Resting Place

A tale of the wolf in a canyon

Fri, 25 Aug 2023 19:47:49 GMT

Does thought really disappear the moment it is birthed? If so, why does it come back? Where did it come from in the first place? And, if thought is responsible for creating reality is there anything we can do to change its resultant effects? Let's do a little digging and find out.

"Every thought you have ever had has disappeared. What a liberating discovery".

David Michie

My first response upon reading this quote was, "it's not true!" After all, if thought really does disappear the moment it is birthed then why does it keep coming back? Its a fair comment. If you have ever been held fast in the grip of anxiety you'll know that repetitive thoughts, especially when linked to emotional trauma and spread over a period of time, can, quite literally, drive you to the point of despair. It's an issue that is worthy of attention so, for now, we'll assume my first response to David Michie's quote is correct and consider questions concerning the hamster wheel of repetitive thoughts. Where do they come from, why do they keep returning and what can we do about it?

What goes around

comes around...

Many years ago I was a regular attendee at a local Buddhist meditation centre. During the many lessons, retreats and teachings I received over a number of years concerning mindfulness in everyday life, one teaching in particular has remained with me to this day. The lesson was one concerning karma - as you give, so shall you receive - and resident teacher, Gen Kelsang Pagpa, illustrated its effects with a story that is as clear, and impactful to me now as it was then.

"Picture a canyon, enclosed by high mountains on every aspect, where a lone wolf pauses at a shielded entrance and stares into the distance, to consider whether or not it should enter. With some trepidation and with slow and steady step, it proceeds... cautiously.

Suddenly, an unfamiliar sound causes the hairs on its back to bristle. Wolf is afraid. It howls - loudly. Just once. Within moments a potential assailant responds - howling louder and with more veracity than Wolf's somewhat hesitant attempt at intimidation. What's more, there were others. Wolf knew it because there was not only more than one sound, but each note carried with it a variation in tone.

Wolf was facing a pack! And, it had nowhere to turn. It couldn't run, it couldn't hide. It just had to stand firm and face it out. Wolf howled, then barked, again - louder and louder. In an escalating crescendo mix of barking and howling it sent a warning to those who threatened its territory not to come any closer. The pack returned its efforts in equal measure. Over and over again, Wolf sounded its note. Note after note the pack responded. And so it continued. For many, many days, followed by an equal number of whimpering nights, Wolf continued to fight with a pack that never put in an appearance, that never harmed a hair on its head and that had never, ever, really threatened its physical survival.

In the end, with one, long, whimpering sigh, Wolf gave up; it had no energy left for conflict and would fight no more. Every now and again it would hear the pack, but their cries seemed less threatening, more distant, and, even though Wolf had never come face to face with the adversaries, it had become wise to their ways. At the dawning of a new day, at some point in an undetermined future, Wolf turned about and left the canyon. It never heard the pack again".

With a little stretch of the imagination we might draw some parallels between Wolf's predicament and those who are stuck on the hamster wheel of endless thought, especially if those thoughts feed a mind prone to paranoia. But is an anxious mind more normal than we give it credit for? Are there far more of us hiding our inner demons beneath a superficial layer of positivity than society would have us believe? What about you, might you be one of them? "Every thought you have ever had has disappeared" - has it? has it really? It is clear, in this instance, that they haven't, so how can we learn from Wolf's experience and do something about this endless wheel that has an in-built capacity to drive us nuts?

At the outset Wolf, in spite his fear (we'll assume for now he's male), was comfortable in entering unfamiliar territory with curiosity (perhaps?) getting the better of his misgivings. Until, that is, something spooked him. Learnt programs, reactive behaviour and, above all, primal survival instinct, kicked in to address the resurgence of fear he felt inside; before you knew it he was spinning round and round on a hamster wheel of terror behaving only as a wolf knows how to behave in such circumstances - defensively, and with aggression. The pack, of course, mirrored his behaviour perfectly. They were, after all, the echoes of his own reactive behaviour returning to their point of origin; nothing more , nothing less. Don't forget the scene for our story is set in a canyon - and canyons create lots of echoes! The more Wolf bellowed, the more prolific the response, and the more prolific the response, the more threatening his aggressors appeared to be. In short, Wolf got back in equal measure what he gave out - and a bit more beside. That's the thing with echoes, they multiply with each resonance until they create a symphony!

Now, lets join a few dots. As you may have gathered the wolf, is you. What may not be so obvious is the parallel between your thoughts and a demented creature fighting with invisible adversaries in a fictional canyon. Stop for a moment and think about it. When your mind is wrapped up in thoughts that you have little or no control over are your responses so very different from those of the wolf? Are you even aware of your thought processes from one moment to the next? Its ok if you're not - that's what this blog is really all about! And so, without knowing anything about the behaviour of thought how may you draw parallels between echoes in an obvious amplifier of sound and 'something' that is so subtle it presents as a vanishing act the moment it is birthed?

"Thought, once set in motion, must follow its agreed course..."

Walk the Rainbow p192

Believe it or not, thought behaves in a manner not dissimilar to echoes, and always returns to its point of origin - in this case, you - albeit by a seemingly more circuitous and less detectable route. There are many levels to the plane of mind through which thought must pass before its original intention (whether its been set consciously or not) is worked out and the resultant effects are returned to its source; the laws governing their rite of passage are deep, profound, far-reaching in their effects and beyond the scope of this blog - for now it is enough that you are aware these laws exist and that they serve as a foundation to what follows. Now, back to Wolf!

Revisit our story and apply it to the parallels we have drawn to the behaviour of thought. Can you see how easy it is to be driven to distraction by something that might not even be real? Take anxiety, for example, how often have you gone round and round in your head trying to figure out or fix something that may or may not happen in the future? And what about the past, how many times do you get sucked into grievances or events that happened years ago, yet you find impossible to let go of? If my experience is anything to go by, far too many, I should imagine. So, what can we do about it? Even if you are not ready to step off the hamster wheel, how might you, at the very least, slow it down so you have space to see your thought-demons clearly?

