Back in the 70’s when I lived in Los Angeles, I had a very good friend who was a creative director at a big advertising agency.  She sat around with a bunch of “brainiacs” and came up with catchy slogans and phrases that would promote their client’s products.  One of her major accounts was Libby’s, the canned fruit and vegetable business that was very well known then and now.  Libby’s was having a problem.  Their canned corn, potatoes and carrots were flying off the shelves, but there was something about peas that people seemed to reject.  Canned peas just sat on the counters and it was my friend’s mission to bring peas to the forefront of the consumer’s minds and make them inviting to eat.  She came up with what I thought was a fantastic ad campaign, especially given the time period, the music, the Vietnam war and everything else that was happening in the 60’s and 70’s.  Her catchphrase was this; “Give Peas a Chance”.  

Now I don’t know if that would actually have made people want to put down their cans of beans and corn to consume peas instead, but I personally thought that it was a stroke of genius.  It was like being at the right place at the right time.  She captured an essence that was so apropos for the era that it seemed to me it was a no-brainer.  There’s your campaign.  Job done ... but it wasn’t.  

The powers that decided such matters hesitated, hemmed and hawed about the inferred word “Peace”.  They felt that it was unattainable, thus the consumer would be less likely to buy something that was an illusive dream.  A “nice” thought for sure and they admired the sentiment but that was as far as it went.  They looked at their bottom line and did not think that peace was a way to sell peas.  Instead they went with something that the general public could more readily accept.  Peace was too intellectual, too big an idea to wrap one’s brain around.  

In a roundabout way this all came to mind again as I was sitting in a movie theater in Florida a few days ago.  I was visiting a town that was made up of mostly retirees, elderly people, grandmothers and grandfathers.  We were relaxed in our chairs, patiently waiting for the film to begin while listening to classical music that was being piped through the speakers.  The lights went down as I munched on my popcorn and we all looked forward to the feature, but it seemed that there were other plans afoot.  

For a full twenty minutes before the feature presentation, we were saturated with a barrage of previews for new, upcoming films.  It is hard for me to find the words to describe what the audience and I were subjected to because it wasn’t so much what we saw, but instead it was about the intent.  The intent was to instill fear.  Though the actors and story lines changed with each film trailer we watched, the message was consistent and clear; be afraid.  Of what, I don’t know, but terror was being piped into that theater at a high volume, the classical music but a faded memory.  

Apprehension was being spewed out like glitter from the movie screen, settling down upon us like falling dust.  It was as if a concentrated and highly orchestrated PSYOP’s unit was being let loose on the audience to hammer away at our objective reasoning and emotions.  We were being invaded by an unwanted intruder with a key and permission slip to search out our vulnerabilities and to unlock each of our hidden Pandora’s boxes.  The theater had been taken over by the dark in more ways than one.  

I personally could see it for what it was, a game of control not unlike the evening news or the headlines that scream terror at every opportunity that is given.  I’m sure that there were others too that understood that we were being manipulated to believe that fear is more possible than peace.  Someone’s agenda was being promoted in a world where terror reigned.  Terror and all the cottage industries that have sprung up around anxiety are profitable but, damn it!  Even in a movie theater?!  Someone was trying to push us down a dark alley with creatures of the night who were ready to pounce.  

I was bored and irritated at the visuals being thrust upon us as we, the captive audience, were being violated by the unrelenting onslaught of psychological and physical aggression being displayed in all their glory on a fifty foot high piece of canvas.  Battle fatigue was setting in.  If I was home I would have flipped the channel, though you’d be hard pressed to even find me in front of a television.  As well, I started to wonder what was going through the heads and hearts of the elderly people that sat there in silence.  Were they possibly thinking of their children and grandchildren?  Were they worried as to what might become of them?  Were they scared for their loved ones and their mere survival?  It didn’t seem fair, older people having to fight for a slice of civility on a quiet day out.  

So my thought is this; I, for one, am going to give peace a chance.  I am going to be that silly person that speaks of love and tranquility when others speak of fear, the idealist smiling for light and balance on this planet.  And I know I’m not alone in my desires.  I’m going to look upon this campaign of fear for what it is, a distorted view and a perversion of the only reality that truly exists, which is the expression of love.  A peaceable kingdom.  What a lovely, silly thought.

