Watery Vision

I hold a song in my hand and touch new birth.

Watery though my vision may be, it is true.

Flowing. Flowing. Flowing...

Light rising through me.

Watery though my vision may be, it is true.

Grounded in love,

Light rising through me,

I create. Lead. Inspire.

Grounded in love,

Flowing. Flowing. Flowing...

I create. Lead. Inspire...

As I hold a song in my hand and touch new birth.

© Kayce Stevens Hughlett, March 2012

Collage and words inspired while leading Exploring Archetypal Energies through the Expressive Arts on the Hood Canal, March 2012.

The Other Side of May... a reflection on grief

“When the river of the soul takes your weight into itself, you can release that which has died into the next world so that you may live more fully in this one.” Karla McLaren – The Language of Emotions

If a single month could be a lightening rod for grief-filled events then May would be my designated “rod.” Before you jump into sympathy mode or start asking yourself what might have happened to me in the past few weeks, let me assure you that things are well and there were no significant “strikes” this year. Conversely, it was a period of time where I was able to dip deeply into the river of my soul and emerge on the other side living lighter and more fully.

The winter months were filled with countless live-giving events and boatloads of adventure. By the time mid-April arrived, my body was in deep need of rest and restoration. It seemed somewhat ironic (or not) that May was just around the corner and my calendar allowed the spaciousness to sink into relaxation alongside remnants of previously glossed-over grief.

Teeny Me @ Bandon Beach

Unresolved grief and heartache form like mist over a morning pond. Vaporous, we can put our hands through it and almost pretend nothing is there, but the moisture and residue permeate into our deepest core nonetheless. We want to push the hurtful feelings away with words like, “I should be over this by now,” “I’ve already gone through this process once, twice, a hundred times,” or “I’ve moved past this and don’t/can’t/won’t move backwards again.” This is the place we often get stuck, because we believe if we acknowledge the pain it will grow rather than dissipate. There is a difference between fondling the story—turning a tale over and over in our minds and relishing the attention it brings us—and necessarily feeling the depth of grief or experience. If we haven’t allowed ourselves the space to sink fully into grief, then it will continue to return repeatedly like the morning mist.

My personal experience was that for multiple years May brought events of heartbreak and tragedy stacked and piled upon each other. I responded by attempting to move forward, not slowing down, and pushing through the pain rather than relinquishing and melting into it. I rarely found the space (or acknowledged the need) to sink into the slow movement for which my body longed. Like crop-generating fields, we can continue “producing” for numerous years until all the nutrients (life/spirit) are leached from our soil and there is nothing left to give. Just as the fields need to lie fallow to regenerate, so do we. This May became the month for me to rest, relax, restore and unplug... to lie fallow.

Turtle Steps

In hindsight, I realized that most of the month was spent living on the water... Maui, the Oregon Coast, Lakebay. There I stood watching and playing with the tides as I felt my past and present connect to the deep river of my soul. Grounding, resting, watching, letting go... my spirit was washed like baptism as I named, felt, and honored the waves of longstanding grief.

Today, I find myself on the other side of May. The past is still the past—where loved ones have moved on and my heart bears the scars of breakage, but I arise cleansed, refreshed, and more clear after having dipped deeply into the river of soul rather than continuing to paddle madly on the surface of a stagnant pond.

Ponder this...

·      What is lingering in your life that must be mourned? What do you carry that needs to be released completely?

·      Notice if statements like 'I should be over this,' 'I’ve already gone through this once,' or 'I don’t want to go backwards' arise in your mind indicating a resistance to fully accepting or honoring loss and profound transitions.

·      Consider how and where you can make space to sink into the river of the soul.