Here's a few suggestions:-

Be more Wolf and stop barking. Remember thoughts, just like echoes, keep the wheel in perpetual motion.
Be aware of what you are thinking. Easier said than done as, for the most part, we aren't even aware that thoughts are being generated all the time.
Be aware of what you are feeling.
Notice when thoughts and feelings become entangled - a biggy! Thoughts wrapped up with feelings (and vice versa) give rise to stories and stories, in their turn, magnify the 'echoes' so a whole new reality emerges. Think of Wolf, consumed by fear, and believing a pack of wolves was after him.
Let go. Arresting a train of thought is not an easy task and takes practice. Be kind to yourself and keep going.
Observe the echoes. Remember, just because you are 'not barking' doesn't mean the end of the echoes. They are still 'out there' and will at some point in time, return. See them for what they are, let them go, and, importantly, don't bark again!
Leave the canyon. In other words, if your life situation is such that you find it impossible to implement the changes you so desperately desire, be like Wolf - turn around and walk away.

Lastly, out of respect to Pagpa, who inspired my rather ebullient tale (in his version Wolf was a dog), I will conclude with a few words on karma. Generated in a like manner to mind, including its echoes, the effects of karma have their origin (and echoes) in multiple planes of existence; in the context of you and your daily life the source of its effects are your thoughts, your words and your deeds. The law of karma ensures that every cause will see its resultant effects enacted and returned to its originator whether its source is human or Divine; death is no barrier to the working out of this law, it continues from life to life. So, to address our opening questions, unless we abide in the realm of causes how can we possibly determine the origin thought, how can we know if it's effects are rooted in our own misdemeanours or if they are down to the will of some entity whose abode is in the realms of the gods? How, can we know?

But, 'to bark, or not to bark...?' Now there's a question we can answer... Can't we?

'Wolf' courtesy

www.livingwithwolves.org

The Long Walk

Sun, 09 Jul 2023 20:55:32 GMT

Death, loss and finding beauty in the missing...

Death is as much a part of life as is life itself, yet, even when it is expected, it is often accompanied by such a deep sense of denial that many tactics are employed to avoid sinking into the abyss that goes hand in hand with endless missing. But what if this wasn't the case? What if the ending of life in one was embraced by another whose destiny it is, to grieve? Might that return a different experience of loss? And, might it present a whole new perspective on life?

To be fully present with the end. To not rush into a new beginning before the end has echoed its finale, or to wish anything to be other than it is, is to straddled the timelines - what was, what is, and what is yet to be - and to experience them as one and the same, in Presence. Merging of reality timelines means that disparate events in life suddenly have meaning, and when all the dots are joined a remarkable vision of wholeness emerges. Dot-joining, and the cycles they create, make the continuum of consciousness visible and from that 'bigger picture' perspective life begins to make sense; death, makes sense.

The theme running through this blog is, ‘Continuum’. It delves into th e subtle-in-between, the great cycle of life, death, and rebirth , to present a vision of new life, or a new way of being in the world . An illustrated story in which events, thoughts and feelings, straddle the timelines , exposes t he large within the small, the whole inside the part, and brings the spiral to its point of origin, where love is its only expression. Travelling backwards and forwards through time, from on e life experience to another, it returns an outcome other than what was at first believed. Whether death is encountered as a physical passing, end of a relationship, or change in a way of being, is irrelevant, the circumstances are the same, as is the outcome. How you deal with it is down to you. As you read on, remember this…

“Time changes not, but all things change in time”

'The Key of Time'. The Emerald Tablets of Thoth the Atlantean.

Translated by Doreal.

The Long Walk

In another time, in another space, she had sat on this same bench with her faithful companion by her side. Together, each in their own way, they had savoured the richness of their friendship and bathed in the joy of completeness. In this time outside of time, with barely a hint of regret, they knew also the inevitability of their parting. For that which is birthed through time will at some point pass from time. Such as it is.

Today she was alone.

Completeness, on this day of all days, was tinged with a less savoury flavour. For today, companionship gave rise to missing; real missing. And on this day, in the rising of missing… fullness was born.

Esmerelda sighed. Echoes of the past returned to fill her heart with times long since gone. Visions appeared, stories and companions became more real, more present, more whole, than the path upon which she now walked. More precious than the air that filled her lungs or tears that moistened her eyes, yet failed to kiss her cheeks, and more alive than those she greeted with a smile in the polite passing of day, they filled her heart with gratitude for the rich reward only death in its mastery can provide.

One foot before the other, from one beat of her heart to the next, she allowed all that once was space to be present. Moment by moment all sense of loss at their absence was gone. Alongside the canal her pace altered. Slowly, rhythmically, each step aligned with the beat of an inner drum, and in the passage of time the all-too-familiar canal path returned a changing reality.

Timelines shifted. She shifted.

Another place in another time a Queen was laid to rest. More than nine decades of life in service brought to its inevitable conclusion, her death heralded a lifetime of remembrance, not only for Esmerelda, but for the nation. In sacred ceremony, the queens family and the nation mourned, whilst the world looked on. Three services, three churches, three silent vigils, marked the long goodbye. And in the unseen in-between an endless road granted passage to all who mourned.

Timelines shifted.

The canal path became the ‘long walk’ at Windsor; the long walk was the canal path, then the path returned once more to the long walk. And so it continued, each reality painting itself as the other, in a most beguiling dance of remembrance. Inside these parallel timelines a strange juxtaposition arose wherein personal and collective moved as one. Her body remembered the march. Her steps fell easily into line with those of the soldiers. And an inner drum, dictating the timing of all, struck an identical beat to that of the ceremonial drums. Esmerelda smiled as wonderment took the place of despair. Once again her heart enjoyed the freedom of youth, relished the sense of belonging that came part and parcel with a forces life, and remembered companions, soul companions, who had given of their all throughout her life’s journey.

*Creative commons license. Copyright John C. Karnes

In reverence, she walked onwards. Straddling the timelines, present in this world, yet not. And as the past became one with the present, as the end faced its beginning, death bestowed its greatest gift.

A train of presences...

It was a most natural occurrence. Silently, reverently they came, a train of presences, animal presences, to be with her as she surrendered all resistance to the drum. Those who had graced her life, no longer present on this physical plane, were there. Those who had been beside her when she drowned in sorrow, lost and alone. Those who loved her still. Those who, throughout her life’s journey, had sustained her, loved her unconditionally, and filled her, body, heart and soul, with joy. Lifetimes of companions, friends to the soul, all were there. Esmerelda’s heart swelled in gratitude. Drawing into her heart love from every friend to the soul throughout all time, animal, human and other-worldly beings, seen and unseen, she walked on in gratitude. Step by reverent step, her companions fell into line alongside, and behind… showing her they had never left... And then, as suddenly as they had appeared, they were gone...

