonstration is made."
Joy hit my like a tidal wave...REALLY! I'm not being over dramatic. I shifted from conflict, to thoughts of God and I was in the presence of God, just like that, my physical being and my spirit overwhelmed with His love...so simple. One more profound lesson for this day. Oh, THANK YOU, thank you, thank you! for these simple insights. Let me apply them. Let me not only learn but also live these truths. May they absolutely shift the direction of my life. May they always lead me to God.
April 9, 2014
There Is No Sun...
Puddleglum was still fighting hard. "I don't know rightly what you all mean by a world, " he said, talking like a man who hasn't enough air. "But you can play that fiddle till your fingers drop off, and still you won't make me forget Narnia and the whole Overworld too. We'll never see it again, I shouldn't wonder. You may have blotted it out and turned it dark like this, for all I know. Nothing more likely. But I know I was there once. I've seen the sky full of stars. I've seen the sun coming up out of the sea of a morning and sinking behind the mountains at night. And I've seen him up in the midday sky when I couldn't look at him for brightness."
Puddleglum's words had a rousing effect. The other three all breathed again and looked at one another like people newly awaken.
"Why, there it is!" cried the Prince. "Of course! The blessing of Aslan upon this honest Marsh-wiggle. We have all been dreaming, these last few minutes. How could we have forgotten it? Of course we've all seen the sun."
"By Jove, so we have!" said Scrubb, "Good for you, Puddleglum! You're the only one of us with any sense, I do believe."
Then came the Witch's voice, cooing softly like the voice of a wood-pigeon from the high elms in an old garden at three o'clock in the middle of a sleepy, summer afternoon; and it said:
"What is this sun that you all speak of? Do you mean anything by the word?"
"Yes, we jolly well do," said Scrubb.
"Can you tell me what it's like?" asked the Witch (thrum, thrum, thrum went the strings).
"Please it your Grace," said the Prince, very coldly and politely. "You see that lamp. It is round and yellow and gives light to the whole room; and hangeth moreover from the roof. Now that thing which we call the sun is like the lamp, only far greater and brighter. It giveth light to the whole Overworld and hangeth in the sky."
"Hangeth from what, my lord?" asked the Witch; and then, while they were all still thinking how to answer her, she added, with another of her soft, silver laughs: "You see? When you try to think out clearly what this sun must be, you cannot tell me. You can only tell me it is like the lamp. Your sun is a dream; and there is nothing in that dream that was not copied from the lamp. The lamp is the real thing; the sun is but a tale, a children's story."
"Yes, I see now," said Jill in a heavy hopeless tone. "It must be so." And while she said this, it seemed to her to be very good sense.
Slowly and gravely the Witch repeated, "There is no sun." After a pause, and after a struggle in their minds, all four of them said together, "You are right. There is no sun." It was such a relief to give in and say it.
"There never was a sun," said the Witch.
"No. There never was a sun," said the Prince, and the Marsh-wiggle, and the children.
For the last few minutes Jill had been feeling that there was something she must remember at all costs. And now she did. But it was dreadfully hard to say it. She felt as if huge weights were laid on her lips. At last, with an effort that seemed to take all the good out of her, she said:
"There's Aslan."
"Aslan?" said the Witch, quickening ever so slightly the pace of her thrumming. "What a pretty name! What does it mean?"
"He is the great Lion who called us out of our own world," said Scrubb, "and sent us into this one to find Prince Rilian."
"What is a lion?" asked the Witch.
"Oh, hang it all!" said Scrubb. "Don't you know? How can we describe it to her? Have you ever seen a cat?"
"Surely," said the Queen. "I love cats."
"Well, a lion is a little bit - only a little bit, mind you - like a huge cat - with a mane. At least, it's not like a horse's mane, you know, it's more like a judge's wig. And it's yellow. And terrifically strong."
The Witch shook her head. "I see," she said, "that we should do no better with your lion, as you call it, than we did your your sun. You have seen lamps, and so you imagined a bigger and better lamp and called it the sun. You've seen cats, and now you want a bigger and better cat, and it's to be called a lion. Well, 'tis a pretty make-believe, though, to say truth, it would suit you all better if you were younger. And look how you can put nothing into your make-believe without copying it from the real world, this world of mine, which is the only world. But even you children are too old for such play. As for you, my lord Prince, that art a man full grown, fie upon you! Are you not ashamed of such toys? Come, all of you. Put away these childish tricks. I have work for you all in the real world. There is no Narnia, no Overworld, no sky, no sun, no Aslan. And now, to bed all. And let us begin a wiser life tomorrow. But, first, to bed; to sleep; deep sleep, soft pillows, sleep without foolish dreams."
The Prince and the two children were standing with their heads hung down, their cheeks flushed, their eyes half closed; the strength all gone from them; the enchantment almost complete. But Puddleglum, desperately gathering all his strength, walked over to the fire. The he did a very brave thing. He knew it wouldn't hurt him quite as much as it would hurt a human; for his feet (which were bare) were webbed and hard and cold-blooded like a duck's. But he knew it would hurt him badly enough; and so it did. With his bare foot he stamped on the fire, grinding a large part of it into ashes on the flat hearth. And three things happened at once.
First, the sweet, heavy smell grew very much less. For though the whole fire had not been put out, a good bit of it had, and what remained smelled very largely of burnt Marsh-wiggle, which is not at all an enchanting smell. This instantly made everyone's brain far clearer. The Prince and the children held up their heads again and opened their eyes.
Secondly, the Witch, in a loud, terrible voice, utterly different from all the sweet tones she had been using up till now, called out, "What are you doing? Dare to touch my fire again, mud-filth, and I'll turn the blood to fire inside your veins."
Thirdly, the pain itself made Puddleglum's head for a moment perfectly clear and he knew exactly what he really thought. There is nothing like a good shock of pain for dissolving certain kinds of magic.
"One word, Ma'am," he said, coming back from the fire, limping, because of the pain. "One word. All you've been saying is quite right, I shouldn't wonder. I'm a chap who always liked to know the worst and then put the best face I can on it. So I won't deny any of what you said. But there's one thing more to be said, even so. Suppose we have only dreamed, or made up, all those things - trees and grass and sun and moon and stars and Aslan himself. Suppose we have. Then all I can say is that, in that case, the made-up things seem a good deal more important than the real ones. Suppose this black pit of a kingdom of yours is the only world. Well, it strikes me as a pretty poor one. And that's a funny thing, when you come to think of it. We're just babies making up a game, if you're right. But four babies playing a game can make a play-world which licks your real world hollow. That's why I'm going to stand by the play-world. I'm on Aslan's side even if there isn't any Aslan to lead it. I'm going to live as like a Narnian as I can even if there isn't any Narnia. So, thanking you kindly for our supper, if these two gentleman and the young lady are ready, we're leaving your court at once and setting out in the dark to spend our lives looking for Overland. Not that our lives will be very long, I should think; but that's small loss if the world's as dull a place as you say."
From The Silver Chair by CS Lewis
Puddleglum's words had a rousing effect. The other three all breathed again and looked at one another like people newly awaken.
"Why, there it is!" cried the Prince. "Of course! The blessing of Aslan upon this honest Marsh-wiggle. We have all been dreaming, these last few minutes. How could we have forgotten it? Of course we've all seen the sun."
"By Jove, so we have!" said Scrubb, "Good for you, Puddleglum! You're the only one of us with any sense, I do believe."
Then came the Witch's voice, cooing softly like the voice of a wood-pigeon from the high elms in an old garden at three o'clock in the middle of a sleepy, summer afternoon; and it said:
"What is this sun that you all speak of? Do you mean anything by the word?"
"Yes, we jolly well do," said Scrubb.
"Can you tell me what it's like?" asked the Witch (thrum, thrum, thrum went the strings).
"Please it your Grace," said the Prince, very coldly and politely. "You see that lamp. It is round and yellow and gives light to the whole room; and hangeth moreover from the roof. Now that thing which we call the sun is like the lamp, only far greater and brighter. It giveth light to the whole Overworld and hangeth in the sky."
"Hangeth from what, my lord?" asked the Witch; and then, while they were all still thinking how to answer her, she added, with another of her soft, silver laughs: "You see? When you try to think out clearly what this sun must be, you cannot tell me. You can only tell me it is like the lamp. Your sun is a dream; and there is nothing in that dream that was not copied from the lamp. The lamp is the real thing; the sun is but a tale, a children's story."
"Yes, I see now," said Jill in a heavy hopeless tone. "It must be so." And while she said this, it seemed to her to be very good sense.
Slowly and gravely the Witch repeated, "There is no sun." After a pause, and after a struggle in their minds, all four of them said together, "You are right. There is no sun." It was such a relief to give in and say it.
"There never was a sun," said the Witch.
"No. There never was a sun," said the Prince, and the Marsh-wiggle, and the children.
For the last few minutes Jill had been feeling that there was something she must remember at all costs. And now she did. But it was dreadfully hard to say it. She felt as if huge weights were laid on her lips. At last, with an effort that seemed to take all the good out of her, she said:
"There's Aslan."
"Aslan?" said the Witch, quickening ever so slightly the pace of her thrumming. "What a pretty name! What does it mean?"
"He is the great Lion who called us out of our own world," said Scrubb, "and sent us into this one to find Prince Rilian."
"What is a lion?" asked the Witch.
"Oh, hang it all!" said Scrubb. "Don't you know? How can we describe it to her? Have you ever seen a cat?"
"Surely," said the Queen. "I love cats."
"Well, a lion is a little bit - only a little bit, mind you - like a huge cat - with a mane. At least, it's not like a horse's mane, you know, it's more like a judge's wig. And it's yellow. And terrifically strong."
The Witch shook her head. "I see," she said, "that we should do no better with your lion, as you call it, than we did your your sun. You have seen lamps, and so you imagined a bigger and better lamp and called it the sun. You've seen cats, and now you want a bigger and better cat, and it's to be called a lion. Well, 'tis a pretty make-believe, though, to say truth, it would suit you all better if you were younger. And look how you can put nothing into your make-believe without copying it from the real world, this world of mine, which is the only world. But even you children are too old for such play. As for you, my lord Prince, that art a man full grown, fie upon you! Are you not ashamed of such toys? Come, all of you. Put away these childish tricks. I have work for you all in the real world. There is no Narnia, no Overworld, no sky, no sun, no Aslan. And now, to bed all. And let us begin a wiser life tomorrow. But, first, to bed; to sleep; deep sleep, soft pillows, sleep without foolish dreams."
The Prince and the two children were standing with their heads hung down, their cheeks flushed, their eyes half closed; the strength all gone from them; the enchantment almost complete. But Puddleglum, desperately gathering all his strength, walked over to the fire. The he did a very brave thing. He knew it wouldn't hurt him quite as much as it would hurt a human; for his feet (which were bare) were webbed and hard and cold-blooded like a duck's. But he knew it would hurt him badly enough; and so it did. With his bare foot he stamped on the fire, grinding a large part of it into ashes on the flat hearth. And three things happened at once.
First, the sweet, heavy smell grew very much less. For though the whole fire had not been put out, a good bit of it had, and what remained smelled very largely of burnt Marsh-wiggle, which is not at all an enchanting smell. This instantly made everyone's brain far clearer. The Prince and the children held up their heads again and opened their eyes.
Secondly, the Witch, in a loud, terrible voice, utterly different from all the sweet tones she had been using up till now, called out, "What are you doing? Dare to touch my fire again, mud-filth, and I'll turn the blood to fire inside your veins."
Thirdly, the pain itself made Puddleglum's head for a moment perfectly clear and he knew exactly what he really thought. There is nothing like a good shock of pain for dissolving certain kinds of magic.
"One word, Ma'am," he said, coming back from the fire, limping, because of the pain. "One word. All you've been saying is quite right, I shouldn't wonder. I'm a chap who always liked to know the worst and then put the best face I can on it. So I won't deny any of what you said. But there's one thing more to be said, even so. Suppose we have only dreamed, or made up, all those things - trees and grass and sun and moon and stars and Aslan himself. Suppose we have. Then all I can say is that, in that case, the made-up things seem a good deal more important than the real ones. Suppose this black pit of a kingdom of yours is the only world. Well, it strikes me as a pretty poor one. And that's a funny thing, when you come to think of it. We're just babies making up a game, if you're right. But four babies playing a game can make a play-world which licks your real world hollow. That's why I'm going to stand by the play-world. I'm on Aslan's side even if there isn't any Aslan to lead it. I'm going to live as like a Narnian as I can even if there isn't any Narnia. So, thanking you kindly for our supper, if these two gentleman and the young lady are ready, we're leaving your court at once and setting out in the dark to spend our lives looking for Overland. Not that our lives will be very long, I should think; but that's small loss if the world's as dull a place as you say."
From The Silver Chair by CS Lewis
Going Home
I've been gallivanting and globe trotting lately...seems I've been gone from home for awhile. One weekend stop to teach a class left me with an appreciation for what home is, and now I have 3 more days to house sit on Salt Spring and I'm missing home...really missing home. My bed is calling me and my yard needs my attention. It's time for Spring cleaning, Spring purging, Spring sitting and Spring sleeping. It's time for more long walks down my beloved back roads and catching up on Herb Courses yet unfinished and tea with friends and breakfasts at Roberts and so many other things that are a part of my life on Gabriola. As Michael Buble so aptly wails in his song..."I Wanna Go Home".
But it is the going away that makes me appreciate the coming home. It is the adventure that makes me love the security of my own space. It is the "world as my home" that makes me appreciate the microcosm that is my very own. Home.
I'll be home soon to settle in for quite some time before meandering off again in search of...? I never know, but it's home I'm longing for right now.
But it is the going away that makes me appreciate the coming home. It is the adventure that makes me love the security of my own space. It is the "world as my home" that makes me appreciate the microcosm that is my very own. Home.
I'll be home soon to settle in for quite some time before meandering off again in search of...? I never know, but it's home I'm longing for right now.
Everything is Praise
I went for a walk on Salt Spring this morning. It was an old walk I took often when I lived there...a steep 20 minute climb and then 5 minutes back down to a Garry Oak grove beside the water and a tiny inlet with pebble beach hidden by a steep embankment. I was the only one out on the path this morning and when I got to the inlet I decided to go swimming. I had swum a few times a couple of summers ago, half naked, but always somewhat wary lest others showed up, even though it was quite out of the way. Today I stripped down to my birthday suit and braved the cold Canadian April waters for all of two minutes...it was good and tingly and brave and I loved it.
I stepped back out on the pebbles and let the morning air dry my skin, pulled my clothes back on and climbing up the embankment stood there for a moment before heading back up the hill and home...that's when it started...
First I noticed the daffodils, an entire hillside of them...yellow and white...nodding in the breeze coming off the water. They were so beautiful, all crowded together dancing. I said out loud, "How beautiful you are, Lord, and all of your creation, including me. How beautiful you are, Lord, and all of your creation, including me!" The joy came in and then was all around me and I looked up at the sky and the bare branches of a Garry Oak tree were above me and the design of the branches with their tiny new buds was pure poetry against the sky...beautiful! And the pine tree to the right and the sound of the wind across the water and the feel of it on my skin and in my hair, and the birds singing their songs in the tree and the plash of the water against the rocks...I worshiped along with nature. I worshiped because there was nothing else I COULD do. It was ALL praise around me. It was ALL praise! And then the eagle started singing and I was lost in love.
I experienced something profound today, and I'm not sure I will ever see the world around me the same again. I think I finally understand the words of Jesus when he was told to quiet the crowd that was worshiping him as He entered Jerusalem 2000 years ago..."If these do not praise me the rocks will cry out!"
The rocks ARE crying out...they've been crying out in praise since the very beginning of time. All of nature is praising...She has never stopped. The praise goes on when we sleep and when we ignore and when we are in despair. The praise is always there. The praise is always there...
How could I not see it? How wonderful I saw it today! My friends have told me my eyes are sparkling. I believe it. I have seen a miracle and it is praise!
April 3. 2014
I stepped back out on the pebbles and let the morning air dry my skin, pulled my clothes back on and climbing up the embankment stood there for a moment before heading back up the hill and home...that's when it started...
First I noticed the daffodils, an entire hillside of them...yellow and white...nodding in the breeze coming off the water. They were so beautiful, all crowded together dancing. I said out loud, "How beautiful you are, Lord, and all of your creation, including me. How beautiful you are, Lord, and all of your creation, including me!" The joy came in and then was all around me and I looked up at the sky and the bare branches of a Garry Oak tree were above me and the design of the branches with their tiny new buds was pure poetry against the sky...beautiful! And the pine tree to the right and the sound of the wind across the water and the feel of it on my skin and in my hair, and the birds singing their songs in the tree and the plash of the water against the rocks...I worshiped along with nature. I worshiped because there was nothing else I COULD do. It was ALL praise around me. It was ALL praise! And then the eagle started singing and I was lost in love.
I experienced something profound today, and I'm not sure I will ever see the world around me the same again. I think I finally understand the words of Jesus when he was told to quiet the crowd that was worshiping him as He entered Jerusalem 2000 years ago..."If these do not praise me the rocks will cry out!"
The rocks ARE crying out...they've been crying out in praise since the very beginning of time. All of nature is praising...She has never stopped. The praise goes on when we sleep and when we ignore and when we are in despair. The praise is always there. The praise is always there...
How could I not see it? How wonderful I saw it today! My friends have told me my eyes are sparkling. I believe it. I have seen a miracle and it is praise!
April 3. 2014
No Thinking Allowed!!!
I've been learning a lot lately...and...thinking toooooo much. I'm going to give myself a break and stop thinking for awhile...Again...good luck with THAT, Heather! I know I had some brilliant epiphany to share, but I had told myself I would stop with the thinking for awhile and just play and harvest herbs and sing my heart out. I need a BREAK from thinking and learning, even though I gotta say, "it's been a wild ride, but a good ride!"
So here's to a week of walks, and harvesting and teaching and eating good, healthy food...to chats with my brothers and sister on the phone and long, meandering conversations with David.
Here's to sleeping in with Miss Molly the dog, and reading random books and trying not to write too much...to videos and old movies and just a whole bunch of alone time...hot baths with lavender essential oil and nettle tea and lots of cream in my coffee...to an hour long nap on the floor, laying stretched out in the sun, to dandelion picking while I make up songs and sing them loudly.
A couple of random days working in the funky little clothing store in Ganges in exchange for clothes means I'm reasonably well dressed again. The only thing I'm thinking about right now is whether or not I should pour myself a deep hot bath again...for the third night in a row...yawn...
April 2, 2014
So here's to a week of walks, and harvesting and teaching and eating good, healthy food...to chats with my brothers and sister on the phone and long, meandering conversations with David.
Here's to sleeping in with Miss Molly the dog, and reading random books and trying not to write too much...to videos and old movies and just a whole bunch of alone time...hot baths with lavender essential oil and nettle tea and lots of cream in my coffee...to an hour long nap on the floor, laying stretched out in the sun, to dandelion picking while I make up songs and sing them loudly.
A couple of random days working in the funky little clothing store in Ganges in exchange for clothes means I'm reasonably well dressed again. The only thing I'm thinking about right now is whether or not I should pour myself a deep hot bath again...for the third night in a row...yawn...
