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 29: The Healing Power of Mother Nature by Guest Blogger Priscilla Lowery

Dear fellow Earthlings,

Wow are we lucky to have Priscilla Lowery here to tell us about her deeply personal journey with Mother Nature. I can so relate and feel, being out here in Sequim, WA, how very needed Mother Nature is for us Earthlings right now! She has so many messages for us. Thank you for sharing your beautiful journey with us Priscilla.

Carl Jung wrote, “Every country or people has its own angel, just as the earth has a soul.” These words ring true with me and my words can never be enough to express the profound healing power of our Mother Earth, her plants, trees and animals––the mystery of it all and our interconnectedness of being here. I remember once being asked, who was my first teacher. I replied, “Nature. Nature was my first good and true teacher.” For me all of God is revealed in nature. To illustrate Nature’s healing power, I will share some of my personal story about what happened to me when I began to face and heal from early childhood abuse and neglect.

 In November of 2014, I experienced what psychologists call on the DMS5 a ‘Psycho-Spiritual Crisis’––yes, it is a real diagnosis. Later, I would learn, there are actually many spiritual names for such an event and that ancient tribal traditions all over the world understand and have healing rituals for receiving and guiding individuals through this kind of crisis. However, here in the West, we are ill-prepared and prone to distancing ourselves from those in crisis. It’s understandable, as we have been severed from such healing practices and lost touch with our indigenous selves. Even in my Quaker circles, where mystical experiences are often revered and used in teaching, it became quite apparent to me that it was unacceptable to have a modern-day mystical experience. After all, as one leader told me, when I tried to share, “We can’t trust everyone’s spiritual experience.” At that time, I only knew myself as a Quaker and practiced contemplative prayer. This was disheartening to me as I was already feeling very isolated. I had no ground to stand on, or so I thought.

That November of 2014, I was attending a Jungian Healing weekend sponsored by my Quaker brothers and sisters, whom I love dearly. While participating in a psycho-drama exercise, I relived a repressed childhood trauma. It was violent. Without knowing how I got there, I found myself lying on the floor and it felt as though I had been shocked from my feet up through my head. It was such an electrical force that my head splintered with a headache and my eyeballs and ears felt on fire. I became ice cold, my teeth chattered, and my body shook as though I was in shock––mostly likely I was. Words screamed from me that I did not know were stored deep inside by body. Later, I would describe the amazing feeling of having an enormous piece of me return—what I now know was a kind of spontaneous soul retrieval or what some may call a gift from The Holy Spirit–I called it a ‘ballroom for dancing!’ as the space was seemingly endless. After the experience, I began having odd physical symptoms and psychological/spiritual phenomena that led me into a state of crisis. I went to the only spiritual teachers I had access to––Quaker pastors and tried to tell them what had happened. They lovingly listened, but I could not make words describe the mythological experience. They didn’t understand and I began to feel very isolated, so I hid what was going on as best I could. It was as though I had gone somewhere amazing, had the lights turned on for just a second and upon return had no one to receive, guide, or believe me. Every self-identified and rigid construct that I had built to support my life crumbled away and I felt as though I was drowning. I would not wish anyone’s personal transformation to be so sudden and violent. The counselor/healer, who saved my life, called it, “A giant bitch-slap from the universe!”

 In the first two weeks after the event, I felt the most profound sense of oneness and love. I was inseparable from it and I went about telling people how loved they are. I wanted to touch everyone and tell them this truth. The love was so strong that nothing bothered me and for a time all judgement fell away. I could see the palpable suffering on people’s faces. I wanted them to know they can be healed. I really believed they could understand. In the first few days, several people saw light come out of my eyes and others began to cry when I talked to them, but I also made some people uncomfortable. I learned to stop. I could see my own crazy. In the coming months I found myself in a space of no time and I described time as having viscosity–a thing one could touch. As I began to come out of that liminal space, I had panic attacks and referred to myself as “she”. For a while, there seemed to be no “I”. This trauma-induced descent to soul was akin to a near-death experience and after an initial bliss state, I was plunged into dark despair and I began to disintegrate. I was riding a roller coaster of emotional upheaval that took me to the depth of a planned suicide where all I could think of was returning “HOME” to the greatest height of joy I had ever experienced. It was a state of nonattachment to this world that I cannot explain and there is no fear of death in that space. In the early months of this painful birth, I didn’t know how to find help. I spent a lot of time shaking. Even though I had a wonderful counselor, I couldn’t seem to get a handle on myself. I was at the mercy of an unseen process and was learning to surrender.

