That day, I found magic

Calling what I found magic is probably not accurate however, it is adequate for now.  Perhaps frequency would be closer but it also doesn’t quite reach it.  Magic fits  better because for me it is still mysterious.

It happened in a flash, forty years ago,  but to tell the story, the happening is multifaceted.  It begins with an interesting photo appearing while having lunch with a group of girls. 

One of the girls was passing around photos of her weekend camping trip.  When it was my turn, flipping through the pack of photos,  a head shot of the vibrant young woman captured my interest.  The intense attraction pushed me over polite lines and I asked if she would part with her photo.  Since we were but acquaintances, the request was bold.   Society was tighter and more prudent back then.  The request could have been understood as creepy. One of her eyebrows raised slightly but she smiled and gave me the photo.  I was thrilled! 

The desire to paint her fiery spirit was exciting and dabs of red and yellow were passionately placed on a blank canvas. 

Once her face was done however, I fell into a quandary.

How would I finish this painting? I didn’t want it to be a portrait but yet what the piece was about or what it could be eluded me. 

In the past, when these quandaries would arise, I would stop painting.  My inner critic would tear me apart accusing me of not being an artist who would have known  what to do.  Fortunately, at the time of this story, I was practicing  a new approach to my creativity. I was letting my inner critic, a nagging facet of me, rant on without protest.

The critic’s reputation as had been explained several times is a protective and crucial part of doing well in life.  Contrarily in my experience, its kindness (sarcasm here) has broken my spirit and defiled my feelings. However, once understanding the critic was not a good friend, after learning blocking or ignoring would result in increased negativity, I was searching for another method.

Whenever I tried to do art, the critic would taunt me with its doubts and fears.  Quickly spent, I would become confused, unable to continue.  That day I was exercising out a new idea, I was letting the critic jabber away until it was done.  The critic was my intellect, a facet of me installed in my programming by my environment.  It was also a blockage to my art.  Currently, I was practicing bravery in the face of its tirade since pretending it didn’t exist empowered rather than weakened its force. 

I had begun following whims of a sort.  I was following my heart’s pull.  The moment I would feel a stirring in my heart, I would pay attention and consider what it was ‘communicating’.

Art was often uncomfortable for me because I never had an idea of what to do.  Although, I had a strong desire to draw or paint,  art was remarkably confusing.

That day, I was practicing waiting –  for something different, something other than the usual complaints.  I was waiting for a pressure that would begin in my heart and end in a something other than the habitual criticisms.  This method was difficult since I had to sit still and listen to my critic’s barrage of what wasn’t good enough;  chiding me for not knowing how to finish the painting, ridiculing me for having painted without plan the face on the canvas.  Nevertheless, I heard it and let it go by, waiting for something else.  After some time, finally, a reward rose suggesting the next step.

“Look around the room and let a desire rise in you, just  like it was when you saw the girl’s photo.” 

 I complied.

On the floor, my basket filled with magazine and newspaper clippings, caught my interest.  One of the clippings, a murky black and white image of a ballet dancer suggested I put it under the fiery face of the girl. 

Now suggestion is not the correct word for how can a newspaper clipping suggest anything.  But nevertheless, the idea to put the ballet dancer under the face of the girl appeared in my mind.

My critic went wild with ridicule intent on saving me from this silly error that would drive my painting into complete failure.  Nonetheless, determined in my new practice, I overrode its taunting and added the dancer under the face.  When I finished, the critic was right, it did look ridiculous but now, too far in to stop, shrugging, I left the dancer under the portrait and filled in the background.  The painting was finished.

The next day, observing my finished piece, I laughed at my spontaneity.  The critic gleefully counted all the things that were wrong!  I waited until it was spent and after a bit of silence, a different thought arose:

“This shows a being who is trying to stand up with a vibrant, fiery and passionate woman, isn’t this exactly what is happening to you in your personal life?”

(I was recovering from a nervous collapse).

Stunned, agape with wonder, I asked how could an absolutely correct communication have been born from random choices?

I had no direct intention to paint the concept that magically had been painted!  Then, who or what had painted it?

Hello you up there, around where? in here?

Hello you, the God that cannot be like the one most talked about.  I know that one is not the divine.  For it is a contradicting God, jealous, vindictive who uses blackmail to get His way.  I cannot address myself to that version of the mystery.

Early on in my indoctrination, I became suspicious of the things organized religion was telling me.  My questions to the plethora of contradictions would end in, forget all those questions and just have faith.  This answer while satisfying many people, did nothing for me.  The questions did not fade away, actually, they increased my curiosity. 

