Remember Who You Really Are?

(I wrote this to share at a gathering in 2006 yet each Solstice when I read it I realize I wrote it for me as I remember more and more of who I came here to be.  I don't know about you but I easily and episodically press snooze and fall back to sleep.  Fortunately it is never to late to awaken and remember. I share this again during this Solstice time of 2014 in hopes that if it is suppose to it will speak to You in this the time of the Great Remembering. - Sincerely, Dawn)

Sound Cloud audio link: Remember  

From Nashville's Adventure Science Center -2013

Remember who you really are?
You're a child of the Universe.
You, you're a star.

You are the tree rooted
  yet stretching so tall
You're a divine flower
  opening to all.

Filled with whimsy, play and delight.
We, we are God seeds.
We are the light.

We're here with a purpose, a plan so divine
Small mind cannot hold it.
See with new eyes.

All that has happened
  was meant to be.
All that has happened,
  now sets us free.

The heartache, the lessons
  help us unfold
The greater story we're living.
It's time to be told.

So look over the years
  in the patterns you'll find.
Clues to your being.
Keys to your life.

We are here open hearts
  in this time so ripe.
Filled with potential in this Solstice Time.

-Dawn, The Good News Muse,  17 Decembeer 2014

written 12/2006 

dawn@imaginetheshift.com

To ponder if you're curious: 

Are your heart and mind open to remembering who you really are if you're actually more than who you think you are?  

Do you allow heartache, disappointment or old story lines to define (and limit) who you are and how you think of your life?  

Be curious as to patterns that weave themselves from childhood to your adult life. My favorite place as a child in school was sitting in the floor in one corner of our small library and getting lost in the poetry books with beautiful drawings of flowers and plants.  Then around fifth grade, I was mesmerized with "Creepy Crawlers."  I could make snakes, lizards and bugs all day with the goop and molds in my creepy crawler kit.  It's only been in the last few years that I've realized it makes perfect sense that I would find bugs mesmerizing and beautiful. I can't imagine killing one as to me they're exquisite creatures with as much right to being on earth as I have.  The roots of my being in Love with Nature, writing poetry, and valuing bugs and Natures Beings lies in my childhood

Some Days

Some days I want to lose myself in a bed of brown. 

I want to feel this body and these bones melt into Earth's arms. 

Enveloped like long lost lovers, we breathe as one. 

Our heart beats drum beats bringing rhythmic comfort and calm. 

-Dawn, The Good News Muse 13 Dec. 2014

dawn@imaginetheshift.com

Walking Home -Messages from a Morning Walk

This morning while I walked in Nashville's 19 degree weather, I met Bo and Bella's human, Rachel a new neighbor who was equally bundled and standing with her cell phone in hand as her two dogs sniffed about in the yard.

We two humans met and Rachel asked fairly quickly if I walked every day. Her tone suggested she might think me odd but that was okay.  I heard myself respond with an enthusiastic "Yes" which was followed by "I do this to survive." I shared that I loved walking because I need sunshine and nature and I love being outside.

We parted.  As I walked on I realized my walks are about survival but they're really about much more than survival.  In the recent years walking and being outside even in the cold is how I thrive.

I am fed by Nature's beauty, the blue sky as well as the clouds.  My spirit is fed by patterns above in the barren tree limbs and below in the leaves on the ground.  My heart is fed by the birds singing, by neighbors and strangers I pass and I am drawn to things along my path offering messages when I listen.

For example, today only a few steps past meeting Rachel I found a dried piece of ornamental grass lying in the middle of the sidewalk. It just felt right to pick it up as "Bread of Life" crossed my mind.  A few steps further a dove feather, symbol of great Love and Peace, lay before me.  After picking it up I realized it's structure or patterning was similar to the grass.  A few houses away I came upon a yard filled with these leaves having fallen recently.

I was reminded immediately of the Tree of Life then noticed it too had a pattern similar to the grass and feather, many arms reaching from a body stationed between heaven and earth.


Then I came upon the blue dental flosser.

Near my turn, there it lay.  It had been there yesterday as well.  At first I picked it up because I'm prone to gathering trash on my walks.

This time though I walked with these things and pondered the manmade and Nature-made.

I considered how flossers are used to get at hard-to-reach gunk between one's teeth which are in the mouth, the vehicle of voice.  Maybe we need an instrument for getting to the hard-to-reach "stuff," the fears and issues old and new, the things affecting our voice so when we speak we speak with more love and less judgment, arrogance and hate (that includes more loving self-talk as well).

We come to Earth equipped with the instruments for clearing this stuff. It's found in an open mind. It is found in compassion's vibes radiating from the heart.  It is found in our arms extended from our bodies and wrapped around our fellow man as well as wrapped around ourselves. We come here equipped with all that's needed to clear out the stuff that builds up without and within.

Then as I continued my walk home this prayer came to me.

Bread of Life
Help me/us fly
and take my/our place 
on the Tree of Life.

Bread of Life 
Help me/us sing 
and reveal the Love 
that is in All Things. 

We are each "walking home" in a sense.  I share this prayer with you in hopes that it will make your daily "walk home" a bit lighter.  I share this experience in hopes that you'll be increasingly mindful of how your spirit and soul are fed and the messages surrounding you in the man-made and Nature-made daily.

