Most of us remain psychologically blinded by the every day miracles from which the very fibers of our lives are spun. Me included – or occluded. To say that the power of simply believing we are alive is critical to that process would be an understatement of cosmic proportions. To put this notion in perspective we have to first realize that all realities are belief generated, and that within the mill and fabric of creation are absolutely limitless possibilities. There are more wefts, warps, and weaves than any one biological DNA constructed singularity with a brain is capable of imagining. What limits do exist are purely and powerfully psychological, the constructs of the vagaries of intellect and emotion, acquired through misunderstood experiences which are jealously guarded as “real”. It is only fear, and that limitless power of the mind itself which also make this blindness possible, and so contagious; so easily shared. As our individual “divinity” emerges as more than a primal memory, our vision will clear. The innate miraculous beauty within all creation will become self evident. This will require many to relinquish their pet perceptions as to what “God” is all about, and to forget the damning prejudicial limits radiating from dogma and their very “piety”. If there is indeed a “God”, it is something Within everything. Within All of us. It is All “God”, most assuredly including ourselves, whether we are made in “his” image or not. There have most certainly been incarnate individuals who have attempted to teach the single most powerful aspect of this ubiquitous truth: Love. Virtually all of these have performed acts recorded as “miraculous” because of their “uncommon” nature. Love is sometimes only blinded by over familiarity, wherein the superficial, or that which we take to be obvious, become our default perception of truth. Especially when it brings us “comfort.” When what we think of as “darkness”, while emotion gains the upper hand – the common paradigm on our planet today – the shared realities are more fear than love based, and the results are a blurred glaucomic myopia of fake news, which we seem to seek out like moths to a flame. It is good to remember that even darkness is but the flip side of the one same light we all not only share, but are constructed from. It would be too simple to see darkness as only a diluted or compromised aspect of that light, for that too only plays into the blindness that what we Do see is always a divine Choice. Everything is a choice. Who does the choosing then is the only question. So don’t question miracles; learn to See them in everything. That is how we will know what we are made of, as well as our capabilities. It’s all One thing.
Month: November 2017
An Angel Too, from 12/13/11
An angel flew> Windsong Petal bright Honey Light
Winged heart Soul dance Flashing joy Sweet delight
Tender lips Kiss tasting Fruit season Rainbow white
Fly together Face to face Nose touching Holding tight
An angel flew Heartsease Out of sight Dynamite
An angel flew A trail of bliss Rainbow’s kiss All love ignites
An angel blew A kiss to you, The kiss flew; An angel too.
RUTS
It is not easy to grow out of a comfortable rut, especially when there is not much about it that is comfortable. Like all forms of suffering or inflexibility, ruts are attachment based, even if our self induced bondage is something as generic as our “comfort zone”. We’re usually too close and familiar to it to smell the stagnation.
Having experienced a grandly traumatic separation this past year, and finding myself standing and breathing with hope for the future, it still feels frustratingly incomplete. There is so much bounty and possibility ripening yet behind the veil of my own efforts and resistance. How long must the illusion of lack hold sway over my back? When will the magic I am already acquainted with become my def mode, without self restraint: without fear? Connecting the love and beauty that spans all places, all dimensions, is the central aspect of this life’s purpose.
The more I am able to accept that there is a faith point like free fall, which I have experienced in baby steps, the more tempting it is to jump. The only thing that prevents this is the notion that I might lose something that I can’t “live” without.
It also occurs to me that jumping may not actually have to include “doing” something. As Gabriel is won’t to point out at the ever present appropriate moment (generally the Now): “All reality is belief based” …. whether you are a human or a Marigold. It is useful to understand that this includes our physical world, our judgements, limitations, and our abundance – or lack thereof.
What you might notice here is that I don’t really offer advice or instruction on specific steps one must take to achieve enlightenment. If I had nailed this down after all the years of meditation, study, and introspection, I could no doubt skip all this journaling. I do believe the journey back to Oneness to be infinitely personal, and that the greatest gift we can give ourselves is to discover our absolutely unique relationship with the cosmos without fear of being similar or dissimilar. There should be no judgement against those who choose a different spiritual, intellectual, religious, economic, or metaphysical practice or path to Understanding.
