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On Meaning and Purpose

I am lucky to have blessed revelations peppered throughout my 7 day a week morning contemplation practice. Since March this year I've given myself at least 60 minutes a day of focused time for writing, reading and meditating. There's one pre-requisite - the practice must be focused around my relationship with my soul. All distractions are dismissed from the conversation.

There is one particularly meaningful conversation that occurred over a month ago that I refer back to every day. I would like to share this with you. My task was to ask my soul and ego each for their interpretation of meaning and purpose.

This is what came:
To my soul, meaning is that deeply felt sense, a feeling of rich connectedness, a sense of flow and draw. To my ego, meaning is the ability to connect something in to a pattern, a system, in a logical way. It's taking a string of symbols, synchronicities and experiences and finding that they all point in one direction or add up to a truth. 

To my soul, purpose is a life force welling up inside that fuels service and loving action and joyous experience. There is no end result in mind, just the full experience of this moment. There is a drive, but it's a drive to pour forth the divine. For the ego, purpose is tied up in appearing like I know where I am going, in achieving a goal, fulfilling a need. There's a practicality to this purpose even it it is to find joy. There is a striving for something rather than being in it. for the ego, if I don't know where I'm going then I am insecure. For my soul, I am fulfilling a purpose if I know where I am. My life has meaning when I'm connected to where I am. 

When mapping the route of each, I see that the ego creates paths that I wander down, paths that take me outside the moment. I see that the soul accesses the moment as it resonates with meaning and moves with purpose.  

Power Animals: THE FROG PRINCESS

She is in the world but not of it. She senses the shifting tide of her emotions and that of her brothers and sisters singing in the marsh. She is in her feelings but not of them. She embraces the song while it refuses to define her. Water still clings to her porous flesh creating a sheen on her persona. She wiggles her toes through the dry mud on the shore. The Earth satisfies her too. She contemplates the lily pad floating by and the dry stone just a few leaps away. All of this is available to her. She must choose between being at home and answering the call. In the end, her choice has no consequence. What she needs will always be available. What she feels will always be in her experience.

Many are inexplicably drawn to the cleansing, healing power of frog. The mystery our minds can't solve is that frogs are creatures of the emotional realm and many of us have forgotten how emotions can heal. We are of the land, of the concrete world, and we attach our emotions to our stories, our drama, and our woundings. We surrender to the deception that we have to heal the story to heal the emotion. Frog does not have these illusions. She lives in the boarder between the concrete physical world and the watery world of emotion. She has come from the water as a polliwog, so to her the feeling comes before the happening. For us the happening causes the feeling and we try to prevent the feeling.

The lesson that frog can teach us is that in preventing the feeling we are preventing the experience of life. She reminds us to allow the emotions to flow through us, to boldly go as far as swimming in our emotion. It is love. It is necessary. Call on frog to help you suspend your judgement of your feelings rather than suspending the feelings themselves. Without feeling we cannot be in the world. With feeling we are not of it. When we allow our emotions to flow like water rather than cling to them, we are healed. Using the mind to justify our hurt, our pain and our joy causes us to be stuck in the past and not live in the present.

Frogs are incredibly sensitive to environmental toxins and many cannot go too long without contact with some form of moisture be it dew, rain or stream. They have been the early warning beacons sacrificing their lives to warn humans of toxic waters. Frogs have helped call people to action on behalf of Mother Earth and helped spawn legislation to protect and clean up our waterways. What warning signs are your emotions giving you about your environment right now? Are you feeling especially fearful or sad? What emotions are you avoiding? What in your life is causing you to cling or avoid your feelings? How can you shift your life so that you can flow with your heart regardless of the circumstances?

The frog princess reminds us of how to hold our emotions as both unassuming and royal. We must revere them as a pivotal aspect of our being while not identifying with them. Just as she refuses to choose the marsh, stream, or pond over the shore, mud or bank, we too must learn how to live in the space between attachment and neglect of our feelings. It is this practice that is cleansing. The ability to wash oneself clean in one moment and sink our feet into the mud the next is truly liberating because it puts us in touch with the creative life forces within ourselves and frees us from our story. So, spend a day with the princess of the marsh and learn what it means to feel.

Frogs are associated with the west on the medicine wheel. They reside in the realm of the unknown, in the void of creation. Emotions can't be known. If they were they'd be thoughts. Allow your emotions to be without words and find the divine in the infinite experience of feeling.

I Love Me... I Love You

I have come upon a magic time in my life where I hear and say those three special words from and to many people in my life. “I love you.” When I SAY the words my heart opens. When I HEAR the words my heart opens. My arms open wide to receive and give. There is nothing but wild sincerity in the action.

I remember in my youth when I was in eighth grade, about 14 years old, when my friends and I came to a place of free expression. We were fledging our families and reaching out for connection elsewhere. We were seeking independence and also acceptance amongst our peers. At that time, I probably wouldn’t have been able to count the number of times I gave hugs in one day. We were, literally, hug junkies. We hugged every time we greeted each other even if our last parting was 5 minutes ago. We hugged when someone said something funny or sweet or cute. We hugged before rushing back off to class. We started to play with those simple, yet so important three words, but that’s all we knew how to do, play.

When we said “I love you” we were testing the words out. We were asking a question rather than making a statement. “Do you love me?”

I remember that same group of childhood friends creating a group agreement that being “conceited” was the worst possible trait anyone could have. This polarization prevented us from ever looking inward to find love for fear we’d overindulge and become self-involved.

I moved the next year and was thrust into an entirely different culture full of strangers. The three words fell out of use and were only spoken to a boyfriend, in private. I spent the next decade exploring what those words triggered in me in an intimate relationship. Then I realized the real question was, “Do I love me?” After digging through the morass, clearing out the enchantments and pushing out the pity, I found that at the root of it all, yes, I do love me.

Since then the task has been to not let anything get in the way of that love, absolutely nothing. For those of you that know this path, you’ll know how easy it is to get pulled off course. Some days it comes easier to plague ourselves with guilt, judgment, and doubt than to stand in our truth.

The gift of it all is that thru self-love we can find universal love and then all that acceptance and embrace we have been seeking since our youth becomes limitless. Now I’m finding the fluid ability to open my heart and arms to brand new acquaintances, to co-workers, and to lifelong friends. I do not hesitate to share love because there is no boundary to it. I do not hesitate to receive love because I know it comes through my own filters of self-love and I am capable of navigating those.

I don’t know if this is a sign of the times or a sign of my time. Regardless, I would like to invite you to explore your relationship with those simple three words, “I love you.” If they’ve lost meaning or, worse, become a trigger for trauma, turn inward and make a commitment to traveling deep to the core of who you are. This path may take minutes, months or years, but don’t give up because beyond all the ways you tell yourself that there is no love, there is.

Power Animals: LEWIS'S WOODPECKER

He has a barbed tongue for snagging insects from holes in trees. He has two toes facing forward and two facing backward, like all woodpeckers. His stiff tail feathers make it possible for him to lean his tail along a tree trunk to climb erect. He can drill a hole through wood as well as any of his cousins. Still one gets the impression that the Lewis's woodpecker is distinctly trying NOT to be a woodpecker.

This woodpecker's namesake, Meriwether Lewis made famous by his expedition to explore the Louisiana Purchase with William Clark, commented in his journal that this woodpecker flies "a good deal like a jay bird".  This woodpecker doesn't pound out holes in trees to harvest insects or sap. The Lewis's Woodpecker prefers to hunt by what's called "hawking". This bird, which is adapted to cling to the sides of trees and penetrate their bark with hammering blows, catches insects on the wing. He also delicately gleans insects from the ground or from the surface of the bark. He'll gather nuts and berries too, and, on occasion, he will find natural crevices in the bark and probe those.