All identities, memories, and entanglements, spontaneously merged with the one who walked. Every individual, regardless of form, along with any sense of being separate, became the all-encompassing, fullness of Presence. She paused for a moment, savouring the stillness, turning her senses inwards to listen. Now silent, the drumbeat remained… posing as one who walked… alone…

The great wheel turned upon command of the mighty drum… Primed to follow its purpose... it set the cause in motion… A cause oddly familiar… yet different somehow…

Again, timelines shifted .

Another death... another passing…The picture was different… the one who passed was different... yet the occasion of the passing was, in a familiar sense, the same. She’d passed this way before… knew well the ways of death… but now she was different… Her heart no longer drowned in sorrow nor suffered the pain of loss… Now, it experienced beauty in the missing… cherished its gift... and embraced its presence... Now she was different… now there was beauty in the missing...

And so… the mighty drum beats...

and the great wheel turns…

In another time... in another place

"She’d passed this way before but on this day it was different somehow. Strolling across its forgiving landscape, she touched the earth with gentleness and revelled in her sacred beauty. In this place was history in the making, stories for the hearing and mystery for the unravelling. Familiarity gave way to inner vision. She saw the land awash with fire, yet not a blade of grass was harmed, she felt the frozen wastes of time as her heart, encased in ice, could only dream again of spring and, in the quiet of an early dawn, as autumn mists gave up their dead, she felt the ground bear testament to every passing… to her passing. Yes, the picture was different… it was different because she was different. Extremes of fire and ice no longer pulled her this way or that… no longer scorched her skin or ground her bones to dust… no more did her heart drown in despair… Now she was different…” Walk the Rainbow: Live the Way of Wholeness. p232

And then came the fall...

Fri, 26 May 2023 18:51:17 GMT

An adventure, a guide and a Redman

Feel the flow of the continuum as it penetrates your earthly shell. Meet the weaver of worlds when it forges lasting friendships and sings wondrous songs of miraculous events, inner transformations and unforgettable experiences, then bear witness to the adventures of a traveller who learns to distinguish the True from the false, finds the land of her belonging without ever knowing she was lost... and who comes to see life is not always as it is presented...

Inside out... or outside in?

Seven years ago I embarked upon a journey, as vibrant, alive, and real to me now as it was then. An adventure of infinite proportion spanning multiple timelines, realities and identities, the North American Southwest journey , under the guidance of Ronald Holt, was one of the most profound and life-enhancing 'holidays' of my lifetime. As to why the time of the telling is now will become apparent later but, for the curious, a clue may be found in the title. Our story unfolds in three parts expressed through the essence of two spirals: one left, the other right. The first, set out in the form of a letter to our tour guide in his capacity as friend to the Soul, exposes the unravelling of the 'false self’ or, as Jeremy Crank, Navajo medicine man, puts it, the spiral of chaos. It exposes the dismembering of this illusory persona under the guidance of the ‘quantum navigator’ and uses surrender as its method. The second spiral runs concurrently but, for ease of relating, will be shared in part three, the Redman. It’s important to know neither is complete in itself each being an integral part of the other; one a breaking down of that which is false the other introducing that which is unfettered and whole.

An Adventure

Inspiration for our unique trip came through Ron’s many years exploring, meditating, and sharing with others his intimate connection, not only with the land and its power spots, but with indigenous peoples who know well the ways of the Great Mother, and her partner in Spirit, Father Sky. Added to this was the deep inner work he, not only facilitated, but also dedicated his life to on a personal level; dissolution of self being the ultimate in reward. It was in the latter capacity that I knew him well. Serving as guide and mentor to me, through workshops and one to ones over several years, I can honestly say he has been instrumental in awakening layers of understanding within me that have changed my life beyond recognition. I first met him in 2008 at a Seed of Life, sacred geometry, workshop where Lyssa, his wife and co-facilitator, introduced him as ‘a heart on legs;’ it was no word of a lie – he is. As such he inspires implicit trust in those he serves whatever the capacity. The South West tour was a new venture for me, not only in it being a ‘holiday’, but in my getting to know Ron as a guide within the ‘external’ world of form rather than the inner landscape of the Soul. I was soon to find out there was no difference!

Our journey, lasting nine days, began in Phoenix, Arizona, and took us through four states including New Mexico, Colorado and Utah to reach its crowning glory in Monument Valley, land of the Navajo (Dine). Our trusty steed was a well-equipped mini-bus with capacity to seat 12 – we were only six; overnight stops, different every night bar one, were spent in well-appointed hotels or motels and the hikes to each power spot were relatively easy (says she with tongue in cheek). The landscape through which we travelled, even without the added benefits mentioned above, were stunning. As one who lives on a relatively small, over-populated island, the expansive quality and clarity of air, was positively breath-taking – in itself sufficient to bring light to a clouded mind. Add to the mix, indigenous culture, powerful meditations, petroglyphs, night skies devoid of light pollution, magnificent sunrises and sunsets and you have a recipe for profound inner transformation with life-changing potential.

The backdrop to my experience would be incomplete without mention of my travelling companions. From day one, almost before we had left our hotel in Phoenix, there is but one word that, for me, epitomises our relationship – easy . As one member said, “this feels like a reunion”. It did, and I am pretty sure it was. Not without its challenges, the tour by its very nature held the potential to bring to the surface personal irritations, niggles over long hours spent in a bus, late arrivals at accommodations, questionable food (sometimes!) etc. etc. but, to my knowledge, none of this happened. We just got on with it and celebrated the marvellous gift each of us brought to the others in being present on the journey; it was the group that made this possible, and by the same token, the group that turned the trip into the momentous experience that it turned out to be.

Lastly, in using the word, ‘Redman,’ I mean no disrespect to the native American Indian whom, as the following story will reveal, I honour above all else. It is a name given to one who is not of this world and who is beyond any creed, race or religion. It is a name given to one who, in effect, has no name but whose essence, for the purposes of this article, requires an identity.

Letter to a guide

disentangling the matrix

Dear friend,

Prior to signing up for the trip I knew the fundamental structure (or potential lack of it) contained many of my worst nightmares - In short I did not know where the hell I would be with it all or how I was going to cope! As it turned out none of this mattered. It wasn’t even something I had to work at; the issues just weren’t there. As such, I was at peace with my inner demons for the first three to four days. I had implicit trust in you as a guide, valued the impeccable foresight you had applied in assuring our every need was met, and when the opportunity came to enter the ‘ ear’ of the ‘watcher over the canyon’ at Canyon de Chelly I had no hesitation in making the climb. Not only was I confident in skills gained through many years of mountain scrambling I had no doubt you would assist me should there be a need. And there was, and you did!

