MEDITATION

I was doing some guided imagery experiments once upon a time. Trying to get my e

head back in the right space. Takes time. Body may be boxed in, body doesn't have to be.

This is a tree known at the stinton oak. It is or was several years ago in county Devon in England. The tree is probably close to a thousand years old. Give or take a century. Kind of reminds me of an Ent, actually. Battered, missing branches, still standing. 

MEDITATION

Close your eyes and feel your body. Breath in, breath out; savor the miracle of breath. Feel your fingers. Feel your hands and arms. Savor the miracle of touch. You can find out so much; rough or smooth, hot or cold.

Move down your body, feel your legs and feet. With them you can explore the world whether it’s your backyard or the other side of the world. Walk barefoot through your world. Dry, rustling autumn leaves or the cold wet sands of an Oregon beach at low tide.

Breath in, breath out. Stretch out your consciousness. Feel the essence of your life. Your body may be new, but your soul is old. Finally it can express its beauty in songs, poems, dance, story, tears and joy. 

You are no longer bound by time or space. Let your thoughts drift. They are as free as the breezes that kiss you on a cool spring morning. But, it could be a summer night in Greece two thousand years ago. It could be autumn in Tuscany next year. You are no longer bound by time or place.

Stretch out you consciousness. You are an acorn born in the spring. You grew ripe through the summer. The winds of an August thunderstorm pulled you from the tree. You fell down, down to nestle among the wildflowers of late summer. The flowers die with the fall frosts and they bury you among their dead leaves. You are not alone, the banches of your mother tree were full. In half a millennia a new grove will rise again.

Another year, another spring; your shell splits. The first tiny leaves reach up towards the sun, the silk thread roots begin their long journey towards the center of the earth. Spring comes and goes. Summer sun comes and goes. A sapling slowly reaches for the sky. The wheel of the year turns and turns again. After all what is a century or so to an oak.

Another century of summers and winters. Your roots are intertwined with soil and gravels that rode the melting ice sheets that began to retreat ten thousand years ago. Remember, you weren’t the only acorn that fell that long ago spring. Your branches touch and intertwine with the trees next to you. Their branches intertwine with all the others. A grove of oaks a thousand strong.

Another century comes, another goes. You are slowly returning the soil that gave you birth. Even as your trunk weakens, it provides life to the moss and lichens growing in your bark. Trees were there before you. Perhaps they knew the ancient Druids. Perhaps Hern led the Wild Hunt through your grove. Times are harder, the earth changes faster and faster. But, not so much yet, that your sons and daughters have failed to take root and begin their long journey towards the sun.

Know this your life, and the lives of the trees and the stars are as intertwined as the branches of that grove of oaks.

Inspired by a piece on the website for the Raven Wood Grove.

JOSEPH'S COAT ROSE

This was a climbing rose we had in our yard years ago. Honestly I don't remember If we planted it or if it was already in the yard. I've going through old files, cleaning out for the newer computer and ran across this. It's called Joseph's Coat. Finally died of old age and we coule never find another that looks like this one. Pops right out of the page doesn't it?

THE BEAT GOES ON

I wrote this a few years ago. Since then a few more individuals, mostly men, have killed. Mostly with guns. A president who glorifies violence has been elected. Not only glorifying violence but darnit, he seems to have absolutely no idea how this country works or what it looks like outside of parts of NYC, DC, and Mar A Lago. All his Tweeting about the violence in Portland. I wonder if he can even find the state on an unmarked map. Or Arizona. Or Colorado. 

 I'm still on the reservation, sort of. More and more indigenous groups are fighting for their rights, against the corporate machine and winning. The Supreme court ruling are not exactly a slam dunk. There's a tiny ray of hope at the end of the tunnel. Or maybe it's just the train. 

I was not exactly in a joyful mood that morning. 

I'm certainly in the joyful mood this morning. Although there is one ray of sunshine. Michelle Bachmann isn't running again in 2014. But, we're still stuck with Mrs. Pray Away the Gay until the end of her term. Oh, joy. NOT.

I briefly crossed swords with somebody with the screen name 4given4ever in the comments section of a story on the upcoming Supreme Court decision on gay marriage. Typical fundie. “I’m right. God told me so and everyone who disagrees with me is going to hell.” More words were used buuuuuut, that’s the short version. And frankly, I’m not going to waste my time replying to his/her comments. There’s that old saying. Never wrestle with a pig. You just end up covered with mud and the pig enjoys it too much.

