Monsanto and Mystery - Seeds Growing in the Quantum Field

Recent news of the Supreme Court siding with Monsanto in a case involving an elderly farmer reminded me of a scene dream from which I awoke recently.  This particular scene was set at a fair, not one of today's ride-filled fairs, but a fair of yesteryear at which agriculture was emphasized.  

In the scene I was at the fair looking at a large poster with two circles on it.  I knew the circles were actually seeds.  One seed was solid black and the other was equally half black and half white. They were on exhibit at the fair.

I wondered what this meant until this week when it occurred to me the seed was once considered a mystery.  People honored and held sacred these specks and orbs of various sizes from which food and flowers grew.  The sacred mystery of growing things was symbolized by the black circle in the dream.

Centuries passed and humankind moved into a period of dissecting, manipulating and mastering seed in the laboratory.  Thanks to patents, politics, money, power and greed seed can now be owned by corporations.  I think of farmers of days gone by and how puzzled they might be by corporations now owning the rights to seed.
 
What was fueled by scientific curiosity has led to a global curiosity - 3 corporations own and thus control over half of the worlds' seeds.

How did this happen?  How did we let this happen?  What were we doing as they worked behind the scenes ensuring protections for corporations in regards to these things?  Is it as simple as we were shopping, eating fast food, watching tv and being entertained?

The second circle in my dream seems to be where we have landed presently.  We are divided into black and white, good guys and bad guys.  Corporate seed companies like Monsanto see those in my 'tribe' as the enemy and many in my tribe see companies like Monsanto as the enemy.  I do at times.

It's easy for me to think greed motivates those at the top of Monsanto's chain yet what about those doing the actual work in labs.  It seems they are playing God manipulating seeds yet many I suspect are being God as they consider their work being about loving people and providing food. Not everyone connected to Monsanto is 'bad.'  Actually no one at Monsanto is 'bad' completely come to think of it.

Hang with me here.  This good guy/bad guy thing of course goes way beyond seed companies, you and me. We hear and see evidence of the good guy/bad buy split everywhere.  We buy security systems to protect us from 'bad' guys yet 'bad' people in those 'protected' homes abuse family members and themselves.  We lock 'bad' guys away yet often the ones trying the cases legally are 'bad' guys themselves.

What's even more curious to me is another aspect of the good/bad split.  Just about every bad guy walking Mother Earth is another person's 'good' guy. Think about it.  The corrupt CEO or official is a mother/father/child's 'good' guy.  In other words they are loved by someone even as I harbor strong negative feelings regarding their behaviors.  The thief and pimp were once loved by someone, a mother, father, grandmother, aunt, who very likely still loves them. 
I wasn't shown a third seed of what's next in this dream but I suspect it's the seed that's been growing in energy's quantum field over time.  I suspect it would be more akin to the dot that is solid, a circle of sacred mystery that you and I are here to call forth and cultivate.

I, like many, believe we have as souls chosen to arrive at this time on Earth.  Many of us are here to hold the all of both sides and see if something greater can emerge from holding both the black and white and all between the two. 

Holding possibility in the unknown, the light in the darkness we grow more than just food. We grow souls, souls that will question, really listen, learn and look at what they're being fed on all levels from the food they eat to the content they consume through the internet and tv. We grow people who learn to think for and feed themselves. We grow hearts that break open in love and shed tears whether those tears be of sorrow, pain, joy or compassion. We grow souls willing to embrace the sacred mystery unfolding on Earth in this time through you and through me.

We grow souls that are willing to Grow!

-Dawn, The Good News Muse  23 May 2013

dawn@imaginetheshift.com

Monsanto and Mystery - Seeds Growing in the Quantum Field

Recent news of the Supreme Court siding with Monsanto in a case involving an elderly farmer reminded me of a scene dream from which I awoke recently.  This particular scene was set at a fair, not one of today's ride-filled fairs, but a fair of yesteryear at which agriculture was emphasized.  

In the scene I was at the fair looking at a large poster with two circles on it.  I knew the circles were actually seeds.  One seed was solid black and the other was equally half black and half white. They were on exhibit at the fair.

I wondered what this meant until this week when it occurred to me the seed was once considered a mystery.  People honored and held sacred these specks and orbs of various sizes from which food and flowers grew.  The sacred mystery of growing things was symbolized by the black circle in the dream.

