Reflections of 2020: Following Nature's Pulse

 

For me personally, when I tune into nature and let it be my teacher and guide, I find most of the answers I seek. Nature is highly intuitive, so it makes sense that my own intuition would be heightened in nature and my own personal vibration would be higher by merely tuning into my environment. Reflecting on 2020, I chose nature over news. Some may think this is crazy. How could I have possibly avoided the news?  It was everywhere. The truth is, I got it all without needing to watch it all. I was and am aware of what is going on. I found that when I watched news images, it put me in a place of fear and helplessness and I did not feel empowered. I chose to focus inward more and it helped me immensely during a time that was and is difficult for many. Instead of getting battered by the waves on the ocean, I chose to dive deep down where things were quiet. And not so surprisingly, I was able to help others during this tumultuous time from this place of balance and peace.

Instinctively, I chose to move away from Seattle in December 2019 and move to Sequim, Washington, to my parents' house. They were in Arizona for the winter and spring. This was a few months before the pandemic hit. I also arranged to teach online at my college for winter quarter without intellectually understanding that I'd be the first in my college department to be teaching a mostly online class several months before we'd all have to be online. Spring quarter, after the pandemic hit, I'd be asked to assist teachers in navigating online classes. I felt happy to serve in this way and to serve students from many different countries, some who found themselves alone in a country that was not theirs in the midst of a pandemic.

It wasn't a surprise that during this difficult time, I was surrounded by the incredible and nurturing beauty of Nature. I sensed what was coming and there were clear markers along the way and in my dreams that I've written about on this blog that perhaps prepared me in some way to be where I was.

There was a lot of work I was meant to do out there. I connected to the Native energy and frequently meditated, played my elk drum, met with other like-minded individuals online.

 On this blog in March, I wrote a Healing for the Earth series for one full month and guest healers/psychics also wrote posts. Down the street from my parents' house is Jamestown beach and the grave of Chief James Balch, a Native of the S'Klallam tribe. I frequently walked on that beach and played my elk drum down there by the Eagle Totem Pole. I made a medicine wheel on the beach made of shells and branches. Eagles frequently flew over me while I sat there on a log. Something unexplainable was happening. Healing on a level that I didn't fully understand with my limited human brain was taking place. I wasn't the only one doing this work. There were millions doing the work in both the physical and spiritual realms. There were people chanting, meditating and praying. Things were SHIFTING RAPIDLY. Many Earthlings were going through crises of all kinds. Some that I know are no longer on this Earth plane. Some worked the front lines in hospitals. Some barely made it through day to day living. I chose to hold steadfast to Nature. One morning I woke up and decided to hike the entire 11 miles of Dungeness Spit to the lighthouse. I got there at low tide mid-afternoon and did not return until the sun went down and the moon rose. I was the last soul on the beach that night and trekked through the last stretch of forest alone in the dark. I still remember the sea lion that emerged from the water at sunset, as if to say, "Hello!"

 There's a rhythm in nature that soothes me. There's a life force that follows an order so high that nothing can mimic or duplicate it. Through technology, humans have somehow lost touch with this pulse that has so much wisdom. Our ancestors knew of this wisdom. They understood the wind, the stars, the moons cycles. They knew how to find food and how to create shelter. They respected the land and even respected the animals they killed and ate. There was reverence for everything in Nature. Now, Nature is there to serve us, not teach us. 

In May 2020, my family returned to Sequim and I tried to move into my boyfriend's house in the city, but the city was too harsh for me with its traffic and noise and excess of human consumption. I think perhaps I'd gotten rather sensitive to being close to nature and it felt like quite an assault to the system to try to go back. So in June, I rented a cottage on Whidbey Island and in July I rented a tiny house in Port Townsend. I was back on the other side of the pond close to beaches and old growth forests. There, I continued to do the work I had done in Sequim. I swam in Discovery Bay and biked the Discovery Trail all the way to Port Angeles. I ate wild berries and picked wild flowers and sat outside in the grass staring at millions of stars. I communed with herons and eagles and hawks. The deer made frequent appearances. I wasn't off-grid, but I might as well have been. I continued to teach online through my college. My boyfriend would come on weekends from the city and he'd always feel so energized from the Nature in each place I stayed. Because I chose to live in smaller towns, I did not encounter as many people as I would in the city. I could hike freely sometimes without meeting a soul. This was a luxury, I realize now. 

As August was fast approaching, I knew I needed a change. I didn't want to settle into my boyfriend's place in the city AND his place was going to be torn down anyway to widen the road for, guess what??  MORE CARS! So we made a big decision. We decided to pack up his truck and I sold my car and we drove across country on September 2nd to Cape Cod, Massachusetts, his home town.

 We rented a house in the off-season on the Lower Cape. It's wild and more primitive out here. We are literally living on a sand bar with only 3 miles of land between the bay and the Atlantic Ocean. Nature is not to be messed with out here. This is where the pilgrims landed. This is where many shipwrecks have occurred. The wind and the waves ask you to move with them, not against them. I've seen the wind have its way with birds that lay dead on the shore. I've seen red foxes in my yard and sea turtles in the dunes. Recently a dead dolphin washed ashore on our beach. Most likely it was hunting fish and got caught in low tide. I've seen waves freeze from air so cold it bites right through your skin. I've experienced 70-mile-an-hour gusts of wind out here that shook my windows so strongly I was sure they'd break. I've also seen the ocean like glass, soft and welcoming even in early November, when I kicked off my sandals and sank into its smooth folds, letting it envelop me in its deliciousness. I've biked and walked and kayaked my way around this spit of sand. I don't have a car out here, so those are my modes of transportation, unless I drive my boyfriend to work in his truck so I can have the car for a day. He's working for his college friend as a carpenter out here. He repairs beach steps and builds decks and fixes trim for people with summer homes that are no longer here. I'm still teaching online for my college back in Washington. I feel blessed to be able to do that and be able to live in such a wild nature place. It's the best of both worlds.

For me 2020 has been all about Nature. I can't really sum up all that I've tuned into. From the ladybugs that are found crawling into the house to escape the cold to the sunsets that burn the sky red and orange to freezing waves and whipping winds. This place calls me outside constantly, no matter what the weather is doing. It calls me to tune more into IT and less into what is happening in the news on the BOXES THAT WE WATCH—TVs, computers, cell phones. That's not where my attention has been this year.  Maybe I've missed out? Maybe I don't know what's really going on?

But when I turn to Nature, I feel more informed than I ever have been. I feel at peace and at ease and I feel guided. I see signs and symbols everywhere and my intuition is strong. I wait for my next move like an eagle waiting high in a tree to swoop down and catch a fish. From up there, the view is WIDE. I'm able to sense and see more. I come from Nature after all, so it makes sense to me to follow Nature's pulse.

The Bridge Between the Earth Realm and the Spirit Realm is Nature

 When I step outside my door here on Cape Cod, I often feel a rapture or an ecstasy with the wild nature here. It invites me in, and, often times I lose track of time when I enter through nature's door. I become keenly aware and my senses are elevated. Today I felt I would meet a guide on my path. I felt it before I met it. And there he was. Standing on the beach steps I frequently use to go down to the sand. We locked eyes for a minute. I felt this gentle, wild animal inside myself. His eyes stared directly into my soul, his fast, little heartbeat met with the sound of mine inside my chest. I didn't want to move. I just wanted to stay there on the edge with him.

Foxes are known for walking in both the earth and spirit realms. They are signs to tune deeper into intuition and less into the noise of the material world. This fox stayed with me and then disappeared down the steps and over the rocks. The tide was high, so I turned back towards the sandy path and noticed crows on a wire screeching loudly. My intuition told me to look down. And there the fox was again coming straight towards me. He had walked over the rocks near the beach and met me back on the street. As he got closer to where I was standing, he turned and walked across the road right in front of me. What a magical creature!

