The Ultimate Initiation…

I’m so thankful today for the friends who surround me with their wisdom, with their soul searchings and learnings, who join with me, sharing their struggles, their dreams. And it strikes me that there is plenty. Plenty for all of us. We aren’t a bunch of siblings scrambling for the scraps or the best or the position of advantage unless we want to be. And oh how I don’t want to be. These words from Jamie Sams speak from the depths of what she beautifully calls the ultimate initiation…

“The ultimate initiation of a visionary or dreamer comes when that individual dreams of abundance for everyone. This selflessness is not an act of conscience, but rather an act of wisdom, forged from experience. If humans exist on our planet whose most basic needs are not being met, while others have more than they will ever need, something is drastically wrong.

Any dream that does not include everyone is a vision created from limited perception… If everyone is not considered worthy of having plenty, the Circle of Life is not being honored. If dreamers cannot see the unbroken family circle created by all life forms, they have not grown into their potentials nor ever really experienced the reality of Oneness.”

Jamie Sams – Earth Medicine, Ancestors’ Ways of Harmony for Many Moons

There are times when I feel inadequate, and even when I know I’ve just got so much more to learn. It can create that frenzied fear that someone will take a place I could’ve had, or gain a success that I won’t be able to have or. But that’s when I’ve forgotten what I should never forget. There. Is. Plenty. There is a place for each one of us right now, where we are, as we are. Here’s to our continued growth into that ultimate initiation…

Photo by Kate Stetler Holgate, Used by Permission

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Heart – A Lyre

Heat hold held here so
fully filling every jive alive,
reaching,
singing,
humming,
overflowing this precious,
pulsing power-yielding.

Every ounce receptive,
receptive,
receptive…
shine me down the up afire,
flow me through the heart – a lyre,

life so sweet.
Photo by Kate Stetler Holgate, Used by Permission

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Creating Verse

Phil Rockstroh, rockin’ the truth . . .

“Both fundamentalist religious types and reductionist materialist true believers both are anthropocentric in their concept of divinity–both insist the language of the cosmos speak the language of man–whether it be religious dogma or scientific lexicon. The closer one comes to approaching the sublime…the more deeply the recognition arrives that it communicates (impersonally) by way of symbolic speech–the thoughts of the heart–visions, dreams, poetic insights. To insist that the cosmos speak our language is to ghettoize the soul of the world…The act imprisons one in a concretized belief system. Notice how fond both atheists and fundies are of the words “only” and “just.” While religious types eye the distant heavens–believing life on earth is merely a dismal slog through mortal sin–only the pathetic acts of fallen man, reductionist insist our dreams, visions, imaginings are only fantasies–just metaphysical piffle. Both, in short, have an abundance of hubris squatting in the place their heart should occupy. This makes them very testy…a trait of folks who live in cramped quarters of concretized belief. My suggestion: Open a window…

eavesdrop

on the cosmos as it is creating verse.” Phil Rockstroh

Found here: http://on.fb.me/vYdTiB

Emphasis and breakdown of final words are mine.

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SoulBloom…

seed, spec, bindu spent ‘neath the grime, the grit, oh god, we know it as dirt,
and this groping eruption broke me out of death, spread tendrils deep…
reaching for some dark, and light, oh where, i felt such piercing heat
take me there…
somewhere not where spec began but yes and beyond.
the explosion here morphing red rich rowdy
ain’ nuthin’ compared to the quiet rumble down
in the earth quake making these big booming soul blooms
right. on. time. see…
the cactus blooms when the cactus blooms…

j. ruth kelly, 2011

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Fully Human

“Our problem is not that we are born in sin. Our problem is we do not yet know how to achieve being fully human. The function of the Christ is not to rescue the sinners but to empower you and to call you to be more deeply and fully human than you’ve ever realized there was the potential within you to be. Maybe salvation needs to be conveyed in terms of enhancing your humanity rather than rescuing you from it.” John Shelby Spong, retired Episcopal bishop

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Time/No Time

“Time is old age, time is sorrow, time doesn’t heed. There is chronological time by the watch. That must exist, otherwise you won’t be able to catch your bus… But there is another kind of time, which we have accepted. That is, ‘Tomorrow I will be, tomorrow I will change, tomorrow I will become’; psychologically we have created time–tomorrow. Is there a tomorrow, psychologically? That question fills us with dread to ask seriously. Because we want tomorrow: ‘I shall have the pleasure of meeting you tomorrow, I am going to understand tomorrow, my life will be different tomorrow, I will realise enlightenment tomorrow.’ Therefore tomorrow becomes the most important thing in our life. You have had sex yesterday, all the pleasures, all the agonies–whatever it is–and you want it tomorrow, because you want the same pleasure repeated.