It's hard to comprehend tens of thousands of years of evolution bringing this bird to it's stunning form as a woodpecker then to have that form employed for occupations other than, well, woodpecking. If the Lewis's woodpecker has flown its beautiful self into your life you are being asked to let go of how familial or societal norms have shaped you. Clearly if this woodpecker can adapt his awkward climbing body to ballet-style flight and make a living doing it, there is no need for you to conform. Let go of the belief that your creativity is limited by what you are. This simply is not the truth.

This absolutely stunning, rosy chested woodpecker has a black back that glimmers the deepest shade of emerald green in the sunlight. The sweetest color of red covers the sides of his face and clean lines create a collar of grey feathers about his neck. This bird resonates with the deep nature of his forested environment and emanates true, heart-centered compassion from his being. Merge with this love, and know what it feels like to love without judgement in a way that overlaps with professionalism and confidence. A perfect companion for business dealings, this monogamous woodpecker is clear in his partnerships and exemplifies how creativity and duty meet for beneficial ends.

It is interesting that like his cousin the acorn woodpecker, the Lewis's woodpecker will stash acorns in holes in trees, but the acorn woodpecker drills holes to fit the acorn. The Lewis's woodpecker re-shapes the acorn to fit natural crevices. This, again, shows how the Lewis's woodpecker is willing to adapt his resources and his character to match his world, rather than manipulate the world to his needs. This is the power of a true artist, one who flows with his form and that of his environment to accent the power around him rather than play the engineer who strives to perfect.

That this bird is named after a famous explorer tasked with mapping the resources of a newly purchased territory is no cosmic mistake. You are being asked to take a gliding, relaxed flight through the unmapped territories of your world and see the resources available to you. Don't look for imperfections or weaknesses in other people, things, or yourself. Ask, "what is stunning here that I am drawn to work with?" In this way you will find that you don't have to awkwardly think your way through using the resources available to you. You don't need to go through the task of creating more opportunities. All you need to do is open your creative heart with confidence and come into alignment with the deep abundance of the forest about you.

Note: I've been largely writing lately about animals others have encountered, but this lovely little beast kept crossing my path on my drive too and from work. The other day as he crossed just in front of my windshield I spontaneously felt his energy cross through my soul. It's one of those callings you can't dismiss and I hope you find some resonance as well with this sweet expression of the Divine.

On Immediate Results and Real Consequences

Do you ever have the experience of immediate response from your environment? Do you know what it feels like have something shift so quickly that you're overwhelmed with the results?

In the course of the last 24 hours my reality has been completely shattered and then repaired to its beautiful self. Some of you may know of the challenges I've faced with my 17 year old bay mustang mare. She used to be absolutely terrified of humans, and nothing in the human world, let alone riding, was simple or even possible with her. People don't believe that now when they see how calm she is, how willing, connected and intelligent she is. Cherokee has been in my life for six years and I have invested hundreds of hours into the relationship. We had a brief riding career a couple of years ago until I ended up ungraciously on the ground twice. Neither of us are very good at working through anxieties over riding. So, we continue on on the ground, online and at liberty. She follows me around a grassy pasture now as I do chores. She comes to greet me and our visitors with enthusiasm and curiosity in her expression. She walks, free of ropes, by my side on our 38 acres. Still I want more.

So, when I had a vet offer to treat her state of mind with herbs, the temptation was too great. What if we could "cure" the last vestige of tension left in her heart? What if this was the "key" to being able to ride her? Wouldn't this be phenomenal? Once again, I repeat an old mistake. So many times experts promised that if we just do these few things over and over or for this amount of time or repetitions that she'll come around. So many times I've succumbed to the juicy quick fix that doesn't involve me. Still I couldn't resist.

We started her on the herbs four days ago. A few reports from my family members came that she was acting different. I saw it but was preoccupied. Then on day three (yesterday) when I had time to engage, I found a terrifyingly different horse. She regressed, literally, all the way back to five or six years ago. She was a fire-breathing dragon that jumped at my every move. Every muscle in her body was erect. Her eyes were as hard and black as stone, and there was no light left in them. Just like that, I lost my horse. All of a sudden our relationship was gone. I was absolutely crushed. Of course, we took her off the herbs.

I lost sleep over wondering if I'd ever get my best friend back. Would I have to start all over again? Could I really, really go through it all again? This morning she still shied from me, snorted and tensed up as I walked past her. She was wishing for me to leave. Then, just like that, it all went away. Tonight she slipped back into her current day skin as if yesterday had never happened.

As we stood in the pasture side-by-side calmly watching a cinnamon colored black bear wander across our property I felt safe with her. She watched the bear with quiet curiosity. All was serene. Really, it sounds absurd, but it's true. Bear is about turning inward and knowing the answer is within the vastness of my being while staying open to the unknown outcome. Gosh this horse has been a test. How willing am I REALLY to listen to my own guidance and to trust that I am enough? This isn't some fairytale, this is the truth, the hard truth with real consequences. Today I am so overwhelmingly grateful that the real consequences, the real answers were so extreme and so immediate. It's not everyday we have the opportunity to correct our course so drastically and come out unscathed. This too is a gift and I am thankful.

Power Animals: MR. BADGER

He prefers only to leave his burrow when necessary. He would rather not encounter anyone besides his next meal when he's out. His responses to inquiries from others are gruff. If he decides to respond at all.   He would prefer to go through the effort of adeptly and quickly digging a new hole than to face whomever has decided to pester him. Whoever does push too hard will find that he does have a backbone. When cornered Mr. Badger will not back down. He will fight fiercely and inflict serious damage. His companions are dirt, roots, and stones. He is fulfilled through his connection with the Earth. His solitude brings wisdom.

The consummate introvert, badger lives alone in a network of underground burrows. He will usually go out day or night to dig for his favorite meals of grubs, worms, and rodents. If he lives in a populated area he will change his schedule entirely to avoid humans and will become nocturnal. How many introverted people do you know that are the same way? Are you this way? Badger will help you release the guilt associated with being a recluse and stand in your truth. Do you find you're easily irritated at rush hour? It may be time to adjust your schedule.

Badger does have a few friends and can be seen cooperating with coyote to find rodents to eat and will associate with his own kind during mating season, but his friendships are pragmatic and he mostly keeps to himself. He has a lot of time with his claws in the Earth to make friends with the plants and minerals. For this reason, Mr. Badger is a great ally to help you understand the healing power of the Earth. People who keep jars of roots and piles of stones in their cupboards have badger medicine in their bones. Many people do this and do not understand what to do with all they've stored away in their dens. Badger can help them sort this out while waiting out long winter storms.

Just because badger limits his contact with the outside world does not mean he's not wise about it. Mr. Badger is actually an acute counselor because he is able to connect, without distractions, to his study. He can see and effectively dig below the surface of any situation without judgement. What he uncovers in the subconscious is sustenance for him and he is familiar with these things. He does not carry all the usual fear of the unknown below the surface that we do.

The term "to badger" comes from a terrible sport called badger-baiting wherein a dog is released into a badger den and is encouraged to attack the badger. When the two become locked together they are drug out by the dog's tail and extricated from each other. The badger is placed back in the den and the fight is started all over. This goes on for many rounds. When we are feeling "badgered" somehow we feel the energy behind this scenario. We feel attacked in our sanctuary over and over again, all for sport. Have you entered into this unhealthy cycle? Now is the time to recognize that you have the power to move on, create sanctuary and dig a new burrow away from this madness. The claws and strong will you possess cannot be won over by such shallow and cheap means.