April 2, 2014
Our Life is the Work
"'But no matter how much the mess and distortion make you want to despair, you can't abandon the work because you're chained to the bloody thing, it's absolutely woven into your soul and you know you can never rest until you've brought truth out of all the distortion and beauty out of all the mess - but it's agony, agony, agony - while simultaneously being the most wonderful and rewarding experience in the world - and that's the creative process which so few people understand. It involves an indestructible sort of fidelity, an insane sort of hope, and indescribable sort of ... well, it's love, isn't it? There's no other word for it ... And don't throw Mozart at me ... I know he claimed his creative process was no more than a form of automatic writing, but the truth was he sweated and slaved and died young giving birth to all that music. He poured himself out and suffered. That's the way it is. That's creation ... You can't create without waste and mess and sheer undiluted slog. You can't create without pain. It's all part of the process. It's in the nature of things. So in the end every major disaster, every tiny error, every wrong turning, every fragment of discarded clay, all the blood, sweat and tears - everything has meaning. I give it meaning. I reuse, reshape, recast all that goes wrong so that in the end nothing is wasted and nothing is without significance and nothing ceases to be precious to me.'"
Harriet March – fictional sculptor in Susan Howatch's 6th book in the Starbridge Series
Harriet March – fictional sculptor in Susan Howatch's 6th book in the Starbridge Series
Suffering and Life as Art - by Rob Bell (the heretic) - wasn't Jesus called a heretic too?
'Suffering produces a sort of art of elimination. And so it hurts. It can be painful. We wince. We cry. We bleed. And yet what's happening is the superfluous clutter is being removed so that we can get at the endless possibilities that have been in there the whole time. It's just that sometimes it takes suffering for there to be the art of elimination." Rob Bell
It's All Beautiful Music
I was recently emailing back and forth with an old friend and the discussion followed the thoughts of my previous blog...hurt and who I am as a person and blame and fault. When you are no longer a victim it seems these words are no longer a part of your vocabulary.
I have been experiencing some sadness these past few days...not a lot...just some fragments, like raggy scraps of mist lifting off an early morning pond. And I do not fight these sadnesses anymore, but allow their presence and observe.
I wrote to this friend the following..."We come to a point in our lives one day when we realize that it has all been orchestrated for us, and the real beauty is when we play along with the orchestra and see it for what it is, not separate instruments honking out their own bit of loneliness or odd musical phrasing, but one beautiful piece of music when it's all played together...SUCH a beautiful piece of music."
My God dwells within me, speaks from within me, saves me from within my own self by His Holy Spirit. Here, where he promised to be and speak and reside. He is NOT outside of me (except that he is IN everything and THROUGH everything). He plays me like an instrument and I would be praise.
March 31, 2014
I have been experiencing some sadness these past few days...not a lot...just some fragments, like raggy scraps of mist lifting off an early morning pond. And I do not fight these sadnesses anymore, but allow their presence and observe.
I wrote to this friend the following..."We come to a point in our lives one day when we realize that it has all been orchestrated for us, and the real beauty is when we play along with the orchestra and see it for what it is, not separate instruments honking out their own bit of loneliness or odd musical phrasing, but one beautiful piece of music when it's all played together...SUCH a beautiful piece of music."
My God dwells within me, speaks from within me, saves me from within my own self by His Holy Spirit. Here, where he promised to be and speak and reside. He is NOT outside of me (except that he is IN everything and THROUGH everything). He plays me like an instrument and I would be praise.
March 31, 2014
Coming Home to Myself
I have returned to Salt Spring for a week or so. I'm house-sitting for friends in the home I stayed in a couple of years ago. I had said yes to this gig before I even went to Mexico, and couldn't figure out why I'd do that so close on the heels of my trip, but after all that happened in Mexico I figured it was pre-ordained...a chance for me to process the Mexico trip and be alone and write and figure things out.
I unloaded the car and had a hot lavender bath then headed out for a walk at my beloved Burgoyne Bay. Molly recognized the smells and we eagerly headed down the path...I greeted the Hawthorne friends and noticed all the different herbs blossoming and asserting themselves...and then...that was it...hmmm...No attachment, no excitement. Done. I put my head down and finished the walk, trying to get some special joy out of it. Finally I stopped and did my "this moment" thing...
"Metallic, sharp, cold scent of water pouring down from Mt Maxwell, rushing to join the briny saltiness of Burgoyne Bay. I hear the incessant flowing of water. Buds everywhere - maple buds emerging from wintered-limbs, nettle pushing from ground, bright yellow skunk cabbage and softest green red huckleberry leaves. The taste in my mouth is cool, fresh, clear air, flowing past teeth and tongue and down into lungs, deep, deep into lungs. I feel warm sun and intermittent showers..."
But we can never return to same-ness. If we do return to "place" we are most certainly different and the change is obvious. Beyond first delight at seeing old plant friends here in Burgoyne, there is nothing else, just some memories of sadness around Basil (my dog)...I see his ghosted memory running ahead across shiny meadow and there are mixed remnants of joy and sorrow for me, remembering my journey of healing and Independence here on Salt Spring almost two years ago now, during my time of separation from my husband. How we lose these places, leave them far behind us. In moving on, it is impossible to ever really go back.
And so I carried on...took the car on some errands...belted out a song, "Turn Up the Music", and then...suddenly...it hit me... kind of upside the head...Whacko!
"You're not here to process and reconnect. You're here to say goodbye to one more fragment of yourself!" It was so real this knowing, I whooped and yelled in the car like a banshee...then laughed and laughed and (you guessed it) cried.
These past months have seen me revisit many places in my heart...saying goodbye to my father, my old fears around church, my places of abandonment as a child. More recently in tropical Mexico I revisited my childhood and found on that trip a piece of me that was joyful child and also a Heather that was dark and mistrustful. I could name at least 4 -5 fractured bits of Heather which I have left behind me in places of hurt and sadness and it seems I am finding them and saying goodbye, or maybe I'm inviting them all home...small child, abandoned at 6...Teenage daughter losing her father at 14. Widow at 32. Love lost at 33. Shunned from church at 39, Rejected by second husband at 48. No, I'm not feeling sorry for myself...at all...this was my perception of these events. And I no longer believe I am a victim. I feel the power of my true self gathering around me. I feel the laughter of God over my head and His delight as he watches His child find her way home to herself.
March 30, 2014
I unloaded the car and had a hot lavender bath then headed out for a walk at my beloved Burgoyne Bay. Molly recognized the smells and we eagerly headed down the path...I greeted the Hawthorne friends and noticed all the different herbs blossoming and asserting themselves...and then...that was it...hmmm...No attachment, no excitement. Done. I put my head down and finished the walk, trying to get some special joy out of it. Finally I stopped and did my "this moment" thing...
"Metallic, sharp, cold scent of water pouring down from Mt Maxwell, rushing to join the briny saltiness of Burgoyne Bay. I hear the incessant flowing of water. Buds everywhere - maple buds emerging from wintered-limbs, nettle pushing from ground, bright yellow skunk cabbage and softest green red huckleberry leaves. The taste in my mouth is cool, fresh, clear air, flowing past teeth and tongue and down into lungs, deep, deep into lungs. I feel warm sun and intermittent showers..."
But we can never return to same-ness. If we do return to "place" we are most certainly different and the change is obvious. Beyond first delight at seeing old plant friends here in Burgoyne, there is nothing else, just some memories of sadness around Basil (my dog)...I see his ghosted memory running ahead across shiny meadow and there are mixed remnants of joy and sorrow for me, remembering my journey of healing and Independence here on Salt Spring almost two years ago now, during my time of separation from my husband. How we lose these places, leave them far behind us. In moving on, it is impossible to ever really go back.
And so I carried on...took the car on some errands...belted out a song, "Turn Up the Music", and then...suddenly...it hit me... kind of upside the head...Whacko!
"You're not here to process and reconnect. You're here to say goodbye to one more fragment of yourself!" It was so real this knowing, I whooped and yelled in the car like a banshee...then laughed and laughed and (you guessed it) cried.
These past months have seen me revisit many places in my heart...saying goodbye to my father, my old fears around church, my places of abandonment as a child. More recently in tropical Mexico I revisited my childhood and found on that trip a piece of me that was joyful child and also a Heather that was dark and mistrustful. I could name at least 4 -5 fractured bits of Heather which I have left behind me in places of hurt and sadness and it seems I am finding them and saying goodbye, or maybe I'm inviting them all home...small child, abandoned at 6...Teenage daughter losing her father at 14. Widow at 32. Love lost at 33. Shunned from church at 39, Rejected by second husband at 48. No, I'm not feeling sorry for myself...at all...this was my perception of these events. And I no longer believe I am a victim. I feel the power of my true self gathering around me. I feel the laughter of God over my head and His delight as he watches His child find her way home to herself.
March 30, 2014
On Judgment of Others
David and I went to Mexico. You know that. This is us on the boat ride over to Yelapa...pure joy. But...9 days together can definitely bring out the angst and yes, we got "arsed off" at one another (He's a Brit and I'm learning some euphemisms). How easy it is to judge someone when you see them up close for an extended period of time. Suddenly the delight diminishes and you both are aware of what appears to be glaring and insurmountable oddities in the other...hmmm...
Even when one is determined to not repeat old relational habits, still there are subliminal responses that come from a place of non-realization. They emerge and are vomited before the thought is even there to process...good luck with that, Heather!
What I'm trying to get to is what I learned about judging another person's behaviour. There were two incidents in which I judged this lovely, and yes, sometimes irritating man (and yes, he gets to read this and he will laugh). The first was a judgment around trust. I saw something in him which frightened me. It was something I had never seen before, was a new experience to me and I judged it as evil. (don't ask right now). For the next few hours I watched him under lowered eyebrows, trying to make sense out of this experience. He was anti-christ incarnate and all other evil entities rolled into one...(OK, I'm kind of kidding - kind of). The other moment was when I saw him doing something I thought was unacceptable, and I called him on it. Big fight then ensued and it's no wonder, mistrust and judgment rolled into one. I wish I was brave enough and open enough to go into more detail, but I will desist for now.
The next day, after much weeping, we hit a stale mate...and the evening came and I decided I needed to go meditate and pray. Right away my judgment of what I thought was unacceptable came before my eyes and I realized with a shock that I had done the IDENTICAL thing myself...WAS doing it! YIKES! A few minutes later I identified the malevolent intent of that person, yes, Heather, who was staring with distrust from behind my eyes, thinking that what I had seen was unacceptable and dark, when in fact it was me who was dark with mistrust. I went to David and apologized.
I hope I'm making sense. I did an "exorcism" of sorts that night. I sat and talked to God about all the uncomfortable and negative thoughts and feelings I held within myself...resentment, mistrust, judgment, fears, rejection, hopelessness. I called them by name and told them to leave me...then I invited peace and joy and love and grace and "a good night's sleep" in to fill the spaces I had cleared. I felt the love of God flow over me like a river and I wept for awhile in that Embrace. Then came a tenderness for one another that was new and better and deeper in friendship.
I am aware that my judgments are not necessarily coming back on me as I thought, but that it is the darkness in myself that I see in others and name and judge. Would I even notice something in someone else that I do not fear and hate within myself?
I'm not sure if I've expressed myself the way I want to, but judgment has taken on a whole new light to me. When I am tempted to dislike something in someone else I stop (it's not always easy to catch it) and I think to myself...what in myself is making me not like this in another person? What is it that makes me judge them?
Christ did not come into the world to judge the world, but that the world through Him might be saved. Can I truly show the Love of God to others if there is even one iota of judgment in my thoughts and actions? Can I show the way to freedom from fear, and love of others if I am not free of these things myself? I think not. If I cannot walk my talk I am nothing...If I know all things, know all wisdom, even speak with the tongues of angels and have not love...I am a clanging cymbal...just noise.
I don't want to be noise. I want to be grace. I want to be Love.
March 29, 2014
Even when one is determined to not repeat old relational habits, still there are subliminal responses that come from a place of non-realization. They emerge and are vomited before the thought is even there to process...good luck with that, Heather!
What I'm trying to get to is what I learned about judging another person's behaviour. There were two incidents in which I judged this lovely, and yes, sometimes irritating man (and yes, he gets to read this and he will laugh). The first was a judgment around trust. I saw something in him which frightened me. It was something I had never seen before, was a new experience to me and I judged it as evil. (don't ask right now). For the next few hours I watched him under lowered eyebrows, trying to make sense out of this experience. He was anti-christ incarnate and all other evil entities rolled into one...(OK, I'm kind of kidding - kind of). The other moment was when I saw him doing something I thought was unacceptable, and I called him on it. Big fight then ensued and it's no wonder, mistrust and judgment rolled into one. I wish I was brave enough and open enough to go into more detail, but I will desist for now.
The next day, after much weeping, we hit a stale mate...and the evening came and I decided I needed to go meditate and pray. Right away my judgment of what I thought was unacceptable came before my eyes and I realized with a shock that I had done the IDENTICAL thing myself...WAS doing it! YIKES! A few minutes later I identified the malevolent intent of that person, yes, Heather, who was staring with distrust from behind my eyes, thinking that what I had seen was unacceptable and dark, when in fact it was me who was dark with mistrust. I went to David and apologized.
I hope I'm making sense. I did an "exorcism" of sorts that night. I sat and talked to God about all the uncomfortable and negative thoughts and feelings I held within myself...resentment, mistrust, judgment, fears, rejection, hopelessness. I called them by name and told them to leave me...then I invited peace and joy and love and grace and "a good night's sleep" in to fill the spaces I had cleared. I felt the love of God flow over me like a river and I wept for awhile in that Embrace. Then came a tenderness for one another that was new and better and deeper in friendship.
I am aware that my judgments are not necessarily coming back on me as I thought, but that it is the darkness in myself that I see in others and name and judge. Would I even notice something in someone else that I do not fear and hate within myself?
I'm not sure if I've expressed myself the way I want to, but judgment has taken on a whole new light to me. When I am tempted to dislike something in someone else I stop (it's not always easy to catch it) and I think to myself...what in myself is making me not like this in another person? What is it that makes me judge them?
Christ did not come into the world to judge the world, but that the world through Him might be saved. Can I truly show the Love of God to others if there is even one iota of judgment in my thoughts and actions? Can I show the way to freedom from fear, and love of others if I am not free of these things myself? I think not. If I cannot walk my talk I am nothing...If I know all things, know all wisdom, even speak with the tongues of angels and have not love...I am a clanging cymbal...just noise.
I don't want to be noise. I want to be grace. I want to be Love.
March 29, 2014
Life as Prayer
I have decided that life should be offered up as a prayer of surrender and gratitude. I am forming these words in my head as I type, one fingered, on my little iPad here in Mexico. I am looking over a blue ocean, surrounded by tropical vegetation and trees. I stepped out of the warm ocean not an hour ago, and finished a fresh tuna sandwich and banana. My 5th Margarita (in a week) is behind me, and I'm mulling over the Occurrences in my life over the past three months. I am drawn into this life of mine daily, no actor, but divine participant.
Over the past 50 years I have learned to polarize; to make events and people wrong and right, good and bad, evil and pure. This is no way to live a joyful and nonjudgmental life. The lessons, the knowing, the "eyes wide open" moments in these past months and years are so many that I'm trying to write them down to remember this astounding period in my life. I remember a few months ago writing about how I wanted to let it all roll off of me...I was referring to the judgments, the tightness, the expectations of myself and others. No, I'm not there yet, but I'm so much closer than I ever could have imagined.
There have been many situations in my life that elicit strong reactions Some with old relationships and some with new...generally my response to others' behaviour that I don't like is that strong reaction and then..."fucker"! Now, the reaction is still there, for a moment, for an hour, maybe even for a few hours, and then, by choice, there is love, acceptance, allowing and my own power comes flooding back in.
How would each one of my days look if every irritation was surrounded with love, respect and my own self love? What if every pain and so called "betrayal" was offered up as a prayer of love and gratitude for another opportunity to let go of control and embrace free will?
I was thinking about fear yesterday. I used to believe that fear of death was at the bottom of all fears, but I don't fear death, haven't for a bit, and yet there are still some fears around others' behaviour to me. I am knowing now, that at the root of all fear is the loss of control; not being able to control our own lives and others, or fear of being controlled by another person. The opposite of this, where freedom lies, is free will for myself and allowing others to be whoever they will be. Isn't this ultimately what God gave all of mankind in the Garden? As Christians we (or at least I) have always considered this to be the fall from grace...maybe, just maybe it was the fall TOWARD grace! The beautiful, beautiful gift of choosing, and then learning our way into The Presence through the consequences of our daily actions; actions and choices observed with profound Love and covered by an immense Grace.
And so I will offer up life's "inconsistencies" and mysteries and "pain" (which is only pain if we cannot see the good that is always present within the seed of suffering). I will daily offer these prayers up...if it is a person, then let them be my prayer. If it is an event or an emotion or a disappointment...let these be prayers, living sacrifices, or sacrifices of life...let all of my life be a fragrant, fragrant offering of joy and pain and rebellions gone awry; of shared moments and words not needed, of learning and listening and ignoring and running and finding. I am grateful, so grateful for the gift of life! I am learning not to fight sadness, tears and sorrows any more than I would fight joy, laughter and delight. I am learning to let every moment be experienced, let them flow through me, acknowledged with a deep respect, and then continue out of me. Every emotion is a gift, every experience a wonder, every moment the Kingdom of Heaven is brought near to me...if I will only see it. If I will only see.
March 26, 2014
Over the past 50 years I have learned to polarize; to make events and people wrong and right, good and bad, evil and pure. This is no way to live a joyful and nonjudgmental life. The lessons, the knowing, the "eyes wide open" moments in these past months and years are so many that I'm trying to write them down to remember this astounding period in my life. I remember a few months ago writing about how I wanted to let it all roll off of me...I was referring to the judgments, the tightness, the expectations of myself and others. No, I'm not there yet, but I'm so much closer than I ever could have imagined.
There have been many situations in my life that elicit strong reactions Some with old relationships and some with new...generally my response to others' behaviour that I don't like is that strong reaction and then..."fucker"! Now, the reaction is still there, for a moment, for an hour, maybe even for a few hours, and then, by choice, there is love, acceptance, allowing and my own power comes flooding back in.
How would each one of my days look if every irritation was surrounded with love, respect and my own self love? What if every pain and so called "betrayal" was offered up as a prayer of love and gratitude for another opportunity to let go of control and embrace free will?
I was thinking about fear yesterday. I used to believe that fear of death was at the bottom of all fears, but I don't fear death, haven't for a bit, and yet there are still some fears around others' behaviour to me. I am knowing now, that at the root of all fear is the loss of control; not being able to control our own lives and others, or fear of being controlled by another person. The opposite of this, where freedom lies, is free will for myself and allowing others to be whoever they will be. Isn't this ultimately what God gave all of mankind in the Garden? As Christians we (or at least I) have always considered this to be the fall from grace...maybe, just maybe it was the fall TOWARD grace! The beautiful, beautiful gift of choosing, and then learning our way into The Presence through the consequences of our daily actions; actions and choices observed with profound Love and covered by an immense Grace.
And so I will offer up life's "inconsistencies" and mysteries and "pain" (which is only pain if we cannot see the good that is always present within the seed of suffering). I will daily offer these prayers up...if it is a person, then let them be my prayer. If it is an event or an emotion or a disappointment...let these be prayers, living sacrifices, or sacrifices of life...let all of my life be a fragrant, fragrant offering of joy and pain and rebellions gone awry; of shared moments and words not needed, of learning and listening and ignoring and running and finding. I am grateful, so grateful for the gift of life! I am learning not to fight sadness, tears and sorrows any more than I would fight joy, laughter and delight. I am learning to let every moment be experienced, let them flow through me, acknowledged with a deep respect, and then continue out of me. Every emotion is a gift, every experience a wonder, every moment the Kingdom of Heaven is brought near to me...if I will only see it. If I will only see.