He disappeared behind some trees and then came out again with his back towards me and then turned and stared right at me again before turning to leave. Why did he come back? What was his message?

Intuitively I knew why he was there. I knew. I have been feeling the pull of the material world and all the noise. I can get pulled into it, but I'm being called to step away from it and step more into my spirit. I'm being called to be like the fox, in the world but not of it.

And this might sound strange and a little out there, but I'm not going to make excuses for who I am anymore. If there's any time to BE WHO I AM, it's now. I often walk this bridge between earth and spirit. Nature is THAT bridge. I have a foot firmly in both realms. I have had dreams of going into the spirit realm and filling up with light and then coming back to earth again and repeating this over and over. I'm not the only one doing this. When I go into the spirit realm in my dreams, I see many more among me doing the same. They fill with light and then return. Again and again. I often think, "What am I DOING here?" I know I'm being guided by my higher self, but it doesn't always make sense on this plane of existence.

I've thought to go off radar for a bit so I can tune more inward, but there's an equal need to share this information, not hide it. The fox affirmed for me today that I was on the right path.

"Foxes have powerful spiritual energy that can give you deep insight into your own spiritual gifts, how to manage them, and what to look out for when protecting your own energetic space. Foxes are intricately linked to intuition, the psychic gift of claircognizance (clear knowing), and being aware of energetic boundaries. they can appear in your life to awaken these gifts within you or to encourage you to trust your inner voice." (crystalclearintuition.com)

I know what I am here to do, or more precisely, what I am here to BE. I'm a teacher, healer, light worker, psychic, mystic, shaman practitioner, documenter, writer, intuit and seeker. I am grounded on the Earth to help people connect completely to who they are which is connected to who we ALL are: beings of love and light. I'm here to be a conduit of light on the planet (every earthling is, whether they realize it or not). I'm here to tell you that the bridge between the earth realm and the spirit realm is nature. There are important messages and signs everywhere, but you won't find them in mass media or on the news. You will find ALL of the answers inside you. It's your choice.

Riding the Winds of Change

"Sometimes in the winds of change, we find our true direction."—Unknown

 For two days straight, the wind blew shaking the windows in their frames. The howling through the trees surrounding our house on Cape Cod kept me up at night. The entire atmosphere was charged with the energy this wind had created. Two nights ago, my partner lay next to me sleeping, and I lay on my back staring at the ceiling wide awake. I was calm and safe inside, but there were moments when I felt like the wind might just pick up this house and blow it over Cape Cod Bay out into the open sea. I wasn't afraid, I was awake. 

The howling, whipping wind felt appropriate for what is going on on the OUTSIDE, out there in the world. I feel the heavy energy of the world out on the periphery. I'm not close to it, being that I'm choosing to live here out on a sand bar in the ocean. The ocean has a way of softening the sharp edges. It cleanses and reshapes. It has a way of taking all that's solid and stuck and making it flow again. I couldn't think of a better place to be right now, honestly.  Nature speaks to me all the time out here. It's where I get my news these days. 

I haven't checked the election results. I have no idea who is president of our country. I'm choosing to linger in the unknown. It's the only place any of us can really be sure of anyway. What do we know? Looking to nature for the news this morning, like I usually do, the headline to match the experience was CALM AFTER THE STORM.

I woke up to sun streaming through all 6 large, bedroom windows. Our room sits up high in the tree tops on the second floor. I could see blue birds and finches happily fluttering about the tops of the trees singing their songs. My boyfriend was already downstairs brewing coffee and singing a tune. He called up to me, "Hey, wanna go for a walk on the beach?" I pulled on some jeans, a fleece sweatshirt, wool socks and headed downstairs. We drank coffee together and chatted, but he soon realized there wasn't time for a beach walk, he had to head out to work. He's been working with his college friend in his carpentry business for the last two months since we got here. It's one of the reasons we were able to move here for the off-season. My job at Edmonds College in Washington State went online after the pandemic hit, so I can work from anywhere. Scott was finishing up carpentry jobs in Washington, so he was in a good position to move. So, at the end of August, we packed up all of our worldly possessions, some went into a tiny storage unit, one for each of us, and the rest traveled across county with us in Scott's truck. I sold my car to come here. Being car-less has forced me to use my body to get around and to be creative. I walk or bike lots of places. Thankfully, we live near a beach and there is a 26-mile bike trail near our house that goes to several nearby towns. Scott has been loving working outside in Wellfleet, Eastham and Orleans on the Lower Cape. Most of the home owners are gone for the season, so they spend their time sanding and refinishing decks and siding, pulling up beach stairs, putting storm windows on houses and repairing this or that. He sometimes sends me pictures of where he is working: a gorgeous house right on the cliff of a beach or an artsy house hidden in the trees. It's really a dream come true for both of us to be here. The fact that Scott's 96-year-old mom lives in Sandwich and that his brother and cousin live out here, along with several friends, made it easy for us to come.

And our house, well it's also a dream. A dream that we are currently living in anyway. We found a longterm rental in Eastham, near the beach that normally goes for $12,000 a month in the high season. We got it for 10 times less in the off-season. It was cheaper for us to come here than rent in Seattle. Our house is big for the two of us. But after living in tiny, one-room basement dwellings together, it is so nice to have all the space. We have not one, but three bathrooms. We are loving every minute of being here. I love the ocean being so close. I love that I am living on a sand bar with wild nature all around.

So Scott headed off to work and I wandered down the seashell path from our house to the beach.

 All the beach stairs along our private beach have been hoisted up for the season. The windows on the houses facing the bay have been boarded up and storm-proofed. I have to walk the wooden stairs halfway down to a rock landing and then scramble down over boulders the rest of the way to the beach.

 I can't believe that on October 22nd, I launched myself off one of those boulders into the warm bay waters where I lay on my back for what seemed like an hour, letting the buoyant salt water hold me up. Now, a chill was in the air and I donned a long, lightweight down jacket. The sun was bright in the sky and and the waning full moon was still out. I stumbled down onto the gold sand. The water had soft ripples, but otherwise was flat and calm. I walked down on the sand. The tide was coming in. By 1pm, it would be up to the beach steps. The calm in the air was so gentle. The seagulls sat motionless on the beach and little sand pipers were actively eating bugs and algae by a patch of beach grass. A rippled sand bar stretched out for a mile. I walked out on it mesmerized by the intricate, grooved pattern in the sand. How these patterns form and then are washed away was symbolic to me. The sand glistened in the warm sun and little gold specks popped out. I picked up a handful of these tiny grains and let them sift through my fingers. So small, these grains of sand are, that make up the beauty of the the beach. The wild ocean and winds were always molding, shaping and changing the environment. Who knows, really, if this little sand bar known as Cape Cod would be here in the future? Well, it's here now. And I am here now.

Somehow I was able to ride the wind out and enjoy the calm after the storm. Our house is still standing and there wasn't any devastation. I knew that if I went INSIDE, deep within myself, I'd be just fine. I didn't need to get pulled into its fury or curse its sound. I could listen to it objectively, knowing that it wouldn't last forever. None of this is forever. And that, somehow brought me great peace and allowed me to step out into the calmness of the day today, fully present and fully alive. What a gift it is to be here now.

Leaving: Learning to Live in the Flow of Life

 

Well, it's August 28th almost. 2 months before my 51st birthday. What a year 2020 has been. I can't say it's been terrible. I started this year in Sequim on the Olympic Peninsula and now I'm back in Sequim saying goodbye to my family and this land. 

