David's Desk 173 Climate Crisis

David's Desk is my opportunity to share thoughts and tools for the spiritual journey. These letters are my personal insights and opinions and do not necessarily reflect the sentiments or thoughts of any other person in Lorian or of Lorian as a whole. If you wish to share this blog post with others, please feel free to do so; however, the material is ©2021 by David Spangler.

I decided some years ago that in David’s Desk, I would not try to “chase the headlines,” as they say. I would not comment on current events in the world. This was not due to a lack of interest or concern but from feeling that there were already many skilled and knowledgeable people writing essays, blogs, reports, and commentaries calling our collective attention, almost daily, to the problems and challenges our world is facing. I felt that my best contribution would be to focus upon and write about the inner journey, as I say in my preamble above. That is where my strengths and my knowledge lie. Given that all things are interconnected, I felt that success in our spiritual lives could not help but reverberate outwards and benefit our positive efforts to meet these challenges. 

However, our spiritual, our psychological, and our physical lives are intimately interconnected within us and to the environments in which we live and work. If we lack wholeness within ourselves, this will affect the wholeness of our environment, and vice versa. We cannot separate ourselves from the Earth. We are, in a way, one entangled, interdependent, interconnected organism, a planetary life within which every person, every plant, every animal, every stone and river, mountain and ocean, prairie and desert has value and meaning.

I talk about this all the time in my classes, but I have not done so here in this monthly essay. Now, I am. Every voice is needed to shout out, cry out, sing out, say out that it is time to change how we live upon this world and with the life that surrounds us. The world needs us, Life needs us, WE all need us to say “Stop!” to the habits of “business as usual” that are feeding the intensity of the climate crisis. The fate of our civilization—perhaps even the fate of our species—hangs in the balance. 

One of my very good friends is Vance Martin, the President of WILD. He and his organization are doing important work on behalf of the Earth and the non-human species that share this planet with us; if you would like to know more, their website is www.wild.org. Vance and I met at Findhorn back in the Seventies, and I’ve watched his work with growing admiration as the years have passed.

Vance recently began a blog, to which you can subscribe by going to WILD’s website. I was moved by what he had to say about the climate crisis—he is definitely one of the experts in this field—and I received his permission to quote a relevant passage here:

“We will not escape the consequences of human actions…the natural world that supports us has laws not feelings…but there is much we can do to avoid catastrophe. Everything helps: nothing is too small. But some things matter more than others.

  1. Be politically active at every level—demand and create enlightened leadership.

  2. Be financially active at every level – demand and create responsible business and finances.

  3. Be a personal demonstration – make the changes in your own consumerism, travel and food that makes a difference.

“All of the above are important. But even more important is how you/we respond with each other to this crisis. Danger, emergency, and threats can drive us inwards, defending and isolating ourselves from others as a matter of what we perceive as self-preservation. That is not the answer and, in fact, will only worsen the negative impacts of our situation. This is the time to reach out, not in; to integrate, not polarize; to be sharing, not selfish; and wisely loving, not negatively suspicious. More than anything be hopeful, not hopeless. And don’t forget that your sense of humor is a great ally!  In short, be the best possible person you can be.”

To Vance’s list, I would add a fourth action that we can take:  Be spiritually, psychologically, and physically active to foster and maintain inner wholeness—acting as a whole person helps create wholeness in our world.  

Vance implies this, but I wish to make it explicit. The time is long passed when we can imagine a divide between being spiritually responsible for the state of one’s consciousness and being and being an activist taking responsibility for the state of one’s planet. The distinction and boundary between our inner and outer worlds simply is not there. We cannot foster a whole world if we are divided in ourselves. We cannot walk our spiritual journey divorced from the physical well-being and wholeness of each other and of our world. It is a shared path, a mutually dependent path.

From this perspective, the climate crisis can be seen as involving both the outer climate of the planet and the inner climate of our minds and hearts. As wildfires are raging in the world, so also anger and hatred are raging in our inner lives. As floods are swamping the land, so also fear swamps our inner stability. It’s not a matter of dealing with one or the other but rising to deal with both. The wholeness of the world is not divided between human and non-human, organic and inorganic, the spiritual and the material; it is one world sharing one future.

We may not know what to do to help with the outer manifestations of the climate crisis, though there are certainly many sources now available to give us that information, such as Vance has done in his blog and continues to do through WILD. One of the newest, and to my mind, one of the best, is Paul Hawken’s new book, Regeneration. It is a clear statement of practical actions anyone can take to, in the subtitle of the book, “end the climate crisis in one generation.”