March 26, 2014
Reliving Childhood
4AM and I'm awake. Bright half-moon above me and the fading distant sounds of bass still pumping out of "party central", thankfully far enough away it hasn't hindered our sleep. I'm listening to the sound of waves below me, and I think about how many millennia the ocean has been here and done this very thing.
This being in Mexico is so similar to my childhood in the Philippines, the vegetation, the sounds, the humidity and warmth... I am here like a child reliving paradise, but without the rules and restrictions of my youth. I feel young, so young, I forget that I am nearing 51 years. My feet, wearing flip flops, dance down the trails and the waves sing to me. This is such a gift and I am grateful for this moment to know the possibilities there are in this life of mine. I know we cannot return to childhood, yet here I am in spirit. Perhaps we come full circle and I am a child again in the great arc of time. I am a child, a woman, a lover, a friend, a mother and a grandmother. How many lives do I experience as these personalities; these lives that are not separate, but merge, intersect, overlap and drag through one another? These lives that come without explanations and without forethought from me... I don't want to figure and sort, categorize and file, prepare and figure out. This ocean of God is all there is. Let me dissolve in The Great Embrace. Let me be lost in the expanse of God.
March 23, 2014
This being in Mexico is so similar to my childhood in the Philippines, the vegetation, the sounds, the humidity and warmth... I am here like a child reliving paradise, but without the rules and restrictions of my youth. I feel young, so young, I forget that I am nearing 51 years. My feet, wearing flip flops, dance down the trails and the waves sing to me. This is such a gift and I am grateful for this moment to know the possibilities there are in this life of mine. I know we cannot return to childhood, yet here I am in spirit. Perhaps we come full circle and I am a child again in the great arc of time. I am a child, a woman, a lover, a friend, a mother and a grandmother. How many lives do I experience as these personalities; these lives that are not separate, but merge, intersect, overlap and drag through one another? These lives that come without explanations and without forethought from me... I don't want to figure and sort, categorize and file, prepare and figure out. This ocean of God is all there is. Let me dissolve in The Great Embrace. Let me be lost in the expanse of God.
March 23, 2014
Fried cooking bananas
The View
Letting John O'Donohue Speak
"One of the loneliest aspects of time is transience. Time passes and takes everything away. This can be consoling when you are suffering and going through a lonely, searing time. It is encouraging to be able to say to yourself, This, too, will pass. But the opposite is also true when you are having a lovely time and are really happy; you are with the person you love and life could not be better. On such a perfect evening or day, you secretly say to your heart, God I wish this could continue forever. But it cannot; this, too, comes to an end. Even Faust begged the moment to stay: "Linger awhile, for you are so beautiful".
Transience is the force of time that makes a ghost of every experience. There was a never a dawn, regardless of how beautiful or promising, that did not grow into noontime. There was never a noon that did not fall into afternoon. There was never an afternoon that did not fade toward evening. There never was a day yet that did not get buried in the graveyard of the night. In this way transience makes a ghost out of everything that happens to us.
All of our time disappears on us. This is an incredible fact. You are so knitted into a day. You are within it; the day is as close as your skin. It is around your eyes; it is inside your mind. The day moves you, often it can weigh you down; or again it can raise you up. Yet the amazing fact is, this day vanishes. When you look behind you, you do not see your past standing there in a series of day shapes. You cannot wander back through the gallery of your past. Your days have disappeared silently and forever. Your future time has not arrived yet. The only ground of time is the present moment.
In our culture, we place great and worthy emphasis on the importance and sacredness of experience. In other words, what you think, believe, or feel remains a fantasy if it does not actually become part of the fabric of your experience. Experience is the touchstone of verification, credibility, and deep intimacy. Yet the future of every experience is its disappearance. This raises a fascinating question: Is there a place where our vanished days secretly gather? As a medieval mystic asked, Where does the light go when the candle is blown out? I believe that there is a place where our vanished days secretly gather. The name of that place is memory."
From Anam Cara - A Book of Celtic Wisdom by John O'Donohue
Transience is the force of time that makes a ghost of every experience. There was a never a dawn, regardless of how beautiful or promising, that did not grow into noontime. There was never a noon that did not fall into afternoon. There was never an afternoon that did not fade toward evening. There never was a day yet that did not get buried in the graveyard of the night. In this way transience makes a ghost out of everything that happens to us.
All of our time disappears on us. This is an incredible fact. You are so knitted into a day. You are within it; the day is as close as your skin. It is around your eyes; it is inside your mind. The day moves you, often it can weigh you down; or again it can raise you up. Yet the amazing fact is, this day vanishes. When you look behind you, you do not see your past standing there in a series of day shapes. You cannot wander back through the gallery of your past. Your days have disappeared silently and forever. Your future time has not arrived yet. The only ground of time is the present moment.
In our culture, we place great and worthy emphasis on the importance and sacredness of experience. In other words, what you think, believe, or feel remains a fantasy if it does not actually become part of the fabric of your experience. Experience is the touchstone of verification, credibility, and deep intimacy. Yet the future of every experience is its disappearance. This raises a fascinating question: Is there a place where our vanished days secretly gather? As a medieval mystic asked, Where does the light go when the candle is blown out? I believe that there is a place where our vanished days secretly gather. The name of that place is memory."
From Anam Cara - A Book of Celtic Wisdom by John O'Donohue
Residencia Polanco, Mexico City - March 19
Mexico City. Traffic. Traffic. Did I mention traffic? Sweet little hotel. A walk in the tropical rain. Purple trees!
Puerto Vallarta, Mexico - March 18, 2014
Mexico. Tropical plants. Iguanas dragging serpentine tails. Exotic bird calls. Smells of warm and wet and humidity. Bare arms and warm sun. Short skirts and flip flops. Bright colours. Bright food. Bright sun.
Fear and Naming Fear and Losing Fear
Can I tell you about my fear? Can I tell you about my terror of flying , my fear of abandonment, my fear of loss, of what others think of me? Can I relate to you my worries and my limitations and the times I said no to myself because I was afraid? Will you listen when I tell you about the small victories of living by myself on Salt Spring, and driving alone long distances and my struggles to learn to say no? And now, can you hear me tell you that just as miraculous as cancer being cured, or a lame man walking, or a blind person receiving back their sight, my fear is gone? Gone as though it was never there. Gone like the mist lifting off a morning meadow...gone.
I have avoided travel due to fear of flying. I have spent hours in the air...adrenal terror running up and down my arm like electricity for the duration of the flight. I have made deals with God, I have exercised mind over matter, I have taken herbs, I have practiced a stiff upper lip. This flight was sheer delight. David dropped off into immediate slumber and I was alone by the window almost the entire flight gazing down from 37,000 feet at the wonders of our planet, the beauty of the landscape and the enormity of its grace. What happened? Well, a few things...firstly I have been getting hell and fear of God out of my head lately, and secondly...well let me tell you a funny little story...how the last act played itself out.
I am an herbalist. I had a headache the other night. Occasionally I use allopathic medication. I had taken a drug for a particular issue and didn't want to mix it with Tylenol....so instead I took a tiny bit of tincture which I don't really like to make, but occasionally keep on hand for those people with severe arthritis pain...try to stay with me...it was "special" tincture. I took a tsp. It was too much...sheesh. Thank God David happened to be there for dinner. I have never been so high in my life! I don't like taking drugs, I don't like the way it feels to not have control of my mind. I don't like mind alternating substances! This was a complete accident, (or so I thought) but needless to say, it took me two hours to come back down...first there was the giddy laughing, then there was rolling, belly holding, deep deep laughter, then it got "dark"...and my paranoia kicked in, parading all my fears before me one after the other and I voiced them, named them, and realized they were all frauds. Not a one of them was true. My fear of others, my fear of flying, my fear of so many things. The next morning I had a good laugh, apologized to David and thanked him for seeing me through the episode, and walked away from the experience a different woman.
No, this does not mean I will be doing that again. It was an awful experience, but I'm beginning to realize nothing is ever an accident.
Lately I can't even explain what's happening to me any more, but the miraculous surrounds me. About 2 years ago I said to my Pastor, Alice, "I am so full of fear". More recently I had a good friend tell me the same thing. I think of certain scriptures, "God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of love and of power and of a sound mind." "Perfect love casts out fear." If there was no one in my world who could help me with these fears, it seems that someone "different" was sent to help me, and I am grateful in this moment, because there is no dependence on someone else as I lose these fears, but a certain sense of independence and power and a letting go of all control into the hands of God. I recognize fear as the need to control my own life, and this loss of fear is when I truly let go of control and let everything roll into the arms of God. When I feel like I have to control things, there is so much that I need to think about, worry about, fix, make other people do. When I let life happen, there is nothing to be done about it. I can let others travel their journey alongside me or not, watch the scenery and enjoy, REALLY enjoy the wonder that is life.
Flight
The moon is astonishing
Here above the clouds
Silver white with one star
In attendance
She is descending west
And rosy glow is growing in the east.
Rippled ocean of clouds far below wing span
Ocean above ocean
I am crying again
Because I am not afraid
And I am astonished by this
And the glory that is here
March 18, 2014
More Grace
I received another email from an old friend, a Christian pastor actually, who I had recently shared my blog with. I read it with amazement, then put my head in my hands and just wept. Kindness, true kindness, is a rare thing to come across. I don't think this friend agrees with everything I do or say, but she showed me beautiful, beautiful grace. In posting her email to me, however, I want to stress that although my reaction to the other one was decisive...I came to realize, even within the day, that making someone else wrong to make myself right is not a loving response. I am learning to not make others wrong. It is easy to polarize one another, to say "that is evil, but this is good"..."they are wrong and I am right", or even "I am wrong and they are right". I recently saw a video on "Flat Land". What it would be like for a three dimensional object to try to access a two dimensional world. It was quite fascinating. Also, in two dimensions you can draw a rectangle and a circle, and that is all they can be, a rectangle and a circle, but in a three dimensional world one object can be both a rectangle and a circle...just hold a marker up sideways...it's a rectangle...hold it with the end toward yourself...it's a circle. It's both...no argument. Apparently scientists are thinking they have found up to 11 dimensions...11! That's a long way from a three dimensional world. What if? What if? What if opposing thoughts were both OK? Just thoughts, a person's journey, a place where we're at in that moment.
One thing I know...I've been in that place of judgment - calling it love - I've done it to others...I can see myself still, doing the same thing. I have been shown how painful it is to receive this...AND now I'm being shown grace, and I have also been in a place of showing others grace, and I am receiving back the grace I've given, and it's beautiful, and it made me cry, and it gave me hope... LOTS of hope!
"Thank you so much for sending me your link. I do have to say it made me
> fall in love with you all over again :-) sounds like such a funny thing to
> say, but I think you will "get it" and not to say I ever stopped loving you
> but my love for you just felt deeper somehow. I love the way you process,
> your honesty, your hunger searching always for truth and more, for being
> real, for being really just you! As I read your journey it took me back
> through the years of our friendship and as I write this I do have to say
> Heather my life is so much richer because of you in it. We do not talk
> often or long but some how it seems for me my heart is always connected in a
> very deep way to yours. I read the email from a "friend" and it made me
> groan out loud .. Then I read your response of incredible grace and the way
> you wrote, there was a sweetness to it ... Like honey on the lip ... You do
> hear the voice of "the Father", that is evident in your writing, you have
> sought wisdom and it is evident that you have found "her" too. I pray
> Heather that you enjoy this season and that it will be medicine to your
> heart, soul and spirit. All we ever desire is to become "whole" in Christ
> ... You have gone through so very much and you have such tenacity to
> continue along your journey sharing it openly - pushing on to and expecting
> MORE, reaching out, grasping, hanging on ...... You are a dear friend and I
> just wanted to tell you that - I LOVE YOU :-) ...."
March 16, 2014
One thing I know...I've been in that place of judgment - calling it love - I've done it to others...I can see myself still, doing the same thing. I have been shown how painful it is to receive this...AND now I'm being shown grace, and I have also been in a place of showing others grace, and I am receiving back the grace I've given, and it's beautiful, and it made me cry, and it gave me hope... LOTS of hope!
"Thank you so much for sending me your link. I do have to say it made me
> fall in love with you all over again :-) sounds like such a funny thing to
> say, but I think you will "get it" and not to say I ever stopped loving you
> but my love for you just felt deeper somehow. I love the way you process,
> your honesty, your hunger searching always for truth and more, for being
> real, for being really just you! As I read your journey it took me back
> through the years of our friendship and as I write this I do have to say
> Heather my life is so much richer because of you in it. We do not talk
> often or long but some how it seems for me my heart is always connected in a
> very deep way to yours. I read the email from a "friend" and it made me
> groan out loud .. Then I read your response of incredible grace and the way
> you wrote, there was a sweetness to it ... Like honey on the lip ... You do
> hear the voice of "the Father", that is evident in your writing, you have
> sought wisdom and it is evident that you have found "her" too. I pray
> Heather that you enjoy this season and that it will be medicine to your
> heart, soul and spirit. All we ever desire is to become "whole" in Christ
> ... You have gone through so very much and you have such tenacity to
> continue along your journey sharing it openly - pushing on to and expecting
> MORE, reaching out, grasping, hanging on ...... You are a dear friend and I
> just wanted to tell you that - I LOVE YOU :-) ...."
March 16, 2014
Room for Grace
I have been writing many, many songs over the past 3-4 months. These songs have been a witness to my journey. One song has been in my heart and mind and on my lips. Over and over and over again I sit at the piano and belt it out...
There's been a sad, sad place deep inside me
Where dark memories sit in a pool of fear
And no one has seen the tears on my face
They've been running back down inside to that sad, sad place.
But today I' m gonna let the memories flow
Let them run like a river out of my soul
Today I' m gonna let the sadness go
Clearing out a space
Let the memories run like a river down my face.
There's been a deep, deep well
Too deep to tell what all the memories are that haunt me
And I' m tired of sinking down in that cold,dark water again
Tired of the deep, deep well.
But today I'm gonna let the memories flow
Let them run like a river out of my soul
Today I'm gonna let the sadness go
Clearing out a space
Leaving only room for grace.
SO LET THE JOY RISE!
LET IT LIFT ON NEW-FOUND WINGS TO THE SKY
LET THE SUN SHINE
SHINE ON MY FACE AND INTO THAT PLACE WHERE ALL THE DARKNESS WAS...
Today I 'm gonna let the memories flow
Let them run like a river out of my soul
Today I'm gonna let the sadness go
Clearing out a space
Leaving only room for grace
Wonderful grace
Amazing grace
Grace...
Heather Macleod copyright 2014 March 16
There's been a sad, sad place deep inside me
Where dark memories sit in a pool of fear
And no one has seen the tears on my face
They've been running back down inside to that sad, sad place.
But today I' m gonna let the memories flow
Let them run like a river out of my soul
Today I' m gonna let the sadness go
Clearing out a space
Let the memories run like a river down my face.
There's been a deep, deep well
Too deep to tell what all the memories are that haunt me
And I' m tired of sinking down in that cold,dark water again
Tired of the deep, deep well.
But today I'm gonna let the memories flow
Let them run like a river out of my soul
Today I'm gonna let the sadness go
Clearing out a space
Leaving only room for grace.
SO LET THE JOY RISE!
LET IT LIFT ON NEW-FOUND WINGS TO THE SKY
LET THE SUN SHINE
SHINE ON MY FACE AND INTO THAT PLACE WHERE ALL THE DARKNESS WAS...
Today I 'm gonna let the memories flow
Let them run like a river out of my soul
Today I'm gonna let the sadness go
Clearing out a space
Leaving only room for grace
Wonderful grace
Amazing grace
Grace...
Heather Macleod copyright 2014 March 16
A Modern Psalm 2 (re-posted from November 2012)
I am re-posting this Psalm I wrote about a year and a half ago. It was shortly after my husband had been restored to me and I thought my miracle had truly arrived. But life doesn't always go as we expect (has anyone else noticed this? chuckle) and my "miracle" dissolved a year later...or so I thought.
I am learning that every day is a miracle if I will see it. And no, I am not talking about this current relationship I am in, although it certainly has its own flavour of the miraculous. I am talking about all of my life, all of my lessons, all of my mistakes, which are perhaps not really mistakes in the end. I am talking about the miracle of the love of God towards me, the love that surrounds me 24 hours a day, this love that pours out beauty in profusion over my head, this love that is beyond my comprehension. God's love for me!
I am learning that every day is a miracle if I will see it. And no, I am not talking about this current relationship I am in, although it certainly has its own flavour of the miraculous. I am talking about all of my life, all of my lessons, all of my mistakes, which are perhaps not really mistakes in the end. I am talking about the miracle of the love of God towards me, the love that surrounds me 24 hours a day, this love that pours out beauty in profusion over my head, this love that is beyond my comprehension. God's love for me!
The Lord has been good to me
How many and varied are all His ways!
He has been to me a song of hope in the night
And of whispered grace throughout the day.
The Lord has planted for me fields of joy
In the ground of turmoil,
And brought forth harvests of rejoicing
From seasons of pain.
I will declare the unsearchable ways of my God
In tearing down, He has built up.
In burning away, He has refined and tempered
In the midst of weeping He has given laughter
And in taking much He has returned an abundance.
The Lord has set my feet on a beautiful path.
The way is kind before me.
The Lord has been good to me...
How many and varied are ALL His ways!
March 16, 2014
How many and varied are all His ways!
He has been to me a song of hope in the night
And of whispered grace throughout the day.
The Lord has planted for me fields of joy
In the ground of turmoil,
And brought forth harvests of rejoicing
From seasons of pain.
I will declare the unsearchable ways of my God
In tearing down, He has built up.
In burning away, He has refined and tempered
In the midst of weeping He has given laughter
And in taking much He has returned an abundance.
The Lord has set my feet on a beautiful path.
The way is kind before me.
The Lord has been good to me...
How many and varied are ALL His ways!
March 16, 2014
Who AM I?
I am not what I feel. I am not what I think. I am an observer of both and as such am able to better watch myself and listen to the messages I am hearing. When I discover that I am able to distance myself from these emotions which previously I had seen as my own true self, I am able to dissolve them as being simply that...emotions, thoughts, feelings...not necessarily my own self.
Is this where judgment stems from? This stew-pot of floating thoughts? Is this where my fears sit and plot together, brewing up new scenarios to present to me each day? I recently watched a video about self enquiry. It was quite fascinating as the speaker, Rupert Spira, began to deconstruct our emotions around the thought, "I am unhappy with..." The more we look into this FEELING of unhappiness, we begin to see it is not truly the objects of our seeming unhappiness that are making us unhappy, but simply a general FEELING of unhappiness which we like to APPLY to objects to give it some sort of context or meaning. The situations change, but our unhappiness still retains that same flavour of feeling.
Rupert suggests that unhappiness is simply a feeling outside of ourselves. We simply cannot say that "I" am unhappy, as the "I" that we think is unhappy is actually OBSERVING the unhappiness. It is NOT the unhappiness. I know, I know...stick with me. The question then arises. What is this "I" that is observing the feeling of unhappiness, and if "I" am not actually unhappy, then WHAT is the unhappy feeling and WHERE is it coming from and WHAT is it...exactly?