The mask of the badger is in stark contrast to their course, mottled gray and tan coat. It is believed that badger got his name because his mask resembles a "badge" as in a coat of arms. This obviously speaks to the fighting ability of badger, but many hermits wear their solitude like a badge. Introspection can lead to great wisdom worthy of a badge of honor, but just remember that this medicine out of balance can lead one to become to a judgmental, gruff curmudgeon. The line between the two ways is as defined as the white streak splitting down badger's head. Badger can help you walk this line to come to a place of both enlightenment and kindness.

"There's no security, or peace and tranquillity, except underground. And then, if your ideas get larger and you want to expand--why, a dig and a scrape, and there you are! If you feel your house is a bit too big, you stop up a hole or two, and there you are again! No builders, no tradesmen, no remarks passed on you by fellows looking over your wall, and, above all, no weather. Look at Rat, now. A couple of feet of flood water, and he's got to move into hired lodgings; uncomfortable, inconveniently situated, and horribly expensive. Take Toad. I say nothing against Toad Hall; quite the best house in these parts, as a house. But supposing a fire breaks out--where's Toad? ... No, up and out of doors is good enough to roam about and get one's living in; but underground to come back to at last--that's my idea of home." ― Spoken by Mr. Badger in Kenneth Grahame's The Wind in the Willows

Power Animals: MOTHER SPIDER

She tests the space in front of her by delicately lifting the front one of her eight legs. Her furry appendage tenderly caresses the air feeling the breath of the forest collectively and the movements of the forest's creatures individually. The only thing that gives away her active, sentient thoughts is the small, almost nervous, twitching of the two feelers on either side of her mouth. This is mother spider. She weaves webs. She climbs trees. She digs burrows. But always, she ambushes her prey.

Spider is a powerful ally and her presence in your life is not to be taken lightly. She has come to help you work with your fears. Ask spider to help you muster the courage to look at the fears that are behind the negative, critical thoughts of yourself and others. Often when we get critical it is because we are trying to protect ourselves from something we are afraid of. It's as simple as the arachnophobic person saying, "I hate spiders".... the truth is "I fear spiders". Allow all the little fears to pour out of you into your journal. It is these fears that are preventing the creativity in your life, not the projections of others. You'll find that spider will come to collect all the little eggs of fear and transmute the energy into creativity, hatching dozens of creative allies in your life that can help you spin beautiful webs.

It is said that spider created the alphabet and is the mother of the written word. There is no better companion to welcome to your home to help you wield your words on paper. What more is a story than the creation of a new reality? In spinning a web, spider literally weaves a new plane of existence, an entirely new world. This world can be flat, round, linear or circular. It all depends on what species of spider you are watching. Each has their own signature. What is the signature of the species you watch now? What does this mean about the paths you have available? The spider has eight legs and the number 8 is associated with infinity. Imagine you now stand at the center of a web of possibilities with an unnumbered variety of paths to follow. Which is yours?

If you find yourself face-to-face with a non-spinning spider such as a wolf spider or tarantula you'll be examining a different aspect. Rather than hanging suspended by a thread and opening up to possibilities, what is needed now is to burrow into the unconscious. These spiders dig burrows in the Earth and wait patiently for their next meal to pass by. Go inside yourself. Snuggle into the smell of the soil, know who you are and be grounded in that. Here you are safe to confront your fears. Here spider will find you and use the effective poison in her bite to transmute those fears into true power. All you need will pass by the door of your tunnel. Turn inward, be brave, and trust that you are safe. There is no better companion to have accompany you on any forays into the unconscious to uncover the meaning behind WHY you do the things you do. They are incredibly sensitive to vibrations and can help you sense things you hadn't felt before. Spider can help you navigate the darkness and the fears and view them from a new, less threatening perspective.

Spiders are known to fly for hundreds of miles, even across open oceans, by casting out a strand of web and allowing the wind to take them thousands of feet aloft. This is know as "ballooning". They have absolutely no control over where their journey will take them or how far they will go. They could go 20 feet or 20,000 feet. Think about the amount of trust it takes to cast that strand and not know. Let go of control. Face the fears that cause you to try and be in control. Know that there is no such thing as control. Ask spider to help you see that you are already on this unknown journey. Anything else is just an illusion.

I love this excerpt from David Abram's book The Spell of the Sensuous about spiders:
"It was from them that I first learned of the intelligence that lurks in nonhuman nature, the ability that an alien form of sentience has to echo one's own, to instill a reverberation in oneself that temporarily shatters habitual ways of seeing and feeling, leaving one open to a world all alive, awake, and aware. It was from such small beings that my senses first learned of the countless worlds within worlds that spin in the depths of this world that we commonly inhabit."

"Ghostly Messenger" from Gracious Wild

This is an excerpt from my book: Gracious Wild: A Spiritual Journey with Hawks...

Another spirit I’d known in this life began calling on me regularly since I’d come to the island. The woman who was my babysitter when I was a child was a grandmother to me. She first appeared randomly in my dreams, but then her visits began to take on meaning. I hadn’t seen her during the last few years of her life and always regretted never saying goodbye.

I was in a dimly lit living room with the shades drawn. Pauline sat low on an old sofa with green and gold floral print. She was plump like I remembered her in one of her big, soft housedresses. The room was smokey with rays of light coming in through the cracks in the curtains. I knew she was dying.

“You should get going to class,” she encouraged. She was right; it was nearly time for my college courses to start.

“I don’t want to leave you,” I shyly admitted.

“All will be well,” she comforted, “come here and give me a hug.”

I approached her and bent over to wrap my arms around the round woman now on in years. She felt frail under my arms. The sweet scent of her housedress rubbed my chin. Her tight, gray curls tickled my cheek. Her arms engulfed me. I leaned into her and whispered, “goodbye grandma.”

I felt myself lifting up with her spirit as it left her body. For a moment, I held the embrace and revealed in the weightlessness. I felt so free. Then, self-conscious, I pulled back into my own body. I stood aside and watched her spirit ascend.

My wrist-watch alarm woke me from my otherworldly dream hours before dawn. I ate breakfast staring at three black windows and packed carefully for a cross-island trip. A setting three quarter moon surrounded by haunting, wispy clouds loomed ahead as I climbed Manzanita Hill. The scene was the perfect backdrop for a horror movie, and after my strange dream it felt as if I was walking the land of the dead. What was I doing here? In answer, a shrill, blood-curdling scream erupted from the darkness around me. I stopped, my muscles surging in anguish against the anxiety. I spun to face the tormenting barn owl that had released his shriek. I let out a madwoman’s scream of my own. Hearing my voice so similar to his raised my courage. His ghostly white figure glowing in the moonlight stealthily disappeared into the night sky. Just then my grandmother’s house came to mind. She had owl figures and pictures decorating her entire house. This was becoming way too real.

Little Bits at a Time

In our Journey Circle today we talked about how trauma can be repeated throughout our lives. For example, I broke my left femur when I was 11 years old and I can't say how many times I've re-injured my left knee or hip since then. Today, I shared how I see these kinds of patterns repeated in the lives of rescue horses. No matter how many owners the horses have in their lives, the story is the same. Some horses starve, are "rescued" and then starved by the people that rescued them, and I'm not talking one cycle of this, but repeated cycles. Other horses attract owners that aren't experienced enough for them, and the horse gets passed on to one owner and then the next because they are considered "too dangerous". Really the horse never has the chance to connect with humans and learn how to be around them. It is no fault of their own.

