Chronicles

On Calm in the Face of Fear

So if you didn’t know, I’m a big Star Trek fan. And my favorite flavor is The Next Generation with Patrick Stewart in the role of Captain John Luc Picard which is why, of course, I’m loving the new Star Trek: Picard.

It’s a great story, both broadening the known Star Trek universe and endearing us to the story of Picard and his motley crew aboard yet another starship. This most recent episode was called “Broken Pieces” and it explored the ways in which most of the primary players have been ‘broken’ by their experiences throughout life.

Picard is talking with Rios, a broken former Star Trek officer, after a particularly revealing scene. Picard says, “We have powerful tools. Openness, optimism and the spirit of curiosity. All they have is secrecy and fear, and fear is the great destroyer.”

Fear Is The Great Destroyer

Earlier today I took a friend to the hospital for an outpatient procedure. We were there maybe two hours. She was nervous and her blood pressure was up. At first I reassured her; I’d had the very same procedure a couple of years ago and knew it wasn’t a big deal.

But then I sunk in deeper to myself and remembered my meditation training. I remembered how to literally be that quiet calm in the center of a raging hurricane.

I invited my friend to remember things she loves like the purr of cats and the unconditional love of dogs. She loves the warmth of sunshine and the sound of rustling leaves on a long walk in a nearby park. She loves a hug from beloved family members. I also had her shrug her shoulders as hard as she could and then release with a big sigh. I encouraged her to breathe in deeply, hold it, then release.

These happy memories helped my friend relax and let go of the fear of this minor procedure. I also encouraged her to limit exposure to the news – so much is bad and scary and designed to make us be more fearful. These very simple things allowed my friend to relax into the unknown of the procedure.

Fear Is The Mind Killer

Picard’s words also reminded me of the Litany Against Fear from Frank Herbert’s Dune series of books:

I must not fear.
Fear is the mind-killer.
Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration.
I will face my fear.
I will permit it to pass over me and through me.
And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path.
Where the fear has gone there will be nothing. Only I will remain.

Got it? Fear is the mind-killer. Fear gets in there and keeps going. Fear is as much a virus as anything – once you’ve got it, it’s hard to get rid of it, and there’s no anti-biotic you can take, no recommended regimen to prevent fear.

Fear is buying all the toilet paper so that there is none for others. Fear is having enough stocked to survive a zombie apocalypse. Fear is listening to the news 24/7 so you don’t miss any important updates. Anybody who’s been following Q or who has tried alternative health methods knows that mainstream media is feeding us lies every day. Those lies breed fear.

Caution is different than fear. Being cautious – buying more than what you normally would buy, but enough to stock your pantry – that makes sense. Being cautious and proactive, fine.

But the crazy panic buying we’re seeing now is part of that fight or flight instinct that (in meditation) we work against. Or rather, you work to recognize when you are running from panic, to pause and reflect very quickly whether this particular thing is a true threat.

To rid yourself of fear, you must work at it, every day and throughout the day. This is not fifteen minutes in the morning and done thing. And one of your best weapons against fear is meditation.

WWG1WGA and Weitko

Bernhard Guenther wrote a long post about fear and shared an excerpt from that post on his Facebook page recently. He and his wife visited the grocery store for their normal weekly shopping.

The energy was eerie. The fear frequency and animalistic survival instinct palpable, the energy of greed and pure selfishness of people hoarding as much as they could into their carts was intense.

With empathic abilities, I feel energy and definitely feel the ‘fear frequency and animal instinct.’ For example, the ‘gauntlet’ of holidays from Halloween to Thanksgiving to Christmas to New Year’s Eve always feels heavy and oppressive to me. I’m delighted when it’s all over.

(I’m not happy it’s January and freezing cold, mind you. More specifically, January always feels lighter and brighter to me. January is a breath of fresh air, a relief after the obligatory merrymaking the four holidays cause.)

But this energy of fear that Guenther wrote about is something altogether different. He uses a Native American term “Weitko” – the virus of selfishness. It’s heavy and oppressive like the feeling of my holiday gauntlet, but there’s more to it. It’s constricting. It’s squeezing. It makes everyone suspicious of everyone else. It’s the opposite of the WWG1WGA philosophy that Q espouses.

WWG1WGA stands for “Where we go one, we go all,” ie, we’re in this together and have to work together and serve each other. Buying all the things doesn’t help your fellow humans, it only helps you.

After I took my friend to the hospital, I went to Target. Later in the day, I went to my local big-box grocery store, Meijer. Both stores felt off-kilter.

Walking into Meijer around 7 pm I heard an employee reassure a man that no, the store had no plans to close; the man had heard rumors that everything was going to shut down, including Meijer.

