tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12270496317785643592024-03-13T21:23:25.618-07:00Writing Whats Real<a href="http://pinterest.com/swanfether/"><img src="http://passets-cdn.pinterest.com/images/about/buttons/follow-me-on-pinterest-button.png" width="169" height="28" alt="Follow Me on Pinterest"></a>stephanie laurahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15658757016965844355noreply@blogger.comBlogger48125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1227049631778564359.post-49660455584033283872015-12-15T23:01:00.002-08:002018-06-04T09:39:35.677-07:00"I AM NOT OLD, she said . . ."<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><b><u> </u></b></span></span></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><b><u></u></b></span></span></span></span>I am not old . . . she said</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I am rare. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I am the standing ovation</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">At the end of the play.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I am the retrospective</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Of my life as art</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I am the hours</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Connected like dots.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Into good sense. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I am the fullness</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Of existing.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">You think I am waiting to be die</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"> But I am waiting to be found... </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I am a treasure. <br />I am a map. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">And these wrinkles are</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Imprints of my journey.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Ask me anything.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i>Samantha Reynolds</i></span><br />
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<span class="text_exposed_show" style="font-size: small;"> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Aunt Lillian refused to let old age stop her from piling her grand-kids into the car, and driving down to California so they could <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">see</span> Disneyland! Or pulling off the highway to visit <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">one</span> particular Donkey on the other side of <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">it<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">s'</span></span> fence, which came to be a ritual each time she traveled down the corridor between Tillamook, Oregon, and Southern California. </span></span></span><br />
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<span class="text_exposed_show" style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">The three 'Espy Girls' (Florence, Helen, & Lillian) grew up in Kansas. Their story is an interesting tale! Now these amazingly strong and sturdy midwestern gals are gone. Their fascinating stories remain and I am so deeply grateful to have been able to hang out with my Aunt Lillian (who is showing me a bit of family history, here, which she found in Washington State!) We had the good fortune to visit often over a period when transition was afoot in many ways for us both. I remain deeply grateful for the nuggets and memories which we shared and co-created with that precious time. </span></span></span></div>
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stephanie laurahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15658757016965844355noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1227049631778564359.post-68900890772603747872014-12-11T08:32:00.001-08:002018-07-04T09:08:02.341-07:00Happy to be Here<br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">It's winter time.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><b><i>Stormy Weather</i></b> ! </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">My father, Gus, would often sing "Oh What A Beautiful Morning! Oh What A Beautiful Day! I've got a wonderful feeling, everything's going my way!" and he lived a beautiful life because he believed this. He lived AS IF he believed it and his infectious sense of well-being made everyone around him feel good. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Today the wind chimes are ringing with zest. The entire West Coast is having 'one duzzy of a storm'!!! (as Gus would say...). Newscasts are full of dire warnings and live footage. I don't go around singing like my dad did, but his good-natured spirit of trust, is a gift I imbibed from growing up at his side. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Today I will be going out into this weather to run errands. I'm excited about venturing out into 'the storm of the decade'! Tomorrow, I will be taking Freddy to the airport for his eagerly anticipated trip to Costa Rica. Saturday, I will be going 'over the hill' (in this storm's full fury) once again, for the huge public Chirstmas Gathering held by Open Gate Sangha, since Adyashanti loves this season like a little boy--where we will all sing Christmas Carols together and have yummy food. Maybe I will also be stepping out tonight for the premiere debut of the movie WILD!! </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Matthew will be out and about in this furious weather with his KSBW TV news camera, taking live shots in the coastal towns all around Seaside, Monterey and Santa Cruz. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">The lights are flickering in the house now and our power is probably going to go out. I put the candles and lighter out on the table last light, anticipating this would happen. As kids growing up in the early days of The San Fernando Valley, power failures were exciting. We would all move about in the hush of dark candlelight and with my brother, I would stand on the bed and watch Lightning through the high narrow window, as we counted the seconds between the loud crackling rolls of Thunder.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I am wondering where my little squirrel friends go to keep dry and safe. Will the brave little guy who comes in through the front porch window for his peanuts, still visit? What if I made up a little 'squirrel bed' for him--would he stay there? </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">So, here in this early morning aliveness of a raging storm in full swing and a lamp-lit home, with picture windows open to the gray mist, wildly swinging tree limbs, and moaning winds--PASSION is in the air!</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">It is INDEED a BEAUTIFUL DAY!</span></span></div>
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stephanie laurahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15658757016965844355noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1227049631778564359.post-1114704448689207132014-06-03T23:29:00.003-07:002019-02-16T19:32:13.888-08:00Riding an Old Steam Train at Roaring Camp<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Rs01Ndr8de4/U46Gk5748VI/AAAAAAAADhg/WXBWWnSFsAY/s1600/10371707_10202867867512318_6899102239510779432_n-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Rs01Ndr8de4/U46Gk5748VI/AAAAAAAADhg/WXBWWnSFsAY/s1600/10371707_10202867867512318_6899102239510779432_n-2.jpg" width="640" /></a><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Two very lucky moms. Two utterly awesome sons. And a special treat that we will all treasure forever! Our guys decided to invite their moms out for a round-trip train ride, followed by dinner on the wharf!!<br /><br />Roaring Camp's old Steam Train departs from the Beach Boardwalk, so w</span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">e all agreed to meet each other there. </span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Finding places to park on the first Saturday of summer vacation, was hard enough! But then we all had to FIND EACH OTHER! (This is where cell phones are worth their weight in gold)</span></div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-7LkamZ3Haww/U5A_T28HGtI/AAAAAAAADiw/nf7bEx9zhME/s1600/2674_Roaring-Camp.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-7LkamZ3Haww/U5A_T28HGtI/AAAAAAAADiw/nf7bEx9zhME/s1600/2674_Roaring-Camp.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Once we were all finally connected and ready to board our train, there was a slight snafu. We had managed to cut the time so close, that we missed our train! It took off just before we arrived. But, what adventure is truly complete without unexpected developments?? <br /><br />We remained calm, however, and decided to just DRIVE up to Roaring Camp, instead. There, we could still catch the 'return trip' from the the old saw mill depot. This way we'd ride the train back to the Boardwalk, where we would be rewarded with a delicious meal, upon our arrival. So we left the dazzling tumult of beach amusement park vibes, behind us, for a leisurely car trek up into the mountains.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">There was plenty of time before we had to board our return train, so we stopped for a stroll through some of the old-growth redwoods in </span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="clear: right; display: inline; float: right; font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"></span>Felton, where we took a walk across the historic covered bridge. </span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Matthew and Dennis met during college where they worked together on creative projects, at CSUMB through Film, Art, and Media studies. Most of these photos were taken by my son, Matt, who is currently a TV news photographer at KSBW. <br /><br />When we finally boarded our train, we chose the 'Open Air' car, where we were able to lean back and peer upward into the endless reach of ancient redwood trees, as they sought the distant sunlight, high above their dense habitat. </span><br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-B76ag8-RnGg/U46GkR6qYoI/AAAAAAAADh4/v3JpNUNcjzc/s1600/10344165_10202867865032256_1805056128901611979_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-B76ag8-RnGg/U46GkR6qYoI/AAAAAAAADh4/v3JpNUNcjzc/s1600/10344165_10202867865032256_1805056128901611979_o.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; text-align: justify;">We rolled along the tracks,</span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"> at a gentle pace, </span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; text-align: justify;">through s</span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; text-align: justify;">hady, verdant corridors,</span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; text-align: justify;">as f</span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; text-align: justify;">resh air caressed our skin. </span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; text-align: justify;"> </span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; text-align: justify;">Patches of bright sunlight streamed through whenever space opened up between the trees.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; text-align: justify;">It was a thrill to cross the old historic bridge when we rumbled over the trestle, high above the San Lorenzo River (in Henry Cowell Park, beneath us).</span><br />
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-L9GzIGeo3Tk/U5ZO8c2ojnI/AAAAAAAADkE/dz6o6XooX9o/s1600/10376174_10202867866752299_5646367150679618136_n-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-L9GzIGeo3Tk/U5ZO8c2ojnI/AAAAAAAADkE/dz6o6XooX9o/s1600/10376174_10202867866752299_5646367150679618136_n-2.jpg" width="640" /></a><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Whenever I hike the forest trails below </span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">this bridge</span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; text-align: justify;">, </span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I often gaze UP at the overhead trestle, with deep appreciation for such</span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; text-align: justify;"> magnificence. </span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; text-align: justify;">What a thrill it was to cross over this very same historic bridge, peering <i>down into</i> the park, at such </span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; text-align: justify;">beautiful scenery, from a birds eye view.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">There was plenty of time to wander through the different train cars. I was particularly captivated by the plush red-velvet lounge car seats, and tiny windows along the ceiling, with echoes of a classy bygone era! </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br />You could almost hear their conversation as the curtain of time parted, to reveal women in fancy vintage clothing, and men in pin-stripped suits.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="text-align: right;">As our train approached town, we got to rumble through the old tunnel that cuts through the mountain, emerging at Chestnut Street (in downtown Santa Cruz). The odor of fresh dirt inside the tunnel revived childhood memories of running free and wild, exploring vacant lots before development took over. </span><span style="text-align: right;"></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="text-align: right;">It's impossible to take this train ride and not feel a sense of <i>peace and serenity</i> seep into your soul. The lively train conductor shared fascinating stories about the old days when lumberjacks, sawmills, and pioneers, occupied Roaring Camp. Children on the train learned how to say "Highball" with the engineer, when he was ready to take off. The whole experience was a fun escape from life's typical pace of routines and agendas.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="text-align: right;">Finally, our return to civilization brought us into the busy Boardwalk once again. It was warm & sunny when we eventually pulled into The amusement park railroad depot---back where we had started (and where at least some of our cars still waited!). But now, refreshed by the stillness and beauty of mountain rivers and majestic trees, <b>we were hungry!</b></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; text-align: right;">Disembarking, we strolled along the seaside, where we walked all the way to the end of the wharf to dine at Stagnero’s Restaurant. We enjoyed the view from our upstairs table as sailboats drifted along blue waters, and sea gulls perched on nearby peers. Our sons treated us to a most delicious dinner, with vista views of the Santa Cruz shoreline spanning out in both directions along the coast. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; text-align: right;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ACX_ldLaijc/U5ZKTmgXoMI/AAAAAAAADj4/XGyV3_eskVo/s1600/golden+cups.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ACX_ldLaijc/U5ZKTmgXoMI/AAAAAAAADj4/XGyV3_eskVo/s1600/golden+cups.jpg" width="400" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; text-align: right;">I was quite enchanted by the golden cups which had held the drinks they served us. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; text-align: right;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; text-align: right;">Finally
getting to meet one another was a treat for us moms! Like a couple of
girlfriends, we had a great time hanging out together. We relished being
able to spend the whole day with two of the most amazing guys we know!
It was a delightful adventure that will continue to live in our hearts. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; text-align: right;">With such</span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; text-align: left;"> delicious food, (and having sons who conjured up this wonderful treat for their moms) who could be happier! </span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; text-align: center;">From start to finish, the excursion was spectacular. Relaxing, refreshing, inspiring, and invigorating. It was an honor and a delight. I am filled with gratitude.</span></div>
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<br />stephanie laurahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15658757016965844355noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1227049631778564359.post-54020218933228108132014-05-05T14:26:00.001-07:002014-09-26T08:07:23.365-07:00 Alleys of Langley<br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>~ My Whidbey Island Adventure ~</b></span></div>
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<b style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; text-align: justify;">Part III: </b><b style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; text-align: justify;">A Walk Along The Alleyways</b></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Autumn's elegant style </span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; text-align: justify;"> <b>softens the day </b></span><br />
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<b><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">paints late afternoon </span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>with moody light</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b> as </b></span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>alleyways show</b></span><b style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> us </b></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b>the heart of</b></span><br />
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<b style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> where paths cross</b><br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-aZjRFeSkPYI/U02UhnmW0xI/AAAAAAAACeU/1eykEa2eBfg/s1600/IMG_20131022_175033_469.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: justify;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-aZjRFeSkPYI/U02UhnmW0xI/AAAAAAAACeU/1eykEa2eBfg/s1600/IMG_20131022_175033_469.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></span><br />
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<b><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></b><b><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> feeling more alive</span></b><br />
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<b><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b> just knowing </b></span></b><br />
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<b style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; text-align: left;"> </b><b style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">simply </b><b style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; text-align: left;">belongs </b></div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bT37FmBlBfI/U2gQ_JJzrLI/AAAAAAAAC2A/Bcb78Gp-RJg/s1600/boy+&+dog+sculpture+Langley,+WA.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bT37FmBlBfI/U2gQ_JJzrLI/AAAAAAAAC2A/Bcb78Gp-RJg/s1600/boy+&+dog+sculpture+Langley,+WA.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
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<b> <span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> A town</span></b><br />
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<b><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="text-align: left;"> where </span></span></b><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><span style="text-align: left;"> a boy </span></b><b>and his dog</b></span></div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-2ZjaDdBS-FU/U2_a6yuUSWI/AAAAAAAAC6o/oTYir6_LsUw/s1600/Boy+Sculputre+Langley.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-2ZjaDdBS-FU/U2_a6yuUSWI/AAAAAAAAC6o/oTYir6_LsUw/s1600/Boy+Sculputre+Langley.jpg" height="299" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="text-align: right;"><b><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">stare into deep blue waters, amazed </span></b><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b>by </b><b>LIFE</b></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b>~ ~ ~</b> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: small;">Langley's alleyways are intimate places where neighbors wander amidst shops, pubs, cafes and galleries. </span><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: small;"></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: small;">This tiny storybook village is populated by folks living in a mish-mash of cabins, old farm houses, and modern homes. Here, folks recognize each other and an easy familiarity makes one feel 'at home'. </span><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: small;">I found that a trip to town
became much more than merely picking up provisions. Langley's layout
invites you to explore! It's charm beguiles. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: small;">Inside Langley there are but a handful of streets, each offering treasure and fascination, like a big playground. The actual dwellings where people live, are spread out, mostly found</span></span><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: small;"> along </span></span>dead-end roads off the highways that lead in and out of town. Exploring such avenues, might reveal a moody shoreline vista, a wild stretch of open land, or a home</span></span><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: small;"> tucked among magnificent old trees.</span></span></span></span></span> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Langley reminds me of the early San Fernando Valley, where the </span><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: small;"><a href="http://eucalyptusdays.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">'Eucalyptus Days'</a> </span><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: small;">of my childhood meant driving to the dairy for milk, or taking trips to the dump with any trash we could not burn in our incinerator </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: small;">(when my brother and I, would have a blast riding back home in the empty 'open trailer' after we'd emptied out all the trash)!</span><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: small;"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: small;">Being here took me back, to an era before </span><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">subdivisions, shopping malls, zoning laws, and safety restrictions. W</span></span><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">hen you chatted with the clerks</span> at the hardware store, bank, or gas pump. When school bus drivers still knew everyone's name. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><a href="http://writingwhatsreal.blogspot.com/2014/05/discovering-langley.html" target="_blank">Discovering Langley</a> </span><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: small;">you step into a vibrant small town world, that pulsates with love, made visible.</span></span></span> Life and work are not separated, here. Artists, business folk, professionals, and craftsmen contribute in obvious and visible ways, as integral members of a thriving community. They raise families, earn a livelihood, and yes, tourism is essential to the town, but it seems that Langley is an endangered species on an idyllic island! If you have a chance to visit this adorable place, I encourage you to take the Ferry Boat across the water and make yourself at home in a place that time forgot. You won't regret it!<i><br /></i></span></span></h3>
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stephanie laurahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15658757016965844355noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1227049631778564359.post-10174878654885899032014-05-05T14:25:00.000-07:002018-12-22T12:16:36.102-08:00Discovering Langley<div style="text-align: center;">
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<b style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-large;">~ My Whidbey Island Adventure ~</b><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><b><span style="font-size: small;">Part II: Langley's Downtown Spirit</span></b></span></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><b><span style="font-size: x-large;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-SeCPCWqJ_YE/U02iG_bucqI/AAAAAAAACgA/Ex86V6Iqfso/s1600/Langley+Painting-First-Street.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="425" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-SeCPCWqJ_YE/U02iG_bucqI/AAAAAAAACgA/Ex86V6Iqfso/s1600/Langley+Painting-First-Street.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></b></span></span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: blue;">“Langley Summer Color” </span></span><span style="font-size: xx-small;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-size: xx-small;">© Judi