 On March 28th of 2015, I opened the door of my sons’ abandoned and uninsulated tree house. It was cradled in the arms of an eighty-year-old apple tree. Without thinking, I announced, “I am so moving in here!” That evening, I asked my family not to take it personally and assured them their needs would still be met. I lived in the treehouse for ninety days. During that year, I could not bear any news or any negativity—it physically hurt me. I wore headphones and sunglasses all the time to dampen the sensory overload of our modern world. I actually felt sound as pain in my body. Nature was my healing balm. In the treehouse, I studied spiritual texts, received guidance from spirits in dreams, and accessed the inner medicine that widened my Quaker circle to include Shamanic, Sufi, and Buddhist teachings. In a book by Dr. Stanislof Grof, I learned about the Spiritual Emergency Network (SEN). I was so desperate for someone to help and understand me that I contacted them. To my surprise, they replied and put me to work with a transpersonal psychologist, who spent many hours over several months interviewing me, teaching me, and “normalizing” my experience over Skype. He had done his PHD dissertation on Kundalini and explained that this is what had happened to me. It was comforting to find someone, in addition to my counselor, who understood. In one session, the doctor asked me, “How did you survive the initial onslaught of energy?” I laughed and told him that I returned to my first love and she saved me. “Who was that, he asked”. “Mother Nature,” I replied. I told him about how I would rise before dawn and drive to the hiking trail at the Trappist Abbey and walk four miles barefoot every morning, so that I could make myself stay and keep serving my family and students. I had a deep inner knowing that running away was not the answer. I told him how I would lay down on the ground, so as much of my body could touch the earth as possible. Laying on the earth and laying my body against trees would calm panic attacks that arose during the healing process. It seemed intuitive and natural to do this. I have since learned that shamans in some cultures would bury very ill people in the ground with only their faces showing in order for the person to receive as much as the earth’s healing power as possible.

 I told this psychologist about my fascination with what I called, “The Love Incarnate leaves” on the trees and how when I was really needing comfort, I would sit in the boughs of our Red Oak Tree in our back yard. I told him about how the plants don’t speak with words, but rather vibrations and that they love us and communicate vibrationally. I told him that I didn’t know how to fit into this world anymore and that I just really didn’t want to be here and wanted to go home. This doctor listened patiently and without judgement. He did not tell me I was crazy. What he told me was this, “My God, I’ve been teaching all my courses at Stanford out of order! Ecopsychology needs to be first.” He taught me to record my dreams and learn from them. Among the countless valuable teachings I received from him, he said, “You need to find your tribe.”

“Where are they?” I asked. He gave me several suggestions and assured me, “You’ll know them when you find them.” That’s what led me to my first Shamanic workshop with Hank Wesselman. When I first met Hank, I sidled up to him at one of the outdoor picnic tables in front of the lodge at Breitenbush Hot Springs. I remember nervously telling him about the spirits that had visited me. “Do you think I’m crazy?” I inquired. “You’re in the right place, kid,” was his affectionate reply. Little by little over these past few years I have been learning to live as Zen Master, Chozen Bays told me, “In the world with a big left foot and a small right foot.” I am so grateful for all of my teachers—from the Quaker and Sufi mystics to the Buddhist somatic meditation practices that continue to support my healing journey. I am just an ordinary person committed to freeing myself from my own faulty thinking. I do this daily through prayer, gratitude, and meditation like so many of you. As Earth Day approaches, I am most grateful for our healing earth––here to support each of us until the day our physical bodies return to her.

 Over those ninety days in the treehouse, I watched the emergence of buds on limbs turn into blossoms. I watched blossoms turn into tiny green apples. I harvested and ate those apples. During that time of living in the arms of the apple tree, I was replanted, went through growing pains and pruning, blossomed, and wondered what it meant to fruit as a human on this earth. My first counselor/healer once asked me, “Why are you here?” The answer was so very clear. “I am here to love well.”

 Being human isn’t easy and loving well is what each of us is ultimately called to do. We will make mistakes. We will say the wrong things and constantly fall into our pre-conditioned patterns that extend back through generations. We will even hurt people, including ourselves, but once we can see this, we can respond, change, and grow from the lessons. We are truly perfect in our imperfection. We are all on a journey to learn to fall in love with ourselves, not in an egotistical manner, but in the same way we view the wonders of creation because we are not separate. In the space of awareness, love is always here manifesting itself through Mother Nature. “The world has a soul,” and the great mystery is that we humans, too, are the manifestation of that soul’s love. Whether open to it or not, love is always here for us.

 The following poem during that time of living in the tree.