There was no toilet paper. The TP shelves had signs “Due to the high demand for this product, please limit yourself to five packages.” Canned foods and frozen foods were quite empty; I couldn’t find any frozen kale, so I got fresh and will freeze. I did get a few cans of cannelloni beans because a) I like them and b) there were no chickpeas left.

I bought what I would normally buy if I was filling up my pantry, and a little bit extra. I think I might step up my plans to permaculture the yard, maybe plant more perennial vegetables that can be eaten instead of more pretty flowers that cannot.

But I’m not panicking and neither should you.

Be The Calm

During World War II the British propaganda machine produced a poster intended to help people stay calm. There were millions printed, but it wasn’t widely displayed at the time and faded into obscurity. Then in 2000 a bookstore ‘rediscovered’ the poster and now it’s famous.

Your job now is to Keep Calm and Carry On. Be the calm in the middle of this – and any – hurricane. Hold fast. Do not give in to these fearful thoughts.

Meditation helps, although at first, your brain is a runaway train. Err, most of the time it’s a runaway train. Eventually, it calms down…and then it runs again.

Don’t want to bother learning meditation? Focus on your favorite activities. It’s pretty easy to socially distance if you’re hiking in the woods, far away from this crazy world. Do art. Read. Go out and work in your yard, in your garage. Work on a project you’ve wanted to but never got around to.

Messy Nessy Chic has a creative list of things you can “do to not bang your head against the wall’ while stuck at home indefinitely. If only I had more magazines and so on to collage my bathroom wall…

Listen to some binaural beats. The creator of the video below explains that binaural beats are at 528 Hz which is also known as the miracle tone, or the love tone. It allows for positive transformation, as well as DNA Healing and repair.”

I just think they feel good.

And definitely turn off the news. Perhaps listen to the news twice a day. Turn off the 24/7 feed and treat the news like it’s poison.

P.S.

For me, not posting on a regular basis is more because I’m not moved to post something. I really tried hard to post once a week, but my heart’s not in it. Now when my heart is in it, a post like this rolls out of me with little or no editing.

P.S.S.

I finally faced every fear I’ve had about self-publishing and am working towards publishing a collection of poetry. These are things I’ve written over the years, and they’ll be all together in one volume. Looks like it will be ready for the whole world sometime in April. One of these days I’ll change the website around so it’s a little more writer and a little less life coach.

And if you’re hungry for a little poetry now, check out this or this.

Up The Mountain

There’s an old Chinese proverb that goes “There are many paths to the top of the mountain, but the view is always the same.”

Of course there are multiple interpretations of that, and this one from Hinduism is on my mind today:

There are hundreds of paths up the mountain,
all leading in the same direction,
so it doesn’t matter which path you take.
The only one wasting time is the one
who runs around and around the mountain,
telling everyone that his or her path is wrong.

Put another way, there are many paths up the mountain and only one truth.

That truth is love.

Or, the best way to express that truth is through love in action. You know what that feels like, yet explaining ‘love’ is like trying to slap a definition on a blue sky. You can’t make someone see blue when all they see are clouds and rain.

But this is not supposed to be a long-winded essay today. It’s a check-in, a way to let you know that I am still here, walking up that mountain. It’s the same mountain I’ve been walking up for some 25 years now – that’s about the time I identify as the official start of my spiritual journey.

It’s probably been longer, but who’s counting?

Who’s counting a belief in reincarnation that suggests hundreds or thousands of different lives and just as many years?
Who’s counting this soul’s multiple simultaneous incarnations?
Who’s counting multiple lifetimes happening simultaneously through multiple dimensions, time, space, etc.?

There is no time, so there is no counting, and all is now.

Still Climbing

At the start of the trail, the walk is always easy. Wide, smooth, well-trodden, and downright fun. As you rise up (as good a metaphor as I can muster this morning) the path is strewn with all manner of rocks, sticks, fallen branches. It’s steep and uneven and sometimes scary. It’s one obstacle after another because everything in life is the path.

I’m discovering that I have a great need to strip away non-essentials, to once again let go and let go and let go.

I’ve spent the last few years accumulating stuff – literal things like clothes and cookbooks, but also mental stuff like Reiki, QHHT, life coaching, mindfulness, and business ideas.

And I’ve gotten so turned around on the path that I think I have 10,000,000 things do to and am tired of 9,999,999 of them. I’m tired of grasping, wishing, dreaming, tired of thinking about and tired of not doing.

I’m tired of taking on things (Reiki, QHHT, Life Coaching, Mindfulness, business, clothes, and cookbooks) and having little to show — other than a PDF certificate and a large pile of cute clothes and vintage cookbooks.

Paint The Basement

My life coach asked me what I needed to do next to move along the path. I said, “paint the basement.”

