Morning Inventory

I woke this morning. There appear to be more things wishing to have my attentions, some of which–of course, I do not feel like obliging. However, things do seem to be progressing in what I term to be an orderly fashion. I think an orderly fashion means that I can manage without being overloaded. I’m making breakfast, trying oatmeal, chopped dates, coconut, and some pumpkin seeds.

I decided to use the quiet to take my inventory and my place. Today, this did not occur in a beating myself up manner! Actually, I clicked on my blogroll to one of my friend Kathy Drue’s blogs. She utilized this blog–Opening the Door and Walking Outside, as a one year commitment. Last year, at some point it became my ritual or habit to revisit the blog daily. I think that I stopped a bit soon this year. There are parts of one year and then another year, at such places I may have become confused about which I have visited and which that I had not. So, this morning I thought I’d go over and see which ones I may have missed. I might have to choose to do the entire year over again, just to be sure 😀

“I cannot seem to locate human satisfactory words to unlock what I think and what I feel and what comes to all of my senses when I walk the Earth. I wish I could locate a way to express it and to share it with others. I’d like to offer them the joy that I know and that seems so unfamiliar to them. The best over all word I can locate is being able to find enchantment. I have faith that I shall be able to share it or express it adequately when and if i need to do so with each person that comes along(ok so maybe I just say that or not–it seems to work out that way in the end). I would not be grounded nor sane with life on life’s terms had I not the implied challenge that I accepted to do this daily thing with you. I appreciate you beyond anything I could say with simple words.”–Elisa, Comment from The Honeymoon is Over, January 1, 2009.

The first thing, upon which I chose to reflect (ok fine it popped into my head unruly and unbidden) was, Wow! Look who I am when I am grounded and taking care of myself. Next part of me muttered about yeah and look at the mess now–you didn’t even feed the body a decent breakfast. I’m very glad for this thought because it got me the most excellent oatmeal! It also reminded me that back then I could do as I wished, and I wished to be careful of me. It made every day amazing, no matter life on life’s terms. Sometimes this making took effort and desire. I think that I have forgotten this, or have stopped responding to the nudge to partake. Part of me is wishing to berate. Another part is pointing out the Winter at The Tree Place Solstice Series and the magic that came to me from it, when I wasn’t looking, when I was only acting as if, going through the motions.

The last thing, which was the first gleaming spark of joy to my inner flame, if I look even closer past the reactions, was that I do have so much of me to express. When I do not do so, I am tired, I am ill, I am less than. I erode into the world, my batteries become corroded. I notice that I still do not have a way to express all that I wish in the ‘right’ words, or sounds, or images. Sometimes this is a color or a scent or a feeling. A label just doesn’t seem to fit or forces it to be a perception of others which isn’t precise, and then becomes not enough. I can feel unseen and unheard. Not honored.

I am the bell, ringing out across cold winter lands, echoing back, mirrored. There are two things that come to mind about this bell. It could be vain and proud and simply wish to sound to gain praise from others about the qualities it possesses. The other is a sort of acknowledgement of the ring being a bit of puzzle in existence, a part of the whole, not just walking alongside, invisible and observing not affecting. What happens if we each feel that invisible and stop contributing to the whole?

I just moved from tears to smiles in a few moments here. I was feeling sad and then I heard…the wind whispers on your face and it talks through the trees…it does this always, no matter your regard nor your thanks. 🙂

Doors and The Things That Matter

“A writer’s inner life matters: it is hard to imagine that anything matters more. Nor is this inner life something that anyone else is privy to, unless and until the writer wants to share it. It is a private, secret hotbed of activity, an unruly, unquiet, unholy cauldron bubbling with the best and the worst thoughts a person can think.”
– Eric Maisel

What if it’s worn on a sleeve, pushing right through the front door, mask-less, the manner in which is said to be ideal? What if the owner of the door is blind to all things that do not fulfill expectations and visions of front door behaviors. Is taking what comes then, being naive? is it only understanding and taking in energy on the expected level? If all that comes with me that I express, shows each facet as I turn in the Sun a succession, an ever changing view as I breathe in and out, as I adapt to circumstance receiving, interpreting, and feeding back messages of word and of energy, appears to change because your view says stagnant, fixed, and boxed. Does that make me any less honest or even more funny–any less me?

Does our writer friend up there express facets of self in pure fiction to escape himself/herself? Does the friend attempt to determine what would be most of marketable interest to a particular target audience? Does the friend just talk to himself/herself and not care at all of these return impressions? When one limits the approach of a human by using words like ‘use the front door’, do they provide their own rules and expectations as such so that one may choose to provide or to refuse? or are they simply afraid to state their needs and tell you they are sizing you up with prejudice or fears?

