more water

We didn't get to Baltimore after all. Halfway down the highway, the storm that we were following got markedly worse. The turnoff to the next highway was deep in traffic. The weather report indicated that another storm was hovering over Baltimore. We turned around.

Through water, and clearing skies, we drove down beside the Potomac to Alexandria. Found great parking and walked down to the harbor. The whole family exhaled, and paused, and we stood at the wooden railing, gazing at the slips and the water.

Shimmering under cloudy skies, the Potomac made patterns, fractals, paralellograms. The white hulls drew long wavy lines on the darkness. It was so beautiful, and as DH said, ancient. The Potomac has been here long before humans came, and will be here after us. Soothing, and, yes, grounding. DD said she felt solidly in her body. I took a deep, deep breath of damp air, and agreed.

Dinner was crab, and oysters, and local beer, and local rootbeer.

The drive home was quiet. More rain.



Even if you can't get to the Bay, or the ocean, there's water: river water, stream water, lake water.

108 posts!

As Buddhist followers of this blog know, 108 is a sacred number. Now if only I could remember why....


The turn of the Moon was helpful, but not enough. I've had a migraine and I'm still fighting the fershlugginer whatsits that has me coughing up a storm.

Something really good happened, though: the oracular voice has returned. I've seen myself in some fairly-certain future situations. I've also had some initimations that I should start opening this up again to others. I'll be studying, starting next week, a compendium of oracular shamanic teachings. I'm very excited to be doing that. It is my Work.

Be well, my dears.

A good long sleep

..with fascinating dreams. An errand or two (including the Library, oh joy! the two books I had on hold had come in! Why do I have to do anything this weekend other than read?!). Quiet, but not enough.

Today feels like it's hanging fire. A between day. Not so bad, but communication with DH & DD sucks the big one. Scrapping, arguing: no fun at all.

Man, I can't wait until this Moon turns. My crown chakra is wide open and it feels like a large heaviness is passing through. Like a huge spacecraft that goes on forever; or a very low, dark cloud. A mountain is sitting on my head. No pain, but just really really dense and heavy.

this weekend

....I'm going to a play, probably a movie, and maybe to Baltimore.

We're planning our summer, and we may go back to New York City, as well as the beach. I need both the city and the ocean this year.


Today wasn't so bad, at least for me. Though machines did still go spla, and there were short
tempers.

Nothing much, really, to report.

the energy now, and an apology

Right now we're in the final stretches of Mercury retrograde, and this moon is winding down. New Moon is Sunday at 7:11am. Friday and Saturday may be really bumpy; restrain your tempers, if you can, and try to keep calm. Or pretend to be calm, and seethe alone. The darkness may seem overwhelming, especially on Saturday. You do know that the painful cliche about when it's always darkest has it's root in the truth: the light does return. Mercury goes direct on Sunday May 31st. The shadow period extending afterwards can be difficult, too.

Just a bundle of joy tonight, eh? I think it's better to be forewarned, so you can plan accordingly. Machines will still go spla when it's least convenient; plans will be screwed up; messages delayed or misplaced. It's just part of the cosmic flow. Ride these bumpy waves; deal with the nausea. Things will be better. They always, always are.


And I apologize for dropping out of sight. Sick Monday; sicker Tuesday (spent the day in bed, miserable). Still sick until just tonight. I'll be draggy for a few days, but I'll be fine.

Be well, my dears, and I'll be back tomorrow.

Sick, again

..a bad cold. And I have to try to get some rest since next week promises to be another tough one.

Got stuff to do today. Just housework stuff. So I hope to be back to regular posting in a few days.

the nature of my work

...is changing. Again.

I'll be studying a deep shamanic practice of Becoming the Oracle starting in late May or early June. It's my desire to bring through deep information that can be helpful to those around me, those who contact me, and those who read this blog. I'm already capable of doing this; what I expect from this study is a deepening, and a solidifying of my connection to the shamanic realm.

The medical intuition piece has fallen by the wayside. Although I still have the gift for cancer, it's more immediate and less about the shadow of possibility. At this moment, I'm not able to see or feel inside the body with the specificity that I used to have. I can still sense things about a person's general health, and what their challenges are.

Reading the future is starting to come through. But, unlike other psychics, I don't predict; rather, I can point to trends or possibilities. I think we all have destiny points, things that are pre-determined in our lives; I'm most interested in how we get from one to the other.






And yes, Chanel, I will be posting soon about Lance and Eddie. I promise.

Sorry I dropped the ball there, folks

but I did make it to 37 posts.

Things are such a whirl right now I can hardly focus. No Deep Thoughts, or shallow ones, tonight; instead, a promise to myself: I'm continuing daily posting. It's good for me.


Be well, dear ones, and I'll see you tomorrow.

Dim

..but not as dark. Steering by starlight, more like. Still a lot of darkness, but not as dense. Am I making sense?

And this is my 100th post. Continuing, putting one foot in front of the other. I keep moving.

Darkness

It's awfully dark, here at the bottom of this hole. I trust in the light, and if I look up, there are stars up there. They seem far away, and dim.

I can preach about the light, and riding the waves, and suchlike. But it's hard for me now to have faith in these things, even though I know, somewhere in my soul, that these are only a series of dark moments. And I have so many fewer of them than I used to.

just briefly

Star Trek movie is close to perfection. Best review, and most accurate, that I've read so far (and the most amusing) at washingtonpost.com.

I've got a knot in my personal/work life that I'm unknotting. Nothing I can really talk about.


So I bid you all goodnight; and hope that you sleep well, and awake refreshed, ready for the week.

today

I'm cleaning, weeding, and visiting a friend in the hospital. Then back home, more weeding, and The Movie.