And then came the fall...

It was a something and nothing event. I lost my footing in the pitch black, slid and rolled towards the edge of a precipice, and ground to a halt moments before falling over the edge. Battered, bruised and shocked I sought sanctuary in tried and tested programs; deeply entrenched insecurities rose to the surface leaving me shaken and vulnerable at a core level. The physical shock and injury was addressed using homeopathy and the skills of a very competent massage therapist, who nursed my battered and bruised body back into alignment, that I may continue the journey relatively unscathed. This left the insecurities – not so easily dispensed with! Echoes of my early life returned. Someone I relied upon had failed to live up to the implicit trust I had placed upon them. Now I was confused, and wary. Enter one who was familiar with the terrain, one who knew the subtleties within every verbal utterance, who could read every expression, assess clearly where preferences and loyalties lay in the one it deemed to be the leader of the pack and who, for aeons, had ensured the one under its care would survive at all costs. The inner watcher was awake and it stepped up to fulfil its purpose in looking after the one who was exposed and vulnerable - me.

Outer and inner, inseparable in their expression, journeyed as one from that point onwards. As we travelled from one breath-taking power spot to the next the watcher performed its duties with due diligence. However, unbeknownst to its innate intelligence, lying beyond its wily gaze, was another, equally adept, 'Master of the Maze' who knew its every move. The watcher was being watched. As sibling rivals courted favour with assumed parent, as green dragon exhaled its soul-destroying fire and as the worthless one tried in vain to be heard, the Master of the Maze held it all. In love. Drawing all into its infinite capacity to love without condition it allowed none to escape its warm embrace. And so, the dragon was appeased, the watcher relaxed its vigil and turbulent waters returned once more. to stillness. Until, on the afternoon of the last day, the unreal reared its ugly head again to make the false unerringly real; the pain of rejection seared like a knife through my tender heart and once again I felt lost and alone.

Upon returning home I travelled deep into the entanglements clouding my mind, swam in the bloodied waters of a wounded heart, and offered all to the tender mercy of the Soul. Piece by piece I teased apart my projections and managed to reach a place of clarity, at least in part. Completion came with the onset of the reversed, clockwise, spiral; the spiral of integration. Two days after my return I felt the spiral of chaos reverse its flow; it took, however, a further two weeks to disentangle the knot of this particular falsehood. It happened spontaneously whilst walking my dog in a local park. Every day we would walk a circular route in an anti-clockwise direction; we had been doing so for years but now, as the penny dropped, I realised in so doing we were courting chaos. I reversed the flow by walking the other way round. Step by mindful step as I trod the clockwise spiral the veils obscuring the true nature of reality disintegrated and the answer, a reservoir of clarity in the detritus of the false, became clear.

Each step opened my heart to your vulnerability. I felt the love you expressed in putting this whole trip together, your vulnerability in sharing that which you loved so much with others, your child-like joy in encouraging us to grow and evolve as you had through intimate connection with the land. I felt your deep and intimate love of Spirit, bore witness to your innate wisdom and dedication in following its direction regardless of cost to yourself. And above all, I felt your boundless love in assisting us to strip back the layers of falsehood that Truth may stand naked in the face of all adversity.

Now, as you stand before me, a shining light, a pristine mirror, where naught but Pure Spirit is presented to those who have eyes to notice - I see you. Naked, vulnerable…. human... I see you ... Now, at last, I can speak from a heart that’s true, one that has honoured its wounded-ness, has had the courage to wait, one who has entered the great silence and allowed the love of the Soul to be expressed through her. Now, in this moment, whilst bathing in the aftermath of clarity, I say to you, friend to the Soul, "it has been an honour to walk these lands under your guidance, to share your passion, your joy and your wisdom; to walk alongside you as one in Spirit... inside and out . And now, I can finally say to you, Ron, thank you.

From the depths of my soul, from my heart to yours,

thank you so very, very much...."

The Redman

He entered in the wake of the fall. As my battered body tried in vain to rest, as mind spiralled untamed within the wheel of regret, and heart wrestled with the demons of blame and shame, under cover of darkness, he was there. Chiselled features, strong countenance, coloured with unquestionable authority, he placed his unequivocal mastery upon the moment. Yet his, all too palpable, presence belied the gentleness of intent shining through his softened gaze. He was a warrior, a figurehead within his tribe, one to be respected and revered, even to be feared, yet this persona was not quite as it seemed. I could feel it. His heart had tasted the pain of loss, knew separation from those he considered to be his own, and how it felt to be banished from the land he loved. He had ridden the spiral of despair until nothing that could be identified as him was left and now he stood before me naked, vulnerable, alone; demanding nothing, baring all. He was a warrior but his greatest strength lay in his approach before me on bended knee. Even now, more than three weeks after the event, I see his face, feel his presence, his mystery running through my veins and the love that flows, so effortlessly, from his heart to mine.

Mind travelled backwards through time. I recalled the day before when I sat alone on the overlook to Canyon de Chelly, how the vortex of its womb-like space kept drawing me in, and in likewise fashion at Spiderwoman Rock in the pouring rain. In each instance I had a sense of falling but without fear, more a longing to give of myself completely to the presence that was calling me. I recalled with ease the appearance of crow and how insistent it was in setting the direction for us to meditate close to the edge of a precipice. Perhaps all were harbingers of events yet to unfold? Our return journey from the base of the canyon seemed to add credence to this possibility. Walking uphill not being my favourite pastime, I had set off before the others so as not to play catch up. I walked slowly, deliberately, each step a surrendering to the presence of the moment and every placement of foot an honouring of the land upon which I walked. I had a sense of pilgrimage, of re-membering, and an instinctive knowing that it was one other than I who walked the land… through me.

And so the tour continued. From kiva to cliff dwelling, ancient civilisation to wi-fi enabled hotel, our trusty steed and guide led us into ever more expansive experiences within magnificent panoramas. Through four states I absorbed the sacred heart of the land through which we travelled, listened inwardly to the song of its people and heard the heart-wrenching cry of the earth as she exposed those who had murdered, raped and pillaged her revered protectors in the name of civilisation. My heart bled. My eyes struggled to cry.