We wonder how we come up with kids who plan to bomb their high schools, shoot as many of their fellow classmates as possible and then kill themselves before the SWAT Team arrives. To be honest, I don’t believe we need to look any further than the twisted world of the religious fundamentalist. There’s something sinister about their willingness to consign those who disagree with them to eternal punishment. And the suspicion that they agree with the medieval church is that one of the joys of heaven is watching the torments of hell.

Heck hit the comics pages and read the Wizard of Id if it’s there. Almost every strip has a subtext of violence. The violence surrounds us. The violence is so pervasive that half the time we forget it’s there. Until the next kid shoots up a school. Until the next Marine kills his wife and goes on a rampage. Until the next young fundamentalists blow up bombs at the finish line of a race. Until the next kid plans to blow up his classmates. And the crazed dance of the fourteenth century skeletons goes merrily on. I’m a fairly bright member of the human race but even I didn’t realize how tight the tentacles are wrapped until I explored the roots of my Quaker ancestors’ beliefs.

But, I’m at the point where ever the Quakers aren’t enough. I think the final spiral off the reservation has come.

9. We believe that evil is not a matter of inheritance but of intent, therefore actions are not in themselves evil. Rather, it is through the intent behind actions that evil can manifest.

The ninth entry on the list of a druid group’s list of beliefs. I’m not sure I totally agree with this. Genocide is evil no matter what, however the intention to wipe out a whole people through hatred or greed is evil and how many angels can dance on the head of a pin. I’ll never make a philosopher that’s for sure. And volumes have been written to allow us to get around Thou Shalt not Kill.

WHAT ARE WE MAKING WEAPONS FOR Lyrics by John Denver

Found the mysterious lyrics on my computer and this is growing like Topsie. As usual. And now instead of fighting the Russians or the perceived outside enemy we are fighting each other. We are stronger together. And I guess Portland is proving this. I have no support for those who would use violence to further their cause. It simply does not work. That said, the outpouring of attempts to protect the protesters (who probably would have gone home by now) from the heavy handed, illegal, private army from DC by moms in T shirts, dads with leaf blowers and finally verterans should teach us all a lesson. Stand together we stand a chance. Stand alone we go down. 

Found these lyrics in a file. In the mid eighties John Denver visited the USSR. One side trip took him to the cemetary where more than four hundred thousand men, women, and children who died diromg the siege of Leningrad during WWII. He also met Alexander Gradsky, probably one of the most populat singers, songwriters in Russia. Denver wrote a piece known by two names. "Let us begin" and "What Are We Making Weapons For." There are two versions on YouTube. One from the eighteis when the two got together during Denver's second visit sometime in the late eighties. 

The second is from a live concert in Tokyo for Earth Day in 1990. In a background interview with the Chicago Tribune Denver said there were plans to hold a concert every year until 2000. Tragically that never happened. John Denver was killed in the crash of his plane in 1997. Doubly tragic because he had learned so much over the years about using his voice. That said his songs were always wonderful 

The first video has the song as background to a video compilation. In the second video of the Tokyo concert you can see the video on a multi screen off to the side. 

The section in bold was sung solo by Gradsky. There's a back and forth and finally Denver, Gradsky, and a chorus from the Russian army. John Denver. The kid who took a guitar and started singing. Not professionally trained. Got better and better. Alexander Gradsky. Started singing in his teens, reportedly has a three and a half octave vocal range and plays twelve instruments. Totally fantastice together. Denver's lyrics? Priceless. 

What Are We Making Weapons For (Let Us Begin)

I am the son of a grassland farmer
Western Oklahoma nineteen forty three
I always felt grateful to live in the land of the free
I gave up my father to South Korea
The mind of my brother to Vietnam
Now there's a banker who says I must give up my land
There are four generations of blood in this topsoil
Four generations of love on this farm
Before I give up I would gladly give up my right arm

What are we making weapons for
Why keep on feeding the war machine
We take it right out of the mouths of our babies
Take it away from the hands of the poor
Tell me, what are we making weapons for

I had a son and my son was a soldier
He was so like my father, he was so much like me
To be a good comrade was the best that he dreamed he could be
He gave up his future to revolution
His life to a battle that just can't be won
For this is not living, to live at the point of a gun
I remember the nine hundred days of Leningrad
The sound of the dying, the cut of the cold
I remember the moments I prayed I would never grow old

