Archives for category: Peace

loch_katrin?

Thoughts over the last few weeks: THE LIGHT IN ALL THINGS

In times of great intensity, it becomes obvious that it is natural to love. That spark is ignited that connects us, the heart aches and comes alive. What life demands of us, what the world demands of us creates a field of resilience and taps into a deep strength and source we all have.

Here are some things I have been doing to move through what is one of the most intense times I have experienced in my life.

Connect with our field of resilience. When we walk through where we are and it is not the same, the air shimmers with new light. We are hesitant and scared and feel vulnerable, and there is no place to go where we are not ourselves. We are at this time, in this place. We extend blessings and repeat, May all beings be safe. May all beings know peace. May we all come to our hearts and reveal the truth in them. The field glitters with the ice of winter, a premonition of a space that surrounds the present moment and allows it to expand. We want to hear and listen and talk and feel the truth of what is happening and it can be hard: the moment moves away from us again and again. It is hard to hold it. We’re sad about so many things and a lot of times, this gathers and is immovable. We stop feeling for some time, until we remember our hearts are beating and we can become aware of our breath filling our body. We remember that we are alive and wonder what that means. The space inside the heart can be filled with sadness and it can be filled with peace and it can be filled with love. The heart is big. We forget that so many times, especially the heart. We forget that there is space around us and we can breathe.

Live each day. We can only deal with what is in front of us in that moment, on that day. There are knowns and there are unknowns. The knowns are right there. Take it day by day, minute by minute.

Go where we are welcome. When we are with people who welcome us, when we welcome other people, we create community.

Continue to love. This is not about being an idealist or fantasist or hippie. To continue to love is one of the bravest things we can do. Love is open- open-hearted and open-eyed.

Do one thing. If we can’t think of what to do, we can do one thing that feels good or that is hard in a challenging way, not destructive way. Do one thing.

Go outside and look up at the sun and know that it gives us life, gives all of us life.

Move. Walk, stretch, work out, dance, sing. Move.

Know that it is possible to feel hope and fear at the same time.

Know and honor boundaries and respect all the ways we deal. We need to respect the way others make sense of things and that their way may be different. It’s important to create safe spaces for dialogue and express what we’re feeling. And to give ourselves and others the space we may need. To both be there and give loving space. To let others know we’re with them, see them, love them, and acknowledge that we all have different ways of getting through. The community we form is one of love and light and honor and compassion. To move through this as truthfully as we can and to make even more room for ourselves and others. Everyone’s path is different. We can deepen our commitment to each other and the understanding that we are all a part of each other.

Turn to the love we have inside of us. No matter where we are, it is our choice to turn to the love we have inside of us. This is not a romantic notion—it is the truth of who we are and to keep going there again and again when we feel like there is nothing left and we are so tired and afraid, that is courage. That is strength. Tuning into the energy of love and seeing how it expresses itself is a noble and ethical act. Every time. Every time we are kind, it has ramifications and it matters. Every time we speak the truth, it matters.

Everything we do is a triumph.

Look for Part 2 soon!

equinox-reading_9-22-16

Equinox reading and end of Mercury retrograde today.
🙏
First, take a long, slow, deep breath. And hold onto your 🎩. It is starting to get interesting. As if it hasn’t been interesting enough. 🍀
Bright things are coming but they must be earned. There is vigilance required of us now–and we need to check in with ourselves that this vigilance doesn’t turn into paranoia and overdramatizing. There are powerful energies surrounding every event this fall. With the release of the reins as Mercury retrograde ends, energy spills out and could use a bit of containment and structure. So many new ideas, and especially one or two incredibly powerful new relationships, could test our limitations and what we think of ourselves and what our lives are, what gives us meaning. Purpose and action are highlighted as many fires burn–again, the herald here speaks to managing our emotions and activities and schedules–micro to macro–in order for peace and loving thought, word, and deed to be our matrix. And matrices shift and settle–the shifting is, in fact, a settling, coming home, a solidification of ideals and magic into tangible being. The transmogrification of elements, thoughts, creative pursuits, is supported this season. We have so much to transmute. Everything changes this season. Known to unknown, unknown to known. We can shift our consciousness to miracles. Miracles are self-power and unconditional love ❤️ manifesting. Love is a physical presence. 💚
It is up to each of us to embody love towards ourselves and others. We make the world. As so many pressures are converging on us, as the summer releases itself and autumn 🍂 comes, reaching, demanding, with its beautifully shorter days and golden light, the sun lowers in the sky, the sky itself lowers towards us.
It can be so hard, and frightening, and the weight of the air can feel burdensome, as so many things converge in the next few months, but we have help–within ourselves and our own conscience, our collective well-being, our connectivity as a global organism. 🍁
Let things be as they are and have courage to see things as they are and the courage to change what needs changing. All is within our grasp. 🙏

