Going the Course

Don’t know why I waited ’til now to take the plunge. It’s literally been only a couple weeks since I’ve begun to devour The Disappearance of the Universe, by Gary Renard. Now I’m on a mission to absorb the best of what the Course in Miracles has to offer.

Published a couple years before I left the convent, I certainly wasn’t ready for it back then. To me, it reeked of Christianity, with which I felt force-fed up to my gills throughout the nineteen years of my nunly life. Not for me, I told myself, and promptly set off in what I thought was the opposite direction–an escape into alternative spirituality.

After having sampled a morsel of Zen Buddhism and whopping dose of Pentecostalism while still a nun, I delved into Paganism, Shamanism, Divination, and various other worlds of metaphysical and bodymind therapies. Each of which, I now realize, merely nudged me a little closer to, or dropped me off at the corner of What’s Next and a Course in Miracles. 

Each of my spiritual escapades have helped me reach the following conclusions:

  • There are no accidents.
  • Whatever or whomever I set out to judge as other, is none but myself. Everyone is simply a mirror of what I refuse to acknowledge or accept in myself.
  • The love and acceptance I seek elsewhere, can only originate or be found in myself. A humbling, yet liberating conclusion.
  • And more. . .

So methinks I may possibly find the pathway of a Course in Miracles more than a teensy bit familiar.

“The first step in forgiveness is to forgive any unwillingness to forgive, to kindly look upon all unkindness, to look without judgment upon all our judging. . . with love’s kind eyes.”  N. Babbitt



Lavender Awakenings

In my youth, I remember wakening to lavender walls on summer mornings. Brushing aside white lace curtains. Gazing at cattle through branches of the fruit tree beneath my window.

My world was complete, soon to be forfeited for a convent.

Following an alternate dream, detached from the famiarity of home, family, friends. The ordinary life. High school. College. Dates. Husband. Children. Family celebrations. I opted for an alternative path instead. Without the faintest notion of how far away from familiar it would take me.

Awakening puberty had fueled intense longings and hazy dreams. The teenage urge for popular music, or the swirl of dance, and for acceptance among my peers. In spite of (and perhaps even for fear of) the stirrings of my budding hormones, I chose otherwise.

I was driven by dreams of black habits and secluded monasteries in faraway locations. Of being swept away like saints of old to a magical sort of la-la land where, only goodness and Godliness prevailed. Where I would preside as teacher over a classroom full of eager, obedient students. Where perhaps I could fulfill my hazy, unconscious memories of a previous lifetime in Tibet. Which might explain my consistent penchant for Orderliness. Discipline. Focus on spiritual possibilities rather than those of this world.

Even now, my lavender dreams continue to haunt me. My tendency to gaze through my window at the world beyond. To dream of possibilities. Hang out at the edge of consciousness. Seek out others who tolerate my habit of togethering along with a strong dose of healthy solitary seclusion.

I continue to frequently occupy my private corner of the world. My retreat from whence I observe. My nest in the forest beneath a tree, belly against the ground, chin in hand, a blade of grass between my teeth.

An escape

a place to



and perhaps ready for Return.

or not.


“Enlightenment is always preceded by confusion.”                                                             Milton Erickson

As an Elderwoman who has pursued spirituality for an entire lifetime, I only recently realize how confused I’ve been. No. I’m not an early–or even late–onset Alzheimer’s victim, but instead have indulged in a habit of sloppy thinking over the years. And sloppy thinking causes negative feelings.

According to very clear-thinking and helpful people in the world, being cognisant enough to admit being confused is an admirable quality.  In fact, a first step to the way out!

So yes, I’m often confused. Giving way to intermittent wallowing in feelings of depression. Feeling down, useless, and wondering what the heck I’m still doing here.

Thus my introduction to Neuro-Linguistic Programming, or NLP.  Having heard the term NLP bandied about years ago, I paid no attention. Until meeting an ardent practitioner of NLP.  Who had  recommended Neuro-Linguistic Programming for Dummies, which I have begun to devour.

