A bird curled it’s tongue and let out a loud trill.  The flowers on the espalier trees are just coming into bloom.  As I walk to the back gate, my legs brush against the daffodils and I’m very careful not to step on the crocuses.  It’s spring time in New England or should I say, it’s My Time.  Some people profess their love of the sun and want to go around the world following it and the heat and glow of it’s rays.  I understand that need, but instead of following the arch of the sun, I would choose to follow the Spring.  I’d like to find myself in a world that was always coming into bloom.  The act of becoming, moving towards something is intriguing.  What is it about beginnings that make me feel so alive?  What do beginnings have that middles and endings don’t?  Maybe it’s the promise that beginnings offer.  The newness of anything always seems to have sharper edges.  Beginnings are outlined differently.  Even the light is different at this time of year.  It slowly awakens to itself again and creeps toward it’s zenith on June 21 here in the Northern Hemisphere.  On it’s way there it seems to delight in it’s ever expanding ability to stay a little longer into the evenings and rise a little earlier each morning.  The light seems to take on a persona of playfulness this time of year as does everything having to do with nature.  


I remember when each of our puppies came home.  It was all so new to them for a certain period of time.  For about a month after their arrival, they not only looked me directly in the eyes, but they followed movements around my head, tuning into something that I no longer could see.  They would look above me, to the left and the right, their eyes darting back and forth as if they were seeing something in motion.  As they got older though, they lost that connection that they had brought with them.  I am assuming that they were seeing my guides and theirs, as well as all the other angels and fairies that flutter around us.  Babies see the same.  They still have that link to the nirvana they just left but after a while they loose it.  To what?  Survival skills?  I don’t know but I like that wonderful first stage where they are becoming, before they seem to have it all figured out. 


As I go through life, I touch upon certain core beliefs that ring true for me.  Metaphorically speaking, I have a sense that Seeds, planting them, digging them up and broadcasting them, are part of who I am and why I am here at this time.  Not only am I planting seeds of potentials, but I am watching seeds that were once planted in our psyches and souls, coming now to fruition.  I think that we have seeded this planet with the capacity of extraordinary collective growth and we are now in the Springtime of that growth.  There is a sense of incredible openness in the air, an openness that is drenched with a nourishing feeling of brilliant beginnings.  I am very aware of the bounty of life and nature surging all around me on it’s journey to completion and we of course, are a part of nature.  We usually travel from incarnation to incarnation as soul families and we as a group have answered the call to be here now.  Whatever it is that you choose to bring to the table is needed.  The energy of the planet would not be the same without you.  This is our time to shine.  I know that I for one, answered a Help Wanted ad in the Cosmic Times while hanging out in between incarnations.  The ad read; “Planter of Seeds wanted with the added ability to help awaken young seedlings, bring light to Planet Earth and impart it with as much love as you can along the way.”  Guess what?  I got the job.