Does this idea all go back to honesty? trust? valuation? weights and measures? Or, is it something else? I’m enjoying the ride and am glad for continuing to grow and to share my view. It is your choice to meet me or not.

–elisa

Empowerment is a tool. How do you know what kind of tool someone is offering to you? How do you decide what to do with it?

“The body is the tree of enlightenment,
The mind like a clear mirror stand;
Time and again wipe it diligently,
Don’t let it gather dust.”
– Shenxiu

“Enlightenment is basically not a tree,
And the clear mirror is not a stand.
Fundamentally there is not a single thing –
Where can dust collect?”
– Huineng

“Some people fear seeing or feeling anything about which there is no general agreement. For others, it is thrilling to be aware of innuendo, shading, complexity. For those who do not wish to step away from consensus, the creative is useless at best; at worst, it is dangerous. But for those who are intrigued by the multiplicity of reality and the unique possibilities of their own vision, the creative is the path they must pursue.”
– Deena Metzger

“In one creative thought, a thousand forgotten nights of love revive,
filling it with sublimity and exaltation.
And those who come together in the night and are
entwined in rocking delight do an earnest work and gather sweetness,
gather depth and strength for the song of some coming poet,
who will arise to speak of ecstasies beyond telling.”
– Rainer Maria Rilke

“There is a language older by far and deeper than words. It is the language of bodies, of body on body, wind on snow, rain on trees, wave on stone. It is the language of dream, gesture, symbol, memory. We have forgotten this language. We do not even remember that it exists.

In order for us to maintain our way of living, we must, in a broad sense, tell lies to each other, and especially to ourselves. It is not necessary that the lies be particularly believable. The lies act as barriers to truth. These barriers to truth are necessary because without them many deplorable acts would become impossibilities. Truth must at all costs be avoided. When we do allow self-evident truths to percolate past our defenses and into our consciousness, they are treated like so many hand grenades rolling across the dance floor of an improbably macabre party. We try to stay out of harm’s way, afraid they will go off, shatter our delusions, and leave us exposed to what we have done to the world and to ourselves, exposed as the hollow people we have become.”
– Derrick Jensen

“A basic part of the whole truth is to perceive the falsity of every operative idea that is really false. This is extraordinarily difficult, as our motivations are confused and twisted in a very complicated way. Many of our false ideas operate subliminally, or even subconsciously. The problem is far more difficult to understand, than, for example, the theory of relativity, so that it requires a sustained and serious effort. Yet many people expect to understand truth in five minutes.”
– David Bohm

Schizophrenia
Schizophrenia is a mental disorder that makes it difficult to tell the difference between real and unreal experiences, to think logically, to have normal emotional responses, and to behave normally in social situations.
False beliefs or thoughts that have nothing to do with reality (delusions)



Discernment
1 : the quality of being able to grasp and comprehend what is obscure : skill in discerning
2 : an act of discerning
synonyms discernment, discrimination, perception, penetration, insight, acumen mean a power to see what is not evident to the average mind. discernment stresses accuracy (as in reading character or motives or appreciating art)

When we are empowered to think, to organize and to process for self all of the inputs around us, we truly learn to think and to decide and to grow and move in directions that are truly healthy and of value to us.
Have an Awesome Day and THINK TONS!

Do you follow the crowd? or, Do you Know what Really Matters?

CARE OF THE SOUL: Teaching What Matters

Thomas Moore

“When I was in graduate school, I was fascinated by a play by Eugene Ionesco called The Lesson. In it a young woman studies for the total doctorate, but she has a problem. She can add perfectly but can’t subtract. The teacher gets so upset by her failure to learn that eventually, he attacks her with a knife.

In school we learn how to add. We learn more and more facts, study more subjects, and acquire more diplomas and degrees. We learn enough to become a success at work and add more money to our bank accounts. But like the woman in the play, we are not good at subtraction. We don’t learn how to live with one person in a marriage or how to lose our freedom as we bring up our children. We don’t learn how to deal with jealousy and envy, emotions that afflict us when we don’t have what we want. We don’t learn how to deal with failures and setbacks and losses. We don’t learn what to do when our health is in the minus column. We don’t learn about the ultimate subtraction-death.