The pandemic hit while I was out in one of the most beautiful places in Washington. Sequim boasts a gorgeous spit and seaside, Dungeness crab, the nearby Olympic mountains and it's home of the lavender festival. The flat roads make it an excellent place to bike ride and nature here in unbeatable.

Eagles, hawks, coyotes, deer and elk are prevalent. In the winter I had the pleasure of watching trumpeter swans circle above a field of snow before landing gracefully upon it. I saw an eagle so close I thought it might land on me and deer curled up outside my window at night. While I was in this Shangri-la for 5 months, nature sheltered me from feeling isolated during the pandemic. I was so absorbed and protected by nature that rather than feeling scared and alone, I felt expansive and connected. 

Somehow all of that prepared me to LEAVE a place you'd never want to to leave.

Who in their right mind would leave here, I wondered. 

For months I tried to find property to buy out here and even put in a few offers, but everything always fell through. Sometimes I'd get so frustrated and wonder, why can't I find any place to live out here?

And I'd try to force the missing puzzle piece into a space that was clearly not meant for it. Have you ever tried to wedge a puzzle piece in the wrong spot. You want it to fit, but it simply doesn't, so you need to then let go.

But wow! Leaving and letting go is hard. 

I don't know how I got to this point of leaving. All I know is that all signs pointed EAST. And it seemed strange and peculiar to me. Why go east? Well, for one, Scott's 96-year-old mother is there AND his friend who owns a carpentry business on the Cape needs help while he undergoes carpal tunnel surgery, so there were some factors. But there's something more than that. Something I may never know until I get there.

You have to leave the city of your comfort and go into the wilderness of your intuition. What you'll discover will be wonderful. What you'll discover is yourself.—Alan Alda 

 Leaving a place of comfort is scary, especially when it is so beautiful. Yet my intuition tells me to go. Whenever I've followed my intuition, I've always been led to exactly the right place at the right time. I know it's where I need to be. I can't tell you why. 

In the wilderness of my intuition there is no right or wrong. There's just what's right for each one of us. I prefer to dwell in this space because I find I to be very rich. It's an endless fountain of new information that unfolds and I'm open to it. I call this FLOW and I'm excited to let you know that I'll be teaching an intuitive writing  class for 5 weeks starting on Monday, October 5th called From Fear to Flow. The class will be from 5-7pm Pacific Standard Time. You can read more about it and sign up here: https://mailchi.mp/a6a9804cf8c3/tools-for-our-times-from-fear-to-flow-intuitive-writing-course-offered-by-author-katherine-jenkins-and-seattle-psychic-institute

My intuition told me to check myself into a hotel room for a few days while my boyfriend sifts through all his belongings. I don't do well in complete chaos, so I felt called to come out here and say goodbye to the land and my family.

The flow is calling me to go and I can't know what I'm leaving behind as I step through this door. I can tell you that when all systems say "Go!" staying is not an option, at least in my experience. When I move against the flow of things, or against what my intuition is telling me, I find that I become stagnant or stuck.

I can't tell you this time has been easy. In fact, trying to pack up and leave this place has been downright HARD. I returned to complete chaos at my boyfriend's home. I could not fathom how we would leave on the day we planned to. There were boxes and clothes and tools and piles of junk everywhere. Some of it was mine, but most of it was Scott's. It challenged our relationship because I don't do well in chaos, yet here I found myself in one of the most challenging states of being for me and I was putting one foot in front of the other. We were working together and helping each other, albeit, in a crazy, unorganized kind of way. I can't say we didn't yell at each other. IT WAS INTENSE. But we both continued to move forward because somehow we both believed that whatever was on the other side of that door was worth it. We both believed in it. At one point, we realized that we'd have to let go of things. That the car carrier Scott paid for would not work on the car. Scott became more ruthless than I'd ever seen him. He let go of so much. A trip to the dump without giving a second thought to things that would normally seem important was evidence of that. It was his choice. 

A friend called in the middle of all of this and I texted her back telling her I couldn't talk. She said, "Oh, you are in the bottleneck part of things." That was an understatement. I felt like I was back in the birth canal. I wanted out. I was in fight or flight mode big time. I felt like throwing in the towel. To leave was just too much. Scott was going through his own inner stuff. He would get side tracked or fixated on something and forget what he was doing. He began to punish himself or feel bad about not having it more together. But a day before we left, we both realized, SHIT, WE MADE IT THROUGH THE DAMN BOTTLENECK!!!! Whatever we both went through, we made it through and are better for it.

Now, you may think moving is no big deal, but try leaving your friends and family and everything you've come to know. Try leaving all the security that is in place for you—things you lean on and expect to be there. Leaving all of that for some UNKNOWN life, with a few "sort of" solid things in place, like a rental for three months and jobs that are a little shaky, but still there, was challenging! Add to the fact that the world is in a crazy unknown state as it is, this move seemed insane.

BUT it wasn't all about us. I know it may sound cheesy, but something bigger was calling us to go. And being that we've both done a lot of inner work, when that info comes down the pike, you go with it. 

And I knew it was right when we shot out of that bottleneck onto the open road. I knew in every cell of my being that every single thing we went through to get to this place was right. As we headed out towards Eastern Washington, there was a slight haze in the sky. It felt like there had been some fires. The skies were blue, but there was something, another challenge, about to befall the West Coast. It literally felt like fires were on our backs as we drove East. 

And there was rain all the way from Billings, Montana to Camden, New York. RAIN on the plains. It was unusual. When we woke up in our Airbnb in Upstate NY, the skies cleared. It was a perfect early fall day and we drove easily and happily through the Berkshires. We stopped at a rest stop and got fresh fruits and veggies from an Amish woman selling her goods from her farm. We stopped by U-Mass, Scott's alma mater, and finally we arrived out on the strip of sand known as Cape Cod, with thousands of stars above us and the ocean breeze and smell of salt water all around us. 

We soon discovered we were lost, even though everything pointed to the fact that we were home. 

We parked and fumbled around in the dark, stumbling down sandy paths looking for our home. Dozens of cottages were tucked in the trees, but we couldn't find our place. Scott took charge and called his friend who lives on the Cape. His friend said, "Try Google Maps, sometimes another GPS gets you there." That was the ticket.

Before long, we were in our three-story home with THREE bathrooms (after living in tiny homes and spaces with Scott, this was HUGE!) It was gorgeous. We went up to the top level where there is a look out deck and listened to crickets and stared at the Milky Way! We arrived on 9-11, but it was not an emergency. We were giving a new name to this date. It was a beginning. A time to face fear head on and enter FLOW. We are in that flow now. It's the reward of moving through something challenging. I have guilty feelings for all the bliss I've been feeling since I got here (more on that in the next post), but I can tell you with all certainty, that I'm appreciating every single second. In the end, we only have all the seconds of our lives that make up this one. Every second is an opportunity to move with the flow of life, even if it is hard at times. 

Much love to all of you,

Katherine

Going Off-Grid

For about two months, I've been off Facebook and a bit off-grid. I'm currently living in a tiny house on a bluff overlooking Discovery Bay in Port Townsend. Before that, I lived for a month out on Bush Point on Whidbey Island overlooking the water. Ever since my classes went online due to the Coronavirus, I haven't felt the desire to be in the city. For the most part, I've lived pretty unplugged and it's been the biggest blessing. Some may say that I don't care about what's going on. It really depends on your perspective of things.  I've felt called to work more inwardly than outwardly. One is not better than the other. It is just what you feel called to do. That is IT! I'm not here to judge what you are doing and hopefully you are not here to judge what I'm doing. Hopefully we can see the benefit of all of it. Hopefully we can reach a place where we value what each human is moved to do or be, regardless of whether it fits into our ideas of things. As long as we are not intentionally harming anyone and the motivation is one of love, I think all paths are valid.