But as Paul and many others, like Vance and like I am doing here, are pointing out, what we are facing is as much a crisis of consciousness as of climate. It is a crisis of who we believe we are, a crisis of changing to be the kind of humanity the planet needs us to become. In this area where we face the inner manifestations of the climate crisis, none of us is powerless. Here we can do something to learn, to grow, to change. In the process, we also discover how to act in ways that will build a new world with a new way of being human within it.

I want to close this essay with some thoughts shared with me by another friend, Patrick S. Wolfe, a writer living in Canada.  Over the years, he has taken part in several of my online classes and forums, and he always has good, wise thoughts to contribute. After taking part in a recent online forum focusing on how we can meet the future, he sent me these comments in an email. I could not have said this better.

“May all who can, open to the qualities of fiery hope, peace, joy, and love, and to the potential and energy of the new civilization unfolding around us. May love, not fear, hope, not despair, joy, not distress, compassion, not anger or hate, enfold each of us in safety, protection, and courage. May we have the will to do what is available to us to bring the new civilization into being. May my strength, my calm, my courage, my joy, my love empower at least one other person to join in this enterprise and become a source of vision and new life.

Be peacefully urgent and aware, open to engage with love and power with what the world brings to your doorstep.”

Standing and Walking in Our Sovereignty Wherever We Are

Ed, my husband, and I met David and Julie Spangler shortly after 9/11. Though we live on opposite sides of the country, David and Julie in Washington, and I in Massachusetts, the sense of being right with them in thought and heart deepened over the years as I corresponded with David and got involved in online Lorian classes. Ed and I subscribed to Views from the Borderland from its start and helped to organize an Incarnational Spirituality study group in our area.

To go back a step, I was baptized and confirmed in the Episcopal Church but was certain God was too vast to be confined to a church or any religion for that matter. I was also certain one could talk with rocks, plants and rivers and if one was still enough could hear the stars singing. When I was 22—the year I met Ed—the work of Rudolf Steiner also came my way. I was overjoyed to read about many other dimensions reaching beyond religious experience as I had heard it defined, beyond the reach of conventional historical thinking as it was then expressed, and out beyond the beauty, vigor and resonance of the natural world.  

While Steiner took me, and Ed also, into wonder and mystery without end—and I still read Steiner with amazement and gladness—our introduction to Incarnational Spirituality brought three things home to us:

1. The first was how important the horizontal dimension of spirituality is. Prior to Incarnational Spirituality Ed’s and my focus was far more on the vertical, primarily on the divine as being above and in many instances, beyond us. I realized the overall standpoint I had lived in, rather unconsciously for most of my life was that I, as a human being, was inferior to the divine. Yes, the divine was in the world but still it was, basically, above me. And a worthy goal in life was to attain, by way of study, exercises and meditations, to greater awareness of this fact. Some teachers said it could take many life-times to enter into a closer relationship with the spiritual dimensions. Incarnational Spirituality, however, helped to confirm my own sense that these dimensions are right here, all around, not up in the clouds or in some distant time.

2. Though Steiner fleshed out my awareness of the spiritual worlds—and this continues to be an ongoing process—Incarnational Spirituality has taken this awareness a step further. It actually took a while for me to recognize a step was being taken and, though it may sound like a small step, it was a big one. It consisted of this: not only were my interactions with the spiritual worlds real and important, they are no big deal. Such interactions included my understanding from an early age that death does not mean the end of life; being aware of the so-called dead is no big deal. Anyone can sense them, may in fact be sensing dear departed souls, strangers also, without being fully conscious of it. Such Spiritual experiences are available to all of us regardless of age, background, religious upbringing, education, race or gender. In the physical world we may feel or find ourselves outwardly limited by such factors but in the subtle realms we are all souls, free spirits. 

3. This, in turn, brought me very naturally into an appreciation of two words that are central to Incarnational Spirituality: Self-Light and Sovereignty. I say “very naturally” because I often saw the light in people’s eyes but hadn’t given thought to this light as also being within myself. And suddenly I knew I could see it because it is also in me. Even more importantly, it was not only visible in the eyes of others, it is within the whole human being. “Sovereignty” became the word expressing this radiance, on many levels: physical, mental, emotional, psychic. It is also the word that, for me, best defines the connection of our innermost, our soul, to our physical body.

