Thursday, September 28, 2017

A (Big)Piece to My Peace

If I'm not outside daily, I begin to feel unplugged. Being in Nature is how I thrive, feeling sun permeate my insides as Earth's energy soaks into my soles, hearing chickadees, cardinals and blue jays, even the squirrel just now to whom I throw an acorn fills my soul's tank as I fill her physical tank.

These small, precious goings-on are vital to me yet I have allowed politics since the election to take a piece of my presence. When I'm outside, there's some peace in my presence.

(Here's where I share my despair about political events. If you're not open to me in that way, venture down to SO.) I am profoundly troubled by what I hear as the immense hypocrisy in this administration and even more troubled by those who don't hear so much of what's occurring as hypocritical.

For example most recently (and this has possibly changed already given the cavalcade of instances) it's been revealed that HSS Sec. Tom Price has spent nearly a half million dollars on private planes for trips thus far. One of those trips was to Nashville to see his son and speak to a medical conference for 20 minutes. Over $400,000 of tax payer dollars went toward these trips. He could have made this Music City trip for $150 to $300 on a commercial plane easily.

Of course, years prior then Sen. Price railed at Hillary Clinton for using private planes for travels.

I don't understand why Republicans aren't equally outraged over this yet I know I am naive. I still think in relation to things like this "wrong is wrong."

Then there's her emails for which she was harangued in a modern day inquistion and the mobs still chant, "lock her up." Yet it doesn't seem to matter that six Trump officials (including Jared and Ivanka) have used private email accounts for White House correspondence. Excuse me. This is what you find under the definition of "hypocrisy" in the dictionary.

The Trump administration thus far seems to be above the law and his followers seem to be okay with this. Many of them feared for eight years that Pres. Obama was coming for their guns and probably still fear this. It's sad and unbelievable.

SO I return to Nature, to refill, to reflect, to mourn what is being revealed about my fellow Americans, and to listen to Nature's messages and as a means of surviving these times that stir despair in me.

No, I've not forgotten the big picture. I appreciate that the president and his administration are revealing our shadow through a huge clearing of what's beneath our collective rug for centuries.

I can hold appreciation and despair simultaneously yet when I feel depleted as these past few months have been for me its harder but I can still do so. I cannot not tune in. For me, that's ignoring which is partially how we arrived at Now.

As a sensitive, I truly can't fathom someone especially in a position of such importance using the language he's using. SOB!? Going to hell?! But after "grab them by the pussy" was acceptable to many why am I surprised.

(I think I just made a Freudian highlight. I highlighted the wrong SO because I wish those who disagreed with me could be open and also help me understand how so many things that to me seem not okay to them seem okay.)

So if I'm going to practice what I write, I drag myself outside to complete this piece and as usual find an epiphany and peace. (I drag myself because I'm recovering from a temporary knock-out punch from a spider and bed bug bites.)

The double-blooming azaleas overflow with blossoms, more than they've ever had in the last dozen years of calling our temporary spot of earth home.

I immediately know I'm being shown more of the big picture. I am being shown Souls waking up, here to blossom in this time rooted in Earth and fed by Sun's light.

I feel deep satisfaction and joy seeing this and being open to seeing these Sights.

Being plugged into Nature, allows me to more peacefully navigate being plugged into world events.

What helps you navigate the present without denying or ignoring the events of the Times?
-Dawn, The Good News Muse,  Imagine the Shift
28 Sept. 2017

Sunday, August 20, 2017

Nature Speaks - Are You Listening?

Nature is continually speaking. Are you listening? Do you see?

While polishing my toenails yesterday, I noticed a speck of lint on my finger. It wouldn't leave as I attempted to brush it aside.  Upon closer look I was grateful for its persistence because the fuzzy speck was a yellow-tipped goldfinch feather.

I was captivated and elated. Immediately I knew I needed to acknowledge the Nature spirits and Nature and ask for assistance in this time of lifting Earth in love. This came to mind but was quickly followed by 'I wish I had another sign.'

That's when I recalled the thank you card I had just gotten from a neighbor at the front door. I opened it. What was on the card? Gold finches.

Excuse me. If I typed this as I felt it, gold finches would be more like GOLDFINCHES.

Still I wanted yet another confirmation, a third sign from gold finch. What?! Why was it not enough to find a wisp of a feather stuck to my finger?

So the Universe, ever patient with me, concurred. I went to get my camera and there was the plaque from years ago from a friend, a plaque I had set aside because it needed a new nail for hanging.  The plaque read: "May the Sun's embrace fall upon this place" and yes there were the requested goldfinches.

After this, I reached for "Nature Speaks" by Ted Andrews. The message of gold finch was perfect.

Goldfinch represents awakening to the Nature spirits. The black cap of the gold finch represents awakening to that which is normally hidden from view. They rarely are silent so they teach us that Nature's always speaking to us. Their undulating flight pattern reflects the ability to lead us between the inner and outer realms, the physical and spiritual realms and from the human to the fairy realms.

Their yellow and black coloring reminded me of tomorrow's solar eclipse as the Moon and Sun embrace. The shadow of that embrace will literally "fall upon this place" as the plaque intimates.