-Dawn, The Good News Muse 18 November 2014

dawn@imaginetheshift.com

What Shapes Your Beliefs?

How do you come to your beliefs...even regarding the simple things? 

A comment about apple butter started this pondering about belief.  A food blogger in the local paper wrote of making apple butter and stated if canned it shouldn't be left on the shelf longer than six months.  

Yikes, I had apple butter stored since fall of 2012.  I opened a new jar to test mine out and emptied it, not into the trash, but onto toast and oatmeal over a couple of days.  

My two year old apple butter was as good as the day I made it possibly even better.  Eating it took me back to my neighbor's orchard and the load of apples she let me pick as well as the smell that permeated the house as the apples simmered for hours on the stove top.


Realizing the writer was wrong at least about my apple butter  reminded of transplanting lenten roses last winter.  Landscape and garden blogs I perused after transplanting them suggested these January beauties are not transplantable.  

As someone who loves plants, I felt horrible.  Had we just killed the six green clusters, we moved from our country yard to the city? According to these writers, we had given them a death sentence. 

Similarly a landscaper told me recently that redbuds are extremely hard to dig up as their roots run deep. In that moment, I believed this person who was the authority with a successful landscaping business.

That evening as I told Jerry about redbuds he asked, "Did you tell her about the two large ones I dug and transplanted over a year ago?"  

How had I forgotten the two successfully growing redbuds by my driveway?  

In that brief interaction, I granted this knowledgeable, experienced person authority and simultaneously forgot we had two examples that were contrary to her opinion.  

If I had granted authority to the other writers, I would have trashed my jars of apple butter without opening them and I would have never transplanted the lenten roses. 

And I would have missed this....

Yes in less than two months of moving the lenten roses, they honored us with beautiful blossoms.  

How do you come to believe what you believe? 
To whom do you grant authority and power? 

Beliefs contribute to violence that is external and internal.  Beliefs have resulted in unfathomable numbers of deaths over the centuries due to war, conquests, torture, and punishments resulting from people believing in the powers and power structures of the time.

In Time's big picture belief has been handed down through rulers, preachers, politicians, teachers and parents - those in authority.  Now pop culture and media figures increasingly influence belief.

Personally I would be called a "flip flopper" (a term used politically when someone changes their mind) because belief for me is fluid and flexible.  It is derived from my experience, especially listening to my inner experience.  My insides most often are the source of my authority.  Experience informs me as to what I believe which is why for me belief is fluid and flexible.  

And experience is what prompts me to ultimately share this story written in a journal a month ago.  

I had decided not to share it until I had an experience. 

I was cleaning off a bookcase and there on a bottom shelf was the silver vase (or grail cup) a neighbor spontaneously gifted me months ago.  How had I had forgotten it? 

Inside was a cricket, a dead cricket.

I love bugs. They are often messengers to me.  I immediately looked up the meaning symbolically of crickets in "Animal Speaks." 

Cricket represents "belief.  Trust your intuition before believing others." 

I immediately remembered this story and knew I was to share it.

So cricket's appearance prompts me to invite you to consider how it is you've come to believe what you believe? Are you open or closed to the opportunity to reconsider your beliefs and their origins?

Sincerely, Dawn! The Good News Muse, 15 November 2014

dawn@imaginetheshift.com

It's All about Me (and You) - Self-Love Could Usher in Peace

I recently saw three-year-old James. I had not seen him or his mother since they moved from next door months prior.  James came running from his condo and threw himself around my lower half while shouting, "Dawn, Dawn, Dawn."

My experience of James was followed by seeing photos of another young soul who's not even a year old.  His mother shared photos of his discovering his BFF (Best Friend Forever) in the mirror. His expressions in the mirror as he greeted himself were priceless.

The joy, delight and enthusiasm of these two boys have stayed with me for they hold the keys to greater peace, love and understanding.

Think about it.

If we each looked into the mirror and saw our BFF or had the joy of James upon seeing me, the world would not be the same. (It's much harder to condemn and judge another if I'm happy to see them in the world as James was me.)

I cannot authentically and deeply love myself (be my own BFF) and neglect myself.

If I authentically love me, it is harder to harm you because to harm another in thought, word or deed creates discomfort and dissonance not just in you, but within me.

It just doesn't line-up with love.

I viewed the "it's all about me" trend a few years ago as yet another means to sell cheap stuff to narcissists and consumers feeling internally empty. Now I wonder if many of those who bought into it being all about them possibly needed their lives to be all about them for a change.

On a deeper level this holds a beautiful and profound message.  If 'It is all about me" I will genuinely embrace being Me, especially since no one will ever be me!

Think about that for a moment. No one has ever been you or will ever be you.  This is something to celebrate. Imagine someone running up to you, especially if you were in a down space, and exclaiming your name " _____, _____, _____" as James did mine.  Wouldn't that be a beautiful thing? I know, I know you might first have to get over being embarrassed.

The fact that You are You is a beautiful, amazing, once-in-a-lifetime thing!

The fact that We are all here together on this beautiful, amazing planet at this time is a once-in-a-Universe thing.  The expressions of these two boys are key to living within and without in much greater joy and peace.

-Dawn, The Good News Muse  14 November 2014

dawn@imaginetheshift.com 

Spirit Speaks - Self-Loathing and My Cat

Spirit speaks in whispers.  

Seldom is the writing on the wall.  

Though last night, it was in my hall.