The most blatant contradiction was the depth of His power.  All powerful, seemed not to apply to this God of the others, since although, in being an all-powerful God, He would let the suffering in the world continue.  Now I know, an answer is offered here by the people, saying that we cannot know with our pea brains the wisdom of this God.  Small children getting cancer, well, He wanted them back with Him?  This just doesn’t do it for me.  This belied the other attribute this God has, unconditional love.

I am told God creates everything.  All things are His creation.  Presenting these ideas, I am told, questioning God is blasphemous and what I need to do is his bidding.  This does not sound loving to me especially since He gave me free will?

From the evidence presented to me by the religious books and people, this God does not make sense to me.  And here I am told, He is not supposed to, I just need to obey Him and do what with my free will?

What is the point of bestowing free will as a gift when all the Creator of All wants is but obedience!

Hello you, the God I sense in me, the energy who wants the best for me, the one who cheers for me, the one who whispers of my greatness. It took a long time to find you. They told me you were up there, all around but never did they say I could find you inside me. And now, we are together, as one. You silent and patient, ever nudging me to honour the adventure of life.

A Silver Lining Hunter

I can feel my self-dwindling.

A force I grew to rely upon is fading.  My body is taking over my control.  Although that is not entirely correct, my body always had control.  It is rather that my consciousness is expanding since seeing the truth of this existence and my role in it.  I am an expanding consciousness.

I’ve heard say, every cloud has a silver lining.  With that idea in mind, considering perhaps it is true, I am in training to become a silver lining hunter.

Since I was taught to woe at the cloud when it appears, I often miss the glint hiding in the corner.  Sometimes it is a sound, an idea … a feeling. My distress with the cloud – ahem- shadows the silver lining, it becomes invisible. If I am stressing about the cloud, my focus is on the cloud, not the silver lining. Now, a silver lining hunter, I am focused on the search for silver linings. I am on the watch for that glint in the corner that sometimes is a sound, an idea … a feeling.

When I spy it, I grab it by the tail rousing it from its sleep.  Its force is mighty and pulls me this way and that way.  But when it finally settles, there it is – I have captured a silver lining in a cloud. 

And so what, why is it important to hunt for silver linings?

Because then one’s existence becomes about the hunt for silver linings and the clouds are but floaters aiding in the search for spotting silver linings.

Clouds suddenly are partners, as you see, finding the silver lining in a cloud –  exalts one’s awareness. and executes the supreme purpose, the expanding of the brain’s need for better thinking.

Something came to me

Something came to me dressed in white.

She appeared suddenly although she had always been by my side.

She didn’t speak but I heard her voice in my heart.

She had come to remind me – how precious the feeling of life.

I was stunned joyful, as my focus through no direction of mine, saw her.

My eyes opened wide and I felt a light burst forth. 

Laughing, enjoying my delight, she took to her business, sparkling on about the other side of life.

The one the dark hides, the one neglect fades away.

Instead of life’s struggle, pain and death, she turned me towards her beauty.

She whispered life is a precious treasure, made more so by its momentary nature.

And in place of my familiar companion ( the dark warrior of fear) an infinite light held out her arms.

Stepping into her embrace, I took the oath she offered. 

I vowed to accept the dance of light and dark and welcomed both to flow through me.

Curiously, once I had seen the angel, the dark transformed, made kinder by my new perception.

After embracing and accepting the light, I saw the dark through the eyes of love.

Now Illumined, the dark was kinder, less threatening.

The angel was life but her name was Bliss, and I have sworn to honour her.

Hello there, I am here –

… slid in from a glide …

Very slow right now and loving it.  The joy of this pace strengthens my love …

How grateful I am … for this moment … so comfortable and safe.

Not to say that at any second a rock won’t come winging through a window… life happens and we either play along or resist the inevitable – the no choice of reality.

She rules.  What comes to be – will not unbe.  Acceptance is the only sane option.

And I am within the changes waving in the wind … feeling the soft warm breeze …

Hoping, creating a going forward … gentle as I go, intent in accepting the turbulence within.

Honouring the result when reality again slaps me awake.

Dear Friend

I offer you unconditional love. 

I am dedicated to its power and have faith its benefits will empower us both. 

I have no rules for you although, if your choices splash harm on me, I will distance my presence.  This is necessary since my love is unconditional for me too!

Somewhere, sometime ago, I dropped the heaviness of arrogance.  When I saw its harm on you and certainly to me, I couldn’t let it go fast enough.  I have no right to judge the choices you make for your life and certainly my unconditional love will not wound you by pointing out your bad choices – we each have amassed numerous missed takes. We humans are born ignorant, airing live without dress rehearsals and guided by each other’s arrogance.

We are learning beings from birth to death, it is impossible know it all.  We understand more each day and that’s the best that can be.