Two Seals and a Gift

Bandon, OR Beach

Nature offers an amazing gift of bringing us back to center when life feels out of balance. One of my favorite ways to explore just about anything is through the use of metaphor. How is this like that? While visiting the Oregon coast, my questions emerged something like this: How is the baby seal who strives to climb atop a slippery rock like my current situation? How is the beach covered in fog similar to my brain that refuses to clear? What of the sun that remains concealed from sight? Are my dreams hiding in plain view or are they just over the horizon?

One evening while beach combing, I paused to watch a group of sea lions gathered in the swelling tide. Eyes trained on the youngest pup, I was mesmerized by his struggle to climb atop the slippery embankment where his mother perched precariously. My maternal instincts were tugged by his unfruitful tenacity, and part of me wanted to wade into the icy surf and boost him onto the oblong pillar. Fortunately my sanity prevailed. After all, if he, an able-bodied water creature, couldn’t do it on his own, what benefit would I, a moderate swimmer at best, be to him? Nonetheless, our natural instincts are often to reach toward those we momentarily consider less capable—children, clients, co-workers, strangers—while setting aside our own care and safety in the midst.

Baby Reaches Mama (momentarily)

As I continued to observe the scene before me, I focused on the mother who lay upon the craggy peak—her pose precarious, like a crescent moon tilted on its side and loosely balanced on a rocking pebble. She appeared neither concerned about her shaky state or that of her offspring diligently attempting to reach her. Occasionally, she raised her head to look around, but then lay back to rest. She wisely knew the rhythm of the tide would ultimately ease her off the rock and into the water, reuniting her and her babe.

Recalling this scene later, I asked the questions: How is this like my calling today? Will I clear my head enough to look around and inquire: What do I need? What next? What will bring me life, rest, joy, peace, and love? Even though my initial response was to rescue the striving pup, my deep resonance was not with him... I have done enough striving for a lifetime. Today I choose to wonder how I can rise up like the wizened matriarch, peer around, and allow the flow of life to gently carry me into the sea and off my own precarious perch.

My assessment is not that the mother sea lion is resigned to her existence, but rather she has learned the rhythms of her life and chooses to go with them rather than struggle against the raging tides. Her young pup expends his energy in his own natural (and necessary) process of maturation. Each are appropriate for their time and stage in life.

Curious!

Today I invite you to consider this: Where do you struggle and strain when letting go might serve you better? What energy needs to be expended to bring your life (mind, spirit, body) into balance or maturation? How is this like that? Where might nature guide you today?

Pondering... 30 in 30 - Day 11

"Why are bathtubs the best places to ponder -- with AND without water?!" - today's ponder prompt from betsy p.

Awaking in the middle of the night in a rustic retreat center, I toss and turn in the bed that is temporarily mine. My sleeping roommate snoozes less than four feet away and I quickly scan the room for non-disruptive midnight options. Turning the light on seems offensive and it's too dark and cold to venture outside. Stealthily I gather my pillows and reach for my notepad as I make my way toward the sole other room in our modest abode - the bathroom.

Immersing myself in the ceramic tub devoid of water, a single drip escapes the faucet and startles me further awake as it lands on my bare toe. Feather-like pillows cushion my body and act as amniotic fluid in this man-made womb. Eventually my nighttime restlessness begins to lessen as I mold myself to the curved fixture designed specifically for holding the human form. (While showers have their own special kind of magic with their resemblance to rain pouring from the sky, there's nothing quite as nurturing as a tub.)

In my nighttime cradle, I've found the perfect incubator for idea nurturing and dream making. I'm reminded of another friend who loves to sit in the bathtub for hours on end - without water. Her inspiration helped me discover these abodes as the near perfect pondering place. Instant mood setting is available in a moment's notice with customized climate control. You can fill it up with hot water or cold; to the brim or ankle deep; with bubbles and aromatherapy or crystal clear; and perhaps most important and least considered, you can order it dry and have your own holding place within seconds. Add some pillows, a candle or two and if you're lucky a window with a view. Voila, an instant cozy spot to bring on the percolating, gestating, resting and waiting, hatching ideas, dreaming, scheming, breathing, being, and, of course, bathing. All hours of the day, there’s a custom cradle not so far away.