Rupert does a much better job of explaining this, but I have found it to be a lovely thing to stand outside of my emotions and observe them as such...just emotions, or "the committee", or "the voices".
My pastor, Alice, told me a couple of years back..."Learn to live above your emotions." She called it "walking in the Spirit", and as I began to do that, I noticed a slowly growing ability to be less controlled by the vagaries of feelings and thoughts...they are not reasonable. There is a peaceful place in being able to watch the antics of emotion, especially when I am the type of person who has often ridden the rollercoaster right along with these emotions.
Today I am in a peaceful place. I am learning. I may not always be able to perfectly live this way, but I am ON the way.
March 14, 2014
Is this where judgment stems from? This stew-pot of floating thoughts? Is this where my fears sit and plot together, brewing up new scenarios to present to me each day? I recently watched a video about self enquiry. It was quite fascinating as the speaker, Rupert Spira, began to deconstruct our emotions around the thought, "I am unhappy with..." The more we look into this FEELING of unhappiness, we begin to see it is not truly the objects of our seeming unhappiness that are making us unhappy, but simply a general FEELING of unhappiness which we like to APPLY to objects to give it some sort of context or meaning. The situations change, but our unhappiness still retains that same flavour of feeling.
Rupert suggests that unhappiness is simply a feeling outside of ourselves. We simply cannot say that "I" am unhappy, as the "I" that we think is unhappy is actually OBSERVING the unhappiness. It is NOT the unhappiness. I know, I know...stick with me. The question then arises. What is this "I" that is observing the feeling of unhappiness, and if "I" am not actually unhappy, then WHAT is the unhappy feeling and WHERE is it coming from and WHAT is it...exactly?
Rupert does a much better job of explaining this, but I have found it to be a lovely thing to stand outside of my emotions and observe them as such...just emotions, or "the committee", or "the voices".
My pastor, Alice, told me a couple of years back..."Learn to live above your emotions." She called it "walking in the Spirit", and as I began to do that, I noticed a slowly growing ability to be less controlled by the vagaries of feelings and thoughts...they are not reasonable. There is a peaceful place in being able to watch the antics of emotion, especially when I am the type of person who has often ridden the rollercoaster right along with these emotions.
Today I am in a peaceful place. I am learning. I may not always be able to perfectly live this way, but I am ON the way.
March 14, 2014
Am "I" REALLY Unhappy?
Something About the Ocean... (on not making others wrong, so I can be right)
Tonight I am embraced by love. Tonight I have driven home singing my heart out and weeping with joy. Tonight I am surrounded by God's love. I am not asking why. Tonight I am simply accepting.
It has been an interesting journey these past months and even years. I have, with determination, held onto a belief and experience that God will see me through everything I go through and set my feet on right paths for me.
Yesterday I reacted to a strong, correcting email. I reacted because there was something around this for me to react to. I am learning that strong reaction denotes insecurity. Aha! Yes, I am insecure. I am not unhappy with my reaction. However, I am also learning that it is not the way of love to make one person wrong so I can be right. My friend and I had some good email conversation and we are still friends.
So tonight I celebrate love as allowing each of us to be who we are in all our perfect imperfection, and I feel the smile of God. I have felt it all day, yes, right here in my very imperfectly perfect life. I pulled out an old worship CD and plugged it into the car stereo as I was driving home from dinner. I turned these words up and belted them out with the singers...
"Something about the ocean makes me rise up and praise
Something about the heavens makes me stand in awe again
Something about the sunrise reminds me of Your faithfulness
Something about the ocean and I'm lost in love again."
When this God is loving me...when this God ravishes me with mercy...when this God dances with me....how can I find wrong in others? I cannot. I can only love too.
March 13, 2014
It has been an interesting journey these past months and even years. I have, with determination, held onto a belief and experience that God will see me through everything I go through and set my feet on right paths for me.
Yesterday I reacted to a strong, correcting email. I reacted because there was something around this for me to react to. I am learning that strong reaction denotes insecurity. Aha! Yes, I am insecure. I am not unhappy with my reaction. However, I am also learning that it is not the way of love to make one person wrong so I can be right. My friend and I had some good email conversation and we are still friends.
So tonight I celebrate love as allowing each of us to be who we are in all our perfect imperfection, and I feel the smile of God. I have felt it all day, yes, right here in my very imperfectly perfect life. I pulled out an old worship CD and plugged it into the car stereo as I was driving home from dinner. I turned these words up and belted them out with the singers...
"Something about the ocean makes me rise up and praise
Something about the heavens makes me stand in awe again
Something about the sunrise reminds me of Your faithfulness
Something about the ocean and I'm lost in love again."
When this God is loving me...when this God ravishes me with mercy...when this God dances with me....how can I find wrong in others? I cannot. I can only love too.
March 13, 2014
Rejecting Judgment
I recently received an email in response to my query as to whether or not people wanted to remain on my email list...For anyone else who wishes to send emails, please know that I am not interested in any of these sort of condemning messages. This has been my life in the past...no more...no more!
"Please don't take me off your email list. I'm a bit concerned about you though, and I wouldn't be a true friend if I didn't remind you of what you already know, and what your conscience is already telling you about your relationship with _____. I've been where you are, and I feel your pain. To be loved and cared for by someone, but to know deep down inside that the relationship as it is can never be fully blessed by God is one of the worst kinds of torment.
I love intimacy and sex with the best of them, but the danger of openly flouting scriptural boundaries exposes you to self deception God's discipline. I've known His discipline, and it's not fun, or worth it. And yes, a loving God does discipline His children. How I wish I could go back and un-do all those wasted years. We never can, of course...
You have such a creative mind, and it has become a battleground of conflicting voices! I have no doubt that one of them is the still, small voice of the Holy Spirit... I hope it doesn't fade and grow silent from neglect. A conscience that is continually shunned eventually justifies and believes anything, and then what anchor do you have holding you to any kind of truth?
Your part of the world is inundated with New Age persuasions -- those which accept the teachings of Jesus because they're all about love, but reject the epistles because they're harsh and restricting. I hope there are people in your life to whom you've given the freedom to keep you tethered to Biblical truth.
I don't say these things from a position of condemnation, but rather as one who has been down that road and found utter hopelessness at the end of it. I realize I risk your rejection by saying these things, but if it comes to that, I'll still love you and pray for you, and I know that some day you'll remember what I've said.
God loves you too much to leave you to your own devices. You know that, Heather! He will pursue you as long and as far as He has to, to win back your whole heart, because He is so jealous of your love.
From someone who loves you..."
My first response was this...
"Thank you for your love, _____. As always, love is welcomed. However, you don't truly know me, nor all that I have been through over the past 30 years. Thank you so much for your honesty, it is ALWAYS appreciated, even if not always agreed with.
With great and genuine friendship!"
My second response was this... (with a couple of parts removed to protect the privacy of a few)
"Actually, now that I've had a bit of time to digest your sermon to me, I'd like to mention a few things. Firstly, our friendship is an old one, but not an up to date one. We are simply acquaintances now, I would say. I have enjoyed staying up to date on your family doings, but the deep down intimate workings of our hearts and minds have not been shared all these years.
Secondly, these voices I am hearing are less and less all the time, they are not getting louder. I appreciate that I don't have fear and hell in my head anymore, at least very little of it. I'm appreciating the messages of self hate and flagellation are diminishing. I'm appreciating that finally I am beginning to hear a bit of sanity and real love from my Heavenly Father. Yes, maybe it's taking an act of what would appear to be disobedience for me to finally experience this grace that I always tell everyone else about, yet have had such a hard time receiving into my own life and heart.
When I got pregnant when I was 18, got married to a jealous angry abusive man, had my baby, was the closest I've ever been to killing myself...I looked at myself in the mirror and said "Suck it up, Heather. You are paying for your sins. Live with it!" And I did, for 15 years, ....until.he died. I married another man, a Christian as well, who married me because "God told him to", ...but ultimately couldn't stay living with me for various reasons of his own...(leaving out details and fast forwarding, because I love this man and he is my dear friend) I hung in there with these relationships because it was the right thing for a Christian woman to do.
For 30 years probably the most sinful thing I have done is get a tattoo, because I was so afraid of the retribution of God on the head of His Beloved child, Heather. Interestingly, I never really considered the sins of judgment toward others, pride that I could tell others how they should behave, words of judgment towards my children, pride that I felt righteous, gossip, control of others, manipulation through my self righteous acts...to be sins that would make the heart of Father God REALLY want to reject me for, IF there is the possibility of rejection from the ONE who knows all my sorrow and pain.
God HAS my heart, and He always will. I'm just trying to come out of my religion and find the true faith that is waiting for me. I think about the scriptures and know that the ONLY time Christ is ever angry at anyone is when they are being religious and judgmental of others.
How I want to understand the hearts of ALL God's children, whether they have a full understanding of God or not. IF we think we know God, we are wrong, it is only His Grace and Love and Mercy that overlooks our lives of sheer stupidity and outrageous arrogance, when we think we know what God has planned for another person.
I see that my words are as strong as yours are. Part of my recovery is learning to stop being the nice Christian girl and to stop taking the judgments that have been sent my way REGARDLESS of whether I am behaving as a Christian should be or not. How we love to tell one another what to do. How much better if we could simply pray blessings on each other and allow the Holy Spirit to do His work.
Please do not pray for me soulish prayers. If you want to pray for me, please ONLY pray the blessings of the truth of the Holy Spirit to be dropped into my heart.
IF God wants to punish me, I will accept it, BUT I will accept it with a faith in Him that transcends the fear I have formerly carried in my heart, and probably I will try to go through my journey without the watchful eyes of those who are waiting for me to fail.
I am being honest with you about how your messages have come across to me. I am rejecting all of them, and saying, NO, I will not accept any more condemnation from any more well meaning Christian friends.
AND I'm actually glad you wrote what you did, because it's given me a certain clarity of mind and purpose. Thank you for catalyzing me.
I will wait on God. He will deliver me or not. He will be my friend or not. He knows the darkness AND the light in me. I have invited Him in to be involved with EVERY bit of it. No more hiding, no more pretending. Only reality. True Reality. Where can I go from His presence?"
Psalm 139:1-18
You have searched me, Lord,
and you know me.
You know when I sit and when I rise;
you perceive my thoughts from afar.
You discern my going out and my lying down;
you are familiar with all my ways.
Before a word is on my tongue
you, Lord, know it completely.
You hem me in behind and before,
and you lay your hand upon me.
Such knowledge is too wonderful for me,
too lofty for me to attain.
Where can I go from your Spirit?
Where can I flee from your presence?
If I go up to the heavens, you are there;
if I make my bed in the depths, you are there.
If I rise on the wings of the dawn,
if I settle on the far side of the sea,
even there your hand will guide me,
your right hand will hold me fast.
If I say, “Surely the darkness will hide me
and the light become night around me,”
even the darkness will not be dark to you;
the night will shine like the day,
for darkness is as light to you.
For you created my inmost being;
you knit me together in my mother’s womb.
I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made;
your works are wonderful,
I know that full well.
My frame was not hidden from you
when I was made in the secret place,
when I was woven together in the depths of the earth.
Your eyes saw my unformed body;
all the days ordained for me were written in your book
before one of them came to be.
How precious to me are your thoughts, God!
How vast is the sum of them!
Were I to count them,
they would outnumber the grains of sand--
when I awake, I am still with you.
March 12. 2014
"Please don't take me off your email list. I'm a bit concerned about you though, and I wouldn't be a true friend if I didn't remind you of what you already know, and what your conscience is already telling you about your relationship with _____. I've been where you are, and I feel your pain. To be loved and cared for by someone, but to know deep down inside that the relationship as it is can never be fully blessed by God is one of the worst kinds of torment.
I love intimacy and sex with the best of them, but the danger of openly flouting scriptural boundaries exposes you to self deception God's discipline. I've known His discipline, and it's not fun, or worth it. And yes, a loving God does discipline His children. How I wish I could go back and un-do all those wasted years. We never can, of course...
You have such a creative mind, and it has become a battleground of conflicting voices! I have no doubt that one of them is the still, small voice of the Holy Spirit... I hope it doesn't fade and grow silent from neglect. A conscience that is continually shunned eventually justifies and believes anything, and then what anchor do you have holding you to any kind of truth?
Your part of the world is inundated with New Age persuasions -- those which accept the teachings of Jesus because they're all about love, but reject the epistles because they're harsh and restricting. I hope there are people in your life to whom you've given the freedom to keep you tethered to Biblical truth.
I don't say these things from a position of condemnation, but rather as one who has been down that road and found utter hopelessness at the end of it. I realize I risk your rejection by saying these things, but if it comes to that, I'll still love you and pray for you, and I know that some day you'll remember what I've said.
God loves you too much to leave you to your own devices. You know that, Heather! He will pursue you as long and as far as He has to, to win back your whole heart, because He is so jealous of your love.
From someone who loves you..."
My first response was this...
"Thank you for your love, _____. As always, love is welcomed. However, you don't truly know me, nor all that I have been through over the past 30 years. Thank you so much for your honesty, it is ALWAYS appreciated, even if not always agreed with.
With great and genuine friendship!"
My second response was this... (with a couple of parts removed to protect the privacy of a few)
"Actually, now that I've had a bit of time to digest your sermon to me, I'd like to mention a few things. Firstly, our friendship is an old one, but not an up to date one. We are simply acquaintances now, I would say. I have enjoyed staying up to date on your family doings, but the deep down intimate workings of our hearts and minds have not been shared all these years.
Secondly, these voices I am hearing are less and less all the time, they are not getting louder. I appreciate that I don't have fear and hell in my head anymore, at least very little of it. I'm appreciating the messages of self hate and flagellation are diminishing. I'm appreciating that finally I am beginning to hear a bit of sanity and real love from my Heavenly Father. Yes, maybe it's taking an act of what would appear to be disobedience for me to finally experience this grace that I always tell everyone else about, yet have had such a hard time receiving into my own life and heart.
When I got pregnant when I was 18, got married to a jealous angry abusive man, had my baby, was the closest I've ever been to killing myself...I looked at myself in the mirror and said "Suck it up, Heather. You are paying for your sins. Live with it!" And I did, for 15 years, ....until.he died. I married another man, a Christian as well, who married me because "God told him to", ...but ultimately couldn't stay living with me for various reasons of his own...(leaving out details and fast forwarding, because I love this man and he is my dear friend) I hung in there with these relationships because it was the right thing for a Christian woman to do.
For 30 years probably the most sinful thing I have done is get a tattoo, because I was so afraid of the retribution of God on the head of His Beloved child, Heather. Interestingly, I never really considered the sins of judgment toward others, pride that I could tell others how they should behave, words of judgment towards my children, pride that I felt righteous, gossip, control of others, manipulation through my self righteous acts...to be sins that would make the heart of Father God REALLY want to reject me for, IF there is the possibility of rejection from the ONE who knows all my sorrow and pain.
God HAS my heart, and He always will. I'm just trying to come out of my religion and find the true faith that is waiting for me. I think about the scriptures and know that the ONLY time Christ is ever angry at anyone is when they are being religious and judgmental of others.
How I want to understand the hearts of ALL God's children, whether they have a full understanding of God or not. IF we think we know God, we are wrong, it is only His Grace and Love and Mercy that overlooks our lives of sheer stupidity and outrageous arrogance, when we think we know what God has planned for another person.
I see that my words are as strong as yours are. Part of my recovery is learning to stop being the nice Christian girl and to stop taking the judgments that have been sent my way REGARDLESS of whether I am behaving as a Christian should be or not. How we love to tell one another what to do. How much better if we could simply pray blessings on each other and allow the Holy Spirit to do His work.
Please do not pray for me soulish prayers. If you want to pray for me, please ONLY pray the blessings of the truth of the Holy Spirit to be dropped into my heart.
IF God wants to punish me, I will accept it, BUT I will accept it with a faith in Him that transcends the fear I have formerly carried in my heart, and probably I will try to go through my journey without the watchful eyes of those who are waiting for me to fail.
I am being honest with you about how your messages have come across to me. I am rejecting all of them, and saying, NO, I will not accept any more condemnation from any more well meaning Christian friends.
AND I'm actually glad you wrote what you did, because it's given me a certain clarity of mind and purpose. Thank you for catalyzing me.
I will wait on God. He will deliver me or not. He will be my friend or not. He knows the darkness AND the light in me. I have invited Him in to be involved with EVERY bit of it. No more hiding, no more pretending. Only reality. True Reality. Where can I go from His presence?"
Psalm 139:1-18
You have searched me, Lord,
and you know me.
You know when I sit and when I rise;
you perceive my thoughts from afar.
You discern my going out and my lying down;
you are familiar with all my ways.
Before a word is on my tongue
you, Lord, know it completely.
You hem me in behind and before,
and you lay your hand upon me.
Such knowledge is too wonderful for me,
too lofty for me to attain.
Where can I go from your Spirit?
Where can I flee from your presence?
If I go up to the heavens, you are there;
if I make my bed in the depths, you are there.
If I rise on the wings of the dawn,
if I settle on the far side of the sea,
even there your hand will guide me,
your right hand will hold me fast.
If I say, “Surely the darkness will hide me
and the light become night around me,”
even the darkness will not be dark to you;
the night will shine like the day,
for darkness is as light to you.
For you created my inmost being;
you knit me together in my mother’s womb.
I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made;
your works are wonderful,
I know that full well.
My frame was not hidden from you
when I was made in the secret place,
when I was woven together in the depths of the earth.
Your eyes saw my unformed body;
all the days ordained for me were written in your book
before one of them came to be.
How precious to me are your thoughts, God!
How vast is the sum of them!
Were I to count them,
they would outnumber the grains of sand--
when I awake, I am still with you.
March 12. 2014
Falling In Love with Myself
I just had my eyebrows tinted. Why? I don't know. Maybe because I used to do that, and I used to like it. But this will definitely be the last time. I think I have outgrown it. I am feeling like Groucho Marx at the moment and thankful they fade to a more normal hue in a couple of days. Every 3-4 months I have my hair re-streaked, slowly introducing more grey and when I'm feeling a bit "powerless" I put some mascara on...but all in all I'm a pretty natural girl. A few months back I had 3 separate people who did not know each other tell me, "Own your magnificence." or "You are magnificent." I laughed to myself and thought perhaps I should begin to listen.
Even though I am comfortable with the outer signs of aging, it has been a long struggle in my life to love myself. Lately with love lost and found and lost and found and lost and found and...you get the picture...I am becoming more and more intent on learning what it means to fall in love with myself. Even in this new relationship, it is easy to see how easily each one of us can slip into old patterns of neediness and sensitivity. I will not repeat this pattern.
There is a sovereignty in loving myself. A still place of being that cannot be removed by others. A loving space. But how? So many messages have written themselves in my heart and I have received them, planted them, watered them, harvested them. I find lately I am turning over of the earth of my heart and beginning the removial of each and every root of unloving that resides there!
John O'Donohue says... (are we sick of him yet? Of course not!) "Sometimes, it is easy to be generous outward, to give and give and give and yet remain ungenerous to yourself. You lose the balance of your soul if you do not learn to take care of yourself. You need to be generous to yourself in order to receive the love that surrounds you. You can suffer from a desperate hunger to be loved. You can search long years in lonely places, far outside yourself. Yet the whole time, this love is but a few inches away from you. It is at the edge of your soul, but you have been blind to its presence."
