Time to PRAY RAIN people

"and there it is...just like that...superpower of the day--the power to  pray--check in with spirit, sense what my own heart is calling for and  resonate in that zone for a few minutes.  it can't show up unless it  knows i want it right? so unless i spend some energy calling it in,  sensing what it feels like, how i feel doing it--even when i don't know  what "it" is right now"  as i stated  A  few weeks ago.

Well let me say how much it seems i learn this one over and over; be really clear about the things i say or way i resonate my sense of being in prayer because, boy oh boy does it come on through when i ask for it.  And i have been "askin for it" for weeks now.  Stuff has been showing up left and right, begging the questions...is this what you wanted, how about this,  ok how about this now, and this one, let's try this bit on for size.  the universe hasn't been kidding around bringing me so many "answers to prayer" for me to try on that i haven't felt settled for ages.  But this other message--not the frenetic, chaotic one that tests me lately--but a glimpse into the space of connection, creating a unity and wholeness of spirit has appeared in my inbox (LITERALLY) and i want to share this bit here as well...

       "The deeply shifting intention on the planet Earth is creating an atmosphere of "perceived" chaos – Yes, the financial structures are failing, however, is that really what you are trying to protect here? Structures that have been set into place over time under misguided intention of "more is better". The Earth's core is shifting, creating quaking which results in volcanoes, earthquakes, unusual weather patterns and interactions, however it is like She is waking up after a sleep of nightmarish proportion. The greed of humanity, letting love and pure intention fall behind in value, has created the need to stretch and shake off the copasetic, passive pose of "whatever".
         The analogy – actually not analogy – the Truth of being transmitters is key. Plant your feet firmly on the ground and with intention – arms raised or not – transmit the Earth's needs into the air. Let her release through you as a loving conduit. In the same way, you will be transmitting to her the Universe's reply to her pleas. This two-way "radio" communication being conducted by living, breathing, loving energy is healing for both the distressed sender and the return broadcast from abroad – and we mean abroad in a very, very, expansive way Dear One.
         This role cannot be underestimated. There need be no interpretation of the message either way – there is no "code" to break. Pure intention, child-like joy-filled peace and harmony resonation is the most effective non-filter for this work. Out of mind and through the sacred heart. This is "our" task at hand now."  

And so i take my stand--deeply connecting to the filtering, cleansing, magnifying power of mother earth;(this is more than just a "be the ball" visualization, it is the pure practice of actually feeling the sweet flow of the river of manifesting as it becomes what i am in the now--much like the naugal wise man who didn't pray FOR rain, he just prayed rain, sensing, gushing feeling being rain, until it actually did.)

Transmitting my own prayer with a consciousness i haven't been this keenly aware of until now.  Gotta love it when a message in your inbox states it that easily right?  can't ask for a more clear delivery of intent than that!:)

out of the frying pan--like a phoenix

what an absolute shitstorm of emotion and depth-plunging this week has been!!!! just before the new year i attended a little workshop about the phoenix, the idea being to get really clear for the new year about what things i would like to be consumed by the fire of the past to ignite the intentions for the new year. i came away with a great sense of purpose and the beginnings of some great clarity for 2009. there is so much i want to do and be this year and i'm so excited to be in the middle of that.

my excitement got the better of me and the hailstorm of energy i brewed up with all my clear intentions and new year's goals has ridden over me this week with the force of the mythical twelve horsemen. (i don't even know that myth, or if it is 12, but the reference sounds perfect here doesn't it?--feel free to submit the appropriate mythical reference if you know it better than i) my phoenix day of creation took place on the new moon in december, and last night--the night of the world's hugest full moon--with 2 rainbows encirlcling it, my new year hit it's biggest bang of new beginning energy--tearing my foundations out by the roots, pulling tears from eyes in torrential floods, sobs from my heart with bone-breaking strength and , quelquefois, stoic stillness that would break the heart of any stone giant.

how does a little lama survive the pain and passion of this creation? one of my godsent and supportive sisters refused to take --"back the fuck-off" for an answer and continued to text me during this storm asking how she could possibly help and support me. i don't know how i can possibly help myself, how can i move from the old, into the new without completely breaking appart--so i didn't have any answer for her. however, somewhere from the eye of the storm and within the madness of knowing there had to be a way to get out of the hurricane--i felt a tiny, little answer from within..."it is time to batten down the hatches my darling". this is not the most comforting of answers i have ever received mind you. i was looking for something along the lines of..."this too shall pass", "go to such and such address and ask for guru so and so, while balancing on one foot and staring into the wind all your problems will be solved" or "three days more and you will be perfect" these are answers that might make it o.k. for me to batten down my hatches and sit tight during this storm--but just the thought of weathering the storm without the comfort of perfection on the other end did not feel like meat enough for me to sink my teeth into.