And then he was there. Entrenched in despair by atrocities committed in the past, as we crossed the border from Colorado into Utah, the Redman made an appearance again. Only this time it was far more than his face that called me to his side. His presence enveloped, descended around, through and within me, until ‘I’ was but a viewer through the mirror of his mind. I witnessed him drinking in the land through my eyes; my body, tired from long hours spent on the road, felt renewed by his strength and my heart... my heart was overwhelmed by gratitude... his gratitude. At last the tears flowed. Soft, gentle tears birthed through recognition of service. Tears that made no sound, carried no emotion, which left no scars upon the heart of the one who wept; tears released only when the one who weeps is not the one who has reason to cry. Pieces of a jigsaw spanning many aeons of time were falling into place and my part within a far bigger picture was becoming clear with each passing moment.

Long before the outset of this journey, when it was but a possibility in my mind, I had a feeling it was never about me. An exciting and once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, that should have left me fired with enthusiasm for weeks, failed to ignite familiar feelings of anticipation and expectation. Now I knew why. It was the Redman that called this body to his lands, the Redman who miraculously, from out of nowhere, manifested funds for the trip, and it was the Redman who, as gently as he could, generated the impetus for the fall that our spirits may merge. With humble heart my tears merged with his….. my heart pulsed to a new rhythm, beat to a hitherto unknown drum… and little me, the one who had set out on this journey, gave in… Before I knew it our trusty steed had entered Monument Valley, sacred land of the Navajo. There are many tales and insights I could share concerning the unforgettable two days we spent with Navajo Medicine man, Jeremy Crank and his family. I could speak of animated creation stories, sleeping in a Hogan under the stars 'dormitory style', of weavers and grandmothers, dancers and sacred rites, of sunrises and sunsets, buttes and mesas, and so, so much more. A lengthy script could be written on each one, but for now I confine the telling of my experience to those events having direct bearing on the unfolding of the spiral within this song of creation; the sweat, a tale of children and a water blessing.

It is only at the time of writing that I recognise the pivotal role the sweat lodge played in reversing the flow of the spiral. Far more than sitting in the dark, getting hot and sweating buckets the experience is steeped in ancient ritual. Jeremy and his family prepared the ground, built the sweat and offered sacred chants for two weeks prior to our arrival; a momentous addition, and unprecedented honour, to these preparations being the unexpected appearance of Grandfather, who bestowed his blessings upon our forthcoming gathering. The sweat, as I understand it, is an honouring of all that is sacred in our relationship to each other, to the land upon which we are blessed to call home, and to the celestial lights that grace the heavens above. Instructions, simple but clear, were delivered by Jeremy towards that end before the start. Always enter and leave in a clockwise direction, set the intention to purge, through bodily sweat, all that is ‘unclean’, take the dirt upon which you rest to ‘wash’ the body and drink freshly prepared sage tea before you enter. The time had come. Not without a hint of trepidation I took my place inside the sweat.

As my body transformed through the four elements I surrendered to the presence of Great Spirit. Songs of creation, chanted by medicine man Jeremy, stirred my soul. The Redman came alive. His voice echoed words, long since forgotten, using chords within a body that moved in synchronous rhythm to the beat of a sacred song. The air was pregnant with joy at his return to the land he loved, whilst the white woman housing his spirit smiled quietly inside. There are no words that can convey the depth of knowing that was awakened through that simple ceremony. So deep, it has taken nigh on a month, in virtual silence, to express these few words.

The water blessing, on the shores of Saint Juan, was the sealing of our time with the Navajo. It was simply that, a blessing, but it held particular significance to the Redman and my continuing relationship with him. As the sacred songs graced my ears once more, as my spirit soared and heart rejoiced, I ‘saw’ a vortex of liquid light, spiralling anti-clockwise, arising from the surface of the river. It opened, as would a flower in response to the warm rays of a radiant sun, to become, what I can only describe as, a ‘deity.’ Features unclear, it nevertheless had vast, outspread, expansive wings, coloured white, and ‘arms’ that were proffered towards us in a gesture of offering; the energy it imparted was one of gratitude. Then it was gone, in its place a small Puebloan boy playing by the edge of the water. He had miraculously appeared from what seemed to be an umbilicus reaching deep into the core of the earth, as if the Blessed Mother herself had breathed his form into physical life.

The significance of this vision is still finding its way into waking awareness but one of Jeremy’s stories offers a possible explanation. When a child is born to the Navajo the medicine man takes the umbilical cord far into the land where it is buried according to ancient rites. This sacred act ensures its children, no matter how far away they may travel, will always return to the land of their birth. It seems to me the Redman, through the body of a white woman, had at last returned home. All was now as it should be, a wrong had been set right and balance was restored.

As the two spirals entrain, mystery within the matrix of creation stands revealed. I see that unconscious projections, seeds of rejection that clouded my perception of our guide, had their origin, not within a damaged childhood, as I had always believed, but in the fate of the Redman cast so many, many lifetimes ago. Now I ask myself, how can I possibly continue to live, and relive, a story of falsehood when it is so obviously a mere blink of an eye against a broader expanse of time? And having experienced, so intimately, the combined energies of each spiral how can I fail to see that the leading players, guide and Redman, are but two expressions of the same archetypal presence?

As all comes full circle, the fall reveals its most treasured gift. Subtle behavioural patterns, learnt through a dysfunctional relationship with my inner father in this life, are contrasted by a new, wholesome, and life-affirming way of relating, through the Redman. He has shown me, through his presence alone, how masculine authority may be expressed through feminine qualities – gentleness, acceptance, wisdom and loving-kindness. What began as an act of selfless service has returned to me a thousand fold; the server has become the served, the great spiral has showered its blessings upon one who surrendered all to its passage, and the white woman has the song of a Redman running through her veins. It brings with it an ease of being, an acceptance of self, and nutrient rich soil wherein a young Puebloan boy may play in the dirt, sing songs of gratitude to his ancestors, and learn how it is to walk in beauty … the Dine Way.

