A ball of light passes from hand to hand as I play with the energy. I can see the sphere of white and gold as the glow pulsates with intensity. I am five years old and was told that I was wrong. Things that I see do not exist but here I am, in tune with the impossible. I try throwing the energy ball in the air and watch it fly up and sparkle with all it’s glowing radiance on the way down. I catch it again and wonder what to do with it next, when I hear my mother’s voice call to me. I don't dare answer. The heels of her shoes make a hollow sound in the hallway as she walks towards me, getting closer and closer to my bedroom door. In a panic I look at the glowing, pulsating ball of light cradled in my hands and my decision is instant. I eat it. Swallow it whole. Now I'm in trouble! What is she going to think when she opens the door and sees me glowing from the inside out? How am I going to explain to her that the very thing that she warned me about, the very magical world that she told me did not exist, is now trapped inside me? The doorknob twists, she pokes her head in, calmly looking at me and announces; “Dinner’s ready”. As quickly as she appears, she shuts the door, turns on her heels and is gone again. I can hear the echoing of her footsteps getting softer the further away she gets. I sit frozen on the bed. Didn't she see it? How could she have missed the glow inside of me? How is it that she couldn't see me lit up like the noonday sun from the inside out? I hear myself slowly mouthing the words, “I'll be right there” as I wonder what to do next. I look down at myself, somewhat hoping that my mother was right and that it was all in my head, just my vivid imagination and childhood fantasy but no, there it is, a glowing ball of energy in my heart space happily shinning back up at me as if to say “Don't worry. I'm still here and aren't we lovely?” I'm so glad the light’s still there and I'm willing to take my chances and any consequences that come my way from daring to endeavor into my own special world. I hop down from my bed, open the door and merrily run down the hallway, almost daring my parents to notice how happy and proud I am of my vitality and connection to life. I take my seat at the table, keep my head low and from underneath my bangs, I allow my eyes to slowly make contact with my mother and father, looking to see any reaction in their faces to my incandescence. Nothing. I scrutinize their expressions and can find not a thing that is different from any other night as we sit here eating our peas and carrots. “Really? You can't see it?” I want to scream, but I know they can't. They've lost it. Their glow has mellowed throughout the years and even I find it hard to recognize a spark in them. Every once in a while it flickers, like when I see my father laugh or when I search my mother’s face and on occasion see the love that she has for my father. How I wish that I could stoke that fire for them both, blow on that flame of love and life and watch it dance once more. All of a sudden I have a horrible thought that passes through me as if I've been stabbed by a knife; am I going to loose my flame? Am I going to become deadened to the glow inside of me as I get older and once gone, would I ever be able to get my spark back? It was right then and there, between the passing of the bread and the clanking of the water glasses that I promised myself NEVER to let my flame die, never to let the life that I am so fully tuned into pass by the wayside in exchange for more “important” things. I've kept that promise to myself and as I sit here typing away in the middle of the night, the keyboard is illuminated by the glow of my heart and my love of life.   No … I haven't forgotten nor will I ever forget what it felt like when I was five. Thankfully to this day I still remember and feel, all the while gently dancing to my own fiery ball of light.

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The smooth shell of the egg was easily shattered. I held it in my hands and swore to myself that I would keep it close to me and make sure that no harm would come to it. It was so fragile after all and I needed to watch out for it's safety. As I opened my pocket to check on it's condition, I discovered that it had smashed. I heard myself gasp at the horror that I felt I had caused. When it fell from the nest and rolled upon the ground, all I had to do was scoop it up and immediately put it back in the nest. There it would remain safe and bide it's time until Mother Nature awakened these baby birds to tell them to peck their way out of slumber and into life. 

But then I was side tracked by the phone. Instead of being a good caretaker, I slipped the precious cargo into my jacket pocket and ran inside the house to get to the phone in time. I talked for a good half hour, completely forgetting about the life nestled in my pocket. What am I thinking these days? Where is my mind? How could this have happened? 