yet--something on the inside is responding, warming to the idea, relaxing into the space just a tiny bit. Now the next thing i'm going to say is making me laugh even to think about it--a welcome change of mood certainly--so if a little upcurling sneaks to outer edges of your lips on this one, then indulge with complete abandon...odly--a 1980'S rockin' superballad comes to mind..."i'm holding out for a hero" ... skipping all the obvious and mundane ideas that i am waiting for some superhero to sweep me off my feet and rescue me from the darkness within i offer the following video for indulgence, reference, mood-changing and musical power to change energy when words alone won't do...



all that being said--here's today's bottom line... i was the one who called in all sorts of change of epic proportions, i'm the one who lay down on the symbollic bed when i could clearly see the damn thing was burning out of control, i jumped on the back of the phoenix in an attempt to survive the flames--so batten down the hatches lama--january might singe the wingtips just a bit, but keep it in perspective--would you rather be back in december drowning in poseidon's flood?
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Now playing: Ben E. King - Stand by Me
via FoxyTunes

The sway of genius...

i will be the first to admit that it has been too damn long since i have spent any real time writing. personal writing time has been incredibly limited of late; however, i will say that i have come to the coffee shop at least 6 times in the past few months with the intent of getting a little introspective, drinking a little warm brew and seeing what comes out of the mix. i did the same thing this morning and what rose to the top? 3 hours of responding to personal e-mail, visiting friends' blogs that i haven't seen for ages, reading a few chapters in books that have been buried under finance reports, spreadsheets and business requirements documents.

and through it all a few thoughts finally took form that felt like something to share more than something to pack away for later...

one e-mail i got held a simple personal call to action... or sort of action, really more an internal attitude adjustment whenever we/i feel action might be required...

T.I.T.L.
"trust in the love"

when faced with the pressures of life, the pain or adversity or joy that shows up in our relationships, interactions, internal journeys and public endeavors--the admonition to see that love is at the root of all these experiences builds the lens and the attraction that love really does conquer all.
when life comes at you in the full force that it has a tendency to do, how can we respond/interpret/act in a way that becomes something we can embrace as a means of helping us on our way to happiness and fulfillment? Turning this question on myself, i love the portence of the quiet statement above. it beckons me to trust that life is always holding me in a sincere and purposeful, loving embrace. the intention for all of the experiences that life sends at me is to find the love there, the beauty, the support, the means of holding me in the greatest aspect of caring and fulfillment that i welcome as a method of learning life's lessons and moving into the fullest and most joyful expression of me.

in my reading today i came across a quote from Heraclitus--predating socrates and plato, "ethos anthropoi daimon". meaning can be interpreted in ways too numerous to count, but for me today the path i went down was this...

frequently interpreted to mean "character determines fate", i meandered through the possibility that character is something we build, it takes an infinite number of tiny moments; becomes much more the wave than the particle, and this for me is the "sway" with which we walk. not just our physical step, but our internal urgings, emotional responses, unique means of being in the world.
along with the sway comes our personal call to perform--not just the loud, public, celebrated performance that sometimes defines a man or woman; but the intimate, constant, glorious and terrible pursuit of our own genius that creates the path of the soul.

so for me this is the sway of genius--daily essence of self moving towards the inner call of the soul, in tiny- inner heartbeats, infinite strokes of genius, creating our own path of learning; may not be extreme, may not be famous, may not ever seemingly appear to deviate from the norm, but we know on the inside how we respond to our own essential call to genius. how we match the burning inner need to realize certain aspects of our own genius on this journey through life.

it was the tiny and meaningful statement of "trust in the love" that honed this realization for me today. life is built to love us/me into the most perfect sway our/my own genius can create. there was a photo accompanying this Trust In The Love...the author's child in a pumpkin patch, how else can this beautiful child behave than to trust that pumpkins will grow, mom will think he is amazing, dad will tear up when he balances on his bike and souls will rejoice as he grows in love!!!(i hope she won't mind that i included that picture bursting with potential above.)

"All life is sorrowful; there is however an escape from sorrow; the escape is Nirvana – which is a state of mind or consciousness, not a place somewhere, like heaven. It is right here, in the midst of the turmoil of life. It is the state you find when you are no longer driven to live by compelling desires, fears, and social commitments, when you have found your center of freedom and can act by choice out of that. Voluntary action out of this center is the action of the bodhisattvas – joyful participation in the sorrows of the world. "
The Power of Myth Joseph Campbell

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Now playing: Peter Cincotti - Sway
via FoxyTunes

Life on Earth...