When I lived at the horse rescue a horse named Little Bit (we called her "Bits" for short) and my mare, Cherokee, were the very, very best of friends. This meant I got to know Bits very well. You see, my horse Cherokee used to be incredibly hard to catch and while I was out in the pasture taking the time it takes to catch Cherokee, Bits would follow me around, cuddle with me, and nuzzle me. Whatever rejection I felt from Cherokee was soothed by Bits' constant presence.

Cherokee's "Crew" from left to right: Ginger Snap, Cherokee, Star, and Little Bit. All now have forever homes.

I became so enamored with Bits that I ventured to take the relationship further by haltering her and taking her out of the pasture. That was a disaster. She'd try to run me over, bolt, and do whatever it took to get back to her herd. I was keenly aware of how far she had to go. With enough of a project in Cherokee, I never could commit to giving Bits the education she so desperately needed. So instead, I advocated for her. In fact, I worked to start an entire training program at the rescue with Bits in mind. When we had the program running I assigned her to the best trainers we had. To my chagrin she still wasn't able to find a home. To my delight the training program continued on after I left.

Ever since moving from the rescue I've followed Bits' progress and inquired about her health. For two long years she's been in and out of training and despite the hurdle of a mild lameness issue and the relocation of her primary trainer she's made steady progress. I had a couple opportunities to visit her in that time and she always remembered me. She'd come up to me like she always did and bury her head in my chest. It brought tears to my eyes. She was such an amazing friend to me.

This evening I learned that Bits finally has been able to move on from her past and find a great home. It's a reminder that although we do unconsciously repeat ugly patterns in our lives that we can shift them. It may not happen as quickly as we'd like and we won't be able to do it ourselves. We need to trust that the right people will cross our paths to help guide us along. We need to work hard, very hard, and persevere.

Today with her guidance, I remember that change happens in little "Bits" at a time and my heart swells with the memory of those warm nuzzles forward.

"Morning Walk" from Gracious Wild

This excerpt from my book Gracious Wild tells of how a female northern harrier hawk began joining me on my morning walks on a lonely island I lived on. Her presence was one of my first confirmations that my encounters with the wild had a broader purpose:

The female hawk's territory included this coreopsis forest.

Every morning, I walked into the coreopsis forest to check on the harbor. I followed the trail through the chest-high field of golden blossoms to the crest of the cliff overlooking the bay. There was a large opening in the coreopsis forest here, and an assemblage of large rocks topped by a stone cross stood in the center. This was a monument to a Spanish explorer famous for his exploits in the region. I’d try to get here early while the island was still at rest so I could linger, take in the view of the quiet harbor, and enjoy the short, meditative hike.

Along with the burst into color on the island, I acquired company on my walk to and from the stone cross. Each morning as I crossed the runway and started on the trail, I would hear an approaching keen. At first her cry blared then faded, but as it got closer, it turned into a ceaseless yelling. The female harrier hawk Morappeared coursing straight at me, her dark eyes piercing mine and her brown wings flapping sharply. She came right at eye level set on running me down, mouth open, screaming like mad. The trail was gently sloped, bearing me hard upon her. Just as we were about to collide, I abruptly swiveled on my feet to follow the turn of the path downhill. She immediately pivoted on her wingtips to mirror me.

We then traveled in tandem, my feet and her wings falling in unison. She hovered just 10 or 15 feet above my left shoulder. At times she’d have more to say and I’d turn to her with some smart quip. Wonder where I’m going this morning madam? Other mornings we’d travel in silence listening to each other’s movement and breath. She became so accustomed to expecting me that I often found her waiting at an old fencepost at the turn in the trail. She’d lift off as I approached and take position at my left flank. Her mate was usually in attendance, but he hung back and watched from afar.

The morning company of the harriers brought me limitless solace. Not only did they offer me much yearned for companionship, but they sparked a sense of magic in my being that I hadn’t remembered. I felt a kind of wonder that brought me out of the scientific detachment I clung so desperately to. With the harriers, I didn’t have to pull away and remain swirling in my intellectual dialect. I wasn’t required to pose theories and assign numbers to their movement. I was afforded the opportunity to respond and offered the chance to be a part of the experience.

During my enchanting walk each quiet morning, I re-entered a childhood of the natural world. My movement into hawk territory was no guilt-heavy intrusion into a place I didn’t belong, but rather a visit home. Here I acquired a sense of awe akin with the wild ones. The maiden harrier’s banter was calling me to something bigger than myself, to a purpose I felt stirring in my soul.

The Little Selves Seen

Today I was sharing with a group the value of employing power animals to help us in our daily lives. I have a great egret that I call in to help me manage my energetic boundaries in a group setting. I see her fly in and then dance, wings flowing, around me to help me stay clean and clear about what is mine and what is that of the people I'm negotiating with. I have a red fox that helps me look for something, or someone, I've misplaced. When I see him run out after the prize I trust that what I am missing will come back to me, and it does.

I love these spirits and have an intensely intimate bond with them. I cannot imagine my life without them. At the same time, I understand that my attachment to them is the same as my attachment to my role as a wife, animal mother, herbalist, shaman; the same as to my attachment to my ego. I love who I am in the world and I trust that it is not me.

I am the witness. As Ken Wilber says in the introduction to Caroline Myss's Entering the Castle, "we have at least two selves, or two sorts of selves - there is the self that can be seen and known, and the self that cannot be seen or known. There is the unknown seer, and there are all the little selves seen. " This unknown seer is considered our "true self" and is referred to in many meditative practices as the "witness".

How can I view my power animals and my roles as "little selves seen" and hold the truth of the witness that is me? Do I hold one over the other?

The one that judges the little selves as less than the true self is just another little self. When we judge our power animals as mere projections we are not speaking from our true self. When we dismiss our role as a woman we are not acting from our true self. This is one little self judging another. In our polarized world we fragment into these multiplicities to have the experience that is human. These selves are what make our lives so unbelievably rich. Their judgements create our experience.

All the while, our true essence remains intact watching, accepting and learning from all the little selves do. Our true essence does not know how to judge, only watch. We have access to all the forgiveness and love that is the witness at any given time. Whenever a little self feels defeated she can release the shame to the witness and be overcome with an overwhelming sense of relief. Whenever I am asking a power animal for help, I am stepping outside of my role as a wife, employee, boss, etc. and becoming the faith that is the witness.

This goes against many teachings that encourage people to release their ego for the sake of the true self. What I've found is that we all are a work in progress and to expect any one of us to be free of ego is asking a lot. It is a tough road to follow and not fit for everyone. I am here to suggest another path. Instead of struggling through all the doubt and self-judgement that comes with severing oneself from the ego, I have chosen to instead honor the value of the little selves seen. The more I love them, talk with them, and share them with the witness, the more I find they align with my true nature. In the end, that is the ultimate goal, unity with all that is, was, and ever will be.

Quote from Entering the Castle: An Inner Path to God and Your Soul by Caroline Myss

I'm Ready and the Story Always Has Been...

I've had a manuscript in hand for some time now and, as I have the courage, am submitting it to different publishers. I have worked over all the materials I need to submit including the manuscript, the synopsis, the market analysis, etc. a couple of times and just finished another go around. It's now time to start putting the work out there in whatever form I can. I'm ready and the story always has been...

SYNOPSIS OF THE BOOK
A first-hand account of magic in detail, Gracious Wild: A Spiritual Journey with Hawks is the story of a young, Western woman’s path out of the mundane world of scientific research and into the vast shamanic realms of the imagination. Her guides on this quest are a series of wild and captive hawks in the flesh. For those of you wondering what birds of prey have to say to us, this is a powerful window into their world. For those of you wondering if you have what it takes to practice shamanism, this is a strong case in your favor.