Centuries passed and humankind moved into a period of dissecting, manipulating and mastering seed in the  laboratory.  Thanks to patents, politics, money, power and greed seed can now be owned by corporations.  I think of farmers of days gone by and how puzzled they might be by corporations now owning the rights to seed.
 
What was fueled by scientific curiosity has led to a global curiosity - 3 corporations own and thus control over half of the worlds' seeds.

How did this happen?  How did we let this happen?  What were we doing as they worked behind the scenes ensuring protections for corporations in regards to these things?  Is it as simple as we were shopping, eating fast food, watching tv and being entertained?

The second circle in my dream seems to be where we have landed presently.  We are divided into black and white, good guys and bad guys.  Corporate seed companies like Monsanto see those in my 'tribe' as the enemy and many in my tribe see companies like Monsanto as the enemy.  I do at times.

It's easy for me to think greed motivates those at the top of Monsanto's chain yet what about those doing the actual work in labs.  It seems they are playing God manipulating seeds yet many I suspect are being God as they consider their work being about loving people and providing food. Not everyone connected to Monsanto is 'bad' and I need to be reminded of this at times.

I wasn't shown a third seed of what's next in this dream but I suspect it's the seed that's been growing in energy's quantum field over time.  I suspect it would be more akin to the dot that is solid, a circle of sacred mystery that you and I are here to call forth and cultivate.

I, like many, believe we have as souls chosen to arrive at this time on Earth.  Many of us are here to hold the all of both sides and see if something greater can emerge from holding both the black and white and all between the two. 

Holding possibility in the unknown, the light in the darkness we grow more than just food. We grow souls, souls that will question, really listen, learn and look at what they're being fed on all levels from the food they eat to the content they consume through the internet and tv. We grow people who learn to think for and feed themselves.

Will you hold and call forth to grow the seed of this sacred mystery with me?

-Dawn, The Good News Muse  23 May 2013

dawn@imaginetheshift.com

The Magicalness of Being

I try to be patient with people but yesterday near the beginning of the Human Trafficking Conference here in Nashville, I walked to a nearby table to ask a man to stop whispering to another.  I sat for several minutes mentally rehearsing what was best to say in this situation. 

Finally I mustered, "When you talk, I have a hard time hearing the speaker."  The man who had been talking was immediately apologetic as the other I realized had a hearing issue of sorts.

They got up and moved to a table on the far side of the room and I felt temporarily horrible not because I had done anything wrong but because I potentially made these two men feel bad. That was so far from my intent.

During a very brief break between speakers, I walked over and apologized. I quickly explained that with some tones I personally have a hard time hearing.  That's when I learned the second man was actually from another country and didn't speak English. His friend was interpreting.
 
I came home early and went to bed thinking I wouldn't be returning to the conference because I didn't feel well. Instead I awoke feeling surprisingly cured and made it to the Opryland area by 9:00 where to my surprise during the break I saw the two men coming toward me with smiles.

Kazwan from California introduced himself and gave me his brother-in-law's business card. Dr. Al-Sammarraie is a human rights researcher in Qatar in Nashville for the conference.  Through his brother-in-law he spoke of trafficking in the Middle East as it relates to boys purchased from impoverished countries and enslaved to be jockey's in camel races similar to our horse races.

Kazwan continued interpreting as we talked about the power of love to alter the world, the mystery of these times and the importance of using tools such as the internet for good in connecting the myriad of souls like ourselves working to be lights in the world.

In the midst of my talking and Kazwan's interpreting, his brother-in-law referred to my talking about the 'magicalness of being.'   The Magicalness of Being.  Isn't that a beautiful phrase?

As dear souls, we come here knowing the "magicalness of being" and all too early too often this gets repressed, lost and forgotten to varying degrees for a variety of reasons.  Some of us loose this magic through the education system as academic competition results in quiet shame for not measuring up to one's peers. Others loose the magic through trauma and abuse, emotionally, mentally and sexually resulting in shame and internal disconnects. I often think mood altering substances and experiences (legal and illegal) are really ways to try to return to this once known state.   The "magicalness of being" isn't renewed by living busy, buy-lots-of-stuff lives while tucked away in our homes with our faces in digital devices cut off from Nature and from human contact with those we love and are important to us.  

