Saying Yes

I rarely let the word "No" escape
From my mouth

Because it is so plain to my soul

That God has shouted, "Yes! Yes! Yes!"
To every luminous movement in Existence.

 - Hafiz

She was young and fearful.  A shy girl
who was afraid of dogs and snowmen,
people and lightning.  When she was
thirty-one, her husband moved out. She
was jobless, timid, with two young children
to raise

- a boy and a girl.  Sleeping on the couch so that
WHEN a big, hairy figure in a black
trenchcoat would happen to break in,
she would be the first victim - and hopefully
the last - that he would meet,

sparing the children. After the big, hairy figure
in the black trenchcoat never came;
when, somehow, she stopped hiding from
uncovered windows - portals for the
ugly faces of menacing men -

that is when the word Yes first formed
at the back of her tongue.  A whisper
at first, foolishly done at times such as
when the wrong man wanted to be with
her, but the word grew into her and
now there are days when it swells in her heart

and out through her pores.  Yes! Yes!
Yes! to life, to love, to what comes next.

Dog Smiles

This made my day:

I'm So Glad That You Are Happy!

Last night, right before I fell asleep, I read a little Hafiz from the book titled, I heard God Laughing.  I fell asleep marveling at what I had just read.  Something about telling a dog that I am so glad that it is happy to see me.

I was blown away.

Always, if some person or some animal is glad to see me, I think that it's about me.  They are glad to see ME, the one, the only Carol of "A Peace Carol" fame, and I'm happy that they are glad to see ME, because it means they like ME.  It has never entered my mind to just be happy that that person or waggy dog is happy!  Nothing to do with me.

Oh, that's almost embarrassing to admit!

When I woke up in the middle of the night, I remembered what I had read and, whooooosh, blown away again.

And when my internal clock told me it was morning, even though the gray skies didn't demonstrate that through my closed blinds, there it was again... head blown in a million pieces!

I got up and went through the entire book, looking for the piece that had those magical words.  Twice, I looked at every poem in the book, but I didn't find it.

I started to think that maybe I came up with that piece of brilliance all by myself.  Maybe I was touched by a tremendous wisdom, full of possibilities, but had associated it with the book, since it was the last thing I read before going to bed.

This afternoon, I looked one more time and I found it - the last part of a poem on page 58.  I, Carol of "A Peace Carol" fame was not a channel for that stunning new way of seeing things.  I'm very much more than OK with that.  It will be enough work just to be able to incorporate this new way of seeing into my life.

Hafiz,

Who can you tell in this world

That when a dog runs up to you

Wagging its ecstatic tail,

You lean down and whisper in its ear,

"Beloved,

I am so glad You are happy to see me.

Beloved,

I am so glad 

So very glad You have come."

 - Hafiz

Buddha dog, I am SO GLAD that you are happy to see me!

Right In Front Of Our Eyes!

 
Three crows were yelling madly in the cottonwood tree as I headed outside to add shredded cardboard to our compost bin. I looked up to see the three black bird shapes perched at the very tip-top of the naked 5-story tall tree, then I went about my business of offering my gift to the decay and worms. As I put the cover onto the bin, the crows took off over my head and I saw the target of their ire: a hawk. Grouchy old birds were still nagging at that hawk while trailing him as he soared north.

And that got me to thinkin'...

You may know how much I love raptors. A day I see a hawk, eagle or owl, is an extremely good day for me. I am good at spotting them. Well, usually.

So how did I miss seeing this big, gorgeous bird who was sitting in a tree only a few yards from me??? Because 1) I didn't expected it to be there (I've NEVER seen a hawk in a tree near our yard), and 2) I was only looking at the source of the irritating crow sounds.

And, my friends, that illustrates what's going on in this world. The politicians and media are yelling madly, claiming this and blaming that, while peace, reason and kindness are doing their thing and rarely being noticed.