Nyerges, http://fineartamerica.com </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">To enter Langley is to step inside the pages of a First Grade Reader again! My</span> stroll around town was reminiscent of Norman Rockwell paintings, where neighborhoods, shops, galleries, and cafes create village intimacy. Homes mingle with local businesses like old friends!</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-gOkA-LSk7TE/U02UZGoLLMI/AAAAAAAACdc/8XPqxLLIHD4/s1600/IMG_20131022_172649_402.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-gOkA-LSk7TE/U02UZGoLLMI/AAAAAAAACdc/8XPqxLLIHD4/s1600/IMG_20131022_172649_402.jpg" width="300" /></a><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-yaj2ygUTUy4/U04jiC8t_MI/AAAAAAAAChc/3U745e0igQk/s1600/float-500w-500h-165x165.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><br /></a></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: #1a1a1a; font-size: small;">A stunning corridor of </span><span style="color: #1a1a1a; font-size: small;">Autumn splendor,</span><span style="color: #1a1a1a; font-size: small;"> first </span><span style="color: #1a1a1a; font-size: small;">welcomed me into this crown-jewel of small towns. Waking up on misty Cultus Bay, I was greeted by</span><span style="color: #1a1a1a; font-size: small;"> a romantic, moody morning. </span><span style="color: #1a1a1a; font-size: small;">My rental car made its way past Bailey's town store, bar, and local hangout. Silence ushered me through the corridor of fog-shrouded pines, into a town that time had left untouched.</span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #1a1a1a;">Langley's vital, artistic atmosphere </span><span style="color: #1a1a1a;">created a </span><span style="color: #1a1a1a;">miniature magical world, perched above the bay! </span><span style="color: #1a1a1a;">Unique in character, it's intimate nature stole my heart.</span><span style="color: #1a1a1a;"> </span><span style="color: #1a1a1a;"> </span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #1a1a1a;">I took my laptop </span><span style="color: #1a1a1a;">into one of the trendy Coffee houses, populated by local artists and poets, where creativity was palpable! This
sweet village has a full range of cultural attractions: a 'lived-in' library
populated with local townsfolk, art
galleries with crafts in the making, and charm galore. Dreams of living here won't leave me alone! It felt like a tiny encapsulated version of my own home town (minus all the shopping malls and suburbs!). </span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: #1a1a1a; font-size: small;">I checked out Callahan's Studio, </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: #1a1a1a; font-size: small;">where I had an appointment to </span><span style="color: #1a1a1a; font-size: small;">make a </span><span style="color: #1a1a1a; font-size: small;">piece of hand blown glass during my stay</span><span style="color: #1a1a1a; font-size: small;">. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: #1a1a1a; font-size: small;">The</span><span style="color: #1a1a1a; font-size: small;"> </span><span style="color: #1a1a1a; font-size: small;"><span style="color: #1a1a1a; font-size: small;">barn-like double doors of this</span> </span><span style="color: #1a1a1a; font-size: small;">converted Firehouse, </span><span style="color: #1a1a1a; font-size: small;">remain o</span><span style="color: #1a1a1a; font-size: small;">pen all day long. Lovely glassware items are on display, perched on stands and lining shelves.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #1a1a1a; font-size: small; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-HpSl0r7SqLw/U1CQcjGFawI/AAAAAAAACos/Pnwwk24PO2A/s1600/float-500w-500h-165x165.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-HpSl0r7SqLw/U1CQcjGFawI/AAAAAAAACos/Pnwwk24PO2A/s1600/float-500w-500h-165x165.jpg" /></a></span></span></span> Passing by the shop, you tend to pause, and stare: A gloved instructor holds</span><span style="color: #1a1a1a; font-size: small; text-align: justify;"> </span><span style="color: #1a1a1a; font-size: small; text-align: justify;">a long</span><span style="color: #1a1a1a; text-align: justify;"> black steel rod, with red hot molten glass, bulging like a liquid </span></span></span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #1a1a1a; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"></span>balloon, at its distant tip. He</span><span style="color: #1a1a1a; text-align: justify;"> pokes these viscous glass blobs into hot fiery ovens, after first dipping the large unruly bubble-mass, into </span><span style="color: #1a1a1a; text-align: justify;">a bowl </span><span style="color: #1a1a1a; text-align: justify;">of colored chips. </span><span style="color: #1a1a1a; text-align: justify;">The swirls and hues of finished pieces need time </span><span style="color: #1a1a1a; text-align: justify;">to cool off, so they will be ready for pick-up, the next day.</span></span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-OYTzLnVLZgc/U04vna7kWbI/AAAAAAAACho/StBa79UVguo/s1600/Star+Store1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-OYTzLnVLZgc/U04vna7kWbI/AAAAAAAACho/StBa79UVguo/s1600/Star+Store1.jpg" style="text-align: center;" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-HpSl0r7SqLw/U1CQcjGFawI/AAAAAAAACos/Pnwwk24PO2A/s1600/float-500w-500h-165x165.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-HpSl0r7SqLw/U1CQcjGFawI/AAAAAAAACos/Pnwwk24PO2A/s1600/float-500w-500h-165x165.jpg" width="0" /></a></span><span style="color: #1a1a1a; font-size: small; text-align: justify;"> </span></span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">This old
fashion 'General Store' is a wonderland of enchantment. This country mercantile
has groceries and supplies of all sorts. I wandered through the artful,
eclectic, boutique area, checked out the trendy clothing, quality hiking boots,
and canning goods. I filled my cart with grocery items that I still needed,
while checking out the gifts and Kitchenware items, all in one magical
emporium. </span></span><br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vlVRCNv8Ifs/U1DfUjmW5hI/AAAAAAAACpQ/uMmcO5SNxPM/s1600/uselessbay.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vlVRCNv8Ifs/U1DfUjmW5hI/AAAAAAAACpQ/uMmcO5SNxPM/s1600/uselessbay.jpg" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"></span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Inside
the 'Useless Bay Coffee House' I found my writing nook. I sat
down and drank a cup of tea, tried one of the tempting pastries. And did
a little writing on my laptop. I would have spent endless hours here,
each day, if I'd had more time.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #1a1a1a;">This 'Disneyland' of a downtown, made me feel like a kid, from another era, on old fashion "Main Street'! Tourists can peer into shop windows</span><span style="text-align: justify;">
with lively displays, and meander along the alleys to explore the
secret alcoves, and enjoy the cherished art of lazy sight-seeing.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"></span></span></span></span>An old fashion movie theater, (that's been overlooked by time) sells popcorn, that still tastes fresh and natural. I went there to see GRAVITY when my new host-friends, James</span><span style="font-size: small; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;"> and Janet, who invited me to join them. </span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;">Just knowing that their downstairs </span>vacation rental (in my 'heaven on earth'</span><span style="font-size: small; text-align: justify;"> quarters) were waiting for me to return, I felt cozy and secure. </span><span style="font-size: small; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">In Langley, I became a kid again. The close-knit sense of belonging, with the funky array of shops and alleyways, </span></span></span>felt like home away from home! </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small; text-align: justify;">On our way back from the movie, we stopped at the home of a colleague, whose spacious environment was all-natural 'beam & board', inside and out. Seated around a big rectangular wooden table, in their country kitchen, they all 'talked shop', while I joined their awesome dog, </span></span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small; text-align: justify;">on the 'area-carpet' of the hardwood floor, nearby</span></span>. It was a delicious </span><span style="font-size: small;">taste of community life, surrounding Langley.</span></span></div>
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<!-- Blogger automated replacement: "https://images-blogger-opensocial.googleusercontent.com/gadgets/proxy?url=http%3A%2F%2F1.bp.blogspot.com%2F-OYTzLnVLZgc%2FU04vna7kWbI%2FAAAAAAAACho%2FStBa79UVguo%2Fs1600%2FStar%2BStore1.jpg&container=blogger&gadget=a&rewriteMime=image%2F*" with "https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-OYTzLnVLZgc/U04vna7kWbI/AAAAAAAACho/StBa79UVguo/s1600/Star+Store1.jpg" -->stephanie laurahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15658757016965844355noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1227049631778564359.post-8883772879059942682014-04-02T01:24:00.001-07:002022-01-30T00:32:01.269-08:00Behind The Blue Door<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>~ My Whidbey Island Adventure ~</b></span> </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><b>Part I: The Magic Portal</b></span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="clear: left; float: left; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: small; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-BPBg2UWZQ0I/UzZgARJKNrI/AAAAAAAABVY/cZmleoVr3Dg/s1600/IMG_20131021_211309_148.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">After fantasizing most of my life about running off to a '<i>deserted island</i>', I finally did it! I ran away to the land of my dreams. Originally, this was my mother's fantasy, but I apparently I became infected with it as well.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />So how was it? Well, for starters it wasn't deserted at all: it overflowed with life!</span></span>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />On the Island, behind
<i><b>The Blue Door</b></i>, a sacred abode awaited me. This adorable room held a secret that had been well hidden before my arrival. The Blue Door wasn't what it seemed. I would not discover this, however, until long after my return home.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">I was so excited about this get-away that I spent an entire week slowly </span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">packing. </span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">I
<span style="text-align: left;"> left our sleepy little mountain village, early that </span><span style="text-align: left;">morning, trading a peaceful </span><span style="text-align: left;">redwood corridor for the woes of morning rush hour on the Silicon Valley freeway. Then parking lots, shuttle bus</span><span style="text-align: left;"> rides,</span><span style="text-align: left;"> airport chaos, a bumpy jet flight, and </span><span style="text-align: left;">crowds galore.</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="text-align: left;">After landing at the Seattle airport, I stepp</span>ed off the plane fully prepared to enter <b><i>The </i><i>Magic Portal</i></b>, immediately. While lugging my heavy suitcase, I found my way to the rental car kiosk, ignorantly thinking I was, 'but a heartbeat away', from the Ferryboat that would take me to my Island. (on the map, everything looked so much smaller and closer!)</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Since I had ignored all the pre-wrapped snack bar food, while passing numerous airline counters, I was starting to get hungry--and inclined to feel sorry for myself. But something familiar intervened: One of my <i>secret powers. </i>(It's actually a force, an energy), which has the handy ability to totally obliterate the very IDEA that problems actually exist.</span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"> This simple 'acknowledgment' is how I tend to 'refresh my mind-browser'. It can instantly 'poof' such bad ideas right into thin air, with a calm smile.<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><i> </i></span></span></span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><i>Onward! We are almost there!</i> The Force suggested.</span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"> </span></span></span></span> </span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7PHwNyti4rQ/U0yWRxqsoEI/AAAAAAAACdA/PK8hIy4JpDg/s1600/bubble+.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7PHwNyti4rQ/U0yWRxqsoEI/AAAAAAAACdA/PK8hIy4JpDg/s1600/bubble+.jpg" height="150" width="200" /></a></span></span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="text-align: left;">Reconnected once again</span><span style="text-align: left;">--the 'smile upon my soul' was back! </span></span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="text-align: left;">The innate spirit of<i> </i></span><i style="text-align: left;">ADVENTURE</i><span style="text-align: left;"> had taken on a life of its own (which had been slowly spreading like
stealth wildfire, throughout my cells for weeks now), so </span>t</span></span>his dream-trip journey had acquired an ability to suffuse my whole being, with infectious promise!</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Driving through Seattle, my rental car tackled a massive urban sprawl that dwarfed any freeway in my home town. I survived late afternoon rush hour traffic, trying not to get lost, and having to change lanes amidst throngs of impulsive drivers, darting in and out. (On the map, everything looked so much simpler.) </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-9AsG2Owq6ok/VEfiFRTVhmI/AAAAAAAAHkE/zx7YPXsAwwk/s1600/1979380_10151945392506444_970437282_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-9AsG2Owq6ok/VEfiFRTVhmI/AAAAAAAAHkE/zx7YPXsAwwk/s1600/1979380_10151945392506444_970437282_o.jpg" height="296" width="640" /></a></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">I took
sanity breaks! One of Seattle's many 'university areas' had a Whole
Foods market. On a stop for something to eat (finally!), I strolled
around the neighborhood, drawing deeply upon the vitality, of all the
nearby 'college kids', who were out and about. Then I loaded up with
provisions before heading off </span></span>to the Island. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Finally, I found the Ferry Boat entrance, where an elaborate system, of waiting lines simply meant more hours must pass, before we would actually board the gigantic ship, but luckily, I had brought along my I-pod (with a full battery)! </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">While waiting in line, I tried to draw comfort, knowing that <i>eventually</i>, I would be delivered into Paradise with a blissful smile of satisfaction on my face! After all, I was on my way, at last, to the legendary Whidbey Island! But 'the <i>hoped for</i> <i>thrill'</i> simply could not find its way through the weariness that had begun to deflate me, as the wait dragged on.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-zFtgNHRl9CM/UzZa7YbLIgI/AAAAAAAABVI/Zw9nlwv8wbE/s1600/33173187_ferry-mtns2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-zFtgNHRl9CM/UzZa7YbLIgI/AAAAAAAABVI/Zw9nlwv8wbE/s1600/33173187_ferry-mtns2.jpg" height="426" width="640" /></a></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="text-align: justify;">At last, I was able to enter into the belly of this massive ship, where my car was dutifully sandwiched among rows and rows of vehicles. T</span><span style="text-align: justify;">otally</span><span style="text-align: justify;"> depleted by now, however, </span><span style="text-align: justify;">I had neither steam, nor stamina, left over, to even care about the view anymore; nor to get out and survey the scenery that slowly inched away behind us.</span></span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="text-align: justify;"> </span></span></span> </div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="text-align: justify;"></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="text-align: justify;">If I wanted to watch the coast of Whidbey Island draw imperceptibly closer, it would mean getting across to the other side of the ship. But I </span></span></span>literally could not budge from my seat inside the car. </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-RNA6x43WV4A/UzuzH-78FvI/AAAAAAAABdI/hdIEmyCSp7U/s1600/ferry.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: justify;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-RNA6x43WV4A/UzuzH-78FvI/AAAAAAAABdI/hdIEmyCSp7U/s1600/ferry.jpg" height="211" width="320" /></a></span></span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="text-align: justify;">Weary and dejected, I pouted all alone in my vehicle while others got out of theirs, to visit the snack bar. I stared blankly through large
open squares along the sides of the ship, as vista
views of the coastline lost its charm. The mainland grew more distant, while my stamina faded with every inch that crept between us, and the continent.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">My spot, near an open-air window, faced the land, that grew smaller in our wake. Early twilight began to play with the setting sun, the sparkling water, and the golden glow of the continent behind us. (So much for thinking I would still arrive with plenty of daylight to find my way!) </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">I just sat and stared off toward the Northeastern side of Seattle's proud skyline, where monotonous, dense forests blanketed the receeding shoreline. We inched along so slowly that it was not clear if our Ferry was really moving. It made no sound. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="text-align: center;">Exhausted by </span><span style="text-align: center;">long lines, chaotic traffic, endless miles, and all the extra hours </span><span style="text-align: center;">that had somehow slipped away, I just sat there, numb and weary. </span>One by one, lights began to twinkle from hidden seaside dwellings along the coast, as dusk closed in. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Finally we pulled into the Clinton Ferry Dock. So, I turned the motor on, and drove onto the island, where I unceremoniously followed the signs to Cultus Bay. Not exactly the glorious arrival I had imagined!</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Fortunately, the directions my hosts had given, to find the vacation rental were perfectly easy to follow. James, who commutes to his job at a Seattle university, met me in the driveway, when I arrived. Friendly and warm, he helped carry my luggage through their home and down the inside stairway to my own area. I met his wife Janet, a social worker, as I paused briefly in their living space upstairs. They were very sweet folks, within my general age range; so solid, kind, and settled, that it felt like I was coming home to family. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Once downstairs, and alone in 'my quarters', I just stood there. FEELING IT. Exotic and serene, at once. Better than the photos online. This refuge was vibrant and alive. The very space was saturated with life-force. My stunning view from the deck outside, overlooked the cozy harbor of Cultus Bay. It was an exquisite painting, come to life!</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">When
I first stepped through the threshold, and stood inside the rumpus room,
closing the door behind me, all I knew was that I felt safe, free, and
utterly, deliciously alone. Slowly, I began to inhabit these precious quarters, unpacking and setting up my new life. Moving my stuff into the intimate bedroom item by item, and allowing the space to remain prominent, as 'my things' found their niche in closet or shelf, until the idea of 'impact' became synonymous with order, function, and above all: invitation! <i>All you need to do here, is BE!</i> (this precious refuge whispered, over and over again…)</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-4K7I4c6ICFw/UzZxYYCpwGI/AAAAAAAABVo/qr__Q9kUdng/s1600/Lamplight+in+my+room+by+the+bay1.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-4K7I4c6ICFw/UzZxYYCpwGI/AAAAAAAABVo/qr__Q9kUdng/s1600/Lamplight+in+my+room+by+the+bay1.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></span></span></span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">A
perfect balance of 'nestled and vast' embraced me with loving arms. A
sense of limitless expanse, and warm shelter, permeated the territory
where I would reside. The hallway between kitchen and
bedroom was a corridor </span></span>of passage: an enchanted portal into 'my self' (something that had become lost across the decades). I set up my sweet little bathroom last of all, then surveyed my new world. And it was just right!</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Dwelling in a place with glass walls was a new experience. It was getting dark when I arrived. I stepped out onto the balcony overlooking the harbor homes, and docks. Lights were lit up along the scenic waterway, Reverence fell over everything. Stillness and beauty prevailed. The mainland was a blur of distant lights across the Puget Sound.</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">My first night demanded absolutely nothing from me. No thoughts of tomorrow, nor the life that I had left behind me. No plans of any sort. No time frame. No thoughts of Langley and the adventures that lay ahead, nor of my appointment to make a piece of hand-blown glass at Callahan's studio. Just sink into the warm comfort of bed and nothing more. The week that followed would bring delightful exploration, discovery, and just plain fun--but for that first night: merely sanctuary. And infinite permission… to do absolutely nothing but exist.</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">~ ~ ~</span></span></div>
</div>
</div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">If you want to see some of the magic this place does offer; here is a sweet video introduction. For me, it brings back memories of special places and times. Langley, <i>as the 'Heart of Whidbey' in my experience</i>, is where community gathers. It's also a lovely place to walk around in peaceful solitude.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/ecS9ofJVpTk?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">. . . To Be Continued . . .</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">video from: https://www.youtube.com/user/RoseRonler</span></div>
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stephanie laurahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15658757016965844355noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1227049631778564359.post-58451501070656976492014-02-26T11:37:00.002-08:002014-04-03T21:37:51.970-07:00 Manzanita Magic: An Oracle Dog-walk through The Sandhills! <div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-tNSjgza_OfI/UxaiSuPQtqI/AAAAAAAABD8/Ndf9bIoHlvY/s1600/Willy+face+in+black+halo1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-tNSjgza_OfI/UxaiSuPQtqI/AAAAAAAABD8/Ndf9bIoHlvY/s1600/Willy+face+in+black+halo1.jpg" height="317" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Back before he died; Willy and I took a
walk almost every day. Our little black mutt was a most precious family
member, and how he loved his daily walks! But on one particular morning, during our walk, I encountered something that invited me to take a significant turn in the direction of my life.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Willy loved the ritual
invitation almost as much as the walk itself. It was an ongoing game we
played: a family tradition. To whip him into an instant frenzy of ecstasy and wild excitement, you only had to <u><b><i>almost</i></b></u> say the magic phrase: <i>"Do you want to go for a-a-a-a-a . . ." </i>(then silence and a breathless interlude). His hyper-alert, furry form would
freeze--as if he'd been placed 'on hold'! Like the calm before the
storm, Willy's ears stood on sharp alert--his tail paused mid-air, in a
motionless trance of torture--while Life itself waited to hear what would come next . . . </span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Willy knew the word. His whole being had experienced it already, <i>inside</i>,
but until the humans finally relented, and finished their sentence, his
big chocolate eyes, would remain riveted on the verge of insane
dog-laughter. Until uttered aloud, it simply wasn't REAL! So, of course, we played our part by s-l-o-w-l-y teasing forth this sacred word-charm, at last! </span></span><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>"Do you want to go for a "<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b>WALK</b></span>?"</i> </span> </div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Once he did finally hear this <i>magic word</i>, out loud, the dam would burst!
Reassured that his high hopes were really true--he'd turn round and
round, in mad circles, unable to contain his thrill, prancing and
lifting himself up, excitedly, making happy dog sounds, as he bolted
for the door.</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">We
would each re-enact our role in this human/dog game, over and over again.
We all needed the medicine waiting for us, up on top of 'The Sandhills'. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div>
</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Fortunately,
our street dead-ends at the entrance to a rare and precious eco-system
of Sandy Hills and desert foliage. It's part of a tiny, unique, and
well-hidden greenbelt,
crisscrossed with delightful trails—well, it's actually more of a
white-belt! </span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Eon's
ago, when the ocean floor was uplifted, high into the Santa Cruz
Mountains, most of it became forest terrain, with Pines and Redwoods.