For me the experience I had with these two men was infused with the "magicalness of being."  You may judge me as over reacting or overly sensitive but in my younger years I would have been mortified for what occurred and probably would not have approached them out of my own embarrassment.  This time I did what came naturally to my 'being' which led to our further exchange and hearing this beautiful phrase.

This for me is at least one aspect of the magicalness of being - being ourselves, showing up and staying awake each in our own personal journey.

Call me naive, call me unrealistic but I believe the 'magicalness of being' holds keys to so many of today's ills.

-Dawn, The Good News Muse, 24 May 2013

dawn@imaginetheshift.com

Time Heals

Gradually over the last two years, the paint around the heart on the tree down the street has been diminishing.  At first I didn't want the heart painted.  It was enough to see the outline in the wound left by a missing limb.

The couple that lives in the tree's house hadn't noticed the heart until they noticed me in the winter of 2010 sitting regularly by the heart during morning walks.  They asked if I might know of someone who would paint the heart. I thought they wanted a picture painted until I learned from the artist, my friend Susan, that they wanted the tree itself painted.

In time I realized the colorful dancing dots perfectly conveyed how Love's energy comes to Earth and is embedded in Nature.

I imagine the Divine Creator wondering: Will people notice or walk on by?  Will humans see the love's message in leaves of green or hear love's voice in crow, cardinal and blue jay? Will human's feel love's touch in the damp grass under their feet or the rough bark of the tree?  Will human's realize love?

This week I stopped by the tree and noticed the paint is diminishing in time.  Then another thought crossed my mind:  Pain is diminished likewise.

Time heals yet like the tree it doesn't erase the wound.

Time reveals, like my friend's colorful paints, the potential beauty in our wounds and the heart of love in all things.

-Dawn, The Good News Muse, Imagine the Shift - 14 May 2013

dawn@imaginetheshift.com

Show Us

View from Cherohala Skyway looking over the area once home to the Overhill Cherokee.

Mother Earth, show us what is wise.

Show us what is true.

Show us what is best 

for humankind and You.

Happy Mother's Day to All.

-Dawn, The Good News Muse 12 May 2013

dawn@imaginetheshift.com

How Does The Flame of Love Live In You?

This week as I lay with my head in Kelly's hands she exclaimed, "It feels like your head is on fire."  Although Kelly is an energy worker I highly trust, I did not share what came to me.

Our session ended and I walked into the waiting area to find Tony and Sheila. These three souls share office space.  I'm grateful they share 'space' in my journey.  

I hugged Tony and Sheila good bye.  I will not see them again before they depart for France.  As we exchanged hugs, I said, "Tell France I love her." Tony added, "And you'll be back soon."  I teared up at this.

On some level, I've still not gotten over coming home four years ago.  On the night of my 50th birthday I called Jerry in the states and told him I was uncertain I could come home. He knew I was serious.

I was not prepared for this and neither was he.  I came home and grieved for some time.

I had actually cried across France that trip, tears of joy and sorrow.  If anyone had told me how much I was going to cry I might not have gone in the first place.  The least I would have done would have been try to control my experience which is actually the worst thing I could have done. Fortunately I had my experience.

I was a doubter of prior lives until that trip.

A prior life is what flashed in my mind when Kelly said my head was on fire.  I remembered a dream in which I saw a man made to breathe fire as he was tortured.  I awoke sobbing from that scene for I knew this was not a dream.  I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt this was something I had witnessed in another time, in another life. 

The tears I shed in France remind me of our entry into earthly life.  As star souls, we know what we're volunteering for when we agree to come here yet upon arrival we forget.  If we really knew what it was going to be like to be in earthly bodies and in our hearts, would we still show up for life on earth?

I ask this because lately I cry daily.  I shed necessary tears when I read or see the news.  I shed necessary tears related to facebook pages about the intentional torturing and killing of wolves.  Monday I cried for Southern Illinois' 100 year old trees that are at high risk for falling into the hands of natural gas companies desirous of fracking the land.  And some days those tears are precipitated by events just outside my door.