I want to focus on the here and now and on things that make a tangible difference for me.

I could get all symbolic on how painting the basement equates creating a solid foundation on which to build my future, but really, there are enough metaphors out there for me to use on another day.

Today, I’m pausing at this grand turn on the path of my life.

Sidebar

(A sidebar is a short story or graphic accompanying and presenting sidelights of a major story. It’s a deviation from the main thread or idea presented here. So you can ignore this part if you’d like.)

I’ve unfollowed a lot of people and pages and businesses on social media. Each platform seems more like a bad joke. Social media wastes time and focuses energy on wants and desires over true connections.

And yes, I know people who use social media for true connections, but the majority of it seems fake and fake and fake. But yet I don’t want to cut the social media cord completely.

Frankly, social media manipulates that deep desire to spy on people. And deep down, that’s what it’s about – jealousy about that life lifestyle or activity or possessions. And in turn, that jealousy becomes fear of missing out (FOMO.)

I’m doing my damnest to seek JOMO (joy of missing out) but there’s the whole “missing out” part of both of these acronyms that bothers me: what exactly is missing from me that needs to be found and fixed?

Keep Climbing

Of the nonsense online, one blog stands heads, fingers, knees, and toes above the others at the moment for me: Schrodinger’s Other Cat.

The posts are usually short and funky, the comments thought-provoking, and the metaphysical humor 100% on point.

It’s definitely not for everyone. But it’s a cozy little box in the corner of the interwebs for consciousness naps and meows that I thoroughly enjoy.

Lately “the cats” have asked readers to experiment with a saying from a student of A Course In Miracles (ACIM.) My experience with this saying was quite interesting, so I thought I’d pass it along.

Take this saying and try it out on anyone and everyone. Include yourself, and those you’re struggling with or have struggled with in the past:

Boss pissed you off? Say the saying!
Cut off in traffic? Say the saying!
Annoying relatives? Say the saying!
Thinking of your ex? Say the saying!
Nosy neighbor? Say the saying!
Burned your dinner? Say the saying!
Former frenemy in your thoughts? Say the saying!
Pesky pests eating your tomatoes? Say the saying!

I work at holding that person in my mind’s eye and gazing into the person’s eyes. Then I say the saying (it’s not a mantra, but, if it’s easier to remember it that way, so be it.) I wait and see how it feels.

That’s the key here — how does it feel? Most people I can do one recitation and feel some change or release. Some folks take two, three, four or more recitations. You may need to stop, collect yourself, and really get in touch with the compassionate part of yourself that loves beyond love – unconditionally.

You’ll know you’re finished saying this for the person because there will be a clear release. For me, it’s usually quite subtle like a gentle sigh or stomach muscles releasing.

Notice any thoughts that appear while you’re doing this. It could be something like “leave me alone” or “thank you.” You might say “whew!” when you’ve finished with some, and smile with others.

Feel free to change the saying around to make it work for you. For the word “Brother” I’ll often say something like “brother, sister, father, mother, source, god, goddess.” And I found that I had to repeat “all is forgiven and released” over and over for some people.

This is one way of being love in action. It is a way to walk your path up and around the mountain of your life with as much love in your heart as you can muster.

Regardless, try it out and let me know how it goes.

You are perfect

immortal spirit

brother

whole and innocent.

All is forgiven

and released.

The Tapestry of Ordinary Life

So I’m on my third, fourth, or maybe fifth time watching the entire seven-season run of Star Trek: The Next Generation.

(I live alone…Amazon Prime and I are good friends.)

The fifteenth episode of season six is called “Tapestry.” And here’s a quick synopsis because it’s important to understand the essence of this episode for all that I have to say about my life right now.

Picard’s Regrets

Main character Captain Picard is rushed to the Enterprise’s operating table where he dies because his artificial heart has stopped. He’s given a second chance at life by an omnipotent character named Q.

In their conversation, Picard admits he regrets much of his younger life because he was arrogant and cocky. This intrigues the omnipotent Q, who allows Picard to “pull on this thread” of his life to see what happens.

So Picard ‘pulls’ on a very specific thread in his life: the events that led him to have an artificial heart. He returns to his early 20s, and we see him attempting to date multiple women on one day.

More importantly, we see the events that led up to him starting a bar fight which led to his knifing, which led to the artificial heart, which has caused his ‘death.’

Picard’s Boring Life

And while it’s funny to see an aging Picard playing out that incident with his youthful friends, the part of the ‘tapestry’ I’m most interested in is when Picard is placed back onto the Enterprise. This is the fleet’s flagship, and of which he is captain – but not in this ‘new’ reality.