But this small section of The San Lorenzo Valley, managed to remain
exactly intact--like the Pacific shoreline it once was, with a
smattering of desert plants, and loose sand.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">The
Silver Manzanita resides here, it's root-feet
dug deep into hard packed
sand dunes.</span></span></div>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-6v2UkuiMxLA/Uw5DAYQqL6I/AAAAAAAABBA/EDS3cV_9KCc/s1600/Halseyeditorial2-sm.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-6v2UkuiMxLA/Uw5DAYQqL6I/AAAAAAAABBA/EDS3cV_9KCc/s1600/Halseyeditorial2-sm.jpg" height="443" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Silver Manzanita, Oak, and Madrone Embracing</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">The stately Madrone with it's bare and brazen branches is exquisite to behold. Dancing with the humble Manzanita--these two remain entwined, showing off their smooth red sheen of wooden limbs, protected by the sturdy old oaks. A
Moonlit stroll, up into these sandhills, reveals one of Earth's well-hidden treasures. At night, the ground beneath your
feet glows with incandescent moon dust! </span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Winding among petrified dunes, dusted with a light layer of loose powdery-white sand, an entire world of utterly unique fossils, flora, and fauna is tucked away. But it refuses to stay 'in place'. Fickle as the sand it's made of, everything shifts and alters easily. Change is constant. No wonder I love it so much up here! My known world is exactly the same.</span></span></div>
</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Metamorphosis is ongoing. Fortunately, I've always found it interesting. But I remember back, over a decade ago, when a particularly huge wave-swell hit. My marriage had ended abruptly, and it was easy to get caught in sudden undertows of loss and pain. Wave-swells would surge through without notice, pulling me beneath the surface, swift and hard. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">On one particular day, as Willy and I started off on our walk, I found myself growing weary of bracing against the tides. I discovered something interesting, quite by accident: Pain is patient. It resides politely within us, until we are ready to deal with it. But it was actually the modest Silver Manzanita bush, who helped me out, the most.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Meandering back down through these familiar hills that rise from the Valley floor, I ran behind Willy, trying to keep up, when a monster wave of angst took me by surprise. It felt utterly impossible to manage. So, I followed my little black mutt through the smooth white mounds, of this rare, endangered habitat--drawing comfort as if from an old friend who knows me well.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Then SUDDENLY, I realized what it was we shared together (this unique area of terrain: and me); I understood why I need its lessons NOW. This place is going extinct—rapidly before our watching eyes. While my life as I had known it, was also going extinct, as well.</span></span><br />
<br /></div>
<div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-JVlzASn7u50/UyNJVQ8thkI/AAAAAAAABGQ/uEhbOSCRAMM/s1600/Willy+by+Silver+Manzanita+circle.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-JVlzASn7u50/UyNJVQ8thkI/AAAAAAAABGQ/uEhbOSCRAMM/s1600/Willy+by+Silver+Manzanita+circle.png" height="316" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Willy, ran around exploring until he found a spot to
rest, while I stopped to admire a particularly vibrant specimen of
Manzanita.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Rooted in powdery sand, it's bearing was so majestic; so alive, that it
might suddenly begin to walk around. </span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Speaking directly to this lovely young tree , I shared my admiration. Silently, it listened. Soon I found myself
asking for advice, </span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i> “How does a plant deal with dying?" </i></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">The bush was rather surprised at first; but soon replied,</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> <i> “Cycles rather than endings</i><i>---that’s what we experience.”</i></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">So,
I pondered this and saw how my personal relationship to grief, mirrors
the plight of these lovely sandhills as they rapidly lose plants and
critters--while they continue to erode. They are being rapidly crowded out
by housing developments, while Life--as I'd known it--was slipping away as well.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i> “Both of us are in the business of dying.” </i>I explained, then I also</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> added,</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Z9xE21TnYyA/UyQcsq4loHI/AAAAAAAABHg/cuTtsRJwbsQ/s1600/Silver+Manzanita+on+sand+hill+round+frame.png" style="clear: right; float: right; font-style: italic; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><br /></a> <i> “And yes, for you it’s all about cycles </i><i>but for me this isn't just a </i></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i> cycle. </i><i>It’s an ending. You probably don’t even care, one way or </i></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> a<i>nother </i><i>about your future. But, to me, my future</i><i> matters </i></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i> tremendously</i><i>.”</i></span></span></div>
</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Taciturn it merely presided over the sunsets glow. I regarded its equanimity and remarked, </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-p3FVe8OwBa8/UzPOFJghXMI/AAAAAAAABT8/6E0ez-RMpuI/s1600/Silver+Manzanita+on+sand+hill+round+frame.png" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-p3FVe8OwBa8/UzPOFJghXMI/AAAAAAAABT8/6E0ez-RMpuI/s1600/Silver+Manzanita+on+sand+hill+round+frame.png" height="375" width="400" /></a><i> “Well, the truth is that neither of us is very</i></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i> </i><i>good with endings.</i></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> <i>You are blissfully</i></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i> </i><i><i> unprepared</i> and have</i></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i> no clue how to how</i></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i> to deal with them,</i></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i> </i><i><style><!--
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div.WordSection1
{page:WordSection1;</style>while I have been </i></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i> drawn to
endings all my life, without knowing why. </i></span></span></div>
<div>
</div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i> "In fact, our society in</i></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i> general, isn't so good</i></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i> with endings. We </i></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i> have overrun the planet the in our attempt</i></span></span><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i> to deal with </i></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i> pain, loss and grief. </i></span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">My lecture did not phase the lovely Manzanita, with it's intricate web of deep red branches, glowing through the silver-green foliage. It simply </span></span></span></span><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">presided over the area</span></span></span></span>. The next remark seemed to come out of nowhere:</span></span><i> </i></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> <i> “There will always be waves of pain.”</i></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">This sage-like insight was stated in a very calm manner. I can’t say it was the silver manzanita, but I can’t say it wasn’t. However, since I like to feel engaged, I grabbed onto the quality of the word w-a-v-e: sensing its pulse-like rush, punctuated with pauses. They did surge <i>through </i>me<i>.</i></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i><br /></i></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i> “Yes, its true.” </i>I agreed, then noted,</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i><br /></i>
<i> “Pain does have a beginning, a middle and an end. Like waves, it also tends to come and go."</i></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i> </i></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">What I glimpsed about waves of pain was a godsend as the waves would no doubt keep on coming. But this meant that I could breathe, rather than stiffening up, knowing that it’s always just <i>one wave at a time</i>. There's usually a break before the next one comes. And that could be manageable, if taken, just <b>one wave at a time.</b> I felt good about our conversation and turned toward home.</span></span></div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-nklt38sixJI/UyNK0SzH07I/AAAAAAAABGY/rMXuWFrtoAE/s1600/silver+manzanita+.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-nklt38sixJI/UyNK0SzH07I/AAAAAAAABGY/rMXuWFrtoAE/s1600/silver+manzanita+.jpg" height="393" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">There was something else though, as the prickly leafed red limbs of the manzanita grabbed at my sweater, inquiring directly,</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><i> “This business about dying. Aren’t you being given a chance finally, to do it right, this time?" </i></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">While I considered this wise advice, the Silver Manzanita paused for a moment, then it continued, </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"> <i> "Here is one of the most important relationship in your entire life and it is ending (changing). What if you put all the TLC possible, into making this a worthy ending? <u>Remember, you and these sandhills are not alone.</u> The planet is dealing with endings, Big Time, right now. </i><i>Welcome to the club!”</i></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"> "Thank you." I said. And as I bowed to my new friend, something heavy lifted from my spirit. We just never know where, or how, Life's wisdom might arise!</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">~ ~ ~</span></span></div>
</div>
stephanie laurahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15658757016965844355noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1227049631778564359.post-43285422819548710232014-02-09T18:06:00.003-08:002015-12-17T10:59:57.505-08:00Feelings: What are they for?<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">“To speak, </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">to ask to have audience today in the world,</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">requires that we speak </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">to the world,</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">for the world is in the audience;</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"> it too is listening to what we say.” <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><a href="http://beccatarnas.wordpress.com/tag/brian-swimme/#_ftn1"></a></span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"> James Hillman </span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><a href="http://beccatarnas.wordpress.com/tag/brian-swimme/#_ftn1">[1]</a></span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;">~ ~ ~ </span><br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-K_CGwTVxnMk/UwvWqzYK4jI/AAAAAAAAA_k/bcJEkdggSC4/s1600/17293159-an-illustration-of-a-cute-green-cartoon-alien-peeking-round-a-sign-or-banner-and-pointing-at-it.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-K_CGwTVxnMk/UwvWqzYK4jI/AAAAAAAAA_k/bcJEkdggSC4/s1600/17293159-an-illustration-of-a-cute-green-cartoon-alien-peeking-round-a-sign-or-banner-and-pointing-at-it.jpg" /></a></span></span>Sensing beings have 'feelers'. </span>Human feelers don't stand out on top of </span></span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">our head like antenna with little balls at the top. They are invisible. When our feelings want to reach outward, we speak, dance, run, laugh, cry or hide. We express feelings through our eyes, ears, skin, and proprioceptors. Without such inner sense organs, what we call 'feeling', simply wouldn't register. </span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<div style="text-align: justify;">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">It's this <i>miracle of connection</i> that everyone longs to feel! Feelings are 'two-way' entities. They want to be 'taken in' just as much as they want to be broadcast forth. If all feeling could be taken out of your favorite TV show, or movie, would you still want to watch it?</span></span><br />
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<div style="text-align: left;">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;">~ ~ ~</span><br />
<br /></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">When does a feeling stop being felt? Or become something different? Change into a thought? When do we shift from feeling something, into thinking about the feeling we just had? Or naming the feeling? Or analyzing the feeling? Or commenting upon the feeling? Or acting upon the feeling?</span></span></div>
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<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;">~ ~ ~</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">What might happen if we paused to CHERISH the feeling a bit longer, before moving on from it? </span></span><br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HV46x7UHXNw/UwvnTlJZ-qI/AAAAAAAAA_4/rE8S3gqe2xM/s1600/KBxwp.AuSt.156.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="133" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HV46x7UHXNw/UwvnTlJZ-qI/AAAAAAAAA_4/rE8S3gqe2xM/s1600/KBxwp.AuSt.156.jpg" width="200" /></a><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Childhood, for me, was a time of immersion. Sand. Wind. Running through sprinklers barefoot, in freshly mowed green grass: <i>inhaling</i> the pungent fragrance! </span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">It was a time to INDULGE feelings. </span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"> </span></span> </span></span></div>
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<div style="text-align: justify;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-KQbGE6CxZIE/UwvnQrzA_yI/AAAAAAAAA_w/Pg0SW4qO8PQ/s1600/6a010536b87d75970c0120a5183e03970b-500wi.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="215" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-KQbGE6CxZIE/UwvnQrzA_yI/AAAAAAAAA_w/Pg0SW4qO8PQ/s1600/6a010536b87d75970c0120a5183e03970b-500wi.jpg" width="320" /></a><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"> </span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Do you remember swinging? The feel of legs pumping to match the extent of the arc! The breeze caressing pink cheeks with each 'back and forth' sway. What about climbing a tree? Hugging the trunk and scampering over branches, while the world below was a completely different place than the one you'd known, while you were 'down there'!</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Recently, some friends were talking about how
feelings are just feelings--UNTIL we take the next step of adding
Interpretation onto whatever feelings we have. Or onto whatever feelings
somebody else might have. I had never thought about the fact that feelings DO indeed, rapidly turn into interpretation. How fascinating!</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I have been deeply attuned to the subtleties of "interpretation" ever since that conversation. This focus is
penetrating my experience like a magnifying glass. Because of
this, I keep hearing and seeing whatever is happening around me--with myself and with others--through the lens of this perspective. <b>First</b>: How does this FEEL?? (nothing beyond that...). Then,</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Where does 'feeling' end; where does 'interpretation' begin?</span></span><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">As I pay really, really close attention to the actual s p a c e that does exist, in-between<b> feeling</b> and <b>interpretation, </b>IT seems to <i>spread out.</i> It creates<i> </i>more room, and more breath, and more time, for CONTENT to register. Within such an atmosphere there is STILLNESS, which allows <i>thought</i> to emerge at a natural pace. </span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Within whatever space we might be sharing together; when this gap is not only
allowed to exist, but is allowed to be felt and to be extended a little
longer--something can come ALIVE, between beings whose feelings are
co-arising. The texture and the complexity of such terrain can be utterly
flabbergasting. So much exists therein.</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">As I notice how very much
actually exists between the lines of our words and our actions, it is
begining to amaze me how very MUCH is swirling and churning, within each
one of us. I find myself caught between awe, compassion, and a strange
sort of horror. The interweave of energy beneath all of these feelings
is so powerful and so strong, that it is a sheer miracle that we are
able to communicate at all!!!!!</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">To intentionally ALLOW
all that actually LIVES within this realm of FEELING, to be freely
experienced, silently honored, and somehow considered wholeheartedly,
BEFORE anyone responds at all, can be a 'yummy' thing to do, as well as
an 'alienating' thing to do. For myself, I often notice how my feelings
can lead to numbness or a sort of 'dial tone' on existence itself. It's
how I have learned to 'make myself safe' from the perceived dangers of
feelings. </span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">As
kids in an 'out of touch' culture, we have all imbibed so many subtle
(and not-so-subtle) messages about the 'danger' of having feelings and
the potential 'risk' of expressing them. We have learned this from
watching others and from interacting with them. And from seeing what
happens when thing 'go bad', as well as what 'seems to work'. This all
got programed into us preverbally, and it's not gonna go away. So now we
just get to live with it. And of course, it is gonna pop up all the
time, through our interactions with each other.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">~ ~ ~</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">The impulse to shift from FEELING into INTERPRETATION
happens almost imperceptibly, beneath the surface. We have all been so
conditioned to make this leap, that it seems to be 'part of the feeling
itself'. I've been looking closely at this phenomena in my own life
lately, and with those whose lives intertwine with mine. I find myself
leaping from feeling to interpretation automatically and believing it
before I realize what is happening. I see others doing it as well. It
happens almost instantly and we often fail to even notice the
transition. <b>Then we have believed the 'conclusion' that our
interpretation of a feeling, has led us to make.</b> And far too often, we are impelled into action before we have consciously registered any of this!</span></span></div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">~ ~ ~</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I am imagining a different world: One where, at that first
hint of a furrowed brow, or a slack jaw, with a sharp intake of breath;
or at that first sign of bracing, or of hope, that shows up on the
countenance of our friend or loved ones face: what if we'd all been
conditioned instead, to be alerted (not to protect ourselves), but
instead to become ever more intently and sincerely concerned about what
sort of FEELINGS might be surfacing behind the expressions and tone and
body language, of the one with whom we are trying to connect?</span></span><br />
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-uHPbHJ-VxY4/UwvWZri2vCI/AAAAAAAAA_c/SSahLiiJYBU/s1600/images-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-uHPbHJ-VxY4/UwvWZri2vCI/AAAAAAAAA_c/SSahLiiJYBU/s1600/images-2.jpg" width="200" /></a></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I don't know about you, but in my experience, what I saw
mirrored around me, ranged from auto-pilot, knee-jerk counter responses,
to a sort of frozen paralysis that made everyone's 'fight or flight'
system start to activate deep inside. People would tend to either go
into a shell, go into a reactionary mode, or occasionally someone would
remain calm, centered, and steady, as they became curious about what was
taking place. </span></span><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Those who did simply remain present, and were not threatened in any
manner, were able to provide a safe space, wherein others could relax.
And as soon as we humans feel relaxed and safe; as soon as we feel that
there is genuine interest and an inherent support toward WHAT IS, along
with the readiness to allow even deeper, hidden stuff to safely emerge
if IT wants to--then the entire atmosphere in a room can shift. </span></span></div>
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">PERMISSION is vitally crucial to safety. And yet even permission can
seem to invite uncomfortable (socially awkward or personally
threatening) energies to step forth into the arena. And what does our
society value most? Permission? Subservience? Direct expression? Not
rocking the boat? Comfort above all? Genuine response? Keeping the
peace? Sincere expression? Questions or revelations that expose
resistance? Discovering what another truly thinks, feels, or believes?
Conformity? Honest dialogue? Stones unturned? Avoiding conflict? Pecking
orders? Competition? Living vicariously through others or through
fantasy? Direct confrontation? Power? Strength in vulnerability?
Invulnerability? The list is endless. But consideration of the values we
have imbibed, and of the values we model as we interact ARE indeed
worth of exploration.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<a href="http://www.pinterest.com/pin/create/extension/?url=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.blogger.com%2Fblogger.g%3FblogID%3D1227049631778564359%23editor%2Ftarget%3Dpost%3BpostID%3D4328542281954871023&media=https%3A%2F%2F2.bp.blogspot.com%2F-KQbGE6CxZIE%2FUwvnQrzA_yI%2FAAAAAAAAA_w%2FPg0SW4qO8PQ%2Fs1600%2F6a010536b87d75970c0120a5183e03970b-500wi.jpg&xm=h&xv=sa1.37.01&xuid=f7oxpu2myRF_&description=" style="background-color: transparent; background-image: url(data:image/png; border: none; cursor: pointer; display: none; height: 20px; left: 359px; opacity: 0.85; position: absolute; top: 850px; width: 40px; z-index: 8675309;"></a><a href="http://www.pinterest.com/pin/create/extension/?url=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.blogger.com%2Fblogger.g%3FblogID%3D1227049631778564359%23editor%2Ftarget%3Dpost%3BpostID%3D4328542281954871023&media=https%3A%2F%2F2.bp.blogspot.com%2F-KQbGE6CxZIE%2FUwvnQrzA_yI%2FAAAAAAAAA_w%2FPg0SW4qO8PQ%2Fs1600%2F6a010536b87d75970c0120a5183e03970b-500wi.jpg&xm=h&xv=sa1.37.01&xuid=f7oxpu2myRF_&description=" style="background-color: transparent; background-image: url(data:image/png; border: none; cursor: pointer; display: none; height: 20px; left: 359px; opacity: 0.85; position: absolute; top: 850px; width: 40px; z-index: 8675309;"></a>stephanie laurahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15658757016965844355noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1227049631778564359.post-19987318853455342952014-01-11T01:09:00.001-08:002015-03-06T14:11:46.477-08:00WAKING UP TO WHAT WE ARE<div style="text-align: center;">
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" 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<b><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">PART ONE</span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> <i> </i></span></div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--TNNYIul5fA/Uy-Hm-eqbgI/AAAAAAAABQ0/YoMR1q8WV14/s1600/Woman+views+B&W+TV1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--TNNYIul5fA/Uy-Hm-eqbgI/AAAAAAAABQ0/YoMR1q8WV14/s1600/Woman+views+B&W+TV1.jpg" height="212" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I was 10 years old when I walked
out of our house, that morning. But </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; text-align: justify;">even </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">before the</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; text-align: justify;">front door slammed shut behind me, I heard </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; text-align: justify;">my mother's voice calling my name,</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; text-align: justify;"> </span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; text-align: justify;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<i style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; text-align: justify;">"Stephanie! Stephanie, get back in here!"</i><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; text-align: justify;"> Her tone was urgent, as usual.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Sitting in her well-worn spot on the couch, in front of our Black & White TV set, she recited the familiar list of chores, for me to do. S</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">oap operas took the highest priority, of course, so she handled that task, herself. She had a proactive approach to all the other stuff: she delegated.</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> </span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i>"Stephanie! Are the dishes done? Did you hang the wash out on the clothes line yet? Make sure your little brother lays down for his nap, would you?" </i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Mom directed me with precision, as if she held a remote control, with a special button that bore MY name. She was really good at pressing that button so no work would go unfinished, while she kept up with the current gossip on <i>The Guiding Light</i>. (My mother must have been an early visionary, </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">since, of course, remote controls had not yet been invented!)</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> </span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">For years, I had been really good at jumping up to do her bidding. But on this particular day, my body refused to WILT with obedience. It was HOW she said my name. Her sense of urgency reverberated through me: </span><i style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">"Stephanie! Stephanie!"</i><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> D</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">emanding instant response, this harsh</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">echo</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> felt jarring. It jolted through me, piercing deep into</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> the tissues and cells of my body</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">. I was running from the sound of my own name.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><b>"Stephanie! Stephanie! Come back here!"</b></span></i></div>
</div>
</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Ignoring her command, I kept on walking, without looking back. </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">My father had recently cut down one of our Eucalyptus trees. It lay across our acre of wild land, emitting powerful blasts of pungent resin. With the sound of her tone still ringing in my ears, I sat down on this log.</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> But something rankled in my mind. A crucial question began to fuel my resistance.</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> </span><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Y1zo9eprSew/UyiTzojmLXI/AAAAAAAABLE/1l4tuv5c_Y4/s1600/girl+on+log+(blurred+background1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Y1zo9eprSew/UyiTzojmLXI/AAAAAAAABLE/1l4tuv5c_Y4/s1600/girl+on+log+(blurred+background1.jpg" height="320" width="299" /></a></div>
<br /></div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i>Can this be WHO I am? </i>I wondered.<i> </i></span></b><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
</div>
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b><i>"</i><i><i>Stephanie?" Am I my name? Am I the person whom my mother beholds, when she calls me? Does the tone of her voice indicate who I am? B</i>ut 'Stephanie' is just a name. Just a word. Isn't it? How can this word possibly capture WHO I am? Surely, I am more than just 'Stephanie'? Surely none of us are
ONLY our names? But what ARE we then? Who am I? What am I, REALLY!?!</i></b></span> </span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Stuck
on this question, and feeling baffled, I
began to repeat my name out loud, trying to get behind what it meant.
Reaching for myself through different inflections than the one my mother had used, while seated on that log, my name became a mantra. Over and over, this </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">silent chant</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> of <i>'Stephanie' </i>continued, as if somehow, it might unravel this mystery. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">As the litany of my name </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">tried to bore its way through this burning question, I soon</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> found myself in "a place" of expansive spaciousness, a
sort of ‘QUIET’ that I’d never experienced. It soon opened into vast empty space
that was palpable and alive, yet empty. I sat with that for a bit.