Monday morning within forty feet of one another I found the shell of a robin's egg stolen I sensed by a crow or squirrel from the nest at the corner of the house. Steps away was a dead baby bird having fledged too soon or blown from its nest in the weekend's storm.  A few steps from it were the wings of a much larger bird.  Two days prior, I found a dead sparrow in my garden with its head neatly removed and a dear rose-breasted grossbeak dead on our deck. 

I cried and cried and cried.

Being in my heart at times seems like more than I can take until I stop as I did Monday.  Kneeling in my backyard, I placed the remains of those birds under our delicate ferns.  Immediately my tears turned to joy for honoring these birds reminded me of who I am. 

I was bearing witness just like I did in the scene of remembering a beautiful soul committed to coming to earth and staying true to Love even in torture and death.  (Recently I've begun to wonder if those who torture and kill were severely harmed in prior lives thus they in turn harm others now due to because of unconscious, repressed levels of hurt and fear.)

Then there are souls walking Earth at this time who are opposite those bound in unconscious fear.  They are the ones who also came to mind this morning as Kelly held my head.  

Animal Rescue Corp staff at the Animal Care Expo

I lay on her massage table quietly rejoicing in the earth angels gathered right now at Nashville's Opryland Hotel.  People from around the country are gathered for the Humane Society's "Animal Care Expo" including my friends with Animal Rescue Corp (ARC).  At this month's end, other earth angels will gather for the 3rd annual Trafficking in America conference to educate and share their work regarding sex trafficking.

In this moment I smile because these compassionate souls are some of the millions here on earth who are so very brave. There are so many more souls here now with stunning courage who have shown up in this time to lift Mother Earth and to create a shift starting here and spreading through the Universe.

In this moment, I smile even more deeply for I came home from Kelly's office and for some reason looked at my calendar.  The date was May 9, 2013, the day of  The Ascension.  It was the perfect day to have in Kelly's words "a head on fire."  On this day, Jesus ascended into the heavens and the flame of Love came to live with us.  

The flame of love burns in the hearts and minds of my friends with Animal Rescue Corp and the Humane Society as well as those who work in trafficking.  The flame of love burns in Kelly, Tony and Sheila and in Jerry who loves me alongside my grief over leaving my French heart's home.  I am grateful these earth angels take up 'space' in my journey.

And believe it or not, I'm grateful those who fear, hurt and hate take up 'space' in my journey too. It is through these people bound by such fear that my heart is laid open and stretched and I remember the compassion I hold within.   

Past lives, this life, my French and American lives in these living, loving, dying, birthing times remind me of the flame of love I carry and offer to those who heal, to the animals that live and those I bury and to the souls who cause such hurt because of their buried hurts.

In this time of Ascension, how does the flame of Love live in you?
 

 -Dawn, The Good News Muse at Imagine the Shift , 9 May 2013

dawn@imaginetheshift.com

Fleur de Lettuce - The Lily, Lotus, Lettuce and Us

(I wrote this piece before growing my own real lettuce.  I write real because in the last four years I've had raised beds with greens from seed packs labeled "lettuce" yet my lettuce would pass for microgreens due to their petite size. Now to my surprise and joy last fall's lettuce made it through winter and as one head nears eating-size, I am reminded of this story of Jay's gift of lettuce, fleur-de-lettuce as I called it.)

I had known Jay for nearly a year at the time.  On the linear time continuum, he was a fairly new friend, but on the big Time continuum it seems we’ve always known one another. Jay owns a nursery, but he also trades his eggs, or better said his hens’ eggs for my blueberry jam.  One visit he surprised me with this beautiful head of star romaine lettuce.

Upon arriving home, I took it out of the bag and oddly thought of the tower of Babel from a large illustrated Bible I won for selling so many somethings as an eight year old.  As I continued looking, I saw the French fleur de lis or in this case the fleur de lettuce.

Wait, to be truly honest after the tower and before le fleur, I stood in my kitchen and said aloud, “This symbolizes a penis rising out of a vagina.” I nearly edited that because it seems so strange but that is what I saw and said.

Now I look at the photo and see how I came up with a tower. I see structure, leaves layered upon one another like floors of a building reaching skyward, kin to our modern day multi-storied towers, from which we look out surveying the kingdom, modern man’s way possibly of still trying to reach or be God.