What are we making weapons for
Why keep on feeding the war machine
We take it right out of the mouths of our babies
Take it away from the hands of the poor
Tell me, what are we making weapons for

For the first time in my life I feel like a prisoner
A slave to the ways of the powers that be
And I fear for my children, as I fear for the for the future I see
Tell me how can it be we're still fighting each other
What does it take for a people to learn
If our song is not sung as a chorus, we surely will burn

What are we making weapons for
Why keep on feeding the war machine
We take it right out of the mouths of our babies
Take it away from the hands of the poor
Tell me, what are we making weapons for

Have we forgotten
All the lives that were given
All the vows that were taken
Saying never again
Now for the first time
This could be the last time
If peace is our vision
Let us begin

Have we forgotten
All the lives that were given
All the vows that were taken
Saying never again, never again
Now for the first time
This could be the last time
If peace is our vision
Let us begin, let us begin

Source: LyricFind

Songwriters: John Denver

GNOMES

I don't know if this mural is still there. Summer camp kids painted on the bridge support closest to the park. The rainbow is made of of handprints. Trouble is the picture has no protections from the elements. It's been a few years since I've been to the park. All I know some high water has taken it the way.

STARSHINE

Every once in awhile I remember the website NASA supports. Once picture every day for about twenty five years. Galaxy M31 in the constellation Andromeda. Some two million light years across and about 200,000 light years across. The light we see now left the edge of the stars closest to us two million years ago. Scientists believe that our galaxy and M31 will begin to "collide" in about a billion years. Stars are so far apart that collisions are highly unlikely. But it will be a heck of a light show for anyone with eyes to see as M31 answers the pull of gravity. Just a little tired of politics today.

A SENSE OF SOMETHING PART 2

I wrote this several years ago basically when I was first exploring alternate paths. At the moment I seem to be Quaker/ darned if I know. I still believe that we are letting fear rule our lives. I have learned more since then. If I had been a member of an earlier culture or a native population what happened to me might have been seen as the beginning of a Shamanic experience. And the word shaman has become an umbrella term for individuals from many cultures that become healers, diviners, seers. It takes years and all I'm describing are a few experiences. And some I had forgotten until I started rereading these journals. More later.

I suspect that some of the individuals we call “insane” may be tapping more deeply into this sense of what we’re doing to the earth and ourselves. And they just can’t take the pain. Is this attempt to communicate always there and we’re drowning it out with drugs and objects? Or think it’s the devil tempting us and run screaming to the nearest fundamentalist house of worship. Oh, there’s a devil all right. It’s called fear and we’re choking on it.

I’m still a little overwhelmed by what happened this morning and frankly it scares the hell out me. I’m getting an overwhelming sense that the scales are tipping and it’s not in our favor. I’m also convinced that the answers we need won’t be found in the organizations that run the churches, mosques, synagogues, ashrams or political parties. 

Too many groups are too invested in defining who belongs and who doesn’t. Too worried about what might be happening the bedrooms and not enough about what is happening in the boardrooms. Too tied up in the power games. Too busy screaming that they have all the answers that they can’t even hear the questions. So damned scared that if someone else gets a little “more” of something we’ll end up with “less.” Somehow we have to tap into the individuals that realize that the balance needs to be righted. That if we stick to what really matters, there is enough to go around.

We matter simply because we are. Each of us is unique. Each of the over six billion people on this planet is unique. No one is expendable. And I think that’s what scares us. The refugee in Darfur is just as unique in the universe as President Bush. And just as special. What we can’t seem to admit is that the whole universe matters simply because it exists. Too many are chasing things that they believe will make them better somehow. And so many have so little that just surviving takes everything they have.. One group can’t make the time to look up and the other group can’t find the extra strength.

I know that getting everybody to join hands and sing Kumbayah isn't going to solve the problem.But, I'm not going to give up, I've got too much riding on the outcome of this little thing we call life and so do the rest of us.

There it is. More later. I hope. Comments would be appreciated. 

A SENSE OF SOMETHING PART 1

This is an older entry slightly edited to reflect the fact. 

Something totally freaking weird happened one morning several years ago. And folks that’s the mild description. I was thinking about the journal entry I had written last night. The phrase “the whole planet is alive” popped through my mind. That fits, that was the theme of the entry. Then the sentence completed itself. I was not expecting this, I really was not. I will still swear on a stack of holy books, rocks, trees rivers, whatever. "The whole planet is alive; and it'sscreaming'.  And just for an instant, maybe half an instant, there was this mind-bending sense of “wrongness." A jumble of sounds and images. Continental plates grinding, whole forests falling, winds howling and a feeling of bottomless, endless grief. Sorry, that’s the best I can do with the sledgehammer we call language. I had to get out of the office for a few minutes. I was almost in tears for crying out loud.