So often we in modern-day society are told that shamanic initiation and training takes place by connecting with Earth-based cultures such as those found in Mongolia, Tibet or Peru, but what if you could follow this path here at home without having to gain acceptance into a foreign culture?

We expect intense initiation rites like near-death experiences, starvation or prolonged isolation to be part of the shamanic path, but what if you had access to all the guidance needed without such extremes? AND what if you could get started in your twenties or thirties rather than waiting until later in life?

Through the eyes of the woman in Gracious Wild you can see how absolutely accessible this powerful healing technique is to all of us. It begins with spending time living and working in nature.

We first find the young woman alone on a foggy, windswept island in the Pacific. She nearly succumbs to her innermost fears be it for a handful of northern harrier hawks that fly across the open ocean to take up residence with her. While watching the raptors raise their families the woman begins to find and cultivate her own gift for finding grace in the everyday.

She takes her visions back to the mainland and soon finds herself in the company of a special harrier hawk trained to work with people. While developing a relationship with Thalia, the young woman learns how to contact the spirit world regularly. The synchronicities between her shamanic journey work and her training with Thalia reveal the interplay between shadow and light that allows both of their spirits to move into their true expression.

Soon Graccia, a red-tailed hawk, enters the scene and charms the leading lady from the start with her endless curiosity and carefree spirit. The woman teaches the red-tail how to work from the glove and Graccia, using love as the catalyst, shows the woman how to share the extraordinary. Together, they are able to forage friendships and open their hearts. Graccia’s presence is absolutely life-changing. The messages she brings are worth sharing.

Gracious Wild teaches by example. It is one of those true healing stories that takes you out of the rational “how to” trap of the mind and into an instinctual experience that pervades all layers of being: body, mind, heart and soul. In reading this story you will discover a new perspective on an old way, allowing you to dream your own path to enlightenment.

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Let me know what you think by posting a comment. Know an agent or publisher that might be someone good for me to meet? Please send them my way!

On Symbols

I had the inspiration for this design recently thinking about how many people include horses and hawks in their logos, but how many can draw the finer details of their features by memory? I'm still feeling through the idea... loving how abstract it is and still forming my attachment to it.

Now I have the opportunity to sit with this image until another comes. I think it was like three years ago that the first idea for a logo came to mind. Hopefully I'll encounter certainty over this one or other options before that amount of time has passed again!

Either way, right now it is nice to associate myself my identity as a writer and with my relationship with the wild ones.

Where Do We Project?

Judgements and projections show up frequently in our experience as humans, but there is a pattern of places they more frequently surface. Judgements occur most commonly around or about where there is an inequality of authority. The very first place we experience them is in the parent-child relationship. Here the parent has the power and the child struggles to exert their own. The parent can obviously be despised by their child when setting a rule, and the child can be resented by the parent for disobeying their requests.

One of my teachers saw most relationships we experience in adulthood as a continuation of the parent-child bond. She was extremely talented in finding the ways in which we can project our frustration or issues with our parents onto other relationships in our lives. She really felt this way when it came to the employee-boss association. In my work with her, she identified so many instances of me projecting my parents on her that eventually I had to walk away. It was too much and began to repel me from my current, adult bond with my parents.

Then came life's test or, actually, two tests. I had a succession of two terrible bosses. Since I had walked away from the Freudian world view of my teacher, I gave myself free reign to project on to these people that were making my life and my co-workers lives miserable. It felt good to act out, spread gossip and generally hate these bosses. I loved that after the vigorous, over-examination of everything I did to have a place where I was free to be stinking mad.

To give myself credit I was not nasty full-time. I spend too much time in my own unconscious to stay well and be mean, but I allowed myself more license than my conscience would typically allow. It was liberating to not have to be polite all the time and, rather than being a victim as I had been previously, I was an empowered rebel. It turned out that I had to learn the Herculean task of sending love rather than hate to the first boss before that relationship could end and, as for the second, that ended as a result of me finding that my dream and reality no longer met in that position.

Fast forward a couple of years and now I find myself in an interesting situation. I adore who I work for and I am now in a position of authority subject to the unconscious projections of others. And, wow, did I take those on! I felt and heard all of their judgements and gossip coming my way. When my friends would criticize their own bosses I would feel that too. I hit a state of over-empathy with people in positions of power and out of my guilt for what I had done to my previous managers I let a most of it stick. Luckily, I have friends who know how to do extraction and I was able to clear the projections out of my field and start again with a clean slate.

So, what now? Having been on both sides of the coin in recent history I realize that I have a new paradigm in which to frame these relationships. This has little to do with our parents because they become just another place to project. Instead, it has everything to do with us. When we project onto others it is our unconscious pointing to what we need to shift. If we are mad about our bosses shutting us down we should be looking at where we are afraid to speak up and how to gain the courage to do so. If we feel like they are making our lives miserable it's time to look at how we need to shift our perspective so we can be happy. Sometimes this means leaving the job and other times it means taking responsibility for our own experience. In the end, it's up to us to decide.

(In this Photo: Like this drake mallard duck that decided to nap on my frozen pond this week, it's important to remember that there is a time for self-reflection about where we project and a time to rest on a frozen reflection of who we are and just accept who is.)

Musings of a Shamanic Cowgirl

I've known ever since I started my shamanic practice over five years ago that I needed to set myself apart to attract clients in the ever expanding sea of healers and modalities, but finding a way proved impossible. I sketched numerous logos, played with infinite mottos, but I could never define what made me special. I couldn't conceptualize my brand.

Now I understand how this happened. In finding shamanism, I had finally found my people, my place, my passion. I had a few short years in a shamanic arts school of like-minded people before being propelled back out in to the "ordinary" world. In the time in between now and then I've experienced a mix of social situations. I either have to explain to complete non-believers the basics of shamanism or I find myself trying to justify my gift to well-accomplished healers. Of course, I've also had the fortune of having some amazing supporters through the whole process. The result was that I learned to stay neutral and unattached to anyone seeing me a certain way while staying in the truth of my gift.

Let's face it, as a young (33 y.o.) person helping others with their toughest soul growth I'm in a unique position. Most of my peers and those younger than me are not looking for help yet. Over the years, almost my entire clientele has consisted of women nearly twice my age. It's been incredibly humbling that these women rich with life experience have been willing to trust me with their deepest work. Out of a great respect for my elders, I have not presumed to know better. Instead, I have presented my ability and experience as an offering to help them along their paths. I have learned to trust what Spirit was giving more than my own shadow of self doubt. I am grateful for this experience and see its necessity.

Now is the time to honor these lessons so I may carry them forward because, finally, the words to express my uniqueness are coming.

• My practice is a shamanic practice firmly rooted in the Earth with a strong scientific understanding of plants, animals, ecosystems, and natural processes.
• I have dedicated my life, my work to studying and helping the planet and the creatures on her. 
• As a child I was an avid student of power animals, energy healing and spiritual growth under the guidance of my mother and her circle of wise-women friends. This practice carried into adulthood and drew me to study shamanism. 
• I love rural living. I love driving my F250 diesel pickup, mucking horse manure, hauling hay, growing my own food, and putting up the harvest for winter. 
• I live on 38 acres in the mountains because having an intimate relationship with the land is of primary importance to me. I am committed to growing the vast majority of my apothecary myself or collecting it wild on my own land. 
• I am fascinated with the soul work that flourishes while taming wild animals and have found a perfect match in my rescued mustang mares. 

Out of this new ownership of where I am in life, I've received some divine guidance with a twist of youth and humor. 

"Shamanic Cowgirl" fits best who I am... both introspective and brave, humble and remarkable, sensitive and resilient. I look forward to sharing with you the brand and image that flow from this place. It promises to be a joy!