Put that question […could you go into psychological time?] to yourself and find out the truth of it. ‘Is there a tomorrow at all?’ –except in thought which projects tomorrow. So tomorrow is the invention of thought as time, and if there is no tomorrow psychologically, what happens in life today? Then there is a tremendous revolution, isn’t there? Then your whole action undergoes a radical change, doesn’t it?” J. Krishnamurti – The Awakening of Intelligence

Not all words and concepts from Krishnamurti reach me. He goes on to say in this quote that we are whole now. In some lives, this is only true in theory, conceptually. Much like the body’s processes of healing, our souls must go through the same thing. We don’t just suddenly step over, depending on the level of injury. Broken foot “you are whole now!” and ha, take a step. See what you get. Same is true for some injuries to the development of person, the freedom of the soul. So, is it the passage of time that heals such wounds? No. Not really. “Time” passes, if you believe time is something other than just a human measurement construct but it doesn’t mean “time” is healing anything or affecting anything at all. Based on the logic behind “time heals all wounds,” we could say the sun heals all wounds and might be closer to the truth. But. Time. Let’s toss it for this post, shall we?

The idea of time is especially big for me today for a fairly significant reason and it struck me how important the releasing of time as a force, as a consideration. When I step into the vibe, the awareness, the energy of there being no tomorrow (not literally but in terms of projecting from this point, this NOW, this moment), many actions and needs melt into a recognition of realities that they will inevitably unfold beyond anything I can see at this time. I can trust. But then, something else happens to other aspects of life, of the moment…they come due NOW.

In the MOMENT. Not in a hectic way. But in peaceful acceptance that without the construct of tomorrow, it is good to assert my will along these lines Right Now. The thought that tomorrow is the day for me to do things for myself is a pretty typical occurrence in this brain of mine. And there are so many needs and wants clamouring loudly. But erase tomorrow and suddenly those things I want to do for me, that are actually possible, are done. I’ve stepped out of time and step back into an awareness of time and the “move” from point A to point B reveals that I was motivated between those two alleged points and did something I’ve been wanting to do for what I recognize as weeks (and weeks!). So what really happened? An acceptance takes place that otherwise languishes on hold as time is vaporized in the awareness of eternal now. Forces ready to respond to the sun are no longer held back and life bursts forth from a seed, “accomplishing” many “things.”

Paradoxically, those things that seem past due in other areas of life, areas I cannot control, processes of growth and healing in myself and in others that I cannot rush, morph into a canvas of love and acceptance. It is seed now. And as seed responds to soil, rain and sun, so will seed shed the initial husk and unfold, reach, grasp for the sun. The sun.

And all the while there is no time…

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Real Life with Goddess…

Tootsie

Real life with goddess includes all day events for Lego League adventures, afternoon discussions rolling into the evening and on until bedtime because life can be that upsetting for teenagers and then all day stand and deliver co-coaching a beautiful birth while marveling at the wonder of the feminine divine not so much shining but bearing down for one more push before the truly gorgeous baby girl shows her face to the world. A face covered in womb’s stories, a beauty so gut-raw real sometimes only the tough ones can stand it.

Goddess is gory glory, has anyone else noticed? Shining glamour notions vary from culture to subculture to neighborhood to home to woman. And they don’t even begin to make up the real story of real life with goddess. We deal. We make it real and then we roll out the red carpet for things that matter hugely. How many women are out there mopping up the mess in the wake of marriage gone way wrong, nursing the bruised, often broken heart within and, for some, the bruises on their bodies, turning to shine a sincere smile on the face of a daughter or son while the phone rings about the overdue bills and the hamster cage screams for a cleaning and the schedule at work clamors beneath it all. This is goddess. It isn’t pretty as much as it’s courageous, resilient, vulnerable, and oh so amazing.