Prizes for you... Inspiration for me... Check it out!!!

Diamonds in the Soul - helping high-functioning, under-living people uncover & maintain personal delight & joy in life.

Pondering... 30 in 30 - Day 7

Taos Mountain

They say the Taos Mountain is the guide to that region. Thousands have bowed to the ancient peak and asked if they might come to reside there. Legend says that those who do not respect and honor the mountain’s word may find they meet disaster or discomfort along their path. It seems that for at least a brief period of time, the mountain has welcomed me. Here I sit, drawn to this place of creation, finding myself grounded by earth and air. I wholly believe there are hallowed places that draw us uniquely toward ourselves.

I never recognized this until I arrived in places where I felt truly at home. I didn’t understand what had been missing until I found it. I am a woman of fire and heat. For some the Taos air is too thin and they cannot breathe. Me? I want to sink into this land and fold into the landscape. To infuse my skin with the red soil and bottle the dry air to carry home as a talisman for moist days.

I am also a woman of water with flow and movement feeding my soul. It’s no wonder one of my favorite activities is reclining on an air mattress in the midst of a warm summer lake. There I float while feeling the restoration of heat wash over me. Whereas the thought of rolling in sun-kissed grass or barreling down a blazing sand dune brings me immense delight, snow banks and ski slopes chill me to the bone.

But I am here now. In this moment, I shall embrace this land that has welcomed me – offering heat, sun, arid air and a deep connection to my native spirit. Thank you, Taos Mountain for your heartfelt embrace.

Prizes for you... Inspiration for me... Check it out!!!

Diamonds in the Soul - helping high-functioning, under-living people uncover & maintain personal delight & joy in life.

Pondering... 30 in 30 - Day 1

"Best to be like water... it pools where humans disdain to dwell." -- Tao Te Ching

Today I will begin with openness. I will play with these crazy thoughts and nonsensical experiences that flow through my mind as I awaken this day. I will be adventuresome and see where the ideas invite me to go. I will be like a child on summer vacation allowing myself to move through my list of desires and needs with playful abandon and an open heart. When things cease to become play I will stop and breathe.

I will remember the wholeness of delight and joy that comes when I declare myself "Enough." To stand in my own power and desire brings richness to my life. The words shift and form until they announce "I am fully alive." I am created to play and my life is not about work.

Today I will begin with the nonsensical and allow myself to not make sense of it all for this would be an exercise in futility. I will begin this day with openness, pleasure and curiosity. I will invite play into my moments. I will allow my words to flow like water and dare to travel to the place that others resist. Today I will begin with me.

Prizes for you... Inspiration for me... Check it out!!!

Diamonds in the Soul - helping high-functioning, under-living people uncover & maintain personal delight & joy in life.

Announcing... My Word(s) for the Year

My words for the year have been colluding and whispering to me for weeks now. First I thought it was one and then the other, until finally I realized they were a pair that begs to work in tandem in the coming months. This morning I finally sat down and let them dominate my morning pages, so it seemed like as good a time as any to announce them here. Tada!!! Announcing....

Refine & Expand

What does it mean to refine and expand? To refine feels like letting go, not necessarily of big things although some will feel big. I love flexibility - movement - fluidity and "Water" (last year's word) emphasized both fluidity and flexibility. I also really like structure coupled with freedom of movement. I want to refine the structure of how I do things. Not necessarily the bold "Fire" way of two years ago, but softer - wiser - more delicate refinement. Like working on the tiny details of a painting, not with massive burst strokes across a giant canvas, but intricate adjustments like the light in an eye or the pollen of a bloom. Details. Refinement.