In St. Lucia there is a most wonderful cafe and music venue called Snooty Agouti, (Snoodee Agoodee).  In an on-line description it tells of the food, cocktails and scrumptious desserts but it’s the last part of it’s characterization that I like the best.  The summary says that it’s offerings are served with “tranquillity and a cool breeze”.  I love that description and all that it represents.  

I have been to St. Lucia many times over the last twenty years and the restaurant’s name has come to mind and has been part of my vernacular ever since I first set foot into this quaint eatery.  Inside, the place is crammed with funky tables and oversized chairs, their guts spilling out nonchalantly on the floor.  If perchance you would like to sit in one of them and wait for a table, you’d have to push aside the stray cats that have been lucky enough to claim the seats before you as they wait patiently to seize any food bits that drop to the floor.  

Then there is the business card. It is an illustration of an Agouti in a black top hat and red tails, clutching a bunch of balloons and standing on it’s hind feet in a dignified manner ... at least as dignified as a rodent can be.  To me, the drawing completely captures the atmosphere and the intent.  A tongue-in-cheek attitude that says; “Yeah, I’m a relative of a guinea pig and guess what?  I’ve got the world on a string.”  I have chuckled at the absurdity of the whole premise and at the same time, have admired the imagination and concept of it all ... the freedom to be who you are without apologies.  

I too have felt like an Agouti, especially now having just passed the imaginary dividing line that delineated the old year from the new one that is now upon us.  For all the conjecture and anticipation that was focused upon the 21st of December, the Winter Solstice found me peacefully cognizant of the world at large.  I tried to enter into that period without expectation.  As I meditated and went about my day, I felt a genuine connection to all, the seen and the unseen, an affinity to the web that links us together as one.  And in this connection, I felt possibilities, renewal and a strong sense of collective energy that was inspiring.  It was a very powerful time for me personally but the awareness that I was tapping into had potential on an even grander scale, an exponential fuse that once lit, would become a blinding undeniable force that would flood the planet.  The days of darkness were gone and we’ve just begun.  The feeling was big ... very big ... palpable and tangible.  The intense energies on that particular day and for many days that have followed were ones of allowing, flowing and love.  Yes, I know that word love gets used a lot, but it’s the only one with the magnitude that fits this feeling of kindness and compassion.  I am left with a clear sense that I have shifted and have landed on new ground.  This understanding and perception did not happen in a minute nor particularly on December 21st but it has happened gradually and to the extent where it is much easier to hold a higher heart vibration, rather than focusing on a duality-based illusion that occurs while living in my head.  

I guess you could say that I have made the shift,  the anticipated ascension and it’s a lot like the feeling of “tranquility and a cool breeze”.  Who knew that I would have so much in common with a Snooty Agouti?

I am awake.  At daybreak I am circling overhead, a large winged bird using the air currents to easily glide myself above the earth.  I observe from this distance the movements below.  From this vantage point I can easily see the terrain, the hills and gullies carved out of the hardened molten lava, belched hot and foaming from the belly of this terrestrial sphere.  I am circling, circling ... not ready to land ... not quite yet.  Being detached in quiet observation has opened me to profound realizations.  I have felt the winds blowing from the north, south, east and west converging upon me in a great flurry of energy with timely messages of rebirth.  I have listened with my heart to the voices of conviction and the mumblings of destruction.  I have felt the currents but still I circle ... not willing to commit ... not just now.  As the gyrations continue I observe with great reverence the quaking and tremors of our Mother, the Earth.  The land breaks apart like pieces of a puzzle shaken out of alignment.  Jagged fragments of opinions, religions, love and hate get tossed into the air, broken apart by the corruption of the senses and a reality that just can not be held together anymore.  Humpty Dumpty had a great fall.  This is what I’ve been waiting for.  In the breaking apart comes a great breath, a sliver of Life Source that spreads across the terrain, making itself available for our transformation.  Love seems to be rising to the top like thick, clotted cream available for our ravenous consumption.  We are the pioneers on the edge of a cosmic flow, pushing out in the exploration of the Divine.  That Divine Light is flooding the planet, expanding in the darkness and reframing the world as we know it.  As always, the deepening and understanding of our true nature will be reflected back to us.  As within so without.  I have great hope, love and compassion for all that we have gone through and all that we will encounter as we weave our way homeward.  This profound realization beckons me and awaits my arrival.