I would add: especially if it includes respect for all life in its endless (thank Goodness) manifestations, and to love our differences as perhaps the most magical aspect of our Source unity.
One of the more disturbing images I can conjure up is of a world where everyone was exactly like me. Disturbing doesn’t really express the instant sense of malaise that thought invokes.
Life at its best and worst is a vehicle for the education and evolution of consciousness.
Rosi, Althusia Sundha, and Xyla Grace
I was going to ask Laura Almada, my mineral and crystal mentor and friend, what to expect or look for in a Citrine, a golden colored natural form of Quartz, or Silicon dioxide. But the question didn’t feel right. It was a pretty short question, so what part wasn’t working? Most of it; as “working” was in the answer.
I must be getting Divine help, because the words “How do I Work With a Citrine” (as opposed to what can I get) came through loud and clear. This put me much closer to the original question yet unasked.
I am going to ask because I am already working with a 2-1/4″ diamond cut Citrine looking like a honey colored version of Rosi, the clear Rosendal 3″ lead crystal “paperweight”. For some reason I like names, so when I asked the Citrine for a name I was given Althusia Sundha. It sounded serious enough, so I think I could at least use some crystal etiquette tips.
It sounds like a “she”, so I’ll go with that. Althusia once adorned what would be the 5th Chakra of the Jasper Isis shrine at Edenlight. The epoxy couldn’t stabilize against her glassy surface, so she popped out into the Monterey Pine needles below. Now she’s hanging out with her slightly larger same shaped sister Rosi among a focus group grove of Bay and Oak. And Merlin the Dusky Footed Wood Rat.
The past two evenings, night and day included, Althusia and Rosi have spent together across the creek concealed in adjacent hollows of a lovely moss covered multi-trunked Coast live Oak named Xyla Grace.
Xyla Grace’s service is pretty profound. She offers up the very Grace of Gaia, in reunion, communion, and reciprocation for the flow of Divine Grace that allows everything to continue. A beautiful tree, and comfortable.
UPDATE: Just as I finished posting this, the phone rang and it was Laura Almada asking if I was free to take a walk somewhere – not something we have done much of. The answer was yes, and in the course of a several hour discovery of some local natural beauty I learned some basic Citrine properties. Citrine clears negativity, can help attract wealth, and is an effective aid in promoting clarity of the Third, or Solar Chakra, which is our Grand Central Station of empathic sensitivity, and an important portico to the Heart.
Interesting Times
I feel as though I have, not without some sacrifice or compromise, (meaning there were enough hard knocks and losses to have tutorial significance) achieved a certain amount of true magic in this life.
The more time that lapses since I last saw the 27 year one acre university that was Edenlight Garden where I was given a Master course in channeling Divinity in its infinite forms and frequencies, the more surreal is the memory. Living now full time with my wife of 44 years in a house we’ve had for 32 years, raised our two daughters in, run my landscape business from, and can walk out the back gate of and be on the Mt. Burdell trail system, is evidently where I begin my “graduate work” from.
I had been worried that without the unique venue of Edenlight, its shrines, altars, United Nations of plants, minerals, chickens, and sacred art comprising a living mandala of creative change, I might well be lost. I had grown accustomed to having a regular ongoing magical inspirational and creative experience any time of day or night. If I hadn’t been journaling it might well seem but an amazing dream.
There are also the 50,000 or so photographs of consciousness as digital light forms expressing as orbs, ectoplasm, and apparitions; many in full color. These are more than memories. To me they prove that what our minds allow us to see is but a pale veneer of the greater multiverse.
What I miss most is a whole list: to be able to make a mess carving rock and wood, painting and glueing, a nightly fire, the gazebo I basically lived in for the past ten years, the mostly unrehearsed sacred music events we called GardenSong, my precious flock of chickens including crowing roosters, and the many friends and teachers who would show up and share their unique channels of consciousness.