Out here in the tiny house, I'm called each day to hike down the bluff to the water and walk the long stretch of beach that is virtually empty of people. Every now and then I may see a soul or two, but not often. Instead of people, I'm communing with the blue herons, eagles, hawks, ravens, otters and seals. For some time now, I've been communing with wild animals. They seem to speak a language that I understand or am beginning to understand. Today a blue heron landed in a pine branch above my head. Have you ever seen a blue heron land in front of you. Those things are mammoth and look like pterodactyls. The energy of this animal is amazing. And to witness a bald eagle eye-level with me on the bluff as I sit quietly in a chair on the edge of the cliff, well, there's no other place I'd rather be.

The eagle speaks to me these days. He's the symbol of our times. Well, the eagle is the symbol of our country, yet maybe we've forgotten what it symbolizes on a spiritual level. The eagle sits high above the fray. It observes. It doesn't jump into this or that easily, it looks at the big picture. It witnesses with keen eyes that see all. It knows precisely when to make a move and precisely when not to make a move. A few days ago I sat with my morning coffee high up on the bluff witnessing the eagle. Two crows swooped down on the eagle and were being very menacing. They seemed to want to get its attention or get it to move, but it sat with its talons clinging firmly to a pine branch. It did not move or was not swayed by these birds. It observed their behavior with amusement, it seemed. I even felt a sense of compassion for the crows. How they wanted the attention the eagle so desperately, but the eagle wasn't there to amuse them. It was there to watch over all that was going on. What a powerful bird the eagle is. How majestic it is when it lifts off from a branch to soar high above the earth. How keen its eyes are to really SEE.

I think that's it. I'm here to SEE. Not to see what you are doing or what everyone else is doing or to follow the latest news, but to go inward and feel what I am personally moved to do.

And out here, I'm moved to meditate, commune with nature, witness, observe, feel, sense, intuit. I'm here to work from the inside out. So much attention is given to what is happening outside. What about what's happening inside? Recently I've found that that is exactly where all the answers are. At least for me.

Living in a tiny house for a month has also been eye-opening. I love it! What more do I need? Over the years I've slowly whittled down my belongings. I have a small storage unit and no permanent home to speak of. I dream of owning a piece of land  near water with a self-sufficient tiny home. I don't need much, really.

For now, I'm content in the "not knowing," I'm okay in the now. I am flowing with each day and each day brings new things. What a miracle it is just to be alive. How lucky we are to be here on Earth! What an amazing thing that is.

At night, out here on Cape George Road, there are a million stars. Jupiter and Saturn have been so bright in the night sky. I can see tiny stars between bigger stars and the Milky Way swirls above me. One night, after visiting my boyfriend for a night in the city (we actually went to Sunset Hill Park at night and saw the comet Neowise), we took a night ferry boat to Kingston  and arrived after dark at the tiny house. All was quiet up on the bluff and the stars made us stop and pull up chairs and sit with our heads straight up in silence. A few shooting stars moved across the night sky. How small we all are. How short our time here is. Yet we live on in one form or another for eternity. The animals and the stars and the plants have no agenda but to "be". Their being-ness draws me in and speaks to me. Speaks about a time when we did not need words or computers or TV or money. We knew. We moved the way animals move. We understood without speaking. We knew the direction of the wind and understood where we were by the position of stars. The earth was not something to tame for human consumption, it was a part of us and we a part of it.

I'm called back to remember. I want to hear this soundless sound again. I want to bear witness to the eagle in me and me in the eagle. I want to taste the thimble berries now juicy and ripe on the branch and pluck huckleberries growing out of old-growth tree stumps. I want to put my ear to a shell I find in the smooth, soft sand and hear the wild ocean and I want to taste the salty sea on me. I'm not afraid to jump into the frigid waves and stick my head down under the seaweed-ed bay and dive to the bottom and touch the earth there where it's quiet and soundless. I will dry myself off on a log on the beach and lay there until I'm moved to rise. Do I have time? Do I have time to just be? What else is there to DO actually?

And so this is what I'm doing out here. I'm teaching online and tuning in and feeling each moment and allowing it to guide me. I'm not moving in fear, I'm moving in FLOW and flow has so much to teach me. All of life is actually a flow. It's the mind that clings and attaches and insists. It's the mind, our prize possession, that can stop the flow of life. 

Was it the Buddhists who said, "If you want to be free, remove your head?" I get that. 

Life is not linear, it is happening all at once on many levels. What you are witnessing now is no accident. It was precisely designed for YOU to witness. Are you witnessing? Reacting? Are you in fear or in flow? 

The flow is shifting for me soon. Rationally, it doesn't make a lot of sense. If I try to wrap my head around all the details, I don't get very far. But in the moment, all is quite beautiful and amazing and there is a tremendous love and gratitude inside. I feel very blessed and am not afraid. I feel guided. And even if what I do does not make sense to many, It makes sense to me. I'm going to let go and keep following this flow....

Reflections of Self Healing Day Two: Nature Holds the Key

Dear Earthlings,




"...the heart in thee is the heart of all; not a valve, not a wall, not an intersection is there anywhere in nature, but one blood rolls uninterruptedly an endless circulation through all men, as the water of the globe is all one sea, and, truly seen, its tide is one."—Ralph Waldo Emerson

Wowee! What a world we are living in. So much unknown out there and everyone is trying to assert their own opinions of what is true. What is true for you may not be true for me. Now there's a TRUTH. 

I had a dream last night where millions of people were staring into tiny screens the size of Zoom boxes looking for all the answers. They were focused on the screen to tell them what to believe. And these individual screens became very REAL for each person. They were so real that they couldn't imagine believing anything beyond what they saw or read on the SCREEN.

The screens and images on the screen became part of their brains and bodies. They each walked around with a screen for a brain. 

And they forgot about the birds and the bees and the flowers and the trees. It was all about people. It wasn't even about EARTHLINGS, but people who were separated from their environment. And as long as they tuned into the screen, the perceived safety of that little square, all was okay, so each one of them thought.

But then people started attacking each other because their screen information didn't match another person's screen information. They were all reacting to what was projected on their screens. And then they were trying to find screens that matched their screens to attack the other screens.

Gee Whiz, maybe there's been waaaaaay too much screen time these days!

Yesterday I spent the entire day gardening with my boyfriend. He lives in a house in Shoreline and the person who lived there before him was into gardening and left an amazing garden, but it had become overgrown and chaotic.

It felt so good to get my hands in the earth and to feel my body as part of the earth. Stepping into that garden allowed me to move away from the screen and step into my own frequency. I felt my hands touch the soil. I dug holes and planted tomatoes, zucchini, peppers, herbs and other veggies. I smelled that pungent earthy smell of composted soil with all those nutrients. I plucked some mint and popped it into my mouth. I harvested leeks and collard greens and celery and made a fragrant stir fry, adding herbs and other spices. All my senses came to life. 

When I work long hours on the computer, I'm aware of a metallic energy. It doesn't feel natural. Sometimes my body becomes cold and I have to get in a Himalayan salt bath to feel my natural energy again. It's only when I get outside and feel my body move under the leafy green trees and along the pine-needled path that I feel alive and part of each thing. My boyfriend found a bird feeder in his shed. I filled it with wild finch seed and today a finch with a glowing orange breast came to the feeder for several minutes. I watched in awe of this creature as it fluttered its wings in happiness at this amazing feast. 