Once again, I am reminded to let the noise and confusion waft wherever it wants to waft without hooking my attention so that I can see clearly the beauty and majesty which is right in front of my eyes.  Always.

Clyde

Mary and I make quite the pair.  I guess she's always cried at the drop of a hat, but this leaky eye thing is pretty new to me.  A dam or some armor or something has been taken away from me within the last year, and now the floods just flow.  It's actually kind of sweet.

When I went for my second lesson with the handsome Clyde today, I knew that I had to bring this song along for Mary to hear:



I sat and listened to Mary's birds singing and talking about things I didn't understand while the song played in Mary's ears via the earbuds.   I knew it would get to her and it did, sure enough!

Then we had a long discussion about life WHILE CLYDE PATIENTLY WAITED OUTSIDE!  Well, he wasn't exactly waiting.  Actually, he didn't even know I was there, and he was busy eating anything he could nibble out of the icy slush out back.

But Clyde is a love and he didn't mind it too much when I interrupted his snacking so we could play (at least he didn't tell me if he did mind).

Unfortunately, because Mary and I had spent so much time figuring out how the universe works, there wasn't enough horse time today.  It all works out, though.  I have to say that the best part of my lesson was rubbing Clyde's behind and up under the back side of his tail.  That place feels weird!  I didn't know!  I've never been so, ummm, intimate with a horse (or very many other living beings) before.

Now that Clyde and I have played kissy face and I've rubbed his, ahem, cute hind end, I just don't know where this relationship will go.  I'm beginning to get a little crazy over that handsome guy with the big, brown eyes.


I saw horses from my window,
They were watching all the cars go.
And they don't care that I am broken,
close my eyes and run beside them.

Through the valleys and the pastures,
and I know you'll never find me.
'Cause I'm already free. 

 - Dala

Freakin' Awesome!

Somehow, I came upon a creative video of a DUDE talking about his new product.  He actually learned how to knit and then he created the Freaker.  As of now, these pieces of bottle clothing are made in some factory or something, but the company is still very human and fun.

I wanted one to dress my stainless steel water bottle in so that, while standing for peace on hot summer days, my water would stay all cool and comfy.

When I went to the site to purchase my very own Freaker, I was sorely disappointed to find that there were no Peace Sign Freakers.  I mean SORELY, because only a peace sign would do.  So I emailed a little suggestion to the company.  I mean, wouldn't you think there would be a huge market for Peace Sign Freakers???  The response I got back from someone at the company, although very playful and loving, was still a bummer, because it indicated that there used to be Peace Sign Freakers, but that is no longer the case.

NO WONDER WE ARE STILL WAITING FOR PEACE ON EARTH!

Fortunately for me, a woman named Molly emailed me later that evening and told me that there were TWO Peace Sign Freakers remaining in Freakerville and they were on a desk waiting to come home to ME!

Oh, happy day!

From the Freaker website: 

They aren’t selling a product, they’re giving you an invitation to their party; a starter kit for a new lifestyle. The Freaker isn’t a strike-at-the-wind attempt to get rich, it’s the background music to a never-ending journey. Infusing life into a drink sweater, the FreakerTeam of madcap facilitators want to make sure you know that you’re invited to join in the fun.

Go take a look at all of the Freaker designs (click on the word, Freaker, anywhere in this post), and if you have a water bottle or other beverage container in need of a little dressing up, support the partying by getting your very own Freaker.

Sorry I took the last of the peace signs, but I promise to bring Peace to as many places as I can.

Wilderness Quest 2011 - Part 13

Am I really going to end it on the number thirteen?  None of this has been planned - if I had planned it, I would have had it end on twelve, a nice even, holy number.  But I'm not the biggest planner.  Ask Mr. CFP what reaction he gets when he suggests we "plan our day".