These three learnings from Incarnational Spirituality--the importance of the horizontal dimension of spirituality, the no-big-dealness of spirituality, and recognizing and saluting the self -light and sovereignty within oneself and others–were of immense help to Ed and myself. They encouraged us to know ourselves as sources of light and active participants in both the obviously tangible visible world and less obviously visible subtle worlds. And they found practical expression when Ed and I had to face the final challenge of our lives together.

In 2008, on his 64th birthday, Ed was diagnosed with Parkinson’s Disease. The challenges that followed as the disease progressed were at first few and far between, then there were more of them, then they became more complicated, then they began to accelerate at a frightening pace. Ed died of complications of Late Stage Parkinson’s and COVID April 19, 2020. Throughout our lives—we were for married 52 years—and particularly during our journey with Parkinson’s, Ed and I observed a daily practice that included giving thanks for the gift of being incarnated and for the presence of the ordinary-extraordinary spiritual worlds we are a part of. We knew our actions in and through life, together as partners and separately in our own work were always clearer, and more fluid and joyous when we acknowledged and honored the interweaving of both even if we couldn’t see or understand what was going on.

The need to acknowledge this interweaving became more acute as the Parkinson’s intensified and the outcome, I must add, was an intensified awareness of several things. 

First, the closeness of help in the horizontal dimensions—for example, the exact “right” people appearing at the exact “right” moments to assist us, as if directed our way by an invisible choreographer. Second—and this awareness was painful rather than joyous—we both knew Ed was on his way out about eight months before he passed over. We knew this from within as Ed lost his ability to write, type, cut his food, drive, move without freezing up, dress, remember names and dates, think clearly, and more.  Yes, his body was failing and his brain was sinking into dementia, but his soul was still present. And those who loved and awaited him on the other side—his mother especially—were also, I realized dimly, then more vividly later, very present for him.

It’s my impression we may think we think in our brains, and Parkinson’s had clearly scrambled up plenty of things in Ed’s brain, but our true thinking to which our soul and consciousness are connected arises elsewhere in us, in our heart area, the center of our sovereignty. And through love we can see when the thoughts that arise, or which we invite or allow into our hearts, are light or dark, and act accordingly.

Fortunately, Ed and I had always talked together not only brain to brain but heart to heart and when Ed’s physical brain began to go off the rails I listened closely for and spoke to his heart.  In this way I sensed when he passed through times of regret in regards to the incarnation he was ending, and grief that he was coming to its end. (I went through them too.) Moreover, I could sense where he was even when I was not near him physically, in the very same way it is possible to sense the soul moods and trails of the so-called dead on the other side. 

This last point—that we can know how those we love are even when we are not with them in body—made it possible for me to be with Ed after he was admitted to the hospital, where our daughters and I couldn’t go because of the COVID lock down. So it happened that during Ed’s last week when I got the inner impression he was in need of inner help I was able to offer that by standing in my sovereignty and addressing Ed in his sovereignty. I will close this account with a description of that experience, taken from my book, Unraveling>Reweaving. Passing Through and Beyond Parkinson’s. I hope my  observations here and in the book might be of help to others dealing with similar challenges. How we are with those who are dying and have died seems more important now than ever. It’s my impression many of the so-called dead want to continue to connect and to work with us now during these crucial times.

Before sharing the account from my book I wish to express heart-felt thanks to David Spangler and Incarnational Spirituality for showing Ed and me the more of who we are and can be, and how deeply the physical and the spiritual can be interwoven in us when, and as, we continue to incarnate. That interweaving –what it is like and what it can be--IS the big deal!

*********

It came to me early one morning before the COVID spiraled downwards that Ed needed some inner assistance. There was this feeling of inner “stuck-ness” that reminded me of  the physical “stuck-ness” Ed had displayed in March when he first went to the hospital ER and I knew I’d reached the end of being able to care for him physically…

I used a meditation Ed and I had done. The core of this meditation is called The Standing Exercise.

To describe roughly what I did: I sat in the chair I always used during the morning time imagining Ed, in his chair to my right. After being quiet for a few minutes I stood, eyes closed, inwardly seeing Ed also rising to stand beside me. 

We were facing south. I spoke aloud, offering thanks first for our physical bodies and the fact that we could stand upright. Then thanks for the fact that Ed and I had met and shared so many years together. Followed by thanks for our families, our parents and brothers, our children, their children, close friends, colleagues, and others, all also standing. 

