Wood(s)

It is cold, but I am warm.  Perched upon Hari, the split-back bucket-seat Live Oak desk chair in the woods.   It is night, and dark.  The now silent crickets of summer ring just as loudly in the head of winter.  Leaves are fewer, the air more naked, and the distant traffic louder.  As are all the muffled sounds from farther off.  Cars, dogs, a wood pigeon, accelerating motorcycles, airplanes;  at the moment no coyote serenades or great horned owl hoots.  Or those spikes in the air that are human voices.  The waning super moon rises much too late now to illuminate the woodland any time before crossing the creek back home.  I night blind myself writing on the phone.  But can see the slightly lighter pattern above that is sky,  through the black lace canopy supported by the faint lines of an elegant and solid array of erect, leaning, arching, and fallen Beings of earth.

Drumming on certain – many – trees can set up a transformative resonance.  To do so upon the Yin and Yang sides of a double trunked tree such as Hari creates a most fertile frequency for manifestation of change.  I drum and find the sweet spots with my hands until they too cry with joy.  Join with the tree as sacred music, and wait for the colors of the sounds of celebration to appear in their momentary perfection.  A dead tree, unburdened from the weight of carrying on as a life form, can ring as high and sweet as Paolo Soleri’s bells.  If you listen: The great gift of healing music.  Ask your local luthier.

Advertisements

When the I in the We

When the I in the We understands itself to be one of infinite star points within a brilliant Oneness – never more, never less –  we may influence , illuminating preferably, rather than dimming – vast numbers of those other points of light, and then the Great Star that contains us all shall glow at its brightest.

 

Miracle Blindness

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.

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.