The Goddess Pele

In late July, I found myself arriving late at night onto "The Big Island" of Hawaii. I planned to go on this trip, but had left the details to my husband. We made a trade. I scheduled the logistics of our earlier trip in the summer to southern Colorado with our horse and he booked our flights to Kauai and The Big Island. It was great to finally let go and be along for the ride. I was pretty exhausted and immensely happy for the plush lodging and full-on spread of food our friend had arranged. Admittedly, I was confused and a bit worn out by the enthusiasm of our friend as he pulled out a bag full of freshly picked plumeria flowers, a "lea needle" and thread. He was excited to show us how to make our own leas. I held my eyes open through the demonstration then allowed myself to be towed along out to his car.

Where in the world could we be going at 12:30pm at night with three leas in hand? It was cold outside and that cozy bed sounded so nice. Our friend was bubbling with excitement and rightfully so, I had no idea what was in store.

In 5 minutes I was there, standing on the edge of a gigantic volcanic crater. The moonlight lit the entire crater and nearly blotted out all stars. Out before us rose and traveled out to sea an enormous plume of smoke, the breath of lava. At the mouth of the crater the smoke glowed bright red reflecting the lake of molten earth below. Molten earth. I had no idea I was going to see the Goddess Pele creating new land. I hadn't even realized what this meant before this moment. At this moment, I remembered having this desire all my life. The fulfillment of this desire ran fresh through my veins. I was stunned by the experience and felt intense gratitude as our friend sang a chant to Pele and directed us to cast our leas as our gift.

This is what it looks like to travel, to live, without agenda. I wonder if this is what it's like for Pele to create new land, to all of a sudden find that she has stepped foot into an experience that fulfills a deep yearning. What if every experience of our lives could be this spontaneous and this preordained? I encourage you to consider releasing the agenda and showing up on new ground. I surely wasn't disappointed.

To Suppress or Express?

As some of you know, I have been steeped in homeopathy lately. My dear friend Susan Nemcek of Willow Farm Healing Arts is mentoring me in the art. I'm treating a couple of horses homeopathically. The good news is that this week they developed hoof abscesses. This follows Herring's Law in homeopathy that says a cure is forthcoming when the disease moves down and out of the body and into the Earth. Besides my work with them, the horses are also treated by an allopathic veterinarian. I am a huge proponent of veterinary advice and would always steer folks that direction. The vet put the horses on antibiotics. Being a novice in treatment of hoof abscesses I'm glad that the vet saw a clear course of action and that the horses are receiving relief.

As a student of homeopathy my reaction is more reserved. This prescription drove my treatment to a screaming halt. Antibiotics suppress and homeopathic remedies express. Susan warned me that we cannot ask the body to do both at the same time and that I would have to wait to continue treatment once the course of antibiotics was complete.

So, while I'm waiting for the course of treatment to finish, I'm considering this metaphor in my life. In the past couple of weeks I have had some major buttons pushed in big ways by close friends. My initial reaction has been anger then rage. There is quite a bit of crossover in these relationships so I cannot express how I feel without jeopardizing other relationships. I've weighed my options, chosen to suppress my anger, and worked on finding center during the process.

The path to spiritual enlightenment is typically pitched as one of true expression in the world. This dogma is so much so that I've realized how much guilt comes along with choosing not to express. The more days that pass without expressing the more I realize how entrenched I am in this belief system. If expression is enlightenment, then suppression must be denial. In many circles, denial is the root of all things ugly in the world. What, then, is the ugly in me?

Mercury retrograde, which we have been in lately, is commonly viewed as a time to delve into our own darkness and face our demons. This time around, I have been given the opportunity to examine my belief system surrounding my own darkness. Rather than wrestle with my own shadow I've been invited to rest in under the shade tree and accept that the sun still shines. This, it turns out, is much harder than I thought... (continued in "The Art of Being Angry")

The Art of Being Angry

We as a culture despise anger. We put anger in a very tight box. Clearly war and murder are unhealthy ways to express anger, but typically outward rage is only condoned when a logical case of righteous defense is made. When is emotion logical? When boundaries are crossed we give ourselves permission to act out of rage, but how far across others boundaries can we act without committing the same crime?

In sitting under the shade tree of anger we begin to ask interesting questions. When we do not allow ourselves immediate action and take a time out, we start to doubt. Am I suppressing who I am, who I have a right to be in the world? Will this suppression cause disease? Have I lost my way on the path to enlightenment? How can I feel shame for the beautiful self that is me?

This is the key, the beautiful self that is me. Anger is an emotion. Emotion is part of our human experience, our human experience that is beautiful, that is love. This is why the shade tree is such a curious metaphor. The tree has the power within it to fuel a raging fire, but only when we set a match to it. On a warm, summer day we love the coolness cast by the branches. The tree comforts and soothes us. Imagine that this could be the action of anger allowed. Imagine that when truly accepted for the unpolarized experience that it is, anger could be soothing.

I propose that it is not anger itself that causes so much discomfort, but the actions from it or the guilt from lack of action out of it. All in all, the disease comes when we see the anger as something ugly and cruel. We turn against our own nature by casting light where there should be shadow. By taking our turn under the shade tree we are allowed the time to look upon the lit world around us.

Anger serves the lovely purpose of casting us outside our experience for a time. We become so entrenched in its grasp that we are pulled outside of our daily lives. This allows us the chance to breathe, rest and look out at all the spectacular creation we've manifest in the world. So rather than fight it or fight out of it, let us drink in the cool, fresh air of the lesson that is anger.

Lost Wilderness of Being

There's a lot moving these days and the opportunity to shed projections and identities is abundant. The chance to move out of judgment and into our truth comes with what can be considered a high price tag. Just when we think we've let go of every pre-conception and belief that was important to us, the guard at the gate of our happiness ups the toll. In my own quest for joy and peace I came across the following stream of consciousness that has offered me comfort and contemplation:

Even though I did not know where I was going I still feel I have lost my way. I have lost my certainty of being me. There was no one to tell me I was long forgotten lost... forgot and lost the railway... imagination lays the tracks... tracks go one way. Steer the imagination and you are hopelessly lost.

Lost hope, lost will, lost self. In this state even the will of union seems too rigid. For in the end it's a concept along the tracks that lead one-way to nowhere. In releasing to the process the process becomes no more. First the process becomes God, then compartmentalized, then loved, then lost... lost and forgotten.

The age old adage of "why?" Well then, "why bother?" To be free of the shackles, shake loose of the locks. But, this is not a revolution of expression. The cage door is opened, the bars are extinguished, but the bird remains. "Why?" This is not living out of hope or hopelessness. It's just living in the lost wilderness of being.

Do They Speak English?

Being in the world of animal welfare as a shamanic practitioner I commonly get asked the question, "Can you talk to the horse and help him understand?"

From a shamanic point of view, the animals do not speak our language. Historically, it was the job of the shaman to learn how to speak the language of the land, the animals, the elements, and the ancestors. The shaman communed with these spirits and surrendered to their cosmic view, so she could work with them on behalf of her tribe. She learned how to communicate in metaphor and story, empathy and wonder.

Many superstitions did and still do surround the telling of the shamanic experience because shaman understood that in the telling the power may be lost. Some cultures forbid the unveiling of one's power animal while others believe that sharing the name of one's spirit guide can cause illness. Shaman often would act out their journeys for the whole tribe but refuse to narrate the same to anyone. The shaman was both leader and hermit. This traditional way of being must have weighed heavily on the healer, but carries some important lessons.