That’s the best I can do. I don’t think there are words for what I felt in that microsecond. And I hadn't had anything mind altering this morning. Last time I checked oatmeal, applesauce and lemon ginger tea aren’t on any list of controlled substances. I suspect it was the entry itself. If words are mind altering, then I’m altered. While my brain is still doing little (and not so little) summersaults this had to happen for a reason. What the reason is I’m not sure….yet. I tapped into........what or who?

There is a part two.

I'M SO FRUSTRATED

This was posted on the FB page of one of my cousin's. She's three or four years older than me. There are some reasons why she probably doesn't process information the same way some other members of the family do. Lord knows she grew up during the early civil rights era. Not that the fight is over. I guess it's like "lookee, lookee, we elected a black president so there's no more racism, right?" I'm also olde enought that my response was. "Gee I hope so but, I'll believe it when I see it."

Anyway, I looked at that FB entry. Courtesy of this self satisfied (in my opinion) individual. I looked at it. I couldn't come up with any responses that wouldn't start a war. OK, she's my cousin. And you now what really frosts me" Her mom was a Latina. Family hailed from Arizona, New Mexico and, California. And it's not in the history books, at least it wasn't when I took history but, the people living in the territory we "liberated" from Mexico were treated slightly better than the Native Americans and almost as badly African Americans. She grew up in LA, her dad was a cop, probably was shielded from the worst.

Damn it girl. You take after your beautiful mama. Unlike your two sisters your Latina heritage is written on your face. Funny how breaking the law by protesting only gets noticed when the folks with the extra melanin do the protesting. And I do not support pulling down statues, breaking windows, defacing property. Doesn't solve anything and the folks who do it generally don't get stuck with the clean up. I also suspect that half the demonstrators doing the damgage after dark in Portland do not come from Portland.

There are anarchists on both sides. Too bad we can't build a fence around some of the high desert in Eastern Oregon, toss all of window breakers and gun nuts over the fence and let them duke it out. Tulsa, Oklahoma. Rosewood, Florida. Two black communities wiped out in the twenties by white mobs. Lynchings up into the fifties. Sixties if you count the civil rights workers killed during the push for voting rights. Hell, Viola Liuzzo was just chauferring students and making supply runs.

Armed militia types besieging governor's offices? The month's long sit in at a Wild Life refuge and the damages done? The list goes on but it appears that worrying about obeying the law is not an equal opportunity proof of good citizenship.

THE UNIVERSE CAME CALLING

The prayer that ended up in the entry in I Offer This started out as a more traditional litany. I wanted to use it at work, but I couldn't use a real candle so I decided to try to imagine one. I had a Christmas card that I had scanned in to use for my own cards. Just wanted one little ol' candle. I ended up with a whole room full. Without asking for them by the way.

OK I've got candles. Lots and lots of candles. Blazing candles. And this is where the universe got just a little bit wierd. This was back in the AOL Journals world when there was more interaction between bloggers. Anyway one of the guys who was following was having a hard time. If I remember it right I was commenting along the lines of "gee I wish I could help" when the universe did its thing. The candles popped up and one of those little beggers took off. A sort of US map was in the back ground and I swear that little flash of light headed in the right direction.Without any help from me. OK.

A few days a later a good friend was having some problems. And gee I'm sorry I'm down at the bottom of the valley and you are up north. Repeat performance. Only the candle headed north and it didn't go quite as far as the first one. The first one looked like it ended up around Kansas. The second one ended up just west of Portland.

I believe that's enough about the universe attempting to get my attention, at least for now. And frankly I've never really been sure about how I feel about this. Call me a Work in Progress.

JUST A THOUGHT

For anyone who drops by. Feel free to leave a comment. Feel free to tell me you don't agree with me as long as it's reasonably civil and you take the time to tell me why. Feedback helps.

CANDLES

And this is not the first time I ended up with more than I thought I asked for. Or didn't exactly ask for. I was just imagining candles for Creation's sake. More about that later. 