I began to suspect that
there were no words for what “I” was (what we are). I got up from the log.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-8i379QTFnTQ/Ut1eYMMMaKI/AAAAAAAAA40/YubwwMzGcxw/s1600/pink+pearl+clusters+-+pepper+tree1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-8i379QTFnTQ/Ut1eYMMMaKI/AAAAAAAAA40/YubwwMzGcxw/s1600/pink+pearl+clusters+-+pepper+tree1.jpg" height="200" width="179" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Wandering through my yard, I climbed up the gnarly branches of a nearby pepper tree. I reached for a nearby cluster of pink-pearls, dangling from willowy green fronds. Very carefully, I pealed away the incandescent shell that enclosed each tiny seed, marveling anew, as each gem revealed its hidden nature. Afterward I was left with the sense that 'self' was much more than what everyone seemed to think it was.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Perhaps none of us were ‘our names’? I also ‘knew’ somehow, that
whatever I had ‘touched upon’ would be the same thing anyone else—asking
the same q</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">uestion—would also discover. I have never forgotten that moment because it was one of those
defining SHIFTS between past and future.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=1227049631778564359" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>PART TWO</b> </span></div>
</div>
</div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The next <i>major </i>SHIFT took place in a white wood-frame
house, on a </span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-JMj01930ZYw/Ut1bfg01PFI/AAAAAAAAA4o/QQjFYOn-4A8/s1600/peach-1.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-JMj01930ZYw/Ut1bfg01PFI/AAAAAAAAA4o/QQjFYOn-4A8/s1600/peach-1.png" height="200" width="191" /></a></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">street lined with sycamores. After my ceremony of
initiation into TM (transcendental meditation), the chipper young woman
who had given me my mantra, escorted me into a dark room where I sat
down repeating my mantra silently, to myself, until she returned.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Twenty minutes later she gently touched my arm, inviting
me to follow her back out of the room. I wondered why she’d returned so
quickly. It </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">felt like only a few moments had passed. I had melded with
the chair and could have just stayed there. I could not say ‘where’ I’d
been, nor ‘what’ had happened, but I cannot forget how
the sunset hues of the ripe peach she handed me, shimmered with beauty.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="clear: right; float: right; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"> </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Walking out of that house was like moving through liquid silk, each step </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="clear: right; float: right; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> </span></span></span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">a slow, deliberate miracle. Every leaf on the sycamore tree, that summer afternoon, was utterly awe-inspiring. It took me about 15 ecstatic minutes to eat that peach. </span></div>
<br />
<span style="clear: right; float: right; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"> </span>Driving was delightful; something
had turned the sound off in the world around me—It felt like everything
was happening in a vacuum. When I got home, my roomate told me that my
voice had never sounded so soft and serene before. My movements were more peaceful, my face looked different. In fact I was not at all
the person I had been up until that moment. And I liked this new person
waaaay better! Or I should say, I liked how everything was so much more
present, so precious, and so very unique.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> <b>PART THREE</b></span></div>
</div>
</div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-qBh9Tv6Qs20/UtB17tPggEI/AAAAAAAAA1Y/yEf1cl4l6O8/s1600/RN+scrubs+at+sink.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-qBh9Tv6Qs20/UtB17tPggEI/AAAAAAAAA1Y/yEf1cl4l6O8/s1600/RN+scrubs+at+sink.jpg" height="160" width="200" /></span></a><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Thirty years later, I was walking down the corridor of the hospital where I worked as a NICU nurse. They had just called the ER response team for a 35 week pregnancy. As the RN assigned to attend the high-risk deliveries, that day, I grabbed my green tackle box of supplies and walked at a brisk clip down the hall. I will admit that such moments have always terrified me (even
though it didn't show). So much could go wrong. The weight of responsibility was tremendous.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">On this particular day I had been ‘doing something’
different—something I’d learned bit by bit throughout that recent year,
while relating to my spirituality in an entirely new manner. I was
‘doing’ this at home, at work, with friends, alone, with
strangers—everywhere, all the time. It had allowed
me to step out of my life-long dysfunctional patterns. And now, as I
walked down that hall, I was doing it—even in the face of the most
challenging thing I have to deal with in my profession.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The ‘thing’ I’d been doing was to abandon myself to the present
moment with absolutely no energy going toward the past or the future. In
each instant I would do it all over again. I’d done it right up until
that instant when I was walking down the hall, and then when I realized
what I was doing, I wavered,</span></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<i><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">“But this is a matter of life and death—not one of your
‘mundane life’ moments! Isn’t it rather a risk to take such a stance at a
time like this?? To be with whatever arises, not trying to control it
or resist it? To remain free of worry or plans? How safe is that?”</span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">That's when it hit me. To take such a leap of faith is the only
way to know if something is REAL or not. If it’s really true, then it
must apply to everything, and to all situations. If it has exceptions
then it’s not actually true. So I decided to abandon myself to the
present moment then and there. I asked myself</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i> “What IS my present moment?”</i> The answer was obvious: <i>FEAR. DREAD. INSECURITY.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> “Well, then I will have to abandon myself to this…and that
doesn’t sound like such a good idea.” My dialogue continued (it was a
long walk down a timeless hallway).</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> “Is that the ONLY thing that’s happening at this moment?”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> “Well, I also have this simultaneous sense that I can totally
trust everything to work out. But that doesn’t have any basis in
anything I’m certain about.”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> “These are all thoughts about what might happen or what you have
felt in the past. What else is actually true in 'just this moment'?”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> “The only thing that I can really say is true <i>right now</i>, is that I am
walking down this hall. Alone. Hoping that everyone else will show up on
time and that everything will go well.”
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> “VERY GOOD! So abandon yourself to that!”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-uwgqQ1XOd7I/UtB3Jqes5cI/AAAAAAAAA1g/Umd1muSxHgo/s1600/personal-growth.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-uwgqQ1XOd7I/UtB3Jqes5cI/AAAAAAAAA1g/Umd1muSxHgo/s1600/personal-growth.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></span></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I followed my own advice and simply walked down the hall, knowing
that THIS MOMENT was the only thing REAL. And a strange
thing happened. I trusted it. It was deeper than trust, really. It was a
sense of being held, of knowing. Not of knowing anything in particular,
but just a reassurance from the universe, that in this instant I was
where I belonged, doing precisely what I was supposed to be doing.
Nothing more. There was strength and a certainty; a ’rightness’, and a
sense of being ‘in the Tao’, that I’d never known before. <i> </i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<i><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">It was like
that day on the log but this was taking it to a new and amazing level.
Words don’t touch it. They can only hint.</span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>PART FOUR</b> </span></i></div>
</div>
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">When I entered the delivery room I saw the entire scene in a
brand new way. It was as if the 'old me' was missing. Scanning the room
all at once, I saw the newborn 'warming table' well prepared, the team ready in
sterile garb, and the father holding his wife's hand looking excited and
scared at the same time. One of the doctors in blue scrubs made a warm,
yet playful comment and we all laughed. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">As I laughed, it was strange to
notice how--without the 'old me' (and its baggage of stress and
insecurity)--everything was unfolding within a spaciousness of freedom
and clarity. I could actually SEE the couple and FEEL their joyous
exhaustion. I could actually HEAR the playfulness and DELIGHT in the
doctors voice. At the same time I could fully LISTEN to the nurse who
shared some important patient data with us all.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">There was a noticable
absence of anxiety and a soft ease in the room. An aura of
trust engulfed the entire experience. The delivery went well. The baby
screamed, was healthy and needed no resuscitation. We did a brief
examination and placed him into his parents arms. Effortless innocence bathed everything. I was struck by the
utter absence of any self-consiousness whatsoever. Each one of us felt
like harmonious parts of a greater whole. I loved being there without
the 'old me'! She was not missed. She was not needed. Truthfully, I had
no need to encounter her again.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-lhFsueKxkjE/UtB4-aKrCoI/AAAAAAAAA1s/0oqFO1epqWQ/s1600/dad-and-newborn-baby-boy-1-1111659-m.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-lhFsueKxkjE/UtB4-aKrCoI/AAAAAAAAA1s/0oqFO1epqWQ/s1600/dad-and-newborn-baby-boy-1-1111659-m.jpg" height="200" width="140" /></span></a></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-jlx_hyVMXCM/UtB4-Tuw4jI/AAAAAAAAA1w/SS-v-3WMV10/s1600/images.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-jlx_hyVMXCM/UtB4-Tuw4jI/AAAAAAAAA1w/SS-v-3WMV10/s1600/images.jpg" height="133" width="200" /></span></a></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">PART FIVE</span></b></div>
</div>
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">For the next month or so, I remained “there”, oriented toward being fully
honest and present for ‘things as they are’. I continued to return in
each ‘next moment’ to the essence of what was happening at the core. I
remained free of the 'identity-based me' whom I've catered to all my
life. My interest was not oriented toward mind-chatter, nor
feeling-tone. But merely the acknowledgment of whatever was taking place. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">IT
was all part of a WHOLE that grew increasingly obvious the more I paid
attention to it. Any sense of separation or distinction (making me feel
that there was a need to choose between me or you, this or that, now or
later, right or wrong, etc.) all dissolved. There was only the ‘next
obvious thing to do’.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I could see, feel, and know, exactly what was needed. I would
hear myself saying something before my mind had weighed in on the
matter. It was all flow. There was no sense that I was ‘doing’ any of
this. It was life doing itself. "I" was no longer there. There was only
AWARENESS noticing, being, speaking, feeling, doing, loving (it was all
LOVE, unconditional, non-emotional, all-inclusive LOVE) and this love
did not distinguish between nice/ugly, good/bad, smart/dumb etc. It held
everyone and everything with an equal regard and an infinite support.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-U9pNvr3PF80/UtB64VIkx6I/AAAAAAAAA2I/ohgQrLmSIb8/s1600/images-2.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-U9pNvr3PF80/UtB64VIkx6I/AAAAAAAAA2I/ohgQrLmSIb8/s1600/images-2.jpg" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
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<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Sadness, death, loss, pain, fear, anger, confusion---the whole
host of human dilemmas were there. Compassion soaked through it all. Not in a sticky, dramatic way. It was clear that this AWAKENESS, this CORE
ESSENCE: <u><b>THIS</b></u> was clearly <i>what we all are.</i> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b> “What you’re looking for is what’s looking!“ </b></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><br /></b></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Clearly, the
AWARENESS itself was always ready to do exactly what was necessary. It
was very practical. And supportive. Any of us can be its agent. It is
there in every particle of existence. If we don’t get in the way of it,
then it acts effortlessly through us. This is what I discovered.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The one sense, remaining almost constantly, throughout this time, was
GRATITUDE. I was so touched by the grace (or whatever it was) that
allowed me to partake in such revelation, such beauty, such ONENESS of
being. It was a continual feast of gratitude and sometimes I felt that I
almost could not contain my joy and appreciation.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> <a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-GRur3UXKixQ/UtB64Qx7mpI/AAAAAAAAA2U/Qtq_zcJVSjA/s1600/images-3.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-GRur3UXKixQ/UtB64Qx7mpI/AAAAAAAAA2U/Qtq_zcJVSjA/s1600/images-3.jpg" /></a></span></div>
</div>
</div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Then, just as suddenly as this happened, just as unexpectedly as
it had begun; it ended. One moment I was just back to being caught up
like before, like most of us, most of the time. And according to the
teachers, and pioneers, of this territory, this ‘coming & going’ is
typical. Most of us are
WAKING UP gradually. The way it happens is different for everyone. Whatever any one of us is
doing right now, THAT is part of our path. We are all ON our way.
Nothing is left out of waking up. No one is left out.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i>Reprinted from previous publication @: </i><i>http://www.experienceproject.com/stories/Am-On-A-Spiritual-Journey/386900</i></span></div>
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stephanie laurahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15658757016965844355noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1227049631778564359.post-67232767053200003172014-01-07T15:35:00.001-08:002014-02-01T15:04:09.212-08:00Whidbey Island Snippets to Share!<div style="text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i><b>"We become visible and real when we give our gift </b></i></span></span></div>
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<i><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-5sqU1Th72tY/Usm9sbsvv7I/AAAAAAAAAzU/qLkEmQ87KDA/s1600/IMG_20131022_173508_884+Boy+&+Dog.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-5sqU1Th72tY/Usm9sbsvv7I/AAAAAAAAAzU/qLkEmQ87KDA/s640/IMG_20131022_173508_884+Boy+&+Dog.jpg" height="480" width="640" /></a></i></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><i><b><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span></b></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i><b><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i><b><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i><b>"and stop </b></i></span></span>waiting </b></i></span></span>for the gift to be given to us </b></i></span></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><i><b><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-QQ3YRePCvHI/UsTgOCl0UDI/AAAAAAAAAxU/WVnjZfJg4K0/s1600/Ferry+Picture+016.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-QQ3YRePCvHI/UsTgOCl0UDI/AAAAAAAAAxU/WVnjZfJg4K0/s640/Ferry+Picture+016.jpg" height="476" width="640" /></a></span></span></b></i></td><td style="text-align: center;"><i><b><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span></span></b></i></td><td style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><i><b><span style="font-size: small;">"We wake into our lives Again</span></b></i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><i><b><span style="font-size: small;">—as if</span></b></i><i><b><span style="font-size: small;"> for the first time </span></b></i></span></div>
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<i><b><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-FAlzkAwzVAk/Usm2615m85I/AAAAAAAAAy8/6PMB7Ol5e18/s1600/ClintonSign.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-FAlzkAwzVAk/Usm2615m85I/AAAAAAAAAy8/6PMB7Ol5e18/s640/ClintonSign.jpg" height="480" width="640" /></a></span></span></b></i></div>
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</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><b><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span></span></b></i></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><b><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span></span></b></i></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><b><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span></span></b></i></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><b><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span></span></b></i></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption"><div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><i><b><span style="font-size: small;">"laying to rest what previously had no home</span></b></i></span></div>
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<i><b><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ZmiWYpCkfhU/Usm3pGErwHI/AAAAAAAAAzE/0MfGpqAeyjM/s1600/IMG_20131022_174523_762.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ZmiWYpCkfhU/Usm3pGErwHI/AAAAAAAAAzE/0MfGpqAeyjM/s640/IMG_20131022_174523_762.jpg" height="480" width="640" /></a></span></span></b></i></div>
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<i><b><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span></span></b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><i><b><span style="font-size: small;"><i><b><span style="font-size: small;"><i><b><span style="font-size: small;"><i><b><span style="font-size: small;">"through beginning </span></b></i>to
speak, </span></b></i>beginning to make real, </span></b></i></span></b></i></span></div>
<i><b><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span></span></b></i>
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<i><b><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-tSUxVdJws4s/UsTejRTxtsI/AAAAAAAAAxA/AQNDfxriw14/s1600/IMG_20131022_131652_423.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-tSUxVdJws4s/UsTejRTxtsI/AAAAAAAAAxA/AQNDfxriw14/s640/IMG_20131022_131652_423.jpg" height="480" width="640" /> </a></span></span></b></i></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><i><b><span style="font-size: small;"><i><b><span style="font-size: small;">"and</span></b></i> beginning to live, </span></b></i></span></div>
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<i><b><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span></span></b></i></div>
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<i><b><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-syn1QmOztSw/UsmzghrlYmI/AAAAAAAAAyI/DiN1AMRnnnU/s1600/P1010028.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-syn1QmOztSw/UsmzghrlYmI/AAAAAAAAAyI/DiN1AMRnnnU/s640/P1010028.JPG" height="640" width="476" /></a></span></span></b></i></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><i><b><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></b></i></span>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><i><b><span style="font-size: small;">"those elements living inside us that long to move </span></b></i></span></div>
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<i><b><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"> </span></span></b></i></div>
<i><b><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span></span></b></i>
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<i><b><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-KiYobxFKye8/Usmtccx8OAI/AAAAAAAAAx8/JMX4Y2JR3Hk/s1600/IMG_20131021_211309_148.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-KiYobxFKye8/Usmtccx8OAI/AAAAAAAAAx8/JMX4Y2JR3Hk/s640/IMG_20131021_211309_148.jpg" height="480" width="640" /></a></span></span></b></i></div>
<i><b><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span></span></b></i>
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<i><b><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"> <span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">"from the invisible to the visible"</span></span></span></b></i></div>
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<i><b><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span></span></b></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"> <span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"> <span style="font-size: x-small;">(above captions quoted from the writings of David Whyte)*</span></span></span></span></i></div>
<i><b><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span></span></b></i>
<i><b><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span></span></b></i>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">S</span>ometimes,
in order to become visible, we need to make a radical departure from
our known, familiar reality. This vacation was designed to transport me into a totally different realm. When <i>'going thru the motions'</i> begins to feel more like <i>turning into stone</i>, it is LIFE's way of demanding a Wake-Up Call !!!</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">After pouring over websites about 'Whidbey Island' (</span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">legendary </span></span>homeland of renowned poet, David Whyte) I decided to go see these Elysian Fields for myself. After booking a flight, finding the perfect place to stay, and making an appointment for a private session to create my own piece of hand-blown glass upon arrival, I flew to Seattle. Boarding the Ferry boat and crossing the Mists of Avalon, on my way to the island was the peak moment of a sacred pilgrimage. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">The lovely hand-painted sign not only welcomed me--but ushered me directly into the pages of a brightly illustrated children's picture book. I become innocent again, stepping into Aliveness through this passageway to freedom, in a magic land where anything might happen!</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">From the enchanted Alleyways of Langely (a first grade reader village) to the picturesque harbor on Cultus Bay, setting foot on the Island brought dreamland vividly to life. My daily trek to town--from a home base overlooking sailboats docked beneath my deck--illustrated the array of delightful </span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">scenery painted across the pages of my</span></span> storybook village adventure. </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Disembarking from that Ferryboat, a Sanctuary of Permission embraced me, opening into refuge, delight and encouragement. Something was bestowed, which remains with me still, and the faces, places, and adventures, continue to gladden my life. It was much more than 'just a vacation'. Turns out my intuition about Whidbey Island was true. I have carried home a sparkling joy that will remain alive within my cells forever. </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">This is but a tiny peek into the splendors of this magic isle. </span></span><br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
<b><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><i><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></i></span></b></div>
<b><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><i><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></i></span></b>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: xx-small;"><i><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><b>*</b></span></span>( Haunted: Version II. ~ From the reader's circle essay series ©2012 )</i></span></div>
</div>
stephanie laurahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15658757016965844355noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1227049631778564359.post-10291398212943213192014-01-07T09:51:00.002-08:002014-07-10T17:12:46.758-07:00DARING TO BE ALIVE! (facing down guilt)<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-_sHco2Zgmz4/Usw4HohYklI/AAAAAAAAAz0/Lza3AbaejOk/s1600/Little+Girl+free+to+imitate+art1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-_sHco2Zgmz4/Usw4HohYklI/AAAAAAAAAz0/Lza3AbaejOk/s1600/Little+Girl+free+to+imitate+art1.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: 11.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">It
can happen at any time. A warning will come from 'out of nowhere'. It
can sneak up in a subtle way, or it can pierce me like a bolt of lightning. It tends to wait till I'm deeply absorbed in something--so much so, that existence fades into a blur. Inside and outside, both dissolve.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 11.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">As a kid, I would 'space out' and 'lose myself', while perched high on a
Pepper tree limb, peering absently through the scenery below. Or it would happen while sailing to and fro, in the old wooden swing, its long rope swaying from a high branch of the mighty </span></span><span style="font-size: 11.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Eucalyptus. Often I would disappear, while</span></span> staring
out the classroom windows, longing to escape the bondage of </span></span><span style="font-size: 11.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">wooden desks in </span></span>tense, orderly rows. Fully alive in spacious nothingness; just gone. Until the grip would bring me back. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 11.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">During
such moments of keen focused presence, when all objects of attention can cease to
exist--a jolt of admonition can suddenly surge through to
obliterate the safe space, and shatter the container of peaceful absence. It can masquerade as responsibility, wanting to make sure we are 'on our toes'. </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: 11.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Even now, for example, a silent pang of rude interruption can find me, at my writing desk.</span> It waits in the shadows, lurking like a thief, for that precious instant when Time ceases to exist. The moment, when there is no 'me', but merely fingers flying
over keyboard, as inspiration flows. That's when an ancient familiar grip might clench me (as if by the shoulders).