Instead, someone else is captain and Picard is a Lieutenant Junior Grade Astrophysics Administrator – or some goofy title like that.

He goes to the starship’s bar, Ten Forward, and asks for an employee review.

It doesn’t go well.

I Am That Picard

Picard is so very, very wrong about that quiet life. It was not dull and tedious – it only seemed that way through his eyes.

It really bothers me (and bothers plenty of other people) that this normal life is portrayed as if it’s horrible.

What the heck is wrong with a “normal” life? I am that Picard. My day-to-day life is pretty darn dreary and repetitive.

I wake up.
I have some tea.
I go to work.
I come home.
I feed the cats.
I read a book.
I watch yet another episode of Star Trek.
I have dinner with a friend.
I clean the litter boxes.
I plant some flowers.
I buy cute clothes at thrift stores.
I meditate a little here and there.

And that’s it, folks, there’s very little excitement in my normal, everyday, ordinary life.

Or is there?

Ordinary Extraordinary

My blogging friend Beth Ann Chiles writes nearly every day at It’s Just Life: Finding the Extraordinary in the Ordinary. As the title suggests, the blog covers many aspects of Beth Ann’s everyday life: family, friends, devotionals, teapots, travel, and more.

In chronicling her life, Beth Ann elevates the everyday into something that approaches art.

Or maybe it is art, I don’t know.

But I do know that she’s created a cozy spot on the internet where I always feel welcome, and where there’s probably a pot of tea nearby.

I also envy her many trips around the world – and the fact that she’s at the beach again this week.

But the thing that gets me about Beth Ann’s blog is that her “ordinary” life is not Picard’s dreaded “dull and dreary.” It’s magical.

There Are No Dull and Dreary Lives

More to the point, my life isn’t dull and dreary. There are these amazing high points:

Living in London just after college.
My first apartment in Toledo and the writing and modeling friends.
Life in Athens with more writing and meditation friends.
Living and working at the Omega Institute for Holistic Studies.
That amazing trip to Peru a few years ago with magical waterfall experience.

All I have to do is start making a list, and I’ve had a lot of amazing experiences.

To be sure, there have been lows, too.

Filing for both bankruptcy and divorce in the same year was horrible.
Getting fired from a job wasn’t fun either, but retrospect shows me the journey from that point to now.

We all know life isn’t about the high or the low points. Life is a sum of all of those points and finding that middle road where all is well for us.

Getting Busy

It would be easy to argue that Picard’s view of that “dull dreary” life is flawed. Through the magic of storytelling, he’s thrown into that life without the benefit of the experiences that led him to the ‘end’ of the journey. Surely there have been wonderful things happen in that Picard’s life.

Unlike that Picard, though, you and I have the ability to stop and look back and the various twists and turns that led us to here and now. Having done this recently, I am at a still point with being the “dull and dreary” Picard.

Not long ago, I wrote about how I thought that if I “that if I just put up a pretty website and got busy with business-like things, my life would change.”

Unpacking The Story

Unpacking that sentence and the story behind that “still point” for you a little more, I was obsessed and enamored with the idea of having a business.

The idea of one – not the reality. I had grandiose ideas about what running a business by myself meant and had convinced myself that being busy = business.

In my mind, I needed to be as busy as possible because surely that would make my business succeed, right?

But the more I observed this desire to have a business, the less it felt real. It didn’t have meaning and purpose and felt terribly hollow.

So I let go of that desire. It really was that easy.

In writing one morning, I asked what I really needed to do. And the answer had nothing at all to do with running a business.

Stop Forcing Success

If you want coaching, I can do that. If you want writing, I can do that. But I’m not going to run around and try to force success to happen anymore.

One other thing I’ve realized is that all of the amazing things in my life came relatively easily.

Yes, I had to work at them.

But those things came together in a way that I can only describe as magic or happenstance or fate. The less I fight with life, the more it flows. And I know that miracles of all sizes happen every day when you least expect them.

So now my life is back to a normal, ordinary, gentle hum.

Does your life hum? Do you see the magic?

Ice Cream Is Evil

We love the idea that learning a new mantra, meditation, or yoga pose will cause great change in our lives. For me, I thought that if I just put up a pretty website and got busy with business-like things, my life would change.

It didn’t happen.

The mantra, meditation, yoga pose, and ‘business-like’ things are all outward actions on the physical shape of the body, vocalization, and so on. The business-like things generated a LOT of literally paper clutter and oodles of electronic slush.

We think this seated meditation posture is correct and that sitting meditation posture is incorrect. None are correct and none are incorrect. If anything, our (my) thinking is faulty. It places hope on some external thing: mantra, meditation, pose, procedure.

The hardest work is that which we do on ourselves: that work of uncovering the lies we’ve told ourselves or the lies we’ve been led to believe.