This morning, my boyfriend and I juiced beets, apples, celery, carrots, ginger and collard greens from the garden. Drinking this elixir was like drinking the earth itself. I could feel every cell come alive and I felt my body connect deep down into the many layers of earth and then outward to every living thing. And when I grounded myself, I felt my own frequency. It wasn't part of the so-called world-wide web. It wasn't about Zoom or governments, or money, or the daily news. It was beyond right and wrong and judgements and criticisms and thoughts and fear.

 It was a web so ancient and immense, with an intelligence much greater than anything we humans could ever dream up. It extended and connected all of life. It vibrated and pulsated with pure energy. Life and death were part of the entire picture. They were as natural as the brilliant hues of autumn foliage, which are essentially dead leaves. There was no need to preserve anything because each living thing fed back into the earth to bring new life. We are drops of water in the ocean of time, yet we are living like we are the most important beings on the planet. We rush around in cars with schedules chocked full and in the end we have no time for anything. We've been running to our own demise for some time.

When I'm able to pull my energy back to my core or center,  I'm able to feel my own breath, sensations, emotions, intuition, inner stirrings and senses. I'm not seeking outside myself for answers. The answers are always right here in each moment and each moment becomes my life. 

Earthlings were not meant to be locked inside with computers, they are part of this earthly web and disconnecting from it can have much more dire consequences than anything currently threatening the human species.

My own experience tells me to connect with nature. Nature holds the key to everything and it also nourishes my life and all lives. It can survive without us, but we can't survive without it. By tuning into nature on a very deep level, I sense a language that has been forgotten. It's in the wind, the trees, the calls of birds, the tides, the phases of the moon and sun. It's in me.

Reflections on Self Healing Day One: Walking With Your Wounds Wide Open

Hello fellow Earthlings,

I thought I'd try my hand at a poem today. I used to write poetry in college and even published some of my poetry, but gave it up long ago. Well, here, I go:

Walking With Your Wounds Wide Open

That place

where you touch me

makes me recoil

in fear

that you will see my wound

beneath masks

smiles are

hidden

And I'm safe

for now

perched 

high above

in this 

nest 

over 

the 

city

where 

no one 

can 

see 

my wound.

Facebook 

Fakebook

who 

are 

you 

inside?

What if our wounds met?

What if we removed the masks?

What if you saw 

who I really am?

Heart to heart

Hand in Hand

Don't touch

Don't breath

Don't speak

Just hold me close

in 

silence.

Well, that poem just wants to be there for now. Most of my writing is stream of consciousness. I don't edit much. The last few days have been an assault to the senses, all of them beaten raw. Three days ago, I felt like a bird that had entered a building and was trapped inside frantically looking for an exit. I felt like I was banging my bruised body against glass. I so want everyone to be okay, but I am not. I'm not here to please you and I don't owe you anything. My life and my story are just as important as yours. If we could walk with hands over hearts and say, "I see you and I feel you," what a world we would have. Fighting, anger, the silent treatment, narcissism, control, assumptions, false perceptions, medication, spiritual bypass, corruption, manipulation, alcoholism, drug addiction, lying, stealing, speaking behind others backs are all there like royal cloaks covering these gaping wounds. I too have participated in this madness. What in the world are we doing? All of it made me want to flee and so I took up residence in this perch high above the city for a few days. I took off my mask and my shoes and sat here on the edge of the bed with nothing on but this wound. It's the one I've carried around since childhood. It's the one that pleases and wants everyone to feel okay. It's the one that worries that I'll say something that will upset you. It's the one that is afraid to get too close to my lover because I might let down my guard completely and be seen and fully loved for who I am. It's the wound that keeps getting reinfected because I let others trample all over it. I keep giving people the benefit of the doubt, only to get smacked down again. Did I tell you that I have a really good counselor? She has seen me since my husband left. She couldn't get through to him, but she got through to me. She sees right into my soul and holds me in that place where it hurts and sits with me there and tells me "That's where the good work is happening, let's stay there." And her heart opens wide and so does mine. Your story and your life are important, but what story do you want to live now? I am done carrying this wound around, but in order for it to heal, it needs deep love and attention.  No one in the world can give me that love and care if I don't give it to myself. Two nights ago, I took a bath in the clawfoot tub. Inside I sprinkled scented Himalayan salt. Salt for the wounds is so painful, but so healing. I sat in that steaming water and let it soothe me. I let go and allowed myself to be cradled in that warmth. And when I got out, I rubbed coconut oil over my skin and took deep sips of herbal tea and breathed. And I saw that this spot was no longer raw and exposed and vulnerable. I saw that it was healing and that it was not in danger of being cut open again because it had received the proper attention and care. It had received my own deep love. And this morning, after being here alone for three days without much interaction, I walked through the city in the pouring rain through half-deserted streets and boarded up shops and I knew, with full confidence, that I will never again hide who I am. I'm not afraid anymore. I'm going to fly high. Soon I will fly from this perch, but I won't be going back to where I came from. I'm flying to where my heart sings! I'm heading back to where the eagle soars. I know what it feels like to have those piercing eyes stare straight into my soul. 

The eagle that stared into my soul at Dungeness Spit

The eagle is Scorpio's totem along with the Phoenix. I wear the sign of death and transformation. I'm not afraid to die. While a scar may still remain, it doesn't brand me for life. I'm free to choose my path. I'm free to die each day. And this story will be written and it may not be the one you thought you'd read, but it will be true and it will be good.

Healing for the Earth, Day 30: Life, Death and Waking Up To This Moment Right Here and Now

Dear fellow Earthlings,

Day 30 is here and so is River with thoughts about life and death and the precious moments we have right here, right now in front of us. I'm so pleased to have River, the facilitator of my shaman circle, here to share her beautiful words with us all. I will be back tomorrow with final words of how this month of blogging was for me, but now, here's River....

Earlier today, a man came and took Dad’s car away. Moments after reading Mae’s story, I was still close to tears. So, perhaps it wasn’t surprising that as I watched it go I had a flash of remembering the ambulance that took Dad’s body away a year ago. I welcome the tears for the second time today, sitting on the front steps in the warm spring light, the smell of Daphne and Magnolia scenting the air. I miss him. I’ll never stop missing him.

There’s no doubt that the love is still here. Pure and strong. His face is so clear and close. I’m grateful for the old photo of him I found in the garage a few days ago. Just like I remember him; steering the boat, an old outboard. He’s brown as a berry, smiling, relaxed, free. He used to take me out of school this time of year if it was sunny out, so we could get out on the water. Lots of times it was just me and Dad.

Now, I’m walking in my neighborhood. Its a beautiful spring day and flowers are blooming everywhere. The air is fresher than its been in a long time and there are so few cars on the road its a pleasure to walk down the middle. I grew up in small towns and developed my love of walking down the middle of the road honestly.

It’s as if the neighborhood is waking up to itself. There are people out in front yards doing all kinds of things. Gardening, cleaning out garages, working on cars. Off work and tired of being cooped up and isolated, people are smiling at one another and starting up conversations with neighbors they’ve previously barely glimpsed. From a safe social distance of course. And now I’m discovering my neighborhood as it discovers itself. When I discover a park at the end of the road, with wetlands, dirt trails and a beaver dam, I feel like I’ve won the lottery.

Even though I’m enjoying the astonishing gift of today, I’m also walking along thinking about death. Sometimes, when I think about dying, its scary. Maybe its because I don’t know what it will be like for me. I know that even if I could hear every story that ever was, I still wouldn’t know. I’m hoping for an experience something like Mae’s experience with her friend Robin. I hope I’ll be smiling and with someone who loves me. I wish that for everyone. I send out a silent prayer, as I often do, when I remember those who are dying of the virus at this very moment. May Divine Mother hold each and every one.