It takes hold, intruding upon easy comfortable space; to sound an alarm that was created by an ancient warning system: Take heed or perish!</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: 11.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">If it
had a voice it might say, <b>“Isn’t there something you should be DOING?”</b> (as if writing isn’t <i>‘doing something’</i>). Often, it will say, <b>“Who the hell do
you think you are?”</b> (that was HELEN speaking--my ever vigilant, deceased mother!). </span></span> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 11.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">This is—I suppose—something all humans experience; it is certainly not unique to me. It does feel, quite personal at the moment of disruption, however. As if IT knows precisely how to set off an interior alarm, that will grab my full and undivided attention. Initially, it arises as a hormonal jolt of adrenalin, and the need to “look over
one’s shoulder”, as if danger is stalking. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 11.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Just now, this ancient, familiar nudge seared through me with its built-in sense of urgency. The import was
one of caution. </span></span><span style="font-size: 11.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Like a hot prod sliding any stray coals into the center of the fire, it seems d</span></span>esigned to make me ‘catch myself’. Dread and concern, arise instantly—as if from out
of nowhere—having no specific point, nor purpose.</span></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-size: 11.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">It seems intent upon yanking me back, from
'being preoccupied' (as if that were a crime). It alerts a hidden warning system, which monitors life based upon
an impersonal code, designed to activate an ancient script. It serves as a mandate, caring only for conformance, utterly oblivious to creative freedom.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 11.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">But if I stop and take a closer
look, it isn’t even a voice. It’s an impulse in my solar plexus. A mixture of fear/dread/anxiety/guilt. Like I’ve been ‘caught’ doing
something that is irresponsible, a waste of time, and self-indulgent. </span></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: small;">WOW . . .
Caught daring to be ALIVE in my own LIFE!</span></b></div>
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stephanie laurahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15658757016965844355noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1227049631778564359.post-30257662194182621012013-12-01T15:47:00.000-08:002013-12-07T15:48:26.549-08:00Autumn into Winter: The Turning<div style="text-align: center;">
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<a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=1227049631778564359" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-mxI5co3Y86M/Upt1-BAKEmI/AAAAAAAAAtg/_fo8ymT12v4/s1600/Autumn+Leaves+in+Langley+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-mxI5co3Y86M/Upt1-BAKEmI/AAAAAAAAAtg/_fo8ymT12v4/s640/Autumn+Leaves+in+Langley+1.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">SEE WITH EVERY TURNING DAY<br />
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See with every turning day,<br />
how each season wants to make<br />
a child of you again, wants you to become<br />
a seeker after rainfall and birdsong,<br />
watch how it weathers you to a testing<br />
in the tried and true, tells you<br />
with each falling leaf, to leave and slip away,<br />
even from the branch that held you,<br />
to go when you need to, to be courageous,<br />
to be like a last word you’d want to say<br />
before you leave the world.</span></span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i> David Whyte </i></span></span></b><b><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i></i>*</span></span></b><br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-jPqbqIleyj8/Upu9I5_Wp8I/AAAAAAAAAt4/tvoRYFJChUU/s1600/Stephanie+first+grade+photo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-jPqbqIleyj8/Upu9I5_Wp8I/AAAAAAAAAt4/tvoRYFJChUU/s320/Stephanie+first+grade+photo.jpg" width="226" /></a></div>
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If only I could find such courage, such child-innocence, right now. I do remember how it felt. Aliveness seeping through each pore. Meeting the spectacle of Leaf Flurries and the taste of Fresh Air, upon opening our big front door to step outside. </div>
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Six years old and the entire outdoor world was enchanted! Drenched in early morning sunshine: steamy wisps of mist, rising from the mossy green fields to dance in shimmery golden light. Eucalyptus and Pepper trees. Blue Sky. Birdsong. Vacant lots. Wood Piles. Horses, sheds, and rabbit hutches. Cherishing this solitary wonderland with all my heart and soul. The old wooden bridge over the sandy wash.</div>
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While the family still slept in their beds, I vividly remember making those very first, fresh, crunchy foot prints across the crisp sheet of morning frost, that glazed the surface of our yard. And each next step was a brand new breaking of ground--just like the first one--over, and over, again. Starting anew. Stepping through the crust. On my way . . .</div>
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"...<b><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">to leave and slip away, </span></span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">even from the branch that held you, </span></span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">to go when you need to, </span></span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">to be courageous..."</span></span></b></div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-DijaIBQdIUQ/UpvFfgop9LI/AAAAAAAAAuI/QvoK5DxykzU/s1600/article-2114346-1224FF8C000005DC-369_634x667-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-DijaIBQdIUQ/UpvFfgop9LI/AAAAAAAAAuI/QvoK5DxykzU/s320/article-2114346-1224FF8C000005DC-369_634x667-1.jpg" width="304" /></a></div>
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Something about Life right now, wants to slip away. Wants to let go of the whole tree. Climb down from a bare branch, once full of leaves and sap. Something knows it is time to go. Time to find a hidden courage. To face the <b>Vast Unknown</b> without flinching.</div>
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What might that 'last word' be? Before leaving the familiar world behind? What would I want to say? What would want to be expressed <i>through</i> me? I no longer have any idea what 'the tried and true' even means. Certainly, courage seems elusive at best. Clueless is the closest I can come to describing where I am. I feel tested on every level. </div>
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Once, I thought I knew what I wanted (ultimately, anyway), and there was a dream inside, with something stable at the core of it's ever-shapeshifting nature. </div>
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It is important to pay attention to the branches: IF we do not know when to let go, LIFE steps in with it's saw, it's ax, and it's purpose. Without asking, LIFE can make swift, determined moves. I am not clinging to anything. Merely peering out the window as leaves turn red, yellow, brown, and flutter to the ground. If I put on my boots, or stepped outside, with my car keys; there would still be the same issue:</div>
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How to let go? And then there's the little matter of that 'last word'. But most of all, I have no idea what, where, why, when. There was a time when I did know all of those things. A time of certainty. A time when words never failed me. I don't know anything, anymore.</div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-r0Hqq00nE3M/Upu8LaTtJpI/AAAAAAAAAtw/qNUo6_1QAxs/s1600/candle+burning.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-r0Hqq00nE3M/Upu8LaTtJpI/AAAAAAAAAtw/qNUo6_1QAxs/s320/candle+burning.jpg" width="170" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">I JUST DON'T KNOW</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: xx-small;"><b><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">* Excerpt from ‘Coleman’s Bed’ in ‘River Flow: <br />
New and Selected Poems’<br />
©David Whyte and Many Rivers Press</span></b></span></div>
stephanie laurahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15658757016965844355noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1227049631778564359.post-18327388379541293172013-11-25T14:54:00.000-08:002013-12-07T15:50:10.879-08:00Connection Threads<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-dhn9FgOcXgs/Uo7ODHrI3DI/AAAAAAAAAr8/bBESKJyWWD0/s1600/tami+.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-dhn9FgOcXgs/Uo7ODHrI3DI/AAAAAAAAAr8/bBESKJyWWD0/s320/tami+.jpg" width="245" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">What actually happens when we feel excited, afraid, inhibited, or impelled by desire? In any room where there is a power-play going on, or flirting, a dynamic conversation, an argument, or quiet observation: we have a blend of very different fields of energy. If we could turn the picture into a representation of the actual waves, that comprise the people and the objects in the room; if our visual impression were to consist of these waveforms, instead of the solid bodies, present in that space, what would we see?</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Have you ever wondered what your own energy field might look like, if it were suddenly revealed to anyone who wanted to see it? </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">A most interesting array of colors, shapes, and substances would be seen colliding, merging, yielding, expanding, contracting, floating, flying, and continually changing form. Each impulse surfacing from some innate source, would swirl forth like living paint, creating the canvas of Life. But if all these various colors and forms refuse to stay put, they would simply spread, run, blend and bleed, unrestrained and fluid, until the original colors had totally ceased to exist and like a kalidescope, the ever-changing shapes and combinations, would continue to fascinate and compel the observant eye with their shapeshifting dance.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Between any two people who feel connected to one another, there is a chord, which vibrates. Invisible to most (except for those who can see energy fields). These 'connection threads' display the energetic vibrations, which actually pull these individuals together; and release them as they move apart. This thread consists of waves, (strings of light and energy being sent and received). Such waves can be felt, and they do change the shared fields of energy itself. The two separate energy fields will join and there will be a new, third field, created, as well. If we could SEE these chords of connection, they might seem like intertwined threads. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-hue3taji63I/Uo96TS_WPDI/AAAAAAAAAsQ/H4_ung9MasQ/s1600/Newborn+Matt+&+Mom+.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="250" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-hue3taji63I/Uo96TS_WPDI/AAAAAAAAAsQ/H4_ung9MasQ/s320/Newborn+Matt+&+Mom+.jpeg" width="320" /></a></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Being linked by touch, or through any of our senses, each individual will actually experience a sensation of 'the other' running through their being. We've all known how it feels to hear something another person tells us and immediately have a jolt of excitement, fear, aversion, or love, course through our body. Our entire being registers it, much like the voltage current that moves through electrical cords. There is power behind the energy of existing.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Such 'connection' can happen from across the room. It can occur as a result of a gaze from eye-to-eye; a tone that vibrates after someone speaks--or even more strongly and inexplicably, as a heartache or a memory that elicits hormones, which rush through our blood stream and tingle along our nerve tracks.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Whenever this happens there are no longer <i>merely</i> 2 separate, distinct individuals. There are 3 entities now: the energetic field of connection itself is a force field. It is created out of the interaction. In a room where the connection occurs, the 2 people can walk out of the room, yet, those who are sensitive, may walk into the room afterward, and FEEL the energy that remains: the third thing, which was created by the merging of two separate fields of energy. IT can affect the room and those nearby, as the vibrations of the recent interaction hang in the air.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">This is not imaginary. It is scientific fact. Simply because not all people can SEE energy fields, does not negate their existence. Those who are well aware of the power inherent in any connection, also strongly realize the importance of choosing which sort of energy one is willing to experience. This insight affects everything from choice of workplace, housemates, partners, and places, that one is willing (or not willing) to inhabit. A place carries an innate energy. A room may have it's basic energy level temporarily affected by someone who had an angry outburst there. A moment of tenderness and compassion can fill a room with soothing vibes, with an actual real and detectable impact on any occupants.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">The more aware we become of such factors, the more conscious we grow about our own ability--and choice--to remain open to <i>the energy</i>, wherever we find ourselves, or to intentionally protect ourselves from unhealthy forces. It would be an entirely new and complex topic to explore what sort of options and approaches exist toward such self-preservation.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Even if this is not something we have directly considered, there is an innate, unconscious tendency to monitor energy fields and readjust our own way of relating or behaving, in order to feel balanced and safe. There is the matter of 'giving & receiving', which plays a big part, as well. The more individuals we have in one space, the more complex the interplay of energetic fields will become. We often see this in a group where a strong advocate tries to protect someone who is being bullied or coerced by a more powerful or dominant individual. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">If we could see the actual waves in a room, where people are busy interacting, with a wide range of 'types' and a mixture of harmony and disharmony--it would be quite a colorful and perhaps chaotic canvas of shapes and form. </span></span><br />
<br />stephanie laurahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15658757016965844355noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1227049631778564359.post-42936058384139939782013-10-18T12:02:00.000-07:002013-10-22T15:56:52.659-07:00Pressing the PANIC Button<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-cqIBGuBa1fw/UmF8sCI4xjI/AAAAAAAAAo0/P4XcsJHmtm0/s1600/images-3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="165" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-cqIBGuBa1fw/UmF8sCI4xjI/AAAAAAAAAo0/P4XcsJHmtm0/s200/images-3.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Have you ever wondered whether or not you would press it? If you were seized with panic, and you saw one of these, what would you do? If you did push it, what might happen? What sort of response would you expect?</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Relieved to Wake Up, this morning, I opened my eyes from a dream, where I'd been gripped by a sense of panic (and I don't recall any reason for it). Along with the powerful effect of this emotion--in my dream--I'd been staring at a Panic Button on the wall. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">I was standing there deliberating over whether, or not, to go ahead and push the button. I was trying to gauge the extent of panic I felt; wondering if it was actually severe enough to set off this alarm? But I couldn't make up my mind what to do. That's when I woke up. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Immediately, I went online to find the exact button, that I'd seen in my dream. Row after row, of different panic alarms were featured. I asked my husband which one he liked best. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">"I don't like any of those because they don't look like they would work." he said, eliminating a series of rows with the sweep of his finger, "I'll take this one." He finally said, stopping at the one that's illustrated, above. I love his pragmatism. It never occurred to me that it might not work! </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">I am fascinated by the difference in our perspective: I wondered if I should actually push the button at all, and he wondered if it would work when he did push it. Neither of us said anything at all about WHAT we expected to happen, IF we did set off the alarm. But there was an underlying presumption that if it worked, then some sort of response would follow.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">The most interesting thing about my dream, however, is what ended it. It was my <i><b>serious deliberation</b></i> about actually pushing that panic button, which jolted me AWAKE. When we ask for help, it doesn't really matter what form our 'asking' takes. Our plea is heard <b><i>because</i></b> we asked. On the verge of non-specific panic, I was rescued from dreamland. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Isn't it similar in waking life? Whenever we avoid panic, or anxiety, or pain, it festers. As soon as we face it and begin to pay serious attention (however this might manifest), the pattern begins to shift. The tightly wound fist in our chest begins to loosen and the fingers begin to relax and open. This allows the issue, itself, to breathe, and our feelings can gradually expand into the space that is created. Whether 'the issue' is visible or invisible, infusing space into any dilemma allows perspective to expand. It 'clears' the air. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">The panic button offers us a way to officially acknowledge--and validate--the seriousness of our circumstance, or impulse. Contraction can only have power over us if there is no way for the tightly held energy to relax and release. It does not matter whether the perception of danger is real or not. The importance lies in our response. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Opening to what's terrifying us, in the first place, is the starting point. Peeking behind the veil of our panic is the only way to do this. Our sense of curiosity may be utterly stifled by our terror. This can make it seem that we are powerless with no way out. When we feel helpless to take steps on our own, then naturally we look outward for assistance. </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">A hand held out to take hold of ours, in return, can offer permission to explore even the most paralyzing fear imaginable. That's why Panic Buttons exist. They simply take a more human form, when we turn to each other--being there to care, to reach out, and to connect. </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Perhaps its not about how the button looks, OR 'if the button works'. Maybe the very idea of a panic button, is simply a way to give ourselves permission to NEED something. Or someone. And to admit this is to press the invisible button with the force of our yearning... </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Such permission is always just a push of the 'button' away!</span></span><br />
<br />stephanie laurahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15658757016965844355noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1227049631778564359.post-45224716360080620412013-10-13T20:05:00.001-07:002013-10-18T14:34:25.879-07:00WHIDBEY ISLAND DREAMS<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-DE41Ejt8B6g/UlsmeH5FeVI/AAAAAAAAAok/AqOu57QAb1w/s1600/IMG_3078.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="235" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-DE41Ejt8B6g/UlsmeH5FeVI/AAAAAAAAAok/AqOu57QAb1w/s640/IMG_3078.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">http://westcoastbrit.blogspot.com/2012/08/whidbey-island.html</span></span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>"<span style="color: black;">Obsession by potentiality."</span></b></span></span><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: black;">BUSTED! I've been almost drunk on 'potential', on the verge of losing myself in fantasies of <i>'what might be'</i> for a month now.</span><span style="color: black;"><span style="color: black;">
My island getaway on Whidbey Island is just a week away and I don't
want to ruin it by riding the runaway horse of Imagination. Today I saw an astrology column that said this:</span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="color: black;"> </span> </span></span></span></div>
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;"><span style="color: black;">There's such a strong sense of potential in the air, </span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;"><span style="color: black;">it's a bit
difficult to stay on track </span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;"><span style="color: black;">with current reality. </span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;"><span style="color: black;">The mind and heart
continue </span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;"><span style="color: black;">to want to live in the possibilities that lie ahead." </span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;"><i><span style="color: black;">Pam Youngans</span></i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">www.northpointastrology.com</span></span></i></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">But how can you not be excited? Or not have images flash through your mind? I have dreamed of going here for years. My aunt is in an Extended Living center in Seattle. I'm going to visit her, while having this getaway as my homebase. Why not? Sometimes I wonder if the 'real vacation' is this time I've spent longing and imagining it all. I have done so many things and gone to so many places. I have inhabited my downstairs unit and it wasn't even raining in my fantasies (although it probably will be during the time of my actual visit!!!).</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">We've all had the anti-climatic experience of building something up so much that it's a huge let down when the real thing arrives.</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">But I'm good with whatever it might be. This whole adventure (going off by myself, to <i>'places unknown' </i>and discovering whatever I discover) IS THE TRIP. So it's not about what I find when I arrive<b>--</b>as if THAT might bestow happiness. It's marveling at the moment-by-moment wonder <i>AS Deep Presence </i>saturates every instant of the journey itself. </span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">By <i>being</i> each moment (something I'm learning to do in life anyway) there's no horizon ahead and no wake behind. It's all just 'this wave cresting'. And what an amazing moment each one of them IS, from such a vantage point!</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I am keenly aware that this 'problem' doesn't actually exist, anyway, since there can be no 'future that might be ruined, nor any 'dreams come true' that might unfold. There is only and always this one single, infinite and irreplaceable moment. And IT carries no charge whatsoever--to the extent that we fully experience it (fully ARE it). </span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Fully showing up for this 'one & only' moment means being so totally IN and OF it--that any evaluation or measurement, any proclamation of worth, can only occur before/after the actual instant. Because the actual instant is uniquely, simply, & exclusively WHATEVER IT IS. </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Being such Deep Presence, eclipses the tendency to 'lose our self' into identification with whatever's going on. This does not imply a self-immersed stance that becomes polarized, nor distanced, in any way. It's just the opposite. We become THE FLOW itself, rather than somebody who is focused upon 'the particulars' or 'the predicament'. </span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Trusting this--because it's what I find to be true throughout the moments of each day--eliminates concern, anxiety, and energy spent falling into the temptation of fantasy OR reverie, whenever it offers its allure of promised reward. </span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
</div>
stephanie laurahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15658757016965844355noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1227049631778564359.post-88533376912231199482013-10-02T09:54:00.000-07:002013-11-03T00:12:18.969-07:00TYPICAL STANDARDS<style>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-If31WOXuhbQ/UkxO-lIteRI/AAAAAAAAAoQ/yHhupJe4eeM/s1600/images.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-If31WOXuhbQ/UkxO-lIteRI/AAAAAAAAAoQ/yHhupJe4eeM/s400/images.jpg" width="369" /></a></div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Geneva; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">If I don’t ‘pick
up’ the scripts that say </span></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Geneva; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I need to judge something, </span></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Geneva; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">or feel bad/good about it, </span></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Geneva; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">problems fall away at an alarming rate! </span></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Geneva; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> </span></b></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">It’s
been a year since I retired</span>. </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span></span><span style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">
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</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">A sort of easy relaxed acceptance of my laissez-faire
existence is settling over me. It doesn’t feel good or bad. It’s just how it
is. It is a relief to simply admit that I am content with life as it is.