What might it look like to fall in love with myself? I think about how I might feel toward someone I love...First of all I would want to spend time with them...so I will give myself time, and not lose myself in another. I would want to give small gifts of love...so be it! I would want to say words of love...I will speak to myself kindly and lovingly. I would want to be loyal, to stick up for them when I hear others treating them badly, or talking about them badly. i would encourage them to stay away from bullies. Aha! I will do the same for myself.
I begin to see myself more clearly every day. I see that the judgments and difficulties I have with others are in fact the judgments and difficulties I have within myself. If I project anger and need on another it is the anger and need that I feel within myself. To fall in love with myself will be to fall in love with the world.
What if I truly recognize Christ in me? What if I truly recognize the potential of the God-force that has always permeated me? What if I recognize that I am indeed magnificent and begin to "own that magnificence"?
I am creating 4 agreements for falling in love with myself...
1) I am spending plenty of time with myself.
2) I am speaking words of love to myself.
3) I am giving gifts of love to myself.
4) I am being loyal to myself.
March 11. 2014
Even though I am comfortable with the outer signs of aging, it has been a long struggle in my life to love myself. Lately with love lost and found and lost and found and lost and found and...you get the picture...I am becoming more and more intent on learning what it means to fall in love with myself. Even in this new relationship, it is easy to see how easily each one of us can slip into old patterns of neediness and sensitivity. I will not repeat this pattern.
There is a sovereignty in loving myself. A still place of being that cannot be removed by others. A loving space. But how? So many messages have written themselves in my heart and I have received them, planted them, watered them, harvested them. I find lately I am turning over of the earth of my heart and beginning the removial of each and every root of unloving that resides there!
John O'Donohue says... (are we sick of him yet? Of course not!) "Sometimes, it is easy to be generous outward, to give and give and give and yet remain ungenerous to yourself. You lose the balance of your soul if you do not learn to take care of yourself. You need to be generous to yourself in order to receive the love that surrounds you. You can suffer from a desperate hunger to be loved. You can search long years in lonely places, far outside yourself. Yet the whole time, this love is but a few inches away from you. It is at the edge of your soul, but you have been blind to its presence."
What might it look like to fall in love with myself? I think about how I might feel toward someone I love...First of all I would want to spend time with them...so I will give myself time, and not lose myself in another. I would want to give small gifts of love...so be it! I would want to say words of love...I will speak to myself kindly and lovingly. I would want to be loyal, to stick up for them when I hear others treating them badly, or talking about them badly. i would encourage them to stay away from bullies. Aha! I will do the same for myself.
I begin to see myself more clearly every day. I see that the judgments and difficulties I have with others are in fact the judgments and difficulties I have within myself. If I project anger and need on another it is the anger and need that I feel within myself. To fall in love with myself will be to fall in love with the world.
What if I truly recognize Christ in me? What if I truly recognize the potential of the God-force that has always permeated me? What if I recognize that I am indeed magnificent and begin to "own that magnificence"?
I am creating 4 agreements for falling in love with myself...
1) I am spending plenty of time with myself.
2) I am speaking words of love to myself.
3) I am giving gifts of love to myself.
4) I am being loyal to myself.
March 11. 2014
The Call: Discovering Why You are Here - by Oriah Mountain Dreamer
I have heard it all my life,
A voice calling a name I recognized as my own.
Sometimes it comes as a soft-bellied whisper.
Sometimes it holds an edge of urgency.
But always it says: Wake up, my love. You are walking asleep.
There's no safety in that!
Remember what you are and let this knowing
take you home to the Beloved with every breath.
Hold tenderly who you are and let a deeper knowing
colour the shape of your humanness.
There is no where to go. What you are looking for is right here.
Open the fist clenched in wanting and see what you already hold in your hand.
There is no waiting for something to happen,
no point in the future to get to.
All you have ever longed for is here in this moment, right now.
You are wearing yourself out with all this searching.
Come home and rest.
How much longer can you live like this?
Your hungry spirit is gaunt, your heart stumbles. All this trying.
Give it up!
Let yourself be one of the God-mad,
faithful only to the Beauty you are.
Let the Lover pull you to your feet and hold you close,
dancing even when fear urges you to sit this one out.
Remember- there is one word you are here to say with your whole being.
When it finds you, give your life to it. Don't be tight-lipped and stingy.
Spend yourself completely on the saying.
Be one word in this great love poem we are writing together.
Copyright © 2006 by Oriah Mountain Dreamer.
A voice calling a name I recognized as my own.
Sometimes it comes as a soft-bellied whisper.
Sometimes it holds an edge of urgency.
But always it says: Wake up, my love. You are walking asleep.
There's no safety in that!
Remember what you are and let this knowing
take you home to the Beloved with every breath.
Hold tenderly who you are and let a deeper knowing
colour the shape of your humanness.
There is no where to go. What you are looking for is right here.
Open the fist clenched in wanting and see what you already hold in your hand.
There is no waiting for something to happen,
no point in the future to get to.
All you have ever longed for is here in this moment, right now.
You are wearing yourself out with all this searching.
Come home and rest.
How much longer can you live like this?
Your hungry spirit is gaunt, your heart stumbles. All this trying.
Give it up!
Let yourself be one of the God-mad,
faithful only to the Beauty you are.
Let the Lover pull you to your feet and hold you close,
dancing even when fear urges you to sit this one out.
Remember- there is one word you are here to say with your whole being.
When it finds you, give your life to it. Don't be tight-lipped and stingy.
Spend yourself completely on the saying.
Be one word in this great love poem we are writing together.
Copyright © 2006 by Oriah Mountain Dreamer.
A Dying Chicken and Kindness
Yesterday morning I woke up and went out to feed the chickens. One of them had been sick and I noticed the day before that it was looking particularly rough and made a note to talk to Josh about dispatching it the next day...poor little thing.
BUT I got busy and forgot about it, so was horrified when I saw it was laying outside in the rain by the coop...dead...or so I thought. Then it raised its little head...I wailed! I tried to quickly put it out of its misery with a shovel, but just couldn't bring myself to do this...Oh no, oh no, oh no! What to do? I wandered around weeping...not wanting to wake my son and his wife, as they have a new baby, and i didn't know what the night had been like for them...Finally I came inside and phoned my friend, David.
Poor man, to have a weeping woman wake him at 7, blubbering about a chicken...and this is what he said, "Go out to the dear little thing, pick her up and tell her it's OK to go. Hold her, that will make a difference to her." ACK! Hold a dying chicken?!?! I'm not very good at this sort of thing, but I put on a warm sweater, went out in the rain, gathered up the chicken and just held her, talking to her, (weeping quite loudly I might add) until I felt like I could wake my son up to put her out of her pain. I tried three times to do it myself, but just couldn't. This inability did not make me feel as though I was more compassionate than my son, only more cowardly. A memory kept coming back to my mind every time I lay the chicken down and raised the ax to her neck...what if it doesn't work and I hurt her more?
When i was a child we lived in the Philippines. There were many little rice birds there and they would build their nests in the jack-pines out of the long pine needles. The nests weren't very stable and would often fall out of the trees, leaving tiny, featherless baby birds lying at the bottom, cold, open to predators, suffering, dying. Often we children would rescue these birds and raise them. They would be the most delightful little companions as they grew older. One day I found a nest of birds on the ground that were so tiny I knew I couldn't help them. I was 8 or 9, and was well aware already of the suffering around me in the world. I realized these babies would suffer and so I decided I needed to put them out of their misery. A mercy killing was in order.
For those of you who grew up in the same place, let me paint the picture. I was sitting under the Pallesen's house, on their cement patio. I had the baby birds and a large rock. My intention was to quickly crush their heads so they would no longer be cold or hungry. I tried the first baby bird, thinking it would be nothing to quickly crush a tiny head...I mean this was a TINY head...maybe a centimeter...but that head wouldn't crush. I only managed to hurt that baby bird more. I remember tears running down my face as I tried to finish the job, but I just wasn't able to kill these birds. How tenacious life is. For all my good, good intentions I was only bringing more harm. Enter Anne Pallesen (she must have heard the weeping and pounding), who quickly removed the baby birds (seeing the ensuing psychosis unveiling itself on her patio) comforted me and sent me on my way. This memory has NEVER left me, and it came back with a vengeance when I thought of killing the chicken. All I could think of was that I would make the situation worse.
There is a knowing inside of me more and more, that so many of my actions today are based on my actions from the past. Why I react...How I react...When I react...
To be free of the past (if this is possible) would be to free myself from the memories that often haunt me...the memories that guide my decisions and responses in the present.
It was good to let this memory go. My daughter in law finally woke and opened the door to a deranged looking mother in law with red eyes and hair askew, holding a dying wet chicken in her arms. Josh got right on it. As my son took a sharp cleaver and quickly, kindly and efficiently sent that sweet little chicken into oblivion, I saw the kindness in this act...AND I saw the kindness in myself for not wanting to add more pain to an already sick chicken. I saw the kindness in David's advice as he listened to a wailing woman and also thought about that sick chicken laying in the rain. There was kindness in me as I overcame my fear and distaste and picked up that wet, dying, stinky chicken and loved it. There was a kindness in my grief. There was kindness in my son and his wife, Sarah, as they invited me over for coffee after and I was able to talk about my fears. There is kindness in the way we love one another and love these creatures and love ourselves when we mess up. There is kindness underneath.
One of my favorite poems, Kindness, written by Naomi Shihab Nye, came from actual events in South America, when she and her husband were on a bus which was stopped, people were robbed and one man was killed. She was left in a village by herself with no money as her husband hitch-hiked for help, not knowing whether he would be OK or not. The children in the village made friends with her, taught her how to beg for food until her husband made it back to her...kindness...it can be in every situation...Kindness.
Kindness
Before you know what kindness really is
you must lose things,
feel the future dissolve in a moment
like salt in a weakened broth.
What you held in your hand,
what you counted and carefully saved,
all this must go so you know
how desolate the landscape can be
between the regions of kindness.
How you ride and ride
thinking the bus will never stop,
the passengers eating maize and chicken
will stare out the window forever.
Before you learn the tender gravity of kindness,
you must travel where the Indian in a white poncho
lies dead by the side of the road.
You must see how this could be you,
how he too was someone
who journeyed through the night with plans
and the simple breath that kept him alive.
Before you know kindness as the deepest thing inside,
you must know sorrow as the other deepest thing.
You must wake up with sorrow.
You must speak to it till your voice
catches the thread of all sorrows
and you see the size of the cloth.
Then it is only kindness that makes sense anymore,
only kindness that ties your shoes
and sends you out into the day to mail letters and
purchase bread,
only kindness that raises its head
from the crowd of the world to say
it is I you have been looking for,
and then goes with you every where
like a shadow or a friend.
Naomi Shihab Nye
March 7, 2014
The Light of Honesty and the Death of Fear
Honesty and keeping things in the open and being transparent are all thoughts on my mind lately. What are the things in my life I want to keep secret and why? How does it serve me to have shame around certain things? Why do we often feel the need to hide certain aspects of our lives, as though somehow we think others will like us better if we only show those things we think others will approve of?
Honesty is one of the loveliest things in relationships. And relationships don't just refer to a significant other, but to every person I come in contact with in this world, every animal every plant and most definitely with the God who loves me.
I woke up this morning...too early...but maybe this was sitting in my head...and thought to myself about how many things in my life are coming out into the open for me to look at and deal with. How interesting the things which have even been hidden from myself...judgment of others, fears, neurosis, anxieties, resentments...how much better for them to be up and out of the deepest parts of my psyche then that they sit there festering!
There has been a slow delight, after the initial surprise, watching these fears and shames dissipate as they hit the sunshine, like early morning vapour rising from the ground and disappearing in the heat of day. When I turn the light of intention on these fears and old dark places within me, I come face to face with fear and realize there is NOTHING to fear...
"Ego-death does not mean the disintegration of the healthy ego, the ego we need in order to function in daily life. What dies in this process is the part of us that holds on to the illusion of control, the part of us that thinks we are running the show, that we are in charge. What disintegrates is the false identity that operates as though we are the center of the universe.” Christina Grof
March 5. 2014
Honesty is one of the loveliest things in relationships. And relationships don't just refer to a significant other, but to every person I come in contact with in this world, every animal every plant and most definitely with the God who loves me.
I woke up this morning...too early...but maybe this was sitting in my head...and thought to myself about how many things in my life are coming out into the open for me to look at and deal with. How interesting the things which have even been hidden from myself...judgment of others, fears, neurosis, anxieties, resentments...how much better for them to be up and out of the deepest parts of my psyche then that they sit there festering!
There has been a slow delight, after the initial surprise, watching these fears and shames dissipate as they hit the sunshine, like early morning vapour rising from the ground and disappearing in the heat of day. When I turn the light of intention on these fears and old dark places within me, I come face to face with fear and realize there is NOTHING to fear...
"Ego-death does not mean the disintegration of the healthy ego, the ego we need in order to function in daily life. What dies in this process is the part of us that holds on to the illusion of control, the part of us that thinks we are running the show, that we are in charge. What disintegrates is the false identity that operates as though we are the center of the universe.” Christina Grof
March 5. 2014
Hope
I watched a "healing" today...a balancing of chakras...whatever that is (I said to myself). I am a skeptic about many things. This doesn't stop me from observing, although I have to trust someone implicitly before I will allow them to pass any kind of energy on to me. ( I have a firm belief in the ability we have to pass our issues back and forth to one another via our hands, so I want to know the other person has a good vibe).
So...today I watched a healing...watched a woman go into the room tired and frustrated and in pain, watched and listened to the mellow and somewhat light-hearted interaction between her and the healer, and was witness to her emerging with the brightest, happiest eyes I had seen in a long time...moving easier and greatly encouraged...and all for no charge. I am encouraged that there is this kind of alternative treatment available to people here on the island.
I don't have much else to say about this, except that there is gratitude in my heart that I am able to let down a few of my previous judgments around these modalities. I remember it was just a few short years ago that I still felt worried about interacting too much with the trees and plants...I didn't want to be a Pantheist after all!...and yet, here I am, constantly blown away by the magnificence of God in every particle of nature I wander through.
I saw God in that woman's eyes...I saw delight, joy and hope. That is enough for me.
March 4. 2014
So...today I watched a healing...watched a woman go into the room tired and frustrated and in pain, watched and listened to the mellow and somewhat light-hearted interaction between her and the healer, and was witness to her emerging with the brightest, happiest eyes I had seen in a long time...moving easier and greatly encouraged...and all for no charge. I am encouraged that there is this kind of alternative treatment available to people here on the island.
I don't have much else to say about this, except that there is gratitude in my heart that I am able to let down a few of my previous judgments around these modalities. I remember it was just a few short years ago that I still felt worried about interacting too much with the trees and plants...I didn't want to be a Pantheist after all!...and yet, here I am, constantly blown away by the magnificence of God in every particle of nature I wander through.
I saw God in that woman's eyes...I saw delight, joy and hope. That is enough for me.
March 4. 2014
The Faces of Braga - David Whyte
Another amazing poem by David Whyte...my favorite lines toward the end...
"If only we could give ourselves to the blows of the carver's hands... Our faces would fall away until we, growing younger toward death every day, would gather all our flaws in celebration..." The Faces at Braga In monastery darkness by the light of one flashlight the old shrine room waits in silence. While above the door we see the terrible figure, fierce eyes demanding. "Will you step through?" And the old monk leads us, bent back nudging blackness prayer beads in the hand that beckons. We light the butter lamps and bow, eyes blinking in the pungent smoke, look up without a word, see faces in meditation, a hundred faces carved above, eye lines wrinkled in the hand held light. Such love in solid wood! Taken from the hillsides and carved in silence they have the vibrant stillness of those who made them. Engulfed by the past they have been neglected, but through smoke and darkness they are like the flowers we have seen growing through the dust of eroded slopes, their slowly opening faces turned toward the mountain. |
Carved in devotion
their eyes have softened through age and their mouths curve through delight of the carver's hand. If only our own faces would allow the invisible carver's hand to bring the deep grain of love to the surface. If only we knew as the carver knew, how the flaws in the wood led his searching chisel to the very core, we would smile too and not need faces immobilized by fear and the weight of things undone. When we fight with our failing we ignore the entrance to the shrine itself and wrestle with the guardian, fierce figure on the side of good. And as we fight our eyes are hooded with grief and our mouths are dry with pain. If only we could give ourselves to the blows of the carver's hands, the lines in our faces would be the trace lines of rivers feeding the sea where voices meet, praising the features of the mountain and the cloud and the sky. Our faces would fall away until we, growing younger toward death every day, would gather all our flaws in celebration to merge with them perfectly, impossibly, wedded to our essence, full of silence from the carver's hands. -- David Whyte from Where Many Rivers Meet ©1990 Many Rivers Press |
Kindness
Kindness is a soft-plumed angel
Silvered-wings shining in darker spaces
and hopes stumble forward in its presence
stumble forward to hope in kindnesses.
Kindness is a simple thing
a listening ear, attentive heart, gentle hands
And time...
Heather Macleod/2014
March 2, 2014
Silvered-wings shining in darker spaces
and hopes stumble forward in its presence
stumble forward to hope in kindnesses.
Kindness is a simple thing
a listening ear, attentive heart, gentle hands
And time...
Heather Macleod/2014
March 2, 2014
Wild Geese - Mary Oliver
You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.
from Dream Work by Mary Oliver
published by Atlantic Monthly Press
© Mary Oliver
Whiter Than Snow
Two days of snow, endlessly falling from thick grey skies. Falling, falling, falling...covering, recovering, covering. I am nothing if not honest and I must admit to a certain loss of religious thought and action as I recently embarked on a most glorious new love affair.
For me this having a lover outside of marriage is monumentally inappropriate behaviour, rife with guilt, confusion and questions...but also full of learning, joy, freedom, laughter and good will. I have discovered some deep seated fears residing in my psyche that I was truly not aware of and each one has been strutting its stuff on the stage of my disreputable-ness; fear of what others may think of me, fear of divine retribution poured out in wrathful cupfuls from the heavens ( not sure where this comes from, as I thought I believed in a loving God) and fear of getting old. I have also found pride looming large, judgment of others, arrogance and certainty of place, but most of all I have discovered there is a terror of hell that sits in my head. It is a hard, hard thing to get hell out of your head. Should any child ever have this knowledge presented to them? I think not. Fear of hell is hell itself. Fearing it is a waste of time, as you are already living it.
Back to the snow...I was stuck on another part of the island, had spent the night at my lover's house as the snow had prevented me from getting home...by afternoon, a couple more failed attempts at a steep hill and a vague need to be back in my own home prompted my decision to attempt a walk through the forest to get to the road my house was on. I set out with borrowed gloves, wearing my clothing from the night before, which included black sensibly-heeled boots, long socks, a long brown skirt and warm sweater, covered over with a bustled black Victorian-style coat and cashmere shawl.
I knew the path well and I thought the snow would be negligible in the forest under the trees, but I was wrong and I spent the next hour and a half wading through boot deep snow, slipping and falling up the hills, pushing aside endless branches which were drooping across the path, laden with wet, west coast snow. It wasn't long before I was covered with snow, dripping, bedraggled and beginning to look like some sort of character in a Gothic movie. - Victorian woman runs from lover and wanders through the forest hopelessly looking for shelter, before sinking wearily under a tree and slowly freezing to death. - Deserving of everything she gets, I might add. Don't laugh if you don't understand the insidious messages of divine retribution. Or maybe you should laugh, because I WAS laughing, and singing (to discourage any cougars) and was generally amused at my predicament.
