Lone tree

“Fear is a natural reaction to moving closer to the truth.” Pema Chodron

Then I must be making progress. My fears are constant, though I call myself a spiritual seeker. I harbor anxiety. Financial fears especially. Fear of losing my home due to inflation and/or the deterioration of my living space.

Of  Alzheimer’s–

of endless  daily stuff.

I’m plagued by the “what-ifs”.

Recently, there are hints of a breakthrough, thanks to the beginnings of a blessed AWARENESS of my fears.

Thanks to a gradual, moment by moment awakening.  To a fresh way of looking at the woman in my mirror with loving compassion. To the growing acceptance of who she has become in the moment.

Beyond fear is coming a calm knowing. . . A choice for calm. Joy. Hope.

A letting go of any attempt

to hold anything together.

“Things Fall Apart”, by Pema Chodron, reminds me that the collapse of whatever I most cling to,  is but an opportunity for rebirth and renewal.



Evolution of a Treehouse

A cluster of trees across the way regularly intrudes itself into my morning meditation.

Challenges me to capture it in a drawing.

Daunting because I’m an impatient artist and like to do quickies, this one has too much detail.  So far, I’ve come up with three, progressing from the most complicated to the simplest.

Too many lines and too self-conscious. . .

trimmed trees

More comprehensive, but still not there. . .

Trees 2.jpg


Tree 3.jpg

Hmmm . . . perhaps a little color. . .

Lines on my Mind

It only took a day at my sister’s place on the coast to fire up my art again. My sketchbook and paints have lain dormant for too long.

We walked the beach, shared dinner with a friend, consulted the Tarot, and chatted into the night. And she showed me her sketchbook.

After I returned home, I got out my own drawing tablet. Ta-DAh!


kitchen shelves.jpg

Brain Scramble

CurlsJuly 18, 2018

It’s been a complicated and frazzled week setting up my new laptop. On my own. Absolutely no technical help. It’s been a hit-and-miss process, but I’ve almost figured it out. I’m quite proud of myself, although I’m still trying to access my second email. Supposedly a simple process, but not for me.

It’s also been a year since I began plowing through A Course in Miracles, which has further scrambled this old brain of mine. Both challenges have kept me on my thinking toes. Maybe it will help keep me from succumbing to Alzheimer’s.

Hint of Unhappiness

The following was my written response to a former nun friend, who recently commented that she hoped she hadn’t detected a “hint” of unhappiness in what I had written her.


My response:

“Of course, and for reasons not unlike your own, I sometimes feel as if I don’t belong on this earth. Followed by an immediate sense of guilt because, to all outward appearance, I have nothing about which to complain.

I’m blessed with caring friends, relatively satisfying—though often distant–family connections, more than adequate provision of my basic material needs, and an abundance of enriching opportunities for learning and growth.

For these, I am deeply grateful.

Below the surface often hovers an unsatisfied yearning.

For something.  More.  The eternal.                                                                                              For what lies beyond.

Looking back, I would have described this broader sense of longing in my book. The underlying reason I felt “called” to the convent.

I certainly hadn’t recognize this spiritual unrest as a child, but simply longed for something beyond Marriage, Family, Children, Career.

The ways of nuns fascinated me. How they concealed themselves behind mysterious walls and deviated from the prevailing style within long black garbs. More  importantly–how they came together as one  within a world where everyone seems separate.

How intent they seemed on forging a communal way to what lies Beyond.

My communal dreams live on. Thus my marriage, various partnerings and joinings–all in attempt to find a way to come together–none lasting forever.

Community life is an art, demanding honesty, guts, and lots of give and take. A challenging blend of togetherness and solitude. The appeal remains strong.

So, yes, you’ve caught me being restless or unhappy.  When I persist in seeking happiness outside myself, and in the ordinary. Even within the ideal  community or  partnership, and within the most ideal personal and world-wide conditions, happiness can be elusive.

In the meantime, I concentrate on letting go, taking a deep breath, and trusting. . .

Myself and the Divine,





Momentary Enlightenment

Image result for black and white ant image

Today, I practice ACIM Lesson 124: Let me remember I am one with God.

As I close my eyes and attempt to concentrate on my oneness with the Divine during the recommended half hour meditation, my mind itches like a pocketful of ants.

Ego pesters, asking why I’m not “enlightened” by now. I’m long overdue for at least one small, tingling moment–a flash of light–a temporary out-of-body dangling, that would finally prove I’m making progress.

Somehow another Voice breaks through and assures me I’m already there—wherever it is I think I need be. Says I’m  already One-With.

Do the many shining moments (holy instants?) over my lifetime, wherein I feel slightly Cherished and On Board for  a Quick Glimpse of the Eternal, count for nothing? Perhaps I am on track.

Ants and all.



Grinning Orice

I’ve been studying A Course in Miracles (ACIM) for a few months now and now and have ventured out of my tightly woven and resistant  mind to accept that perhaps I’ve been walking with Spirit all along.

Years ago, I noticed a gentle Voice that sometimes whispers to me from the back of my mind. Although that’s not always the case. Once it startled me by shouting at me to SLOW DOWN. I’d been driving through the night, and automatically argued there was no reason to cut my speed. After all, there were no other cars on the road and I was going the speed limit.

Again it shouted SLOW DOWN. I reluctantly took my foot off the gas and coasted to a crawl. Barely in time to avoid a fallen tree directly ahead. Shaken, I pulled to the side of the road and took a deep breath, grateful that I had been spared.

The Voice remains respectfully soft and in the background. Seemingly absent for long periods of time. When it speaks, it sounds like me, which tempts me to disbelieve.

It is the voice of A Divine Me. The gentle One I deliberately call upon. I hold on to my doubts though, and wonder how I could deserve individual attention from the Divine. This one, piddly human among billions. I often resist and consider myself unworthy.

This is where the Course in Miracles (ACIM) kicks in. Without going into it now,

I think I can make it from here.