YES, of course--in a perfect world--there are things I would change if the push of a button could make it so, but since it won't, I’m good with it
all: AS IS. Whew--can it really be this simple!</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">
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<span style="font-family: Geneva; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">I
do not live my life by typical standards. Rarely have I done so, if ever. Even
as a kid, I harbored secret fears that I might be “found out” if anyone really
ever knew what my days were like, my family, my heart, my thoughts, or my
dreams. But how many of us actually DO live our lives by 'typical standards? Is there really any such thing as 'typical'? </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: Geneva; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"><br /></span></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: Geneva; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">What if 'typical' is just a scare-tactic word, created by an insecure society hoping to reign in those who dare to question the status quo, rattle the cages, or break familiar molds?</span></span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: Geneva; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: Geneva; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">Solitary time has always been my refuge.</span></span></span> I grew up in an atmosphere of turmoil at
home, and crisp order at Catholic school. FREE OPEN SPACE was what felt REAL to me.
It was the territory where I thrived. It was wide open and utterly lacking in
judgment or demand—like the acre of land we bought when I was 6 years old.</span> </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Growing up in the company of Eucalyptus trees, like a grateful weed, roaming vacant lots, my brother and I were wild and every day was an adventure. You could still see the purple mountains in the San Fernando Valley because Smog wasn't a word in our vocabulary yet. (see <a href="http://eucalyptusdays.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">Eucalyptus Days</a> for a peek into that world!) After 40 years in the work force (and I count 40 hours a week at school as part of 'work force') having a couple decades to do whatever one likes--seems fair. I am relishing retiement! </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Next month I'm flying to the San Juan Islands to fulfill a life-long fantasy of escaping to a place of solitude and freedom. I can do whatever I want with the 'money & time' that I've saved up. WOW. There are no more standards to cage me in. I'm home again...Look our Werld: Here I come!!!!</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span></span>
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Geneva; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">
</span></b>stephanie laurahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15658757016965844355noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1227049631778564359.post-28408662144901871472013-09-02T17:21:00.000-07:002013-09-22T10:17:02.194-07:00FRIENDSHIP & ROMANCE: Flirting with Quicksand<div style="text-align: center;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span class="def-body" rel="http://www.ahalmaas.com/glossary/unfoldment/approaching-the-fullness-of-what-we-can-be'"><b> </b></span></span></span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span class="def-body" rel="http://www.ahalmaas.com/glossary/unfoldment/approaching-the-fullness-of-what-we-can-be'"><b>T</b>he closer we get to our true nature, </span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span class="def-body" rel="http://www.ahalmaas.com/glossary/unfoldment/approaching-the-fullness-of-what-we-can-be'">~ the pure essence of Being, the source of the current ~ </span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span class="def-body" rel="http://www.ahalmaas.com/glossary/unfoldment/approaching-the-fullness-of-what-we-can-be'">The FULLNESS of what we are, </span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span class="def-body" rel="http://www.ahalmaas.com/glossary/unfoldment/approaching-the-fullness-of-what-we-can-be'">potential becomes actual. <span class="def-body" rel="http://www.ahalmaas.com/glossary/unfoldment/approaching-the-fullness-of-what-we-can-be'"> </span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span class="def-body" rel="http://www.ahalmaas.com/glossary/unfoldment/approaching-the-fullness-of-what-we-can-be'"><span class="def-body" rel="http://www.ahalmaas.com/glossary/unfoldment/approaching-the-fullness-of-what-we-can-be'">As unfoldment occurs </span></span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span class="def-body" rel="http://www.ahalmaas.com/glossary/unfoldment/approaching-the-fullness-of-what-we-can-be'"><span class="def-body" rel="http://www.ahalmaas.com/glossary/unfoldment/approaching-the-fullness-of-what-we-can-be'">the </span>current glows</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span class="def-body" rel="http://www.ahalmaas.com/glossary/unfoldment/approaching-the-fullness-of-what-we-can-be'"> more luminous, </span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span class="def-body" rel="http://www.ahalmaas.com/glossary/unfoldment/approaching-the-fullness-of-what-we-can-be'">more
radiant, </span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span class="def-body" rel="http://www.ahalmaas.com/glossary/unfoldment/approaching-the-fullness-of-what-we-can-be'">more alive.</span><span class="def-body" rel="http://www.ahalmaas.com/glossary/unfoldment/approaching-the-fullness-of-what-we-can-be'"><i> </i></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span class="def-body" rel="http://www.ahalmaas.com/glossary/unfoldment/approaching-the-fullness-of-what-we-can-be'"><i>A.H. Alamaas </i> <a href="http://www.globalonenessproject.org/library/interviews/love-indiscriminate">**</a></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-viyfcEd7r_k/UiP0B9XwkwI/AAAAAAAAAmI/6dO1RpKfZJs/s1600/2011-friendship-day-collection+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="512" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-viyfcEd7r_k/UiP0B9XwkwI/AAAAAAAAAmI/6dO1RpKfZJs/s640/2011-friendship-day-collection+2.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">What would we do without each other?? <span style="font-size: small;">Nothing</span> rivals the thrill of finding a new friend and
tumbling into the glow of getting to know one another! Typically, we think of
friendship, as being platonic. Sometimes 'friendship love' turns into 'romantic love'. Sometimes romance becomes platonic. Sometimes <span style="font-size: small;">they are one and the <span style="font-size: small;">same.</span></span></span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>FEELING SAFE </b></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">Most friendships are 'safe' because such lines are clear and
obvious. But we never know if there's a sinkhole, unless the ground beneath
us suddenly turns to quicksand.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Being friends, means being free. No need to monitor, nor
hide, any facet of self-expression. Making a new friend means stepping out into
the open ‘as you are’, feeling safe and experiencing 'home', <i>no matter what</i>. Each
person is allowed to be exactly himself/herself. There is wonderment at each
new revelation. Delight springs from a sense of merging
with the very current of unfoldment,
itself. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">Friends bypass labels and attributes. Age, gender,
lifestyle, relationship status, and <span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">diffe<span style="font-size: small;">rent world views</span></span>,</span> become irrelevant. The whole idea
of 'friend' implies a bond, way more vast—and all inclusive—than romance. It
means trust, and an openness that won't backfire on either one of you. Friends
don’t hold each other to the scrutiny of boundaries like lovers often tend to do.</span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><b><span style="font-size: small;">BEING VULNERA<span style="font-size: small;">BLE</span></span></b> </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: small;">True Friendship means that nothing can stand in the way. An open ticket to be <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">exactly as you are,</i> is part of the deal.
Romance can impact friendship precisely because it obliterates the open ticket.
No matter how 'evolved' one might be: the possibility exists, that a beautiful
friendship can be hijacked by romantic energy. If so, how will good friends
weather the prospect of failed (or successful!) romance? </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">What sort of mixed signals might arise when heart-energy no longer aligns with the current 'operative plan'<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">? When something shifts somehow, do we resist or explore this? Do we take it personally<span style="font-size: small;">? Do we <span style="font-size: small;">want <span style="font-size: small;">to understand? <span style="font-size: small;">Are we willing to <span style="font-size: small;">dance with <span style="font-size: small;">shifting energies? <span style="font-size: small;">What if it hurts or sca<span style="font-size: small;">res us?</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span> </span></span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">It<span style="font-size: small;">'s all just LOVE anyway.</span></span></span><br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-1I8eP6bxO10/UiP0BaU2mgI/AAAAAAAAAmM/yW9SoED4Hyk/s1600/Squirrel+Courtship.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="238" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-1I8eP6bxO10/UiP0BaU2mgI/AAAAAAAAAmM/yW9SoED4Hyk/s400/Squirrel+Courtship.jpg" width="400" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">The essence of that first blush!</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">Being vulnerable with our new friend--is all about <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">THE MYSTERY
! </b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">The novelty of someone</span> 'brand new' tantalizes, like an irresistible
gift-wrapped package. The art of seeking, revealing, and reciprocating, is not
limited to humans. This ancient adventure is at the heart of LIFE itself! It is
impossible to distinguish Lifeforce from the 10,000 things it
creates!</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><b>THE IMPULSE TO CONNECT</b></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">Have you ever gotten to know a dog? They tend to be utterly
unguarded and they carry their part of the conversation with overwhelming
eagerness. Dogs aren't called "man's best friend" for nothing! I
think if we use our dog-friendship's as the template, we'll do just fine. They
NEVER stop being there for you. And they never feel threatened by any lack of
attention on your part. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-woc847D-5VQ/UiQlRu1P9HI/AAAAAAAAAmk/O0aJohcfCfQ/s1600/Willy-dog+&+me.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="281" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-woc847D-5VQ/UiQlRu1P9HI/AAAAAAAAAmk/O0aJohcfCfQ/s320/Willy-dog+&+me.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">Rather than view others as 'competition', (or mope and feel
neglected) dogs become excited. They only ask to be right in the middle of the
interaction along with everyone else! Their innocence may well contain the key to any potential
dilemma. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">Dogs only have one agenda: connection. Whether or not it happens,
where it might go, and what sort of outcome it has--are not even considered. This
impulse to connect is available to one and all. Dogs grasp the fact that <span style="font-size: small;">we</span> exist
for the sheer exhilaration of merging energy fields. Even a split-second will
do. There are no strings and there is always and only this one sacred moment.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><b>TH<span style="font-size: small;">RI</span>LL OF DISCOVERY </b></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-z5JgWb_mLdA/UiP0CJc5ymI/AAAAAAAAAmQ/I6QOPC3Awds/s1600/friendship-celebrate-girls-hd-wallpaper-1920x1200.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-z5JgWb_mLdA/UiP0CJc5ymI/AAAAAAAAAmQ/I6QOPC3Awds/s640/friendship-celebrate-girls-hd-wallpaper-1920x1200.jpg" width="640" /></a> </span></div>
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<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">The more we know about someone, the less curiosity we have. As we accumulate 'information' it becomes far too easy to put each other in a box, thinking that if I know stuff about you, then I know you! (Not to minimize <i>the stuff<span style="font-size: small;">!</span> </i>Such tidbits highlight the THRILL of discovery, itself!) But the real question is, <i>How well do we ever <u>really</u> 'know each other'?</i> </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: small;">It is easy to project our own images, dreams and fears onto one another--but friendship sees through all of that, more deeply than romance does. Friends allow 'the stuff' to be there<span style="font-size: small;">. Trust</span> endures <span style="font-size: small;">almost any hurdle. The 'best' & the 'worse<span style="font-size: small;">' are <span style="font-size: small;">understood to be momentary flare ups within a vas<span style="font-size: small;">t continuum of genuine appreciatio<span style="font-size: small;">n. <span style="font-size: small;">Dep<span style="font-size: small;">th of understanding <span style="font-size: small;">e<span style="font-size: small;">mbraces <span style="font-size: small;">idi<span style="font-size: small;">idiosyncrasy, and <span style="font-size: small;">dissolves misunderstanding.</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">Recently, at a social gathering, with people, whom I am still just getting to know, I responded to many of their questions quite frankly (as I generally tend to do with
people) but afterwards I wondered if that was such a good thing. Perhaps this makes it to easy for others to think they know what box I belong in. And there is so
much more they don’t know. </span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><b>SALT & PEPPER</b></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">The 'information stuff' we share, between each other (that makes us different, or alike) can give false impressions about connection. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">There is equal risk, however, in holding out or standing back. If we wait too long, or fail to reach out in some personal way--it might make us seem aloof, superior, or utterly lacking any interest. Being unapproachable is just as dangerous as coming on too strong. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">Romance is not just for lovers. Any friendship 'worth its salt' is peppered with romance throughout the duration! I have always erred on the side of too much love. Being <a href="http://www.globalonenessproject.org/library/interviews/love-indiscriminate">'an indiscriminate lover of what is,'<span style="font-size: small;">***</span></a> I tend to fall in love with trees, dogs, bridges, sunsets, and people, all the time. I highly recommend this!</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">From that 'first blush' of meeting, until the final farewell at the end of a long happy life of staying in touch and making a huge difference--friendship offers us infinite opportunity to spice up life. To play. To court. To applaud. To surprise. And yes, to grieve...</span><span style="font-size: small;"> </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: x-small;">** </span><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Quote by <a href="http://www.ahalmaas.com/glossary/unfoldment" target="_blank">AH Almaas </a>(Potential of Unfoldment</span>) -- I took the liberty of rearranging the order of this quote for 'poetic effect'</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">*<span style="font-size: x-small;">***</span></span><span style="font-size: x-small;"> </span><span style="font-size: x-small;"><a href="http://www.globalonenessproject.org/library/interviews/love-indiscriminate">Adyashanti</a> (3 minute video: "an indiscriminate lover of what is")</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span></div>
stephanie laurahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15658757016965844355noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1227049631778564359.post-32268511317643038192013-07-15T13:36:00.000-07:002013-09-22T10:22:35.132-07:00What have you done with The Garden?<div style="text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b><i><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); text-align: left;">Whatever gets in the way </span></i></b></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b><i><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); text-align: left;">of the connection to </span></i></b></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b><i><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); text-align: left;">our own soul</span></i></b></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b><i><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); text-align: left;"> may need </span></i></b></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b><i><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); text-align: left;">to go. </span></i></b></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Gwv_H-n11dE/UeSAy48UB8I/AAAAAAAAAjc/9bibHIW8L3s/s1600/Dove+in+flight+%28cloud%291.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="220" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Gwv_H-n11dE/UeSAy48UB8I/AAAAAAAAAjc/9bibHIW8L3s/s320/Dove+in+flight+%28cloud%291.jpg" width="320" /></a> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b><i> </i></b></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b><i>~ THE WIND ONE BRILLIANT DAY ~</i></b></span></div>
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b><span style="margin-left: 1em;">The wind, one brilliant day, called</span><br />
to my soul with an odor of jasmine. </b></span></span><br />
<blockquote>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b><span style="margin-left: 1em;">“In return for this jasmine odor,</span><br />
I’d like all the odor of your roses.” </b></span></span></blockquote>
<blockquote>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b><span style="margin-left: 1em;">“I have no roses; I have no flowers left now</span><br />
in my garden… all are dead.” </b></span></span></blockquote>
<blockquote>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b><span style="margin-left: 1em;">“Then, I’ll take the waters of the fountains,</span><br />
and the yellow leaves and the dried-up petals."</b></span></span> </blockquote>
<blockquote>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b><span style="margin-left: 1em;">The wind left… I wept. I said to myself:</span></b><br />
<b>“What have you done with the garden entrusted to you?”</b></span></span></blockquote>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>by Antonio Machado</i><i> (Robert Bly Translation) </i></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-1LvUxf1-X88/UeSQw6VkrHI/AAAAAAAAAjs/5z6nQ2N_aoY/s1600/images-13.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-1LvUxf1-X88/UeSQw6VkrHI/AAAAAAAAAjs/5z6nQ2N_aoY/s1600/images-13.jpg" /></a></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Suddenly, this poem feels all too real. Standing on my porch, this morning--I heard my soul say the words out loud, at last:</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> The garden, entrusted to me, is DEAD. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">With deep heart-sorrow, I can no longer remain silent about what is happening. Dry, yellow weeds have replaced the lush lawn, and the verdant foliage. It was once a wonderland, inhabited by Life and Love. Now, this <a href="http://writingwhatsreal.blogspot.com/2011/11/tree-poem-michelle-taransky.html"><b>Entrusted Garden</b></a> (of house and grounds), feels like a Wasteland. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">When we moved here 20 years ago--a hopeful young family of three--we were thrilled to find this lovely home 'For Sale' in the mountains. It would be our first home that wasn't a rental. Our son liked living on a dead-end street, with hiking trails that led up into the 'sand hills' (a very special ecosystem that once lay at the bottom of the ocean--back before some radical tectonic plate activity!). </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Now our son is a grown man; his father is planning to retire soon, and I have been retired for nearly a year now. Where did the time go? Somehow,<b> </b>there was never enough time 'left over' to tend to the Garden. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">The yards, the infrastructure of house and decking, and the dynamic of interrelatedness itself--have all deteriorated. I've lived too long with my head in the sand and now its time to reckon with Reality.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Over the busy years of working, homeschooling our young son, then seeing him through high school and college, the fabric of Life--like any comfortable, old T-shirt, got ragged around the edges. Remaining sparks of old dreams, flickered out. Eventually, <b><i>'The Parents'</i></b> had very little in common with each other. Our personal interests had diverged--but the one thing that the 3 of us have always done well together, is FAMILY!</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
The luster of dreams can so easily be swallowed up by tedious tasks, and inevitable misunderstandings. Struggling through a 35 year marriage, my husband and I tried various approaches. Being good friends who lived separately from time to time, seemed to work best for us, however financial need, keeps conspiring to bring us back under the same roof, in this house, that we are still 'mortgaged to'.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />Our son lived on his own, after studying film in college. He and his roomates networked to share jobs and contacts for work in their field, until the ecomony collapsed and the free-lance job market dried up. Finally, he ended up back home, too--a camera man for local TV news, doing a scaled down version of the film work he studied for. Each one of us has our own separate living area, within the house. This way, we manage to coexist pretty well, while sharing a common space. I often hear of others, who are doing the same sort of thing now-a-days. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><img alt="http://us.123rf.com/400wm/400/400/_ella_/_ella_0806/_ella_080600037/3145351-dandelions-blowing-in-the-wind.jpg" class="decoded" height="143" src="http://us.123rf.com/400wm/400/400/_ella_/_ella_0806/_ella_080600037/3145351-dandelions-blowing-in-the-wind.jpg" width="200" /></span></span> </div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> You
must be willing to give up </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">the smallness of your story</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> for the vastness of your
true essence. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Every moment you have a choice</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>Debbie Ford</i></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i> </i></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i> ~ ~ ~</i></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i><br /></i></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">An inner fountain flows at the heart of every growing thing, but when we ignore these living waters, and fail to tap into their bounty--then Life itself, tatters at the edges.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">It's easy to lose heart, when our 'outer world' dis-integrates and transforms into something different. We can choose to shift with the energy, or resist it. It's not always easy. But, I find that </span><span style="font-size: small;"><i>shifting with change</i>, does open new options. Time and circumstance have their own ideas. I have done my share of arguing with Life; lamenting outcomes, and resisting the pain that disappointment can bring.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">I notice, however, that whenever I acknowledge pain, and meet it--rather than resisting--something softens. It becomes much easier to embrace disappointment, and open up to <i>Life's Adventure</i>. Doing so, presents the perpetual mystery of <i>The Great Unknown!</i></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Machado wrote this poem about <i>Wind and Gardens,</i> from a state of deep grief, upon the death of his new bride at the tender age of 18, from Tuberculosis. Bly points out that Machado's poem "...starts with his personal garden (small "g"), but at the end,
he's speaking to his soul about a greater Spiritual Garden (capital "G")."</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">There is a sense of stability I live by, which is always seeking to follow the river's course. My world is rich with natural wonders right outside our doorstep, a broad circle of fantastic friends whose own unique worlds overlap with mine, and a dynamic community of kindr</span><span style="font-size: small;">ed spirits,</span><span style="font-size: small;"> </span><span style="font-size: small;">whose</span><span style="font-size: small;"> vibran</span><span style="font-size: small;">t energy brings precious </span><span style="font-size: small;">joy</span><span style="font-size: small;">. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Once a week I volunteer to work at a spiritual organization, which actively supports acknowledging things 'AS THEY ARE'. I notice how doing this makes a beautiful difference for those who dare to drop the mindspin, and labels, we tend to add <i>on top of </i>whatever simply happens. This 'volunteer day' is the highlight of my week. As I drive 'over the hill', it feels ironic to be taking the very same commute I once took to my former workplace--at a large county hospital--before my retirement. But instead of arriving at a tense, demanding, high-tech environment, I enter into a calm, sweet atmosphere--filled with awesome individuals, who are becoming dear friends. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">So, the garden nourishes me, as I nourish it. It's a cycle that reciprocates. I did finally water the front yard last nite. I'll water the back yard today. But it will only mean having green weeds, instead of straw-colored weeds! I make continual choices about where my energy will go and what activities take the highest priority. The impetus for deciding is based upon Aliveness, and Meeting what LIFE presents, without abdicating my own authority.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Bly emphasizes that quite often, ". . .
confessional poetry fails to achieve psychic weight (IF) it stays in the personal garden.