Halfway home the enormity of my "failures" rushed over me, and I started to think about my loss of "goodness"...and anxiety and tears and grief for the past six months of things lost and confused and all muddled up took hold of me.
Now understand I was walking through an incredibly beautiful winter scene, pine trees and cedars loaded with snow...pathways of pristine white, accented with evergreen plants...wonder everywhere. I lay down on the pathway, tired and wet, legs and arms spread wide in the snow like a black-robed angel, watched the pure snow sift down out of the heavens covering my face and body with soft white flakes and I heard a quiet voice speak to my heart. "You don't have to be good. You just have to be Heather."
I lay there for awhile letting this sink in..." You don't have to be good. You just have to be Heather." Tears...of course. Then I got up and stumbled the rest of the way home through the beautifully clean white snow with those words on my lips. Over and over I repeated them ...You don't have to be good. You just have to be Heather...as I trudged through the very picture of perfection...snow. Wash me...and I...shall...be...WHITER...than snow. As I walked I picked up large handfuls of snow, and naming everyone who I had not felt good enough around, I threw them as far as I could from myself... and let go.
I'm curious about my inability in the past to feel much sorrow for (or even notice) doubt, pride, arrogance, fear. These are the things that have truly kept me away from the healing love of my Father's heart, and yet a loving relationship has me sliding into the jaws of hell fire. These, I'm quickly becoming aware of, are the thoughts of a mentally ill individual, one who has a distorted view of God and life and love; also one who has certainly had a lot of sorrow and loss, but face it, who hasn't?
I made it home, tired and happy, let the kids know I was OK, put the chickens to bed, gathered wood to warm the house, then finally...I stripped the wet clothing from my body and with it my childish fears. I took a black marker and wrote on my mirror. "You don't have to be good. You just have to be Heather." I think, finally, I may be truly coming home.
It's interesting to watch your finely polished and neatly stacked morals slide gently off the tipping shelf and land in a great heap of failure...and somewhat of a relief as well. This failure to live the piety of intention is a humbling but bracing shock to the lungs...quick intake, eyes wide with surprise and pride crumbles. Mr Pye put it beautifully, "After all, if one cannot fail with a smile one might as well not fail at all. Failure is glory, you see. It is success that looks so tarnished and jaded the next morning. It is failure that keeps its freshness. Failure is the thing. Success is finite, but failure is infinite. It is all rather wonderful, really."
February 25, 2014
Snow Dance
“The snow doesn't give a soft white damn whom it touches.” e.e. cummings
Snow! Crazy! Not here on the West Coast in February...sheesh! But it's beautiful and has me trapped delightfully inside with crackling fire, warm dog and cat, a glass of red wine and cold pizza. I ventured out in bare feet and ran on the lawn...4 inches high with snow...unconcerned of the chicken poo resting below the surface. (the chickens, btw, are unhappy with this turn of events). .I am becoming addicted to bare feet in the cold. Molly and I cavorted... I threw snow and Molly caught it and then we ran back to the house to warmth and calm. The black cat sits on the window sill and watches the snow come down...soon she will curl up in the corner close to the fire and sleep. I am happy, I am in love... I am peaceful today .
February 23, 2014
Snow! Crazy! Not here on the West Coast in February...sheesh! But it's beautiful and has me trapped delightfully inside with crackling fire, warm dog and cat, a glass of red wine and cold pizza. I ventured out in bare feet and ran on the lawn...4 inches high with snow...unconcerned of the chicken poo resting below the surface. (the chickens, btw, are unhappy with this turn of events). .I am becoming addicted to bare feet in the cold. Molly and I cavorted... I threw snow and Molly caught it and then we ran back to the house to warmth and calm. The black cat sits on the window sill and watches the snow come down...soon she will curl up in the corner close to the fire and sleep. I am happy, I am in love... I am peaceful today .
February 23, 2014
Belonging
I was recently asked by a friend to visualize my fantasy life. My fantasy life? My ideal life? What does that look like? It took me just a moment before a picture came to my mind; a long table on the lawn in the sunshine...spread with abundance... And around the table my children and their friends and family. There was someone with me as well, loving me...and the grandchildren ... running on the lawn and playing. There was no thought of fame or wealth or countries to be seen and adventures to be embarked upon. It was family, love and abundance.
Belonging...Be Your Longing...Be the Longing - Family and friends and love (most importantly, I am discovering, self-love) is at the bottom of this whole human experience...it is the foundation and the CENTER that we go out from and return to. How difficult if family is abusive and dysfunctional. The sense of belonging falters then. Where there is unconditional love in family, though, there is strength and satisfaction.
I am SO blessed to belong somewhere, to be WHERE my longing is, to BE my longings of place and family.
February 22, 2014
Belonging...Be Your Longing...Be the Longing - Family and friends and love (most importantly, I am discovering, self-love) is at the bottom of this whole human experience...it is the foundation and the CENTER that we go out from and return to. How difficult if family is abusive and dysfunctional. The sense of belonging falters then. Where there is unconditional love in family, though, there is strength and satisfaction.
I am SO blessed to belong somewhere, to be WHERE my longing is, to BE my longings of place and family.
February 22, 2014
Whalebone beach
Saying Goodbye to My Dad
Today I was informed I am a Hepatitis B carrier...still. This came as no real surprise, as I was identified with the same when I was 14. Hep B killed my dad that year, and both my sister and I were also identified as carriers. Interestingly, later lab results in my 20s came back negative, so I thought the original ones were a mistake, and have carried on with my life...for 30 years....
Here in Canada, Hep B appears to be on the highly communicable diseases list (I am now "in the system" and will be "receiving a call"), although it can only be spread by blood, and you can be immunized against it, so you just have to be mildly careful to keep yourself from getting it. My liver enzymes all look good, so I just am not too worried about this. Just a bit of third-world coming back to haunt me...so why was I crouched, sobbing on the floor? Why was I weeping great shuddering tears in the shower? It occurred to me quite suddenly as I stepped out of the shower that this was not about me...this was about my dad. Aha!
Losing my dad at 14 was probably THE most traumatic event of my life. He was my life, my God, my existence. Just to put this in perspective, I have hardly any memories of really interacting with my mom before I was 14 years old (when he died). I remember the night he died. I remember the tears. I remember my mom's fears around how he would die. I remember her saying it was an awful way to die, drowning in your own blood. I remember. And how I missed him when he was gone. How I longed to have his laughter and voice close again. I decided then that I would not think of him as dead, but only as gone for an extended period of time...and I got on with my life. I remember our gaily colored dresses at the funeral. How brave the Macleod children were! How bright their clothing...Heather in spring green, Glenda in red...and something died in me that day.
I think I have looked for my father in every man I have ever had a relationship with...thankfully not too many. I have looked for the stuff of myths. I think if my father, himself, had reappeared, HE couldn't even have lived up to my longing for unconditional love and acceptance. I had created a legend.
Back to the weeping in the shower, and the realization I was grieving my father's death...I got dressed and headed out...I was running an errand before going to a friend's for dinner. I was a few minutes early, so I headed off to Whalebone Beach for a quick peek before dinner.
Twilight was fast approaching, but I was delighted to see the tide was out and soft sand visible. I took off my sandals, hobbled across the large stones and stood there on the sand...feet in the water. Waves, solitude, a low flying eagle, skirts hitched high, wading out into the cold, cold sea. I laughed, and ran and prayed and sang, and walked, and then ran back and forth in the water, back and forth, back and forth. Finally I stopped, stood in the waves looking out across the Strait to the far off Rockies and wept. I saw each wave coming in contact with me as grace, wave after wave after wave of grace, grace, grace...and I said goodbye to my dad for good. Turning to head back up the beach I crouched on the sand and sobbed. I picked up one stone to remember and one to throw far from me. I was done.
How is it that these things come to us so unexpectedly, and then healing flows like a perfect river of grace out of our souls? How can we live so many years, not realizing the grief we carry within ourselves? How can we live for so long with so much sorrow? I don't really have answers, and does it matter, after all? Irish poet John O'Donohue says, "It is wise to allow the soul to carry on its secret work in the night side of your life. You might not see anything stirring for a long time. You might have only the slightest intimations of the secret growth that is happening within you, but these intimations are sufficient. We should be fulfilled and satisfied with them. You cannot dredge the depths of the soul with the meager light of self analysis. The inner world never reveals itself cheaply."
February 20, 2014
Here in Canada, Hep B appears to be on the highly communicable diseases list (I am now "in the system" and will be "receiving a call"), although it can only be spread by blood, and you can be immunized against it, so you just have to be mildly careful to keep yourself from getting it. My liver enzymes all look good, so I just am not too worried about this. Just a bit of third-world coming back to haunt me...so why was I crouched, sobbing on the floor? Why was I weeping great shuddering tears in the shower? It occurred to me quite suddenly as I stepped out of the shower that this was not about me...this was about my dad. Aha!
Losing my dad at 14 was probably THE most traumatic event of my life. He was my life, my God, my existence. Just to put this in perspective, I have hardly any memories of really interacting with my mom before I was 14 years old (when he died). I remember the night he died. I remember the tears. I remember my mom's fears around how he would die. I remember her saying it was an awful way to die, drowning in your own blood. I remember. And how I missed him when he was gone. How I longed to have his laughter and voice close again. I decided then that I would not think of him as dead, but only as gone for an extended period of time...and I got on with my life. I remember our gaily colored dresses at the funeral. How brave the Macleod children were! How bright their clothing...Heather in spring green, Glenda in red...and something died in me that day.
I think I have looked for my father in every man I have ever had a relationship with...thankfully not too many. I have looked for the stuff of myths. I think if my father, himself, had reappeared, HE couldn't even have lived up to my longing for unconditional love and acceptance. I had created a legend.
Back to the weeping in the shower, and the realization I was grieving my father's death...I got dressed and headed out...I was running an errand before going to a friend's for dinner. I was a few minutes early, so I headed off to Whalebone Beach for a quick peek before dinner.
Twilight was fast approaching, but I was delighted to see the tide was out and soft sand visible. I took off my sandals, hobbled across the large stones and stood there on the sand...feet in the water. Waves, solitude, a low flying eagle, skirts hitched high, wading out into the cold, cold sea. I laughed, and ran and prayed and sang, and walked, and then ran back and forth in the water, back and forth, back and forth. Finally I stopped, stood in the waves looking out across the Strait to the far off Rockies and wept. I saw each wave coming in contact with me as grace, wave after wave after wave of grace, grace, grace...and I said goodbye to my dad for good. Turning to head back up the beach I crouched on the sand and sobbed. I picked up one stone to remember and one to throw far from me. I was done.
How is it that these things come to us so unexpectedly, and then healing flows like a perfect river of grace out of our souls? How can we live so many years, not realizing the grief we carry within ourselves? How can we live for so long with so much sorrow? I don't really have answers, and does it matter, after all? Irish poet John O'Donohue says, "It is wise to allow the soul to carry on its secret work in the night side of your life. You might not see anything stirring for a long time. You might have only the slightest intimations of the secret growth that is happening within you, but these intimations are sufficient. We should be fulfilled and satisfied with them. You cannot dredge the depths of the soul with the meager light of self analysis. The inner world never reveals itself cheaply."
February 20, 2014
Grace
I am adding a rerun of an old blog post - because I'm thinking a lot about grace these days...
"At the bottom of it all...is the Grace...Is there another word with such a wealth of meaning? Graceful, gracefully, gracious, grateful, gratitude, grace...I am saved every day by Grace - the grace of forgiveness from God, forgiveness from friends, forgiveness from myself. The Grace of acceptance from God, acceptance from friends, acceptance from myself...The Grace of gratitude, the Grace of Creation and all her fluid beauty. The pure expression of Grace in kindness, given and received...
We are smitten, whacked, walloped...full in the face, hard in the gut...by beautiful Grace. The worlds, both apparent and transparent, are replete with it, packed full to bursting, spilling over, like bubbles in a bath that's too full! Grace... All I have to do is stuff my face in it and drink, bury my hands to my armpits. Never mind all that...Jump in, both feet, drown in it..."
Heather Macleod
This morning I read a beautiful prayer - written by Robert Lax, from a little book I found for free, One Hundred Graces. It is also titled "Grace
Grace before breathing, grace while breathing, grace after breathing, before eating, after eating, while eating.
Grace before each good and needed action, each activity, grace at every moment of our lives.
Grace before dying, grace before birth. Thanks and blessing to accompany every moment of our lives.
Graceful grace, grace grace-giving calls forth grace and gives thanks for blessings.
Grace is thanks, our thanks for every blessing.
Grace before dreaming, grace before sleep, grace while dreaming, grace in sleep.
Grace after dreaming, grace after sleep, grace for the blessing of dreams and sleep.
Grace is thanks, a thanks for blessing, a thanks for being able to thank for blessings,
for being so blessed, for being so graced as to be ever able to thank for grace.
Robert Lax
February 20, 2014
"At the bottom of it all...is the Grace...Is there another word with such a wealth of meaning? Graceful, gracefully, gracious, grateful, gratitude, grace...I am saved every day by Grace - the grace of forgiveness from God, forgiveness from friends, forgiveness from myself. The Grace of acceptance from God, acceptance from friends, acceptance from myself...The Grace of gratitude, the Grace of Creation and all her fluid beauty. The pure expression of Grace in kindness, given and received...
We are smitten, whacked, walloped...full in the face, hard in the gut...by beautiful Grace. The worlds, both apparent and transparent, are replete with it, packed full to bursting, spilling over, like bubbles in a bath that's too full! Grace... All I have to do is stuff my face in it and drink, bury my hands to my armpits. Never mind all that...Jump in, both feet, drown in it..."
Heather Macleod
This morning I read a beautiful prayer - written by Robert Lax, from a little book I found for free, One Hundred Graces. It is also titled "Grace
Grace before breathing, grace while breathing, grace after breathing, before eating, after eating, while eating.
Grace before each good and needed action, each activity, grace at every moment of our lives.
Grace before dying, grace before birth. Thanks and blessing to accompany every moment of our lives.
Graceful grace, grace grace-giving calls forth grace and gives thanks for blessings.
Grace is thanks, our thanks for every blessing.
Grace before dreaming, grace before sleep, grace while dreaming, grace in sleep.
Grace after dreaming, grace after sleep, grace for the blessing of dreams and sleep.
Grace is thanks, a thanks for blessing, a thanks for being able to thank for blessings,
for being so blessed, for being so graced as to be ever able to thank for grace.
Robert Lax
February 20, 2014
Chickens and Boundaries
Imagine eight large chickens hurtling toward you every time you step outside your door. I peek outside and RUN for the next house. It's hard being the GOD of chickens. They love what I can do for them, although they rarely consent to giving me a hug, or hang out with me in peaceful conversation. They WANT what I have to give them...food, shelter, food...did I mention food? Yet they give me what they can, beautiful large brown eggs...sometimes they are perfect offerings, resting pristine on a bed of hay, and other times they are slimed with excrement and need some extra care to clean them. I take the gifts, although they may be wondering why I am taking their potential babies...it's all a little twisted when you think about it too much, this interaction between creatures.
The other day I realized I had not closed my door tightly enough and the chickens were gathered around the open door. NO! I ran to the door and saw that none were inside. Good. I shut the door firmly and carried on. Next time I went into my house, however, I saw I had been too late. A few brave chickens had wandered in, deposited a few gifts of poop on my floor and wandered back out again. ACK!
I think too much. I know. But I was wondering if these chickens can teach me something about boundaries. I have a VERY large enclosure I am working towards keeping them in. I worry about them not having a happy life, so I let them wander freely...depositing free manure where ever they go...on my deck, my path, my lawn...my floor...sheesh! Do I allow others to do the same to me? Can there be a place of compromise between these two things? Do I worry too much about other people/creatures and their happiness, and forget about my own space, need for clarity, boundaries and general room for my own life?
I have a friend coming in a few days to take away the salal that hinders the chickens from getting around in their new enclosure. It's a win-win situation as she needs it for her goats and I'll have my enclosure cleared. I am looking forward to all of us being happy. The chickens will have a lovely big enclosure, protected from predators by tall trees and undergrowth and I will have a poop free lawn, and bare feet will be the choice of the day! Compromise can be a wonderful thing.
February 19, 2014
The other day I realized I had not closed my door tightly enough and the chickens were gathered around the open door. NO! I ran to the door and saw that none were inside. Good. I shut the door firmly and carried on. Next time I went into my house, however, I saw I had been too late. A few brave chickens had wandered in, deposited a few gifts of poop on my floor and wandered back out again. ACK!
I think too much. I know. But I was wondering if these chickens can teach me something about boundaries. I have a VERY large enclosure I am working towards keeping them in. I worry about them not having a happy life, so I let them wander freely...depositing free manure where ever they go...on my deck, my path, my lawn...my floor...sheesh! Do I allow others to do the same to me? Can there be a place of compromise between these two things? Do I worry too much about other people/creatures and their happiness, and forget about my own space, need for clarity, boundaries and general room for my own life?
I have a friend coming in a few days to take away the salal that hinders the chickens from getting around in their new enclosure. It's a win-win situation as she needs it for her goats and I'll have my enclosure cleared. I am looking forward to all of us being happy. The chickens will have a lovely big enclosure, protected from predators by tall trees and undergrowth and I will have a poop free lawn, and bare feet will be the choice of the day! Compromise can be a wonderful thing.
February 19, 2014
Everything is Beautiful!
When I read poems like Blessed Be (the one below this post), I am aware, suddenly, that all my own poetry is possibly shite in comparison. I think about Jeanette's ability to evoke such depth of feeling out of the human condition, finding beauty in each experience and I am enthralled...and I am overcome with the joy of words...and...I become shy to express my own words...because...hers are SO MUCH BETTER...
Aha! The comparison, the competition, the deciding that once again I have nothing anyone would want to hear.
I have a friend who likes to call these voices that make us small, these voices that inhabit the ego spaces of our mind, these voices that bring us down..."the committee". Does anyone else out there have a committee? Mine regularly have board meetings in my head. They tell me I am too much, too little, too big, not enough, not nearly enough...and I am learning to observe their opinion and move on.
I was thinking to myself, as I lay in my bed, snuggled under the covers watching the rain shower off cedar and pine limbs in the sunlight. I WANT a job, life career, past time, with the description "sees beauty in everything". I had never seen anything like this before. The sun was back-lighting the scene and there were so many raindrops falling off the trees that everything was a-shimmer. It was as though the entire forest outside my window had suddenly been decked with diamonds...dancing, dropping, sparkling, twinkling diamonds...clear cut, perfectly brilliant diamonds. I could see, in that moment, that a "real" diamond was not worth one penny more than one of those outside. We put value on the permanent, and undervalue the moment.
I am gifted to see beauty in almost anything and anyone. This is a gift I am deeply grateful for, and which has been called into question at times by friends. "What do you see in so and so?" "How can you put up with that?" I don't know. I guess I see the beautiful.
If I am deeply connected to nature, as a herbalist and a lover of God, then I will see beauty wherever I walk, and I will express my joy in that beauty. I will see beauty in my own personality and in my own words and expression. I am Heather. I will see beauty in Heather. There is certainly plenty of it to go around!
February 18, 2014
Aha! The comparison, the competition, the deciding that once again I have nothing anyone would want to hear.
I have a friend who likes to call these voices that make us small, these voices that inhabit the ego spaces of our mind, these voices that bring us down..."the committee". Does anyone else out there have a committee? Mine regularly have board meetings in my head. They tell me I am too much, too little, too big, not enough, not nearly enough...and I am learning to observe their opinion and move on.