I also realize how I saw the male and female anatomy in the lettuce. I was seeing the masculine and feminine and there’s nothing actually strange about that. We don’t talk of food in this way, but this is how we are fed. Like the feminine, a seed lies in the soil, the stuff of Earth’s womb, receptively receiving until it is time, like the masculine, to take action. The star romaine models a balanced masculine and feminine birthing fruit from a joint endeavor.

I decided to read a bit about the fleur de lis and discover it has appeared in many civilizations and means not only "flower of the lily” but also “of the lotus” and signifies, “perfection, light and life.” What a beautiful, a holy trinity - the lily, lotus and lettuce.

Then I recall Jay said this was a star romaine. I went in search of the star and there it was on the part of the lettuce that had been nearest Mother Earth. I think of stars as being of the heavens and the Universe, but stars are energy and light. This makes me truly smile. The stuff of the stars lies in the dark, in the dark earth providing energy for the growth of the plants, nourishing our bodies and minds.

The beautiful head of lettuce, just as the fleur de lis, is truly perfection, light and life. The star romaine reminds us that we may seek God in the heavens, but the energy of the Divine is as close as our feet, loving home to us, providing the foods we eat.

Regardless of how we got here, Nature speaks a language that if we listen deeply we hear, a language of perfection, light and life found in the lily, lotus, lettuce and us.

It is not Babel. It is beautiful.

-Dawn! Imagine the Shift! 5/17/10 and 05/07/2013
dawn@imaginetheshift.com

If the Sweater Fits Why Didn't I Wear It?

The unusually cool May temperatures prompted my digging this sweater out of a drawer recently.   Like Joseph with the coat of many colors who was betrayed by his brothers, I've thought of this as my sweater of many colors. 

Wearing it recently though first prompted sadness.  I've hardly worn it since buying it at a London market in 1984.  Thirty years ago its colors complemented my hair.  My hair was brown then.  Today my hair is gray.  Strangers, acquaintances and friends periodically and randomly remind me.  People with white hair say, "Your hair's white."  People with dyed hair say, "Dawn, you're gray"  I've yet to add, "And what are you, really?"  or "What does that mean? Are you telling me I'm old?" whatever that means. 

Most days I feel ageless.  As for my hair, I didn't even realize it was gray until two years ago.  As I sat in a friend's home, she turned to her mother and said, "Hair is always darker when it's wet."  I don't recall the context in which this was shared.  All I know is in that moment I had a quiet, informative epiphany.  I realized the only time I really look in the mirror is when I'm drying my hair.  This combined with the fact that my bathroom walls are painted chocolate made me realize my hair was not as brown as I thought it was.

The sweater reminds me these colors don't quite complement my "new" hair as much as it once did.  Yet today it reminds me of something more important than hair color.  It reminds me of the adventurer I am, the me who early in life traveled to Europe, Russia and South Africa and has later in life backpacked into the Grand Canyon twice and is planning to return again.

The sweater fits, yet I have not worn it.  More importantly, if mySelf fits why have I not been me?

This sweater reminds me I have not always been myself.  I don't need Joseph's brothers or others to betray me.  Intermittently through life I have betrayed myself every time I have forgotten who I am, every time I stopped listening and disconnected  from my heart or tuned out what's really important because of fear.  My fear has run so quiet and deep.  

I have been sad at times that it took so long to try "Me" back on, yet there is beauty and grace that the me who bought this sweater is actually the me I have become.  Suddenly along Life's winding path, I have grown into the person who first bought this sweater, the Me I was born to be.  The sweater too is ageless.  It goes with the "New Me" which is the "Old Me" who purchased it in the first place. Its many colors remind me of who I really am. 

Who are you?  Does fear ever hold you back from doing something you feel called to or really want to do?  What keeps you from listening or tuning in to your heart's path?

I imagine for all of us the Shift of becoming more fully who we came here to be. 

-Dawn, The Good News Muse  7 May 2013

dawn@imaginetheshift.com

No Tears or Know Tears - When Films Remove Film

This photo is one of the last I took in France. I was standing outside the Lyon airport awaiting my departure for the states four years ago.  At the time my friend who was born in France asked me what I thought the structure looked like and I replied, "A butterfly."