All of this provided a delightful and sometimes challenging opportunity for unexpected events, the greatest of which was the loss of all of it.
As real to me as it all was, much was but an attachment of the mind. What I did not lose was the memories, and a continuing rapport with Spirit regardless of where I am. Nature does not withhold its magic. I now spend most evenings and as much daylight as circumstance allows exploring the beauty and mysteries of the land about me. I have my “own” nearby creek canyon where I feel no less – if not more – communion with Spirit in diverse paradigms as I did at Edenlight. Edenlight the Rainbow Being is always with me, and demonstrates no jealousy for the myriad forms of natural love with which I make contact. I am increasingly of the mind that all of Nature is Bodhisattva.
It is my deepest, yet most difficult to verify, conviction that some kind of positive energy transfer relating to our reunification with the 5th and 6th Dimensions (“heaven”), was instilled into Gaia and all her parts, including Humanity, at Edenlight Garden. This was the primary guiding thought form of the last 15 years. It was in the imagining, the contents, and the arrangement of the garden, and most assuredly in my heart – which I suspect is the key ingredient.
The cumulative experience brought me gifts and skills I must learn to direct in new ways. The imagined dependency upon The Garden constitutes a big gear to shift out of. Especially as it dovetails with what currently has been long predicted as “interesting times”. We rarely appreciate what a rich soup we have been flailing around in. Sometimes we’re kicking bones, and at others we attain conscious heights never before experienced, anywhere or anywhen. These are what we have the greatest challenge believing and hanging onto.
We who are aware of it are all seeking and learning to experience the liberating knowing of our Oneness, and that our heart is the doorway to all of it when we get out of our own “self” obscured way.
Writer’s Block
I had woven my way further up the creek than most evenings in search of discovery and inspiration, but couldn’t think of something to write about. So I stopped thinking and sat down on a block of water polished schist which was cool and dry, but shall soon become the raised center of a five foot wide seasonal weir of joyously overflowing, rippling, bubbling, singing hypnotically, sky-given water element. It is a comfortable support for my sitting contemplative (lol) body, with my feet slightly lower than a chair, while facing the soon to carve and curve its way out of sight point about 30′ downstream.
The exposed roots, occasional clinging tufts of dried coiled licorice fern, boulders and pebbles, and a rock strewn but walkable creek bed, all exposed by eons of erosion, – except where you have to clamber over fallen trunks and branches, while practicing a kind of asymmetric yoga to avoid the now nearly bare poison oak brush which reaches out for you – adorn both banks.
I am seated at the bottom of this sinuous slot in the Earth on one level, while my feet rest upon the next long lower step, which doesn’t drop again within eyesight anywhere as abruptly as my seat. The largest drops I’ve seen in these neighboring creeks are about six feet. To my right the grey-brown wall of soil rises abruptly to 10,’ and the reddish-brown left shoulder to 6′; both then continuing to rise more gently up the opposing hillsides.
It has grown dark as I typed, and I am reminded that I’m a ways uphill from my usual, or unusual, copse of tree muses. Making this more rewarding is the chillingly enjoyable Coyote duet at the top of the canyon, with a strong solo component that has gone on longer than is common. It’s close enough to ring like high-tuned reeds in the woods above my head. This (which is still going on and feels like a warm massage to the heart) came as a sort of thrilling segue to just having noticed the cold softened, funneled to me as a muted high pitched sigh; audio net of the near perennial backdrop of crickets.
The moon struck Canid has finally quieted its passion. An airliner low enough to be on approach to SFO just rumbled overhead on a north to south path and is finally out of my range of hearing.
Had I just arrived from elsewhere knowing nothing about the significance of anything in my surroundings, I would figure out pretty quickly that there’s nothing nearby that’s good for hitting your head on, there is water of some sort present, and what is above me has at least two components: a random pattern of of scratchy patches and streaks of a faint neutral gray which might be either a dim light source or solid color on a black background, And this steady head wrap of the cricket’s atmospheric caress.