(follow this journey forward to chapter 2)

My journey this year has been one of quite intricate and beautiful weave. i'm so completely grateful for all the stitches and right now particularly aware of a new pattern that emerges in the fabric. i was called on to write a bit of the old tale last year and it feels somehow appropriate now to share it as i am called to enter a new weave. i hope you enjoy reading it as much as i did discovering it:)

So long ago when time was measured not by hours and minutes, but by the star’s passings of the moon, a girl child lived in the halls of the palace of the gods. How she had come to live there, no one can exactly remember; only to say that it seemed she had always been there, tread the halls ever so lightly, peaking from behind doors, finding tiny passageways which must have been constructed for some purpose, but had gone unused for so long that not only couldn’t anyone remember their purpose, really no one but the girl could even remember they were still there.
Many servants had come and gone; grown old in the service of the palace, and they were always the ones to notice a pair of mary- janes abandoned at the threshold of the courtyard, a game of jacks left to scratch the fine ebony floors of the grand ballroom, or a window left ajar too close to the scribes’ ink in the library causing it to dry out much too quickly. The gods were always questioning who had left such a mess or been so careless, but they didn’t hold their breath for an answer, knowing the servants were quick to scurry behind their own footsteps, cleaning up whatever mess had been left behind or caused too much of a stir.
The goddess of the great dance hall, Chatelaine, was particularly known for calling the servants to clean up one mess or another. Her particular favorites—servants that is— were Fate and Destiny. These two had a way of filling the hall with music, making sure all the guests were well looked after and that all those with a dance card had filled it out in time to enter the Reel, everyone’s favorite dance, a beautiful and intricate pattern interweaving and crossing partners for its duration. Chatelaine was an exceptional dancer, and the girl child watched her in awe as she dressed in gowns of silk and damask, deftly filled her dance card with the most handsome beaus and glided among the party goers with Ease and Grace. Ease and Grace were two of Chatelaine’s most constant companions; ladies-in-waiting who attended their mistress to perfection. The girl child had watched many times from behind a floral screen as preparations for the evening’s events proceeded. Funny though, even when she sat right on the hearth to watch, it was as if she were a statue or little pet animal who went entirely unnoticed.
One evening, warming herself by the hearth and going typically unnoticed as Chatelaine prepared for the ball, the child dropped her jaw in awe when Valiant and Griffin, two of the lesser gods who often were away on noble errands to earn favor, entered the room dressed in palace finery to pay their respects. Their coats were clearly of a new fashion; woven of the finest silks and delicate sea moss. It was clear the two had been at sea and seen and done many amazing things on their quest. The child sat up quite straight from her game of Fox and Chicks to listen to what tales these two might have to tell. She was eager to know of their adventures abroad. But as they began to regale those in the hall with tidbits of the high seas, the child was overcome by fatigue and no matter how hard she tried to stay awake was lulled by the warmth of the fire and fell into a deep slumber.
It was not until the early morning when the guests had long since returned to their chambers that Constance, the morning chaplain, pressed the child’s shoulders just enough to wake her, whispering it was time to rise and tend to her own daily chores before she could be left to her own devices. Try as she might that day, it always seemed to the girl as if she were entering the room too late, or having to leave a table too early to hear a proper account of the twins’ tales from the night before. And so she was left to her own imaginings to determine what glorious times they had at sea.
This pattern continued for lifetimes—the girl living the life of one of the gods, sitting at their table, dressed in their finery, served by their servants, but never growing into a position of acknowledgement or import—always the child and interloper.
One morning the child awoke to the strangest sensation. It was if she were Sleeping Beauty, and the entire castle was asleep because she had pricked her finger—only that wasn’t quite it because she should also be asleep if that were the case. The child wandered through the hall of the palace and found everyone else deep in slumber. All the gods and servants, even the animals were sleeping. She was extremely worried and tried mightily to awaken or stir even one person—she would have been happy with simple Constance to talk to at that point, but to no avail…the spell they slept under was much stronger than the medicine she had in her power to wake them.
And so, after many tears, the child’s crying dried up—she looked around and began to try all the things she thought she had been missing. She tried on all the most exquisite dresses in Chatelaine’s closet, and then deserted them on the floor of the dressing room. She even ventured into the great hall of the Hunt where the roar-like exclamations Lord Brunehinter had always frightened her too much to enter. Here she found the most amazing and terrifying things she had ever seen. It turned out that Brunehinter was a master of the hunt and took great pride in displaying his trophies stuffed and staged in lifelike stances throughout the hall. Never having left the palace, the child wasn’t aware that such beautiful and powerful creatures even existed. Once having seen the lovely beasts, she was overcome by an amazing sorrow for their unpurposed deaths and resolved to improve the plight of their kin.