Like

in Polish, the silence- silence, hush, abatement, appeasement, subsidence

A cold paw reached in and touched his fevered forehead. He didn’t react except for a slight tremor in the breath, lay still as a plank of wood, and even in wood, there’s movement. The dog pattered away, tail between his legs, head down, and settled on the worn path between the kitchen door and the stove. He lay on his stomach, sad-eyed head between two huge front paws. His ears monitored any kitchen activity, which was minuscule, known only to him, twitching backward and forward as his eyelids slowly closed, surrendering to the dense quiet. It was a quiet filled with the sound of insects buzzing in orchestral awe, then suddenly quieted. The sound of birds cooing and harmonizing then abruptly drowned in primordial silence.

*

The night remembers and trusts the inkhead sheep and brown-eyed cows of Scotland’s countryside. It forms a coded black around us as it dissolves into sleep.

June and July passed in a hot silence.

On Sundays, we look for nourishment, paws scratching in the half-damp of the unwatered, dewed garden. Have the deer eaten our flowers yet? A family, bright-eyed, waits in the tall grass beyond the bathroom window. We wink as we mutter as we shade our eyes from the cold,- [humid] light pouring through the clean pane. Looking for comfort in the hours of daylight ahead. Everything in us tilting, waiting, like flowers, towards dark. Flowers whose survival depends on the dark cover of night, the opposite of light, the soothe of the velvet night sky against our bodies.

We try to feel what we feel. And not reach for an easy excuse out of feeling. We try to be whole, meaning whole with experience but it is hard right now, the wonder of what lies ahead, rosebed, if the night will become ours, days and nights of wondering and uncertainty. We’ve grown used to them, this unknown love of the territories, we know this love, in our bones, mouths, around our eyes. It’s weird and inexplicable and wondrous and the wanting and longing and desire are pronounced and jutting, physical, premonition of objects battering at the soft edges of the world.

We were [are?] quiet here.

Right now, we are waiting to turn into something else, like the color of air when a curtain is swept aside. Waiting for alchemy, for the heart to remember its roots.

Magnetic North

The blue needle longed for magnetic north.
– Borges, Tlon, Uqbar, Orbis Tertius

We will make it through. We are in the water. The loneliness and companionship of water, sunset beyond windows, within view or darkened prematurely by blinds. We’re in that blind and then blinded by a midday sun. There is no loneliness, we tell ourselves, we’re married, we have families, we have jobs. We have people we talk to every day.

The promise of water.

After all this time, I’m still the adolescent girl in my parents’ Dodge, lying down in the backseat, reading, as one or the other of them, usually my mom, bangs on the window, startling me out of a book, demanding I get out of the car and enjoy whatever view of whatever attraction at whatever national park. I’d still rather be in the backseat, reading.

Over the moon and under the sun, my reading encounters Borges and the Map of Uqbar.

Love presupposes language- silent language, one that is felt and heard in the body- we are existences of each other, one silent alphabet that unites all languages, dead and alive, posthumous recognition of the experience of all beings.

Ursprache: primordial language / proto-language

[what is moored in a presupposed or ore-(mineral, water, composite elements of matter)
Pre-imagined – what comes before imagination in the cosmos –
energy is what leads to pure being]

We go, as always, from desire into solitude, from solitude into desire. We unravel the effects of decisions we made in the past.

The new horizon is visible and there is so much light.

We can look at parentheses as a kind of sleep, which would be most accurately described by synonym slumber. What is held in parentheses is a dream. We are not quite sure if it’s physically real or if it is part of some imagined dream world.

The nine copper coins of Zeno are secret history, unknown waters, invisible presences, apparitions, the mystery of what came before and what will come and what is hidden now, the inner seams of the material of time and how it flows within matter, physical bodies, the earth, other planets, and love.

The premonition of objects and the sea.

A blessing for the Solstice.

I am finally in my life now like a real human being, occupying space and my body as if I belong there. For so long, I didn’t feel like I belonged in my own life. I felt that I didn’t exist and was scared all the time. This fear was born in me at a very young age and solidified more and more so that I became less aware of this—this marginal existence, where I was half in my body and half out. It has taken a long time, a lifetime, to feel like I fully exist, and I still have to remind myself that I am here, in the world, in my body, at this time and in this place.

The erasure of myself was quiet and, therefore, could be denied. It was tender and seductive, like taking a sleeping pill and going to sleep for the rest of my life. There was an abdication of form, a releasing of my body that happened. But, even in this half-erased state, that was not the only truth and I continued to fight from somewhere deep inside, even though I didn’t really understand exactly what I was doing. There was an anger, a temper that flared and fought to stay alive, to give voice to all of the silencing that happened. One of the truths of my life was that I was comfortable being invisible. It felt, for so long, safer. The only safety I had was being not there. If I was not there, then no one could hurt me.

