Emerging

xmas eve 2015

There’s no doubt I’ve been held captive in my uncreative mind since the launching of my book. During the bringing-in-of-the-light part of our Solstice ritual the other night, I decided to beg the Goddesses to free me. I decided to use the lighting of my daily morning candle to symbolize the refiring of my creativity. After doing so this morning, I dug out my drawing tablet and doodled through the darkness, feeling much lighter when I finished. Maybe there’s hope. My Inner Sketcher might help me bypass the Critic.

Barbara Hand Clow’s Alchemy of Nine Dimensions has also contribured to my reemergence. Chapter by chapter, she introduces the dimension by means of a meditation. Today’s spirit journey took me into the Ninth Dimension. I traveled through the Black Hole in the center of the Milky Way by closing my eyes and pulling all my thoughts, feelings, past and future experiences toward my center like a magnet. These were energetically drawn like metal filings to the core of my being. The process took a while, but eventually I arrived at a place where there was nothing more to attract.

Nothing but silence.

After resting in the void for an eternity of moments, I expanded my consciousness outside the room and into the vastness of stars, all the way to the center of our Galaxy.

Utter stillness.

When I returned to my room, I felt as if I were emerging from the Black Hole of my own emptiness into Connection.

To myself.

at the Center

of All That Is.

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Once Upon a Slug

 

Once upon a very sluggish, non-writing season, my ability to put anything on paper seems to have all but dried up. The minute I sit down at my computer to continue my story, the Laughing Gods show up and start ridiculing.

You think you’re gonna come up with something interesting? It took you nearly the first quarter of a hundred years to grind our your last book. You think you can do it again? Hmmmfff.

Then I excuse myself, give in, and take up something less frustrating, like cooking, cleaning, writing holiday cards, or poking through my files of quilt and cloth doll patterns. I avoid writing like the plague and sometimes wonder if I’ll ever be able to put my thoughts on paper again.

Meanwhile, I satisfy my never-ending curiosity about the expanding Universe by listening to interviews of relatively new and unknown spiritual leaders like Barbara Hand-Clow, Corey Good, David Wilcox, and a growing list of such others, whom I stumbled upon on Gaia TV , my latest door to spiritual growth.

My next book (if it ever comes about) will include my interest in such nonordinary entities such as UFO’s, Angels, and  Spirit Guides. It will describe how my insatiable appetite for  spiritual growth has brought me to such practicess as Shamanism and consulting the Akashic Record. To name only a few.

Some family and friends have long since grown leery of me because of these unconventional interests. Exploring and pioneering these ideas has consumed me since my exit from the convent. I acknowledge that I follow an unconventional spiritual path. The important thing is, I’m finally able to abandon the opinion of others in order to do so.

So it really doesn’t matter that I’m currently not recording my path on paper. I trust I will eventually be able to take up my pen and share more of my unique story again.

 

 

Small and Humbly Divine

 

turnips

December 11, 2015

While shopping at the nearby Farmer’s Market this morning, I watched a slight, dark-haired woman select a bagful of turnips from the  vegetable bin. Curious as to how she would cook them, she told me she cores and stuffs them with a combination of rice, lamb, and tahini sauce; then boils them. Originally from Jordan, she was no doubt expert on the humble turnip. I filed her recipe away in my head, but wished I had courage to follow the woman home and sample her dish.

I love shopping in unusual, out of the way, appealingly small and different place. Much like me–except that I’m not small–merely out of sync with everyone else. Like the homely turnip.

Over the years, I’ve assigned my difference to having practically grown up in the convent, but now conclude that’s not so. Born into this life different, I’ve come from an assortment of previous life experiences including: witch, a highly attuned spiritual adept, and a pampered Atlantean. This time around, I tried another unusual role. I removed myself from the world and became a nun

However, even there I didn’t fit in.

Though I value different and prefer living outside the norm, it’s time to fully accept being human. There is no benefit in trying to escape the inconvenience and messiness of such human things as sex, body, and earthiness by joining a convent, monastery, or ashram. I believe Jesus came to show us how to be human. His message was NOT about his death or resurrection, but about our acceptance of being a divinely endowed human. He wants us to accept our human selves. He urges us to reclaim our own power to remember, uplift, resurrect, and transcend–ourselves and all planetary beings. He reminds us of how capable we are of being as elevated and inspired as he.

Like the humble turnip that plays its role by simply being a purple and white vegetable, it’s time we each come out as a fully realized, divine human being.

Now.

Bear

Dont’ know about other self-proclaimed “Extroverts,” but my outgoingness turns contemplative this time of year. Like Bear, I yield to winter’s encroaching darkness. I resist engagement and hunker down. I meditate, read, craft, write.

Or disappear into the Void.

At the moment however, I’m attempting another book. I presumed I’d dumped all baggage of having previously been a nun with my first book.

NOT.
The memories continue downloading with a vengeance.

So I write.

In the Habit

purple nun2It’s seems a lifetime ago since I was “in the habit,” but I sometimes find myself yearning for pieces of that former convent life. As the season slips into darkness this time of year, my craving for solitude increases. With someone of my own to love now, I feel more comfortable being who I am. One who appreciates being alone and without as much noise. I even enjoy Silence.

As a fifteen year old, I dreaded the hours we spent in Silence, but I’ve long since said all that I needed to say. Now I take daily slices of time to withdraw and hibernate like the Bear. I let everything and everyone fall away.

Being a nun provided more than sufficient alone time that I wasn’t at all ready for. I look back and appreciate those rules now. A quiet corner on the sofa every morning is all I need. A time and place for the emptying out and coming to peace with. It feels familiar. Like an “old habit” that I now choose to enjoy.