And they’re not necessarily lies, but rather misinterpretations or “not seeing clearly.” After all, all experience is clouded by previous experience.

Evil Ice Cream

Let’s say that from a very young age, I was taught that ice cream is evil.

(Stop giggling. Just go with me on this. We can get together and have ice cream together later.)

So when I see an ice cream truck, ice cream store, or walk near the ice cream store in the grocery I have a tinge of fear.

If you see someone eating ice cream, you might fear for their well-being or perhaps their immortal soul.

Maybe you’d cross to the other side of the street, turn the other way, all to protect yourself from the very sight of ice cream.

And your self talk — that monologue inside your head – might go something like this:

I can’t believe anyone would eat that stuff. It’s just horrible.
It’s dangerous; ice cream is a killer.
It’s terrible for your self esteem.
It stunts your growth. It’s not healthy.
My parents say ice cream looks like cold mashed potatoes and tastes even worse; there’s no way I’d get anywhere near ice cream.
Ewwww, it’s so cold and wet and it smells funny.
I heard that ice cream causes you to shiver and have fits and if you eat it enough you die.”

Ice Cream Rebellion

But maybe you’re the rebellious type and just can’t stop yourself from thinking about ice cream. And – if you didn’t know – what you think about persists and persists…so you think about ice cream a LOT.

Perhaps you stand next to someone who just ate ice cream and didn’t suffer or you talk with someone who’s currently eating ice cream and seems to be enjoying the expereince.

This curiosity helps you discover a new perspective that you’d never considered. It’s small “enlightenment:” at least one person thinks ice cream is good.

You begin to explore ice cream. You read about ice cream. You learn about the ingredients, and about ice cream made. You discover it’s really not cold mashed potatoes. You learn there are a zillion flavors.

One brave day you try ice cream…just a little bite. It’s not so bad after all, and you wonder what all the fuss is about. And you start to question every little thing you’ve every been told about ice cream

Uncovering Lies

The process of uncovering the ‘not evilness’ of ice cream takes time. Occasionally it’s an immediate transformation, like a speeding semi-truck to your soul, but more often than not, it’s a slow, steady march of changing consciousness.

Yes, consciousness.

The thought pattern that “ice cream is evil” is interrupted when you meet someone who thinks ice cream is good. You may not like the opinion, but that one interaction is the thing that puts the crack in your thought.

It’s – as Leonard Cohen says – where the light gets in to you that ice cream is (at the very least) not evil.

Invisible Work

This work of uncovering your closed doors, your dark corners, your locked closets is invisible.

It’s not tangible. You can’t touch it or smell it. You can’t show it off to your friends like a cute new dress or pretty picture or new car. But it’s sometimes like a fresh coat of paint in a dingy room, or a slight breeze on a summer day, or a breathy whisper.

It’s quiet. It’s personal, excruciatingly personal. After all, ice cream is evil, right?

Nothing Is New

I don’t know about you, but I love diving in and learning new things: the newness titillates and delights.

I also know there’s is nothing new to learn, and Love and Rockets had it right in the 80s… there’s “No New Tale To tell.”

Even now, thirty years later, there’s still no new tale to tell. The names, faces, gadgets, and disguises have changed, but every little thing you want to explore has been done before.

Throw in concepts of alternate and collapsing timelines, multiple dimensions and realities and there’s no doubt this “new” thing has been done thousands of times before.

In fact, no matter how much I really want to be, I am not original.

Still, hear the peel of the distant bells ringing. Hear the thunder of your heart calling you home.

Walk into the class, say hello, begin again to be a beginner.

Dance the new dance that speaks you name.

Be quiet. Be wild.

Be all you, whoever that may be.

(And have that big ol’ bowl of ice cream, because summer’s almost here.)

Writing the Sly Silence Within

Working on a mindfulness certification, the one practice that pulls me forward is following the word.

That is, following the words that appear in my head as I’m meditating. I follow, realize I’m following, and return to breathing. I do the same thing when writing.

This practice developed by reading Julia Cameron and Natalie Goldberg years ago. Cameron talks about morning pages – three pages off the top of your head written by hand first thing in the morning, no interruption, no stopping to correct errors. Goldberg combined Zen meditation training with “stream of consciousness” writing and often wrote through a small notebook each month.

Both techniques help me find that sly silence within.

Being a Star Trek fan, I think that sly silence is the most interesting place ever. And you don’t have to get on a starship or airplane or cruise ship or any vehicle other than your own to get there. You just have to be quiet, really quiet, like this poem about writing a poem.

How to you reach that sly silence within?

More Money Than Sense

I’ve hit a point in my income earning where, every so often, I’m pretty sure I’ve got more money than sense.