Crossing the Fence

In the last couple of months I have had a reoccurring vision from my childhood of a fence.  This particular fence separated me from my freedom.  It divided my life in two and whenever I recall it now, I can still remember the feeling of being held back from my dreams. The wooden fence was in the playground at my grammar school and ran along the border of where we were allowed to play and what was officially off-limits.  I did a lot of day dreaming, my eyes cast upon that open space and wanted what I couldn’t have or what I thought “They” wouldn’t let me have.  

In reality the fence was put up between the school yard and an owner’s beautiful, open field next door so that Inquiring Minds wouldn’t meander into someone’s property.  We, like good sheep, were herded together and expected to stay with the herd, no straying allowed.  There were wooden steps that straddled the fence, two going up on one side and then two going down on the other with a shared platform at the top.  The steps were placed there in case a ball flew over the fence and had to be fetched by one lucky student.  I remember one time nonchalantly creeping over to that fence and with stealth-like precision, placed myself down on the first step unnoticed, then slowly moved up to the second step with my eye on making it to the top platform.  I was spotted and promptly asked to remove myself from the stairs and go back to the school yard.  What would I have done if I had found myself on the top with one foot over the edge toward that wide open field?  I don’t know but the idea of testing the boundaries and making an escape was exciting.  

So why now this repetitive reflection on the fence?  Obviously what it meant for me then and still symbolizes for me now is simple; Freedom.  No matter how the theme comes up for you, be it politics, money, job, family, etc., Freedom will be front and center in the next couple of months.  The choices that it brings up, the hesitations, the fears, the directions we take and the “allowing” of it in our lives will be the prevailing experience.  Freedom is all or nothing ... a “little bit of freedom” doesn’t work.  That is not truly being free.  It would be like me getting to the top platform of that fence and dangling one foot over the other side.  Not good enough!  At that point I would just be playing with the idea, trapping it and keeping it back.  Haven’t we all been doing this for quite some time now?  Making compromises with our lives, our desires and our soul’s yearning for free rein?  With freedom comes peaceful surrender, the capacity to turn our backs on limitation, confinement and servitude.  

So here is the real plan; simply, time to cross the fence and experience the freedom that comes with it.  No thinking.  Just doing.  See ya there.

Some days seem better than others and yesterday was one of those days to be filed under “Better”.  

The leaves on the trees are just starting to turn autumnal colors here in New England and though I dislike seeing the sun waving it’s annual farewell, I hold in my heart the notion that it’s departure is brief and it’s return glorious.  

Watching as Fall approaches evokes subtle feelings and nuances that are special to this season.  It’s a time of awakening in a way, different than the Spring.  It’s like someone has snapped their fingers close to my ears which immediately brings me back into alignment, back into focus.  The hot days of summer and the heat tend to make me more “ploddish” and cavalier in my attitude.  Autumn seems to activate me again and I find inspiration of a different kind on these cool days.  

I was traveling a country road on my way to the barn where I ride.  I’m always happy on those days that I go horseback riding. It has become my religion lately.  As I was driving along I noticed how differently the light glimmered now and how beautifully it cast it’s glow through the orange and yellow leaves that waved gently against the backdrop of a cerulean blue sky.  I rounded a corner and approached a small knoll in the road, typical of roads here in that you can never tell what is on the other side of the crest until you get to the top of it.  So as I made my way to the top I was surprised to see what was lying on the other side of the road.  It was a map, one of those old AAA road maps that were always stuffed into the glove compartment of our car and inevitably tumbled out when we went to open the latch.  It was an accordion type of folded map that once opened, became impossible to crease and put back the same way ever again.  Seeing this lonely map spread out in the middle of the road immediately struck me as funny and I laughed as I breezed on by it.  I hadn’t seen a map like that in ages.  With the advent of the GPS, who knew that they were still being made?  Here was this one lone map, being tossed and turned with every air current that came along and gave it flight.  When I thought about it, I imagined someone wandering the countryside, pathetically trying to find their way from “here” to “there” after having lost their map because it flew out the window.  I started thinking of all the different scenarios of how the map found it’s way there and what it meant.  For me, this map seemed to ignite a plethora of interpretations and possibilities.  Was the Universe giving me a hint?  “Deborah you’re lost.  Here’s a map.  Now go and find yourself.”  Giggle, giggle.  Or was it a message for the Collective; “Everyone, throw away your maps because they’re not needed any more.  You’re all on your own.”  Maybe it was just some frustrated driver who, after hours of trying to find his way to his destination, just threw the map out the window and said, “Forget it.  I know where I’m going and I don’t need anyone’s guidance anymore.”  