As I refine, there will naturally be expansion. "Dream Big" continues to show up and I know my life is meant to be Big. (Isn't yours?) I've experienced BIG hurts along the way, and in return - not as payback or to be fair - I've also experienced tremendous joy and contentment. When you let go of (refine) your hurts, the swing of the pendulum automatically makes room (expands) for great joy. Big risks offer Big paybacks. My skydiving experience was a HUGE fear that turned into a hallmark experience of undeniable, impossible to explain exhilaration and joy - with a side benefit of new-found bravery!

I don't know exactly what the expansion will look like and I'm ok with that. I'm starting a new training course next week and it's going to be extensive and expansive. I'll be expanding my tribe, my knowledge, my world view and a few more things I can't name right now.

Refining and expanding will include clearing and cleaning out the clutter in my life. I refuse to live small and hidden. In the past, I have dug into the depths to unbury myself in some pretty BIG ways. In 2011, I plan to continue to dig, but with a teaspoon rather than a backhoe - that's refinement. One small step. One spoonful at a time. That's where I believe I'll find the treasures this year. It's like an archeological dig. It's easy to find the giant sarcophagi, but painstaking to seek out the tiny carved buttons. Refine & Expand - there you have it!

If you've chosen a word for the year, I'd love to have you share it here. If you haven't considered what yours might be I invite you to sit quietly and see what finds you. Carrying a word for the year can be a truly magical and "expansive" experience. I hope you'll join me!!

Be like water flowing...

Water. My word for the year. I began 2010 by taking solo winter walks along the shore not so far from my house. As the year draws to a close, I find myself nestled into a friend's seaside cabin with my beloved husband. Water has greeted me with her fluid mystery and manifested in ways I could never have imagined. My winter vacation included a lesson in surfing and a mesmerizing experience with a sea turtle. Who would have thought that my annual trip to Bermuda (an island surrounded by Caribbean sea) would be traded in for a journey to the Sinai desert - especially in the year of water? I've learned throughout the year to "go with the flow" and as 2010 sails to a close, having rushed by like a flash flood, I find myself grateful for the seas I have traveled this year.

A favorite story crossed my path a few days ago. It is the tale of a man who has the choice between a map and a boat to accompany him on his journey. Choosing the boat, the grand master offers these words - "You are the boat. Life is the sea." Wherever we find our center (our boat), we have the ability to go with the flow, weather the storms and enjoy the immensity of life. My boat has carried me well this year. I've patched it when necessary and provided a new coat of paint or two to spiff things up - always remembering it's very important to care for my vessel! New journeys are on the horizon for 2011 and I look forward to cracking the champagne across the bow as we embark for the new year.

My word(s) for 2011 have already bobbed to the surface. However, today as I watch the mighty wind push the waves across the Sound, water deserves its honor. Stay tuned for the 2011 word announcement!! My prayer, for now, is to continue to be like water flowing and see what fills my cup in the days and weeks to come.

Can You Plan Destiny?

My last post ended with the words, "I'm off to plan my destiny." Can one really plan their own destiny? I truly love the idea of letting go and allowing surprise to happen. I am also discovering that my nature actually enjoys some discipline in the process of going with the flow. Impossible? Well, consider this: a river has banks; the oceans have shores; showers have stalls. Even where water is concerned there are some boundaries.

For the last couple of weeks (since attending the fabulous DiLoPi workshop), I have created a lovely rhythm for my days. In the past, I've typically awakened without alarm, structured my schedule around "official" appointments and hoped I would accomplish all of the other things I wanted to do during the time in between. What I found was there was never much (if any) time to work on my passions. In other words, going with the flow allowed my dreams to get washed down the drain or at least soaked to the bone. The rhythm I established looked something like this:

Meditate
Morning pages
Book writing
Get ready for work
"Official" Meetings
Exercise
Creative work
Family time
Read & Rest

What I found was there was almost always time for everything and then some. By setting both specific times to do things and holding to the boundaries, my satisfaction level, as well as my productivity, went way up! So, why am I talking about this in past tense? Because Sunday, I failed to set up the boundaries and decided to go with the flow. Big mistake!! I made it through my first two items beautifully and then frittered away the rest of the day. I ended up feeling like a slug and just a pinch of salt could dissolve all of the goodwill I'd been developing toward myself for the last several weeks. Geez Louise, it's so easy to slip into old patterns! And, once I'm aware of what I'm doing, it's possible to dry myself off and jump back in the flow.

