On the road this morning, I met a man who told me the chin-skidding view of 2012. "We're all going to be destroyed. We will run out of food. People will fight one another for what's around. It will be a free-for-all."
There was a long pause then. I waited. Nothing seemed to be happening, so then I rejoined with:
"What then?"
"What then?"
"Yes. What will happen after this stage. Nothing lasts forever."
"Oh, well then, everyone will die."
"And then?"
"And then? Well, then little flowers will come up again."
Little flowers will come up again.
We drove into the high school, and this man jumped out of the car immediately to help a foursome of highschool students, their car stuck in the snow.
Does he have any idea how much good he creates? I wondered.
Saturday, January 28, 2012
Thursday, January 12, 2012
On coming closer
In an interview in uptown Vashon, I learned from a local businesswoman named Emma that people are coming together more and more to support the homeless. Nearly gone is the judgment which once blocked us from helping one another. Emma spoke of the everpresent help which webs many caring businesses and people together to assist people in need. She also spoke of potential positive developments in politics. On a personal level, she spoke of how she uses "reframing" to ensure she stays positive and sees the best. "I love things really, really neat," she explained, "but I can't get that with my partner. I've been frustrated by that, but then I take some time to pause and to reflect on what I am gaining. I would never trade my partner in, not even to keep things as neat as I like them. I've learned through reframing that I can find the best in everything."
On Grace
When I do this work, I am not always paid. On staff for magazines and newspapers, I was paid already. Today, I ask for a contribution for my work but do not insist upon it. For me, interviewing and writing is worth money, and most people seem to cherish time with a deep listener and information synthesizer like myself.
Two days ago, I interviewed four people. None of them made a contribution. Then, I interviewed a deeply articulate woman who wrote me a check for - well, in the moment, I did not dare look. I saw a 5 on the check, and I thought, "It's OK; maybe it's only $5, but that's OK, or maybe it's $15, or maybe it's...." As it turns out, the check she wrote gave $50 to me, and I turned that money over instantly into basic needs for my life as a mother. I was so grateful to her; she paid for the four people before her, as well as herself!
Two days ago, I interviewed four people. None of them made a contribution. Then, I interviewed a deeply articulate woman who wrote me a check for - well, in the moment, I did not dare look. I saw a 5 on the check, and I thought, "It's OK; maybe it's only $5, but that's OK, or maybe it's $15, or maybe it's...." As it turns out, the check she wrote gave $50 to me, and I turned that money over instantly into basic needs for my life as a mother. I was so grateful to her; she paid for the four people before her, as well as herself!
On Darkness, On Light
Today, a driver who took me and my son uptown told us about her depression. She said she's been depressed her entire life. We talked about this. I sense that many of us have been incubating in dark wombs. I sense that a huge change is underway, and our meditations on suffering have been helpful, rather than self-indulgent. The Earth contains many sad stories, and part of living here is to learn to bend with them, to learn to tame their impact on our souls.
A friend of mine interviewed for this project spoke of how she prefers to concentrate only on light. She projects light and sends light to others. I tend to focus on my darkness; I assume the world is Light and only my darkness prevents me from seeing it.
Sometimes I wonder this: if even half of us went deep into our beings and cleaned out our darkness, would that alone clear the oceans? What is the Earth, really, except what I am able to perceive?
We are hearing many new thoughts and ideas these days. One is this: the human is changing so rapidly that it's important that we have a lot of us so that the changes really stick. I hear we just reached the 7 billion mark. Seven billion humans walk the plant. We are giving birth to a new kind of human, one which can go into its own darkness, take responsibility and open to the Light. From there, many potentials for creation and love exist.
A friend of mine interviewed for this project spoke of how she prefers to concentrate only on light. She projects light and sends light to others. I tend to focus on my darkness; I assume the world is Light and only my darkness prevents me from seeing it.
Sometimes I wonder this: if even half of us went deep into our beings and cleaned out our darkness, would that alone clear the oceans? What is the Earth, really, except what I am able to perceive?
We are hearing many new thoughts and ideas these days. One is this: the human is changing so rapidly that it's important that we have a lot of us so that the changes really stick. I hear we just reached the 7 billion mark. Seven billion humans walk the plant. We are giving birth to a new kind of human, one which can go into its own darkness, take responsibility and open to the Light. From there, many potentials for creation and love exist.
On Manifestation
It's interesting to talk about manifestation. Do you know that out in these interviews, people are often growing tired of manifestation. Driving through Seattle last night, I surveyed the enormous glut and excess of city life, the millions of lights still on, the lack of trees - even in a gorgeous big city like Seattle, very few trees still exist compared to the way we began.