There are many aspects of ordinary life that apparently we believe we can accomplish naturally, unconsciously. It’s interesting that these things-marriage, illness, child-raising, depression, mortality-are fairly major concerns. Then why are these important items missing from the school curriculum? All signs indicate that we are not doing well in these areas, and yet major writers and artists have written about them, dramatized them, reflected on them, and written a vast quantity of music about them. There is much to study and to learn.

Maybe the problem is that we think of education as the dispensing of commodities, rather than ideas and values and elements of character. We want to train our children to get good jobs and make enough money to be comfortable. We want them to develop useful skills, not skills that will humanize them and turn them into cultured persons. We don’t see education as having to do with whether their marriages hold, their children grow up happy, or their spiritual and emotional potentialities find fulfillment. We have lost sight of the total doctorate.

Counseling psychologists know a lot about relationships and emotions, and hospice workers could give good lessons in dying and caring for the dying. There are many books on work, creativity, and vocation. But we leave all of this important material to chance or to workshops outside established educational structures. I would like to see children start learning, from the earliest grades, how to deal with strong emotions, how to make good relationships, and how to navigate sickness and change.

There’s no room in the curriculum, they will say. Yet I’m sure there are ways to make room. We could teach more intensely. We could offer more hands-on, in situ experience. Children could learn through apprenticeship. We could have less repetition and therefore more room for the education of the heart.

For example, I often write about mythology in my books. Schooled in the writings of C.G. Jung, Joseph Campbell, and James Hillman, I find mythology to be a rich source of insight into human experience. When I lecture about it, people often tell me wistfully that they studied mythology in school but never thought it was relevant to their lives. I’d call that a missed opportunity.

The same could be said of studies in literature, art history, and even math. You just have to probe beneath the surface to find personal meaning in anything that you study. Without proselytizing or forcing their view and values, teachers could help students explore the basic issues of meaning and emotion in any subject. Students could deepen their vision and their relationship with the human community.

In Ionesco’s play, the professor’s knife symbolizes the aggression that often emerges when we teach children. Maybe that aggression has a negative effect because it comes out of a vacuum of values, an educational environment where deep, human learning has no place. In a more visionary setting, this natural aggression could turn into a vigorous style of study and exploration that would be worth the hours spent and calling followed. Maybe if we taught the things that really matter, if we aimed at the total doctorate, we parents and teachers would be passionate in our love of the subject and love of our children.”

Article from

(the above images are direct links, please click upon them if you would like! I did not have the skills base available to size one of them to fit the window.)

Yearning

I have so many thinks about how I feel today. Nothing is striking me as more than a facet of the expression of it. Thinking of that phoenix again, absolute pain beyond measure and at the same moment joyful rapture, explosion of expression without bounds, before resettling. So many things to notice at once, joy, pain, suffering, creation, destruction, which is which? Do they feel any different? Does it matter? Must I be passive? Must I act quickly? Is my help needed in the helpful word granted me in a book, in the song of unmaking, am I unmaking “I”, am I making a new “I”? lol See now looking at it this way isn’t feeling quite so heavy, but in a minute I might be back writing in flame wishing escape instead of dancing with it.

A Story, for Kathy

Here is a story:

Once upon a time, there was a man, oh and a woman
[this should tell you something immediately, unless it tells you the wrong thing]
the man was himself, the woman was herself–happily and gloriously so.
In fact, it took several years for the woman to even believe that the man truly did enjoy, experience, and accept even her worst fanged fits.

True, the man had his own fits. The woman watched these, sometimes with comments, sometimes with the woman managing them silently, and many many other times the woman simply observed learning about him.

The man asked about the woman’s dreams and desires and allowed her plenty of space to express them with smiles and promises to meet as many of them as he was able. I might add, as with all communications, that there were certainly correct and incorrect assumptions made about the level of importance of each item. But for the most part for a very long time the man and the woman talked about everything and thus, knowledge about what was really going in passed between them evenly. This process allowed for the man’s need for control, which the woman noted cautiously but consented as long as needs were being met…it seemed such a small concession for the exchange.

Then one day, it seemed one day though it had been happening a little chip at a time, the man asked about the woman’s desires and laughed a wicked laugh inside his heart. He thrilled at the power to withhold from himself that which he needed most from the woman, and inflicted that upon her. As his power was in his anger, he became more angry at not gaining what he needed and imposed further restrictions upon the woman’s ability to provide them.

The woman was confused and became uncertain and stopped expressing herself. She sat and she filtered through all of her observations, her wisdom, and her knowing. She went deep down inside herself, past her inner flame, into the deep inner pool of cool clear water to wash herself clean and to gather again.

The end, or another most excellent beginning!