However it came about, this antiquated map of curvaceous lines and straight intersections was lying there in the middle of the road, it’s history unknown.  If only it could talk.  It seems to me that we only really know where we “are” in relation to something else and where we “are” is only momentary anyway.  Our emotions, energies, intent, expectations, excitement, etc. change how we perceive our surroundings, so is anything ever really stable?  Can you actually “map” fluidity?  Somehow a map seems very presumptuous.  It supposes that the world is not likely to change although when the world is viewed as a living, thriving being, modifying itself as it moves through it’s gyrations and metamorphoses, how is it that a map can even assume to plot it’s highways and byways?  Maps are so 2D, aren’t they?  Very black and white.  Have they become obsolete?  Can we not find our way through other natural inclinations other than following a black line on a white page?  Think of all the enchanting adventures you might be missing by not taking a “deke” or two every now and then.  Maps leave nothing to the imagination ... no off-roading allowed!  

Anyway, I knew my destination.  I was on autopilot, anxious to get to my beloved horse and that wonderful smell of “Barn”.  I flew past the map and in my rearview mirror, watched as it lifted with the breeze and tumbled and twisted, left alone once again on the ground, begging for someone to scoop it up and find it’s relevance in this ever changing world.

I stand perched on a small rock, probably the only one that exists on the desert road that stretches from Los Angeles to Santa Fe.  I teeter on it, trying to get a better view of the speeding bullet of a car that is due to arrive any minute now.  I place my hands together to form a shield over my eyes to block out the scorching sun and it’s searing rays.  As far as I can see, it’s straight highway in both directions with no car in sight.  What if he doesn’t come back?  I’ll be left as a prime filet for the carnivores that come out at dusk in this no man’s land.  I’ll find myself being stalked and eaten, not a morsel left for identification.  If I manage to survive till dawn without being devoured by a coyote, I still might freeze to death.  How cold does it get out here at night?  All these looming thoughts flood my brain and fry my nerves as I strain to see any movement on the desert floor.  

I think I hear something.  Am I imagining it?  No ... I definitely hear something far away but it’s getting closer  ... I think.  Yes!  I hear the long distance sound of what I think is a car engine and my heart begins to beat double time.  How long have I been standing here?  My eyes squint and I feel a bit dizzy from the pounding of the sun and the emotional strain that is running through me.  I am on the edge with fear and panic but now I see a white dot in the distance, mixed with the heat waves that rise from the pulsating desert sand.  The engine sound increases as the white dot becomes bigger and gets closer, close enough to finally realize that indeed, it is a car.  The white of the car and the heat of the desert reminds me of the space shuttles that touch down, descending from great heights and distances with tales of outer space adventures on board.  That’s him for sure, a person that I have known less than a week, at the controls of his sports car doing about 140 MPH and making his way directly toward me in the Mojave Desert.  

The man behind the wheel is a friend of a friend, someone who’s background is a bit “iffy”, but that seems par for the course once you’ve lived in Los Angeles.  Everyone recreates themselves once they hit the California border, so you let a lot slide when it comes to people and their history.  There was something that I really liked about this person though that made me naturally say yes when invited to drive to Santa Fe with him one afternoon. He was fun and adventurous, a lot like me or so I thought before I agreed to being dropped off in the middle of the desert.  