Recently I awoke thinking of this photograph.  It and a particular thought were on my mind. The thought was, 'It's film. It's movie film.' I had not thought of this photo in months yet the day prior I intuitively knew that I was to go to Nashville's Film Festival.  I had ventured out spontaneously opening night to see "Nashville 2012" then stuck around to see another movie afterwards.  Two movies in one evening is more than I've seen in two months.  I couldn't make sense of why I was suppose to return yet I sensed this was something I needed to do.

It wasn't until I rearranged my schedule that I remembered Lyon was the birthplace of film.  The one thing during my trip that I did not do that I wanted to was visit the Museum of Cinema in Lyon.  Navigating public transportation while lacking fluency in French prevented this excursion.  (Ironically not knowing Dutch my first day in Europe, Amsterdam to be exact, did not keep me from hoping a bus and making my way to the renowned tulip fields at age 23.) 

Setting time aside to go to Nashville's 44th film festival was something I knew I was to do so periodically throughout last week, I sped to Green Hills to watch movies. I may not be fluent in French but I am fluent in feeling and I am relearning intuitive trust, something I knew in my early twenties and then forgot or began to ignore. 

263 films from 49 countries were shown at the festival.  I saw 9 of those films and a half dozen shorts.  I started at home with "Nashville 2012" which covered a handful of local folks and events last year not fully covered in the mainstream from "Occupy Nashville" and the locals supporting the Murfreesboro mosque to an area wrestler, a family with racing roots at the fairgrounds speedway to the closing of the Hostess bakery.  I concluded in Egypt and Pakistan with "Words of Witness" (Egypt's revolution through the eyes of a courageous 22 year old female journalist Hebe Afify) and "These Birds Walk" (young homeless Pakistani boys who leave home for various reasons and the organization that cares for them only to eventually have to return them home)  In between I saw films about pop-clinics serving the rural poor (Remote Area Medical), the unknown ramifications and facets of GMO's (GMO-OMG), the stories of the four remaining American doctors who perform late term abortions and the complex, heartbreaking stories of those they serve (After Tiller) and two unrelated films both connected to the Beatles one more than the other. Good Ol' Freda is the untold story of Freda Kelly the Beatles unassuming, dedicated young fan club manager for ten years.  Jim Lauderdale, King of Broken Hearts is the story of Grammy-winning local singer/songwriter/performer  Jim Lauderdale (of course). Jim was inspired to make music after his grandfather made him watch Ed Sullivan one Sunday night rather than Disney.  That particular night happened to be the Beatles debut.  Jim's journey is a testament of dedication and staying true to the Muse. I need to take lessons in commitment and discipline from Jim and Freda. 

I, someone who seldom watches tv or movies, spent nearly twenty hours in front of a movie screen. I was educated and informed.  Like the butterfly I initially saw in the photo above, films free us to fly to other lands to experience if only briefly others lives whether those lands are in Egypt, Pakistan or the Northeast corner of my home state Tennessee.

"These Birds Walk" helped me fathom how extremists groups easily persuade some children to join their ranks and in turn groom suicide bombers (that wasn't an aspect of the movie but it certainly occurred to me as I watched).  I experienced a necessary discomfort watching "Remote Area Medical" as nearly 2,000 people were served in one weekend at Tennessee's Bristol Speedway.  People in dire need of dental care had their teeth cleaned or pulled. Many had dentures made on the spot.  Others who literally could not see, had their vision checked and glasses made. 

Film also frees us if we are willing to connect with the inner land, the land of the heart.  My heart hurt for women and men in "After Tiller" who were faced with what to do regarding the babies they carried.  Some women knew their child would live briefly and others knew their child would live with unimaginable difficulties.  And I felt compassion for the four doctors committed to being with these women.  Meeting them through film revealed they are not the heartless murderers as many in society see them.

In between the above films I saw several shorts one of which was a brief piece set in England. "The English" contained two words of dialogue, two words uttered twice once as a mother left her son at a boys school and again as the son left his mother decades later at a nursing home.

The phrase?

  "No tears" 

This briefest of phrases in the briefest of films explains and encompasses so much, so much related to each of the films I saw and our predicament as people.

