Confirmation

tree angel tree

I see it in many different spiritual systems (Christian and others), that hyper-positive word on Abundance, spoken with a jaw-clenched grin and wide eyes: Just pray hard enough, visualize brightly enough, give someone money enough, and you will find material blessings and happiness and all your dreams will come true. And you might get to heaven, to boot. You’ve heard the pitch too, perhaps: there’s so often, on the underside, a suggestion that if you’re poor or sick or unhappy, you’ve just been doing it wrong. You need to try harder.

It can be tempting, in the face of the Abundance sales pitch and its attendant guilt trip, to ignore or repudiate the ideas that thinking positively and visualizing what your heart really desires are actually helpful meditative techniques to discover and develop the dreams that you really want to bring to life.

I don’t really believe that I can think myself rich–perhaps that’s why I’m not. But I don’t think it works that way. I think that in order to create something in the physical world, we have to imagine it, have to believe it possible. And I think that too often, we throw out the early models of a dream because they seem unattainable, impossible. We stab ourselves in the feet because we believe ourselves incapable, unable.

Some people seem to have an inherent confidence and certainty in their dreams. They think a thing, believe in its potential, and suddenly they’ve made it happen. Some of us have to take it slower, perhaps, consider the options, shape the dream slowly, like sculpting stone.

When I first came across the idea of a Vision Board, I dismissed it because it sounded like the Abundance sales pitch. but then I began to look at the collages I have made obsessively throughout my life, and I realize that some of what I was doing was enacting my vision of what I wanted to create, or acknowledging an unsettled inner state that I couldn’t put words to, and suddenly the Vision Board made sense to me.

I’ve been wrestling and wrangling some dreams in the past year, some ideas that want to be born, and the past few weeks have seen them boil up to the surface again. Fearful that I will let them fizzle and die in the mundane activities of my everyday life, I have decided to do some collage Vision-work to keep them alive, keep them boiling.

You can search online for Vision Boards. Some of what I found was really inspiring. Others felt like exercises in narcissism. I don’t want to fall into that trap. I want to keep this contemplative and meditative. I think this will be my process:

Ask myself:
1. What is the dream that is begging to be born?
2. What is a reasonable timeline for bringing it to being?
3. What does it look like to create this dream in the world?
4. What does it feel like to create this dream in the world?

Then I am going to use the bits and pieces of collage that I have collected over the years to create my Vision Board. I have taken a piece of poster board and made an eight-page booklet to make a portable multi-page “Board.” I think it is important that I be able to carry it with me, so I can meditate on it no matter where I am. I hung last year’s Vision Board on the door to the basement, and I pass it several times a day, but it’s in a dark little space in the house, and I stopped really looking at it.

Last year, I tried to create it all in one sitting, but I think I need to do this over many days. I need to sit with it and watch it evolve, add to it as time goes on. One of the many sites I looked at today suggested handwriting the words and quotations that I want to add instead of typing them out. I think that’s an excellent idea. Handwriting activates as different part of the brain than typing does, and one of my goals for 2017 is to write more by hand.

Gratitude List:
1. Starting a Vision Board for the coming year/s. Thank you, Sarah!
2. The delight of a kiddo heading to his Grandparents’ house for the night. (Big brother was too sick to go, and took the disappointment with grace.)
3. Feeling a great sense of accomplishment. I’ve sent out two chapbooks for two separate contests. Now I need to get some individual poems out there, too.
4. When a single idea or reference keeps getting repeated in different places and different ways–dreams, Facebook references, old poems I have dredged up–and it feels like a confirmation of something I have been feeling or processing.
5. This week of time outside of time.

May we walk in Beauty!

Never Again

conestoga
Their names were:
Kyunqueagoah and Koweenasee
Tenseedaagua and Kanianguas
Saquies-hat-tah and Chee-na-wan
Quaachow (Kyunqueagoah’s son)
Shae-e-kah (a boy)
Ex-undas (Young Sheehays, a boy)*
Tong-quas (a boy)
Hy-ye-naes (a boy)
Ko-qoa-e-un-quas (a girl)
Karen-do-uah (a little girl)
Canu-kie-sung (a girl)
* (Sheehays was the name of one of the six murdered on the 14th of December in the village of Conestoga. I cannot find record of whether they were related. It is possible. Likely?)