11/11 or Veteran's Day saw me enveloped in a bad mood.

I didn't begin my day in this state.  I awakened early to take the keys to the mechanic diagnosing my car.  It had to be towed the prior night.  Before dropping off the keys, I sat outside and listened to the robins sing.  They had not been present like this since Spring.  I felt such joy. Their chorus was the perfect gift on this day I had intentionally set aside to listen.

Sometime around mid-morning though anger wrapped itself around me.

I asked Jerry and the cats to not take it personally. I wanted to scream, vent, and shout and I didn't know why.  I felt possessed by negative energy.

Mid-afternoon, I put Redbud who's just over a year old in his room.  Redbud is rambunctious.  I didn't want him picking up on my anger and acting out.  Animals do this just like kids. They pick up on and react to our vibes.

Entering RB's room is when I noticed the stone.

When Redbud first came to live with us, I asked a friend for suggestions as to stones that might be of benefit to him.  She named three. I researched them and they were spot on.  So I put three stones in his room along the edge of the window where he couldn't get to them but would hopefully benefit energetically from their presence.

I had forgotten about the stones until I saw the smoky quartz in the middle of the bedroom floor.  I smiled and placed it back on the ledge and ensured he was safely in his room.

Then I went to my room where I yelled at God, my guides and angels.  I told them what I thought about them interspersed with four letter words.

This tantrum did not help. I felt consumed. This may sound freaky to you but I felt like black goo was energetically coming out of me.  As someone trained in somatic (body) therapy, I'm comfortable with this.  I just didn't want to be dealing with black goo on 11/11. I wanted to be listening, listening to peace-filled, personal messages coming to me not angry ones.

11/11 could not end soon enough. I was disappointed and upset with myself.

I tried to write or actually re-write a Veteran's Day story I wrote years ago.  I got lost in my head rewording sentences I had not planned.  I freed Redbud and fed the cats, watched the news (something I never do and may never do again), and suffered through dinner then went to bed.


That's when I saw the stone again.  

Redbud had been freed from his room but the door was closed.

Lying in the hallway was the smoky quartz just outside the door to what we call RB's room.

Spirit speaks in whispers. Seldom is the writing on the wall.  In that moment, the 'writing' was in my hall.

I knew the stone was for me.

(Redbud is my messenger cat. He is the reason I didn't back out of hiking into the Grand Canyon a year ago. Within two weeks of his being in our home, he found a file I had forgotten. One morning I opened the door to 'his' room to find a newspaper about the Grand Canyon lying in the middle of the floor. I had been debating whether I had the stamina to backpack over twenty miles in the canyon although I intuitively knew I was suppose to. Redbud's message settled that question.)

I picked up the smoky quartz and went to bed with "Love is in the Earth," my crystal go-to book in hand.

Redbud's message through smoky quartz was more perfect than I could have imagined.  Smoky quartz helps with negative states as well as protection from negativity and issues related to the hands. (My hands had been feeling carpal tunnel-ish lately and I was quietly concerned.)

I fell asleep knowing my angels were at my side, the feline and the winged kind.

First thing this morning, I sat outside with smoky quartz between my palms in prayer. I asked that Mother Earth, Father Sky, the Divine and all my angels take the dark energy from me and turn it into love so no one else would receive or absorb it.

And I heard myself say a word, I don't think I've ever said.  I actually asked that my self-loathing and hate be taken.

Self-loathing and hate?

Yes, those words came to me as naturally as breathing.  Intuitively I suddenly knew this is what the energy in me felt like and I don't consciously think of myself in these ways.

I felt the mood depart and got why I had felt this way.

After hearing the robins sing, I posted a song to Facebook.  I actually posted me singing a song that came to me honoring Veteran's Day five years ago. Afterwards the mood arrived because I was unconsciously feeling vulnerable. I sing in the shower, the car and over the phone for occasional birthdays. I do not sing publicly.  I was afraid, afraid people would judge and laugh at me.

Yet self-loathing?

I was angry at myself for giving anyone else power over me.  I was furious that I was concerned with what anyone thought of my singing and judged myself right and left for 'wasting' my day. This snowballed into an internal tirade about my lifetime of "wasted" days.

This was even more perfect when I reread the Celestial Timing for November 11.  (I read it that morning and forgot!)  The Moon entered Leo Tuesday morning. This is connected to healthy self-love including the ability to greet the dark parts of myself with the same gracious embrace as I greet the light. 

Rather than resist and struggle with my darkness, I was being asked to embrace my mood and listen. 

As I sat with the smokey quartz, I can honestly say peace and joy replaced the mood.  Peace and joy have continued to be my partners and I am grateful for the anger that was trying to get my attention.  It just wanted me to realize that I am here to be me regardless of what others think.  I am here to repeatedly put myself "out there" and be with what that stirs "in here." Living from this space every day is exactly how it's meant to be.

********

How do you experience Spirit, God, Life's Mystery speaking to you? 

Do you listen?  

Are you curious about the whispers that come your way through intuitive clues as to your path? 

Do you greet and embrace your dark side? 

Are you really YOU regardless of what others think? 

Imagine that Shift.                                                              -Dawn, the Good News Muse 12 Nov. 2014 

dawn@imaginetheshift.com

Loving the Feared - A Message from Snake

I have SO missed my walks in the Grand Canyon that I have hardly walked at all since returning home a month ago. This morning in an attempt to jump start myself, I decided to try again.  