_____________

Friday morning.  Today we all head back to base camp.  If I had access to a good meal here, I would be more than happy to stay at least a few days longer.  But I don't have any food, and people will come looking for me if I don't make it back to the group by mid-morning.  Hmmmm... I wonder what that would be like!  I pack my stuff.  Then I pick up a rock from my prayer circle, spend a moment remembering the person I allowed to be represented by it, and I liberate it - throwing it out some place in the sand and sage.  I do that for each rock in the circle until none are left.  Then I thank the lovely spot for the time we've spent together.

As I walk back toward base camp, the mind begins its perverse game of,
"Is this really the day I'm supposed to go back?  Maybe I counted the days wrong and I'm not supposed to go back until tomorrow."
"No, today is the day."
"How do you know?"

And for the second or third time today, I go over events that occurred every day and night during my solo, and I convince the crazy head ghosts that everything is cool.  This is the day to head back.

Carrying my gear after three days of minimal calories, I get tired and breathless on my walk and I have to stop and rest.  This experience is no different than the other times when I have fasted the three days of solo, so I feel smug in knowing that, even though I ate some food this time, I'm still suffering as much as if I didn't.  Heh heh...

Once back at base camp, I enter through the rock circle that was also the portal for entering my solo.  I'm greeted and blessed by the guides.  And then... food.  Lovely fruit and out-of-this-world hard-boiled eggs.  Aaaahhhh... It's as though I am tasting these things for the first time.

During the rest of this day, and then again tomorrow morning, we will share our stories.  I already feel changed by my experiences, but listening to the crack-your-heart-into-a-million-pieces stories that I hear from others, I am changed even more.

A quest in the desert offers each of us lessons in the way we need them most.  It is not unique in this.  Every moment brings us limitless opportunities to see ourselves, to understand, to open into more of who we are.  It just seems that quest is an accelerated course, due to the structure, the excellent guidance from the guides, the earnest fellow travelers, and the time spent in Huge Desert Mama's lap.

Previous Wilderness Quest Posts:   1  2  3  4  5  6  7  8  9  10  11  12

Listen

She has had these for sixty years.  It is like a lightening storm.  A discharge of built-up energy.  After a period of more-than-usual stress, or sometimes maybe just for the hell of it, muscles or nerves in her head spasm with an almost skull-cracking ferocity, over and over for days.

Now that she is alone, her husband no longer able to soothe her with head rubs, she allows her daughter to massage, caress, and love her neck and noggin - an act that brings everything around full circle, from mother nurturing her young daughter to daughter now caring for elderly mother as she would her own child.

So sweet.  So intimate.

With her mother's head in her hands, the daughter dances lightly among the hyper-alert muscles.  As she would do with a an abused horse, she allows her hands to gently say hello, not lingering long in any one place, gaining trust as she shows that she means no harm.  Listening with her hands and heart, she only comes close if there is permission.  She asks the muscles, as she would ask the horse, "What do you want to tell me?"  Then she listens for the answer.

Yes, she mostly listens.  Because everything:  horses, muscles, birds, the earth, our lovers... all of life needs our listening.

This is what she hears:  ancient wounds, stored in tight fibers, which caused a mother to try to control the uncontrollable in her son and daughter; the inner pain that would cause a parent to tear off her teen-aged daughter's clothes in front of out-of-town guests; the unvisited scars that could motivate a woman to make public scenes about her daughter's eating, resulting in the daughter diving into eating disorders.

And tears of healing run down the daughter's face and into her heart.

Sometimes (most of the time), I have stories in my head about how things should be and why I can't do things differently.  Once in a while, I decide to challenge those stories and I'm happily surprised to see that things only get better.

Like the idea I've held for about 20 years that I needed to part my hair on the right - the side where my gargantuan cowlick is.  Ever since I quit parting my hair down the middle, it's been parted on the right. 

Different hairdressers have tried to get me to part it on the left.  But I knew it wouldn't work -I would be trying to have hair lie down over that big bump of cowlick - so I didn't try.