"No tears" contains and controls our hearts while impacting our minds and lives.  "No tears" results in an inability to access not just tears of sorrow but tears of joy as well.  "No tears" has ramifications or a ripple effect down through the generations over time.  "No tears" has gotten us to this place in which compassion seems lacking for so many and in so many.  

Fortunately film too has a ripple effect.  Film allows us to be entertained and escape yet films like those presented at the festival also allow us to imagine a life other than ours, to have empathy if we choose. Film educates and empowers us to make a difference.

Yet a different kind of film easily covers our eyes oftentimes unaware. This film prevents sight. 

Knowing tears washes away that film so we can see deeply into life's complexities with less judgement and more compassion.  Film frees us, when we dare be open, to enter the land of the heart. To be engaged with open hearts and minds allows us to know tears. To be engaged with open hearts and open minds allows us a freedom like that of the butterfly. 

To me this is grace, that the movie making process birthed around the world in France in another time and place, now connects us with others half way around the world as well as in our own country, state and community. 

Like the butterfly we can be free.  We choose every moment of every day.

No tears.  

or  

Know tears.

Which do you choose?

-Dawn, The Good News Muse at Imagine the Shift, 1 May 2013

dawn@imaginetheshift.com

When the Waters Come to Us - Honoring the May Day Flood 2010

Today I share this to honor the many Tennesseans whose lives were changed May Day 2010 as the rains came. That day we became intimately connected with all, past and present, 

who experience natural crises.  May we be open to the continued teachings of the waters.
 

(Going to the Water in Cherokee)

I learned of the Cherokee ritual of "going to water" while visiting the Smoky Mountains and Cherokee, NC in 2011.

Early each morning the Cherokee would wade out waist deep into the river where they would throw water over their head and ask that any thoughts or feelings that hindered them from being closer to God be taken away.  (Note: Their God was not a Caucasian, white-haired elder male casting people into hell from a heavenly throne. Nor was "He" to my knowledge used legislatively to administer or sway political POV's and policies.)  They would also ask that thoughts or feelings hindering them from being closer to all their brothers and sisters on earth, and the animals of earth be also taken. (from Living Stories of the Cherokee by Freeman Owle.)

What does your 'going to water' involve? 

Mine revolves around showering, flushing, brushing (my teeth), perking and washing but not cleansing or forgiving in the Cherokee way.  Are your associations similar?  These aspects of going to the water have more to do with one's exterior than interior, don't they?

We 'go to the water' daily in these ways, yet there are times when the water comes to us as happened to Nashville and many TN communities during the flood of 2010.  This was followed by the tsunami in Japan, flooding in New England, along the Mississippi then Russia where 100 were killed in a flood, in the Northeast with  Hurricane Sandy in parts of Tennessee this past weekend and along the Mississippi again as I type.   

There are times when the water doesn't come at all as was evidenced by last summer's drought resulting in loss of crops and livestock.  Even wildlife suffers in ways I was not aware.  Last year while taking a baby raccoon to Walden's Puddle, the local wildlife rehab sanctuary, a woman arrived with a frail fawn in her arms.  She had found this lifeless animal immobile in the middle of the road.  The technician said this was an increasing problem with the drought. She quickly determined it was dehydrated and took it away to administer an IV. 

Ironically there is a relational beauty resulting from flooding and drought that allows for a cleansing of sorts.  People typically separated by differences reach out to help one another as was evidenced during Nashville's flood.  Those who value animals are keenly tuned in to the needs of wildlife and pets in flood and drought conditions.  These events in nature prompt a sudden removal of the things that hinder us from being closer to our human brothers and sisters. 

My other association with " going to the water" entails a spring in the country where I've previously filled containers for drinking water.  The last time I was there I found the owner of the property just above the spring had cut most of the trees above where the road plateaus to land that looks out for miles.  My distress was so great I avoided going to the personal waters of my heart that were stirred by the scene of dozens of trees whose lives are now evidenced by stumps. 

I wanted spring water to mix with sacred water from England's Glastonbury Well, a gift from my sister-friend Carol in NY.  With the drought at the time, I was uncertain the spring would be flowing.  To my relief, a steady stream poured from the pipe.  To my dismay not only were the trees cut, but a bag of trash had been tossed down the incline by the small parking area.  The contents of the bag were scattered about likely by a raccoon or squirrel.  By the bench at the spring lay a plastic Hooter's to-go bag alongside two cigarette butts.

