This is a day of a phone call
fueling fresh hope
This is a day of remembrances stifled
to give chance a chance
This day there is a hint of forgiveness.
This is a day of dark eyebrows
laughter driving through the rain
This is a day of mist filling half the air around me
This is a day of good company.
Puppets are calling
Play is the rest of this day.
Wednesday, December 24, 2008
Thursday, October 9, 2008
OFF-WHITE DOOR...YELLOW ROOM
You asked about the yellow room. Well, I've been back since then. Couldn't stay away. The air in there is an evolving mystery unfolding before.....not just my eyes, but my spirit. I MUST be there. I must BE there. So many questions I never dreamed of. But I'll tell you how this all began.
I was engaged in a guided imagery and dropped off in front of a long hallway with doors on either side. Well into my imagination and free from inner controls I walked up to a plain, off-white door. The paint color was flat and smoothe, not a nick. The door surface was plain with no embellishment, except for a multifaceted clear-glass door knob. I liked the simplicity of the whole door. It had a classy (glassy?) touch. The knob warmed as I turned it and gave a push.
A comfortable space, I guessed 20x20, with canary yellow walls and ceiling. The only objects in the room were four red Louis XIV chairs, wide and well-padded. They were, it appeared, carefully placed, one in each corner so that the back of the chairs formed the base of a triangle with the plane of the yellow walls. The chairs were all facing the same point in the room....the center. At a glance the room presented itself as ordered and serene, and yet I sensed a vibrant undercurrent. It felt pregnant with, with something......a label escaped me.
I walked to the chair in the NW corner and sat down. As I did this the chair turned yellow as the walls, and the scent of patcholi floated past my nose. Yummy. Love magic. Love patchouli. I sat all the way back in the seat and my arms rested naturally at my side. I felt supported and strangely 'pointed in the right direction'.
Looking straight ahead I noted the other chairs. The line of our gazes met in the center, like an important X. I focused on this spot and a shimmer began to reveal itself. It grew upward into a cylinder of light. I blinked. It disappeared. I focused intently and it grew once more, this time almost touching the ceiling. There seemed to be movement and colors within the cylinder. And then I saw planets, oceans, green farmlands, castles, cavemen, space stations,......Louis XIV !? I tighten my focus and scenes flitted by with great speed until I concentrated on a specific area....a tiny spot of happening. The action slowed and I found myself witness to scenes, interactions, snipits of human activity, some from my past (!), others unknown to me. With jaw dropped and careful not to drool on the fancy chair, I witnessed moments from my childhood: Mom peeling potatoes at the sink, Dad and I driving Aunt Tilly home from work and picking up freshly baked bagels along the way, little me riding my bike on the gravel driveway. I panicked and the activity sped up, becoming a blur. I relaxed and it slowed down.
So this is how this room works. I seem to be pointed in the direction of the past. What if I sat in the other chairs? If I want to intently observe, all is visible. With dramatic awakening, this room's treasure becomes crystal clear, as clear as it's door knob. It's a hologram of life!
I felt my body rest heavy into the chair. I was trying too hard to know more. "No need to try. Just be. Come back whenever," the pillar of light sang out in mutiple pitches. I left, perfectly content.
And that, my friend, was my first visit to the Yellow Room behind the off-white door. I returned earlier today, excited to turn that crystal door knob. I chose a different chair, wanting a fresh perspective on this room. Or is it on Life? In any event I went through the door and sat myself down in SW chair. I relaxed, thought of nothing and looked to the center of the room. There was a rush of air. The hologram was speedily forming. As it rose and filled out, new thoughts came out of my mind, effortlessly. They took the form of questions. "Ask away," sang Big H. I call it that because it was filling the room, it's circumferance almost touching my knees. I thought Big H looked pregnant with possibilities. "That's right". Oooooo. The wonder of the unknown.
I asked without regard to answers. What if I stood in the center of the room? Would I be engulfed by the hologram?! What would become of me? How would that feel? Would I survive? What if I did a headstand in the center of creation? Would I see things in a different way I never imagined before.