As I walk, I'm thinking and feeling into it all, right here in the middle of what is usually a busy road. And I find another fear curled up inside my fear of death. The fear that I will fail. I love this World more than words can say. Its beauty feeds me, heart and soul. Its Aliveness is my aliveness. And Humanity, with our struggle to be born as a Global People, is heartbreaking and beautiful, and so in need of our collective compassion and support.

I need to be of service. Am I doing everything I’m suppose to do today? Am I missing chances to make a difference?

There is some Thing, holding me right this moment as I question my life and my purpose. Something beneath and all around me and its strong, solid and calm. It is Compassion for this need I have, this wanting to be worthy of my life and this Beauty. It holds me through the grief of having failed over and over again, and accepts me as I am right now, gently encouraging me to step into Life. What is this? Who is this? "Hu..."

The answer comes as birds singing and sky bluer than I’ve seen in years. A particular shade I’ve only seen here where I live and nowhere else. Warm sun and people puttering in their gardens, cleaning out garages, washing cars, planting flowers. Our neighborhood is getting more beautiful by the moment. I breathe a little deeper.

With Love, River

For over 10 years, River Ledgerwood has practiced as a Sufi Mystic and Shamanic Healer. She is a Reiki Practitioner level II, and Dervish Healing Order Healing Conductor with the Ruhaniat International Sufi Order. She co-teaches with Hank Wesselman at Breitenbush Hot Springs Retreat and Conference Center and Mosswood Hollow in Duvall Washington.

Healing for the Earth Day 28: More About Meditation by Guest Blogger Scott Walsh

Dear Earthlings,

 Day 28! Another fabulous post by guest blogger Scott Walsh. Enjoy!

Ah the coronavirus, the CORONAVIRUS!!  Have you heard the latest pronouncement from Gov. Inslee?  It’s now illegal to post something on Facebook that ISN’T about the coronavirus.  Ha ha, small joke there.  

I came across a quote from the 17th c. mathematician Blaise Pascal that is very appropriate for these times: “All (people’s) miseries derive from not being able to sit in a quiet room alone”.  Way to anticipate social distancing 400 years ago, Blaise.  For myself, being told I should stay in my house IS in my comfort zone.  This morning before I arose I thought of the deliciousness of the morning routine to come: raising the blinds, pouring coffee out of that steaming, burbling little device I use, sitting down at my kitchen table to write as I watch streaked sunlight make its way across the backyard.  

Of course, full disclosure, it hasn’t ALL been domestic bliss.  In light of all that’s happening, insecurity about my economic prospects had me FREAKING OUT a few days ago.  I imagine this must be a widespread phenomenon.  Normal life as we know it has ground to a halt.  Suddenly, stopping to smell the roses has become one of the few remaining items on our rapidly shrinking daily to-do lists.  

As for freaking out, it helps that I have been a meditator for a few decades now.  What this means is, when I sat down and closed my eyes, I was able to put some borders around that little freaking out voice, which was yapping away like a small dog woken up by the mail carrier.  Here’s the thing about meditation: it’s a practice built around the fact that one thing we humans will always have, is the freedom to CHOOSE where we focus our attention.  

Some times it might seem that it’s not us, but what’s happening to us, that determines where our attention goes.  For instance, when it suddenly looks like my carpentry clients might have to withdraw their financial support because THEY’RE worrying how THEY’RE going to get paid, then you could say: but of course a little worrying on my part is natural. Unavoidable even.  

OK, I COULD say that, but it’s actually more than a little worrying.  Remember the solar eclipse?  What was that three years, though it seems like a lifetime, ago?  Remember how our fair friendly sun was COMPLETELY BLOCKED OUT for about an hour?  Well that’s worry for you.  All semblance of a pleasant, joyful, manageable existence is GONE.  It’s just OUT THE WINDOW.  

And not only does that SUCK, but as a believer in the Law of Attraction, because I’ve seen it play out so many times in my own life, I now hold as a TRUE FACT that worrying is a sure fire way to manifest SUCK-INESS IN THE FUTURE.    

For these two reasons then, when I sat down to meditate I wasn’t in the mood for half-measures.  The careening craziness of my mind, batting like a pin ball from one subject to another - from what my clients had said, to wondering about the future, to working out the probabilities of things - all of it had to STOP.  

There was all that mental screaming.  Yes, all that.  And then there was something else to focus on, the fact I was ALIVE, as evidenced by my breath: IN and OUT.  In and out.  In and out.  

But WHAT ABOUT THIS!!!!?????!!!!!!, went my mind.  And for a few seconds more I was carried away on a sleigh ride to the land of TUMULT.  Fear.  FEAR FEAR FEAR FEAR !!!!!!!!!!  And Worry.  FEAR AND WORRY, FEAR AND WORRY!!!

It wanted to overwhelm me.  It wanted to carry me away, like water sucked down a drain.  

And for a while it seemed like it would.  For a few seconds.  The noise and the worry and the fear seemed like all there was.  But like I said, I’ve been doing this for a while, and I’ve learned to count on the fact that in the middle of whatever I might be feeling or thinking, there’s always life; there’s always the passage of time.  There’s always the ability to FOCUS on that unwinding journey from the present of now to the present that comes later.  

This, strange to say, helps.  It gives the lie first of all to the idea that circumstances determine what I give my attention to.  Actually no, I get to choose.  

Secondly, it quiets me down.  That yapping voice I spoke of is put inside a cotton-lined box, then it goes away entirely, as long as I keep putting my focus on the now.  My heart rate and breathing slow down.  

Thirdly, after doing this for awhile, the moment seems to EXPAND. 

If we are used to moving through time the way a person walks down a trail - then let’s be honest, as we go down that road, mostly we’re thinking about where we’re going and where we’ve been.  So, just by making the intention to stop and notice the scenery along the way, we get to the point where that scenery looms larger.

There’s the clock ticking that suddenly seems really loud, and the whoosh whoosh of cars going by.  The breath going in and out of my nose; now my nose itches.  Scratching nose.  This reminds me of a friend.  That was a weird conversation we had a week ago.  Then another thought piggy backs on that one, and another and another.  That’s thinking for you.  At some point I realize I’ve gone off track, and try to bring my mind BACK to the moment.  I notice in the interim my heart rate has gotten faster.  I notice the air entering and exiting my nose.  I notice that the time interval between all these things starts taking on a depth.  Rather than being a point, a milestone unceremoniously crossed along the ruler of time, the intervals in between start taking on a “thingness” all by themselves.  This doesn’t happen every time I meditate, but sometimes it feels as if I could take a right angle from where I’m going and delve into the minuscule micro-seconds of time like a skier cutting down a slope of untouched powder.  It’s a little hard to explain, a little freaky even, but it sometimes feels that everything there is is right there - a whole universe encapsulated in a single moment you could say.

The fourth and final thing I’ve noticed about meditation also doesn’t happen every time I do it.  The times it has happened however have profoundly affected the way I think about myself in the world.  

First of all, I want to say that I was attracted to meditation because there wasn’t too much in the way of doctrine or dogma or any sets of beliefs I needed to adhere to.  There was no need for a leap of faith.  There was only the intention toward staying aware about what was going on with me when I sat down to meditate, and a good word for that is MINDFULNESS.  The breath goes in and the breath goes out - the idea was to practice putting my focus there, and one word you didn’t hear very often in this tradition was “heretic”.  

But in the middle of all that a funny thing happened.  I would say that for me this was a significant thing; and saying that I understand that its significance would not necessarily be the same for everybody.  

Simply put, in the middle of some of my deeper meditations, I began to have the profound, and therefore very real sense that I was not alone.  I came away from these peak experiences with the impression that instead of being the singular glob of matter in a universe filled with similar objects the way my teachers in school had explained,  I was somehow part of a fabric that included everything, and like everything, my existence was somehow important, even necessary.  