I was thinking to myself, as I lay in my bed, snuggled under the covers watching the rain shower off cedar and pine limbs in the sunlight. I WANT a job, life career, past time, with the description "sees beauty in everything". I had never seen anything like this before. The sun was back-lighting the scene and there were so many raindrops falling off the trees that everything was a-shimmer. It was as though the entire forest outside my window had suddenly been decked with diamonds...dancing, dropping, sparkling, twinkling diamonds...clear cut, perfectly brilliant diamonds. I could see, in that moment, that a "real" diamond was not worth one penny more than one of those outside. We put value on the permanent, and undervalue the moment.
I am gifted to see beauty in almost anything and anyone. This is a gift I am deeply grateful for, and which has been called into question at times by friends. "What do you see in so and so?" "How can you put up with that?" I don't know. I guess I see the beautiful.
If I am deeply connected to nature, as a herbalist and a lover of God, then I will see beauty wherever I walk, and I will express my joy in that beauty. I will see beauty in my own personality and in my own words and expression. I am Heather. I will see beauty in Heather. There is certainly plenty of it to go around!
February 18, 2014
Blessed Be - Jeanette LeBlanc - http://www.rebellesociety.com/2012/08/27/blessed-be-your-longing-your-endless-ache-your-sharp-crystal-shatter-your-sea-glass-heart/
Blessed be your longing. Your endless ache. Your sharp crystal shatter. Your sea glass heart.
Blessed be the long, slow slide into desire. The swift plunging wound to the heart. The bleeding out onto the kitchen floor.
Blessed be the fierce of want and the howl of despair and the swan dive of surrender.
Blessed be the indignation of right and the never more naked of wrong.
Blessed be your strong smooth body and your roadmap of scars and brittle bones that give way under the weight of lives unlived.
Blessed be the unmet passion, the relentless boredom, the absolute certainty of regret.
Blessed be the sweet laughter. The hard fuck. The bitter fight. The soft of impossible forgiveness.
Blessed be the restless seeker. The relentless urgency. The unanswered call.
Blessed be the giving up. The hope unraveled. The void at the end.
The clenched fists and the desperate grasping and the way it all slides away when the time comes.
Blessed be your trembling breath and your strong knees. Blessed be your siren song and your briny tears and your frantic prayer.
Blessed be your violin body, your electric hipbone, your staircase ribs.
Blessed be your slaughtered dreams and your cynical projection. Blessed be your fire of initiation and your ritual of comfort. Blessed be your secret shame.
Blessed be your whispered confession. Blessed be your primal roar. Blessed be the rejection. The hollowed out, disregarded heart.
Blessed be the end of the rope, the absence of expectation, the way it all gives way eventually.
Blessed be the blood and guts and gore of it all.
Blessed be the emptiness of lust and the brutal havoc of love and the way peace grows in between cracks in cement.
Blessed be the dirty street corner hustle and the pretty surface of things and where they meet in the most sacred center.
Blessed be the harsh divinity. The winged flight. The salt skin. The symphony of lust. Blessed be the holy and the worship.
Blessed be the sacred mother. Blessed be the faithless edges. Blessed be the ritual of liturgy and agnostic faith.
Blessed be the profane and the provocation. Blessed be the solitary pilgrimage and the long journey home. Blessed be the one who contains herself.
Blessed be the truth that demands reckoning and the goodbye that wrenches long held secrets from behind closed lips. Blessed be the sucker punch bruises.
Blessed be smooth slide of sun behind the mountains. Blessed be the wise desert and the pounding sea.
Blessed be the sweet swell of words. The silent spaces between bodies. The ragged sigh of breath on bone.
Blessed be the poet and the poem and the one between them who has no words of her own.
Blessed be the plagiarism, the thievery, the rash disregard for origin, the gratitude for the beginning of things.
Blessed be our free fall into destiny. Our slow burn. Our consuming fire. Blessed be the breaking and becoming.
Blessed be the ugly. Blessed be the sweet sin. Blessed be the rage. Blessed be the grace. Blessed be. Blessed be. Blessed be.
In the end, all words are just another way to say Amen.
*****
taken from ...http://www.rebellesociety.com/2012/08/27/blessed-be-your-longing-your-endless-ache-your-sharp-crystal-shatter-your-sea-glass-heart/
Blessed be the long, slow slide into desire. The swift plunging wound to the heart. The bleeding out onto the kitchen floor.
Blessed be the fierce of want and the howl of despair and the swan dive of surrender.
Blessed be the indignation of right and the never more naked of wrong.
Blessed be your strong smooth body and your roadmap of scars and brittle bones that give way under the weight of lives unlived.
Blessed be the unmet passion, the relentless boredom, the absolute certainty of regret.
Blessed be the sweet laughter. The hard fuck. The bitter fight. The soft of impossible forgiveness.
Blessed be the restless seeker. The relentless urgency. The unanswered call.
Blessed be the giving up. The hope unraveled. The void at the end.
The clenched fists and the desperate grasping and the way it all slides away when the time comes.
Blessed be your trembling breath and your strong knees. Blessed be your siren song and your briny tears and your frantic prayer.
Blessed be your violin body, your electric hipbone, your staircase ribs.
Blessed be your slaughtered dreams and your cynical projection. Blessed be your fire of initiation and your ritual of comfort. Blessed be your secret shame.
Blessed be your whispered confession. Blessed be your primal roar. Blessed be the rejection. The hollowed out, disregarded heart.
Blessed be the end of the rope, the absence of expectation, the way it all gives way eventually.
Blessed be the blood and guts and gore of it all.
Blessed be the emptiness of lust and the brutal havoc of love and the way peace grows in between cracks in cement.
Blessed be the dirty street corner hustle and the pretty surface of things and where they meet in the most sacred center.
Blessed be the harsh divinity. The winged flight. The salt skin. The symphony of lust. Blessed be the holy and the worship.
Blessed be the sacred mother. Blessed be the faithless edges. Blessed be the ritual of liturgy and agnostic faith.
Blessed be the profane and the provocation. Blessed be the solitary pilgrimage and the long journey home. Blessed be the one who contains herself.
Blessed be the truth that demands reckoning and the goodbye that wrenches long held secrets from behind closed lips. Blessed be the sucker punch bruises.
Blessed be smooth slide of sun behind the mountains. Blessed be the wise desert and the pounding sea.
Blessed be the sweet swell of words. The silent spaces between bodies. The ragged sigh of breath on bone.
Blessed be the poet and the poem and the one between them who has no words of her own.
Blessed be the plagiarism, the thievery, the rash disregard for origin, the gratitude for the beginning of things.
Blessed be our free fall into destiny. Our slow burn. Our consuming fire. Blessed be the breaking and becoming.
Blessed be the ugly. Blessed be the sweet sin. Blessed be the rage. Blessed be the grace. Blessed be. Blessed be. Blessed be.
In the end, all words are just another way to say Amen.
*****
taken from ...http://www.rebellesociety.com/2012/08/27/blessed-be-your-longing-your-endless-ache-your-sharp-crystal-shatter-your-sea-glass-heart/
Seeing Beauty
What is it about each one of us that translates the ordinary things of this life, this earth, nature and people that surround us, into beauty? It is said that beauty is in the eye of the beholder. When I am looking inward all the time, I am not as inclined to see beauty, but when I gaze outward
I am surrounded and blitzed with the beautiful.
Did you know there is a tiny plant, if you take the time to get on your knees and part the grass, which offers the teensiest of perfect flowers, one blue and one pink. Why is this miracle so miniscule? Is this a lesson to me that the most beauty and wonder is only truly found when I pay attention?
Obsessive thoughts about myself remove beauty from the palette of my life. Allowing life to happen, slowing down, savouring the moments brings beauty flashing before my eyes continually. I find I am drawn to the patterns in the concrete and the flecks of white paint against old, moss covered boards. There is s silken sheen to the old steel gas pumps and the breeze is sensuous food. The gently rocking dock is sinuous, like an elongated serpent and the downy clouds, hanging low on the horizon are the softest quilts, embracing me, covering me, loving me.
The older I get, the more I realize I have been given the gift to see beauty in everything. I see it in all people, the faces around me, the failures and the faltering, and now as I mature I begin to see it in myself as well. It has not come without pain and I begin to realize that pain also carries its own beauty; its own dark-edged ecstatic glimmer.
I am heading into two weeks of personal down time. I booked this time off, not really sure of what I wanted to do with it. I thought I might go away, or do a a personal silence retreat, but I think I shall do nothing at all but be open to beauty in every moment. I will allow life to blast open my brain with its wonders. It is Spring time here on the West Coast. Tumult and sunshine, rain and clouds, warm breezes and cold nights. Maybe I'll take lots of barefoot walks, drink warm tea with friends, laugh with my grand daughter, sit in front of the wood stove at night, watching the curl of flame and the crack of the logs. Ah...how wonderful a life can be, regardless of sadness, regardless of challenge, when I open my eyes to beauty; when I find and touch this beauty every day.
February 15, 2014
Photo Credit - from Donald Reese Photography - http://reesephoto.me/category/photography/macro/
I am surrounded and blitzed with the beautiful.
Did you know there is a tiny plant, if you take the time to get on your knees and part the grass, which offers the teensiest of perfect flowers, one blue and one pink. Why is this miracle so miniscule? Is this a lesson to me that the most beauty and wonder is only truly found when I pay attention?
Obsessive thoughts about myself remove beauty from the palette of my life. Allowing life to happen, slowing down, savouring the moments brings beauty flashing before my eyes continually. I find I am drawn to the patterns in the concrete and the flecks of white paint against old, moss covered boards. There is s silken sheen to the old steel gas pumps and the breeze is sensuous food. The gently rocking dock is sinuous, like an elongated serpent and the downy clouds, hanging low on the horizon are the softest quilts, embracing me, covering me, loving me.
The older I get, the more I realize I have been given the gift to see beauty in everything. I see it in all people, the faces around me, the failures and the faltering, and now as I mature I begin to see it in myself as well. It has not come without pain and I begin to realize that pain also carries its own beauty; its own dark-edged ecstatic glimmer.
I am heading into two weeks of personal down time. I booked this time off, not really sure of what I wanted to do with it. I thought I might go away, or do a a personal silence retreat, but I think I shall do nothing at all but be open to beauty in every moment. I will allow life to blast open my brain with its wonders. It is Spring time here on the West Coast. Tumult and sunshine, rain and clouds, warm breezes and cold nights. Maybe I'll take lots of barefoot walks, drink warm tea with friends, laugh with my grand daughter, sit in front of the wood stove at night, watching the curl of flame and the crack of the logs. Ah...how wonderful a life can be, regardless of sadness, regardless of challenge, when I open my eyes to beauty; when I find and touch this beauty every day.
February 15, 2014
Photo Credit - from Donald Reese Photography - http://reesephoto.me/category/photography/macro/
Foggy Day at Silva Bay
What Do I Really Experience?
Quiet morning...heaters clicking...dog snoring. Scent of nettle tea, crumpets toasting. Pale sunlight outside windows on cedar branches. Light reflecting on my walls, filtered through wood smoke and swaying branches. White curtains hanging still in this silent house. Peace is here. Deep peace. I am aware, through lowered lashes of this still beauty around me, this moment of magic made of simple, simple, every-day things I love. To notice these moments; to taste, feel and experience each magic second, is to find myself truly alive.
I recently watched a video clip on Time and Death. The speaker was asking whether anyone has ever experienced the past. That seems a simple enough question. Our response would quickly be, why yes! Of course! But on second thought, No. We experience the moment now...and then we create a memory of the past; memories which are open to our own interpretation and then are remembered through the mist of time passing. Our only true experience is NOW. Our past and our future are constructed from memories and hopes.
This crumpet I just turned over under the broiler is a thing of the past, the warmth on my hand from the heat also fading into memory. I can not go back to a place I was and try to relive the moment I had. I can not recreate happiness that was. Each day, each moment, is a new chance to enjoy, allow, create happiness. It is enough.
I recently watched a video clip on Time and Death. The speaker was asking whether anyone has ever experienced the past. That seems a simple enough question. Our response would quickly be, why yes! Of course! But on second thought, No. We experience the moment now...and then we create a memory of the past; memories which are open to our own interpretation and then are remembered through the mist of time passing. Our only true experience is NOW. Our past and our future are constructed from memories and hopes.
This crumpet I just turned over under the broiler is a thing of the past, the warmth on my hand from the heat also fading into memory. I can not go back to a place I was and try to relive the moment I had. I can not recreate happiness that was. Each day, each moment, is a new chance to enjoy, allow, create happiness. It is enough.
The Gods Aren't Angry - Rob Bell
Finding a Laughing God
I have been shedding an angry God lately. It's funny to me that I never saw how much I feared punishment and public humiliation from just such a God. Yet, this past month it has become very apparent how much I still respond to life from a fearful, somewhat stunted point of view. I have memories of a church where individuals were stood up in public, told off and humiliated. I remember. I remember. I remember. It is coming back to me in waves, and yes...I remember. And I was an adult at this point in my life. How must this have affected my children? And what about my own childhood experiences?
What messages did I take in and make my own? What messages about how to behave, how to control myself, how to BE what others wanted me to be and ACT as others wanted me to act? I am curious about all of this, and yet not bitter at all. Life is what it is, we all have the fingerprints of our upbringing upon us. AND we create these same fingerprints on our own children. (I have a friend who says it is our DUTY as parents to make sure we mess our kids up enough so they have something to work on when they get older - I am amused) It is what we do with those fingerprints, how we wipe them off of ourselves, that decides who and what we will become as we age. This process has been terrifying at times, as rules and expectations can present a "safe" place, but, I am discovering this is seldom a peaceful place. If I return again and again to a place of deep sadness it must be coming from somewhere.
As I look at the old messages in my life and begin to shrug them off, I am finding a laughing God, and daily I become kinder to myself and more interested in those around me. I look at myself less, agonize over my failures less, despair less.
Who can understand the nature of God? Who can know, definitely? If Christ is the manifest image of God, then that is where I will look. I do not see an angry God when I see Christ. It is interesting to me how much my mind can understand and know this truth, and yet my heart can still return to that place of fear so quickly.
Ah, the vagaries of life and love and figuring out the whole wonderful mess of it! I am content today.
What messages did I take in and make my own? What messages about how to behave, how to control myself, how to BE what others wanted me to be and ACT as others wanted me to act? I am curious about all of this, and yet not bitter at all. Life is what it is, we all have the fingerprints of our upbringing upon us. AND we create these same fingerprints on our own children. (I have a friend who says it is our DUTY as parents to make sure we mess our kids up enough so they have something to work on when they get older - I am amused) It is what we do with those fingerprints, how we wipe them off of ourselves, that decides who and what we will become as we age. This process has been terrifying at times, as rules and expectations can present a "safe" place, but, I am discovering this is seldom a peaceful place. If I return again and again to a place of deep sadness it must be coming from somewhere.
As I look at the old messages in my life and begin to shrug them off, I am finding a laughing God, and daily I become kinder to myself and more interested in those around me. I look at myself less, agonize over my failures less, despair less.
Who can understand the nature of God? Who can know, definitely? If Christ is the manifest image of God, then that is where I will look. I do not see an angry God when I see Christ. It is interesting to me how much my mind can understand and know this truth, and yet my heart can still return to that place of fear so quickly.
Ah, the vagaries of life and love and figuring out the whole wonderful mess of it! I am content today.
NAMING LOVE TOO EARLY - a writing from David Whyte...
"Most of our heartbreak comes from attempting to name who or what we love and the way we love, too early in the vulnerable journey of discovery. We can never know in the beginning, in giving ourselves to a person, to a work, to a marriage or to a cause, exactly what kind of love we are involved with. When we demand a certain specific kind of reciprocation before the revelation has flowered completely we find our selves disappointed and bereaved and in that grief may miss the particular form of love that is actually possible but that did not meet our initial and too specific expectations. Feeling bereft we take our identity as one who is disappointed in love, our almost proud disappointment preventing us from seeing the lack of reciprocation from the person or the situation as simply a difficult invitation into a deeper and as yet unrecognizable form of affection." (I especially love this last line...) "The act of loving itself, always becomes a path of humble apprenticeship, not only in following its difficult way and discovering its different forms of humility and beautiful abasement but strangely, through its fierce introduction to its many astonishing and different forms, where we are asked continually and against our will, to give in so many different ways, without knowing exactly, or in what way, when or how, the mysterious gift will be returned."
January Thoughts
© David Whyte and Many Rivers Press
"Most of our heartbreak comes from attempting to name who or what we love and the way we love, too early in the vulnerable journey of discovery. We can never know in the beginning, in giving ourselves to a person, to a work, to a marriage or to a cause, exactly what kind of love we are involved with. When we demand a certain specific kind of reciprocation before the revelation has flowered completely we find our selves disappointed and bereaved and in that grief may miss the particular form of love that is actually possible but that did not meet our initial and too specific expectations. Feeling bereft we take our identity as one who is disappointed in love, our almost proud disappointment preventing us from seeing the lack of reciprocation from the person or the situation as simply a difficult invitation into a deeper and as yet unrecognizable form of affection." (I especially love this last line...) "The act of loving itself, always becomes a path of humble apprenticeship, not only in following its difficult way and discovering its different forms of humility and beautiful abasement but strangely, through its fierce introduction to its many astonishing and different forms, where we are asked continually and against our will, to give in so many different ways, without knowing exactly, or in what way, when or how, the mysterious gift will be returned."
January Thoughts
© David Whyte and Many Rivers Press
Life is Waiting For You
I'm thinking that as a society, we've corporately thrown off self responsibility yet again, and have trusted those who have told us we need pharmaceuticals to be happy.
The whole idea of what happy is has become lost. I spoke to a wonderful woman who had become quite sick and was weeping a lot. That's pretty understandable. You grieve when you have loss. She told me she had gone on an anti-depressant which helped her stop grieving. Not only did she not have grief, she no longer had joy either. She was simply numb. She went off the drug, was crying again, but also enjoying and appreciating her renewed capacity for joy.
I suppose to set ourselves free from the tyranny of pharmaceuticals, it starts with a faith in our own ability to process grief, and also to know that the act of processing grief is of ultimate importance to our mental and emotional health. In our weeping, we're able to relieve, let go, and let the sorrow run from us, so we're no longer dealing with that sorrow...or maybe it's there, but it's not shut down. It's open and raw and available to be looked at and discussed.
We are so careful and diplomatic and politically correct around pharmaceuticals. Somehow we've decided that those who are “educated” about chemicals know more than those of us who are educated by life. And we are a culture of numbness. We would rather be numb than feel pain. We would rather do without the extremes of emotion. I understand pain, and I understand hurt. I get it. Sometimes I feel like a broken heart never never goes away. But the moments of exquisite, all encompassing joy are far greater than the dark sorrows. I wouldn't feel them if I'd been on something. I'm glad I've rarely medicated my depression or my grief. Although, having said that, I did spend about three weeks during a very bad stretch, drinking copious amounts of red wine and watching zombie movies.
So can we learn to feel again? Can we hold the ripping, tearing grief that each one of us feels, if not daily, at some times in our lives, to carry it, to be open and vulnerable about it, to share with others and help them get through the extreme grief which is part of being human?