Planning my destiny? How about if I start by planning one moment at a time? I'll let you know how that goes.

So... what are you planning today?

photos ©Ireland, 2009

Water

Currently I’m working on a project** to create SoulCollage® cards for each of the four elements – earth, wind, fire and water. A couple of weeks ago I began to gather images for my water card. Using my intuitive skills to make my selections, I was quite surprised by what came together. I chose several images of brilliant blue seas and other traditional water scenes. They, however, were not the ones that wanted to be placed on the card you see here. It was a few days before I was able to spend time with the card and journal through the series of questions used in the SoulCollage® process.

I never cease to be amazed at what transpires from my own external creations and internal wisdom. It’s truly a magical process and one more easily experienced than explained. What follows is the conversation between the card and me ☺. I ask the question of the card and the response comes in free flowing form:

Who are you? I am the one who drips in tears like diamonds. I am ever-changing – everywhere – fluid and translucent. I flow in shades of green and blue. I hide where you least expect. My gifts hide and arise from unexpected places. I am made of water – even when I look dry and barren. I am a jewel in the midst of the flow. I am the one who anchors you. I am the one who floats, nearly invisible. I am the one who sparkles like diamonds on the sea. Look into my eyes and you will see unimaginable depths.

What do you have to give me? What I have to give you is fluid movement – unexpected treasures – immeasurable gifts – sassy play – serious wisdom – grounding and fluidity – like leaves floating and grass bending. We all hold water. I am the water bearer.

What do you want from me? What I want from you is trust. Trust that things don’t always look like they seem. Expansion. I want you to expand your views and go with the flow of what things look like – what life looks like – where water comes from – including tears. I want you to go with the flow. Look into my eyes and believe. See the magic of the jewel that you are. Do you see you? The mirror in the center is you – the perfect jewel. I want you to remember that.

How will I remember? You will remember when you travel to the desert. Water will take on new forms. You will remember when you shower or drink water. You will remember when you see the jewels.

What is your shadow/light side? I don’t look like you expect – like others expect. It is a blessing and a curse. A battle at times to be seen, yet always there in the jewel – always there. Water has many reflections and colors. What is the color of water?

**My new project will include online opportunities to participate in SoulCollage® and the elements with me. Stay tuned for more information!!

sips and drops of blessing

“The element of water connects us to a sacred web across the globe and invites us into acts of blessing, pouring forth love and grace to the world around us and receiving it in return.” -- Christine V. Paintner

I’ve often thought of the air we breathe as being connected to everyone in the world. My neighbor in Puerto Rico inhales the same air that flowed from my Seattle home, across the United States and then south to the Caribbean. In my mind, it moves on around the world across Europe and Asia, crossing the Pacific and then back home again.

Air flows freely and although it may feel stagnant for periods of time, it is still fluid – as is water. While water may not be the exact same body flowing directly from one place to another, there is still the possibility and invitation to connect across the globe - if only in our heart and imagination. When I ponder my flowing tears dropping into a stream that flows toward the ocean which moves via gulf stream, I can witness a piece of myself touching the woman in Africa who washes her clothes on a rock while bending over a muddy river. Perhaps it is the same water melted from the Polar ice cap, evaporated, blown through the clouds and poured out on a different continent half way around the world.