I buy what I want, when I want, with one click. It’s delivered quickly – no waiting 7-14 days. I use it, read it, try it, and move on to the next thing. Practical money saving sense? It’s gone out the door.

But actually, that’s not true. With more money than sense I am saving more, but also spending more, accruing more debt and (especially for me) accruing a whole lot of stuff.

Kondo Kondo Kondo

No, not Quando Quando Quando

Writing blog posts leads me to the weirdest things.

Marie Kondo is onto something when she talks about items sparking joy. Much of my stuff does bring me pleasure as I smile remembering when and where I got the stuff. Anytime I wear the clothes-stuff that sparks joy, it seems like the whole day is just a little lighter.

(If you’ve been living under a rock and don’t know who Marie Kondo is, this video is a great introduction. It’s an average couple applying the Marie Kondo methods of decluttering to their belongings. )

Some folks crave a lot of stuff and are happy living with lots of stuff, but not me. I actually crave a Zen-like streamlined home. I’m a closet minimalist living in a home with hundreds of books, a tall stack of jeans, and I-don’t-know-how-many black turtlenecks — not to mention the other odds and ends of living, cooking, and (ahem) gardening.

This is not necessarily bad, I guess, but it weighs me down emotionally and eats time.

Having to keep those jeans neatly stacked is a pain. They topple and I refold. Then I think I want the pair on the bottom, but really want the pair in the middle, and the whole pile needs re-building again and again. The same is true with books and yes, they get re-organized, too.

Summer to Winter to Summer to Winter to Summer

Then there’s the whole ‘transitional’ switch from summer to winter and back again with clothes. Here in Michigan, the transition starts for me with cooler weather in September; I start pulling out slightly warmer sweaters and layering a little more.

This year, though, winter came on slowly. So even in December, I wasn’t wearing my warmest clothes. Finally, in January the truly cold weather hit and I pulled the last of my super warm things out of the ‘storage’ closet into the ‘actively wearing’ closet.

And the whole process reverses March-April-May when I start pulling out lightweight sweaters and jackets to accommodate for the slowly rising (and oft times falling) temperatures. It will probably end in June or whenever the first week of temperatures hits 80-90s.

That’s not efficient, it’s crazy.

To me, more money than sense means I go to the thrift store and spend $50 just because I can. It means an order arriving from Amazon once a week, and eating out whereever and whenever I please. It means yet another class about a really interesting subject that I will not apply to everyday life. (See This Voraciousness for a slightly different perspective.)

Simpler Times

More money than sense means I cater to my whims and (for goodness sake whodathunkit) think about ‘simpler times’ when I had less money. My desires were just as great, but my ability to attain those goals was much less.

I imagine we all have a point where we hit that “more money than sense” point. Not that we all recognize it once we’ve hit it…

For sure we know when we see it in others; but then again, fixing someone else’s life is always easier than fixing our own. My own. Do you know what I mean?

Observing patterns in my life and then changing those patterns is not an easy task; just look at the various ways you can spend hours looking at patterns. And yet, in the journey towards higher consciousness that is precisely what you have to strive to do. Find the pattern, change the pattern.

I’m vaguely Marie Kondo-ing, or at least sending heaps of things to the thrift store. I’m looking at goals and realizing I’ve moved towards them ever so slightly or not one damned step. I’m forgiving myself.

I’m as complicated and complicit as ever. Complicated because, in a society built around being ‘coupled’ being single and ‘doing it all’ is freaking hard – even for a super independent person like me. And complicit because there’s never anyone else but me to blame: it’s definitely my fault, no question about it.

Sigh.

More money than sense? I’ve hit that point and I’m stunned. I’m still not even sure what that means to me going forward. I’m OK with not knowing (which can lead to its own issues like analysis paralysis – a personal favorite. Still, there is forward movement, one bold baby step at a time.

This Voraciousness

(A journal excerpt)

Woman taking a bit bite from a round piece of chocolate cake that is decorated to look like planet earth; woman eating earth.

This voraciousness is about the insatiable quest for knowledge, the need to know more to learn more to experience more.

Though not to experience – experience chews up time. Learn and move on to the next thing, learn more, read more, more, more.

This voraciousness is a stumbling block, a thing that keeps me moving forward in a circle, spiral, up, down, merry go round.

This voraciousness is a pattern that holds me back, gobbling up this and that. Not stopping, not focusing, not attaining.

This voraciousness is not progression, it is hunger, it is obsession, it is distraction. This voraciousness is fun and entertaining, too.

Hunger for whatever it happens to be. This week a couple of books, next week a new online class. Or learn to prepare a food I’ve never made, wear a piece of clothing in a new way. This voraciousness is never satisfied.