Early in the book, it says that  recognizing your own confusion is a good beginning.

What a relief to admit confusion. I’ve often given way to very fuzzy, unproductive thinking patterns, and relieved to learn that there is finally a way out.

Stay tuned.

Trump or Not Trump?

Why Energy Favored Trump in 2016?

“The 2016 election in the USA has been one of the most interesting ones in history. Everyone, including Donald Trump’s campaign, mentioned that it would take a miracle for them to win the election. And they won!

It was interesting to notice how many “miracles” happened at the last minute and how he was able to perform above and beyond all expectations.

Regardless of who you supported, without judgment, I hope you can acknowledge that something strange, miraculous and interesting happened for him.

Do you know why?

Since the summer of 2016, I mentioned to many that the energy favored Mr. Trump. If all things remained the same, there would only be one possible outcome – Mr. Trump winning the election.

This is very similar to the 2000 election between President Bush and Vice President Gore. In that election, there were 2 primary sides. Those who were for President Bush and those who were against President Bush. For that reason, all the energy, attention and spotlight was shining on President Bush. So even though Vice President Gore won the popular vote, he still lost the election.”  more

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Bedtime with Cat

Stories at bedtime

Being ushered into bed each night is predictable with a cat. Any cat lover knows it’s of utmost importance to be “on time”. My Missy nags whenever I put a kink in its regularity. Bedtime–like feeding time–must  always be regular. Whether I’m cooperative or not, however, when I finally do head for the bedroom, my little black friend skeedadles ahead of me. She hops on the bed, and eyes me impatiently until I’ve completely undressed, pulled on my nightgown, brushed my teeth, fluffed and propped up my pillow, and climbed into beside her.

Once I’ve settled beneath the blankets and opened my book, she drapes her warm, furry self over my shoulder and rewards me with a lick or two of approval. Nestling herself against my cheek, she commences purring throughout the next section of my book. Until one—or both of us–slides into dreamland.

Rainy Day Mission

orice with Missy

I’m on my own unique kind of rainy-day mission–doing almost nothing. I sit in my cushioned chair with my legs propped up, a cozy quilt wrapped tightly around me, and turn a page. I’m indulging in a novel.

The voice inside my head insists I do something constructive, for God’s sake. The world needs saving and your house is a mess, while you waste away your day.  My nunly self has always ordinarily cooperated, but I’m finally learning to ignore her. Rather than bolt upright and proceed with my to-do list, I take a deep breath, sink another inch into my cushion, and settle into the story.

I deserve a gold star.

Whose Divine?


I’ve been stuck in a writing rut for too long, though I’m convinced there’s another book inside. Each time I sit myself down at my keyboard, nothing materializes. Word by word, it seems an impossible mountain-climbing effort. I want to share the spiritual path I’ve followed since I left the convent. A lifelong pursuit of what I’ve thought was Spirit. An ever-elusive connection with the Divine. It’s been an endless pursuit–a series of unexpected glimpses along a journey from CONVENTional religion to anything but.

A recent influence has been Tosha Silver, whose book found me while I was hunting a word from Louise Hay.

“It’s good to know both your specialness and your utter dispensability. Then you can let go and embrace it all. You can play your role in this exquisite, absurd story with complete abandon. You can be a melting snowflake, a drifting leaf, or a nature spirit dancing in a pond. And if you touch any heart with what you do for the brief moments you are here, that is enough.” Tosha Silver – Outrageous Openness

So where do I find myself on a late winter morning? Inside the drifting leaf. At the Hummingbird feeder outside my window. Within the rhythm of the drumming rain. It finally feels right–this taking on of the Divine–from inside out.

I take a deep breath and pray,

If it’s meant to be, I’ll write it. If not, I’ll let go and continue falling into increasingly more luscious moments of finding what I’ve always been seeking. My own eternally expansive Self.