A Blog Entry About Nothing

I meditate daily.  My meditations can sometimes last from one to two hours at a time.  I sometimes mediate twice a day.  Needless to say, in that amount of time a lot seems to happen, or sometimes not.  Lately when I meditate I have found it difficult to connect to my “voice”.  Meditating and what happens during meditation is so personal and usually involves no words, so as I write this, I am using secondary explanations for primary ones.  I sometimes channel during my meditation, which is a lot like tapping a vein and connecting in such a way that words, ideas and feelings coming from Source Energy (or whomever) just flow through me.  I write furiously, never really knowing what is written until I look back on it days later.  On other occasions, I write stories or ideas from a feeling or delve into my imagination while meditating and see where that goes and what I come up with.  There are many, many variables and I really dislike giving everything a label, but suffice to say that a lot of creative, intuitive “stuff” goes on.  Then there is the place of “Nothing/Everything” when I meditate.  I loose the boundary of my body with a feeling of expansion.  It’s a sense of spreading out in all directions. In this space there are neither questions to be asked nor any to be answered.  It is a place of being.  I have been spending a lot of time in that space lately and not moving from there.  I go up to the attic and gently whisper “Hello?  Hello?” but I sense nothing.  The space is cleared and all I see is a shaft of light coming through a window onto a cleaned floor.  All seems quiet inside me and I feel a bit stuck, like there is no movement.  I am not connecting the way I usually do and I am finding it rather curious.  Not being able to connect enough to even write a blog entry is unusual and reminds me of the show Seinfeld.  The whole premise of Seinfeld was a “show about nothing”.  At least that’s how Larry David termed his concept but when you truly look at the episodes, it was hardly a show about nothing but on the contrary, his shows were filled to the brim with plots and subplots.  So I’m sitting here trying to figure out what to write and I’m feeling a lot like Mr. David in that I’m not coming up with anything or so it seems.  Is it possible to write an entry about nothing?  I think not.  Even nothing is something.  So I go back over my notes from the last few days to see if there is anything that I can share … possibly a feeling or thought that others can relate to and here is what I find.  In one of my most recent meditations I asked; “Why am I feeling this void?”  This is the response I wrote down; “That’s just where you are.  All is well.  You are at a place where you have cleared out a lot.  Don’t be afraid of that space or try and fill it with “stuff”.  Just let it be.  There will always be movement, expansion, and change.  Just be with what is right now even if it feels like nothing.  A lot comes out of just being.  After a while something will come along and spark your attention.  Till then, don’t push.  There is no pressure.  Moments like this are good.  They are the pause before the movement.  The in breath before the out breath.  It’s the simple rhythm of the universe.  Don’t judge it.”  And there you have it.  My blog entry about nothing with a little bit of something thrown in.  Maybe it’s a contraction before the push?  Who knows … we’ll see.

It was the twinkle in his eye that I noticed first, that undeniable spark that flowed through his being and into the world to shine light upon this earth. He walked with clarity and power.  Did I imagine him cutting through the ethers and walking toward me or was he an apparition that I created for my own reasons? The line between illusion and "reality" can sometimes become a bit blurry.  

I was leaving LA and sat at the airport with all the other travelers waiting for my chariot to arrive.  I am not a big fan of traveling by air but how else was I to get back to the east coast?  It was going to be a long six-hour flight, so I decided to just hunker down and go mindless for a while.  

Out of my travel bag I pulled out a scarf that I was knitting for a boyfriend at that time. The scarf was never finished and the boyfriend was dumped … but I digress.  There I sat knitting like a little old granny, trying to pretend that I was anywhere else but LAX, Terminal C.  

The more I think about it, the more I can safely say that I felt his presence first.  There was something about his whole aura that made him stand out from the crowd and made me realize that he was not of this earth and if he was, he was living a different life than mine.  He walked with grace, a kind of glide that said; “I am content with the moment and myself”.  I wondered if anyone else noticed him and rather assumed not because he was there for one purpose and one purpose only.  He was there to meet me or rather to come close and share his energy, so I was not the least bit surprised when he took the seat right next to mine.  It was reserved for him.  

We greeted each other as equals in that moment of time, dispensed with the platitudes and got down to a discussion about choices, roads that we had traveled and the knowledge that we gained from our choosing. Never once did we ask each other what we did for a living or where we lived.  His talk with me was allegorical in nature, metaphors that truly could have been taken on so many different levels but of course my understanding was from the heart and he knew that.  Meanings and assumptions were transferred by subtle inferences and intonations.  It was as if my soul was ravaged but now was slowly being nourished, filled to the brim with prana.  

I don’t really remember him getting up to leave. For that matter, I don’t remember gathering my belongings or boarding the plane.  When I finally became cognizant of my surroundings I realized that I was in my seat and we were getting ready for take off.  Was he on this flight I wondered? Where did he go?  Did he board this plane?  All of a sudden it became too much to think about.  I felt as if I had had an encounter with Infinity and I was tired.  I looked around the plane to find any available seats that were not taken and noticed some empty ones in back.  After the plane had taken off and we were safely winging our way to the Big Apple, I scrambled to the empty seats before anyone else got to them, threw a warm blanket over myself and fell fast asleep.  