This prompted the appearance of trash from inside the fountain that's me.  Yes, my inner-personal trash was energetically thrown out onto whoever had thrown trash into the woods.  I truly didn't think people still did that kind of thing.  Then I energetically 'trashed' the Hooter's patron and all those who create businesses that objectify women regardless of how "good" the food tastes. (Did the designer of the Hooter's logo, an owl, know the owl is symbolic of the Divine Feminine?)

I found relief in imagining the Hooter's patron having dinner by the spring rather than in the restaurant.  As for the bag of trash in the woods, I envisioned it being thrown out by a teenager trying to avoid trouble because he or she had forgotten to take it to the nearby county garbage site as a parent possibly asked.  Maybe Earth became the receptacle so these individuals could avoid being the receptacle of scolding.

Ironically I left the Spring happy.  Being there washed my negative thoughts away - until we drove home a different way.  The Cumberland Plateau like much of Tennessee is blessed with springs.  On this particular day, the abundant water sources visible as we drove reminded me of hydraulic fracturing called fracking, the questionable process used by gas companies to extract natural gas from earth. Tennessee seems open game for those with fracking interests.  This spring a controversial plan was approved for the University of TN to lease nearly 9,000 acres of university owned land in the Cumberland Forrest. The land leased to an energy company would be fracked in order to research the effects of fracking.   

These are the days in which CEO's, politicians and those with overt power are literally 'going to water' for great monetary profit thanks to greed, negligence and power.  Simultaneously they and their hired hands, lobbyists, go to the airwaves to stir dissension and increase the division between the common people. They emphasize they're creating jobs and increasing our energy self-sufficiency while denying the potential short and long-term effects associated with the chemical cocktail used in the fracking process.  These chemicals may create toxicity in our waters leading to increased disease not to mention the harm done to the ecological system.  

Most people today I suspect have forgotten or not heard of "Erin Brockovich" the movie based on a real life situation in which a  corporation is negligent in acknowledging their toxic and deadly impact on a town's drinking water until a tenacious, tough woman, the movie's namesake, begins to research the company and the community members health issues resulting in their winning a large settlement from Pacific Gas & Electric.

I found myself wondering what the Cherokee would have to say about fracking.  The Navaho and Hopi have battled companies for years regarding the mining practices contaminating the underground aquifer from which they get their water. 

What is the path to right relationship with those who litter the spring in the country and roadsides as well as those who sell Nature with seeming disregard for health and long-term welfare of the planet and people?  Does the wisest path lie in the Cherokee story?  

This path suggests I always start with clearing the fountain within, forgiving those I judge and asking that they forgive me my judgment.  It involves "going" to the personal waters of my heart and staying with the things that stir me rather than ignoring or avoiding these things.  This means allowing my personal waters to flow and be felt whether in sorrow or joy. 

The worst thing I can do is allow the fountain in me to become clogged or "trashed" with judgment, resistance, fear, rigidity, pessimism, grudges, despair, a sense of threat or hatred.  This distances me from the personal waters of Me and from my fellow man.   

What if the waters of our world are healed as we honor the waters of our hearts, the tears of joy as well as sorrow wanting to flow and be felt? 

The implications of  'going to the water' are stunning. Can you imagine the difference made if each of us practiced "going to the water" every morning. Imagine the resulting shift in our nations capital, our state capitals and our communities?   Imagine the changes that would occur in broader energy company policy if we first consciously tended the energy company each of us personally holds? We are the CEO's in charge of how our mind, heart and will's personal energy is spent?

I was about to write, "There are no easy answers."  Yet something tells me if we each practiced 'going to the water" as the traditional Cherokee did the answers would come, the shifts would flow and our world would see great change.  

On this May Day, I honor Earth's waters and the flood that came to us.  I remember all those whose lives were forever changed.  I am grateful for the personal waters of my outer world. And I ask that the personal waters of my heart continue flowing so that all that comes between me and Spirit, me and Earth, me and my fellow man will be healed and made whole. 

-Dawn, The Good News Muse at Imagine the Shift

1 May 2013

dawn@imaginetheshift.com