It may sound crazy, because there certainly was no logic involved, but the deeply-felt perceptions I was having didn’t need a logical framework in order to satisfy me about their authenticity.  There was something about them that the innermost regions of my mind, what I would now call my “soul” responded to.  I believed in them without the need to second guess myself, and as I said, my whole world view changed.

Anyway, that’s what I have to say about this subject.  Good luck, and by way of a farewell, I’d like to repeat what I just said - and what I now whole-heartedly believe: that ALL of us are NECESSARY.  All of us are VITAL.

All the Best!

Scott Walsh is a teacher of meditation and and psychic techniques and is the co-founder of The Seattle Psychic Institute.  He has been practicing meditation most of his life, has been a psychic for 18 years and a teacher for 7 years.  The sense of connection, purpose and joy that practicing these techniques have brought him can’t be over emphasized.  

Healing for the Earth, Day 27: Life in Isolation by Guest Blogger Kirk Harris

Hello fellow Earthlings!

We have a special guest, Kirk Harris, here on my blog all the way from the woods of Breitenbush, where he has been living and working for 6 plus years. He shares his experience of isolation and what that means to him and how he is navigating these strange times we are in. Thanks for being here Kirk!

Greetings from the woods: Life in isolation at Breitenbush

Life at Breitenbush is an experience unlike anything I have had in my life so far. I moved up here in the summer of 2014 and was immediately taken by how much different it was from where I had lived the majority of my life this time around. I primarily lived in a more urban type of environment. I was, and still am, amazed at how quiet and peaceful it can be living in the middle of the forest here in Oregon. To be able to see all the stars at night and the moon shining over the Breitenbush River as it roars along day and night is an amazing experience for the senses. It is one that I have not had the opportunity to enjoy or be mesmerized by before.

Having said that, the last 3 weeks here has been an eye opening, as well as a heart opening, experience as well. Nearly 4 weeks ago we decided to close to the public at what is the beginning of our busiest time of the year and to prepare for being closed for a period of time and we were not sure how long it would be. We were not sure how long we would be closed, if we would be able to open back and if so when that might be. We are still unsure and not exactly clear if and when that might be happening. Needless to say it has brought with it a sense of fear, anxiety and dread over some of us and that was only the beginning of what was to come, and is still coming.

Along with the fear, anxiety and dread of what might happen has also come a vastly different experience for me and some of the other folks who live here and call Breitenbush home and have called the land here home for some years. There are many aspects to this adventure for us here. For me Breitenbush and living and working here comprises 3 areas...The business of running a hot springs retreat center, the community of people here who steward and manage the land and the business and last, but certainly not least, the Land itself.

The circumstances and situations that are playing out lately here and around the world have brought most of the business aspects to a halt...there are no guests here these days which makes for a very quiet place to live and be. Not only people wise but energetically as well...it is a different Breitenbush and experience for sure. It has been an amazing experience to be here without the day to day business obligations of being at work and being of service to the guests...it has been profoundly different to be unplugged from that world and at first was very surreal and I found myself in a kind of shock that I had not experienced before and that has been expressed by others who live here.

This leads me to the second part of the experience here: The community here at Breitenbush. It would not be a surprise to some if the community, when isolated like we have been, physically as well as other ways, might fall apart in some ways. But much to my happiness and joy that has not been the case, in fact I have noticed and witnessed a kind of opposite effect...I have seen and experienced people pulling together instead of apart and this adventure we are all on has strengthened the community in many ways and it has been a joy to see people coming together to volunteer their time and effort to aid and help out the community to remain together. We are still here, still a community and still learning and growing from this experience...it has not been easy and without problems, challenges and other hard times and yet I think this has made all of us look at what is important and what are the priorities in our lives.

This brings me to the last part of the equation that I call Breitenbush. The Land! It has been my experience that I have grown closer to this Land that I fell in love with many years ago, the first time I came here. I have had the opportunity and time these last 3+weeks to see beyond what I had seen before and to dive deeper into what this Land really means, not just to me but to others who live here. It is interesting, and I am very grateful, that this adventure is occurring during spring when all is coming back to life after the winter.

The winters here can be kinda hard and difficult with all the rain, snow and greyness that winter brings with it, so being isolated like this in the winter might be very heavy. With the spring it is as if the Land is coming back to life and and telling us how important it is and how connected we all are and that we all need a breather and a chance to step back from the "busyness" and how it is important to take a deep breath and just be at one with where we are. Sometimes people will tell me "it must be really great to live and work in paradise" and while it is an amazing thing to live and work here...it is still work and there are hard challenges about living and working here.

This is a time for all of us around the world to look at life and where we are at and make decisions about how we want to live and the choices we have the freedom to make in regards to living that life. What are our priorities? What do we want "normal" to be? Do we want to go back to what we thought of as "normal" before this all started? Someone once told me that "normal is a setting on the washing machine". And I have taken that and looked at it recently and had the time to delve into that and dive deep to feel it and what it means. It has brought up a great many questions, thoughts, feelings, and desires about what I would like to see "normal" as in this world.

What do you want "normal" to be?

Kirk Harris has lived and worked at Breitenbush Hot Springs for almost 6 years as a member of the kitchen team. He also teaches Shamanic Journeying as part of the daily well being programs at Breitenbush. Kirk has been in the cooking field for over 25 years and also has been a counselor for over 10 years. Since moving to Breitenbush, Kirk has become more interested and involved in the area of Spiritual explorations and self discovery through many types of spiritual practices based in different schools of thought such as Buddhism, Taoism, Sufism and Shamanism. His interests include reading, writing, hiking, spiritual practices, being close to the natural world and interacting with his fellow cohabitants at Breitenbush...oh yes, and music. Since moving to Breitenbush, Kirk has been learning how to play several musical instruments including Ukulele, Drums, and Native American Flute.

Healing for the Earth, Day 26: Gardening for Health

"And forget not that the earth delights to feel your bare feet and the winds long to play with your hair."—Khalil Gibran

Hello fellow Earthlings,

Let me be the first to announce: I AM NOT A GARDENER.

Yet, 2020 seems to be the year that we step out of our comfort zones and do new things and wear different hats.

So today I put on the gardening gloves found in my parents' garage and grabbed a bucket and some gardening tools and went out in the sun and toiled in the Earth.

It felt good to get my hands dirty after having to keep them so damn clean with this virus. It felt good to get a little messy and talk to the 91-year-old neighbor over the fence about how he keeps his apple tree pruned in order to have a good crop of apples.

When I came outside to the garden, I think he was surprised. He hadn't seen me in months in the yard. I just don't hang out there. I tend to walk straight to the beach and hang out in other places on my walks.

He was gardening too and other people in the neighborhood were also gardening and some were walking their dogs and riding their bikes. It was a beautiful day!

"I'm a bit of a hermit," I told him.

"Actually, I am too," he said.

And then, "Do you sleep in? I never see the blinds opened."

I was a little embarrassed, but I rarely open the blinds on the side of the house that faces other houses. I only open the blinds that look out on the golf course. I guess I like my privacy out here. I like to write, and work on my class and do my own things. I enjoy exercise, but I'm not a big neighborhood socialite. In fact, most of the neighbors have never seen me. I'm sure they see my car and wonder, "Is there someone there?"

But today, like a bear that finally pokes its nose out of its den, I made an appearance in the hood. It felt good to be out in the sun working in the yard and talking to the neighbors. I saw a hummingbird and bees and a raven and a few eagles way up high. I would toil for awhile and then sit on the bench in the sun and then toil some more. I managed to fill a huge bucket full of weeds, but there's lots more to do. I feel like this may be a new activity for me as the weather starts to get nicer and warmer. Who knows? Maybe I'll even sit out on the deck in the sun and read! Whoa, now I'm really venturing out of my comfort zone!