I was awakened by the noise of the landing gear being dropped and locked into place and a friendly attendant telling me that it was time to land.  I sat upright with a start, buckled my seat belt around my waist and felt a little uneasy about the fact that six hours had passed and I was aware of nothing.  

As I sat wondering where I had been for the duration of the flight, I noticed a piece of paper lying there on my bags.  I picked it up and started to read.  This is what it said; “Dearest Angel, it does not surprise me that you have captured the only four available seats left on the plane. I saw you in the lounge, knitting away like a fair maiden and now find you sleeping as an innocent child.  Your power is great and your heart is open.  May you travel the roads ahead with love and wisdom, harnessing the power that you have at your command.  You will live a life of importance and meaning.  Godspeed.”  

I looked up and searched the plane but couldn’t find him.  With my heart pounding I quickly deboarded and began to scour the airport.  I swear my mission was to find him and see him in the flesh.  My scientific mind wanted proof that he was a man but my heart danced in excitement knowing that I had just experienced greatness.  He simply wasn’t to be found.  

I stood at that luggage carousel watching the bags go round and round while waiting for him to claim his, but I waited in vain.  He was gone … or didn’t exist … or a little bit of both.  I truly can’t tell you what happened that day but I felt as if I had touched something amazing and alive and although “he” was the catalyst, the greatness that I felt was inside of me and all he did was point the way.

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I sat on the front steps looking out at the farm.  The large white colonial house towered behind me.  As I gazed straight ahead I could see the horses eating grass and ambling along through the lush green pastures.  A few out buildings dotted the landscape to my right, the tack room and red barns that stored the hay and saddles.  The horse that I rode today was being let out to graze after having been wiped down and cooled off, not that I gave him much of a challenge.  As a matter of fact I could hear him thinking as we rode along, “Really?  This is it?  No canters?  No gallops?  I like you!”  Anyway it was too hot for all that fanfare but most of all, it was raspberry season.  As we walked along through the wooded path, the raspberry bushes came right up to my stirrups and all I had to do was bend down every few yards and grab a handful, being very careful not to cut myself on the thorns.  Even if I did, it was worth it.  What are a few scratches compared to a handful of eatable gold?  To me, this was heaven.  I needed this time alone because the night before I had attended a dinner party. There were all the usual suspects from the area, some I knew and others I recognized in passing.  As I listened to the conversations at the party, judgment in one way or another seemed to be at the forefront of many of them.  I strained to hear harmony in the voices, knowing that it was right below the surface, but all I could hear was discord that evening.  As I rode along today I got to thinking about judgment and a picture popped into my mind, one of a referee on the sidelines wearing a black and white striped shirt.  He had a whistle around his neck and was clutching a clipboard.  He was comparing, measuring and critiquing.  Ahh, yes!  Judgment personified!  You’re not in the game but separate from it.  In nature one is not separate from Source.  There are no judgments in nature.  Judgment separates us not only from Source Energy but also from each other.  If you can take a higher point of view and a different perspective, you realize that judgment is just a preference with a charge.  Take away the emotional charge to something and you simply observe and decide what you would prefer, how you would like to spend your life, with whom you would like to associate with, etc.  A very subtle shift but a big component in how you choose to live.  If it is true that at this time there are trains leaving the station and we need to choose which train we want to be on, then Judgment will not be a passenger on mine.  By appreciating myself and honoring my own light, my fellow travelers will be ones that I naturally resonate with.  Right now it's normal to find yourself separating from friends and family and wondering what is going on.  Choice is what’s going on.  On a very innate level we are all creating our worlds, the New Earths so to speak and surrounding ourselves with people who respect us and with whom we share genuine love.  These trains will become more and more separate as they travel further down the track. What you may find acceptable now and with whom you share your time, may ultimately become strange bedfellows down the line.  Though the differences may seem subtle, they will become excruciatingly obvious to our hearts and souls as we shift to new paradigms.  Separation and choosing what naturally resonates with us will become second nature and not something that we think about but instead will be a natural unfolding of our true selves.  Which brings me back full circle … nature and raspberries.  Note to self; make sure to pack a plethora of fresh raspberries for the train trip and don’t forget the case of champagne! 

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…