The spirit world is not polarized. There is no right or wrong, up or down, inside or out. It is all one. In contrast, our language is inherently polarized. Think of how many times a day you use the word "good". When I embark on a shamanic journey I am entering into a rich, multi-layered experience that is felt and loved. I put the experience into words as a way to remember so that I can revisit the learning over and over again for deeper levels of understanding. I do this knowing that even my own words read to myself change the experience. I am taking pure white light and shining it through a faceted crystal so that I may follow the rays of color back through the crystal and into the light.

Now, consider this process in relation to another living, breathing autonomous being. When I journey to them or for them I am in the spirit world. This allows me to empathize their experience with more clarity, but I am still a human connected in part to my experience of being human. Now if I take what I experience as them during the journey and translate it into human language I am twice removed from the actual form. I am twice removed from the truth that is that being's experience. And the being is twice removed from me.

From this standpoint, all that is being had is a hopelessly garbled conversation. Like a foreigner trying to order dinner I will first try to select a dish I think I would like from a menu I can't read. Then, with much difficulty, gesturing and mispronunciation I will ask the waiter to confirm that I have made a good choice. Not satisfied with his answer I will order it anyway. He has the chef make what he makes everyday and what arrives on my plate is no where near what I would have guessed.

The Healing That's Offered

The piece on "Do They Speak English?" leaves the reader with a new question: "If the shaman cannot help a horse understand what can they do?"

Domestic animals live in a world full of human agenda. Before the time of domestication, animals operated solely on their own will. Now we force them into trailers and kennels. We demand they be quiet when asked. We expect them to give solace and comfort to our tired souls. In all of this work, all of this submission, they can become weary and ill.

By nature, the shamanic practitioner works from a place of no personal agenda. To conduct healing, the shaman must surrender to and direct the spirits in equal parts. It's in the surrender that agenda must be shed. The direction given is not respected unless the agenda is released. Agenda is polarized and the spirit world is not. Mother Nature is not malicious or kind in her power. Her power just is. The spirits work in the same way.

There are many paths to healing. Each has it's own merit, but in shamanic work the path is tailored to the patient's truth. In this way, the animal is allowed the opportunity to regain their sense of self which is a healing on its own. The animal is treated as an autonomous being valued for who they are outside of their relationship with humans. The healing is offered to them to do with as they please. This may be the first time in their entire lives that they realize the opportunity to manifest their desires. Do they want to stay and support their human? Would they rather languish in disease? Will they stay disconnected? Are they up to the task before them?

Self realization is a powerful healing, but disperses in the first wind of the civilized world without some shoring up. This is where the next piece of the work comes into play. The shaman brings forth energy that until this point has been unavailable to the patient. Since domestic animals have so little control over their physical environment, pieces of their essence are easily lost. Their personal power is forfeited. The brilliant light of their will grows dim. The shaman seeks out this essence and brings it back into the sphere of the patient's conscious control. In this work, the desires of the animal may shift to reflect who they truly are at the core of their being.

There are as many benefits of shamanic healing for animals as stars in the sky, and what I've laid out here is the groundwork. I encourage you to explore the field further. This is our opportunity to offer back the unconditional love our furry friends are so courageously infamous for.

Questions "On Leadership"

1. What roles do my animal and myself play in our relationship together?
2. How have these roles shifted over time?
3. What role(s) would I like to work towards in my relationship with my animal?
4. How might our relationship change if I shifted into those roles?
5. How can I honor who my animal is in their life apart from our relationship?

On Leadership

I find it an interesting synchronicity that at this time in my life I find my perspective of leadership turned on its head. In the over 2 years I've known my mustang mare she has been the lead mare of her shifting herd of 15-18 mares. She has shouldered the role so gracefully that life in the pasture has been ordered but playfully choatic, friendly with a sound level of ownership. She rarely, if ever, exerts her power over the others and has been willing to let many a discretion slide. My mare is not a micro-manager or one to delegate tasks, she lets each horse fall into their natural role in the herd, and shares her time with each regardless of rank. She has continually demonstrated that leadership is not about brute force, shear power, or outright enchantment, all of which she has in excess, but about sound quiet confidence.

Now, in the last few months I've watched another, smaller but quicker, mustang throw the herd into a jumble and bully my mare out of her position. I've realized how desperately I've clung to Cherokee's identity as a leader, and I've had to go through my own path of transformation to reframe our relationship.

Relationships are tricky, especially those we have with our animals. So frequently I see that an animal's illness, spiritual, emotional, mental or physical, is strongly tied to the human's circumstances. We regularly project our own stuff onto our furry friends. We commonly ask them to excuse our faults. We pursue a mirror of our strengths. This is the natural order of things. To be in relationship is to connect and share our energy, love, and life.

The problem arises when the bond we share becomes static. This stunts the growth and transformation that is primary to every living being's path. When this happens with the humans in our lives we begin to either voice or hear a good deal of grumbling which, when not heeded, turns to outright defiance and the severing of ties. Our furry companions cannot explain to us what the problem is with language, so we start to see other symptoms. Misbehavior and noncompliance are the first signs. Physical illness or violence are the last stage.

In the case of my mare and myself, I saw immediately that the shift in her role and my strong reaction to it required a big adjustment. I could have chosen to wallow in pity and spend my hours wishing for her to regain face. Instead, I saw an opportunity. Here was my chance to direct all her freed time and energy into our work together. Since she didn't have a herd to watch over all day, I could provide Cherokee with more play sessions to ponder and I could visit at odd times. The weather this winter has been awefully cold, but I bundled up and went out. She met me in the middle by adjusting to the strange environment of the indoor arena. We've had some absolutely outstanding days together and now more than ever we look forward to making contact in a new way.

Many times I've pursued a position of leadership in my herd of two, but never would I have wanted Cherokee to have to give up her own. I still don't know for certain that she had to relinquish her role in her herd to accept me as her leader, but something tells me that the opportunity arose for her and she took it. Maybe she's thinking the same of me?

Degrees of Frozen

It seems just such a short time ago I was carrying on about noonday sun and flower petals. Enough time has passed somehow that all the vegetables have been put up and all the tinctures are brewed and bottled. The snow has come early and blessed the Earth with its quiet breath. So why has my life been caught up in the whirlwind when the air outside is so still and crisp? When my activity level does not mirror the seasons, appearances show that I am living out of harmony, but is this so?

Somehow, some way I don't feel in discord. Disoriented maybe, but discordant no. There are these heavenly moments in the day when everything stands still, when the truth comes from my lips, and my heart is open wide. The subject of the conversation doesn't matter. It doesn't matter who I'm speaking with or who I'm speaking of. As I dash from one task to the next all the details spin together like colored paint in a blender. There is no time in this melee to ask who I am or who I would like to be, there is just doing. I don't even remember breathing once today, but here I am still moving through the world, enacting change.

Many spiritual masters teach stillness and observation as the keys to enlightenment. Most of us envision harmony with winter as a quiet, peaceful turning in. But, how many other manifestations of winter have we explored? We make assumptions and form static definitions of what each season is. Nature does not conform to such Platonic ideals.

An observation comes to mind that Sandra Ingerman expressed during the Medicine for the Earth class I took last month. She told us that when she merged with the Earth during winter she expected to find everything still and quiet. In contrast, she experienced a moving, shifting Earth, one very much alive and in motion. The concept of being "frozen" is relative. Absolute zero is hundreds of degrees below our current winter temps. That is how far we are from absolute stillness, hundreds of degrees.

My current degree of motion and activity may seem like madness to some. To a restless hummingbird that's just traveled across the Gulf of Mexico, I am resting. It's all a matter of degree and what experience of this season we choose to have. Somewhere along the way I choose this experience. Bewildered? Me too.