I'm fortunate to be here at my parents' house. I'll be leaving here in May. I've enjoyed it so much. After living here for nearly 5 months, I've decided that I want to live on the Olympic Peninsula. My body and spirit love it out here. I love the spaciousness and all the hiking and nature and water nearby.

I don't know where on the Olympic Peninsula I'll land next, but wherever it is, I know I'd like my boyfriend to live with me and I'd love to get a cat. I hope I have nice neighbors like the ones here and I think I might just have to create a garden!

Do you like to garden? What do you like about it?

Healing for the Earth, Day 25: Death is a Part of Life by Guest Blogger Mae Esteban

Dear fellow Earthlings,

Wow! So much to think about as our Earth and lives go through this transition. My dear friend Mae Esteban, a hospice nurse, is here to tell us a powerful story of embracing transitions, including death, with grace.

When my dear friend and fellow Earth Sister Katherine asked me if I would be interested in writing for her blog, part of me jumped at the opportunity yet a part of me felt like, “What would I have to say that hasn't already been said?” I hesitated but then had a dream. Something was forming in my heart that wanted to be said.....

 I have many roles but one of the more prominent ones is my role as a hospice nurse. I work for a healthcare system in the greater Seattle area. Like everyone else, I am learning new ways of being in my different roles during this time of COVID-19. And despite the presence of the novel coronavirus, I still see my patients at their homes, wherever they may live, and help them during their end-of-life journeys. Some journeys are only a few hours while some can take several months. I have many stories that I could share but today I want to share the story of one particular person.

 I recently had a patient whom I've had the honor and privilege to care for pass away. I cannot tell you details as it would otherwise be a HIPAA violation and because of this, I will call my patient Robin. I met Robin weekly for several months. Robin was alert, oriented, ambulatory, and always, ALWAYS, had a smile for me. Not all my patients are like Robin. Many of them are bedridden and confused. I say this without any judgment as everyone's story is different. However, because Robin was the way Robin was, I got to know their personality quite well. I got to know not only Robin but also their spouse. Sometimes our visits felt more like social calls. We shared opinions of local restaurants. We talked politics. I made them laugh with the story of how my kids and I ate a whole Costco-sized red velvet cake on Valentine's Day, and they encouraged me to do it again! One of my favorite memories was when they shared with me the story of how they met more than 30 years ago. We all knew that if we had met under different circumstances, we would have been dear friends rather than patient-patient's spouse-and-nurse.

 If it wasn't for the increasing pain and lethargy, one might have doubted that Robin had a life-ending disease. But I knew, and Robin knew. It was for this reason that Robin, with the support of their spouse, had sought to exercise their right to use the Death with Dignity Act. (Here in the state of Washington, individuals can choose to end their life. There are many requirements and the individual needs to have met with two physicians.) Robin's pain had been escalating and every time we increased their pain medications, Robin would be comfortable for only a few days before their body rebelled and even more pain medication was required. Because of the public health's need to flatten the curve, our hospice program could no longer utilize some of the alternative or complimentary therapies we frequently used such as reiki or music thantology.

 After a horrible night which including the medics being called to lift Robin off the floor after a fall, Robin had decided it was time to take the medicine that would end their life. Robin's spouse called me that morning and so I drove over. I got all geared up in my car with my gloves, goggles, and mask, hating every second of it. Not only was it uncomfortable, but I hated the barriers it would create during our final moments together. Yet as much as I hated it, I also knew that I had a responsibility to the general public. I donned the PPE (personal protective equipment) that I was blessed to have and got out of my car. While the outside world dealt with the COVID-19 crisis, I entered Robin's home and the sanctuary that was their bedroom, staying aware of the present moment, realizing this gift of a final good-bye.

 Robin had not yet taken the life-ending medicine but was planning to do so soon. They laid in bed wearing their nasal cannula that provided supplemental oxygen and greeted me with a smile. My god, I loved that smile! I walked over and sat on a chair next to the bed. I knew that I was no longer following the 6-feet social distancing rule; but like my medical director likes to say, right now many things are a compromise. So while I was willing to wear the PPE, I was not willing to say good-bye from afar. At that moment, 6 feet may as well have been 6 miles.

 It was just the two of us in the room, though Robin's spouse preemptively brought in a box of tissues. The tissue was more for Robin since I couldn't remove my googles to use one. (By the way, crying in goggles sucks.) I had asked Robin if they wanted me present when they took the medicine and in that unselfish Robin way, they replied, “Well, what do you want?” I told them it was THEIR journey and after a pause and a smile, Robin said, “It's ok,” signaling the preference for it to be just them and a few close family members. During our remaining time together and through the tears, we held hands and I thanked them for allowing me to share these last few months with them. I told them how throughout this journey, they had shown nothing but courage and grace. I could see that they were at peace with the decision to move on. Before I left, Robin said to me, “I don't know what's on the other side, but I do hope we see each other again.” These words will forever be etched on my heart.

 Three hours later, I was notified that Robin had died.

 So what does this story have to do with healing the Earth?

 First, it's a reminder that death is a part of life. That the opposite of death is birth, not life. So to truly embrace life, one must be able to embrace death. Robin embraced life to the fullest. Robin enjoyed going outside in their garden and enjoyed good food. Their spouse always made Robin's favorite meals as they never knew when Robin's last meal would be. And just as they embraced life, Robin embraced death. There was no fear in the end. There was acceptance and with that came peace. So to help heal the Earth, we need to understand and accept that part of the Earth's cycle includes death.

 Secondly, it's a reminder that the death of anything is always followed by transformation. This will be true for Robin's spouse as they integrate their loss and grief into their new way of being. This will be true for me as I fondly remember my many visits with Robin and the lessons learned from them. This will be true for all of us who are witnessing death first hand in so many levels - whether it's the end of a business or employment, or the end of a way of living we once knew, or the end of the life of someone close to us. If we are to help heal the earth, we have to choose to transform into a new way of being that is healthy for us all – all of mankind regardless of race, religion, age, gender, or sexual orientation; all of nature including plants, animals, bodies of water, and even the rocks; and mostly for our Mother Earth. This transformation has to occur to us as individuals and us as a collective society. So I ask you now, while the Earth is in the middle of a huge transformation, how will you respond? Will you be like Robin who accepted death and faced their transition with courage and grace? Robin, I don't know what's on the other side either, but I do hope to meet each transition I encounter with as much courage and grace as you did. I need to do so for myself, for my kids, for all future generations, and for Mother Earth.

So I ask you now, while Earth is in the middle of a huge transformation, how will you respond? Will you be like Robin who accepted death and faced their transition with courage and grace?

Robin, I don't know what's on the other side either, but I do hope to meet each transition I encounter with as much courage and grace as you did. I need to do so for myself, for my kids, for all future generations, and for Mother Earth.

Mae Esteban has been a registered nurse for 24 years with the last 8 in hospice. She is the single mother of two and is passionate about living life's adventures with them. She enjoys traveling and has been many places including the top of Mt Kilimanjaro. She loves learning about different spiritual traditions, religions, and philosophies and finding the beauty in each one. Other interests include reading, watching Marvel movies and DC tv, and taking photographs. Mae also wrote a beautiful piece on my other blog, Lessons from the Monk I Married, as part of 365 Inspirations that I wrote there. It's about the Wake Up Festival she attended. Here it is: http://lessonsfromthemonkimarried.blogspot.com/2013/08/365-inspirations-241-wake-up-festival.html