I have come now fully into my body. Shamanism is an embodied practice. It does not let you hide. I have been slowly filling my body with my essence, my soul, my heart that has always known who I am and seen me clearly, as a being that is fully here, on this earth, and wants to live. You have to want to live. You have to want to exist. I have always wanted to live, I know that the force in me to stay alive, the self-protective instinct is fierce and powerful.

Both desires in me were true. They coexisted. But now, to have fully come into my life and feel my breath in my body and my heart beating and know that I am alive, in a body, at this time, I know the difference between a whole existence and a half-life.

I have been thinking a lot about healing and connection and compassion and empathy. There are so many intricacies to human thought and emotion and consciousness. I believe we are naturally compassionate and empathetic, and we build up defenses as we go along in life and get hurt. We give away our power. We make ourselves smaller in order to fit into a picture we have in our heads that has nothing to do with our souls. We are told that what we believe on a raw, instinctual level is wrong and we are steered away from that innate knowing. I am not saying, of course, that everyone and everything takes us away from what we know. But there is a tendency to want to connect by minimizing ourselves and our light and taking on others’ pain. It is hard work to parse out what is our emotion and what is tangled up in someone else’s. Healing and interdependence can come from many places, and their crux, where the warmth and unconditional love lives, is in our own hearts. We can look around outside ourselves for this love, but if it’s not in us, we feel empty and alone.

I have been thinking so much about the interplay of my own heart and giving to and receiving from others and nourishing solitude and fulfilling relationships. When I look at the bare, skeletal trees against the sky that holds winter light, I feel connected to an immeasurable and indescribable beauty that exists alongside grief and despair. Everything is together in this place, there is no separation between the grief we feel about our own lives and the world and the joy we feel. The stark tree against the sky accepts itself, holds its roots in the ground, and bears the cold of winter. It is not self-conscious, thinking it needs to be all dressed and leaved.

One of my Solstice blessings for myself and everyone is to trust ourselves. Trust our own experience and not let anyone or anything take that from us. We all have a gorgeous power that comes from knowing ourselves and trusting that only we know how we feel, in our emotions, bodies and spirits. Not letting anyone define that for us. We are alive, embodied spirit. Along with having spiritual confidence, and defining our experiences for ourselves, we can also be humble. We don’t know everything, so to listen and be open is a gift. This balance between standing firm in our own space, taking up that space and knowing we breathe and live and exist, and knowing our connection to everything and everyone is powerful and healing.

In a world where there is such inequality and the quality of lives is so disparate, it is up to us to right the ship.

It may start with dread and fear and despair. And then we get sick of dread, of constant fear of the wrong things, of living in fear, of the mire of being pulled down into the darkness over and over, of the denial of freedom and courage. We must move into a place of freedom and courage and stand up for those for all living beings. When one of us is not free, we are all not free.

There has been a shift from pain to joy. This is a simple shift in mechanical terms, but the work it took to get here is immense and complex, like a maze. The truth of joy, now that it is apparent, is simple and comforting and bright and gentle. I have lived my life for meaning and to understand—mostly, why I have been allowed to have such a good life when so many others suffer unspeakable horrors. I am not sure how to live when there is a lack of freedom, oppression, prejudice, hatred in the world. It seems a simple thing, to live a life, but it is not simple at all and the body and psyche move along the boundary line between life and death as if coding a sacred text that cannot be read until the next generation.

Fear is a delicate and powerful emotion. It serves a healthy purpose and it can also lead us away from our true calling, what we feel is right, the courage to speak up for our beliefs. Fear has served me well in my life. A lot of times, I have been afraid of the right things. I have always had a healthy degree of fear that alerted me to real dangers and led me away from them. And it has also driven me down into darkness from which I thought I would never emerge.

I am trying to write clearly and honestly about something that is very new to me, a desire and commitment to joy. I have been committed to having depth, meaning, love in my life. But joy has been elusive. I have been happy, but being truly happy has scared me. So the fear and joy were together and never far from each other. Now I move into being joyful without fear. When I say I am committed to this, I am committed to joy for all beings. I do not think of joy or pain or fear as being only personal emotions. We are connected so deeply with each other and we are affected deeply by each other.

All of the pain and joy that we feel is a connection to other pain and joy and it is also a connection to light. We are connected through our pain. When we feel pain, it connects us to every other being that has been alive, and everything is alive, we are connected to the whole world, the entire universe. The glimmering bursts of color on the horizon, beginning out of nothingness, a blackness that is pronounced and certain, and like all certainties, fades into its other shapes–doubt, sunlight, faith, day, morning, sunrise, stretching over shining orb to create again and again the beginnings of existence.