With this vow in her heart child determined she would leave the palace to see if there was anyone or anything awake anywhere else. Having never left the palace before, the girl had no idea that she should leave through the great doors at the entrance of the grand hall, and in truth, these doors were so massive, so firm and unmoving that she never could have budged them using her bicep strength. But this thought didn’t occur to the girl as she pressed open the intricate wooden shutters at the top of the grand staircase; these she had seen the servants open many times, and once had even ventured out into the courtyard when Chance, the gardener, had inadvertently left them open, but Constance had quickly spotted her and rushed her back inside.
—Now the story has long been told of how it was discovered that child had been living in the palace for years undetected--- When the girl stepped onto the patio her feet recoiled in shock and perhaps a bit of delight as she stomped through a field of tiny white crystals. By the time she got to the garden wall her delight had turned to concern as she finally realized her feet were cold and the bright with crystals of snow had cut into her pristine feet so sharply that her toes had begun to bleed. It was at this point that the girl finally thought of a good reason to actually wear the shoes that were always showing up at the foot of her bed. So on painstaking tip toes she returned to her room, through the snow, down the gallery, up the residence staircase and into the living chambers of the gods. Here she searched for just the right pair of shoes to put on. Through all of her searching she trailed little crimson toe prints, a silent witness to her passing that screamed quite loudly, eventually waking everyone in the palace and finally betraying her presence there.
But by this time the child had long since wandered into Morelia’s rooms, goddess of wing-ed flight. She had always seen her coming and going through the royal kitchens with so many beautifully appointed garments. The child often made a game of following Morelia as far as the kitchen garden wall before cook scolded her for leaving the door open and rushed her back inside. Following the goddess Morelia had always been a delight for the child and she yearned for the freedom to go past the kitchen wall—filling her pockets with delicacies, carrying bags and packages containing all the mysteries of her days beyond the wall. Now in Morelia’s chamber, the child hopped in triumph as she dressed in a thick-soled pair of riding boots which made an ever-so-clever clicking noise as the child walked; just like the horses down at the stables. The child then wrapped herself in a warm and very soft and voluminous fur stole; smelling faintly of nutmeg and mint from hanging in cold storage in the barn where Morelia had herself retrieved it just that morning thinking she would wear it to meet with the artisan’s guild later in the week. Alas, she would wear it no more, for the child slipped her feet into the boots and her arms into the warm coat-sleeves, and grabbing an empty basket and bag or two—something Morelia always did before leaving the palace—she joyously clicked her heals all the way downstairs into the kitchen. From Morelia’s chamber the telltale spots of blood disappeared in exchange from bits of dried mud shed from the sole of the boots down the back staircase, out the kitchen door and over the garden wall. Here she dropped a fine lapel pin that had been attached to her coat; it had belonged to Morelia’s mother, Florence—who had sung so beautifully whenever asked to, that the palace had retired her favorite aria when she passed out of the time of stars and moons.
Throwing her legs over the garden wall, the child didn’t think for one moment of taking the garden gate, and was suddenly overtaken by true emotion for the first time in her life. It was true that she had only just had her first experience with pain, but feeling the pain accentuated her glorious intake of breath as she left behind the old and unimpassioned life of perfection in the palace of the gods. Stepping onto terra firma the girl felt a tear of joy slide down her cheek, she quickly brushed it away with certainly as she jauntily made her way into the land and field and forest beyond the world of the palace.

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Now playing: Paul McCartney - This Never Happened Before
via FoxyTunes

all the answers

i feel quite certain there will be more on this topic to follow, but felt compelled to get this little bit down as the thought occurred...

in my last entry i had this burning question feel about how i could find the time, give the concentration, etc. etc. etc.--i have realized it is these questions that are the problem, not my answers, or lack thereof whatsoever.

rather i assert this theory--just spend 8 days with absolutely no plans on the coast of baja, california, see how quickly all those silly questions fall into perspective--or just fall away altogether. it's amazing how simply living is such a gift. gratitude to the universe--little lama is truly blessed!!!!

i don't think there's any question that the world's hugest blazing orange, full moon rising out of the sea of cortez can't bring into perspective, i'm just sayin'... "i would gaze at your face the whole night through..."