Nature and her Spirits are at our fingertips here to assist in this time....if only we stay awake, listen, see, and open to feeling the messages as they arrive.

Look closely to see the wisp of a feather on my finger tip. 
If this Good News resonates with you, acknowledge the Nature Spirits, acknowledge the Trees, the plant world, the rocks, the birds and all Creation. Ask forgiveness for our negligence. Rejoice in Creation's presence and ask that each assist us in this Time.

-Dawn, The Good News Muse at Imagine the Shift
20 August 2017

Of Bullets, Butts, Beauty, and Brevity - A Story for Today's Shadow Inspired by Blossoms and a Bag

Early last summer, these blossoms and I began an ongoing relationship. I first noticed them at the street’s edge during a morning walk in late June. Their pastel purple and hot pink got my attention. 

I picked one up to study its beauty. 

Unfurled, a few steps away a cluster of blossoms caught my eye. I bent down to get them only to realize the pink that I thought was part of the flower was actually pink bone shapes on a bag of dog poop someone had left among the blossoms. 

How perfect. We are all one.’ was my first thought. This was quickly followed by ‘Huh? This bag is unnatural. How can plastic be part of the one?’ 

I picked up a blossom and the bag and walked home pondering how it is we’ve unconsciously turned Earth into a dump for inventions, like plastic, whose long-term consequences haven’t been fully considered. 

Ironically our physical bodies will decompose long before the remains of our unconscious behavior. At times I fear we are creating an earth that’s artificial and unreal. 

I walked and experienced the beauty of this blossom that had entered a new phase, a phase many would label dead. Maybe it held a clue to some of the challenges presented here in Earth School.

I wanted to listen further to my finds so upon arriving home, I left them outside and got ready for work. 

The next morning, I mindfully held the blossom. Overnight it had changed ever so slightly, still it was beautiful fading and withering into a new texture, color, and shape. It was departing to eventually live as memory.

To make peace with departure - change, loss, declines, good-byes, and ultimately death - is one of the most necessary (and for me challenging) lessons in this journey. 

Suddenly I wondered if on an unconscious level plastics were made as a means to create beauty that would not depart. A plastic blossom or bouquet outlasts the nature-made yet doesn’t hold the energy this parting one did. Cupped in my palm, I felt the blossoms subtle energy as it shared its presence with me. 

My momentary meditation concluded but I could not relinquish the blossom. I continued to be drawn to it even in this parting phase. 

The next day enroute to a meeting, I intentionally drove past the site where the blossoms lay. To my surprise, more had fallen overnight. Their cylindrical bodies scattered about reminded me of cigarette butts and bullets. 

What might happen if someone had to hold a blossom before taking a drag or taking a life? 

I’m serious. 

What might shift in a person’s experience, their heart, body, soul, and mind, if they first had to hold a blossom in their palm? What space might open up inside if before taking another’s life or numbing one’s own experience, a person studied the lines, colors,and textures of a blossom or considered its wisdom?  

Could a blossom’s beauty be an antidote for violence and its brevity a wake-up call from numbing behaviors and sleepwalking through life?

I took another blossom as a reminder of this encounter. 

Several days passed. I had not walked or held the blossoms nor had I revisited the plastic bag in the mulch where I initially placed it. 

I set off on my morning walk but this time went in the opposite direction. At the turning point, the blossom crossed my mind. I circled a pile of roadside brush awaiting the quarterly Metro pick-up crew and looked down to see, yes, another blossom. Its petals, not yet curled inward, held moisture from the overnight rain. Its veins resembled a miniature lilac forest. 

I walked with this damp open blossom while pondering the importance of not becoming dry. I can easily slip into conditions leading to dryness when I experience life as a burden instead of a gift or when I live from “have to” rather than “get to,” when I tire of tears and close my heart or allow fear from current events to give rise to despair. 

Upon arriving home, this blossom joined the other two reminiscent of papery, Monet scrolls now residing on a bookshelf. 

Still I ignored the plastic bag. Thinking of it created an inner tension. It reminded me of my concerns for Earth. It stirred my frustration toward people who seem oblivious to increasing the plastic quotient on the planet. And it touched my personal despair related to the plastic I see flowing through my own life in the recycling bin each week.      

Weeks passed, before I finally retrieved the bag. In that time, our collective shadow was in the spotlight as black men were killed by police officers in Minnesota, Texas and Louisiana followed by the republican and democratic conventions.

When I finally went to get the bag, I discovered the beauty in it as well as the profoundness of where I previously placed it.

Nearly twenty years ago, we laid sod in our back yard. That sod never flourished. At the time, I didn’t realize each square was held together by green mesh (plastic of course) which over time began to reveal itself.

I’ve associated this mesh with a grid of Love as green is the color of the heart center. This time I realize I’m being shown the grid of Love and compassion rising in this time.

It is perfect that the bag of neglected dog waste (a symbol of our material trash and the stuff of our unconscious which drives our unexamined behaviors and attitudes) lay on the green grid rising from the underworld of my yard. The green mesh is a symbol of Mother Earth rising to love each of us despite our trash and our shadow. 