Across the street only a few steps out of my driveway, I looked down to find a small black snake killed unknowingly by a passing car.  Without hesitation, I scooped it up and placed it next to my heart.  I could not walk.  

I held this dear being of Creation.  As I sat, tears came then I heard:     

"Dawn, let your tears be few over my loss. Instead feel my gratitude that you found me. See my beauty. See the silver sparkle in the black and the white. See my perfectly patterned underside of parallel lines. But most of all feel my gratitude that you are not afraid to hold me ... close. You are not afraid of me."  

It is perfect snake and I find one another in this time of year in which people don costumes and masks of things feared.  Halloween gives us permission to name our fears, but we do really?  

Fear is used to sell and promote all kinds of things. Fear separates and births judgment.  It separates us from those appearing different from us and it separates us from our true inner Selves. Fear drives election campaigns. Fear is available, if we allow it, to overtly and covertly permeate and run our days and even our nights in our dreams.  

I held this snake and thought of ebola, the fear of the moment.  I recalled the "Sixty Minutes" interview I watched last evening with the Texas nursing staff that cared for Mr. Duncan, the Liberian man who was the first to die in America of ebola. On the internet people are now arguing as to the purpose of the interview.  (Was the hospital trying to "spin" a story and make themselves look good?)  

I don't really care for what was most important to me was the deep admiration I felt as I listened to these men and women speak.  One male nurse held Mr. Duncan's body upon his passing. 

He held the body of a man who had just died of ebola.  

It doesn't get more beautiful than that.  

I held the snake and said, "You are an amazing gift of creation." 

Snake said, "Love is the amazing gift."  

Yes, this level of Love is the amazing gift, the beautiful treasure held in the heart, feared by many.  This is the Love embodied by Jesus, Ghandi and Mother Teresa.  

This is the Love with which we come here equipped, a Love without fear especially when the One Loved is society's rejected and despised. 

I now walk into my day grateful that snake's presence jump started my heart. 

May all things feared be embraced. 

Thank you, thank you, Snake. 

-Dawn, The Good News Muse  27 October 2014

dawn@imaginetheshift.com

In Honor of Water and Indigenous People Everywhere

This piece honoring "Water" is shared in honor of New Zealand's Waitaha Nation and the Waitaha Water Gathering occurring now (Oct. 15-17) and for the first time ever open to the public.  Previously the gathering as been held in private every 50 years.  It was originally written honoring World Water Day March 22 every year. 

And to Dr. Masaru Emoto whose dedication to healing water has implications for healing without and within.  Dr. Emoto just passed and yet his presence will be felt forever. 

(Going to the Water in Cherokee)

A recent summer while in the Smoky Mountains and Cherokee, NC, I learned of the Cherokee ritual of "going to water."  

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 fellow casting people into hell from his 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 teeeth), 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?

There are times when instead of going to the water 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 and more recently in the Northeast with  Hurricane Sandy. 

Then there are times when the water doesn't come at all as occurred a few summers ago around my Middle Tennessee home resulting in crop loss and challenges to livestock. Even wildlife suffers in ways I was not aware.  While I was at Walden's Puddle, the local wildlife rehab sanctuary, with a baby raccoon 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.  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.  

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 create toxicity in our waters leading to increased disease not to mention the harm done to the ecological system.  

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.  

What better time than this during the first ever public meeting of the Waitaha Water Gathering to begin 'going to the water' wherever you live.  Each morning as you shower or bathe ask that all that comes between you and the Divine as well as life on Earth be cleansed and washed away. 

-Dawn, The Good News Muse,  17 October 2014
first posted  in honor of World  Water Day 22 March 2013
dawn@imaginetheshift.com 

For What Would You Drive 100 Miles?

My friend Merle, a now retired former therapist, once told me she asked clients for what they were willing to drive 100 miles. This helped her assess their passion...or lack thereof as most folks hadn't a clue for what they'd drive that far. 

I thought at times there were symphonies or hikes for which I might drive nearly two hours but tonight I actually did it. 

Upon learning it was to be in the mid-forties in the country outside Nashville where I have a home and hummingbirds, I got in my car during rush hour and drove 102 miles to ensure any hummingbirds still hanging around will have warm sugar water at sunrise. I can imagine some would laugh or belittle me for this but I really don't care. Even if the hummingbirds gone it has already been more than enough for me to do this. 

Last weekend as feeders warmed by the fire and later as a sweet female fed during the day. 

I have already felt deep joy in gathering five feeders in the dark and cleaning them for tomorrow. It has been worth 102 miles to find two spiders looking very dead in two feeders and gently placing them on a towel and waiting....as they, these fragile frightening-to-many-dear beings, return to life. 

Returning to life...that is what Merle's question really addresses. 

Not shopping, spending, bank accounts or the cars we drive.  Not who we know, our zip code or hair color.  Not the stock market, religion or political party.  

Returning to LIFE, feeling ALIVE. 

For what would you drive 100 miles?

-Dawn, The Good News Muse , 16  Oct. 2014

dawn@imaginetheshift.com

When Tears Flow - Being in Alignment

Tears are a gift. When I let them flow as needed, I experience alignment internally.

This is what happened a week ago as I sat in my yard and finally cried.