So here I stand by the sink, gently scraping bird embryo from the inside of my pocket and feeling sad. Why? What control do I have over life and what is out of my hands? I am reminded that the circle of life is all around me. Do I mourn the ants that I step on and kill as I walk to the back gate? Or do I sing a song in memory of the poor mosquito that, in victory, I've smashed upon the bedroom wall because it's kept me awake all night? 

I do feel sad when I see my peonies begin to fade and die in the late spring. I want to make a deal with them to stay around longer because they bring me such happiness and I don't want to let go. It's all around us, the drawing near and then the letting go. How do I reconcile this pain? How do I make sense of the loss? 

In truth, sometimes I don't and even when I do, it can be a grueling process. We are so intricately woven, us humans, and when you pluck on one of our chords, another chord vibrates in recognition and then another and another. The depth and the width of our emotions are staggering in their complexity but here is what I do know. In the words of Paramahansa Yogananda; "We mortals have so many misconceptions about death that it has grown in importance and implanted in us the idea of annihilation and pain. Death is simply one of the steps in the soul's journey from the state of changeable matter to the changeless state of Spirit." 

I couldn't say it any better. I need to rally myself to remember this sometimes because we are taught to mourn death and fear change in our society but I know this quote is true in every fiber of my body and I have understood this truth since I was very young. I just "knew". Though initially I may still feel the shock at someone's passing, it is also coupled with a sense of joy at the flight of the soul and the release of the body. I don't fear death and because of this knowing, it allows me to enjoy life. It frees me. 

So take flight, Little One. You'll be back to be born and fly another day. For now, I honor you and your creative force ... the same one that runs through me, the many ants that crawl upon the surface of this planet and even the (annoying) mosquitos that find joy in their aerodynamic maneuvers in the dead of the night. 

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NUTS IN MY CHEEKS

My dog Oliver shuffles his hairy paws to the back door and looks out of the screen.  He searches the landscape until he finds his anticipated desire; a chipmunk, nibbling on a piece of dirt or straw or grass or whatever it is that these little round-cheeked rodents nibble on.  What’s going through his mind, I wonder?  I watch him as he cocks his head sideways to get a better view of his prey.  Is he thinking that if he’s quick enough he can attack it?  Grab it and squeeze it till it pops?  What is he thinking?  Or is he just observing, not thinking but watching the chipmunk’s quick, jerky moves as the little creature munches away, having no notion that something much bigger is eyeing him and measuring the distance between the screen door and his warm flesh?  My god, life is just filled with these twists and turns, isn’t it?  One day nibbling on a straw, sucking down a cold Starbucks Decaf Cap and then the next minute falling head long into a life experience that you never envisioned for yourself … or so you think.  I don’t believe in “fate”.  I know that I create these life adventures solely from my own soul’s desire and free will.  The soul’s need for expansion is constant.  Is life just one big act perceived as scene after scene of “adventures” until the director yells, “Cut” and then we bow out?  I think that this is a lot closer to the truth than we consciously realize, but WE are the director who knows on some level when to yell “Cut”.  It is not an outside source telling us that our time is up.  WE are the source and know full well our potentials and possibilities even before we enter this stage of experiences, coming in on cue to the strong, hot hospital lights and the slap on the bum.  Reincarnation is a given.  How else would we learn?  We have entered into a game, an agreement by all of us that we would shield ourselves from the knowing that we are very powerful and very loved.  We moved into a very dense energy called Earth and pretended to cut ourselves off from Source.  Here we play hide and seek with ourselves, grasping at memories that float just out of reach and the remembering that we are the architects of this divine dream and the objective is to find ourselves again.   In this land of fog, mud and lower vibrations, we threw in the element of time, which of course does not exist but happens to be a useful tool in the matrix of the game.  What a brilliant idea!  We slowed it all down for the purpose of learning.  We have collectively agreed to pretend that not only are we separate from Source but separate from each other as well.  There is no separation.  We are all one.  We come back, life time after life time, playing the good guy, the bad guy, the girl, the black, the white, the ... the … the.  And in between life times, we rest.  We play.  We analyze and we get ready for the next reincarnation, getting all the players in line.  Earth is a pull, an enticing sphere of expression where we are all responsible players and enlightened souls seeing if it is possible to forget that we are the Angels that we are and find our way back to Source.   Who thought of this?  What a fabulous game!  And Ascension is here to change it all … but that’s a whole other story…