It is also perfect the bag is covered in pink bones for in this I see the pink bones of the Divine Feminine rising on the grid of Love holding us and all our shit and shadow just like the bag holds the dog waste. These pink bones rise to say, “Give me your weary ways. Let me have your have-to’s, your burdens, all the experiences that have led to your dryness, your heavy heart, your fears, your personal and your ancestral traumas, America’s sufferings and the world’s sufferings. My pink bones know suffering. My pink bones have been used, abused, violated, and raped. And my pink bones are rising in this time.”

Remember how that first blossom prompted me to consider how at death we physically decompose? 

Love is the great decomposer. 

Love is rising to lay to rest our disconnects internally and externally. If we choose, we each have the ability to hold the blossom of our body and feel its energy, hear its truths and reflect before pulling the trigger of reactivity, judgement, and condemnation.

This love is not the love of stuff and material goods or love that is temperamental and based in momentary positive feeling.This is Big LOVE, the Love embodied and lived out by Jesus, Ghandi, Martin Luther King, Mother Teresa, Joan of Arc and millions of unnamed souls throughout time who have held the vibration of compassion in the face of profound judgment, torture and hate. 

This Love dismantles the old forms societally and within us. This Love is needed now more than ever as we witness the breaking down of systems that for eons have used power improperly to abuse and control. Yes, it’s messy, chaotic and violent at times as fear prompts reactivity rather than reflection and as the patriarchy clings to diminishing power. 

Yet Love is rising like the green grid in my yard to lay the dying patriarchy to rest as a healthy masculine emerges to dance with a healthy feminine in us all.

Love is the great composer orchestrating this new dance and love is the great decomposer breaking down our disconnects within and without. 

Months passed since that first encounter with the blossoms. In that time, I allowed my awareness and focus to be hijacked by my own shadow. My reaction to more shootings of black men by police officers as well as officers being shot, the presidential election and the neglect of Mother Earth stirred my fear and created profound inner tension for me. At times I’ve been paralyzed by rage and have wanted to beg Earth to destroy us all. 

I temporarily lost heart. 

Then I finally revisited the bag of dog waste. 

A critter had moved the bag from beside the chair that is my morning sitting place to beneath the Japanese maple surrounded by ferns not far away. The bag had been placed in what I consider the sacred resting place of my yard where I lay dead animals that I find or that find me. 

To my surprise, when I retrieved the bag the waste inside was gone, not emptied, but decomposed, gone. 

A squirrel or a Nature Spirit had done for my shadow what I usually do for the animals. It had  laid to rest my need to control out of fear and mistrust. It had laid to rest my self-negligence, my ignoring, my anger, my grief.  

This is the beauty of grace to me. 

Love is the great decomposer. Love is the great composer. And life on earth is a never ending love story of joy, pleasure, heartbreak, and pain. 

We are each departing, just as the old ways are departing, like the blossoms. If we can only realize Earth is this amazing home offering herself to us for this oh-so brief time maybe just maybe Earth wouldn’t be a dump for plastic or for the unconscious violence we cause to ourselves and others. 


Since last November, I have kept the parts of this story on a nearby table. I’ve avoided completing the story though I have literally from time to time held the parts -dried blossoms,green netting, and a pink bone covered bag. 

This week I shared with someone how my cats have different ways of sharing their messages with me. Redbud for example within one month of being in my home found a Grand Canyon National Park newspaper which he left in the middle of the floor. He had pulled it from a file folder I forgot I even had just as I was debating whether to cancel an Autumn Equinox trip to the Grand Canyon. Four years ago, I heeded Redbud’s message. 

I told my client that at times when I allowed Redbud into my office he left things in the middle of the rug as well. I was mindful as I spoke these words that he hadn’t done so in a long time. 

That evening, I found in the center of the office rug the green netting that is integral to this story. In the netting was a dried green leaf from one of the blossoms.  I was being reminded Love was rising to embrace me and my heart’s dryness so I could ultimately “leave” this self-inflicted dry period. Redbud was also telling me it is time to share this message of Love’s Rising. 

Remember how I've held the blossoms? 

To those of us who carry this Great Love, please hold these Times and our fellow travelers in your loving hands for you and I are the embodiment of those pink bones of the Divine Feminine. 

To ponder: 

1) I have literally held the parts of this story yet avoided this story?  In the quiet before pressing “publish” I realize I likewise have held the parts of this story internally and have avoided My Story out of weariness, fear of judgement, and feeling powerless. 

What parts do you hold related to your story and Earth’s Story in this time? Do you reflect and consider responsible action or avoid, distract, react, and ignore? 

2) What if realizing the brevity and beauty of life holds a key to violence diminishing between individuals and also the self-inflicted violence of judgement and self-hate? Really let Life's brevity sink in. You do not get another NOW. What keeps you from embracing now? What keeps you from seeing the beauty all around you?

3) We are, like the blossoms, each departing. What do you want the memory of YOU to be? How do you want to be remembered by those you encounter each day and by those who will hear of you in future time?

-Dawn, The Good News Muse  at Imagine the Shift 
20 August 2017