Two weeks prior I experienced the same.  My intention that evening had been to sing at sunset over the valley of hood doos a few steps outside my cabin door.

Instead I ended up at an astronomy talk at the Bryce Canyon Lodge.  I specifically found myself in the floor by the stage in a room packed with over two hundred people as a NASA volunteer shared slide after slide of various manmade crafts in space and on planets.  I wanted to scream, "This is insane" upon learning one such craft has mapped the minerals found on Mars and another is actually drilling there.

As the presenter began I suddenly realized my intention to sing (which many of those present would have equally considered insane).

As the hour-long talk that I thought would never end concluded, I hurriedly left with my laptop, camera and phone in hand.

I rushed through the dark to my cabin weeping all the way.

Then it happened.  For the third time in two weeks, I fell. Not seeing the sidewalk, I tripped and landed on my knee and elbow while lifting, like a waitress with a tray, the technology I carried - technology that I'm certain had an assist from NASA in its creation.

I had just trekked 28 miles into the Grand Canyon and back without falling once.  Yet this particular evening and two other times recently I had tripped, slipped and stumbled.

Ordinary life is evidently more challenging for me than adventures like hiking in the Grand Canyon.

Jerry who was trying to keep up with me exclaimed, "Are you alright?" as I was already up and down the sidewalk continuing to cry.

I was headed to bed to have a "good cry."  I made it to the bed where I quickly realized in each of these falls I could have easily broken a bone especially when my feet slide out from under me on slick steps at home and I landed three steps down still talking on the phone while holding a half-gallon glass jar of water.  I kept right on talking, phone and jar in my hands while thinking, 'My angels held me just then.' 

I got it.  That night at Bryce Canyon I got it. I have been held.  I had a choice. I could cry in the bed or I could continue with what felt like my mission.

I walked to the stones and specifically down a path where one particular stone looks like a male watching over the valley below the rim.

And I sang.  I sang to the hoo doo's that to me feel very much alive.

I had no regrets.  The timing was perfect.

When I am focused on my path, the one external that is aligned with the one internal, I have no fears. I judge nothing 'insane' for I intuitively know we and Earth are held.  We are held in this Great Time.

And yet I still wonder about this outer space thing.  We have for decades sent people into outer space yet how many allow inner space for experience, especially tears, to flow?

Even I at times resist as I question:  Why am I crying? What is this about? I need to know before letting go.

I forget experience is and tears just are.

As happened Thursday night, when I honor them and let them flow releasing questions and attempts at control, my tears are followed by a sense of great peace and rest.

I am grateful to be able to cry. This is one of the many gifts of the heart.

Do you allow to come through you whatever needs to flow or do you try to control your experience by analyzing and trying to figure it out first?

May we all allow to come through us whatever needs to flow.

And may we have a felt sense that we are held. We are held.

-Dawn, The Good News Muse 16 Oct. 2014

dawn@imaginetheshift.com

Don't Loose Your Sense of Wonder

These two feathers captured my attention this week.  I spotted them when I wasn't even looking for feathers.  After a night of hard rain, one was plastered to the back of my chair and the other lay on the driveway.  Both were so wet I didn't recognize them as feathers initially.

I held this one

as I wrote and was taken even more to see its transformation as it dried.  What once was twig-like became a flourishing fan.  

These feathers became part of my morning quiet as I pondered why they drew me in.  

Their transformation captured me yet it was more than that.  Things unexpected, overlooked, stepped on, the unnoticed daily things in life hold beauty and inspiration for me.  

That something so small and seemingly fragile could empower flight in my yard, across continents, and around the world as migrations presently occur is miraculous.  Scientists of course would suggest this is just the way with feathers and wings while explaining how flight technically works suggesting it's no miracle at all.

This makes it no less of a miracle to me. 

Do we risk loosing our capacity for wonder and experiencing the miraculous with technology and social media's potential addictiveness, subtle and blatant competition, science attempting to explain everything not to mention the "busyness" consuming so many?  

I wonder. 

What gets your attention? Is it the latest trend or tweet? 

Are you drawn in by sports, food, music, nature, kids? 

Does anything really drawn you in? 

If so, how does it serve you?  And what is its function? 

Don't loose your sense of wonder.....

-Dawn, The Good News Muse,   16 Oct. 2014

dawn@imaginetheshift.com

The Earth Is at a Threshold - Do Not Limit Your Flow (When the Ordinary is Extraordinary)

Pay attention to the seemingly ordinary in your life for the 
ordinary reveals the extraordinary which is vital to your journey and ours. 

While walking from the basement, I glimpsed something unusual at the threshold of the door. 

Before I could actually wonder what I was seeing, I knew.  It was the magnet of Earth made from a bottle cap years ago by Ella, who's now thirteen.  I saw it and thought, 'Yes, we and earth are definitely at a threshold, aren't we?' 

We are at a threshold.

Collectively we've the opportunity of lifting Earth as has never before occurred. This is the shift I intuitively sensed when "Imagine the Shift" came to me ten years ago during a walk. I was seeking a title for my cd when the image of a pulsing heart beating with Love's vibration over Earth came to mind.

At the time I was unfamiliar with the HeartMath Institute. Their research has revealed the heart's electromagnetic field measured by an ECG is 60 times greater in amplitude than the brain waves recorded by an EEG. * 

This Earth magnet at the door's threshold was a beautiful reminder of the heart's magnetism and the energy of love within each of us and shared by all when we access our heart's vibration.