 Breath Brand New 
 4/25/15

Mystery is knowing I’ve been invited
To the Grove of Titans
Two Thousand year-old liminalists
Calling me to come

They live in secret
No physical map to take me over their threshold
So I must close my eyes to enter

Barefoot on forest duff
A quiet so still
An encasing silence
A doorway to the Eternal

Laying down
And gazing up at Sacred
Become entwined in the sensual boughs
Lifting me through descending mist
Surfacing, I take and hear my breath
Brand new
From the hands of Giant John the Baptists

 Priscilla Lowery lives outside Portland, Oregon and is a teacher specializing in dyslexia. She teaches students of all ages to read using a multisensory language program. When not working with her students, she enjoys backpacking, gardening, and writing poetry. She is currently studying somatic meditation and trauma healing techniques with the goal of helping others heal from trauma. She feels especially called to work with children. Priscilla decided to share this very personal story because she wants those in healing roles: pastors, teachers, and healers who are front-line responders to become more knowledgeable about the depth of the human psyche and its incredible capacity to heal with guidance and love.

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

Healing for the Earth, Day 24: The Ways That Programming Hinders Your Spiritual Awareness by Guest Blogger Madeline Hartman

Hello fellow Earthlings!

Today's guest blogger is Madeline Hartman. I'm so lucky to have her on my blog today to share her wisdom. I have attended many classes at her school, Psychic Awakenings,  including an 11-month Clairvoyant Awareness Program. I learned so many amazing tools in these classes that I use each day.  Here is her blog post for today:


The Ways That Programming Hinders Your Spiritual Awareness by Madeline Hartman

We are playing this earthly game to learn how to bring our spiritual awareness into our physical bodies. It's by being in your body that you'll be able to use your spiritual gifts to create a meaningful, satisfying life. 


One of the biggest hindrances to our spiritual growth is our "programming." Being programmed means accepting someone else's ideas and thoughts as your own without thinking about whether or not those ideas and thoughts are really true for you. When you are living a life based on programming, it will be very difficult for you to truly know yourself and your life purpose. Especially if you have programming that spirit is not real. Or if you believe that You the Spirit doesn't even exist. 


Sometimes you are aware of when someone is trying to program you. The most obvious example is when you are out shopping. You know that the salesperson is going to do his or her best to get you to purchase something. You usually already have your guard up to protect yourself from buying something that doesn't really meet your needs. 


There are also many times when you are not aware that you are being programmed. Have you ever done something and then wondered, "Why did I do that? I wasn't intending to do that?" Or "Why did I say that?" What probably happened is that someone jumped right into your head with their thoughts, and you believed the thoughts and acted on them. Thoughts are real and can be very powerful! 


During the course of being socialized into society as a young child, it is natural to accept all kinds of programming. This is all fine and good because we do need some concrete ideas about how to relate to the world around us. Some of this programming is beneficial. For example, we learn how to behave at home, at school and in public. But some of the programming is not so beneficial, especially when the family holds racist or bigoted beliefs. These beliefs are definitely not fact-based. Fortunately, most of us get to the age where we start to question our family's beliefs and programming that do not serve us as well. In the families with healthy dynamics, the children are allowed to develop their own theories based on their own experiences. In dysfunctional families, the children are not allowed to ask questions or to think for themselves. Some parents withhold love, or worse, actually punish their children for trying to individuate. 


The best way separate programming from that which is really true for you is to meditate. Sit in a straight back chair with your feet flat on the floor. Close your eyes and take a deep breath. Deliberately send down a strong energy grounding cord from your hips and plant it firmly at the center of the earth. Clear your space by spending at least ten minutes with the intention of releasing some programming down the grounding cord. 


The next step is to start looking at your beliefs. Think about one of them and ask yourself, "How does this belief serve me?" There are different ways to intuit the answer. It may be a thought that just pops up in your head. It may be a feeling of wellness in your heart. Or it may be a feeling of dissonance in your belly. If the belief does not resonate with you, then release it down your grounding cord. If it does resonate, then own it as your own information and keep it. Some of you may already be familiar with trusting your intuition. Others of you may need some practice. 


Meditation and spending quality time communicating with yourself are the essential keys to avoid living a life based on beliefs that don't help you to thrive. Your truths are not the thoughts in your head. Your truths are to be found by using your intuition to discover what resonates with your heart.

Madeline Hartman is the director and owner of Psychic Awakenings in Queen Anne, Seattle. Her extensive experience in both conventional and alternative counseling gives her a unique perspective and a wide range of skills with which she can support you. Since 1980 she has offered spiritual counseling in the form of readings, healings and psychic development classes. Her training began at the Berkeley Psychic Institute/Church of Divine Man where she was ordained as a spiritual minister. While at Berkeley she taught meditation and healing classes for five years. Madeline also holds a Masters in Social Work from the University of Washington.