Interested in Embodying Spirit?

If you’re like me, you’re interested in feeling more grounded WHILE expanding your capaciousness, I highly recommend my friend George Breed’s book, “The Inner Work of the Warrior: A Manual for Embodying Spirit”

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Living in the land of Man, as well as the Cosmos can be fraught with twists and turns.
Wouldn’t it be nice to have a little book of big wisdom on your journey?

Here is a review I wrote on Amazon:

“grounding the cosmos in your footsteps”

By A. N. Schuller
on January 7, 2014
To quote from the endnotes of Embodying Spirit, “Only those whose experiments succeeded left records Warriorship is an exact and an exacting science. In essence, I trust the data.”

For myself, as a “social mystic” (pg. 17) this book is an encyclopedia, a dictionary, a reference of how to bring the cosmos into my daily life, into my body, and into my heart and mind. I not only trust the data presented in this book with my mind, but have found it’s truth in my own cells. Less a self help book, it is more a guide into the self, and then out of it again.

While beautifully easy to comprehend, don’t take this small paperback for granted. The tasks and practices described in this book have become indispensable to me on the path toward the transformation of consciousness.

He has a number of other great books.


For this new moon

 darknessIn blackness we begin

In blackness we return

Light moves in the inbetween
and waxes and wanes as it sees fit

light moves in the inbetween
shining from the Cauldron of life
whether we acknowledge it or not

When we sense the blackness, the light moving farther away
we can be quiet and listen
or moan and wail

If
IF, we are quiet and listen, what does the blackness speak to us?
Will we let the blackness permeate our lighted spectacle?


Animal nature

Animal nature – Where did it go?

It never left.

Our growling turned into domestic violence

Our drooling twisted into “food-ism”

Our sex turned into a process of power over

Our sex turned into something other than we intended

Where is that fierceness of a Momma bear when our children are slowly poisoned by the treats, toys, gadgets, cars, water, food, air and thoughts we are so eager to provide for them to have a “better” life than we did?

Animal nature doesn’t rush to get to the coffee drive through before the 2-for-1 sale is over

Animal nature is loving and protective of it’s children, for the most part – yes I’m aware of the caveats.

Without knowing our animal nature we run the risk of thinking the planet is some sort of machine that can be “used” indefinitely.

Without our animal nature we run the risk of not accessing some of our deepest knowing.

What does your intuition tell you when you take a walk among the trees?  At the seaside? In the Desert?

Who are you?

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Simple

No ashram

except the kitchen sink

No temple

Save the toilet that needs cleaning

No guru

other than whomever is standing before you

No doctrine

other than the thoughts

you choose.

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Meat Parade

The Sacred Dance
has no preordained steps toward abstraction
yet we imagine it does
The Sacred Dance includes unadulterated water, food, soil, and emotion, not emoticons

Image courtesy of http://thereikimuse.com

Image via: thereikimuse.com

This meat parade our souls participate in daily

pales in comparison to your first sweet,wet kiss

pales in comparison to the thrill of watching a hawk soar and swoop through the air

cubicle

This meat ballet
of digital
and fast
and now
and fuck tomorrow

doesn’t quench our soul’s thirst

nor our mouth

nor our belly

nor our heart

From the early days of our abstraction we thought we could
one-up reality, but

A puka shell isn’t a tuna

and $300,000 isn’t a home

So we push our meat to the next social networking watering hole
hoping to find nourishment

But, what is real and true inside ourselves?

Why is it so difficult to identify real and true in the line-up of our meat parade?

Why have we sunk so far down this empty well?

Where do we grab a foothold and heft ourselves back into the Land of the Living?

Why are we afraid to reside in the Land of the Living?

What has such a fierce hold on our collective Joy?

The meat parade can be beautiful but the Sacred Dance always is –

Even when it’s terrifying.

Better to be real and broken

than abstractly whole.

{When searching for an image to accompany this post I came across a group of I haven’t heard of in some time.  The Cacophony Society of San Francisco apparently had a meat parade – who knew?  You can read about it here. }

I also found this.


Trees or Convenience? We choose

You never know what will change things. For instance, one day the local, long-standing Travelodge, and adjacent restaurant, The Mason Jar, both shaded by huge pine and deciduous trees, was operational. The next day, the whole thing was surrounded by yellow caution tape. Days later the bulldozers and demolition crews moved in to dismantle all standing structures. As time passed I had such fear in my heart that these beautiful trees would also be demolished. But they seemed to be identified as worth saving and spray painted to indicate such and were not torn down. A parcel of barren, bulldozed, land is all that remained, save the seven or eight huge trees.

“Thank God they saved those trees”! I thought.

