On the streets of New York City one can find a variety of shops, food, people and cars but it’s certainly not the first place that I would look to find my child within.

Mid-town Manhattan was a pulsing stream of minds and hearts that day, pounding the pavement with unflinching determination.  It is a system of moveable parts and either you are a part of that stream of humanity or you need to step aside, because there is no room for hesitation or foolishness.  The machine of City Life is much bigger than all of us and seems to operate efficiently if it is fed the diet of “cooperation”.  

When you have seen just about everything that one can possibly imagine on these streets, you tend to walk along in a bubble of solitude.  Making eye contact is strictly “verboten”.  As awful as that may sound, there is a certain amount of anonymity and freedom that occurs when everyone walks along with a “Do Not Disturb” sign around their necks.  That day though, the walls of seclusion and privacy were about to be shattered for a lucky few.

The first high-pitched shriek came from a toddler in a baby stroller and as if they were in the thick of the Amazon jungle, the call went out and was echoed and answered by yet another young one in a carriage.  The screams of acknowledgement of each other sounded primal, ape-like fists pounding against their tiny chests crying out in recognition.  The babies had seen each other from afar, each snuggled comfortably in their chariots with their mothers at the helm.  The mothers, whom apparently had no choice in the matter, were being led onward by flailing arms and more squeaks and mumblings.  The women were strangers to each other but driven by their children’s excitement, they quickly pushed their strollers closer and closer together, until the babies were finally face to face.  I stopped in my tracks, a rock in the middle of a stream of people that were suddenly forced to flow around me.  I watched and my heart began to open.  These two old souls, delighting in their artistry and know-how, managed to meet up again in this life time and apparently had a lot to discuss.  They squealed with happiness and jabbed at each other as if to say; “Can you believe this?  What are YOU doing in this neighborhood?”  As I watched the depth of communication and love that flowed between these two, I was suddenly transported to a place deep inside.  I began to reclaim my humanness, my direct appreciation of qualities that we all have in common but over time, seem to bury.  As they so innocently held court in the middle of this noisy jungle, I could tell that they had it all figured out.  They were showing me and the others with eyes to see, the brilliance of life, the delight and the exuberance of life that is still there for the taking.  How is it that we allow ourselves to forget this feeling?  Why do we dull ourselves with more “important” things?  

I suddenly had a clearer perspective of how easy it was to be in tune with what really mattered and in that moment of understanding, I felt tears of love and appreciation.  Apparently I wasn’t the only one that felt that wave of awareness shower over us because as I looked around at the others who were captivated by the moment, I could sense that we all seemed to “get it” at the same time ... and that’s when the walls came tumbling down.  On that teeming sidewalk filled with “strangers”, we all felt that unmistakeable thread of connection.  For a New York minute, time had stopped for us and we stood there, openly consuming the life force that we were tapped into.

After a while it was time to move on.  The babies had stopped their sharing and settled back into their buggies, probably having made plans to meet up again in twenty years. They seemed satisfied with their exchange and were ready to move forward and experience the next encounter that life had to offer.  I too felt energized from the experience and with a renewed sense of excitement for life, hit the pavements once again, but this time, I felt open and ready to receive ... with a most noticeable lightness of being.

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Dearest Merlin,

As I was watching the movie Camelot and gazed upon Arthur, his soul laid bare to you, I could feel his Longing.  When he asked you; “Merlin, make me a hawk!  Let me fly away from here!” he wanted to be free from himself and his Longing, so he flew high and observed from above all that was to be seen from a bird’s perspective.  He was able to get an overall view of his life and be transported to a place of detachment.  But still he had to come back to earth to enter into the game again and try and fill that void in his heart and it was then that I began to wonder; Is Longing a vehicle for enlightenment, the unsung hero of the human complex?  If Longing is a strong desire, especially for something unattainable, might it be the driving force behind our awakening, a constant need that propels us forward?  Whenever I feel Longing in myself or see it in others, it rises up as a need that will never be quenched, a desire never to be extinguished.  We Long for something that is embedded so deeply in our memories, yet just that far out of reach.  The feeling of wanting to “remember” feels maddening, but I can’t even fathom what it is that I’ve forgotten.  A violin played in a certain way will make me Long from the depths of my being, or listening to a dog’s howl in the dead of the night will bring me closer to what I Long to remember.  If we could connect to our real home and our Galactic lineage, that would certainly help us to come closer to who we truly are but even then, I suspect that Longing would still exist.  It is more than just a human trait?  If you’re still listening Merlin, I’d like to know, does “God” yearn?  Does Source Energy long to know itself to the extent that it is always searching, always on the hunt for that sense of knowing and if so, will it ever become self evident?  

It seems to me Merlin, that the flame of Longing is a thread that runs through us, this matrix, and beyond.  The idea that there would come a point in “time” that would extinguish that flame of Longing does not seem to exist, at least not from this perspective.  Stepping into fourth and fifth density helps to widen the understanding and Longing becomes more of a joyful exploration rather than a limited, trapped vision.  Becoming a hawk and flying above it all certainly does have it’s advantages.  

I feel that life is like a book and with every new chapter comes a breaking of a seal, so to speak, as we come closer to having that innate sense of “knowing” revealed and we vibrate accordingly.  Our understanding is largely predicated on our Longing and thirst as a collective to explore the depths and mysteries of our being.  It is a process with no restrictions of “time”.  And correct me if I’m wrong Merlin, but isn’t this whole adventure about letting ourselves go into the mysteries?  To become fully realized.  I think that’s what we’ve always Longed for.  An understanding of who we are and what we have always been.  That is just one illumination though, just one of many chapters in our book, one of the many seals to be broken.  

So Merlin, thanks for listening.  It’s always wonderful to chat with you.  Please send my warm regards to Arthur and Guinevere and if you would like to shed any light on my musings, I’m open.  Till then, I’ll see you in my dreams.

My best,

Deborah

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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.