"THAT'S THE IDEA!"
What if a friend joined me in this room and sat in another chair? Could we communicate? Could we co-create? What would happen to us? What if I twirled in the center of the hologram, in the center of creation? Would I survive? I want to know: Would I die?
"A part of you dies when a new part is born. It's the glory of Creation. It's a path of Evolution. It's the joy of Living. You are in the chair of dreams never dreamed....a perspective of possibility and grace."
This is one heavy room. My thoughts blanked out as I experienced a current enter my body and rest in my solar plexus. I savored the moment. I'll be back, I gurgled in my best Schwarzzenegger voice. Whirls of laughter filled the space called the yellow room.
I was engaged in a guided imagery and dropped off in front of a long hallway with doors on either side. Well into my imagination and free from inner controls I walked up to a plain, off-white door. The paint color was flat and smoothe, not a nick. The door surface was plain with no embellishment, except for a multifaceted clear-glass door knob. I liked the simplicity of the whole door. It had a classy (glassy?) touch. The knob warmed as I turned it and gave a push.
A comfortable space, I guessed 20x20, with canary yellow walls and ceiling. The only objects in the room were four red Louis XIV chairs, wide and well-padded. They were, it appeared, carefully placed, one in each corner so that the back of the chairs formed the base of a triangle with the plane of the yellow walls. The chairs were all facing the same point in the room....the center. At a glance the room presented itself as ordered and serene, and yet I sensed a vibrant undercurrent. It felt pregnant with, with something......a label escaped me.
I walked to the chair in the NW corner and sat down. As I did this the chair turned yellow as the walls, and the scent of patcholi floated past my nose. Yummy. Love magic. Love patchouli. I sat all the way back in the seat and my arms rested naturally at my side. I felt supported and strangely 'pointed in the right direction'.
Looking straight ahead I noted the other chairs. The line of our gazes met in the center, like an important X. I focused on this spot and a shimmer began to reveal itself. It grew upward into a cylinder of light. I blinked. It disappeared. I focused intently and it grew once more, this time almost touching the ceiling. There seemed to be movement and colors within the cylinder. And then I saw planets, oceans, green farmlands, castles, cavemen, space stations,......Louis XIV !? I tighten my focus and scenes flitted by with great speed until I concentrated on a specific area....a tiny spot of happening. The action slowed and I found myself witness to scenes, interactions, snipits of human activity, some from my past (!), others unknown to me. With jaw dropped and careful not to drool on the fancy chair, I witnessed moments from my childhood: Mom peeling potatoes at the sink, Dad and I driving Aunt Tilly home from work and picking up freshly baked bagels along the way, little me riding my bike on the gravel driveway. I panicked and the activity sped up, becoming a blur. I relaxed and it slowed down.
So this is how this room works. I seem to be pointed in the direction of the past. What if I sat in the other chairs? If I want to intently observe, all is visible. With dramatic awakening, this room's treasure becomes crystal clear, as clear as it's door knob. It's a hologram of life!
I felt my body rest heavy into the chair. I was trying too hard to know more. "No need to try. Just be. Come back whenever," the pillar of light sang out in mutiple pitches. I left, perfectly content.
And that, my friend, was my first visit to the Yellow Room behind the off-white door. I returned earlier today, excited to turn that crystal door knob. I chose a different chair, wanting a fresh perspective on this room. Or is it on Life? In any event I went through the door and sat myself down in SW chair. I relaxed, thought of nothing and looked to the center of the room. There was a rush of air. The hologram was speedily forming. As it rose and filled out, new thoughts came out of my mind, effortlessly. They took the form of questions. "Ask away," sang Big H. I call it that because it was filling the room, it's circumferance almost touching my knees. I thought Big H looked pregnant with possibilities. "That's right". Oooooo. The wonder of the unknown.
I asked without regard to answers. What if I stood in the center of the room? Would I be engulfed by the hologram?! What would become of me? How would that feel? Would I survive? What if I did a headstand in the center of creation? Would I see things in a different way I never imagined before.
"THAT'S THE IDEA!"