Calm.  Cool.  Blue.  Twinkling drops of water dripping down upon my head.  I stand under the warm falls of Iguazu . Butterflies merrily cavort in the air, circling me for the fun of it ... playful beings of color and beauty, they are. The sun is bright and hot.  My eyes squint into slits as I look at it.  Rays, strong muscular rays, envelope and surround me with warm beams penetrating my skin.  You own me.  There's no getting away and I don't want to.  I sway with the rhythm of your pulsing light and melt in your arms, becoming one with your joy.

Trickling Water Flows

Trickling water flows down the vine.  The kittens lap it up as it hits the ground, batting at the droplets.  The rain was heavy last night.  I could hear it from my bed.  I was waiting for you to come home but now in the strong morning light, I see that you’re not here next to me.  My longing is a worn out path that I don’t even bother to walk down anymore.  You’ll come home when you decide to come home.  Home … it means so much to me.  I’ve drawn the circle tighter now and allow only the innocent of hearts to stay and share my love.  No longer do I allow smiling strangers to the door.  I’m beginning to wonder about you.  Friend or foe?  Should I allow you in? 

I take refuge in the brook outside our house, far away from the traffic noise, the TV set and cell phones, where business deals are hatched and discussed ad nauseam for hours at a time.  I long for the quiet, my bare feet dangling ever so close to the cool spring stream.  What’s going on with me?  What’s going on with us?  I feel a sense of separation but not just from you.  My intolerance for the needless noise in the world, the tightness of thoughts in people and their inability to let their imagination soar has become a physical sensation, like a magnet’s repulsive force, I can’t get away fast enough.  I’ve stored a lot of wisdom under my belt over the years and feel like a pregnant woman ready to explode.  I can’t hold back any more.  I am finally giving birth.  With that thought in mind, I hold my breath, close my eyes and take the plunge into the cold water of the brook … only ankle deep, mind you, but it’s a start.  I quiet myself and feel my expanse.  I get glimpses/feelings of my “future” self, my “higher” self, vibrating and expanding into a space where there are no words.  My outer body sheds itself, as I become more chrysalis the higher I vibrate.  Aahh, yes.  This is home.  Grounded in the flow of the earth while as spirit, expanding into the world, into the universe … feeling peace … a unity with all and a knowing that this is our collective “future”.  This is our now.  This IS our time.  We are all giving birth.

The tulips unfurl their wavy petals.  Parrot tulips in yellows, reds and oranges.  Their beauty is astounding to me.  They have always captivated me for reasons I find hard to put into words.  Have you ever looked at something or felt something that seems to encompass all your dreams and wonder?  When I look at these tulips I see parts of me that are hidden, even to myself, that are full of potential.  I see simplicity in their beauty, obvious but subtle, never screaming to be heard but rather a statement of fact.  I AM THAT I AM.  They delight me and make me feel good.  I need more of this.  I need to remember and carry this feeling inside of me when I travel these roads of life, though I am beginning to understand that the idea of “traveling a distance” is an old concept.  I am now more aware than ever that there is no time.  There is no distance.  We are living in the Now, always have, always will.  That concept, that knowing hangs around me for longer periods of “time”, but I can’t seem to fully embrace it.  It flutters away when I start to think about it.  I do know that when I shift my perspective and only focus on the Now, I’m more at peace. There’s not a lot of thinking that needs to take place.  For me, being in the Moment means giving no thought or energy to “past” events nor thinking about my “future”.  Being in the Moment feels as if I am very present.  I am not comparing or analyzing past events or anticipating ones in the future.  It is very pleasant, by the way, a resting point for me.  When I’m there, I don’t feel anxious, excited, worried or all those other feelings that bombard my senses.  What I feel is real and without judgment … kinda like those parrot tulips that are content in being.  I AM THAT I AM.