We grow from strength to strength and we understand as we go through the process that we aren't' just a physical body. We want to reduce everything to chemicals in this world. “Oh, it's a chemical depression”, or “It's a manic high.” Yes, I understand that chemicals are what our bodies are made up of, but we try to remove the spiritual. Oh, to consider that every moment is spiritual, the wind in the trees, the act of dipping my hands in soapy water, regardless of my enjoyment of them, that these things are simple things, and that we are privileged to be alive, privileged to be able to feel gut wrenching sorrow and ecstatic joy. And in those moments of pain the best anti-depressant has been gratitude. It's like a meditation or devotion for me to express gratitude. I think of everything, from the simple things like a flush toilet to wood smoke hanging heavy on the air. All the things that make this life precious. A child's smile, fresh flowers, pungent mint, hot cup of tea, rain on the roof. Every tangible beautiful, painful moment that is this life, unobstructed by a pharmaceutical prison.
Everything is Waiting for You
Your great mistake is to act the drama
as if you were alone. As if life
were a progressive and cunning crime
with no witness to the tiny hidden
transgressions. To feel abandoned is to deny
the intimacy of your surroundings. Surely,
even you, at times, have felt the grand array;
the swelling presence, and the chorus, crowding
out your solo voice You must note
the way the soap dish enables you,
or the window latch grants you freedom.
Alertness is the hidden discipline of familiarity.
The stairs are your mentor of things
to come, the doors have always been there
to frighten you and invite you,
and the tiny speaker in the phone
is your dream-ladder to divinity.
Put down the weight of your aloneness and ease into
the conversation. The kettle is singing
even as it pours you a drink, the cooking pots
have left their arrogant aloofness and
seen the good in you at last. All the birds
and creatures of the world are unutterably
themselves. Everything is waiting for you.
-- David Whyte
The whole idea of what happy is has become lost. I spoke to a wonderful woman who had become quite sick and was weeping a lot. That's pretty understandable. You grieve when you have loss. She told me she had gone on an anti-depressant which helped her stop grieving. Not only did she not have grief, she no longer had joy either. She was simply numb. She went off the drug, was crying again, but also enjoying and appreciating her renewed capacity for joy.
I suppose to set ourselves free from the tyranny of pharmaceuticals, it starts with a faith in our own ability to process grief, and also to know that the act of processing grief is of ultimate importance to our mental and emotional health. In our weeping, we're able to relieve, let go, and let the sorrow run from us, so we're no longer dealing with that sorrow...or maybe it's there, but it's not shut down. It's open and raw and available to be looked at and discussed.
We are so careful and diplomatic and politically correct around pharmaceuticals. Somehow we've decided that those who are “educated” about chemicals know more than those of us who are educated by life. And we are a culture of numbness. We would rather be numb than feel pain. We would rather do without the extremes of emotion. I understand pain, and I understand hurt. I get it. Sometimes I feel like a broken heart never never goes away. But the moments of exquisite, all encompassing joy are far greater than the dark sorrows. I wouldn't feel them if I'd been on something. I'm glad I've rarely medicated my depression or my grief. Although, having said that, I did spend about three weeks during a very bad stretch, drinking copious amounts of red wine and watching zombie movies.
So can we learn to feel again? Can we hold the ripping, tearing grief that each one of us feels, if not daily, at some times in our lives, to carry it, to be open and vulnerable about it, to share with others and help them get through the extreme grief which is part of being human?
We grow from strength to strength and we understand as we go through the process that we aren't' just a physical body. We want to reduce everything to chemicals in this world. “Oh, it's a chemical depression”, or “It's a manic high.” Yes, I understand that chemicals are what our bodies are made up of, but we try to remove the spiritual. Oh, to consider that every moment is spiritual, the wind in the trees, the act of dipping my hands in soapy water, regardless of my enjoyment of them, that these things are simple things, and that we are privileged to be alive, privileged to be able to feel gut wrenching sorrow and ecstatic joy. And in those moments of pain the best anti-depressant has been gratitude. It's like a meditation or devotion for me to express gratitude. I think of everything, from the simple things like a flush toilet to wood smoke hanging heavy on the air. All the things that make this life precious. A child's smile, fresh flowers, pungent mint, hot cup of tea, rain on the roof. Every tangible beautiful, painful moment that is this life, unobstructed by a pharmaceutical prison.
Everything is Waiting for You
Your great mistake is to act the drama
as if you were alone. As if life
were a progressive and cunning crime
with no witness to the tiny hidden
transgressions. To feel abandoned is to deny
the intimacy of your surroundings. Surely,
even you, at times, have felt the grand array;
the swelling presence, and the chorus, crowding
out your solo voice You must note
the way the soap dish enables you,
or the window latch grants you freedom.
Alertness is the hidden discipline of familiarity.
The stairs are your mentor of things
to come, the doors have always been there
to frighten you and invite you,
and the tiny speaker in the phone
is your dream-ladder to divinity.
Put down the weight of your aloneness and ease into
the conversation. The kettle is singing
even as it pours you a drink, the cooking pots
have left their arrogant aloofness and
seen the good in you at last. All the birds
and creatures of the world are unutterably
themselves. Everything is waiting for you.
-- David Whyte
Winter Walk
This moment
South wind in January bare feet on pine-strewn pathways squishing mud between splayed, cold toes Sun-embrace from bold blue sky on violet waves Earth-orchestra water on rocks, pushing stones wind magic through arbutus leaves my hair a whipping frenzy Wading in January waters skirts held high wave-polished pebbles underfoot and broken shells Broken is beautiful too. Heather Macleod - January 29/14 |
BAREFOOT
I have been barefoot today bruised my feet on pebbles and winter twigs baptized them in mud puddles and icy sea wandered soothing moss |
My Own Dear Home
Standing in the middle
I spin slow in circles
Here in the middle of my space
This is my happy place
My own dear home.
I turn 360
And gaze at cheery clutter
All I own is here
Within easy view
I could not want more
In fact, less would be better
Here in this beloved castle
Of soft pine floors
Unfinished walls
And dear air
Heather Macleod
January 16, 2014
I spin slow in circles
Here in the middle of my space
This is my happy place
My own dear home.
I turn 360
And gaze at cheery clutter
All I own is here
Within easy view
I could not want more
In fact, less would be better
Here in this beloved castle
Of soft pine floors
Unfinished walls
And dear air
Heather Macleod
January 16, 2014
Clothes...
Someone mentioned hippies the other day...and I was reminded of how I used to dress when I first came to Gabriola. I was a "wanna-be" hippie. But really, I was born about 10 years to late for that. I do, however, know that I love to be creative in the way that I dress. I think it is an extension of the artist in me. Now that Spring is on the way, I pulled out the pink velvet skirt and leather sandals, and found myself some big hoop earrings. Time to send the black winter clothing to the bottom of the drawer again.
When I first came to Gabriola I spent about 2 years designing and sewing clothing from organic cotton clothing. Some of it was my original designs and sold well, but most of it was pretty standard pants and tops. I think back to how afraid I was to simply trust my designing instinct. It was always my originals that sold the best, but I would continue to second guess my self, and make more "normal" clothing. Almost invariably those pieces would not sell as well.
In my 50s now, I'm pretty confident about the way I dress, and quite frankly, don't care if people like it or not. How I feel in my clothing is more important to me than how others perceive me...and I have fun while I'm at it.
I wonder if I can apply these feelings of self confidence to other things in my life...my music, my teaching, my ability to make good decisions in life?
It is a simple thing to me, this dressing myself, but I know there are others who despair of "finding their style". How can I translate this simplicity to other areas that I have created great fear and resistance around. I will apply my reason and logic to this problem (of course)...and probably won't come up with any sort of an answer, but will have great fun "angst-ing" over it.
Here's to great clothes, or possibly not so great, but most definitely the greatness of feeling great in them!
When I first came to Gabriola I spent about 2 years designing and sewing clothing from organic cotton clothing. Some of it was my original designs and sold well, but most of it was pretty standard pants and tops. I think back to how afraid I was to simply trust my designing instinct. It was always my originals that sold the best, but I would continue to second guess my self, and make more "normal" clothing. Almost invariably those pieces would not sell as well.
In my 50s now, I'm pretty confident about the way I dress, and quite frankly, don't care if people like it or not. How I feel in my clothing is more important to me than how others perceive me...and I have fun while I'm at it.
I wonder if I can apply these feelings of self confidence to other things in my life...my music, my teaching, my ability to make good decisions in life?
It is a simple thing to me, this dressing myself, but I know there are others who despair of "finding their style". How can I translate this simplicity to other areas that I have created great fear and resistance around. I will apply my reason and logic to this problem (of course)...and probably won't come up with any sort of an answer, but will have great fun "angst-ing" over it.
Here's to great clothes, or possibly not so great, but most definitely the greatness of feeling great in them!
Right Now
Butterfly
What are these spaces in our lives, where the expected stands aside for delight?
Some days I take the Christian ritual of Communion by myself. I mull over the symbolism as I eat the bread. I'm grateful for the sacrifice as I drink the wine.
I wonder about its modern significance to me as I apply the ancient words.
This morning, as I took my final sip of grape juice (I'd run out of wine), a tiny yellow butterfly spiraled down from the skylight above my head. Where, oh, WHERE is a butterfly coming from in the middle of January? It flitted and fluttered and came to rest on the edge of a book. I pulled it out of the shelf carefully, wonder-struck by this magic moment. The butterfly stayed, clinging to the binding of An Allegory of Love.
I have been thinking of love a lot lately; love for those I have allowed to hurt me, or those who I am irritated by, and the ones I want to judge, because their behaviour is less acceptable to me than my own. I am thinking about the burning process of love. The letting go, the shedding of hardness around my heart.
In that butterfly moment; tiny, fragile, magical - yet immediate, obvious, direct - I was reminded of God's perfect love for me,with the all-encompassing ability to love with depth and delight, intensity and magic.
I held the butterfly for awhile on my palm. It tasted my skin...so fae, so unreal... I took it outside and placed it on an evergreen huckleberry bush. There it stayed and the universe was present in its wings. The huckleberry became holy, and once again I am changed.
January 14, 2014
Some days I take the Christian ritual of Communion by myself. I mull over the symbolism as I eat the bread. I'm grateful for the sacrifice as I drink the wine.
I wonder about its modern significance to me as I apply the ancient words.
This morning, as I took my final sip of grape juice (I'd run out of wine), a tiny yellow butterfly spiraled down from the skylight above my head. Where, oh, WHERE is a butterfly coming from in the middle of January? It flitted and fluttered and came to rest on the edge of a book. I pulled it out of the shelf carefully, wonder-struck by this magic moment. The butterfly stayed, clinging to the binding of An Allegory of Love.
I have been thinking of love a lot lately; love for those I have allowed to hurt me, or those who I am irritated by, and the ones I want to judge, because their behaviour is less acceptable to me than my own. I am thinking about the burning process of love. The letting go, the shedding of hardness around my heart.
In that butterfly moment; tiny, fragile, magical - yet immediate, obvious, direct - I was reminded of God's perfect love for me,with the all-encompassing ability to love with depth and delight, intensity and magic.
I held the butterfly for awhile on my palm. It tasted my skin...so fae, so unreal... I took it outside and placed it on an evergreen huckleberry bush. There it stayed and the universe was present in its wings. The huckleberry became holy, and once again I am changed.
January 14, 2014
Shades of Euphoria
Euphoria - `Technically, euphoria is an affect, but the term is often colloquially used to define emotion as an intense state of transcendent happiness combined with an overwhelming sense of contentment. It has also been defined as an "affective state of exaggerated well-being or elation." The word derives from Greek εὐφορία, "power of enduring easily, fertility" (courtesy of Wikipedia)
OK...I`m not sure about the fertility bit, but I suppose if one is feeling fertile there could be a certain amount of euphoria involved...hmmm...
But...I digress so early in my blog post...
Tonight I am euphoric...the landscape is colored with my euphoria, velvet and pink and oh, so fertile with imagination and dreams. The choir was everything I was afraid of and everything I just didn`t expect.
So many people simply didn`t show up, and I didn`t really know what I was doing and ended up not playing the keyboard, and...and...and...
yet ...the drummer, new to me, stalwart soul who braved the ride across from Nanaimo with his kit trussed to a funky musicians dolly, was an angel in disguise, loaded with experience, good ideas and gentle, non-intrusive advice. I mean GOOD advice. I think I have found a good friend. The wonder kid, 13 years of coolness, stroked his electric guitar like a mature man, and the bass player was laid back and completely at home....we didn`t even NEED the keyboard.
Then in came the singers...only five showed up...but what a glorious five. I know I`m getting older at 50, but I just gotta say it., all but one were older than me, and yet...HOW they sang! One woman of strength, stature and prodigiously white hair rocked the verse.."Moses hit the water with a two by four" and OWNED it! I am in love! I am contrite. I am excessively gleeful. I am in a state of delight. We sang. I danced. My throat is done. I am euphoric.
And so I came home and took Molly for a walk in the moonlight...the road all velvet with soft fog, sifting chimney smoke and moonbeams. There is no line between the gravel road and the grassy verge. No line between the verge and the edge of forest, the edge of forest and the far off towering trees. It is as though the moonlight has melted all the edges together into this pulsing, living being. This road I walk on is magic tonight, Fat Molly in tow, and a magic ghost cat stalking behind us. I greet the cat and pick him up. He lets me. He rarely lets me. But it is magic tonight.
I am reading in Quantum science that our minds form a lot of what we see. That we can interact with our reality. i think the rose tint on the moon glow is placed there by me. The friendly ghost cat, the glowing road all plushy under my feet, the happiness of lit windows in my home, the black, black far off trees and this happy colour of euphoria.
OK...I`m not sure about the fertility bit, but I suppose if one is feeling fertile there could be a certain amount of euphoria involved...hmmm...
But...I digress so early in my blog post...
Tonight I am euphoric...the landscape is colored with my euphoria, velvet and pink and oh, so fertile with imagination and dreams. The choir was everything I was afraid of and everything I just didn`t expect.
So many people simply didn`t show up, and I didn`t really know what I was doing and ended up not playing the keyboard, and...and...and...
yet ...the drummer, new to me, stalwart soul who braved the ride across from Nanaimo with his kit trussed to a funky musicians dolly, was an angel in disguise, loaded with experience, good ideas and gentle, non-intrusive advice. I mean GOOD advice. I think I have found a good friend. The wonder kid, 13 years of coolness, stroked his electric guitar like a mature man, and the bass player was laid back and completely at home....we didn`t even NEED the keyboard.
Then in came the singers...only five showed up...but what a glorious five. I know I`m getting older at 50, but I just gotta say it., all but one were older than me, and yet...HOW they sang! One woman of strength, stature and prodigiously white hair rocked the verse.."Moses hit the water with a two by four" and OWNED it! I am in love! I am contrite. I am excessively gleeful. I am in a state of delight. We sang. I danced. My throat is done. I am euphoric.
And so I came home and took Molly for a walk in the moonlight...the road all velvet with soft fog, sifting chimney smoke and moonbeams. There is no line between the gravel road and the grassy verge. No line between the verge and the edge of forest, the edge of forest and the far off towering trees. It is as though the moonlight has melted all the edges together into this pulsing, living being. This road I walk on is magic tonight, Fat Molly in tow, and a magic ghost cat stalking behind us. I greet the cat and pick him up. He lets me. He rarely lets me. But it is magic tonight.
I am reading in Quantum science that our minds form a lot of what we see. That we can interact with our reality. i think the rose tint on the moon glow is placed there by me. The friendly ghost cat, the glowing road all plushy under my feet, the happiness of lit windows in my home, the black, black far off trees and this happy colour of euphoria.
Windows and Beyond...
I am thinking about windows tonight, because someone sent me this beautiful picture and made me smile. But more than windows, I am thinking about what is beyond the window; for there are many, many things beyond...
Tonight there is rain outside my window; the soft splash as it hits soggy earth; the tac-tac on steel roof and glass skylight. On nights like this I love to heap warm blankets on myself and sleep with the heat off and the windows open to hear this music.
Other days, on warm summer afternoons, the windows are portals to warmth and roses, hummingbirds, bees and brisk wind through sharply scented cedar trees; warming resins rising in the air, crushed herbs underfoot and the heady scent of lilac.
And then there are those best views through the window...the far flung landscapes, fading away into mystery. The ones that beckon me into the unknown and unknowable. These far landscapes remind me of so much that is still undiscovered in myself; and that I must yet be a courageous explorer in the landscape of my own spirit and heart.
And most certainly, I will need a hearty sense of adventure if I want to truly discover the outer bounds of my own delight and longings and far flung thoughts.
Tonight there is rain outside my window; the soft splash as it hits soggy earth; the tac-tac on steel roof and glass skylight. On nights like this I love to heap warm blankets on myself and sleep with the heat off and the windows open to hear this music.
Other days, on warm summer afternoons, the windows are portals to warmth and roses, hummingbirds, bees and brisk wind through sharply scented cedar trees; warming resins rising in the air, crushed herbs underfoot and the heady scent of lilac.
And then there are those best views through the window...the far flung landscapes, fading away into mystery. The ones that beckon me into the unknown and unknowable. These far landscapes remind me of so much that is still undiscovered in myself; and that I must yet be a courageous explorer in the landscape of my own spirit and heart.
And most certainly, I will need a hearty sense of adventure if I want to truly discover the outer bounds of my own delight and longings and far flung thoughts.
Emptying
I have been letting go for the past ten years or so. Who knew there was so much I was holding on to? And yet, daily, I find new things I still clutch at. Lately I've been contemplating the phrase "let it fall away". There is not so much action in this one...it is a simple place of surrender to the Wind I have always known; a passive allowing, and permission to blow away old leaves and dead twigs...permission for the extraneous to fall and leave the emptiness that makes room for the "longed for".
These longings that I have...they speak to me of something truer and bigger than the self I have known to this point. Can I allow old covers and masks to be torn away and step out of the "dragon skin" like Eustace? Can I allow the Lion to pierce my heart so deeply, tearing away the false, that there is nothing but true pink baby skin beneath?
I love to read the experiences of mystics and otherwise...the poet moments and the adventurer's victories, but more than that I want my own. I want my own burning bush, my own high and holy moments. I have nibbled around the edges of passion, and loved the aromas of ecstatic living. I have cracked open doors and peered into rooms.
Let me fling wide the doors and announce myself to ecstasy ... to the burning, and the great emptying. letting go of self, to find more of God and true-self in the process.
Free me, O High and Holy One, to dance with angels. For somewhere there is a white stone with my true name on it. There is a white stone...
"Are your ears awake? Listen. Listen to the Wind Words...I'll also give a clear, smooth stone inscribed with your new name, your secret new name." (Revelations - The Message)
These longings that I have...they speak to me of something truer and bigger than the self I have known to this point. Can I allow old covers and masks to be torn away and step out of the "dragon skin" like Eustace? Can I allow the Lion to pierce my heart so deeply, tearing away the false, that there is nothing but true pink baby skin beneath?
I love to read the experiences of mystics and otherwise...the poet moments and the adventurer's victories, but more than that I want my own. I want my own burning bush, my own high and holy moments. I have nibbled around the edges of passion, and loved the aromas of ecstatic living. I have cracked open doors and peered into rooms.
Let me fling wide the doors and announce myself to ecstasy ... to the burning, and the great emptying. letting go of self, to find more of God and true-self in the process.
Free me, O High and Holy One, to dance with angels. For somewhere there is a white stone with my true name on it. There is a white stone...
"Are your ears awake? Listen. Listen to the Wind Words...I'll also give a clear, smooth stone inscribed with your new name, your secret new name." (Revelations - The Message)