I had the privilege of coming home to a crazy kitten yowling out for love and kids grabbing for one more hug after a whole day of standing, coaching, holding a head up that could barely raise itself off the labor and delivery bed and all I could think was how amazing, how absolutely amazing our lives, the women who keep on day after day and continue to sing, to smile, to be real about what hurts while hoping and planning for brighter days. This is real life with goddess…

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Spontaneity

The road curved ahead of me through woods of ancient peace, ancient peace smiling at my anxiety, every knot in my center bracing for the next challenge. I drove with my hands tight on the steering wheel, noting the discordant vibe within, fatigue pounding a rhythm in my core. Every stretch of ruth-limb marveled, marveled that there would be such stillness, such strength in the solidarity of trees stretching to blue skies, sinking roots in earth yearning and that I was going down a road not planned. How would this visit go? Why did it worry me so much? When did I last feel a sustained stretch of something other than frustration with the journey? Why had I not called last night? How could she say anything but yes when you were only 5 minutes away? Gnawing, anxious hunger surreal. Alan Watts says that spontaneity is total sincerity (Nature, Man and Woman, pg. 112) and “the whole being involved in the act without the slightest reservation–and as a rule the civilized adult is goaded into it only by abject despair, intolerable suffering, or imminent death.” Agreement with Alan Watts isn’t a given for me but this statement rings true…most of the time. There are sustained moments for many when joy surprises the hours of duty, of commitment and habits of excellence, rushes into every cellular jive seemingly from nowhere. And a melting spontaneity inevitably unfolds. Some have lived so long in peace and self-acceptance, wrested from the past by hard work and self-delivered into a radical grace so beautifully pervasive they cannot even think of spontaneity because it would be like biting your own teeth. Or thinking of not thinking or thinking of. Of. My hand gripped the wheel and while the decision had been spontaneous, I was anything but spontaneously peaceful or wholly involved beyond a scraping anxiety but sincere? Was I sincere?

I was. I am. Sincerely in need of an infusion of something other than just enough to endure, cope, survive. I understand it’s not an uncommon reality for many these days. When a body goes into push mode for a sustained period of time and is second-guessing the choices during those push phases, second-guessing and mistrusting self, survival is everything in spite of the feast unfolding in vistas all around, within reach, just there on the ground and up, past tangles and leaves found.

Surviving at a feast, further bulletins as events warrant…

But spontaneity became me becoming at rest as I got out of my car and looked into woods caressed in morning light, the Eno a bit beyond me but sending liquid sustenance into air, filling my breath. I felt rest seep into every ache. I was prepared to stay for hours or leave in minutes. But I needed to be heard, to be known and to know more. I needed to hear words of advice, of guidance, of perspective a couple decades ahead of me and even to hear if maybe I oughta, shoulda done thus and so by now and oh. Wow. I left hours later, enriched by the culture of sincerity and spontaneity, knowing more and known more of and by my aunt. I would so rather experience such feasts every once in a while than a dozen friendly episodes empty of awareness every week after week surreally wearing me out.

I survived my way through and to a feast in order to find, not for the first or last time, that the survival mode was at once both inevitable and avoidable through a surrender, not of my will, but of my resistance. This is no news flash for me, nor a new experience. But. But when there are few resources for the resource, few motivators for the motivator, few people actually present in body as well in spirit and in my face declaring life and grace, survival becomes inevitable until the next great oasis ride through woods ancient.

They feed the soul, those trees and their people. They send you back down the road and into the stream of sincere bankruptcy exploding a wealth no bank can hold, no feast can convey and no lover can conjure. As soon as we quit the scramble to retain the last ounce of reserve or energy or gold, the hands of the heart open wide and life comes flooding in, spilling love on fields no one can sully with civil seeds bred in manufactured schemes. But I digress.

Life is good even when it’s horridly overworked, disgustingly overrun with real, valid demands and too many needs to be fulfilled at once. And when you arrive back in town, in your driveway with your son and the sun is singing a sweet song, you stop. There is no other more sincere unfolding but to stop right there and soak. Soulful feasting is the inevitable tide when long rides through forested peace bring release from self-blame, from pride, from the endless questioning, disturbing the trust of life itself. And you sit there and soak, door open wide, demands calling quietly and then going silent in the sound of spontaneous acceptance, released into the life of life itself.

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