For some strange reason, when Awesome Emily the Hairwhiz recently suggested it once again, the words, "Why not?" rolled out of my mouth as easily as the "F" word rolls out of Robin Williams. 

Now I part my hair on the left and I love it!

I could have done this years ago.

Let's see now, what else can I change..

Democratic Womanism

This is what got me excited on Wednesday:   Alice Walker's poem titled, Democratic Womanism. An excerpt is pasted below, but you can read the whole thing by clicking here.

Democratic Womanism

Copyright©2012 by Alice Walker


You ask me why I smile

when you tell me you intend

in the coming national elections

to hold your nose

and vote for the lesser of two evils.

There are more than two evils out there,

is one reason I smile.

Another is that our old buddy Nostradamus

comes to mind, with his dreadful

400 year old prophecy:  that our world

and theirs too

(our “enemies” – lots of kids included here)

will end (by nuclear nekba or holocaust)

in our lifetime.  Which makes the idea of elections

and the billions of dollars wasted on them

somewhat fatuous.


A Southerner of Color,

my people held the vote

very dear

while others, for centuries,

merely appeared to play

with it.


One thing I can assure

you of is this:

I will never betray such pure hearts

by voting for evil

even if it were microscopic

which, as you can see in any newscast

no matter the slant,

it is not.



I want something else;

a different system

entirely.

One not seen

on this earth

for thousands of years.  If ever.



Democratic Womanism.



Notice how this word has “man” right in the middle of it?

That’s one reason I like it.  He is there, front and center.  But he is surrounded.



I want to vote and work for a way of life

that honors the feminine;

a way that acknowledges

the theft of the wisdom

female and dark Mother leadership

might have provided our spaceship

all along.

Colorado Skies

Blew a fuse in the kitchen yesterday evening.  I plugged in the space heater, then saw the sunset outside my window and had to run to get the camera to record it.  Can't run the toaster oven and the space heater at the same time in the same outlet.  I knew that, but the mind dumped all thoughts other than "Wow!" when the eyes saw the skies.

Many people refuse to live where electrical wires show themselves.  Like the scar on my belly, we've got to hide the things that remind us of imperfection.

Speaking of belly scars, the only swimsuit I own - the one that I last wore... hmmmmm... it's been a couple of years... Anyway, it doesn't cover my middle.  I haven't put it on, but I'm guessing that it actually highlights the scar that now runs vertically next to my belly button.  I'll be taking it (the swimsuit - oh, and the scar, too) to Bequia with me in a couple of months.  Do I hide my perfect imperfection with a t-shirt?  Or do I let it naturally show itself and celebrate the fact that I'm alive and healthy, thanks to this beautiful scar?

Can't Hear You!!!

As you may or may not have noticed, I have turned off the ability to comment on this blog.

It's not because I don't enjoy hearing from my multitudes of readers.  I love you guys!

I will still be blogging here and traveling around to visit your blogs there.  And if you would like to, you can still contact me through my email address or on my web form (see upper right-hand corner of this page).

This kind of feels like the day when we got rid of our land line and resorted to only using our cellphones.  I was attached to that old phone number.  It had been mine for many years.  I almost felt like Tom Hanks in Castaway, all alone out on some island.  How would I know that anyone loved me???  Oh, the silence of it all! 

Speaking of Castaway, I really liked that movie.  May have to see it again.

And speaking of movies, did I tell you that we saw Hugo 3D?  It was so much fun!  I went to it as a reluctant participant, only going along because our friends had suggested it and I thought, "What the heck?"  The 3D was exquisite and the detail pulled me in until I forgot that I existed.  I highly recommend it, even though it's very expensive (I think) for a movie.  $14 per adult!  That's more than many people make in an hour!  That's more than the net pay after two hours of work for a huge number of people! 

Well, back to the subject at hand...  I'm not going away.  I just want to see what it's like to write without my internal editor, if that's possible.

Mwah!