Addendum 2023

This account was originally published as an article one month after completion of the Southwest journey in 2016. As intimated in the opening paragraphs its release in its current form is not without purpose. The title, amended from the original, is also significant. Tales from the continuum have, without doubt, many layers, intricacies, and intimate relations woven within them that unfold through time, yet oftentimes they become obscured by its passage. Identities, stories, rights and wrongs, lands, tribes and belongings, all have their place, all have their tales to tell and their wisdom to impart. Experiences shared here, mere threads within a far larger tapestry, have rippled throughout the fabric of space-time to create windows of opportunity for awakening, with new layers of learning, in the present. The Redman has returned. He is here, now. His note expresses the continuum... his song, a Song of Creation... And joy in Spirit is its most precious gift.

What's in an Ad?

Mon, 17 Apr 2023 16:12:02 GMT

What's in an Ad?... making darkness conscious...

The cover may 'say it all' but what part does a book advert play in carrying its message forward into the world at large? And what does it say about the underlying, often hidden, intention behind it? Perhaps insight into the artist's journey and the layers that make up the finished piece will provide a clue...

My adventure into the world of marketing continues...

Having reached a place of resolution regarding the cover of my book , I am now dipping my toes into social media and amazon advertising - a minefield I might add (no pun intended!) - and if it wasn't for my trusty marketer taking the helm at the start my little ship would have stayed floundering in the dock and I would never have left the harbour. But I did, and here I am steering a course to who knows where, using who knows what, with who knows who, and quite happy in the not knowing.

I began, as I often do, with creating an image, a vision of reality designed with intent, to convey a purpose; in this case to attract readers into taking a look at my book.

This is where I hit my first hurdle.

"The image doesn't really convey what I will be getting from the book", observed Katie, my marketer. "Think about how this book will genuinely help people. What can you share about the book, or from the book's content, that will really help people in their day-to-day lives as and when they see your content?"

After, I'd closed my mouth and picked myself up from the floor, I had my customary rant. "Humph, I really like this image... it has so much in it... and every element is significant... and now I've got to find inspiration to create another one... AND I've got to think of something that potential readers might want to go with it...!" Another humph, rapidly followed by another. I allowed my resistance full flow as I jumped on the hamster wheel of, "no, no, no... NO. Not again!" And then, as suddenly as it begun, it stopped. From out of nowhere... from within the ensuing silence... came this...

"When you can't see the wood

for the trees..."

You see, once again, I knew she was right. I knew, even though the image felt right, the words that went with it didn't quite cut it, and in that there was a stuck-ness. I also agreed with her when she said, "the image is a bit dark", which I conceded might appear intimidating to some. Katie, whilst presenting yet another challenge to all I held most dear, freed my inner creator. Furthermore, without even knowing it, she'd introduced a new way for me to approach marketing - sharing ! Would you credit it? I had my way in. Now, I could do what I loved most... PLAY and SHARE! In the end, my new 'advert' fell into place effortlessly, with the solution, 'Walk in Beauty', appearing as part of the process. I was pleased, more than pleased, with the end result.

"I did a double-take

when I noticed the layers"

However, there was more to come. I did a double take when I noticed the layers making up the finished artwork - they had their own story to tell, which not only linked the two versions of my ad, but when I looked at the geometric 'womb of creation' tying them together there was a far big bigger waiting in the wings .

Walk in Beauty - the subtle in-between

Layers and qualities embodied in the finished piece

Roots

As source artwork for my first advert, it now forms the foundation, the root, for the second . Lets take a look at its significance.

Roots is a calling to the past. "Unconscious roots, source of all psychological and emotional entanglements, are anchored in the past, but when held under the lens of clear-seeing, they cease their hold upon the present. If, at the same time, they are embraced inside a heart of compassionate acceptance, they dissolve into nothingness, becoming one with the whole tree".

Walk the Rainbow is about embracing the light within but how can you possibly walk in light if under-processed emotional baggage and mental constructs lurk in the substrate?

Enter the role of awareness. When consciousness is engaged in illuminating the dark - your shadow-self - it becomes conscious. It is light. And when darkness is light, life is filled with magic. The wonder-filled child, having no baggage, is then able to claim its birthright and return once again to innocence.

Can you see how all these elements are w ithin my first 'Adventure' advert? And why, its qualities have such an important role to play in carrying its message forward. No wonder it snuck under the radar to claim its place at the root of this one!

Change

Is the only image of the three not to feature in Walk the Rainbow - at least not directly; it is one of the layers in As Above So Below , and has been recently released as a piece in its own right following a canvas request from a friend.

Its title takes its name from the energy of the layer beneath - cards from a Galactic Heritage card reading - and embodies the essence of Andromeda, sister galaxy to earth's, Milky Way.

The reality of Andromeda, according to the author of the Galactic Heritage cards*, is one of constant change. Not change as we know and understand it but one where the fluidity of its environment is such that the only way to navigate is by means of a strong inner compass rooted in consciousness.

In view of the constantly shifting Andromeda realities it comes as no surprise to see that Change, as a vision of reality , is perfect for bringing together the qualities, not only of the images, but also those of their innate essence. Given the twists and turns, ups and downs, of the publishing industry it is a most fitting ambassador to carry the message forward.

*Lyssa Royal Holt

Wallington Wood

Wallington Wood introduces an element of surprise. It takes its name from a well-renowned beauty spot in the north east of England, and its story arose following a visit whilst visiting family. I was so mesmerised by its other-worldly presence, I sat down upon a fallen log to absorb its magnificence.

"A brief encounter with solitude, taken at an opportune moment in an inspired wood, brings nature’s unsung heroes to the forefront of a mind otherwise closed to their presence. As the dreamer bathes in wonderment at nature’s beneficence, veils between worlds are miraculously drawn aside and transportation to another dimension in space and time is suddenly made readily accessible. Creatures never before encountered, not even in the most vivid of imaginary tales, are clearly visible, beings whose presence is defined through subtle variations in light and sound are made tangible to the senses and, most astounding of all, the Spirit of the Wood is known. Hailed with gratitude inside a heart steeped in humility, the one who paused… just for a moment… is left forever changed."

Its place in my new ad artwork bears testament to itself. What better place could there possibly be to 'walk in beauty', than taking a stroll through a magical wood?

Two become one

The vesica piscis, known as the womb of creation, shows how seemingly apparent opposites may be united in harmony to present a third, more creative, option. Two circles of equal radius are joined by their centres to create the inner 'eye', a space where 'magic' happens and infinite potential exists. Also known as the 'Eye of God' it features in many of the visions in Walk the Rainbow - zoom in on Wallington Wood and you will see it at the centre of the 'Spirit of the Wood' - as well as on the front cover of the book and in place of prominence in my first advert. It's significance, in book, adverts, and sacred geometry, cannot be over-stated. It may not be obvious in the ad, 'Walk in beauty', but its essence, its Spirit, and its energy are prevalent throughout. You just have to open your eyes and look a little deeper... or read this blog!