While I am clearly no scientist, I do know that water changes shape and form and has a unique path of its own. What would it be like to consider water in the way Christine describes as “acts of blessing, pouring forth love and grace to the world around us”? Personally, I love the image of blessings passed through sips and drops of water.

photo © lucy - Ireland, 2009

renewal and release

Today's Easter Season reflection from Abbey of the Arts ended with this question:

"How might water be calling me to deeper renewal and release?"

Earlier this morning I was musing about two upcoming trips - one in July and the other September. With all of this pondering about water, renewal and release, my choices seem quite interesting. Rather than the beaches of Bermuda and the luscious green Emerald Isle of years past, the Sinai Desert has chosen me for pilgrimage during this year of water. Interesting, huh? And the other destination? Oklahoma, yes, Oklahoma - one of the most landlocked states in the country. Dead center in the middle of the US far from even the Great Lakes. Not exactly the top 10 of vacation destinations, but Oklahoma is the place of my birth and where I lived the first 32 years of my life.

Perhaps that is why my roots are deep and strong? They had to work hard to find water and gather nourishment from the red-tinged earth. Just like grapevines planted in rocky ground, the roots must struggle and strain to find soil and so the plants become hardy and strong and flourish in unexpected ways. Is that not the story of my life - struggling and straining - flourishing in unexpected ways?

I wonder what I will learn visiting the desert during a year designated for water? How will my roots reach and grow? "You will come to appreciate water in ways you cannot imagine," my friend and pilgrimage guide said.

Here in the Pacific Northwest, we are surrounded by an abundance of water. This week, it falls unceasingly from the sky and I don't find myself wanting to dance in the rain. I am craving heat and sunshine. What are these things teaching me? What of deeper renewal and release? Maybe a walk in the rain is in order. Perhaps a long shower. I don't know. I feel dry this morning. Dry in the midst of moisture. So...

"How might water be calling me to renewal and release?" I don't know... perhaps that is the release.

What We Already Know

Did I ever tell you about my Hawaiian labyrinth experience? Perhaps not because it kind of fits into one of those categories of inexplicable. It was a journey even getting there. Recommended by my friend and fellow spiritual director, Mary Ellen, we (six adult family members) were on a mission to find the Sacred Gardens in Maui. (In reality, my sister and I were on the mission - the rest were more or less agreeable to join in the adventure.)

Upon arriving at the gardens, we were greeted by their giant guardian angel, Bodie. His joyful presence occupied the dog lovers with 150 pounds of slobbering puppy love. The gardens, book store and two labyrinths nestled into the center of this tropical island were entertainment enough for the rest of the gang.

When I finally made my way outside to the path surrounded by tropical forest, a fellow traveler had already started his walk. Rather than crowd him, I waited until he reached the center and began his trek out. For a few minutes we traversed the gravel pathway together, moving in and out along the sacred road. While I was only mildly aware of his presence, there came a moment when he stopped at the edge of the circle, paused and then stepped out. In that split second, I felt a noticeable shift in the energy around me - not good, not bad, just different. The labyrinth was now all mine.

Walking with gentle steps, I became aware of light raindrops touching my bare skin. There was something fresh and new about the drops sifting through the green foliage, while contented birds sang in tune with my every step. Not being one to let a little water slow me down (it is, after all, my word for the year), I continued my pilgrimage. The rain persisted and picked up speed as I realized I would soon be soaking wet (having only just dried out from the morning's beach combing.) That was when the second angel appeared - Eve, (appropriately named in this garden of Eden) the proprietress, silently offered me a giant umbrella to help keep me dry.

Striped bumbershoot in hand, I continued my walk toward center. Upon arrival, I found the rest of the world had slipped away. I wasn't aware of anyone or anything except the present moment. Time stood still. As I tipped my head back to peek from beneath my shelter, the rain slowed down to the pace creation. I could see each drop appearing, one by one. And as I felt my whole being stretching upward, I experienced the hands of God reaching for my own - forming the drops of moisture out of thin air and pouring them into the being that is me. Aaahhhhhh. Yes, time stood still.