A couple of months later after the demolition was finished I was dismayed to find a brand spankin’ new Walgreens inserted onto the property. There had been a fully functional one located in a strip mall a couple of miles away, but in the interest of creating a grand gateway to a struggling neighborhood the powers that be decided a poorly designed, hard-to-drive-into-the-parking-lot Walgreens would make a statement. A statement of what, I have no idea. (I would imagine those that wave the banner of private property rights and free markets would applaud this use. I personally think we’re all in this together, that nothing is free in the market, and there is only the illusion of “owning” property.  I am in a minority in this thinking, yet the minority is growing.)

Fast forward a few months and the trees are still standing on the property. That beautiful spot could have been a small park, a neighborhood gathering spot, a refuge from the eyesore next door but instead, I see a new construction fence go up with a sign reading “National Bank coming soon!” Again, I am dismayed but cautiously hopeful – they will keep the trees, right?

How stupid am I? Pretty stupid.

All but two of those trees are gone.

Our high desert town has had many things to mourn the loss of, over the years, and for me those trees are one. For me, it’s the death of ancestors, before their time had come, pure and simple.

Something shifted in me as I mourned the death of those trees, something became clear. The deep desire in me to stand with the underdog, and those in need, came to the forefront. The death of six or seven trees have become my personal canary in a coal mine, saying ‘Danger! Don’t go further down this path of needless expansion and death for profit!’ The convenience of buying cheap drugstore items and a drive through lane at the bank is NOT wealth to me.

 

THIS IMAGE IS FROM ANOTHER BLOG, FROM A POST CALLED "Requiem for a sacred grove": http://addofio.wordpress.com/2007/02/18/requiem-for-a-sacred-grove/

THIS IMAGE IS FROM ANOTHER BLOG, FROM A POST CALLED “Requiem for a sacred grove”: http://addofio.wordpress.com/2007/02/18/requiem-for-a-sacred-grove/

 

yeahwrite


Letting go

How do we learn to give our children up to the care of the Great Spirit? When they’re born, we know we have to let them go eventually, but we might not realize we have to start doing it sooner than we expected. The first day of preschool, a babysitter/daycare situation, and later, sleepovers that result in a midnight call to pick them up.

How do we relinquish our hopes and expectations for them? What I wanted when I was in high school was a school like the one portrayed in the TV show “Fame”.  When we started discussing where my 14 year old would go for high school, I wanted him to go to the local arts and leadership school.  Much to my dismay, he wanted to do sports, which that school didn’t offer, so my dreams of living vicariously through him were dashed, and I had to let go, again.

As time goes on they grow further and further from the Island of Mom.  Pushing off from the shoreline for a trip to a neighboring island and graduating to day trips, then out for days at a time. My teenager just got back from a five-day river trip.  I had gotten used to texting him during the day, and just the loss of that small bit of connection made me weep, I’m not sorry to say, more than once. Even the days that he spends with his Dad, every other weekend, are opportunities for me to let go. ( I wrote more about that here)

My children rise, I imagine, of their own accord, up toward their own fate, their own path – the one we can’t walk with them. We aren’t privy to where that path will take them.  We can provide access to tools and strategies, as far as our own capacities will allow, but the path itself, is a matter between them and their God.

How do we let them go with grace? Most of us were never taught these skills, although there have been other generations that valued that connection with their children and ultimate letting go enough to learn to do it well.

Where is the best place to learn this letting go, now in this day and age? Who do we even talk to about it?  I know I’ve shed more than one tear over drinks with other moms, but that is commiserating, not learning so much. I don’t know the “best” place to learn these skills, but many people turn to their religion/belief systems, counseling, parenting books, etc. I have engaged with a number of those way, and find that I look to the universal, cosmic even, ways of letting go.  Breathing, noticing how the light moves or doesn’t move in my sons’ eyes, and listening – ever listening.

First, we have to let go of how we were let go.  How we moved into the world, transitioning from youth to adult became our programming. I for one, have had to do a hell of a lot of unlearning to make room for these questions.  And, I’m still unlearning, returning to a Beginners Mind, over and over again. Being reminded of returning to Beginner’s Mind is one of the gifts of Householding.

How do we give our children up to the care of the Great Spirit?  We listen.  Our children are the experts of their own lives, and it is our job to listen to what they say, not only with words, but with their bodies, with their silences.

What I have heard, like a rainstorm I thought would be a virga, but it indeed reached the parched ground of my listening ears, is my sons telling me, sometimes cryptically, sometimes point blank, how to let them go. This teacher becomes the student, over and over again.

 

Painting by A.N. Schuller, 1994

Beginner’s Mind, A.N. Schuller, 1994