Dancing With Horses

Mary says they are a mirror of us.  I experienced that a little today when I spent a couple of hours with her and her horses.  I saw my qualities of gentleness, intuition, and acceptance - two things I usually forget to give myself much credit for.  I also got to see when I wasn't clear about what I wanted.  Ahhhh... that's familiar. 

I haven't been around horses much in my life.  And, to be honest, I've always been a little scared of those creatures, even as I found them to be beautiful enough to melt my heart.  I remember my brother's friend when I was a kid.  He had a scar on his back, and the story was that it was the result of a sneaky horse taking a chomp.  That provided a good reason to be afraid.  Other reasons include, but are not limited to, the fact that horses are massive, they can get spooked, and they have really hard hooves. 

I rest my case.

So, when Mary left us to go check on the plumber working inside only moments after Clyde and I were introduced, I was feeling a little uncomfortable - I know that one unexpected move by Clyde and I would have jumped the 8-foot fence surrounding us without even knowing how - but I was also drawn into the beauty of Clyde's eyes and the warmth of his sun-kissed shoulders.  Clyde allowed me to explore his neck and shoulder muscles and to also soak up some of the extra solar heat he had absorbed.

After Mary came back out, I learned about putting on a halter.  Then she taught me about using my energy to move a horse.  Oh my God!  Is this some kind of secret that I have been missing out on all my life?  Mary and Clyde danced like lovers.  And then I gave it a try.   Clyde and I were more like two good-intentioned beginners.  But dance did happen.  It is friggin' magic!

By the end of our time together, Clyde and I were playing kissie face and I wanted to bring him home with me.  This mirror that Mary was talking about... Love was being reflected all over the place.

I can hardly wait to go back for more of that!

Me and a different horse.  He was a stranger I met outside of Glacier National Park.  

(I guess I'm a horse flirt.)

Wildnerness Quest 2011 - Part 12

The Wedding

It was the last day of my solo.  Three days of (mostly) being alone in the desert.  I didn't know that this quest would be so filled with my dad's presence.  I had intended to "just be" with the moment, the sun, the sand, and anything else that appeared.  When I had set my intention, I didn't know that it would mean "just being" with my dad.

At this point, I had done a life review in which I realized how focused on myeslf I had been while growing up - passing up the opportunity to also be aware of the experiences of my parents.  On the second day of my solo, I had written an obituary for my dad, and I had midwifed him into death.  Earlier on this third day, I had taken a long walk with Dad, and we learned a lot about each other.

Now it was time for the funeral.  But it wasn't a funeral.  It was a stunningly poignant wedding.

In preparation, I washed my hair for the first time in five days and I applied lavender lotion to my skin.  I gathered sage, putting a bunch in my breast pocket - as close to a corsage as I could get.  I tore pieces of sage into bits and stowed them in my pocket for distributing along the aisle as many people do with church weddings.

The wedding was held in the wash that ran along my camp. 

Here is what I wrote after the event:

Dear Diary,

I just returned from my dad's wedding.  It was beautiful.

I walked up the aisle, dropping bits of sage while John Denver's song, The Eagle and the Hawk, floated through the air.  I stood with my dad as he awaited his bride (Death).  He was so handsome in his suit - he looked as he did when he was about 30.  The bride was gorgeous with a long, flowing white dress and beautiful, golden hair.  The minister told my dad there are no rules, no "sickness and health".  Only Freedom, Oneness, Wholeness, Eternity.  The minister asked the bride if she would take my dad to Freedom, Oneness and No More Sickness.

As they went back down the aisle together, I yelled, "Goodbye!" to Dad, knowing that I won't see him again, yet I see him everywhere.  I went to the canyon edge and threw sage at the bride and groom as they became the blue sky.

"Goodbye, Daddy.  I love you.  You were a good daddy."





Previous Wilderness Quest Posts:   1  2  3  4  5  6  7  8  9  10  11