Psychic weight does not require catastrophe. But it needs to point less to our ego and more
to a cosmic sense of our true Self."</span><span style="font-size: small;"><b> </b></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span>
<br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>What have you done with the garden entrusted to you?</b></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-dAZd1Ma203o/UeSv8ZzGJ5I/AAAAAAAAAkM/HvCPVYhidmQ/s1600/tumblr_m8belp6Dh61rqn48ro1_500-1.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="133" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-dAZd1Ma203o/UeSv8ZzGJ5I/AAAAAAAAAkM/HvCPVYhidmQ/s200/tumblr_m8belp6Dh61rqn48ro1_500-1.jpg" width="200" /></a></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> <i style="text-align: left;">“It always seems impossible until it’s done."</i></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i style="text-align: left;">~ Nelson Mandela ~ </i></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times;"><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></span>stephanie laurahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15658757016965844355noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1227049631778564359.post-1096309790081519452013-07-10T01:34:00.000-07:002013-09-22T10:30:06.186-07:00Blue Shoes for the Wedding !!<br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-VjLjyxkb63Y/Ud0UW9rLaaI/AAAAAAAAAi0/eRXDom8M4vI/s1600/IMG_20130709_235706_907.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-VjLjyxkb63Y/Ud0UW9rLaaI/AAAAAAAAAi0/eRXDom8M4vI/s400/IMG_20130709_235706_907.jpg" width="300" /></a> </div>
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Each Present was carefully wrapped<br />
& tucked into the splashy bag<br />
from<br />
'Fresh Produce' </div>
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<i>(love those lively colors!)</i></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">The wedding is still a few days away. My dear friend's son, & his girlfriend, will be married at a place called The Family Farm, in the hills of Woodside. It was such fun picking out their presents at the ZEN store in Capitola, then wrapping them in pinks & blues (with old-fashion crinkly paper ribbon that you curl with scissors). Layed out beside my clothes on the bed, are the perfect pair of matching shoes! I found them at "Bunny's" on Pacific Avenue!!</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">. . . time to tuck away . . . </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">. . . this happy array . . . </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> . . . of fanfare . . . </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">. . . go to bed . . . </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> . . . fall asleep at last . . . </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">. . . dreaming . . .</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">. . . of lovely promise . . . </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">What is it about weddings? Why do they offer such delight and hope? How do they tug at our heartstrings so strongly? Even if we have a hard time conjuring up images of truly happy couples (married or not), there is a sacred twinge that one feels at a wedding ceremony. Is it the refusal of our human spirit to give up dreaming? To hold onto hope and delight? To keep wanting to believe in something beautiful? No matter what . . . </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">I set out to find a 'classy', elegant yet simple, 'nice & normal', wedding present (preferably one single vase--or something like that). I found an elegant silver-shimmery picture frame but it wasn't enough. Then, a candle in a frosty jar with a thick glass lid, and a wax-like-seal on top (but made of silver). And three really important toys: a refrigerator magnet with something sappy for newly weds, a bottle of bubbles with the plastic bubble blower inside, and a jigsaw puzzle. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">But this puzzle is different. Instead of painted cardboard, it's made from one of those plastic pictures kids love to look at: that substance, which gives the impression of action or movement when you angle it, slightly from side to side in your hand: material that gives a sort of <i>'view-finder effect'</i> changing the picture you see, as the angle shifts. What ARE those things called???</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Weddings are all about angles: setting the stage for <i>'dreams come true'.</i> Photographs. The right pose, stance, flowers, gown, hairstyle, vows, music, food, and feeling. About the guests (the audience/witnessing) and pumping energy into the happy couple. Dancing, celebrating. A ceremony to look back upon and show your friends and maybe your kids, someday.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Maybe that last irresistible 'gag' puzzle-gift, was actually the most significant of all. It is so hard for me to just do the 'proper simple thing'. Toys are extremely important. They keep us young. I can see the two of them at a table while it's raining, putting the jigsaw pieces in place TOGETHER 40 years from now. They just didn't have any vases that were good enough.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">But its really all about the shoes!!! Blue shoes to match my new blue skirt. Did you notice them?</span></span><br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-D-5NAvT1Gu4/Ud3eQN5W8sI/AAAAAAAAAjE/PRuOBYw1XLs/s1600/Blue+Shoes.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-D-5NAvT1Gu4/Ud3eQN5W8sI/AAAAAAAAAjE/PRuOBYw1XLs/s200/Blue+Shoes.jpg" width="156" /></a></div>
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stephanie laurahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15658757016965844355noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1227049631778564359.post-76270972102761320332013-06-19T02:34:00.000-07:002013-09-25T02:41:30.981-07:00Beyond the bounds of what we 'KNOW'<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">(10000 Awake)</span></b></div>
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</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/--W4ckRMp0eM/UdHhcIapyhI/AAAAAAAAAiM/kaA4XXBbyVQ/s736/fc95d0119d1636c85e97d7fc29be86f9.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/--W4ckRMp0eM/UdHhcIapyhI/AAAAAAAAAiM/kaA4XXBbyVQ/s320/fc95d0119d1636c85e97d7fc29be86f9.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.photoshopcreative.co.uk/image/39723/peace_and_tranquility"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">website link for photo</span></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">As long as I can remember, I've felt drawn to 'get to the bottom of things'. To reach beyond initial impressions. There have been moments when <i>'beyond'</i> took me all the way through <i>(and into)</i> the boundless territory, of <b>The Unknown</b>.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">On such occasions--much like 'Alice in Wonderland'--I've discovered a surprising 'place', with no words and no dimension. The following video snippet, is me try<span style="font-size: small;">i</span>ng to put words to it anyway! </span></span><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">~ ~ ~ </span></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><a href="http://www.youtube.com/user/10000Awake?feature=watch"> Maurissa Afanador </a>has produced a series of video-interviews where folks describe their own transformative experience of profound insight, or gradual realization. She captures the unique flavor of each individual encounter--as it embraces a common thread--something I imagine you might also recognize in yourself. </span></span><br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"> </span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><a href="http://www.youtube.com/user/10000Awake?feature=watch">10000 Awake</a> is a lovely site where these stories are available to enjoy. You may have something to add--or simply be curious to view some of these homologous, yet uniquely personal, experiences. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/%3Ciframe%20width=%22560%22%20height=%22315%22%20src=%22http://www.youtube.com/embed/aHyGs9I21V4%22%20frameborder=%220%22%20allowfullscreen%3E%3C/iframe%3E">
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="344" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/videoseries?list=PLRN7gXmQwtNwzQ6KVQWrkxcnvoFXZvR0L" width="425"></iframe></a></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div>
stephanie laurahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15658757016965844355noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1227049631778564359.post-85635693745899961732013-06-01T01:54:00.001-07:002013-06-01T01:56:44.864-07:00Invitation to BE<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-93TQ-Xeufew/Uam2jtYqFhI/AAAAAAAAAgA/oRi8y4Lj-eQ/s1600/7d19e485163e26b32bcc28801dbfb980.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-93TQ-Xeufew/Uam2jtYqFhI/AAAAAAAAAgA/oRi8y4Lj-eQ/s320/7d19e485163e26b32bcc28801dbfb980.jpg" width="255" /></a></div>
<br />
<h5 class="uiStreamMessage userContentWrapper" data-ft="{"type":1,"tn":"K"}" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}"><span class="userContent">"...Making
ourselves visible </span></span></span></span></h5>
<h5 class="uiStreamMessage userContentWrapper" data-ft="{"type":1,"tn":"K"}" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}"><span class="userContent">arranges for a different kind </span></span></span></span></h5>
<h5 class="uiStreamMessage userContentWrapper" data-ft="{"type":1,"tn":"K"}" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}"><span class="userContent">of disappearance </span></span></span></span></h5>
<h5 class="uiStreamMessage userContentWrapper" data-ft="{"type":1,"tn":"K"}" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}"><span class="userContent"> into
the work, the task, the audience, </span></span></span></span></h5>
<h5 class="uiStreamMessage userContentWrapper" data-ft="{"type":1,"tn":"K"}" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}"><span class="userContent">the life that opens up, where the
fearful one </span></span></span></span></h5>
<h5 class="uiStreamMessage userContentWrapper" data-ft="{"type":1,"tn":"K"}" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}"><span class="userContent">who first dreamt </span></span></span></span></h5>
<h5 class="uiStreamMessage userContentWrapper" data-ft="{"type":1,"tn":"K"}" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}"><span class="userContent">is burned away by anticipation </span></span></span></span></h5>
<h5 class="uiStreamMessage userContentWrapper" data-ft="{"type":1,"tn":"K"}" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}"><span class="userContent">and a living
contact with a future </span></span></span></span></h5>
<h5 class="uiStreamMessage userContentWrapper" data-ft="{"type":1,"tn":"K"}" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}"><span class="userContent">we might want to call our own…</span></span></span></span></h5>
<h5 class="uiStreamMessage userContentWrapper" data-ft="{"type":1,"tn":"K"}" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}"><span class="userContent">making ourselves
visible enables us </span></span></span></span></h5>
<h5 class="uiStreamMessage userContentWrapper" data-ft="{"type":1,"tn":"K"}" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}"><span class="userContent">firstly to be found </span></span></span></span></h5>
<h5 class="uiStreamMessage userContentWrapper" data-ft="{"type":1,"tn":"K"}" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}"><span class="userContent">and then invited in, </span></span></span></span></h5>
<h5 class="uiStreamMessage userContentWrapper" data-ft="{"type":1,"tn":"K"}" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}"><span class="userContent">by the world
we desire..." </span></span></span></span></h5>
<h5 class="uiStreamMessage userContentWrapper" data-ft="{"type":1,"tn":"K"}" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}"><span class="userContent"> <i>David Whyte </i></span></span></span></span></h5>
<h5 class="uiStreamMessage userContentWrapper" data-ft="{"type":1,"tn":"K"}" style="text-align: center;">
<span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}"><span class="userContent"><i> </i></span></span></h5>
<h5 class="uiStreamMessage userContentWrapper" data-ft="{"type":1,"tn":"K"}" style="text-align: center;">
<span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}"><span class="userContent">Adapted from <br /> Crossing the Unknown Sea: <br /> Work as a Pilgrimage of Identity. <br /> Riverhead © David Whyte</span></span></h5>
stephanie laurahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15658757016965844355noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1227049631778564359.post-41070573465374091912013-05-20T12:14:00.004-07:002013-07-01T14:06:32.555-07:00Double Exposure Matrix & Buddies in the Vastness<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Thank goodness for 'buddies in the vastness', who 'grok' how Life can be warped and slippery. Being able to email such friends--and know they won't think I'm nuts--is a tremendous sanity refuge. I just sent the following message to one such friend:</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: small;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: small;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-GsKaYlbSGHM/UZple8ppXWI/AAAAAAAAAfs/ECJQl0lAJK8/s1600/Stef+double-exposure+Lake+Livingston.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-GsKaYlbSGHM/UZple8ppXWI/AAAAAAAAAfs/ECJQl0lAJK8/s320/Stef+double-exposure+Lake+Livingston.jpg" width="269" /></a></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">". . . although life is pretty much unchanged, I find myself relating to it differently. I
guess the best thing I can say about this latest 'energetic place', is that my reaction TO Life, is shifting somehow. It's not so much
an actual <i>reaction </i>at all. I'm just not being drawn to 'take on' (or 'buy into')
the ole' mind-spin, about <i>what something might actually mean</i>. There is no inclination to 'make sense' of life. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">(come to think of it, Life doesn't try to 'make sense' of itself...so what makes me think I should try to do it?)</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<br />
<i><b>T</b></i><b><i>he texture</i></b> is sharpening into focus. What occurs,
is fully experienced with nonchalant curiosity, as it unfolds. There is a sense of deep Presence, a full involvement with whatever is happening. And yet, there is the simultaneous 'overlay' of impartial awareness, registering it all. </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">But what seems <i>most</i> strange, doesn't
exactly have words to describe. </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Reality does not feel like
its old normal 'self'. Instead of <i>conforming</i> as it always <span style="font-size: small;">did--</span>the grid itself, is misbehaving<span style="font-size: small;">. Nothing</span> appears quite the same<span style="font-size: small;"> anymore</span>. It's like seeing sideways through this life we live, and
recognizing how it isn't exactly solid. How it refuses to behave itself; acting more like a prankster with a playful propensity toward distortion, and
illusion. <br />
<br />
Then, when I try to FIT <b>"my life"</b> into a perspective of one familiar sort, or
another, the 'joke' becomes all too apparent: Reality has no intention of
holding still! It can't. It's simply not made of the sort of concrete, stable,
fixed, or reliable notions that we tend to take it for. It doesn't acknowledge familiar divisions, or connections, between people and things. It messes with our attempts to keep time and space the way we <span style="font-size: small;">want it to be</span>. </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">What's worse: There is a part of
me that doesn't even care, and doesn't even need to find such paradigms of 'the
known', in the ways it once did. So that, now, this sort of 'YES' to a wholehearted embrace of 'the unknown' feels like
flirting with insanity or instability. But I can't help feeling more 'at
home' in this 'YES', than anywhere else. <br />
<br />
Well, I'll just stop here--that's enough of an attempt to put words to the
intangible fluidity of Life."</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
stephanie laurahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15658757016965844355noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1227049631778564359.post-84559031241590433372013-04-08T13:31:00.000-07:002014-02-27T09:40:18.802-08:00WHICH ONE DO I WANT? (THE TORTURE OF CHOOSING)<div style="text-align: center;">
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">Creativity is not about doing. Creati<span style="font-size: large;">vity is about being.</span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></span> </span></span></span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody></tbody></table>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-B1DugEiKNUw/UWMe9tlQLoI/AAAAAAAAAeA/HF_FL4LX81E/s1600/images.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-B1DugEiKNUw/UWMe9tlQLoI/AAAAAAAAAeA/HF_FL4LX81E/s400/images.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I can't make up my mind!</span> </span></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br /></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody></tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">How o<span style="font-size: small;">ften do we see a child stand before <span style="font-size: small;">an ice<span style="font-size: small;">-<span style="font-size: small;">cream </span></span></span></span></span></span>counter torn with
anguish? Unable to choose between an infinite array of colors and flavors?<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">We
must first encounter our longings, in order to make a selection. </span></span></div>
</div>
</div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span>
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</style><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">It isn't easy
to grapple with the fact that we can't <i>'have it all'</i>. For my small son it was painful anguish--not mere
deliberation--but cruel pressure, with no easy solution. Even while eating his ice cream, he would still be questioning his decision. </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">The process of selection raises issues. Choosing can
appear to close doors. If we want it all NOW, the mandate to limit ourselves to
just one, and one alone, can raise strong feelings, rooted in much deeper
territory than we might realize.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">"Even if you seem </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">to have to make a choice,</span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">don't choose based on the circumstances;</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">Choose whichever option </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">aligns itself most</span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">with your preferred state of being.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">Your circumstances are handled for you</span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">by a level of your consciousness</span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">that has far more awareness</span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">beyond time and space."</span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>Bentinho</i></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i> </i> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">What does it really mean to choose based upon circumstance? How often do we even consider <i>'our p</i><i>re</i><i>ferred</i><i> s</i><i>tate of bein</i><i>g'?</i> Even if we have strong convictions; even if we are deeply committed to a clear trajectory--how often do we tune in to see whether or not we are ALIGNED with what we truly value?</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">This suggestion that our consciousness will handle our circumstances makes sense to me. I've always had an inherent trust in Life. There does tend to be an inner pattern, which operates effortlessly, when I do not get in the way. And yet this pointer reveals a subtle grey-zone, which can easily become obscured when the need to CHOOSE arises. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">To consider where we are <i>'choosing from</i><i>'</i> is not a crossroad that gets much airtime; certainly such<span style="font-size: small;"> a</span> <span style="font-size: small;">focused<span style="font-size: small;">,</span></span> intentional approach is rarely modeled, nor encouraged. It seems that Choice more often <u><span style="font-size: small;">drive</span>s US</u>, rather than seeking to take <b><i>its orders</i></b> from some guidepost, within us. Our attention is quick to deliberate, but slow to decide. Our decision<span style="font-size: small;">-</span>making often tends to happen subconsciously, as our action <span style="font-size: small;">responds to</span> a<span style="font-size: small;">n</span> <span style="font-size: small;">irrational, intuitive urge</span>. </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">This only becomes a problem IF we feel uneasy about being 'left out of the loop'. Being unable to remain fully present throughout the whole process, can leave us feeling gypped. Longing <span style="font-size: small;">can trigger all sorts of <span style="font-size: small;">conflict. <span style="font-size: small;">C</span>ircumstance<span style="font-size: small;">s are designed to overwhelm<span style="font-size: small;"> and baffle us b<span style="font-size: small;">e</span>cause they can be <span style="font-size: small;">like a mirage<span style="font-size: small;">: ever shifting<span style="font-size: small;">, according to the angle of light and the<span style="font-size: small;"> effect a<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">n</span></span> impression leaves upon our mind. W<span style="font-size: small;">hen we buy into the images that shimmer in a heat wave over mesmerizing sands<span style="font-size: small;">--this is no different than believ<span style="font-size: small;">ing the mental conflic<span style="font-size: small;">t <span style="font-size: small;">that occurs when we <span style="font-size: small;">b<span style="font-size: small;">uy into <span style="font-size: small;">the ideas <span style="font-size: small;">(fears<span style="font-size: small;">/</span>dread<span style="font-size: small;">)</span></span> ab<span style="font-size: small;">out what <span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">what it might mean to make the wrong decision</span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">.</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span> <br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: small;">Life/Death IS the ultimate
two-sided coin. Life/Death knows that it is impossible to choose between it’s
head and it’s tail. Any attempt to do so, will merely split the organism itself
apart ; but such violence is, after all, responsible for the creation of entire
universes, is it not?</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">I<span style="font-size: small;">f <span style="font-size: small;">we cannot face<span style="font-size: small;"></span></span> the discomfort t<span style="font-size: small;">ha<span style="font-size: small;">t</span> <span style="font-size: small;">uncertainty often brings,<span style="font-size: small;"> </span>then we will miss <span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">the most important part of the dilemma</span>. This torture itself, IS the hidden gift within our longing. Seeing through this will show us what truly matters. And in stepping across this threshold, we find that <span style="font-size: small;">disco<span style="font-size: small;">very is more precious than protection. Curiosity and yearning triumph<span style="font-size: small;">,</span> a<span style="font-size: small;">nd suddenly it i<span style="font-size: small;">s safe to be vulnerable<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">. It <span style="font-size: small;">is worthwhile</span></span> to admit what we really feel. E<span style="font-size: small;">ven if we <span style="font-size: small;">can't always have what we want<span style="font-size: small;">:</span> </span></span>quite often<span style="font-size: small;">,</span> just knowing what matters to us, is enough.</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span> </div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">We do have an utterly
amazing, and uniquely personal part to play, within this vast dance of <i>Cosmic
Unfoldment</i>. There IS choice and this can be more crucial than we might have
imagined, since the course of an entire life can rest upon a single leaning in
this direction, or that. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">The terror a child can
feel when faced with any situation, which asks them to take a crossroad—even
something as seemingly small as—chocolate or vanilla ice-cream, involves a strong inner knowing: <u>None of their moments are ‘small’ or insignificant.</u>
And knowing this (until it becomes covered over by the societal conditioning
that invites <i>doubt</i> into their fabric of being), <span style="font-size: small;">allows</span> children to take such
intuitive inklings quite seriously. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Before we learn to 'give
away' our own inner sense of knowingness; before we become conditioned to look
outward for direction: deferring to others, and to society, for tone and
direction--there is a wondrous gift, glowing within each one of us: Personal
Integrity. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Circumstances only claim
ownership of our spirit if we let them. We are not our circumstances. Since I
did not fully understand this, myself, when my small son grappled with the
apparent weight of choice, I did not know what to do. I could not help him
differentiate between the stuff we <i>'look at'</i>, within time/space, AND that