Add the amazing recital of something sounding like a trilling Native American flute, which the imaginary me didn’t know was a wood pigeon…
Now I have to navigate myself down to base camp with my phone light. The time has changed back to standard time and it feels two hours later than this time yesterday.
Before getting up, several large sounding dry leaves fell on the rocks just to the right of my boots. I turned the light down on them and then over my head, revealing different parts of the same poison oak bush.
I will have to get past worse, soft stepping it out of here, wanting mostly to not feel a thin twiggy swiping of my cheek, and its only a minor addition to the frustration of not thinking about anything to write about, as I rise from this unusually rectilinear thick slab of rock, a little cold and stiff.
The same night, while seated with Hari, I was honored to meet Merlin the Wood Rat for the first time. But that is another story I haven’t thought about how to tell yet.
Distraction or Instruction?
Challenges and annoying situations are generally easier to perceive as a distraction than a learning opportunity. Accepting both at once is legal and better than not accepting the instruction part; especially when the part that makes the distraction meaningful is found within the instruction.
For the past two months I’ve paid a lot of visits to two sides of a creek, and spent time in my range of nearby viewing clearing the floor of years of fallen branches. In one area are scattered three rocks that I was never able to rearrange, even though at one time or other I have managed to bump into all three with my feet. I rationalized that they were part of a simple natural power grid. During this same span of time I have come to fully appreciate becoming cautiously sure-footed, particularly as much of it is spent in the dark. It just occurred to me that these three chunks of shiny blackish schist served as well as any teacher to help me walk in the present moment and not end up on the ground.
It’s pretty well known that Earth is a learning planet. I also believe that it will be the Meek (which means Teachable) who shall come out ahead when this paradigm shift (which we are well into the stressful birth canal part of ) is at full vibratory saturation. We take some gasping breaths of the air of New Earth already, but it isn’t even close to what the true breathing of life giving prana shall feel like.
It’s not supposed to be official until around 2038, but that could move up in a heartbeat when enough of us emerge or awaken to our blessedly interconnected Truth.
By that time arrogance and lying, which seem to pair so well with greed and selfish manipulation, shall be relegated to a place not unlike the one we’ve suffered in for so long – and where we have learned more than we are allowed to take or be given credit for.
But don’t let that prevent us from performing frequent and random acts of revelatory compassion and generosity. That would really get the ball rolling so the parasites disinterested in awakening got flung off quicker.
I trust that Creation shall be merciful and give them something like present day Earth, which is referred to by some conscious civilizations as “the lunatic fringe of the cosmos”, or “hell”.
But that’s not a nice thing to say in reference to Gaia, who is by no means at any fault. We can’t blame her for feeling a little abused, depressed, and unloved. The paradise locked within her shall be released. It is no longer ages away. We are in the storm before the calm. Many of us – perhaps most – are in the graduating class of Humanity. Our diploma is in the 10 of our 12 strands of DNA that are not understood; our divinity.
Sensuality
This 3RD dimensional world is largely experienced with our five physical senses, and I would add a sixth sense that is exclusively sensual. This is something that sex itself may be devoid of when selfishly indulged in. Sensuality is more of an overriding aspect of the creative process; all creation, which incorporates all senses. This conflicts in no way with the common belief that Heaven ( a frequency concurrent with the 3RD dimension) is 5th and 6th dimensional – the closest frontier to the Etheric realm. We tend to live in the Elemental realm, though our three lower chakras are elemental, our heart ties it all together, and our upper three chakras are etheric. A perfectly integrated design for having a meaningful experience with Source.
This is all leading up to one point: We may sensually access anything that exists via any one, any combination of, or all five of the physical senses. Not just the second chakra, which in itself contains the entire spectrum of creative and procreative possibilities.
The very word sensual translates as all senses. The general perception of a sixth sense as meaning psychic or intuitive also does not conflict with the idea that sensuality incorporates All of these things. The Archangels for instance, though androgynous, and without physicality, have a sensual capacity generated by love, compassion, and empathy.