But wait.

Satisfaction is here if fleeting, a little more than the blink of an eye. This voraciousness keeps moving, fangs bared, eyes keen to find the next prey.

This voraciousness wants something new shortly after something old. This voraciousness forgets about what was just accomplished, dismisses achievement.

This voraciousness says there is always something more out there waiting to be learned, so rush headlong with no hesitation. This voraciousness fires the starting gun and off I go.

This voraciousness does not like quiet and yet, I am voracious about solitude and silence. At work I clamor for the end of the day, seek brief respite wherever and whenever I can. Work is a war zone of mines yet to be exploded and such disparate energies that this voraciousness screams silently unable to satisfy hunger.

In the calm of a slow Sunday morning, this voraciousness wants busy-ness. Voracious fidgets, drinks too much tea, commences internet scrolling, video watching, anything to keep distracted from the ever present now.

This voraciousness has big plans and no idea how to keep going once started. Voraciousness only wants the next thing and the next and the next.

Voraciousness knows these words fall where they should. She stands aside for a moment or two, talks with Ambition and Conscientiousness, then leaps into action.

Voraciousness loves a good sleep, craves a lover, husband, family, mighty home, but doesn’t know what that really means. Voraciousness doesn’t compromise or take turns.

This voraciousness extends to all things “spiritual” too, though at this point, everything is spiritual, fodder for dissection. Voraciousness and Analyze are compadres and seek to solve a mystery where there is none.

Definition

having a huge appetite: ravenous.
excessively eager: insatiable.

Etymology

1630s, formed as an adjectival form of voracity.
1520s, from Middle French voracité (14c.) or directly from Latin voracitatem (nominative voracitas) “greediness, ravenousness,” from vorax (genitive voracis) “greedy, ravenous, consuming,” from vorare “to devour,” from PIE *gwor-a-, from root *gwora– “food, devouring.”

Reading Soothes My Soul (December 2018)

It amazes me to no end that 2018 is almost over, and that I’ve barely posted on this blog. My recipe blog is going great guns, but here – where I share spiritual insights and books and other intriguing stuff – nothing. Sigh.

I’ll keep writing here, that’s for sure as spirituality and books and other stuff are important to me. As usual, I’ve been reading up a storm over the last few months. How about you?

There will be one more book post this year that rounds up all of the books in one big gift giving extravaganza. That should be live next week.

Full disclosure: I am an Amazon Affiliate. If you click on a link and buy something (even if it’s not the particular book,) I receive a little compensation. I think I’ve made $5-10 over the years of blogging, probably because I’ve clicked on my links – lol.

Peace Like A River by Leif Enger is Midwestern to its core, and dripping in the possibility of miracles that float through this novel like snowflakes. The novel is gripping, haunting, and all of those things you and I love about a well-written piece of fiction. It covers one short year in the life of eleven-year-old Reuben Land and his small, broken family as they race across the cold north searching for his renegade older brother. Fresh like winter snow, treacherous like an ice storm, and tragic and beautiful all at the same time.

The Apprentice by Jacques Pepin. I love a good autobiography and, for sure, this is one. It’s filled with anecdote after anecdote about celebrated chef Pepin’s life, and a handful of recipes. There is a grueling old-fashioned apprenticeships in France, and then Pepin arrives in America. The rest, they say, it nothing but history, and the story-telling is charming.

The Inheritance Trilogy by N.K. Jemison (The Hundred Thousand Kingdoms, The Broken Kingdom, The Kingdom of Gods, and the bonus material “The Awakened Kingdom.” Back in April, I told you about The Fifth Season by N.K. Jemison; since then I’ve looked for other books in that series at local bookstores, but have had no luck. Finally, I came across The Inheritance Trilogy at a Barnes and Noble; it’s not the same series as The Fifth Season, but it’s a doozie of a series all on its own. As this is a 1400-page compilation, it’s hard to sum up the plot in a few short sentences. Suffice it to say that the ruling class are deposed, and a new class begins to rise. Oh! And there are gods and goddesses involved, too. Fantasy and storytelling at its very, very best: go read some of this stuff.

I keep wondering why so many post-current society stories are filled with tragedy and struggles. I always imagine the opposite of that: a bright and beautiful future for all. Nevertheless, Station Eleven by Emily St. John Mandel is a different kind of dystopian story filled with a traveling band of actors and musicians, and an entertaining one at that. A flu pandemic ravages the world, and -twenty years later- we travel with the troupe through what used to be known as Michigan. There’s a violent prophet, and a city growing where there once was an airport. And if you’re a Shakespeare fan, there’s King Lear on stage in Toronto all those many, many years ago – and that is the special twist.