A somewhat domestic, somewhat normal day. Visiting people in the hospital seems to be what I do in this life.

Either I'll post again tonight, after the movie; or tomorrow.

Please, enjoy your lives right now. Things can turn on a dime. The rug can be pulled out from under you. (Insert your favorite metaphor for sudden change here.)

sending many hugs to you, my followers and my occasional readers. Be well.

Weekend!

I'm seeing the Star Trek movie tomorrow!! I've been a fan for a long time. It was the fact that I was a serious ST fan that caused my then-friend Bob to take me seriously as a possible romantic prospect. (Married to Bob 18years, been together 20.) Our daughter is also a fan. I CAN'T WAIT.

So tonight no Pronouncements; no ocean metaphors; no Deep Thoughts. Just a wave from this happy fan, and a promise: I'm around, these days, more often than not.

Just not tomorrow night at 7pm. I expect to squeal.

:D

waves, etc.

Turns out, the wave was a big one. My family's in the middle of one of those death-and-cancer storms so familiar to those of us in middle age. Blessedly, it's none of the immediate family. But the wave still feels overwhelming; a sudden metastasis of an undiscovered cancer is still awful. Sudden death in the backyard is still a gutpunch. Horrible, horrible.





So pray, my dears. See to your own back gardens. Cultivate your health and your soul; most especially, cultivate your relationships. Those that you love, and that love you, bring deep joy (even when they're aggravating, because they won't do what you tell them!). Let yourself be awake to where you really are. Cut your losses and move on, if that's what you want to do. Listen to your soul, your deepest self; your own individual truth lives right there, right in the center.



Though I do perceive that we live over and over, this present reality is

analogy as a descriptor of internal reality....

I'm on my surfboard, it's evening, almost dark. No waves tonight. Then, damn, the ocean is moving. I'm bobbing up and down; it's getting really dark. And damn, that waves looks.......big.

that quote

from Pema Chodron:


Things falling apart is a kind of testing and also a kind of healing. We think that the point is to pass the test or to overcome the problem, but the truth is that things don't really get solved. They come together and they fall apart. Then they come together and they fall apart again. It's just like that. The healing comes from letting there be room for all of this to happen: room for grief, for relief, for misery, for joy. *


Sit with this awhile. Notice the spaciousness that comes from just sitting with the idea that things come together, and fall apart, and come back together again. No end, just waves, in and out. Infinite waves, each unique, each a part of the pattern.



*from When Things Fall Apart: Heart Advice for Difficult Times.

Miscellanea: procedure update, some Thoughts

Procedure update: the email address at left is designed for you to start a private conversation with me on any of the topics raised here (or one of your own). It's also to set up appointments for readings. I'm available some evenings and Saturdays after 12noon EST (I like to sleep late). I check my email daily. If you want to start a public discussion, post a comment.

I've been looking for an hour for the exact quote from Buddhist teacher Pema Chodron about expansion and contraction, about how we're all right where we are. I can't find it. I'll keep looking and post it as soon as I can.


In the meantime: we are all brilliant and beautiful, right where we are. Our hearts are clear and full of light; tender to ourselves, tender to others. What we have to do to realize this is get out of our own way. Drop our stories, and allow ourselves to be right where we are. Beautiful, brilliant, and tender.

Tougher than it sounds, I know. But a valiant effort is worth a lot.

Consolation.....

What is the name of that Pearl Jam song.....? DH is playing through Ten to find it for me..but it's not from Ten.*

There's consolation for you: in those early notes, very Hendrix yet respectful, not a slavish imitation but a tribute; and in the space that are between the notes, where you can breathe, and let the tears slip down. If you're in a happy or peaceful place, it supports you; if you need to cry, there it is, support for tears. Who cares about the lyrics, in this one? The beginning and the end are a frame; consolation, too, can create a frame for difficult emotions.

I don't want to make grand pronouncements about Art tonight, and the role it has in grief. (Though clearly those are coming, eh?) I just want to offer what consolation I can, in this ragged and difficult world, to those who are grieving. Loss never ends. Neither does joy.

Pema Chodron puts it well (I'll quote her tomorrow): things come together, and fall apart. That's the way it is. Waves go up and down. The tide comes in and out. An endless circle? No, more like a spiral....


Listen to the guitar. Listen to Vedder mumbling. Listen to the drums provide structure. Then the guitar, alone, again.

Listen to your breath.












*(The song is Yellow Ledbetter from Lost Dogs. Thanks to iTunes.)

Quiet...

very, very quiet. Quite quiet (sorry).

I usually have something to say. Tonight, I gots nuthin'.

Reading in Buddhism again.......



be well, and I'll see you after my Early Morning Adventure tomorrow.

"Rachel Getting Married"

Tonight DH and I watched Rachel Getting Married, a Jonathan Demme film, with Anne Hathaway in the lead role (not Rachel). Truly that rare thing, an artistic movie; about family, dysfunction, fear, with a wee drop of hope at the end. Full of music -- the last 20 minutes have few lines of dialog. And what music! Robyn Hitchcock, a Brasilian Carneval troop, a small band with guitar, violin, conga drum and mandolin (a gorgeous, melancholy sound), jazz, Sister Carol East doing reggae/dub/dancehall, oh man. Even a 15-year-old budding rock guitarist with his friend on drums, doing a Hendrix-inspired, slow Wedding March. The cast! Bill Irwin, Anna Deveare Smith, all sorts of folks with deep backstories. And Fab Five Freddie. I sigh happily.

If you haven't seen it, please do. Somewhat challenging, beautifully filmed, and full of music. I loved this movie.


We return you tomorrow to your regularly scheduled mystical musings.