To be kinesthetic is to have enhanced neural interplay between the five senses. Artists and poets are about eight times more kinesthetic than the general population which has a more survival based sensuality. Kinesthesia is a marriage of metaphor and imagery. This is the beating heart of “sensual”.
We can sense with either fear, which severely limits us, or love, which is entirely liberating. Most of us live a chaotic blend of the two. Sensual visceral fear is not my idea of fun, as I have not experienced it only hypothetically.
One of my favorite quotes is from when George Washington Carver was asked how he knew the things he was able to invent with plant based products, (most famously, the peanut). He replied, ” I learn what I know by watching and loving everything”. To me this is advanced sensuality. It is rich with compassion and empathy. People closed off by fears and judgements are going to miss out on this.
The idea of attachment is something The Buddha pretty much nailed. It would be hard to think of a fear that didn’t involve losing Something either real or perceived. We are generally amazed at what we can survive once we’ve been through hell on Earth at least once. At that time one experiences sensual fear, even if it didn’t involve physical torture of some sort.
Being human has gifts still buried within us. And they are not fully accessed by the 2nd, or any other, chakra, nor our finger tips. Without a comfortable interface with the One creative sense which made any of this discussion possible, looking through the eyes of our Heart, it is possible to be vibrantly blind, ear-ringingly deaf, and reactively dumb. The Great Central Sun would have to have a good shot at most sensual place ever.
Drawing our Line
I was having an unusually strong feeling sorry for myself day, a solo pity party, which I was still celebrating upon arrival in my woodland sanctuary this evening. The following words were inspired by a visual message that came from the Spirit I am able to connect to out in the natural world, which is mostly devoid of those human ideas and behaviors which have manifest now a most difficult time for everyone. Stuff that fake news isn’t ever going to gloss over. Nature is surely not responsible for the chaos; it is Man and his predominant self-concern which has displaced the once balanced polarity on this planet: the Yin and the Yang in intertwined harmony that we have willed into a battle of light versus dark.
It is separation, instead of perfectly set into motion creative equilibrium. Free will, when applied in a loving selfless way is the only thing other than an exceptional free pass of Grace that can turn this phenomenal energetic boat of the human epic in a new direction that isn’t bargeing directly into the current and teeth of resistance.
Resistance to what? I’m pretty sure we couldn’t count the volumes inspired by this question. Here I would describe that resistance as not such a complex thing. The whole idea to write this came as a simple illustration.
Creation is already infinitely complex, which is good given man’s propensity for boredom with even the best of things. It could be that we are a bunch of self absorbed (and therefore dysfunctional) relays in a Mandala of divine circuitry – also infinite. Being spiritually autonomous, while believing we are truly energetically independent, turns us from healthy synapses or relays into resistors. On the physical level such blockages are normally experienced as inflammation, pain, and dis-ease. Culturally the effects are the same.
To know of the power of well being which comes with our understanding our inter-connectedness – the only way to be liberated from that toxic prison of prophylactic Self- is to see everything and everyone as an actual part of ourself, love ourself, and then do that to everything else. Ancient fundamental recipe for successful functionality. It may sound flowery, but don’t let that detract you from your appreciation for the unique magic found in flowers. Flowers can be pretty Second Chakra.
The vision which triggered this essay was pretty simple, and came as a 3D picture that was comprised of three components: a left side which in this case represented Selfless Happy Light, a line down the middle which was me (or you), and a Dark Stressed Selfishness side on the right. Accompanying this was the thought picture and reminder that the Light is much stronger than Darkness. It takes little light to undarken a room.
It was also clear that the middle line couldn’t be separate from both sides at once, one reason being that we wouldn’t exist without our Light Source.
So if the dark right side of this picture is bigger than the left, it can mean two things. It could be that the trust in the light is so great that it doesn’t matter if the darkness around us seems to dominate. Or it can mean we have allowed darkness to displace some of our own light.
I was able to visually move the shape of my middle line around. It didn’t seem to move right or left and remain a vertical line, but to bulge and bend. Either way, whenever the dark side became the dominant factor, I knew that I was out f balance.