In the aftermath of Germany’s World War Two defeat, a lonesome woman and her two boys return to the castle of her husband’s ancestors. There, a disjointed group of women gather and rebuild their lives. The Women in the Castle by Jessica Shattuck was inspired by tales told by the author’s relatives and took more than seven years to write. Grim and gripping, shimmering and bright, this novel tells stories and reveals secrets for everyone.

Looking for a heart-warming novel about girlfriends? Add a little knitting into the mix, and that’s exactly what you get in The Friday Night Knitting Club by Kate Jacobs. There’s friendship, love, secrets, and miracles – everything you’d really want or need in a chick-flick book.

Writing about American Buddhist Rebel and Unplugging the Patriarchy is a little like writing about the chicken and the egg. They’re so closely related, it’s a bit hard to tell where one begins and the other ends. For example, American Buddhist Rebel is the teacher’s while Unplugging the Patriarchy is the student’s story; the teacher appears in Unplugging but the student doesn’t appear (at least by name) in American.

Regardless, I did enjoy both. I can’t get enough spiritual biographies, and both books are that. American Buddhist Rebel: The Story of Rama – Dr. Frederick Lenz by Liz Lewinson is a more conventional biography albeit written by a student of Rama. That is to say, it’s a flattering biography of an even-to-this-day controversial figure. As someone who’s fairly well versed in spirituality (I spent two years working at the Omega Institute for Holistic Studies and writing the catalog/course offerings,) I’d never heard of Rama.

I really loved Unplugging the Patriarchy: A Mystical Journey Into the Heart of a New Age by Lucia Rene. This novel reads more like a fictionalized first-person narrative, and it kept me on the edge of my seat. Who is the mysterious man in the Pacific? Can he stop the three main characters from dismantling the esoteric rings that bind patriarchy into this world?

While the teacher, Rama, passed away in 1998, and his work is carried on by the nonprofit Rama Meditation Society. Lucia Rene is still very much alive and living in South America. Her website offers classes and other teachings online.

If you enjoy mystery and intrigue set in a not-too-dissimilar setting (albeit that setting is industrial revolution England) you just might like this haunting novel by Ian R. MacLeod. There’s a sick child, a manipulating mother, and gritty fantasy. What’s the book? The House of Storms by Ian R. MacLeod

Featuring two sisters who are (seemingly) totally opposites, The Cookbook Collector by Allegra Goodman is tasty. And the novel is not so much about the sisters as it is how they find their way in the world, and how one of them discovers her true passion in some old cookbooks.

Brimstone by Cherie Priest is set in the early 1920s where talented clairvoyant Alice Dartle has just arrived at the spiritualist camp in Cassadega, Florida. Tomas Cordero, a tailor who lives in Ybor City, Florida, is struggling with shell shock from his experiences in the first World War and the loss of his beloved wife. The paths of Dartle and Cordero cross in Cassadega and combine to defeat a powerful enemy who loves fires.

A Hundred Summers by Beatriz Williams. If it wasn’t for the hurricane, this would be a wonderful summer beach read. And that hurricane is ever-present because the reader knows it’s sneaking up on the characters, yet they remain blissfully unaware of what’s on the way. The story twists and turns to unravel Lily Dane’s family mystery and slowly winds up to that hurricane. The final chapter is thrilling, and the epilogue shows how love stands the test of time. Sigh.

The Lost Carousel of Provence by Juliet Blackwell. Cady Drake is a social misfit and down on her luck: her adoptive mother has passed away, and now Cady is alone in the world. She moves forward in her life through her old cameras and photographic skills. When a friend urges Cady to accept an assignment photographing the old carousel’s of Paris, the adventure truly begins. If you’ve ever loved riding on a carousel and fallen in love with the gorgeous sculptured creatures, be sure to add this to your reading list. History, mystery, and a little bit of love are included, too.

Christmas Cake Murder by Joanna Fluke. This quick and easy read is yet another in the Hannah Swenson series, and I read it in one night. There are tasty recipes and a lighthearted look back at the beginning of Hannah’s cookie and mystery empire in the small town of Lake Eden, Minnesota. Charming, as always. Recipes included are: cocoa-crunch cookies, honey apple crisp, anytime peach pie, melt-in-your-mouth pork roast, ultimate lemon bundt cake, Cool Whip lemon frosting, bacon & sausage breakfast burritos, cashew butter blossom cookies, chocolate hazelnut bon-bons, ultimate butterscotch bundt cake, Cool Whip butterscotch frosting, ultimate Christmas bundt cake, Cool Whip white chocolate frosting, and minty dream cookies. If you love old recipes, you’ll thoroughly enjoy my other blog – My Great Recipes Collection.

What have you been reading?