which is always 'looking out' from behind our eyes. </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"> </span><b> </b></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-large;"><i><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><b>What we are looking for, is
what's looking.</b></span></i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><i><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><b><span style="font-size: x-small;">~ St<span style="font-size: x-small;">. Francis of As<span style="font-size: x-small;">issi ~</span></span></span> </b></span></i></span></div>
</div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Our wellspring of
creativity is endless and the source of our personal integrity connects us to
every aspect of creation. Understanding this can take a lifetime to grok, yet
the gateway is always open. Pondering choice can show us through, at any point,
but only if we are willing to stop at nothing to find out. We are cursed with the
'gift' of choice. We even have the option of choosing not to choose. Poet, David
Whyte points out that, <span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>“Man is the only species privileged to refuse its own
flowering.”</i></span></span> </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">How might we learn to
open to each actual kernel of 'intuitive knowingness' without feeling the
weight of consequence heavy on our shoulders? What if the gulf that seems to
cut us off from the dilemma, itself, suddenly fell away? <span style="font-size: small;">Opened up a space that it had been obscuring.<span style="font-size: small;">..</span></span></span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">...</span></span>I wonder what this
child at the ice-cream counter, might do if we took a different approach (beyond
trying to direct them, or waiting anxiously, for them to ponder their dilemma a<span style="font-size: small;">lone</span>)? What if we
knelt down beside them said something like,"Maybe it<span style="font-size: small;">'s okay that you don't know which one to choose<span style="font-size: small;">; Maybe you don't have to fi<span style="font-size: small;">gure <span style="font-size: small;">this</span> out<span style="font-size: small;">,</span> all by <span style="font-size: small;">y<span style="font-size: small;">ou<span style="font-size: small;">rself?</span></span></span>"</span></span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">“I wonder if there <span style="font-size: small;">m<span style="font-size: small;">ig<span style="font-size: small;">ht be</span></span></span> one
flavor of ice cream that really wants to be tasted by you RIGHT NOW? What if it
is trying to say "choose me!! choose me!!" If you stop for a moment
and if you just look at all of these different flavors behind the glass, very
carefully . . . and if you listen real close, maybe one of them is trying to
get YOUR attention. Maybe we might try listening for just a moment, and
see?" </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">I wonder what might
happen then . . .</span></span><br />
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stephanie laurahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15658757016965844355noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1227049631778564359.post-36201812100888739772013-03-04T12:18:00.003-08:002013-05-13T14:57:28.591-07:00Qi Gong: Why I love it!<br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Qi Gong has been such an integral part of my life for so long that I take it for granted. It never occurred to me to mention it here in my blog. Recently, before Lee Holden's class began, a video crew was at his studio. They wanted to interview some of his students before we began our Qi Gong session. So, here is what I told them...</span></span><br />
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<object class="BLOGGER-youtube-video" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=6,0,40,0" data-thumbnail-src="http://1.gvt0.com/vi/uD_mzwcbIDk/0.jpg" height="266" width="320"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/uD_mzwcbIDk&fs=1&source=uds" /><param name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF" /><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true" /><embed width="320" height="266" src="http://www.youtube.com/v/uD_mzwcbIDk&fs=1&source=uds" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true"></embed></object><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">That was the short version. Each time I leave class, after doing Qi Gong at Lee's Center, the whole world is more clear and I feel a softness and a strength inside, like nothing else can produce, in that amount of time. In addition to class 2 or 3 times a week, at <a href="http://www.santacruzintegrativemedicine.net/chicenter/">Lee's Center</a>, this is just the nudge I've needed to resume doing Qi Gong at home each day, as well. Perhaps I will listen to my own words and take them to heart...</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />This video is part of a series being produced for free video promotions, featured at: </span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="http://www.modernqigong.com/unblock-your-healing-powers">Modern QiGong</a></span></span></div>
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stephanie laurahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15658757016965844355noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1227049631778564359.post-61784447293528381062013-01-27T00:08:00.000-08:002013-09-08T09:18:00.829-07:00R.I.P. Aaron Swartz<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-2ORTKpOekPU/UQTUFuaLA3I/AAAAAAAAAcc/tzP01u5_XAA/s1600/esq-aaron-swartz-012313-7KbtDx-xlg.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>R.I.P. Aaron Swartz</b></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" id=".reactRoot[79].[1][2][1]{comment10152481381125711_18453832}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2]"><span class="UFICommentBody" id=".reactRoot[79].[1][2][1]{comment10152481381125711_18453832}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2].0"><span id=".reactRoot[79].[1][2][1]{comment10152481381125711_18453832}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2].0.[0]"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-2ORTKpOekPU/UQTUFuaLA3I/AAAAAAAAAcc/tzP01u5_XAA/s1600/esq-aaron-swartz-012313-7KbtDx-xlg.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-2ORTKpOekPU/UQTUFuaLA3I/AAAAAAAAAcc/tzP01u5_XAA/s200/esq-aaron-swartz-012313-7KbtDx-xlg.jpg" width="161" /></a><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">A vibrant, </span></span></span></span></span></span></span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" id=".reactRoot[79].[1][2][1]{comment10152481381125711_18453832}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2]"><span class="UFICommentBody" id=".reactRoot[79].[1][2][1]{comment10152481381125711_18453832}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2].0"><span id=".reactRoot[79].[1][2][1]{comment10152481381125711_18453832}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2].0.[0]"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" id=".reactRoot[79].[1][2][1]{comment10152481381125711_18453832}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2]"><span class="UFICommentBody" id=".reactRoot[79].[1][2][1]{comment10152481381125711_18453832}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2].0"><span id=".reactRoot[79].[1][2][1]{comment10152481381125711_18453832}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2].0.[0]">talented young man is dead. A <span style="font-size: x-small;">troubled soc<span style="font-size: x-small;">iety needs to do mo<span style="font-size: x-small;">re than merely </span>mourn<span style="font-size: x-small;"> this insensible loss</span>.</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" id=".reactRoot[79].[1][2][1]{comment10152481381125711_18453832}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2]"><span class="UFICommentBody" id=".reactRoot[79].[1][2][1]{comment10152481381125711_18453832}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2].0"><span id=".reactRoot[79].[1][2][1]{comment10152481381125711_18453832}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2].0.[0]"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" id=".reactRoot[79].[1][2][1]{comment10152481381125711_18453832}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2]"><span class="UFICommentBody" id=".reactRoot[79].[1][2][1]{comment10152481381125711_18453832}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2].0"><span id=".reactRoot[79].[1][2][1]{comment10152481381125711_18453832}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2].0.[0]">Aaron cared deeply about life. He acted on behalf of us all. Like the early leaders of his country, Aaron Swartz championed for free speech and basic rights. Today, however, instead of respect and support, he found harsh</span></span></span></span></span></span><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" id=".reactRoot[79].[1][2][1]{comment10152481381125711_18453832}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2]"><span class="UFICommentBody" id=".reactRoot[79].[1][2][1]{comment10152481381125711_18453832}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2].0"><span id=".reactRoot[79].[1][2][1]{comment10152481381125711_18453832}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2].0.[0]"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" id=".reactRoot[79].[1][2][1]{comment10152481381125711_18453832}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2]"><span class="UFICommentBody" id=".reactRoot[79].[1][2][1]{comment10152481381125711_18453832}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2].0"><span id=".reactRoot[79].[1][2][1]{comment10152481381125711_18453832}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2].0.[0]"> </span></span></span>intimidation,
for his efforts. </span></span></span></span></span>
<br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" id=".reactRoot[79].[1][2][1]{comment10152481381125711_18453832}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2]"><span class="UFICommentBody" id=".reactRoot[79].[1][2][1]{comment10152481381125711_18453832}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2].0"><span id=".reactRoot[79].[1][2][1]{comment10152481381125711_18453832}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2].0.[0]">Our criminal justice system wanted to "make an example" of him, charging him--as if he were a dangerous criminal--for downloading articles without permission. Imagine being 26 years old, and facing 35 years in prison with </span></span></span><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" id=".reactRoot[79].[1][2][1]{comment10152481381125711_18453832}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2]"><span class="UFICommentBody" id=".reactRoot[79].[1][2][1]{comment10152481381125711_18453832}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2].0"><span id=".reactRoot[79].[1][2][1]{comment10152481381125711_18453832}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2].0.[0]"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" id=".reactRoot[79].[1][2][1]{comment10152481381125711_18453832}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2]"><span class="UFICommentBody" id=".reactRoot[79].[1][2][1]{comment10152481381125711_18453832}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2].0"><span id=".reactRoot[79].[1][2][1]{comment10152481381125711_18453832}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2].0.[0]">millions of dollars in fines</span></span></span>. Such harsh, cruel, insensitive action by a corrupt system has consequences. </span></span></span></span></span>
<br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" id=".reactRoot[79].[1][2][1]{comment10152481381125711_18453832}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2]"><span class="UFICommentBody" id=".reactRoot[79].[1][2][1]{comment10152481381125711_18453832}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2].0"><span id=".reactRoot[79].[1][2][1]{comment10152481381125711_18453832}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2].0.[0]"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" id=".reactRoot[79].[1][2][1]{comment10152481381125711_18453832}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2]"><span class="UFICommentBody" id=".reactRoot[79].[1][2][1]{comment10152481381125711_18453832}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2].0"><span id=".reactRoot[79].[1][2][1]{comment10152481381125711_18453832}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2].0.[0]">The insensitive over-reaction of a country that fails to value the principles</span></span></span> he embodied is inexcusable. </span></span></span><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" id=".reactRoot[79].[1][2][1]{comment10152481381125711_18453832}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2]"><span class="UFICommentBody" id=".reactRoot[79].[1][2][1]{comment10152481381125711_18453832}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2].0"><span id=".reactRoot[79].[1][2][1]{comment10152481381125711_18453832}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2].0.[0]">My heart aches at the tragic results of such skewed priorities. False accusation and unjust imprisonment of innocent people is unacceptable. Aaron's courage and bright spirit encountered the stone wall of corporate </span></span></span><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" id=".reactRoot[79].[1][2][1]{comment10152481381125711_18453832}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2]"><span class="UFICommentBody" id=".reactRoot[79].[1][2][1]{comment10152481381125711_18453832}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2].0"><span id=".reactRoot[79].[1][2][1]{comment10152481381125711_18453832}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2].0.[0]">greed and societal indifference<span style="font-size: x-small;">, i</span></span></span></span><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" id=".reactRoot[79].[1][2][1]{comment10152481381125711_18453832}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2]"><span class="UFICommentBody" id=".reactRoot[79].[1][2][1]{comment10152481381125711_18453832}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2].0"><span id=".reactRoot[79].[1][2][1]{comment10152481381125711_18453832}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2].0.[0]"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" id=".reactRoot[79].[1][2][1]{comment10152481381125711_18453832}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2]"><span class="UFICommentBody" id=".reactRoot[79].[1][2][1]{comment10152481381125711_18453832}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2].0"><span id=".reactRoot[79].[1][2][1]{comment10152481381125711_18453832}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2].0.[0]">nstead of an appreciation for truth. </span></span></span></span></span></span><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" id=".reactRoot[79].[1][2][1]{comment10152481381125711_18453832}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2]"><span class="UFICommentBody" id=".reactRoot[79].[1][2][1]{comment10152481381125711_18453832}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2].0"><span id=".reactRoot[79].[1][2][1]{comment10152481381125711_18453832}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2].0.[0]"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" id=".reactRoot[79].[1][2][1]{comment10152481381125711_18453832}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2]"><span class="UFICommentBody" id=".reactRoot[79].[1][2][1]{comment10152481381125711_18453832}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2].0"><span id=".reactRoot[79].[1][2][1]{comment10152481381125711_18453832}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2].0.[0]"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" id=".reactRoot[79].[1][2][1]{comment10152481381125711_18453832}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2]"><span class="UFICommentBody" id=".reactRoot[79].[1][2][1]{comment10152481381125711_18453832}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2].0"><span id=".reactRoot[79].[1][2][1]{comment10152481381125711_18453832}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2].0.[0]"> </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" id=".reactRoot[79].[1][2][1]{comment10152481381125711_18453832}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2]"><span class="UFICommentBody" id=".reactRoot[79].[1][2][1]{comment10152481381125711_18453832}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2].0"><span id=".reactRoot[79].[1][2][1]{comment10152481381125711_18453832}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2].0.[0]"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" id=".reactRoot[79].[1][2][1]{comment10152481381125711_18453832}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2]"><span class="UFICommentBody" id=".reactRoot[79].[1][2][1]{comment10152481381125711_18453832}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2].0"><span id=".reactRoot[79].[1][2][1]{comment10152481381125711_18453832}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2].0.[0]"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" id=".reactRoot[79].[1][2][1]{comment10152481381125711_18453832}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2]"><span class="UFICommentBody" id=".reactRoot[79].[1][2][1]{comment10152481381125711_18453832}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2].0"><span id=".reactRoot[79].[1][2][1]{comment10152481381125711_18453832}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2].0.[0]">His determination to uphold free speech was no match for</span></span></span></span></span></span> </span></span></span><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" id=".reactRoot[79].[1][2][1]{comment10152481381125711_18453832}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2]"><span class="UFICommentBody" id=".reactRoot[79].[1][2][1]{comment10152481381125711_18453832}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2].0"><span id=".reactRoot[79].[1][2][1]{comment10152481381125711_18453832}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2].0.[0]"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" id=".reactRoot[79].[1][2][1]{comment10152481381125711_18453832}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2]"><span class="UFICommentBody" id=".reactRoot[79].[1][2][1]{comment10152481381125711_18453832}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2].0"><span id=".reactRoot[79].[1][2][1]{comment10152481381125711_18453832}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2].0.[0]">the practice of monopoly and </span></span></span>power in our complicit society. This is a very sad statement of what our system values. What a horrific message it sends to our young people. Aaron's spirit inspires me. I want to support the fine example of his life-work. </span></span></span></span></span>
<br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" id=".reactRoot[79].[1][2][1]{comment10152481381125711_18453832}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2]"><span class="UFICommentBody" id=".reactRoot[79].[1][2][1]{comment10152481381125711_18453832}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2].0"><span id=".reactRoot[79].[1][2][1]{comment10152481381125711_18453832}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2].0.[0]"><br /></span></span></span></span></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" id=".reactRoot[79].[1][2][1]{comment10152481381125711_18453832}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2]"><span class="UFICommentBody" id=".reactRoot[79].[1][2][1]{comment10152481381125711_18453832}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2].0"><span id=".reactRoot[79].[1][2][1]{comment10152481381125711_18453832}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2].0.[0]">Our world was robbed of a bright light. His family, friends, and colleagues will not feel his amazing smile again. Aaron Swartz will not wake up. His died in his room: an apparent suicide. For Aaron it is too late. Will we wake up before it's too late for <span style="font-size: x-small;">others? </span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" id=".reactRoot[79].[1][2][1]{comment10152481381125711_18453832}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2]"><span class="UFICommentBody" id=".reactRoot[79].[1][2][1]{comment10152481381125711_18453832}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2].0"><span id=".reactRoot[79].[1][2][1]{comment10152481381125711_18453832}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2].0.[0]"><span style="font-size: x-small;"> </span></span></span></span> </span></span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" id=".reactRoot[79].[1][2][1]{comment10152481381125711_18453832}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2]"><span class="UFICommentBody" id=".reactRoot[79].[1][2][1]{comment10152481381125711_18453832}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2].0"><span id=".reactRoot[79].[1][2][1]{comment10152481381125711_18453832}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2].0.[0]">In Aaron's own words:</span></span></span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" id=".reactRoot[79].[1][2][1]{comment10152481381125711_18453832}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2]" style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="UFICommentBody" id=".reactRoot[79].[1][2][1]{comment10152481381125711_18453832}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2].0"><span id=".reactRoot[79].[1][2][1]{comment10152481381125711_18453832}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2].0.[0]"><br /></span></span></span><span style="font-size: x-small;">
</span><i><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" id=".reactRoot[79].[1][2][1]{comment10152481381125711_18453832}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2]"><span class="UFICommentBody" id=".reactRoot[79].[1][2][1]{comment10152481381125711_18453832}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2].0"><span id=".reactRoot[79].[1][2][1]{comment10152481381125711_18453832}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2].0.[0]"><span style="font-size: x-small;"> "The problem is that the topics, which are most painful also tend to be the
topics that are most important for us: they’re the projects we most
want to </span>do, the relationships we care most about, the decisions that
have the biggest consequences for our future, the most dangerous risks
that we run. We’re scared of them because we know the stakes are so
high. But if we never think about them, then we can never do anything
about them. </span></span></span></i></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" id=".reactRoot[79].[1][2][1]{comment10152481381125711_18453832}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2]"><span class="UFICommentBody" id=".reactRoot[79].[1][2][1]{comment10152481381125711_18453832}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2].0"><span id=".reactRoot[79].[1][2][1]{comment10152481381125711_18453832}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2].0.[0]"> </span></span></span>Yes it’s painful, but the trick is to make that mental shift. To
realize that the pain isn’t something awful to be postponed and avoided,
but a signal that you’re getting stronger — something to savor and
enjoy. It’s what makes you better</i></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i><br /></i>
<i> Pretty soon, when you start noticing something that causes you psychic pain, you’ll get excited about it, not afraid. <i>Ooh, another chance to get stronger.</i> You’ll seek out things you’re scared of and intentionally confront
them . . . The trick is: when you start feeling that psychological pain coming
on, don’t draw back from it and cower — lean into it. Lean into the
pain." </i></span></span><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">~ http://www.aaronsw.com/weblog/ ~</span></span></i></span></span><br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">From what A<span style="font-size: x-small;">aron says here, it is obvious that he <span style="font-size: x-small;">grasped the val<span style="font-size: x-small;">ue of facing pain and fear<span style="font-size: x-small;">, whenever Life provokes us. <span style="font-size: x-small;">And yet, Life is a continuum. There is a wide range between the ex<span style="font-size: x-small;">treme edges <span style="font-size: x-small;">of pola<span style="font-size: x-small;">rized perspective. Gen<span style="font-size: x-small;">e<span style="font-size: x-small;">ra<span style="font-size: x-small;">lly we hang out somewhere in the middle of this continuum<span style="font-size: x-small;">. <span style="font-size: x-small;">Like for all of us, A</span>aron's own wisdom and insight<span style="font-size: x-small;"> <span style="font-size: x-small;">had limits<span style="font-size: x-small;">--he was unable to make this particular "mental shift". </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">When innocent impulse is treated as a crime; when <span style="font-size: x-small;">genuine </span>trust is stretched beyond</span> <span style="font-size: x-small;">any com<span style="font-size: x-small;">fort zo<span style="font-size: x-small;">ne of rational<span style="font-size: x-small;"> understanding<span style="font-size: x-small;">; w</span>hen we live in an atmosphere that fails to consider the consequence of <span style="font-size: x-small;">its actions <span style="font-size: x-small;">upon <span style="font-size: x-small;">th<span style="font-size: x-small;">e individual human spirit; when the threat to <span style="font-size: x-small;">personal </span>wellbe<span style="font-size: x-small;">ing oversh<span style="font-size: x-small;">a<span style="font-size: x-small;">dow<span style="font-size: x-small;">s trust, innocence, and the beautiful zest of true vision: OUR SOCIETY IS IN BIG TROUBLE<span style="font-size: x-small;">.</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><i> </i></div>
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
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stephanie laurahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15658757016965844355noreply@blogger.com0