What if a friend joined me in this room and sat in another chair? Could we communicate? Could we co-create? What would happen to us? What if I twirled in the center of the hologram, in the center of creation? Would I survive? I want to know: Would I die?
"A part of you dies when a new part is born. It's the glory of Creation. It's a path of Evolution. It's the joy of Living. You are in the chair of dreams never dreamed....a perspective of possibility and grace."
This is one heavy room. My thoughts blanked out as I experienced a current enter my body and rest in my solar plexus. I savored the moment. I'll be back, I gurgled in my best Schwarzzenegger voice. Whirls of laughter filled the space called the yellow room.
Agelessness and Art Books
I love art books.....you know, those big picture books in art museum bookestores full of narratives, vignettes and philosophies of great artists with pictures of their thoughts realized as paintings, photographs, drawings. A favorite is Claude Bonnard for his in-depth look at color and his expertise at creating a vibrant wonder on canvas. I lingered at my personal bookshelf, tight with many favorites, and pulled out Bonnard at Le Cannet . I leafed through, reading and absorbing, when this quote repeated itself in my mind:
"His thirst for nature was insatiable, his work in capturing life tireless."
'Capturing life'. Hmmm. Another buzz-word to add to my growing understanding of agelessness. This great painter was empassioned with his way of living fully, and it involved giving color to life as he saw it. He loved this space called life and dared to reach for his potential in expressing himself, reaching it time and time again.
Now there's something scarey about potential realized. What comes next?? When that too-good-to-be-true dream is realized then what lays beyond? Is there a beyond? Is it time to then die?! At least that's what's gone through my mind. The fear of living a fully realized life can paralyze efforts in reaching it. So what's so frightening about reaching a dream, a potential?
I've begun considering that perhaps only levels of potential are reached. Perhaps there are many more levels of passion-expressed to grow with, to choose from.....only, that menu is not as yet available...I must first open the book to get to live the table of contents.
There. That makes me feel better. I won't perish if I reach what I think is my potential. How do I know what that is anyway? Just do my passion. Listen to what makes my heart flutter. Feel what makes my solar plexus ache with a sweet joy. Capture life in my way. I'll know I'm alive.
Ah, yes, this art book is the perfect gift for a budding artist on her 'sweet sixteen' birthday. I wrapped it in layered yellow and hot pink tissue paper and tied a large, flowing red and black bow in one corner. She'll love it.
And so she did.
(written 21December2006)
I love art books.....you know, those big picture books in art museum bookestores full of narratives, vignettes and philosophies of great artists with pictures of their thoughts realized as paintings, photographs, drawings. A favorite is Claude Bonnard for his in-depth look at color and his expertise at creating a vibrant wonder on canvas. I lingered at my personal bookshelf, tight with many favorites, and pulled out Bonnard at Le Cannet . I leafed through, reading and absorbing, when this quote repeated itself in my mind:
"His thirst for nature was insatiable, his work in capturing life tireless."
'Capturing life'. Hmmm. Another buzz-word to add to my growing understanding of agelessness. This great painter was empassioned with his way of living fully, and it involved giving color to life as he saw it. He loved this space called life and dared to reach for his potential in expressing himself, reaching it time and time again.
Now there's something scarey about potential realized. What comes next?? When that too-good-to-be-true dream is realized then what lays beyond? Is there a beyond? Is it time to then die?! At least that's what's gone through my mind. The fear of living a fully realized life can paralyze efforts in reaching it. So what's so frightening about reaching a dream, a potential?
I've begun considering that perhaps only levels of potential are reached. Perhaps there are many more levels of passion-expressed to grow with, to choose from.....only, that menu is not as yet available...I must first open the book to get to live the table of contents.
There. That makes me feel better. I won't perish if I reach what I think is my potential. How do I know what that is anyway? Just do my passion. Listen to what makes my heart flutter. Feel what makes my solar plexus ache with a sweet joy. Capture life in my way. I'll know I'm alive.
Ah, yes, this art book is the perfect gift for a budding artist on her 'sweet sixteen' birthday. I wrapped it in layered yellow and hot pink tissue paper and tied a large, flowing red and black bow in one corner. She'll love it.