I learn from you every day.  Sometimes how to be and other times, how not to be.  As I watch you my friend, even if it is not for me, that you decide it is for you, is none of my business. You are a free being …

This is a personal universe for each of us.  Although in fact, random and neutral,  to us humans, it is subjective, personal and intimate. 

We talk across a divide, hoping communication is received which it seldom is.  Some of us have not only noticed the reception problem but have vowed to learn how to improve this.

It sets us apart.  Oftentimes misunderstood, ridiculed for our weakness and vulnerability. 

Vulnerable yes, but the weak part is an illusion.   The vow, dedicating one’s focus to unconditional love takes courage and humility.   It requires  stepping into a vulnerable receptive stance. A step which can only be done with the strength of love.

An Archetype Visits Me …

Along my road of life, I met a being who introduced himself as Jesus.  Since the time element was off (it was 1981) I questioned his identity.  He said, I am the spirit of Jesus and I am here to bless you my child.

For a second, indoctrinated into Catholicism. I was intrigued, but then the logic set in.  In the middle of a life’s road, a being offering a blessing claiming he was Jesus?  Come on, myself sighs, what arrogance – are you feeling worthy to draw attention from one of the Masters?  Is it a delusion who comes to taunt me with mental illness?

Do I discard him, this he who says he is Jesus, or do I accept his truth and blessing.  It was up to me.  No authority around to free me from this dilemma, I was on my own.

And I felt an increasing pressure to decide. 

Do I need this blessing?  Is it important I make this decision?  Can I just shrug my shoulders and file you under hallucination?

The being smiled and answered, “Sure.  This moment is completely free.  You can choose as you will.  The blessing won’t happen unless your whole heart is open to accept it.”

How can I know without doubt you are who you say you are?  I have heard the Devil is a master of disguise.  This could be a trick.

Yes it could, he answered but that is your intellect talking.  What does your feeling say? If I am sinister, not only would your intellect warn you but your feeling would match it.  But your feeling does not match your intellect, does it!  In fact, you are feeling an attraction, a pull towards believing me, aren’t you?

And I was Indeed feeling a loving sweetness wrapping around my every pore. 

My intellect sighed and nodded in agreement. There is no way of knowing either way.  He may be real or then, maybe not.  It is a question of trust.

And so, gambling on my perception of odds, I trusted.  He was Jesus and he was here to bless me.  I accepted the offer and entered fully into the experience. 

For a bit, the fever of the blessing was impactful and people asked if I was a born again Christian.  I smiled and answered something about accepting love into my heart but the experience did not inspire me to join an organized church.  There is too much hypocrisy and hearsay woven through present day organized religion. 

However, his blessing showed me what love can be and learning the bliss that love is, I dedicated myself to learning more.

Have I authenticated my experience with an authority who would validate and sanctify its truth?  There is no need.  The blessing was for me.  Sharing the experience would fall short of meaning for anyone else.

How come I don’t seek validation? 

There is no doubt in me.  Accepting the blessing removed all questions and love has had its way with me.  I am now a devoted follower of love’s dream.

It wasn’t Jesus on the road that day, it was Love wearing an Archetype’s cloak hoping to tenderly gain my trust.

It did.

Love learns and is never wrong. What’s more, love strives to understand and see the truth. 

Love lays down ego for others, knowing in the end, it empowers the ability to return to itself.

The Paradox in living … of existing in this reality … this mystery we are in – being.

To intensify the problem, we emerge from within where there is no outside or inside … joining pre-existing entities created through less than complete information … inheriting an insufficiency that is ever lacking. We emerge into a self-taught constantly changing curriculum universe.

The complexity increases daily.  The problems pro-create faster than we can solve them.  And we bungling along, still reeling from our birth, battered and bruised limping towards the finish line, wonder what’s it all about?

A question asked ad nau·se·am – due for retirement, yet unable to give up its day job. 

Confusion and anger whizzes about, sucking the oxygen out of my lungs.  I agree, in fact, reality royally sucks.  Certainly a valid defense for rage.

But anger is part of the problem.  Anger, a son of survival is part of the problem.  It dulls the process of thinking.  It inhibits calm .. the better state of being in which the mind works best.

But how can anger not exist when very few squeeze the majority dry so that they can live exceedingly more comfortable than others? If they did this with nobility, the many might find the fairness in the nobleness, however, they don’t. The few take an unfair piece of the pie and do it by abuse, manipulation and threats.  They do it because they are ruthless and have no depth of feeling.

We ask them, how do you sleep at night.  Aware that if we would use others in such a cruel manner, sleep for us, would be scarce. They laugh and tell us – it’s good business and I do it because you let me..