One last thing...

This blogging journey began when I was asked by my marketer to change my cover . Alongside an idea of how a replacement might look Katie suggested I use one of my paintings to create a similar abstract image; making the title and author stand out more was also part of the remit. Well I may not have changed the cover of my book but when I look at Katie's cover suggestion (including the colour) and my new ad, I find there to be a merging of worlds. All has come full circle. Shifting paradigms, illumination of shadows and dancing with rainbows... Oh, my! what an amazing journey...

Who would have thought pausing for a while in an enchanted wood, or taking a moment to look deeper into the layers making up an ad would take me straight to the heart of Walking the Rainbow , and with it the core message of my book! This is 'manifesting the beauty of the Soul'... and life expressed as a ' way of wholeness ...' Makes you want to explore some more, doesn't it?

Walk the Rainbow includes 150+ original artwork and detailed graphics in full colour.

Available in paperback and eBook

Learn more here

The cover says it all...

Thu, 06 Apr 2023 09:56:57 GMT

The cover says it all... a marketing dilemma...

For the past couple of weeks I have been working with a book marketing 'guru'. I realised it was no use having a really good book (and I know that it is) if no-one knew about it. So I put aside all resistance to 'marketing', and the deeply ingrained beliefs that went hand in hand with it, (after all, 'nice spiritual people' don't need marketing do they? Spirit will take care of it, wont it?) and decided to do something about it. 'Actions speak louder than words' is a dictate I have harboured for decades and now it was time to put it into practice. I found Katie purely by chance through an online author support user group - one of the members was extolling her virtues so I made a note for when I might need such services. I have not been disappointed. More to the point my resistance, far from dragging me kicking and screaming into this antithesis of 'who I am', returned a sense of wonderment that I was actually enjoying it.

My journey began upon receipt of a personalised 'marketing plan'; 31 pages of hints, research, 'to do's' and content for me to generate, relative to my book. Instant overwhelm! And breathe... I took a step back and soon bits of it started to jump out. I can do this, yes I'm happy with that, and "oooh, look!" I've already done this, changed the inner dialogue from one of despair into a strange sense of excitement - I couldn't wait to begin. Until, that is, I turned to the first page. She wanted me to change the cover of my book! She had done her research well. Set out amidst the covers of a few new age 'greats' mine definitely stood out - I saw this as a positive. However, Katie felt it, "didn't sit well within this genre. The imagery feels quite childlike, and potentially could cause confusion about who this book is for". She followed it with her idea of a replacement - by her own admission she's not a book designer so it was just an idea - and again, she set it out alongside the greats. Here's the dilemma.

I agreed with her. And, I liked, really liked, the new cover. When I placed it in the midst of others in this genre, Walk the Rainbow felt elevated. I - felt elevated. And, of course, the cover is the first attractor to potential readers. It is important. True to form, mind kicked in to offer its two-penneth. But... but... but... you can't change it... you've done all this work, its always been this way.... and so it went... on... and on... and on. Take a step back... and breathe... Then... in spite the rightness of the cover, regardless of my agreeing with her reasoning, I still couldn't quite bring myself to say, yes. Why is that? I wondered. So I turned everything on its head and focused on why my cover was valid and why it was worthy of its place amongst the 'greats'.

The cover really does 'say it all...'

Every aspect of my cover reveals what Walk the Rainbow is all about. Nothing is random or accidental. Setting the most obvious elements aside (strap lines, umbrella rainbow and title - which define my book as spiritual) we'll take a leaf from Katie's observation and focus on the child-like simplicity of the drawing; created with intent, this in itself lies at the core of how to 'walk a rainbow'.

"Only as a child

shall you enter the kingdom of heaven"

In other words, much stripping away of the trappings of adulthood will have been undertaken before the likelihood of a return to innocence can be realised. How? Again, a clue is in the drawing. Beneath the child's right foot is a large black box, this represents the unconscious, source of all reactive programs and belief systems. Scattered around are a further seven boxes (cubes) coloured according to the seven colours of the rainbow. These represent the separate self, the parts of you that feel isolated, alone or even superior to other 'boxes'. Living from the perspective of any one or all of these, particularly when their source is the unconscious black box, ensures the child will never reclaim its innocence and you, as an adult, will find it hard to 'walk a rainbow through your life.' For instance, if I had listened to the dictates of my black box I would never have embarked upon a marketing journey and most assuredly the gifts of this blog would never have seen the light of day. The placement of the child's foot upon the black box shows the only way to deal with the unconscious is through cultivating awareness of its contents.

"One does not become conscious by imagining figures of light, but by making the darkness conscious.

C. G. Jung

The two interlocking circles, and the seven 'rainbow' spheres within it, the child is holding, are equally important. The principles of sacred geometry, and its relevance to the evolution of human consciousness, is fundamental to Walk the Rainbow. It's worth repeating. Nothing in this cover, or the book, is random or accidental. Every part has its place and is essential in presenting a vision of wholeness 'as it is', not how we perceive it to be.

So what's the outcome?

This blog has been an interesting journey and one that really doesn't have a definitive end. Katie's cover is valid, as is mine. The consciousness of humanity as a whole, is on the verge of entering a new paradigm, one in which the old ways, including what defines spirituality or doesn't, is on the verge of radical change. When I began my spiritual journey in earnest some two decades ago there was an explosion of self-help books, including those offering techniques to realise Samadhi; the aim being to transcend the dross of 'ordinary' life in favour of spiritual illumination - bliss. Katie's cover, along with many books in this genre, reflects these ideals. However, the new paradigm is more more grounded, more real, and less about transcendence, or escapism. It concerns acceptance of what is, as it is, in the moment, as a way of being . But, and this is a big but, both paradigms are prevalent right now. There is no ending of one and beginning of another. They exist in the same space at the same time and the qualities of each are therefore, equally valid.