We are collectively connected through this energy creating an unseen web. This connection assists us in lifting Earth.  As we lift ourselves, we lift one another.  To collectively lift and shift requires looking at the things that hold us down.

Earth's lying on the threshold to my basement was an even more perfect metaphor.  The basement represents the unconscious and unknown feelings, memories and past experiences.

The stuff of our basement is revealed through the patterns and behaviors that are familiar thus safe despite often being laden with subtle and overt violence to self and others.

My "basement" is filled with stuff.  Early mornings are my designated writing times yet one recent morning I observed myself get out the weed puller and begin making my way around my yard before setting it aside and sitting down to write.  Another morning I strategized how to prop a ladder against the house in order to check out a gutter that needed repair.  Since I'm a nester, home chores are personally satisfying for me yet this was ridiculous and another diversion from writing. Fortunately I called Leonard and the gutter was easily repaired two days later.

These behaviors and ways in which I distract myself from listening, writing and sharing originate in my "basement."  They are fear's emissaries causing me to neglect my heart's vibration and keeping me from potentially being seen. As a sensitive, being seen is even more of a challenge as judgement and terror have periodically stopped me in my tracks.  I have allowed these behaviors fueled by fear to hold me back and create a slow energetic drain at times.

Our collective "basement" has a lot in it as well.  We've prejudices and valuations based on zip codes, what others drive and wear, gender and sexual orientation, geography, politics, religion, race and differing views on hot topics such as gun, immigration and abortion laws.  Each of these things is connected through fear, the fear of loss and vulnerability, the fear of loosing family and tribe, the fear of difference, the loss of control over how we're percevied, feared loss of freedom, fear of one's own death, a divorce or job.

Historically to the present as individuals in a world community the stuff of our basement is much.
When not brought to the light, it shows up in the media and internet.  It shows up on our streets and in our communities through poverty, violence and inequality.  It shows up in the world of sex trafficking, addictions and suicide and in our complacency, disconnects and diversions.

The invisible web of love's vibration also carries our dark side.  Each of our "basements" is connected to the "basement" of others including those I've not even met.

For example, not long ago a video of a little girl brutally kicking a puppy made the rounds on Facebook.  Most folks, including myself, considered this horrific.  I wondered who treated her this way or was this how she saw an adult in her life treat another.  What if this dear girl just feels horribly hopeless and powerless and she's taking it out on her dog?

I also quietly thought, 'How does my anger connect with her abuse toward that puppy?'

I have internal tantrums in which I kick and scream in the pages of my journal. There are tantrums I have with myself for allowing the external to distract me and those I have with the Universe when I've felt particularly disappointed, discouraged and betrayed.  And though I literally kick no one, in that moment I knew my internal tantrums were connected to that young girl's outbursts.

We are connected through our repressed fears, frustrations, outrages and heartaches as well as through love.

Then there's the sexual stuff in our basement.

Looking at the internet, tv, ads and magazines, one would think we are a fairly open society sexually.  Yet nudity doesn't equal openness otherwise the stunning rise of sex trafficking wouldn't be rising in our basement.

How can we have such dark, abusive goings-on when nudity is everywhere?  Literally "covering up" bodies is not the answer.  Covering up the stuff in the basement has gotten us here.  Sex is in our basement and for the most part we shy away from talking openly and honestly about our bodies and beautiful, sacred sex.

Yes, the Earth and we are at a threshold. It is vital that we use this time as an opportunity to own and bring into light then hold in compassion the stuff of our insides or "basements."

What stops us? How do we unknowingly stop ourselves? 

The lessons of this particular morning were not over for another extraordinary metaphor revealed itself unexpectedly that morning.

The water pressure in my kitchen sink has been abnormally slow for the last year.  I, someone who enjoys cooking, have lived with low water pressure in my kitchen for a year!  The fact that my water pressure is usually too high made this phenomenon even more unusual. 

I have tolerated low pressure because I didn't want the hassle (assumption) of finding a plumber. 

I have mindfully practiced Buddhist monk Thich Nhat Hahn's suggestion of washing the dishes to wash the dishes daily. **

On this particular day, my patience ceased.  I began my quest for an answer. The first person I called attributed the problem to internal sludge in my faucet.  I looked into the faucet strainer.  Sludge wasn't evident.

This too was the perfect metaphor since energetic sludge created by fear doesn't openly announce itself.  It reveals itself through behaviors and patterns in which I habitually succumb to diversions and distractions that keep me from fully showing up and owning my heart's vibration. 

I called the same person and for a second time he insisted I had something in my faucet.  Feeling frustrated, I went for a walk.  Interestingly I walked right up to a plumber six houses away from me. I asked if he might he be willing to look at my faucet. With only a moment's hesitation, he volunteered to come take a look.  

I ran home and went straight to my basement crossing the threshold where earlier the earth lay. Before the plumber arrived, I decided to see if I could actually replace the new with the old.  I did and it worked!  It worked !! 

When the plumber arrived, I shared my success. He remained curious as to why I had the problem in the first place.  He asked if he could look at the old new faucet. Just as he suspected, inside it was this  tiny plastic piece, a water saving device in new faucets restricting water flow.  