We are taught to manifest. We have been manifesting all the while. The people who own several cars are manifesting. The business owners with worldwide distribution are manifesting. Even people like me who write books are manifesting.
I am getting very conscious of how I use my resources. When I look at the wine in the grocery story, a recent memory of the dump surfaces: I learned there that if a wine bottle is broken, it is not recyclable. Everything packaged or bottled involves a great deal of energy for creation, distribution and - ideally - recycling. Often I ask myself if I really need an item and the answer is just simply No, and I walk on, lighter rather than heavier.
We are taught to manifest. We have been manifesting all the while. The people who own several cars are manifesting. The business owners with worldwide distribution are manifesting. Even people like me who write books are manifesting.
I am getting very conscious of how I use my resources. When I look at the wine in the grocery story, a recent memory of the dump surfaces: I learned there that if a wine bottle is broken, it is not recyclable. Everything packaged or bottled involves a great deal of energy for creation, distribution and - ideally - recycling. Often I ask myself if I really need an item and the answer is just simply No, and I walk on, lighter rather than heavier.
Living Between the No Longer and the Not Yet
Through sheer chance, my son and I ended up at East West Books in Ravenna last night. We saw a speaker whose name has already been wiped from the store's calendar. No matter; I'll attribute him as soon as possible.
He entitled his talk "Living Between the No Longer and the Not Yet."
He spoke mesmerically. He spoke lyrically.
He said, as I heard it, essentially this: nothing measurably different will be happening this winter solstice. Rather, the changes are already in place.
His uncle spent a lifework researching and analyzing human behavior, and discovered just what I've been thinking about in interviews around Vashon - and in the spaces after the interviews. He talked about how our lifework now is learning to intergrate with the other species.
My friend Elizabeth, in the Vashon library on Wednesday, speaks eloquently on the same topic. She is writing a book about the killing of animals for food. She has done her best to come to peace with this, and on her farm, she developed a sacred ritual of gratitude to ease the suffering she feels when working with chickens who will be killed for food.
My friend Angie spoke over and over again about the importance of working with animals kindly, for they do not communicate with us in words.
I spent part of Christmas in an old inn on the sea, caretaking for a friend whose dog is old and blind. As the dog Oso and I walked along the beach, I marvelled at how insane our human sense of construction is: I myself lived six years directly on the sea and know how much more deeply sea dwelling connected me to nature, but today, I walk the shore and feel the absurdity of human living. Where is the habitat for other beings? Where are the trees? Who else among all the species even lives in only one dwelling? Who else takes down everyone else's homes and then squats defiantly in a "dream home" on the ocean waves? Of course, these homes are remarkable for not just their view, but for the challenge of heating them. Without the trees, the homes receive enormous amounts of wind off the water and the homes are generally chilly and drafty.
Today, I would not live right on the water if the habitat had been destroyed for my so-called "pleasure." Today I would not, though I did for six years. I am discovering more and more that moving forward and creating anew is what matters, and my being opens more and more to the other realms of communication with other beings.
The East-West speaker invited us to close our eyes. He spoke of our sense of place. He pointed out that the earth radiates through the structure of any building. He reminded us that each direction contains real mountains and real bodies of water. He spoke on and on. He invited us all to connect with the original human ancestors, and the community of animals, and even the faery worlds. By the time I arrived home, quite late, perhaps 11 or so, I was exhausted from thinking so expansively. I felt my sense of space opening and opening, and my commitment to working with other beings both within and outside the human realm increasing.
The moon shone bright. Birds called out over the water. The grass stood erect, receiving the evening frost. I awoke at about 3, looking for my cat. I wondered about the world of the animals. As Elizabeth and others point out, its understood that many animals communicate through pictures, and many humans strive now to commune with them.
Well. It's interesting how a single night, if ripe, can fruit into the awakening of a nascent vision.
He entitled his talk "Living Between the No Longer and the Not Yet."
He spoke mesmerically. He spoke lyrically.
He said, as I heard it, essentially this: nothing measurably different will be happening this winter solstice. Rather, the changes are already in place.
His uncle spent a lifework researching and analyzing human behavior, and discovered just what I've been thinking about in interviews around Vashon - and in the spaces after the interviews. He talked about how our lifework now is learning to intergrate with the other species.
My friend Elizabeth, in the Vashon library on Wednesday, speaks eloquently on the same topic. She is writing a book about the killing of animals for food. She has done her best to come to peace with this, and on her farm, she developed a sacred ritual of gratitude to ease the suffering she feels when working with chickens who will be killed for food.