On our way to New Mexico I could tell that he was enthralled with his new car and wanted to make the trip special.  It’s almost impossible to have an accident on route 40 unless you either fall asleep at the wheel or get taken down by a gaggle of Road Runners or tumbleweeds.  The road lays out straight as far as the eye can see and you can easily cruise over 100 MPH.  So in a fit of enthusiasm about the merits of his new car, he asked me if I wanted to hear what it sounded like at a high rate of speed outside the car as he flew by me.  Before I gave it a second thought I heard myself saying, “For sure!”  His enthusiasm was contagious.  The moment I uttered those words, his foot was on the brake, pumping gently to bring the machine to a halt by the side of the road.  I undid my safety belt, opened the door, stepped onto the melting pavement and with a smile on my face, watched as he sped away -- going, going, gone.  Silence.  Major silence.  What just happened?  What am I doing here?  What have I gotten myself into?  Why am I even thinking in such a fearful way?  I let out a nervous laugh.  He’ll be back.  I don’t know him very well but he’ll be back, I’m sure.  And yes indeed he was back, roaring past me like a ball of thunder.  

The ground shook with power and the noise was deafening.  He was going so fast that it took him a while to slow the car down, turn it around and come back to pick me up.  He finally cruised to a stop and in a nonchalant manner, flung open the passenger side door and simply said, “Get in”.  His face was flush with accomplishment and he was grinning from ear to ear.  “Did you like it?  What did it sound like?”  Without skipping a beat I said in a cool and controlled voice; “It was great!” and it was.  I conveniently left out the part about the quaking nerves and my lack of trust.  He stepped on the gas pedal and we were off again.  

I look back at that time fondly and with hindsight realize that there was nothing to worry about, we were just two kids having fun in the desert and that was it.  But I also see that because of the fear, I didn’t allow myself to enjoy those moments left alone in the middle of nowhere.  There was such sanctity out there and if I had listened, my heart would have been filled with wonder instead of fear.  

Fear is a big part of our lives and seeps into our consciousness without us even noticing at first.  You get used to feeling on guard.  Fright can immobilize and manipulate.  I mention this story now because I am sensing the maturations of fear on the rise.  The machine is being fed, tweaked and getting ready to rumble.  Just like my friend’s speeding sports car that shook the earth as it approached, I can feel the same tremblings being disseminated now.  Drip, drip drip. Slowly anxiety is being ramped up.  I see the process, the signs that we are in for something big.  Don’t fall for it.  Your fear will only provide fuel and energy for this locomotive engine to careen it’s way into your life.  We don’t have to get on board.  It’s a choice.  

As a sovereign being I could stand in that desert now, fearless and safe, knowing that it’s up to me as to how I choose to see the world “and things that go bump in the night.”

   

Wow!  Different energies abound.  I feel as if dense boulders have been moved from my path and I am the fresh stream, flowing with strength and purpose.  Limited belief systems no more!  Clearly a new day without exception.  Clean winds are blowing.  I can sense everything falling into place and can hear the locking of links as they secure themselves to one another.  We are the links.  A ground swell of opportunity pushing itself throughout creation, probing beyond limitation now.  Anticipated awakenings are here.  Look no longer to the future because the imminent expression is now.  In my mind’s eye I see sparks igniting other sparks.  We are all potentials sitting on powder kegs of light.  Are you feeling it?  We are all Masters in the Ultimate Master Class of Experience.  Nothing will ever be the same.  In my garden I had planted seeds of potential that are coming into full bloom.  No longer do I scuff the soil questioning my creations. Lavenders, blues and greens with a spattering of glowing gold paint my skies today.  I feel us all diving off the edge of “common sense”, propelled into a dimensional space beyond conjecture.  We have yet to fill this space.  We create it as we breathe and pulse.  Finer rays of vivid illumination take us higher into understanding.  Planetary activation has reached a new level.  Awakenings, shifting, release and acceptance are the roads being traveled by individuals and collectives.  You are becoming the archer, the bow and the arrow, stretching yourself taunt and ready for release, becoming aligned and exact as you sail through the air, hitting your mark.  Matching energies arise to meet your new grandeur, awakening your memories and shaking off the layers of illusion.  There are no words to describe an appreciation such as this, only experience.  I float.  What a lovely bubble of existence.