Healing

Mother Moon Supermoon

Posted by on Jan 1, 2018 in Empowerment, Healing, Nature, Psychology, Spirituality | 1 comment

Mother Moon is drifting high Silent in the starry sky Feel the shadow of her eye Moon is on the rise. — Mother Moon chant* The full moon tonight is called a supermoon. Evidently, there will be two of them in this first month of our very new year. It’s heartening because it feels like the heralding of a turn for the better. 2017 has been tough for a lot of us and we could use some relief from the chaos and destructiveness of our world. Mother Moon’s power is subtle yet strong. It’s beautiful. She lights the night sky like a giant lamp, pulls on the oceans to create tides, and calls to us to awaken to ourselves. She influences the healthy growth of plants according to many gardeners. I have a personal relationship with the moon. I love her and look to her to help me through difficult times. She reassures me and reminds me that everything will be alright and to stay present with the way things are. She sits up there in the heavens looking beautiful and wise, and sometimes that’s enough. Many of my interactions with her have been spontaneous and surprising. They are always uplifting and empowering. There was the day I was feeling sorry for myself and feeling like no one understood where I was coming from no matter how much I explained myself. I strolled along feeling a little sad and lonely. It was morning in the wilderness a number of years ago, and the moon was on her way to setting in the day bright sky. It can be a little startling to see the moon in daylight, and I hadn’t realized she was there. I  just happened to glance upwards. Moon shrugged her lunar shoulders and communicated gently and matter of factly. “I’m the only moon,” she said, “and it’s okay.” Oh. My God. Thank you, I responded, breathlessly. Thank you so much. So obviously right on. I certainly wouldn’t dream of wanting the moon to be different from the way she is. I adore her uniqueness, so perhaps I could appreciate my own as well. No reason to feel bad because you’re the only one like you. In other words, it’s okay to be just me and not necessarily understood by anyone else. My loneliness and sadness faded. Mother Moon’s message to me that morning was visceral. It bypassed my mind and went straight to my heart. It instilled the kind of knowing that resides in the tissues of the body and floats along in a sea of humility. It feels so true and right that all you can do is relax into the truth of it. There’s nothing intellectual about it and so it requires hardly any thinking. It is experienced as a gift. Tonight we will be treated to a full moon, a supermoon. May you be graced by the power and promise of Mother Moon. I wish you good tidings and a Happy New Year full of love and peace. *an arrangement of my Mother Moon chant was recorded by Sound Circle and can be purchased here....

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The Love That Binds

Posted by on Jan 2, 2017 in Empowerment, Healing, History, Politics | 2 comments

  If We Die You shall know, my sons, shall know why we leave the song unsung, the book unread, the work undone to rest beneath the sod. Mourn no more, my sons, no more why the lies and smears were framed, the tears we shed, the hurt we bore to all shall be proclaimed. Earth shall smile, my sons, shall smile and green above our resting place, the killing end, the world rejoice in brotherhood and peace. Work and build, my sons, and build a monument to love and joy, to humor, worth, to faith we kept for you, my sons, for you.   —Ethel Rosenberg Ossining, N.Y January 24, 1953 I was eight and a half years old when Julius and Ethel Rosenberg were executed by the U.S. government on June 19, 1953. I remember being at a hootenanny fundraiser sometime around that time. The visual memory is shrouded, but my emotional memory is clear, almost too clear. It was the moment my child consciousness took in that Michael and Robert, the two young Rosenberg sons had become orphans (adopted later by the Meeropol family), and that everyone in the room that day was living through a terrifying time. I felt shockingly sadder in my young self than I’d ever felt before or knew was possible. I got an email the other day from Jennifer Meeropol, granddaughter of Ethel Rosenberg, for the Rosenberg Fund for Children. She asked for support for her father and uncle who are petitioning President Obama to exonerate their mother. I froze, couldn’t move, and couldn’t sign the petition. The sadness and horror, now over sixty years old rose up to block me. I felt incapacitated and unsafe, and too scared to put my name on their appeal to Obama. I did sign a couple of days later, the delay no doubt caused by the nauseating undercurrent of threat that we’re living with now that triggered my traumatic reaction. More and more, the current times seem to parallel the anti-communist hysteria of the nineteen fifties, albeit with different personnel, formats and prejudices. The thugs and bullies coming into power seem a lot like the ones from prior days, as does the mean-spiritedness. It’s discouraging to say the least, but it’s also a wake up call. How am I going to be in these new times? What can I do that will help to turn the tide in the direction of peace? I don’t have money to give, so my actions, which include signing all kinds of petitions, have to be more creative. I want to make myself available more than ever to help build “a monument to love and joy,” as Ethel Rosenberg so exquisitely and poignantly put it. I will do everything I can to strengthen and fortify my heart so that I can withstand whatever is in store for us. I pledge now to spend the rest of my life in this service, and to do it with the love that binds me to this...