Something curious happened with the words from that last entry. I had the words but hadn’t organized the candles. So, I changed it a little to “we would light this candle” and used it for our home Sabbath celebration last night. I tried visualizing candles being lit, and it worked. Which is neat, but umm, it didn’t stop at four. Right now, if I stop and think about it. I have a whole table full of lit candles in the background just behind my eyes. If I really concentrate I can visualize one of those old candlesnuffers descending on a candle, but when it moves to another light, the candle stays lit. The blessed thing absolutely refuses to go out. If I try to imagine an unlit candle, it promptly lights. This will probably fade in time. But, it’s sure gonna be nice while it lasts.

I’m not crazy enough to believe that I can personally change things all by myself. But, I can try to keep the candles lit. Oh my, while I was writing this, they started to get so bright I can’t even see the candles just the lights. And I'm feeling unusually centered right now. There's "rightness" to it that's very hard to put into words.

Words. Trying to capture something beyond words. I do not claim to be a mystic. At least I haven't really been. Too much trouble keeping my mind from popping from idea to idea. To keep it still. 

I OFFER THIS

Several years ago the reading I was doing sort of prompted me to try writing some of my own prayers. I played around with some other folks had written. I did a litany using candles and I put it in the form of a traditional litany. Perhaps a little more later about how that little experiment turned out. Then I played around with that for awhile. And the words with the first candle are not mine, but at this point I don't remember who wrote it. If that person happens to stumble on this poor attempt I'll be happy to give you credit. 

The Dominican monk known as Meister Eckhart wrote that faith was like a river with many wells. I've been reading from several sources and while I've tried to remain true to the lessons I've been blessed with, I make no claim to be anything but the typist.

We light this first candle in honor of the Creator of Creation. We are grateful for the plenty that blesses us. In a world where many walk hand in hand with hunger we have abundance. In a world where too many walk in fear we can show our faith freely. In a world where too many are alone, even in a crowd, we are rich in family and friends.

We light this second candle in honor of the earth and the star that warms it. We light this candle in gratitude for the changing seasons, for the coolness of rain, for the shifting mists and warmth of sun. We light this candle to ask healing for our battered world. May we learn .to use only what we need and to respect what we use. Help us to show gratitude for the plants and animals that sustain us. Their infinite variety is wondrous.

We light this third candle in honor of all who share this little world with us. We light this candle in gratitude for our fellow travelers. We light this candle in gratitude for birdsong, the glory of infinite colors of flowers and trees, and the infinite variety of our fellow humans. We light this candle to ask for healing for those who lash out in fear. We light this candle to ask for healing for those who lash out in anger. We light this candle to ask healing for those who lash out in ignorance. We light this candle in honor of the river of faith. Help us to remember that the river that sustains our spirits has many wells.

We light this fourth candle in honor of our family and friends. We light this candle in gratitude for their love and support. We light this candle to ask for healing for any sickness or injury. We light this candle to ask that they may find the love and support to live the lives they were meant to. We light this candle in faith that we can return the love and support that has been so freely given to us.

This will be a two parter. My next entry is about what happened next. I kind of lost track of things over the past three or four years. Bad health. Having to move. Trying to get my groove back. 

PUT UP YOUR HANDS

Just blocked an entry on my FB page. From an African American FORMER sheriff. Hint it's the guy who used to parade with a chest full of medals he never earned and an outsize Stetson. All about how Americans are a mouthy, phone camera wielding bunch of ingrates. The last might be a little harsh but, put up your hands, obey no matter what. And all about the sacrifices members of law enforcement make.

 OK I'm being a little harsh. Last time I checked it was more dangerous to be a logger or ride a crab boat to Alaska than it is to be a cop. And cops aren't the only ones who work holidays and night shifts.

But you know what fries this daughter of the British Isles? What if those kids sitting in at lunch counters had just obeyed orders. What if the Freedom Riders had stayed home? What if the kids who came south to work to get people registered to vote had stayed home? When most of the adults were in jail in Birmingham the school kids stepped up. They faced police dogs and fired hoses and it was all on the evening news.

News flash bro. Americans have always been pretty mouthy. Especially the ones from New England and what became sections of New York and New Jersey. New England may have emphasied public order over individual liberties but only to a pont. If the Minute Men at Lexington and Concord had just said OK and gone home we might be carrying different passports. I didn't bother with the FB entry. Not enough room. And to be honest this journal sometimes serves as a great place to vent.

And imagine. If we'd had some kind of quick way to take pictures and make them public there just might have been fewer lynchings, massacres and other acts of violence against African Amreicans and other minorities.