We can and must speak up and out and move forward in the direction of creating a better world, peace, justice, balance, equality. The price of silence is too high. It is a denial of our humanity to remain silent when we feel so much pain. We must breathe and speak to honor those who could not. We can be afraid to speak out, but the cost of this to ourselves, our own souls and our world is too high. We can create a stable foundation of joy, peace, acceptance and gratitude in ourselves and bring this into the world. From this place, we can be honest about the grief we feel about the injustices and cruelty in the world. The cruelty of others makes us even more determined to speak, more dedicated to justice and equality and peace. Gratitude and love does not mean denying feelings of grief, fear, oppression, frustration, anger, and hopelessness. Gratitude and love are about fully living in this human existence and taking part in it. We can fall into despair, we can become depressed. I have been despairing a lot lately. That bleak, sharp edge is always there. It is part of living in a world that seems crazy and horrible sometimes. But there is also always beauty. There has to be. We must make beauty out of the fallen house, the burnt trees, the thirsty desert, and the melting glaciers by honoring and helping and saving. We can choose to honor nature, the ground we walk on and that gives us food, the sky above us and the breath in our body, the rain, the snow, the fires and the closest star that keep us warm, all other life and living beings on the planet, which is everything. Everything has a soul and a life. We make the choice to honor and respect over and over again, each day, adding our voice to the sound of justice and peace and true freedom and equality and safety for all beings.

#blacklivesmatter

by Arielle Guy

The sleeping dances with images of the Devil. The Tarot cards reveal what has not yet been fully understood. August light is hot and dense, usually—but this summer has been mild, with nights getting cool and we’ve been able to open windows. Insomnia is like this—a deep, dark devil that uncurls itself like smoke. Not invisible, it is seen by the naked eye and startles us as we drift off. This is part of the Dreamland.

Here is the part that floats—the burned part of the skin that becomes numb. This is from being hurt one too many times so that all the petals close tightly around the bud. There is still light. There is always light. We’ve learned this. Through weather and trees and autumn and summer and depression and grief. The light is always there.

We feel it in our thumbs, as we stretch out our hands after a long afternoon of writing. We visit the wild grasses in times of war. We know war in our bones, the way we know peace. The air is gray with anxiety and the clouds are heavy. The rain comes and lightning and thunder. For several hours in the morning, the sky is bright and baby blue, the color of an innocence that no longer exists in the human realm. But then we come back to the place where the soul starts, an overgrown path, thick with weeds and large, flat, round stones. We make our way through the tall and taller foliage, the leaves are glorious and lush and a shade of green from the time when the earth was just born. This is where the path starts. We hear the low moan of unknown animals.

This is the way the earth changes. The earth and the soul. The way the trees bow away from each other to let in viscous rays of sunlight. Honey-thick, they pour down through this newly discovered ancient forest as we get lost on the unmarked trails.

The war has ended in one place and begins in another. We are hopeful people. We begin again and again, in a state of peace. We continue to breathe as others cease. Their breaths become part of a blanket that is held between earth and sky, disintegrating into stars and blackness, the eternal dark spaces that hold death.

We open up into a noncorporeal form without form, just light. The light becomes brighter and brighter. We stay here, floating and emitting, for a while. Then we return to do our work on the earth.

There are three worlds, at least. There are many worlds. We live with our feet on the ground of the earth and our lungs breathing in the air of the heavens. The air of the atmosphere. We build things. We tear them down. We are our own history and everyone else’s. We share heritage and identity and we are our own heritage and identity. We come to a place where it is cold and no one is there. We light a fire on our own in the vast, horizonless tundra. It is 60 below. We have on a parka and the only part of our form that is visible is our eyes, full of warmth and humanity and sight. The fire is bright and warm. We connect with our own soul again.

We find a pattern in the snow, in the sand, in the dirt. We trace it with our fingers, with a stick, with a branch. We become fossils. We crumble into the earth. These are our graves. These are our graves, filling with dirt as the people above ground sing and pray. They will bring food they cooked to the house for a week. The family will look through a veil of grief that will then fall apart to let in some light. For a while, the curtains and shades will always be drawn. Then one day, someone will tie them back and pull the string to raise the olive green cloth into accordion pleats at the top of each window.

We find a way to hold death against the window as a silhouette, a paper doll taking the shape of the inanimate. The animate taking the form of the inanimate. Sleep taking the form of a kind of death, beating against the windows as rain, as tree branches, as wind. The dead communicating with the living. We drift off to sleep to the sound of cars on the streets outside, idling at the traffic light then engines starting up again, driving away in the direction that all sound moves, toward silence and the dimension that exists beyond human thought. The place where death and life are indistinguishable and we have a cup of coffee on the sandstone balcony overlooking all the cities that have ever been.