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Sadness Has Its Place

Posted by on Dec 12, 2016 in Empowerment, Healing, Politics, Psychology | 10 comments

There can be no deep disappointment where there is not deep love.” — Martin Luther King, Jr. I read Leonard Pitts Jr. this morning, which I do whenever the Daily Camera reprints his column. I’m usually inspired by his beautifully crafted essays, and this one was no exception. But… it is incredibly and powerfully sad. Synchronistically, what he wrote matched my mood, particularly the feeling of overwhelm about how much not good stuff is happening in this country. How really is it that the white cop who shot the black man in the back eight times was not convicted? I find daunting the prospect of having to be more activist than I’m prepared to be. Are we really going to have Trump for president? People are writing to the electors who are set to meet in a week to decide our fate as a nation. Can I do it? Do I have the stamina to write all those letters? Is signing all the petitions I’m signing doing any good? Can I find the strength to be active and effective while burdened by a pervasive fog of sadness about the world situation? I don’t know. I really don’t. Part of me wants to escape and stay hidden in the hillsides of my beautiful Boulder. However, the old but still young activist in me wants to get going and do the right thing, start moving mountains like we did in the sixties. Get loud and proud and relentless. Channel righteousness into social change. Stand for good. Etc. etc. and like that. I have to honor the sadness first. That’s the only way I’ll be able to do anything. I’ve learned over this longish lifetime that emotions rule. I ignore them at my peril. They are the electrical signals that eventually show me the correct action to take, and the correct timing. If I’m deeply sad, which I am, I need to inquire within, ask myself what is going on and listen carefully to the answers I’m getting from inside. If I’m tired like Pitts, and I definitely am, I need to face into that and look for ways to contribute that don’t endanger my own wellbeing. I need to remind myself that it’s okay to be tired. It’s okay to be sad. I do have every confidence that we will get through this dark period. Why? Because I have lived through numerous dark periods before, and because no matter what’s happening, life keeps going. I’m learning to accept what I have been taught, namely that whatever happens happens. Understanding this deceptively simple phrase includes knowing that I can’t know most of what’s going on most of the time, and that being too attached to what I think is going on is always unhelpful. I need to cultivate discernment. I’m not going to find my way in these strange times by being judgmental. Love is the basis for the deep disappointment and sadness I feel, just like the quotation from MLK says. I thank Leonard Pitts for putting it at the top of his column. When I sit with my sad feelings, breathe and wait, maybe sing and write, what always shows up is the deep love I feel for the world and for people, the earth and all living beings. I look to that love to show me the...

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The Quest Work

Posted by on Aug 16, 2015 in Healing, Nature | 2 comments

Open to the Spirit… open to your heart… take time to listen… take time to be in the Heart of the Mother… “Joyful medicine.” That’s what I said to a friend who asked me how the Day Quest went yesterday. Joyful medicine is the essence of what I call “the Quest work.“ I go to the mountains to seek solitude, rest, and renewal. I consult with the land about life’s conundrums and difficulties. I have done this for thirty years, ever since my first vision quest with David LaChapelle. During the summer months, I escort others to do the same. We sit in circles on the ground. We sing. We sit quietly. We pray. We engage in reflective exchanges called mirroring. We sit in the lap of the Earth Mother and come back to our true nature. The painful splits in our being are given a chance to heal. You can talk to the trees, I say to my people. You can ask them to help you. You can welcome the more than human life forms into the circle of your heart. If you walk and sit quietly without thinking, you become open to the love and communication that is always present in and amongst the hillsides. If you listen patiently, you can receive the bounty that is available there. It feels like magic, but really it isn’t. It’s reality. The gifts that flower from this practice enrich the lives of the participants. They also hold the promise of a better, more peaceful world, as the people bring back stronger, clearer versions of themselves and apply themselves to what life is asking of them. My Quest season is almost over for this year. It will renew itself next summer as long as I am still blessed with good health and there are people who heed the call to come home to the Heart of the Mother. A bow of gratitude to...