Six adults and eight children, living–for their own safety–in the Lancaster workhouse, when they were brutally massacred by an angry armed band of vigilantes in 1763. Except for an elderly couple who escaped the brutal massacre because they lived elsewhere, these are the last of the Susquehannocks.

Tonight, we gathered at the spot with candles and sage. We talked quietly and cradled our candles against the breeze. I saw friends I treasure, and made a new friend–a wise woman full of compassion and infectious hope. May our resolve and hope and community call us forth into a new year with a firm commitment to continue to create a world more in harmony with Spirit and each other, one that will not tolerate hate and meanness, but will celebrate every act of gentleness and open-heartedness as Spirit-given.

Gratitude List:
1. Old friends. New friends. Isn’t it wonderful to have friends who “get” you? Who can intuit what you’re really about?
2. The smell of sacred sage, how it hangs about in my clothes and hair, reminding me to let go, let go, let go. . .
3. Commemoration. Saying “Never Again” together, and together drawing on hope for new pathways and ways of being. Plotting the loving revolution.
4. Chocolate. Chocolate and coffee. And more chocolate.
5. Maggie Doyne and BlinkNow. I showed the boys a video of her this evening, and they were really curious about her and what it means to parent fifty children. All around the world, there are people doing the Work: Maggie Doyne. Malala. Some kind woman on a bus somewhere standing between a bully and a vulnerable person. The Water Protectors. You.

May we walk in Beauty!

Alien Bales

aliens
This is a photo of those round hay bales run through a Dreamscope filter. I’ve always thought they looked like something from and alien culture and this seems to prove it.
Gratitude List:
1. Rest
2. Time to focus on some poetry projects. I have another chapbook in the works for a contest. I hope to send it out before January.
3. The social comfort of card games
4. Dreams
5. A warm cat. We going to try letting him stay upstairs tonight instead of going into the basement. I am guessing I will be getting up at three during his angst-concert to put him downstairs, but maybe he’ll be able to keep it to himself.

May we walk in Beauty!

My Christmas Wish

december-2007b-040

It’s been a while since I have seen a fox. At least a year, I think. My Christmas wish is that sometime in the next week while I am at home, I will see another fox.

Gratitude List:
1. Long, long friendships
2. Strangers working together to help a frightened dog–we stopped on busy Route 30 this afternoon to help a German Shepherd who was running back and forth between the lanes. She was terrified, and didn’t know what to do. Eastbound traffic stopped, but the westbound folks couldn’t seem to get it together. When she saw me coming toward her, her ears perked up and she ran to me, but even so, Jon and I had to sort of herd her off of the road, she was so scared. Two other cars stopped, and they called the vet number on the tags and one very level-headed woman who lived nearby took her home until she could get in touch with her owners.
3. Making Christmas. Making Yule.
4. All the goodness that is being born into the world
5. Highway hawks, the sun on their feathers

May we walk in Beauty!

What Shall We Bring to Birth?

text

What shall we bring to birth? What shall we draw into the physical world from the wild and tangled forests of our imaginations?

I never seem to know what I want, what I really want, not exactly. Today my vision is coming clear, forming a picture of what my heart desires, with more crispness and definition than I have been able to muster for quite some time.

I think I will write it down, set it on paper, give it a timeline, an expectation, watch for it, like Advent.  Name it. Let these short days and long nights of Solstice-Christmas-Epiphany offer me images and words to carry with it. Perhaps I will write it on a stone and throw it in the River, or tie it to a feather and throw it to the wind.

Begin. Begin. Begin.

Gratitude List:
1. Long sleeps
2. Interesting dreams
3. Inspiring meditations
4. Time out of time
5. Silence

May we walk in Beauty!

Long Naps and Dreamtime

solstice-morning-sun solstice-spirits
One of the perks of having people riding with me to school in the morning is that I can ask someone else to take pictures of the Solstice sunrise over the bridge. The picture on the right has been sent through a filter–I like what it did with the visual rhythm of the old bridge.