There are moments in a lifetime, I believe, that cause a molecular shift in your whole being. Even though they may drift in and out of conscious memory, they are embedded in who I am - in who you are. Currently, I am reading about Yoruba religion (a new one for me). In this tradition, Yoruba wisdom speaks of "recalling what we already know within." While I cannot adequately describe with words, I know that standing in the center of the Sacred Garden's labyrinth was one of those moments of "recalling."

How about you? Have you ever experienced moments of recalling what you already know deep within?

For my "official" review of God is Not One, visit here Monday, April 26 when I’m featured on the TLC Book Tour.

Bodie & Sacred Gardens © h3 images - artwork currently on display here and here.

Water Reflections

The Drop and the Sea

I went looking for Him
And lost myself;
The drop merged with the Sea --
Who can find it now?

Looking and looking for Him
I lost myself;
The Sea merged with the drop --
Who can find it now?

by Kabir

photo © h3 images

Pondering water, life, spring, lent

"Nothing is wasted in the sea; every particle of material is used over and over again, first by one creature, then by another. And when in spring the waters are deeply stirred, the warm bottom water brings to the surface a rich supply of minerals, ready for use by new forms of life." -- Rachel Carson

I'd love to know what these words stir in you...

Feast Day of St. Brigid

Please join me today in celebrating St. Brigid - famous for her hospitality and celebrating the ordinary. I love this woman!!!

"Healing God, come to our hidden corners,
remove the stone and grit we cling to,
that prevent the water of life flowing free."
--Prayer from Solas Bhride, Kildare.

Jan Richardson offers a beautiful and detailed description of this incredible woman. I invite you to read more here. Thank you, Jan!

photo @ St. Brigid's well, Kildare, 10.09

Pondering... Sea Glass

Sea glass. Today I hold a meager collection, fitting into two ounces of crystal glass my mother used to serve Bailey’s Irish Cream. The tiny assortment mesmerizes me, both in the meditative gathering along the beach, as well as here in captivity, nestled amidst my simple treasures.

Pieces of glass tossed into the sea. Like memories some sink to the depths of unknowing – others magically appear on the desolate beach – glimmering – waiting to be collected – taken home and treasured as something new.

Tiny bits of amber, azure, emerald and smoky white. From where did they tumble? A humble beginning? Beer bottle in the hand of a local drunken boatman? Something more grand? The carrier of passionate script from a star-crossed lover? Ancient treasure tossing in the surf for centuries?

How began the journey to now? The essential breaking against an exotic piece of ebony coral? A fate more ordinary perhaps? Colliding with the hulk of a massive container ship or the speeding prop of a passing pleasure boat?

What seems most certain is no one noticed when the change began. Or how long the agitation cycle has spun to achieve these smooth edges. One might consider this not even a point worth pondering…

Still…Can one measure the length of metamorphosis from dangerous garbage on the beach into a treasure to collect? Oh I wonder…

Update: Pop on over to the Mind Sieve and read her take on Sea Glass - & No... we didn't plan this.

'beachcomber' © lucy 1.24.10

alchemy

alchemy… concerned particularly with attempts to convert base metals into gold or to find a universal elixir

Something in this new year leads me to believe I should consider myself a “base metal” or raw materials, if you prefer. Hmmm. Will I be turned into gold? Or perhaps discover a universal elixir? I wonder what it would elix? ☺

This year’s introduction to alchemy came in a reader comment from Pollinatrix as I wrestled with letting go of my 2009 word, Fire, while welcoming Water into 2010:

“In alchemy, fire mixed with water transforms to create spiritual power. In fact, the marriage of fire and water is thought to produce Air.”

Next, I ran across an ancient myth about a sun-scorched eagle dipping itself into clear water. "(The myth) hints of resurrection, but also hints of alchemy. The fire of the sun and the clear water are opposite elements brought into harmony in a manner that elicits change.”*

There have also been other ‘hints’ that this will be a year of alchemy including the elements of fire and water. In honor of the theme, I created the shown SoulCollage® card to help ponder this marriage. I've also decided it might be time for a re-read of Paulo Coelho's The Alchemist.