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Abortion Isn’t Really About Abortion – Part 1

Posted by on May 22, 2013 in About the Book, Empowerment, Healing, Politics | 0 comments

Abortion is a collection of some of the most difficult issues related to human growth and development.  —Life Choices Abortion isn’t really or only about abortion. It’s about women’s power in life, and learning to take conscious responsibility for life on earth. For most women, there’s nothing wrong and everything right about having an abortion. So, what’s the source of the idea that abortion is terrible and a problem? For complete answers, you’ll have to read my book! But meanwhile, consider doing the following: 1. Speak freely about abortion. Cut through the shame and stigma in any way you can. 2. Support your friends, neighbors, and colleagues to speak out and include abortion in the normal course of daily conversations. 3. Be a good listener if there is someone in your life who is upset about abortion. It’s natural and normal to have feelings. 4. Don’t play into the false division between “pro-choice” and “pro-life.” No one is against life. The slogans serve to perpetuate nasty power conflicts that have their root in narrow, unthought-through attitudes about sex and life. 5. Rise above the hysteria that blankets the news about abortion. Don’t play into the over-sensationalizing that goes on in the U.S. Large numbers of women have had or will have abortions in their lifetime. There’s nothing wrong with it. It’s normal. 6. Support local health organizations that provide abortions. Let them know you support them by writing or calling them. Volunteer with them if you can. Send them flowers. Let them know you’re grateful they’re there, especially if you live in an area where clinics and doctors are being harassed. They are: the FAN clinics (Feminist Abortion Network). the members of ACN (Abortion Care Network). the members of NAF (National Abortion Federation). Stay tuned for Part 2 in my next blog post. Happy Spring, everyone!...

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Writing for My Life

Posted by on Feb 15, 2013 in Healing, Psychology, Spirituality | 4 comments

I’ve decided to be kinder to myself when I feel sad I’ve decided to be grateful for all I ever had… This morning I woke up in a foul mood. It wasn’t unfamiliar, nor was it strange. It was all too common, and it demanded my attention. I stepped out of bed and into an abyss of negativity. Oh no, not this, my poor mind sighed. Here we go again. Time to sit down with pen and paper and transfer the inner waves into words.  I didn’t want to sacrifice the day to feeling bad. Okay, yes, here we go. Light candles in front of photos, one of my beloved David, the other of the great guru Sri Mata Amritanandamayi Devi. Curl into the cushioned armchair that readily holds me at times like this. Big breath in; drop into full body presence, the relaxation necessary to allow information to rise and release into cognition. Hands come together in prayer pose; involuntarily, thank God. I am so in need of spiritual spontaneity when I feel this way. Letters begin to form on the page, gliding into place from the movement of thought and feeling. Apparently, an old pattern of nastyness towards the self has emerged from its den to make an appearance. It’s the one where I characterize myself as inferior to anyone who has accomplished something good creatively. Other writers, singers, creators of any kind. All are better than me. Their success is my failure. I will never be as good as they are, never enough, no matter what I do or how I am. Instant recognition. This is gnarly and unattractive to say the least, dangerous at worst. A blueprint for creative inertia. Mild alarm that it has shown up again, and along with that, more clarity that it is vital to sit with it. I let myself record every small-minded thought or idea that comes. I write and write. Finally, I’m done with the mean-spiritedness. No more nasty words or embarrassing revelations. I’ve purged it all onto the page. I’m feeling calmer and kinder towards myself. A sweetness makes its appearance. I breathe it in, eyes closed, tilting my face towards the ceiling and through it to the sky. Everything seems gentler. I can be with all that arises, and let all be as it is, at least for now. If you’ve not used personal writing to support you during difficult periods, I highly recommend it. Whether you are facing something frightening or trying to understand something about your life, writing provides a powerful entry into the truth of being. It puts you in the moment, which allows the next moment to unfold with more ease. It can make a huge difference in your life. The quote at the top is from the song Kinder by Copper...

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