I'm all for conserving water. I have three rain barrels from which I water my flowers and garden when it's dry.  I honor water yet I have not honored myself for this ordinary circle of plastic represents how I restrict my flow When I unknowingly succumb to fears in my basement I allow my life force to be episodically drained and neglect my heart's vibration.

The steps for getting back on my path are usually simple. This particular morning revealed what for me are keys.  I had to take action (go for a walk), be mindful of resources on my path (the plumber) and then be willing to look for what's in my basement!  Listening, acting, sharing and trusting are personal remedies for my inner tantrums and my stuckness. 

What extraordinary messages I discovered embedded in the ordinary of my morning.

To me, this is grace.

We have this precious opportunity to bring the stuff from our personal basements, the stuff that unknowingly restricts our flow so it can be faced and healed in Love's vibration.

And if we don't well..... 

The two ordinary objects of my morning were circles reminding me of the extraordinary truth that circles and cycles repeat themselves. Everything circles around again and again throughout time historically and in our lives daily.  If I don't get it today, it will arrive again tomorrow.

Within these simple things that circle around are profound messages and lessons when we are willing to listen, pay attention and exercise courage through wise action.

Let's move beyond our restrictions so we as individuals and we as a collective here on Earth can rise having cleaned out the basement of our personal lives and the times!

Pay attention to the seemingly ordinary in your life for the 

ordinary reveals the extraordinary which is vital to your journey and ours. 

I call this Good News !! 

-Dawn, The Good News Muse, 15 Sept. 2014

dawn@imaginetheshift.com

For Pondering and Wondering: 

1. How do you possibly restrict your flow?

2. What familiar yet uncomfortable patterns repeatedly show up in your journey suggested there's something to be brought to light from your basement? 

3. Pay attention to the extraordinary messages your receive through ordinary objects, incidents and situations. 

* For more on the HearthMath institute and the study where I found the info above click  HERE. 

** Years ago I heard that a Buddhist monk Thcith Nhat Hahn said there are two ways to do anything. You can wash the dishes to wash the dishes (just get them washed) or you can wash the dishes to wash the dishes (be present in that very moment with the process).  I use this with mowing the yard, vacuuming, just about everything because there's such truth in it.  The first path gets whatever done but the second path opens me to sensation, memory, the richness of the moment.  That said, I decided to actually searched for the quote and this is what I found. Click Here. 

Igniting Fire to Put Out the Fire (You Can Do Magic. Do You?)

"You can do magic

You can have anything that you desire

Magic, and you know 

You're the one that can put out the fire." - America 

How do you experience fire?

I recently used aluminum foil (literally) to put out a fire.  As I sat before our chimnea, the above lyrics sang through my mind.  As I got to "you're the one that can put out the fire," a stick cracked and half of it popped onto the deck.  I grabbed a nearby piece of foil and picked up the simmering chunk literally putting out the fire.

I paid attention to the moment's message because it took me back to another time and an unfinished  story of fire.

September 2013

Last fall we hiked from the North Rim to the South Rim of the Grand Canyon.  To savor the accomplishment, we spent an extra day at the South Rim.  We visited an art space where I was surrounded by beautiful art yet my attention was on the cardboard cutouts of the Kolb brothers, the earliest photographers of the canyon.  I did not want to walk away from these souls.  There was something so familiar and gentle about them.

The Kolb brothers operated a photography studio for 75 yrs at the Grand Canyon's edge.

We then took a bus to the Grand Canyon's West Rim where we happened upon a viewing scope set on  a condor chic.  #719 was being fed by its parents in a wild nest in Battleship Rock.  As with the Kolb brothers, I did not want to walk away from this amazing bird.  I just knew we were going to see it fly.

Nest crevice is around near the upper middle of the photo.
Prior DNA study of remains determined this is an ancient nesting site.

Later when we walked away from the canyon, I also wanted to stay. This was the third time in the last five years in which I walked from the canyon's edge feeling emotion well within me.  For the third time, I did not want to walk away.

Simultaneously this same day a parallel "pull" of sorts was occurring.  While posting photos to Facebook, my friend Amanda's announcement caught my eye.  Amanda coordinates Nashville's "Blue Moves" dance group.  The theme for  2014 would be Fire.  This got my attention.  I  didn't know why.

Before leaving that afternoon, I ran into the canyon market for a pit stop before the road trip south.  I walked in and just about as quickly walked out as an employee told me the restrooms were outside the  building.  Yet I heard what I needed as a line from a song playing on the store music loop caught my ear as I walked out the door.

The line was "You can do magic."  I didn't even know who sang this line from a song decades ago but I heard it.

An hour later driving outside Flagstaff, I noticed the sky.   We expected to come upon emergency crews any moment because the area to our west looked as if it was on fire.

We arrived after dark in Sedona.  I had hiked into the canyon with a cold and unfortunately passed it along to Jerry by accidentally using his toothbrush for days.  (I only recently confessed the toothbrush mix-up.)  Worn out and sick, he turned in early as I read "Live" a local Flagstaff newspaper.  

The cover story was of photographer Dave Edwards visits to Mongolia in the early 90's.  During this time he saw street children whose numbers swelled to 4,000 starving, taking refuge in underground heating-duct tunnels, and prostituting themselves to survive.  What started with 19 duffel bags of clothing that Mr. Edwards personally distributed in one return visit has now become a fifteen year effort involving Flagstaff individuals and groups in many others ways.