You see, its not really about the cover at all. Its more about the arena, the space, within which it is shared. Far more than this, it is about the consciousness of the one whose eyes rest upon the qualities each cover embodies, what feelings it evokes in the heart of the beholder, and whether or not those eyes are drawn to look beyond the obvious. Walk the Rainbow is a sojourn into what lies betwixt and between the subtle layers that create our vision of reality, to recognise the beauty within, and to live a life of wholeness from that place of beauty. It is not about escapism. It is an invitation to 'Manifest the beauty of the Soul... walk a rainbow through your life...' as you are, who you are, in conscious alignment with the Spirit within.

So, does either cover really do justice in presenting these ideals to the mind of a reader? Perhaps someone should be able to 'read' at least the genre of a book without explanation, just by viewing its cover, in which case Katie's hits the spot. Or maybe there are those who are looking for something deeper, something that strikes a chord, inside . Maybe? My feet stand astride both paradigms, my heart is with the new, hence the dilemma. How about you, where do your feet rest? Which cover would you choose?

Walk the Rainbow includes 150+ original artwork and detailed graphics in full colour.

Available in paperback and eBook.

Get your copy here

Somewhere

Sat, 18 Mar 2023 21:58:19 GMT

Somewhere only we know - Artist's Journey. What normally begins as an idea, a concept or a vision to create, in this case didn’t.

What normally involved the use of thick, strong lines using multiple brushes in varying degrees of width and depth, in this case didn’t. What normally found spirals of mixed, vibrant colours filling almost every square inch of material, in this case didn’t. No, this time another aspect of being awaited expression, one that had hitherto been hidden from view and one that would only be revealed upon its completion. Perhaps?

So, palette knife and kebab stick in hand, a few light colours at the ready and with gentleness of being expressed through a heart that was empty, I allowed creation to flow through me. Completion of the painting as it turned out was not the end. I pondered upon the possibilities of its naming and was surprised to find another journey unfolding within itself.

"In order to see that which appears TO mind

consciousness must abide in a space which is

NOT mind."

‘Appearances to Mind’ came first. Yet the further I sank into the vision, the more I allowed it’s title to consume me, the greater was the sense that it didn’t quite encompass the full magnitude of its expression. ‘ Absence of Mind’ emerged in place of appearances. In order to see that which appears TO mind consciousness must abide in a space which is NOT mind. If appearances are viewed from WITHIN mind they translate as perspectives within a reality created BY mind and, whether the viewer is aware of it or not, are not representative of how they really are.

‘Somewhere only I know’ was a natural progression arising out of nothingness when several pieces of my personal (fragmented) jigsaw fell into place. A Gordian knot, a song, willingness to enter the depths and one with clarity of vision to shine a light in the dark whilst disentangling the matrix tied up in the knot, were the orchestrators of mine, and this visions, completion.

“You’re the only one who knows all the lessons

- victories and failures -

you have been through.

No-one else."

Whilst reviewing the content of a Quantum Navigation session with Ronald L Holt I noticed a theme to the guidance he offered. “You’re the only one who knows all the lessons - victories and failures - you have been through. Lay out all the parcels of your life, what you have had to live through to reach this level of comprehension, appreciation, forgiveness, acceptance of self and revelation and see that you were the only one who was there. As such, only you can bear testament to your existence. No-one else. You cannot receive validation from anyone or anything external. Only you can do that.” ‘Somewhere only I know’ is thus a fitting title, or is it?

It would appear the journey is not over, for there are others; those who have been through the same. Those who can turn towards [me] and say “I see you,” knowing what it cost. Yes, there are others, a few, and in honour of the few the title metamorphoses once again…. ‘Somewhere only WE know.’

And therein lies the song... a very fitting accompaniment to the journey. Wouldn't you say?

Keane – 'Somewhere only we know' official MV
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Oextk-If8HQ

Ronald Holt – Quantum Navigation
https://www.quantumnavigation.net

Resting Place

Fri, 17 Mar 2023 14:33:31 GMT

Imagine, for a moment... a place that is so safe, so secure, and so profound you can rest in eternal peace even as you watch all that you treasure most in the world crumble into nothing at your feet...

"How does it feel to know... really know...

all that unfolds before your eyes is in perfect accord with the natural rhythm and pulse of some great cosmic orchestra?

How does it feel to be so in tune with this rhythm you become it? You know... really know... you are a perfect note within this magical song of existence...

And how does it feel to know... really know...

you are also the orchestrator of that song?"

Walk the Rainbow. p304

Guidance

A shaman is said to journey between three worlds - upper, middle and lower; the upper being the realm of spirit guides, the lower - power animals, and the middle, where we live, draws upon the infinite wisdom of both the kingdom of the soul and the subtle forms intrinsic to the kingdom of nature - nature spirits, elementals etc. Knowledge, healing and guidance may be retrieved from any one of these worlds to enhance daily life, whether it be for oneself or another, on personal or collective levels.

Now look at the image above. Consciousness, symbolised by the torus geometry, rests at the centre, yet opportunity to explore two other worlds is also intimated; one above and the other below. These worlds may be likened to the three shamanic realms. However, Resting Place is also a container for their expression; it is both preserver and the sacred space wherein great cosmic forces flow unimpeded throughout all realities. It is thus, container and the contained; the real and the unreal; the singer and the song. It is a magical, experiential doorway, wherein consciousness may explore within itself, where it may face itself, where it may recognise its true nature and realise all is not as it appears.

This vision, therefore, brings unique gifts. It is an invitation to rest in the cosmic womb of creation, to experience the wondrous space that holds all events separate and to know, 'really know', man and universe, singer and song, are one and the same; one glorious note echoing throughout all time, all existence. Stepping into Resting Place presents an opportunity to fulfil the purpose to which you and all mankind were born. To be an aware, conscious, intermediary between Spirit and matter, and to know yourself as consciousness as it expresses through you. Remember, wherever consciousness abides, its true expression is limitless Presence. It is time to experience this directly as one who knows .

So, would you be a magical, experiential doorway where time and space, all that is lost and incomplete,
is found? Would you enter a way of being where consciousness may explore itself... where it may recognise itself in the mirror of itself... and finally see... with crystalline clarity... it is far more than that which is revealed. Would you?

Lastly, there are many facets to a diamond and this musing is no different; two more are exposed t hrough the artist's personal journey. Creation of the artwork, its place in the grand scheme of things, and assemblage of the jigsaw combine to reveal perspectives on reality that might otherwise be lost to the annals of time. They create a space wherein paradox is unveiled and where every facet of the diamond is seen to be whole. Follow the links below to find out how.

Read the artist's journey here

Explore the subtle in-between here