What most do not get is that sleep comes easily for these few.  They have a dulled consciousness and cannot understand a more expansive breadth of vision. And although they are at the top, it is never enough. People who do not understand the level of enough, have a dull consciousness.

We are in crisis directly caused by the elite’s blindness – teetering on the edge of collapse. Why are they in charge? Because they are ruthless about the fate of another. The rest of us care what happens to another. We care because we know we are all connected and what affects one adversely will eventually affect all. No one is in control of this force of karma. The elite have no wisdom of this, they are obtuse. We all go down together or we go up together.

Left to executing personal subjective ideas from an intent of calm and understanding what it means to live in another’s shoes, we, the more conscious, watch the comedy of errors unfold. In the beginning, a few minor acts have not added up to much but we wait for more to come on board and realize the power that lies when minor acts join together with a collective intent.

The Pseudo power presently in place has no substance and will topple on all of us if we do not raise our conscious awareness of the possible consequences of each of our choices.

So here ye, hear ye, act with loving intent – calm in each tiny decision you make and if more and more do this, the collective will calm down and all will execute more smoothly. If you are reading to this point, you know this is a truth. You feel it as flutter of bliss … can it be true?

Begin with your own intent.  How kind are you to yourself and others around you?

It is easy to see how well you are doing … others will smile mirroring your energy back.  The trick is to not mirror any one’s anger and violence back but rather absorb it and neutralize their toxic energy with your calm.

Sentimental Has Its Say

Section one …

Hello here.  I am here.  Yay!  Proud that I made it and ready to explore the word sentimental.

It flew into my awareness demanding to be heard, indignant and quite frustrated with its listed synonyms! It sits on an arc of amassed treasures, a plethora of valued attachments.  Things that have inspired a good feeling. Loves that have warmed my soul.  All these make up the word sentimentality.   

Something trembles, tugs,  wanting to let go – bringing in sadness –  Don’t go – please.  Sentimentality has awoken.

An attachment has a voice, honouring memories, proclaiming life and cannot be controlled – its purpose:  to remember the futility of holding on to an ongoing flux.  

Loudest as it fades away … “all is temporary.” Sentimentality honours the life of the valuable.

Section Two …

Lost a day there, an interference appeared that would not take no for answer. When I was last here, my desire was to explore the word sentimental.

As per the dictionary, this can be described by several other words like, affectionate, tender – but in contrast, silly and sappy are on the list too; two words that lower sentimentality’s value to superfluous.  Sentimentality becomes an unnecessary decoration rather than a substantial strength.

Currently, sentiment continues to be trumped by power in the value arena. Most would estimate a low price for sentimentality in comparison to power. Power is the ticket!  The one amassing most power wins.

But it also points to something else. 

It reveals a shift towards rejecting affection and tenderness.  A hardening of the arteries, slowing the flow of feeling and stiffening the body for confrontation – protection.  Preparing for war.

While we need power to survive in this world, equally important is the vulnerability to receive – the silly and sappy feeling of joy. 

While power protects and keeps us safe, joy gives it meaning that without its warmth, we are merely existing in a cruel and violent world, waiting for our afterlife. which will be better – how?                        

A Passage Completed

My granddaughter is 25 today.  A quarter of a century woman fully completed. Perched at the end of an era, the beginning of the next stretches in front of her.

Unwritten, the blank years taunt, bidding her to write a wonderful story. Although, she may have doubts about the importance of this, there is no higher value than writing her own story. Regardless of whether or not she participates, her story will be written.

Fortunately she is wise beyond her years and knows, it will be more fulfilling if she adds her voice and becomes the author of her saga.                                          

There are limitations of course, but that’s part of it – creating in spite of boundaries, learning not to hurt herself, searching, feeling her way forward inch by inch.

Always, the dreams of what could be came first, they still do.  Each what-if carries a vibration emanating light and dark.  Being an excellent being, she searches for the choice that could cause the best outcome.  She is thoughtful, considerate and sharp.  Her feelings are strong, they lead her away from the dark, from the whatzit that is not for her. 

She recognizes what is for her in the way she is lifted by its whispering promises, but yet, at the same time, it also frightens her. 

However, can it be otherwise?  Being intelligent she muses over the many angles, cautiously, patiently, calmly turning them this way and that. Here and there her ambition pierces her, prodding her to keep focused. Yet she knows, she is in charge.  She is the only one who can write her destiny. 

It is in the tiny choices she makes.  A simple single step forward, a look here, a thought there, an idea comes and she chooses.

Slowly, happily, it unravels and she meets her unique truth.

Today she begins anew, flitting her wings into the light.  Whatever may be, she will surf life’s wave, giving the best she’s got.

Her strength knows no bounds and as reality passes through, she, calm in its center, watches her story unfold.