But, then I stop to consider. This winter has not been that still. We've had plentiful snowstorms that flood the warm ground, turn it to ice, then melt it to mud baths the next day. Winter is busy remaking the landscape with furious vigor and it seems, so am I.

Questions on "In the Flow"

Here are some journey question ideas in regards to the article "In the Flow"... Remember to be kind and gentle with yourself in this inquiry. There is no judgement, no right or wrong... just your invaluable experience ...

1. Can I recognize when others are in the flow of creation?
2. What does it feel like to observe and how is it when I experience it myself?
3. If I recognize this movement in the world, when was my most recent experience of it?
4. If I can't observe or experience this, what are the blocks to me doing so?
5. What is my definition of "In the Flow"? How does it taste, feel, look, sound, etc.? 

In the Flow

What an interesting phrase: "In the Flow." These days it is used to explain some great psychedelic high in a movie cast with characters doped up and checked out. Or you'll find it in reference to an especially loquacious portion of a rap song. But, I'll give the credit for its current meaning in my life to my friend who owns a mineral shop in Kauai. She used it in conversation the other day saying about a person she'd introduced me to that "they're in the same flow we are."

I spent my last weekend with my friend at the Denver Gem and Mineral show wandering at her side as she purchased inventory for her store. As usual, the experience of being surrounded by so many amazing specimens from the Earth was shear joy, but this time I had a window into the show that, at the risk of sounding cliche, changed my life.

There was the meteroite guy from South Africa who, after inviting us to sit behind his tables to sort through red sugilite, pointed out a stunning piece of flourite sitting on the floor. He pulled a magazine up that had been propped open against the same piece and showed us the photo of the stone. "What better place for a museum quality flourite than the floor?" we chuckled. There was the couple who had quartz clusters bigger than a riding lawnmower and amethyst geodes that wouldn't fit through the door of my house. We shared potato chips over citrine spheres. There was the opal dealer from Oregon who shared stories about his increasingly rebellious son with a warm smile on his face, or, on second thought, was it the glow coming from the opals?

Here were these vendors sitting on tens of thousands of dollars worth of inventory during hard economic times. Sure we met the cranky ones who had worry lines etched in their face, and we were grateful for the good deals they offered and quality stones they carried, but it was the glowing people we spent hours with. The light through the minerals sparkled in their eyes. They were constantly moving the lamps in their booths to show us the color in the stones. They were absolutely high and in love.

My friend and I debated as to if these stones could be considered a "luxury item" or not. I felt so because if I were living off the land I would live well, but not have access to aquamarine from Nepal. She disagreed because even when she was a poor student she spent her money on stones. They offer as much sustenance to her as the tomatoes in my garden do to me. Point well taken.

Regardless of if the minerals are a necessity or not, there is a fabulous culture surrounding them. All these people loving what they do, allowing precious stones and money to flow in and out of their lives like a fresh breeze, traveling the globe either literally or through contact with the stones, and living well while they do it. It was truly infectious. Maybe I'll quit my day job and hit the road?

Message on "Into Summer..."

Before I completely lose the sensation of summer, I wanted to honor a message I received recently from a young hawk. One afternoon I was out orienting a new volunteer at the horse rescue when I was approached by another volunteer. "Hey bird lady, there's a hawk with a broken wing out in the east pasture. Can you go check it out?"

So, new volunteer in tow, I rounded up a pair of gloves, a towel and a rubbermaid tub. We traipsed all the way out there, through the weeds, and along the fence lines. No hawk. I must admit, I was relieved. It is a paradox to receive a message from the spirit world carried on the back of a suffering animal. I feel humbled in the gift and smacked with my ignorance, not to mention the heartache of my empathy for the animal. Somehow I always wonder, "did I not hear the message the first time?"

I figured, wrongly, that the hawk had wandered onto the neighbor's property to die in peace in the brush. The next morning I was approached again, "Hey bird lady..."

I drove out into the pasture in the golf cart with a pair of adult red-tails swirling and screaming overhead. There was the small beast standing stoic in the shade of the horse shelter. He had no fight left and the terrible stench of rotting flesh about him. His right wing was fractured. The dead, black bone stuck out an inch. A marble-sized colony of maggots had laid waste to the wound.

Immature red-tail feathers. I know them so well. An old friend of mine was in that plummage for most of the year we spent together. My dear Graccia often had that same determined look in her eye. There was no taking her off course.

"Just give up the ghost," I said to the injured hawk as it stood in the box staring at me. There was no flesh left on his body. All the energy he had remaining was put to standing there, staring at me.

He died later that afternoon and my husband buried him under the old cottonwood.

So... the message? The active principle (right side wing) was broken, long dead, in my life. The effort that I had put forth into the world (the pair of hawks fledging a young hawk) had failed at its moment of glory. I had been stubbornly sitting on this failure too long (rotting wound). Put in plain terms, my inability to live in the season of summer, live in the fruition of my dreams, had become a systemic problem that had grounded me for way too long and that threatened to destroy my entire way of life. 

Sounds dramatic, I know, but, wow, this hawk gave his life. We often hope for angels, miracles, and beams of light from heaven. We think divine messages come on wings, and, guess what? They actually do.

Follow-up: "Into Summer..."

In response to "Into Summer... Imagine Winter?" you may choose to journey and/or journal on the following questions:

1. What season am I least familiar with?
2. What has kept me from partaking fully in this season?
3. When have I most appreciated this time of year?
4. Am I prepared to seize the next opportunity I have to partake?
5. How will I know I've fully immersed myself in the time?

Into Summer... Imagine Winter?

Given the lovely promptings of a dear friend I made it a goal of mine this season to partake in summer. For perhaps the first time in my life I decided to fuel summer experiences with my own imagination.

As a single child, a part of a two-home family I spent a lot of hours indoors waiting for my mom or dad to make it home from work. My eleventh summer I was trapped indoors in a full body cast. We titled the cast and the experience the "summer bummer". So, needless to say I have a tad of seasonal agoraphobia. While everyone else is out loving the sun and abundance, I'm often inside searching for the motivation to leave the dark cave of a cool house.

Part of it was cellular memory. I just didn't have it. I had learned how to enjoy the summer on camping trips and vacations, but I didn't have the countless days of hours on end playing at who knows what outside. There were few other kids to play with and even fewer to romp careless with me around the relatively sterile suburban neighborhood I grew up in.

Given that most outdoor excursions I had in my youth required some sort of reason, as an adult I was left without one. Who was I going out to play with? Where were we going? What time would we be back? What was I going to do?

During my years as a field biologist all of these questions were taken care of for me. I got to play on the beach and in the woods as part of some extrinsic scientific plan. I was in heaven and didn't realize that this lack of responsibility was a large part of it.

As my profession changed in favor of a steady income, my reason to go outside was no longer outside myself. I had to generate it from within and found it a troublesome chore. It was a heavy weight I couldn't shake.

So, this summer I just kept going out against the doubt, the resentment, the apathy, and a lovely transformation came about. I stopped worrying who would entertain me. I quit fussing over the finish line because the weeding is never done. I found the sun flooded all hours of the day and took up with whatever small task caught my fancy.

I picked bouquets of flowers to decorate our table, lulled around with my mare in the noonday heat, found solace in the morning shade on our garden, picked bowl after bowl of lobelia and chamomile, and watched colorful new bugs come to visit our plants.

For the first time in my life I've gotten so caught up in summer that I've absolutely forgotten what winter is like. What a strong lesson about being in the moment. May the children of today trapped in video games, cable TV, and air conditioning find it sooner than myself. May those of us that have lost the memory find it again.

In Gratitude, Stacey