During these long nights after Solstice, I try to stay particularly aware of my dreams. This evening after supper, I fell asleep on the recliner. I can’t remember the whole dream. I remember a sense of feeling like I was sort of an outsider in a group of people at some sort of resort, but the image that strikes me was of a mountainside across a bay. There were large areas of woody hillside covered in blue and purple shadows, but the sun was shining down on one bit that was bright emerald green. When I conjure the image in my head, it’s like a piece of painted art rather than a physical landscape, but in my dream, I desperately wanted to get a picture of that little green patch of sunny green.

Last night, I had planned to spend some time working on a meditation I had just read. I thought I could work my way into the space of the meditation, and then gently fall asleep, but I couldn’t get past the first moment of focus on the candle flame. Every time I woke up in the night, I would go back to the flame, and start with orienting myself in space, and then I would be asleep. Perhaps it would be good to have something like that for the insomnia moments.

Gratitude List:
1. Christmas Caroling and Singalong Chapel. The men’s chorus singing “Twelve Days of Christmas” was one of the funniest Christmas carol moments ever. The women’s chorus was beautiful, and Javon’s final song, “Peace on Earth” gave me the chills.
2. Cloud-shadows on the sky
3. Fred’s Christmas routine. He can no longer jump up to sleep on the Nativity scene like he used to. Now every morning he goes under the little table, beneath the table cloth, and waits for someone to toss his mouse to him. Then he goes and plays shark hockey with the sharks that Josiah sets with his Lego world. He still has a lot of kitten in him.
4. Chocolate
5. Long naps and dreamtime

May we walk in Beauty!

Sunreturn

light-returns
How the Light Returns.

Breathe deep the light-filled air.
Feel how the new sun touches you.
Remember the stars that circled you
through the long hours of darkness.
Sit within the circle of the dwindling dark
and feel the way it bathes you with memory.
Walk the bridge between dream and daylight.

These are the nights of the dreamtime. The tender new sun is born into the hush of midwinter, and we can hold the quiet light within us as we walk, careful step by careful step, out of the labyrinth. The inward journey into the darkness has stripped us of our crucial identity, piece by painful piece. And now, as we step outward, the darkness offers us new gifts, images that come in dreams. As the days gradually lengthen, and the dark nights wane, what words and images will the journey offer you to put into your pockets for the coming year?

Gratitude List:
1. Those really super-bright stars at evening and morning. Sometimes you get those news reports that THIS star or THIS comet is going to appear fifty times bigger than usual, and I look and I can’t discern any difference. But that star in the west last evening, and one in the east this morning were so incredibly large and bright. I wonder if it’s a function of my aging eyesight? No matter. It’s compelling.
2. Driving into the Solstice sun this morning. The sky was like a gentle watercolor painting.
3. Waiting quietly in this space at the edge of the void, a moment between moments. Stepping into time outside of time.  Walking over the Dreamtime Bridge.
4. Approaching a time of rest.
5. The people who get it. Today I read a Jan Richardson poem to my classes, and I posted a picture of Richardson on the Smart Board that included a statement about “Seeking the thin places that exist between heaven and earth.” One of my students, who has some learning struggles, got really wide-eyed and said, “I like that poem-thing you have up on the board there. It’s like when you go to a place with a lot of history, like caverns, that you know have been there since before people were around, and it feels like heaven is right there.”  What a wise, intuitive boy.

May we walk in Beauty!

Crows and Sunset

window
Winter tree reflected in the basement window.

Gratitude List:
1. Class discussion today. It was one of those days when the whole period got hijacked by a conversation. Students were curious about each other, asking questions about how they see their governments, how they celebrate holidays. We’ll get Julius Caesar read–just not today.
2. Student musicians. The band and orchestra concert tonight. We have some world class conductors and some fantastic musicians.  What a pleasure to listen.
3. Settling into the darkness.
4. A thousand thousand crows flying in front of an orange sunset.
5. Yummy snacks. Today was JW’s annual Faculty Christmas snack. And a low-key, but delicious Faculty Party after school. There’s something about the special treats on these last days before break.