I don’t know about you, but signs are popping up everywhere in regard to my word for the year. Today, I add alchemy as a secondary word to ponder for awhile. If you haven’t chosen a word yet, I highly recommend it. It’s a fascinating way to explore new horizons!!

*quote from Animal Speak

Letting Go - Ritual

Ritual Saturday. A walk to the beach to celebrate letting go of vestiges of 2009, and to unite fire and water. My heart says to let go with fire (not of it), knowing that fire and water will both work to purify me in the coming year.

I begin today’s journey at the top of 300 stairs. Each step down a reminder to let go, until I finally reach the beach. It is windy and cold – not quite deserted. My first moments, I find sea glass – a rarity on this stretch of sand.

A small sailboat races across the Sound. “You are the boat. Life is the sea.” The sails are at full tilt. Shall I move head first into the year? A giant piece of ancient roots sits like a sentinel in the sand. It is the focus of my attention – grounded and solid.

Continuing down the beach, I seek a fire pit to burn my list of good-bye’s. I know my matches will not take hold in this mighty wind. My lone fire will not be enough. How can I burn my list? I need fire to let go. Spying a family gathered around a flame, I understand I can ask for help. I don’t have to do everything alone. Fire is meant to be shared. Someone else can help warm me.

“May I feed your fire?”

“Of course,” they respond. And so I drop my list of good-byes into the pit. It doesn’t light at first. I feel silly for a moment – old judgments stir inside my gut. The man tells me it is an “inherited” fire, left by someone who came to burn a Christmas tree. The flame is being passed. My list crinkles at the edges, bursts into flame and then it is gone – just like that. I thank them. They thank me and I realize how deeply we have shared without full explanation or many words at all.

As I walk away, there is a tugging in my heart. Did I expect to feel lighter? I have let go and now I feel a little shaky and not sure what to do next. So, I head back toward the stairs, but first I must pass through the tunnel under the railroad tracks – retracing my steps. My shakiness dissipates as I witness what is before me in mosaic-form– fire and water together. It is a sign to me that I don’t have to give up one to receive the other. I can have them both.

But, just in case my thick head won’t remember and forgets too quickly, there is another gift on the wall. “May your soul always be on fire.” I am overwhelmed by the welcoming of the Universe – God surrounding me. I am the boat and life is the sea. We are in this together.

One foot in front of the other, I begin the climb back up the steps. Step. Receive. Breathe. Step. Receive. Breathe. Upward and onward into the year. Fire inside. Moist air surrounding. Solid ground beneath my feet.

all photos taken Saturday, January 2, 2010 © lucy

Ritual

It has been said (and confirmed) that I have a knack and need for ritualization. Breaking dawn is often my time for ritual. The lighting of symbolic candles. Gentle music. Settling into a cozy corner on my daybed. Setting aside time. Greeting God. Saying, 'I am here'.

My mind wanders, but the blank page and fountain pen call me back. Books to my left. Coffee to my right. Quilt over legs and cushy pillows behind my back. Surrounded by the lilting sounds of chanting monks.It is dark and quiet inside my own little womb created here.

In the womb, we are surrounded by water. It is the air we breathe while attached to our mother. In my womb, I am attached to God. Present. We are one. For brief moments, there is no separation. I swim in the amniotic fluid that is life. No separation - like a fish in the ocean.

“You are the boat. Life is the sea,”.* We are not separate. My earthen boat of humanity is held by the sea. Surrounded. Air above. Water below. Fire within.

Where (or does) ritual manifest in your life? Also, has your word for the year found you yet?

*quoted in The Book of Awakening.

'setting sail' © lucy - taken @ shilshole bay, january 2, 2010