The real message is, yes, there is a struggle between two powerful forces. This is the clay we are given to knead into a reality. If we trust in our own magical powers – which everyone has if they Believe it – the struggle part vanishes, at least on the personal level, and the clay is easily crafted into our souls’ perfect art. As modeling clay is pliable and flexible, so is our consciousness – unless we fire it too soon with fear and doubt.
The cool thing is the the whole universe belongs to each one of us. When we all Master the art of sharing on that level, we’ll be good to go. Namaste.
CREATION: The manifest creation we experience here on Earth is borrowed from many dimensions which may not be visible to most. Artists and writers receive their inspiration via diverse channels of energetic sources. I suspect good art is always a cooperative effort, no matter how much the ego might like to take the credit.
Sometimes we are re-creating from otherwhen. Sometimes it’s all new. It is little appreciated the unseen inter dimensional energetic fabric – which we each create from the very center of – and which is woven from every color in the rainbow, every formula and equation imaginable, every symphony ever written (or not), and every Haiku to grace a page. This gives our human experience its range of possibilities, and which only appears to barely keep ahead of our boredom or confusion … and only allows our worst fears to kill us.
I indulged in the above drama because, like I said, I was having a crappy emotional day. By the time I wrote this that was no longer true. A friend had suggested I try taking L-theamine, a stress releaser derived from green tea, which I did, and was pleasantly surprised when it felt as though some switch were flicked on -or off- and the darkness just evaporated. This happened about an hour and a half after taking one little gel-cap. This does not disprove that nature has a balm for everything.
I tirelessly, or tiresomely, repeat one of my favorite guidelines: All reality is belief based, so attend to the quality of our belief. Because then we get to spend the rest of our lives figuring out what quality means, and try living up to it without being too hard on ourselves. An important part of that is to learn our own unique truth, which there is plenty of room for, regardless of our integration of Being with all that is.
The Frog Downstream
Written last night:
I got to the woods tonight, already somehow two days into not just November, but November of the year 2017, just before dark. The nearly full moon is just rising in the East, but there is yet little illuminating benefit from its low angle through hills and tree cover. The sky has still not given up its last breath of afterglow, lending a dramatic contrast to the overhead black cross-hatching of limb and leafy bough. It is slightly warmer this evening as the rains draw nearer, and the crickets have ratcheted up accordingly.
Another night sound, which ceases when there is no more of that afterglow, is the local squirrel. A sassy gray squirrel (we also have pure black squirrels, which are common down in Menlo Park, but not so many around here) who makes sudden moves, and has fooled me a few times; Some of what I had thought were nearby deer crunching their hooves in the crispy leaf mulch in the dark, was this acrobatic little monkey performing some quick scratchy rattling routines in branches well above the ground.
I’ve watched him or her – I haven’t asked – scitter up trunks, narrow branches, and through thin air to another twiggy trapeze, without making any sound, except when the leaves shake and rattle during the part when Rocky ( a name I completely made up), knows where he’s headed but isn’t actually attached to anything tangible.
It was sort of touching to me that the the chicken (which is well known for its empathy) crossed the road…. to demonstrate to the squirrel that it is a possibility. Rocky does not have to worry about cars here, although he shouldn’t get too cocky around Great Horned Owls.
Then just at dark there was a brief but captivating exchange between two very different sounding wood pigeons. One quite owl like, and the other more of a warbler.
The first night music I heard upon arrival at my sentry post was a sole Pacific Tree Frog, which offered its raspy ribbit a half dozen times, each ripping rift bringing a broader smile to my face and a tingle to my core. This was to my right, facing down the pool pocked non-flowing rocky still water creek -( but for the smooth skating fragile looking water striders), where this lone croaker, no more than an inch and a half long, reminded me of the spring time ear splitting symphonic festivals in our back yard pond.
This was a most welcome solo, with each bigger than life chirrup of amphibious ardor more creative and heartwarming than the last.
By the time I left, the moon was high, its broadly stippled glow upon the ground an animate topography of its very own, and the thickening clouds of impending rain drawing a translucent quilted gauze over it all.
Edenlight Garden 