And so she did.
(written 21December2006)
Tuesday, September 9, 2008
BEING SNOW
My mind was engulfed by the size of the bounty, the enormity of the situation.
At midnight I settled down to silently wait. The seven dwarfs tiptoed in, wearing dumpy dwarf hats, and each carrying a handful of smashed plastic bottles they had collected from the alley. They recycled. My sidekicks were gesturing wildly as I listened to their body language to surmise how ‘things’ had progressed. Grumpy actually had a relaxed look on his face, but complained in silent animation, nevertheless, to keep his name in good standing.
It was hard to keep still with their energy electrifying the small space of my home. Oh no friends, there was no arguing, just anxious anticipation of my fate.
By morning I had simmered seven pots of tea. We were on pot number eight when Detective Iknew I.Could tapped on the door and slid a note underneath on which he had scrawled: I found your Prince Charming. Eat the apple. All’s well.
My mind was engulfed by the size of the bounty, the enormity of the situation.
At midnight I settled down to silently wait. The seven dwarfs tiptoed in, wearing dumpy dwarf hats, and each carrying a handful of smashed plastic bottles they had collected from the alley. They recycled. My sidekicks were gesturing wildly as I listened to their body language to surmise how ‘things’ had progressed. Grumpy actually had a relaxed look on his face, but complained in silent animation, nevertheless, to keep his name in good standing.
It was hard to keep still with their energy electrifying the small space of my home. Oh no friends, there was no arguing, just anxious anticipation of my fate.
By morning I had simmered seven pots of tea. We were on pot number eight when Detective Iknew I.Could tapped on the door and slid a note underneath on which he had scrawled: I found your Prince Charming. Eat the apple. All’s well.
Saturday, April 26, 2008
POTENTIAL
I always thought that if i reached my potential i would die. Enter self-sabotage.
Now i nudge myself to change my orientation in time and space to see that there is not one path, not one goal, not one potential.
There is one step, then another, another, a goal realized, then ooops.....that leads to another goal, another potential reached.
Levels of potential.
Potential of the day!
My highest step to take is to die happy, content, and satisfied with my time amongst the living.
It is not one huge 'got it!'
but one level of potential after another
to feel very good about experiencing
to feel encouraged to take the next step to unfolding
Conscious living is an unfolding of what can be offered to the world in the name of wisdom
bottom-line truths
Always and forever...everywhere.
So i tell self-sabotage to take a day off
Stay if you want but kindly get out of my way
for a day
then another
another
Move it busta'...i wanna live life.
I cannot know for certain all of my potentials
can't plan them
know all outcomes
But i can strive to grow
knowing that
The daily process of being aware is a potential reached in itself
with the almighty reward of change.
Now i nudge myself to change my orientation in time and space to see that there is not one path, not one goal, not one potential.
There is one step, then another, another, a goal realized, then ooops.....that leads to another goal, another potential reached.
Levels of potential.
Potential of the day!
My highest step to take is to die happy, content, and satisfied with my time amongst the living.
It is not one huge 'got it!'
but one level of potential after another
to feel very good about experiencing
to feel encouraged to take the next step to unfolding
Conscious living is an unfolding of what can be offered to the world in the name of wisdom
bottom-line truths
Always and forever...everywhere.
So i tell self-sabotage to take a day off
Stay if you want but kindly get out of my way
for a day
then another
another
Move it busta'...i wanna live life.
I cannot know for certain all of my potentials
can't plan them
know all outcomes
But i can strive to grow
knowing that
The daily process of being aware is a potential reached in itself
with the almighty reward of change.
Sunday, April 6, 2008
Finding Timbuktoo - part one
FINDING TIMBUKOO
Part one
I had been but a thread's width from death, and in healing had to remain steadfastly in the present. The ego took a back seat to Being. How do I know? Because my first rendezvous with the Pacific Ocean brought a moment of Grace.