May we walk in Beauty!

Last Days into Darkness

lamp

One more step into the quiet darkness
One more step into the night
One more step toward the winter
One more step toward the coming of the light

One more step into the labyrinth
One more step to play your part
One more step toward the daybreak
One more step toward the Mother’s heart

Stand within this dusk-bright moment
Feel the heartbeat of the waiting Earth
Hold your head high, listening for starsong
Be still and silent, ready for the birth

Gratitude List:
1. Endarkening. My friend Michele gave me this word today, and I treasure it. I am grateful for people willing to talk me through the dark time. I am waiting, listening, being enfolded in the darkness. Hush.
2. How, even in times of silence and stillness, there is work being done beneath the surfaces of things. Crystals forming beneath the earth. Seeds coming undone.
3. Walking the labyrinth into the very center. Inanna had to relinquish something of herself at every turning. I, too, am being stripped of that which no longer serves me.
4. Sharkey finally lost that tooth today, brave boy. The big tooth has come all the way in behind it, and the baby tooth stuck straight out from the gum for weeks, making him look slightly vampiric. Tonight he pulled the thing right out, and then for good measure, he pulled the splinter out of his foot.
5. The people who let their hearts be broken by the pain of the world. All together now, we break open, and we pray, and we call for peace, and we hope, and we stand up, and we shout, and we sing, and we dance.  It is time to be who we have been becoming.

May we walk in Beauty!

Antidotes

lightreturnYes. It’s the same photo as yesterday, melded with a different filter. I like this one, because it emphasizes the interplay of light and darkness.

In his blog post of last Thursday, Robert Reich lists The 4 Dangerous Signs of Passivity in the Face of Trump Tyranny: Normalizer Syndrome, Outrage Numbness Syndrome, Cynical Syndrome, and Helpless Syndrome.  I’ve been thinking about what the antidotes might be, because other than the Normalizer one, I have fallen victim to the others, and to their sister, Outright Despair Syndrome.

Here are some Antidotes to the Four Dangerous Signs of Passivity:
1. Practice Deliberate Kindness: You don’t have to look far to see the acts and words of meanness that have erupted in the wake of the election. In such a climate, deliberate and pointed acts of kindness are revolutionary, a way to say, “We will not be party to this.”
2. Be an ally: To everyone. When you witness meanness, stand in the gap. Be the one who asks if you can help. Be canny. When you think someone is being bullied, become Present in the situation. Make sure the bullies know they are being watched and held accountable for their behavior. Make it clear that bullying will not be tolerated.
3. Speak Up. Tell the stories of kindness that you witness. Share the stories of meanness, too, and strategize how to better respond the next time.
4. Laugh. A lot. And not just at the cynical things. Find good healthy things that make you laugh. Try to make other people laugh. Share delight.
5. Believe in the Goodness. The last few weeks have made it harder than ever to believe in the basic goodness in people. How could so many people not let the racism and xenophobia and misogyny NOT be a deal-breaker? It’s tempting to make the next sentence be something about how people really are selfish and racist and xenphobic and misogynistic. Maybe some of them are, but most people also have a lot of goodness in them. Even Anne Frank, in hiding from the Nazis, said, “Despite everything, I still believe that people are really good at heart.” If she can see it, maybe I can at least try.
6. Gratitude. It’s been really hard for me lately to do this particular spiritual job. Everything seems the same. I feel as though I have run out of gratitude lately. Still, it’s a muscle I want to keep flexing, especially when it’s hard. And I think it’s a powerful antidote to despair and her passive sisters.

What other Antidotes do you suggest?

Gratitude List:
1. People who help to talk things through.
2. Joyful is the Dark--I think this is my favorite song in church, especially the second verse, about the Raven. Every year we sing it at Advent, and it always comes just I have begun to lose hope that the light will return. The Dark is important. As Jan Richardson says, “Darkness is where Incarnation begins.
3. Antidotes
4. Visualizing the best things
5. Loving and Being Loved. Belovedness. Remember, always, that you are Beloved.

May we walk in Beauty!