Sunday, October 24, 2010

6 Degrees of Indra's Net

     Sometimes i think if i were a composer and notes were words it might be easier to sit at the piano to write my thoughts; I would just be the music inside pouring onto the page.  With that in mind' i sing this little tune...

It's been hard to write this month; the music is a little dissonant and i feel sort of in the "thick of the trees", but it's in the writing that the song streams again and i get a better view of the "forest". Life never ceases to amaze me with how intricately its purposes weave through all our many connections.  How the 6 degrees of separation between one person i know and another are not just accidental degrees and when Indra's net of connectivity reveals how much we each are a part of the ONE.  the line in the pattern of the weave that connects me from one to another always tempts me to pick through the intricate design;
how the melody flows from one person to another; one experience to the next; always building on those chords and making the refrain that much more sweet?
This week I went to an earthshaking, heart-beating, drumming, healing night of greatness.  The drummer who began our beat, Toby Christensen (introduced to me by a friend from home), told the group of his own learning in a time spent travelling and exploring his gift with a woman from the West African Dagara tribe.  The further he got into his story, rhythms and beats i realized he was speaking of one of my dearest teachers in 9 Gates Mystery School.

Sobonfu Some 

As Toby began our night of drumming, i set my intention for a rhythmic prayer of healing and with this layer of meaning and relationship i joined in the soul-clarifying work of the drum for myself and so many in my circle-- lessons i recognized from my own study with Sobonfu.

This night of drumming stands out as a pivotal moment between the struggle for understanding i have felt in the past few weeks and the guidance this struggle gives as i prepare to return for another journey in my mystery school training.

in preparation for this journey, I've been clearing through the pressing work on my desk.  this week marked the beginning of our year end campaign for donations, and i began a series of personal calls with major donors.  my deepest desire in these connections is to create a bridge between the heartgiving, passion building spaces of my donors to the needs and deep openings of my programs and their participants--a way to invite their own hearts' song by connecting through spirit and giving.  even as i write this part i start to laugh because the day i sat down to make these calls i lost my voice.  along with a strong cold that i have this week, came pretty intense laryngitis and i wasn't able to make a single call.  So i started writing e-mails, opening deeply to spirit and the words i felt guided to write to these donors.  really simple e-mails, but at the end of a few days of this process i realized what a strong gift the power this listening provides.  when in full voice, i typically find myself ready with some seemingly brilliant thought to share or guidance to offer...and through this week learned, on a much more present and demanding note, the power of listening intently with my heart and getting out of the thinking space of my brain.(a brain/ego set upon producing a clever bit of info or string of words)

Now as i sense the beat calling in the "tribe" of 9 gates--those souls who still unknown to eachother are already members of a deeply heart-bound tribe--i feel so blessed for the very real lesson of listening.  Returning with the intention of service i am so grateful to learn yet again how to get out of the way of old physical patterns which demand attention for the conversational brilliance of an egoic chatterbox, and opening to a deeper space of listening; opening to the opportunity of being of service, answering a request of need, recognizing the wisdom of spirit as it calls for what it needs and i make myself available to answer that call--truly both for myself and others.

Ah the space here of a sounding board, where words truly do become a rythmic song and all the coincidental and synchronistic moments of learning reveal their melodic weave.

Sunday, October 3, 2010

Gifts of the Desert

I feel quite certain Edward Abbey said something moving and brilliant about the gifts the desert freely gives; perhaps something like
how the sun and carrion scour our bones exposing a story our ivory is there to tell,
or maybe
the lavender hued shadows at dusk tempt us to look with the vision of owl, bat or mischievous coyote into the mystery where no sun's light casts our story into obvious relief. 
I invite you to seek out your favorite quote about these gifts(or write your own) and insert it here in your thoughts...(feel free to share if you are so inclined) for only you know exactly what mood and gift this moment asks to share with you.

this morning as i cleaned through a stack of papers in my room that clamor from somewhere deep within their pile "herein lies all the wisdom, all the answers, don't cast us away", but i'm never quite sure what to do with--i found the following birthday gift emerging to be heard and read and held, and it felt the perfect way to honor the turning of the season from birthday to autumn, from introspection to pruning and preparing for hibernation whence seeds germinated begin their coiling stretch in DNA code long since buried that ignites us all--and so i share it with you in joyful celebration of its expression.

from tessa at my birthday
Desert sun, radiant watch
the eye amidst the grass.
Stretching forth, the gnarled branch.
It holds the last rich seed.
An ancient crane, its song a sacred melody to the woman's bone.
The shadow of the red cliffs cradles,
ever holding, ever strength.
And high above, 
sent from the wind, 
a silhouette that calls you round.
A message from yourself.
You've seen its face and feel the stone.
The Place.

--in reaction,
a heart filled with tearful blessedness,
hearing the crane's cry, seeing the woman's bone
cradled deeply in red cliff's shadow
a message from self--this shadow stalks me,
warrior, shaman, sage
silhouette ever with me, silently willing and waiting to be heard
i am blessed and grateful indeed.