My friend Angie spoke over and over again about the importance of working with animals kindly, for they do not communicate with us in words.
I spent part of Christmas in an old inn on the sea, caretaking for a friend whose dog is old and blind. As the dog Oso and I walked along the beach, I marvelled at how insane our human sense of construction is: I myself lived six years directly on the sea and know how much more deeply sea dwelling connected me to nature, but today, I walk the shore and feel the absurdity of human living. Where is the habitat for other beings? Where are the trees? Who else among all the species even lives in only one dwelling? Who else takes down everyone else's homes and then squats defiantly in a "dream home" on the ocean waves? Of course, these homes are remarkable for not just their view, but for the challenge of heating them. Without the trees, the homes receive enormous amounts of wind off the water and the homes are generally chilly and drafty.
Today, I would not live right on the water if the habitat had been destroyed for my so-called "pleasure." Today I would not, though I did for six years. I am discovering more and more that moving forward and creating anew is what matters, and my being opens more and more to the other realms of communication with other beings.
The East-West speaker invited us to close our eyes. He spoke of our sense of place. He pointed out that the earth radiates through the structure of any building. He reminded us that each direction contains real mountains and real bodies of water. He spoke on and on. He invited us all to connect with the original human ancestors, and the community of animals, and even the faery worlds. By the time I arrived home, quite late, perhaps 11 or so, I was exhausted from thinking so expansively. I felt my sense of space opening and opening, and my commitment to working with other beings both within and outside the human realm increasing.
The moon shone bright. Birds called out over the water. The grass stood erect, receiving the evening frost. I awoke at about 3, looking for my cat. I wondered about the world of the animals. As Elizabeth and others point out, its understood that many animals communicate through pictures, and many humans strive now to commune with them.
Well. It's interesting how a single night, if ripe, can fruit into the awakening of a nascent vision.
Wednesday, January 11, 2012
On Seeking
My son and I are reading Herman Hesse's Siddhartha now. Of all the books valuable to humanity, this one - I pronounce to my child, holding the book up to the sun - will last. The story of how a man accesses his deepest inner being, the place of complete joy and serenity, is an eternal story. All of us know we possess this; how, then, do we live from it?
I find today that I have missplaced my journalism notebook, a fine, thick purple square made of elephant poop and given to me by my mother. I will likely recover the book. The book contains notes from the interviews of yesterday.
I noticed that yesterday became a turning point for me. I love this work; I always did, and the way I do it now is so much better for me than when I was a journalist for newspapers and magazines. Back then, I sometimes asked the questions my editors wanted to know. Today, I ask the questions I want to know. What I love about my projects in particular is this: projects like ReadySteady2012 are great equalizers. I interview anyone for this project; in the past, working for newsrooms and magazines, I'd interview just a few "regular" people. Now I tiger out, interviewing everyone. I have a goal of interviewing 25 people a day; that's a tall order and so far I've not made it. We're looking at a few minutes after five in the afternoon now and I haven't interviewed anyone at all. The entire day has been about mothering myself first, for an hour a so in the early morning, and then mothering my 9 year-old.
This morning, I awoke after reading Siddhartha last night. The cedar wood on the wall glowed pink. That's always a wonderful sign! I awakened my child, telling him: "Do you remember what Siddhartha was talking about? Do you remember that passage about inner serenity? I guess that must feel like this, all the time, even when someone is upset with you, even when it's raining."
I find today that I have missplaced my journalism notebook, a fine, thick purple square made of elephant poop and given to me by my mother. I will likely recover the book. The book contains notes from the interviews of yesterday.
I noticed that yesterday became a turning point for me. I love this work; I always did, and the way I do it now is so much better for me than when I was a journalist for newspapers and magazines. Back then, I sometimes asked the questions my editors wanted to know. Today, I ask the questions I want to know. What I love about my projects in particular is this: projects like ReadySteady2012 are great equalizers. I interview anyone for this project; in the past, working for newsrooms and magazines, I'd interview just a few "regular" people. Now I tiger out, interviewing everyone. I have a goal of interviewing 25 people a day; that's a tall order and so far I've not made it. We're looking at a few minutes after five in the afternoon now and I haven't interviewed anyone at all. The entire day has been about mothering myself first, for an hour a so in the early morning, and then mothering my 9 year-old.
This morning, I awoke after reading Siddhartha last night. The cedar wood on the wall glowed pink. That's always a wonderful sign! I awakened my child, telling him: "Do you remember what Siddhartha was talking about? Do you remember that passage about inner serenity? I guess that must feel like this, all the time, even when someone is upset with you, even when it's raining."
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