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.