This got my attention even more so when I read the group's name is FIRE - Flagstaff International Relief Effort. 

Fire had crossed my radar three times that day.  

Fire through dance
Fire in the sky
and FIRE in Flagstaff.

Each aspect of fire related to connection whether it was through Blue Move's dance group telling stories of passion's fire, the shared sky under which we all live or of community service reaching around the world. 

I laid the newspaper aside and turned off the light. 

Then fire appeared again.

As I fell asleep, another line to the song in the market came to mind.  I didn't even know I knew the line.

"...you're the one who can put out the fire."

Did that song really contain that line? 

The next morning I looked up the lyrics and found I was right.  I reflected on the three instances related to fire and my not wanting to leave the photographers, the condor, and the canyon.  

I thought of the fire of my childhood, hell's fire of which the preacher preached.  As a child, my fears and tears put out my personal fire regularly through crying alone, not having my voice, and living with Disappointment.

I am different today or so I thought.  

Later that morning as we headed out to hike, this amazing piece took my breath as we drove past her.  Jerry stopped the car so I could stand before this figure, the Angel of Healing, that stirred me so.  Her creator James Muir wrote of her bringing love and peace to the Earth.  I read this and as happened the day prior, I was filled with emotion which I held at bay.  

 "Caduceus" the Angel of Healing by James N. Muir 

We hiked that day but I was not fully present partially because of all I held and also because for the first time after many visits to Sedona I did not want to be there.  Jerry asked periodically if I was okay and I insisted I was.  This was a long awaited birthday trip for him and I was already devastated that I had given him my cold.  I couldn't bring myself to say I wanted to be elsewhere.  So I made myself miserable not to mention confusing him.

Two days passed until I finally told the truth.  I wanted to be at the condor release three hours north.  To my surprise, Jerry didn't even realize it was that day.  (Take note.  This is a perfect example of poor communication on my behalf.)

When we were at the canyon's nest viewing site, a naturalist told us Saturday was the yearly release day for young condors raised in captivity.  She gave us each a brochure about the Vermilion Cliffs which we had passed en route to the North Rim to hike.  I thought Jerry was taking in the information as she shared but I never asked him and I never said, "Let's go to this."  Having just hiked ten miles nearly straight up while having a cold, he hadn't heard her.  I did an oh-so-not-good thing to do. I assumed he had and that he didn't want to go.

To redeem the day, Jerry suggested we drive to Flagstaff to the Hopi Festival.  Standing at the festival in front of an information booth on the Hopi Mesas, I realized I was exactly where I was suppose to be.  Nearly twenty years ago, I had visited the mesas.  Now here before me was a brochure about that sacred home in Arizona's Northeastern corner.

That's when it happened again.  I saw the symbol and words "The Center of the Universe" and tears filled my eyes.  I stood there overcome with emotion yet not wanting the young women at the table to see me.

 

We spent much of the afternoon at the Festival watching dances and talking with vendors.  All the while, I watched and wondered as to what was going on in me.  I was listening from my head trying to figure out what these tears were about so I wouldn't miss their message.  And yet going into my head means I most likely miss their message.

Mystery's message, at least for me, doesn't show up through thinking but through listening and paying attention.

Does this mean I have learned the lesson of more deeply listening and letting go?

Time will tell.

Is the Mystery over?

Far from it.

A young chic and its parent in "Canyon News" magazine

Months passed.

One night back in Nashville, I came in from star watching.  Jerry who was already in bed, had left a magazine open for me.  There was news of #719 in the quarterly issue of "Canyon News," the magazine for members of the Grand Canyon Association.

I read and wept tears of such joy.  #719 opened its wings and flew for the first time a month and a half after we were there.

Then I saw the story's message meant for me.

Condors learn through experience.  I saw that first line and knew this is exactly what I needed to see.  I am here to learn through the experience of being inside this mind, body and heart that is Dawn's.

Yet.....

Remember how I didn't want to walk away from the Kolb brothers, the young condor and the canyon?  I didn't want to walk away from these three things yet I did.  When I walk away from my heart's calling me and my life's Mystery, I walk away from my experience.  I squelch my fire and stop the magic of Mystery attempting to connect with me.  

Remember how I suppressed tears while standing before the sculpture of the healing angel and the young Hopi women at the festival?

When I hide my tears from myself or from others, I ignore my experience.  I put out my fire.

When I don't say what I want or need, I miss the opportunity of being vulnerable.  I put out my fire. 

When I do not realize the beauty of TEARS, my heart's language whether I am grieving or joyfully moved, I negate my experience.  I put out my fire.

When I walk away without fully attending the nameless experience swirling in me, I put out my fire.

I put out my fire in a world that needs my fire, the fire of great love, compassion, wonder and curiosity.

I limit my Life's magic and ultimately walk away from my heart and Mystery.  And I walk away from experiencing Me.  How sad is that?

If we were each deeply mindful of experiencing Life through just our Self, not the media or anyone else, much violence would cease starting with the unintentional violence we do to ourselves and spreading out through all our relationships.

This amazingly beautiful world that is on fire due to pain from ignoring who we are would be on fire with great Love and Compassion.

We can do magic and this is the magic I'm here to do.

What about you?

-Dawn, The Good News Muse , 10 September 2014

dawn@imaginetheshift.com