As I stepped onto the sand my feet were bathed in warm submersion and gentle rubbing. It had been four months without breathing in the salt air and hearing the sound of continuous power.....the waves rolling in, the negative ions washing away emotion. My head lifted towards the west and my eyes more than saw. They experienced the timeless, true ocean. A turquoise so brilliant, I gasped. I could not move. I dared not move, because intuitively I knew that I was floating on a different energy than those around me. I stayed still in wonder, aware only of the intense blue. Forever blue. True blue. Deep, vibrant blue. My Being was physically binging.
Then someone asked me a question. I responded and thus shifted onto the common energy field. The turquoise faded to an ocean color I had seen many times before. The magic was done. The moment stored away into gratefulness.
How fragile is Grace.
How beautiful to be Alive.
Part one
I had been but a thread's width from death, and in healing had to remain steadfastly in the present. The ego took a back seat to Being. How do I know? Because my first rendezvous with the Pacific Ocean brought a moment of Grace.
As I stepped onto the sand my feet were bathed in warm submersion and gentle rubbing. It had been four months without breathing in the salt air and hearing the sound of continuous power.....the waves rolling in, the negative ions washing away emotion. My head lifted towards the west and my eyes more than saw. They experienced the timeless, true ocean. A turquoise so brilliant, I gasped. I could not move. I dared not move, because intuitively I knew that I was floating on a different energy than those around me. I stayed still in wonder, aware only of the intense blue. Forever blue. True blue. Deep, vibrant blue. My Being was physically binging.
Then someone asked me a question. I responded and thus shifted onto the common energy field. The turquoise faded to an ocean color I had seen many times before. The magic was done. The moment stored away into gratefulness.
How fragile is Grace.
How beautiful to be Alive.
Sunday, February 17, 2008
Rosie's Kugel
Rosie's Kugel: a Soul-Tested Recipe
Generously butter a 9x13 pan...have it ready to receive
Empty your oven of all pans and large serving dishes (optional, but a definite in my kitchen)
Preheat the oven to 400 degrees, hot and ready
Boil wide egg noodles (12 or 16 ounces) in plenty of salted water until al dente
Drain the eggs noodles, cool a bit and slide back into the pot
Empty in a can of crushed pineapples, juice included
Scoop out & into a pint each of sour cream and cottage cheese,
Full fat, pa-leeeze
Measure in sugar to taste, usually less than 1/4 cup
Drop in 4 eggs, freshly cracked
Douse with cinnamon while singing an aria
Now, and this is the secret, gently combine all ingredients
while thinking of the loved ones who will be enjoying it
Pour into the ready-to-go buttered pan
Wiggle it a little to settle the mixture into place, filling all corners
Cha-cha to the oven and place it in the middle
For one hour.
This treat is best pipping hot, topped with a dollop of sour cream and those strawberries I forgot to tell you to thaw. Get the frozen ones for the juice.
Kugel was a breakfast treat in our home, but certainly works well as dessert.
Mom liked to start the day off sweetly.
Generously butter a 9x13 pan...have it ready to receive
Empty your oven of all pans and large serving dishes (optional, but a definite in my kitchen)
Preheat the oven to 400 degrees, hot and ready
Boil wide egg noodles (12 or 16 ounces) in plenty of salted water until al dente
Drain the eggs noodles, cool a bit and slide back into the pot
Empty in a can of crushed pineapples, juice included
Scoop out & into a pint each of sour cream and cottage cheese,
Full fat, pa-leeeze
Measure in sugar to taste, usually less than 1/4 cup
Drop in 4 eggs, freshly cracked
Douse with cinnamon while singing an aria
Now, and this is the secret, gently combine all ingredients
while thinking of the loved ones who will be enjoying it
Pour into the ready-to-go buttered pan
Wiggle it a little to settle the mixture into place, filling all corners
Cha-cha to the oven and place it in the middle
For one hour.
This treat is best pipping hot, topped with a dollop of sour cream and those strawberries I forgot to tell you to thaw. Get the frozen ones for the juice.
Kugel was a breakfast treat in our home, but certainly works well as dessert.
Mom liked to start the day off sweetly.
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