Then Ed and I turned, facing west, eyes still closed. Still speaking aloud, I offered thanks for the Earth, its beauty and its bounty, the seasons, the mineral, plant and animal kingdoms, the winds, waters, and more. 

Next we faced north and I gave thanks for the times into which we had incarnated and historical highlights and challenges that came to mind. These particular thanks –ending with thanks for COVID and PD—were harder for me to express. I ended that list with a quote I’d found in one of Brian Doyle’s books: 

We are part of a Mystery we do not understand and we are grateful. 

Then we turned and faced east. I got the strong inner impression of a path opening up before us. We’d hiked together for years, up and down many mountains in different parts of the United States and abroad, but I knew this path was just for Ed. It was truly time for us to part. First I expressed thanks for the sun, the moon, the stars and the many celestial beings around and out there overseeing this path. Then, without looking in Ed’s direction, keeping my eyes on this path, I thanked Ed again, said I looked forward to meeting with him again, and wished him Godspeed on his journey.

He moved forwards. I saw his back, then I couldn’t see him anymore. 

(p.67-68)

David's Desk 172 Forgiveness

David's Desk is my opportunity to share thoughts and tools for the spiritual journey. These letters are my personal insights and opinions and do not necessarily reflect the sentiments or thoughts of any other person in Lorian or of Lorian as a whole. If you wish to share this blog post with others, please feel free to do so; however, the material is ©2021 by David Spangler.

This month, I feel a desire to share an exercise that I first presented in a recent online forum for people who subscribe to my journal, Views from the Borderland. The topic under discussion was forgiveness, and one of my non-physical, “subtle” colleagues suggested this exercise.

What has prompted me to share it was a news report stating that airlines had reported nearly 3500 incidents of “air-rage” and “unruly passengers” since the beginning of this year. I have certainly watched with incredulity on evening news television shows recent episodes of passengers assaulting each other and attacking flight attendants. One segment showed flight attendants receiving martial arts training for their own protection and for subduing violent passengers. The “Friendly Skies” have definitely become unfriendly.

Much of this air-rage violence has escalated since the pandemic hit and has focused around mask-wearing protocols. At the same time, on the ground, road rage incidents have increased as well. “The number of people shot and killed or wounded in road rage shootings nearly doubled…from a monthly average of 22 deaths and injuries from June 2016 through May 2020 to a monthly average of 42 deaths and injuries between June 2020 and May 2021,” according to the organization, Everytown For Gun Safety.

Obviously, we are living in angry times, which is evidenced daily on the news in many other ways than simply incidents of rage in airplanes or on the highways. It’s as if people are living with hair-trigger emotions that are easily upset, leading to one kind of confrontation or another. What is striking is that in so many cases, the cause of the angry flair-up was something relatively trivial, something that might have easily been overlooked or forgiven in pre-pandemic times. But now, forgiveness seems to be becoming a forgotten tool in our civil and social toolkit.

The following exercise may not solve the problem of a pandemic of rage moving through society, but it can remind us of what we are capable of. It can remind us of the tool of forgiveness, which can be used for ourselves, for others, and for humanity as a whole. This exercise, as well as any others we may practice, can strengthen our “forgiveness-muscles.” This helps the calming energy of forgiveness to be our first response, rather than the heat of anger.

Here it is:

–Stand in your Sovereignty, honoring your sacredness.

–Forgive yourself. For actions done or left undone; for any thoughts and feelings and the subtle energies they create, for anything that may have left wholeness less manifest in the world, forgive yourself. Forgive yourself so that you may move forward in the wholeness and freedom that allows your sacredness to manifest.

–Forgive others. For any actions done or left undone; for any thoughts, feelings, and the subtle energies they create, that has impacted you and left you feeling less whole, forgive others. Forgive others so that you and they may move forward in the wholeness and freedom that allows sacredness to manifest.

–Forgive humanity. For all actions done or left undone, and for the motivations, thoughts, feelings, and subtle energies that have impacted the world that all humans and all life share and left the world less whole, forgive humanity. Forgive humanity so that you and all human beings may move forward in the wholeness and freedom that allows sacredness and life to manifest.

–May Grace and Forgiveness open the hearts of all, that love may heal and wholeness be restored in all beings upon all the world.

–In the spirit of this forgiveness and love, stand in your Sovereignty, and then move out into your world as a presence of wholeness.

During that same Subscribers’ Forum for my journal, some of the participants offered links to websites on forgiveness that they had found helpful. I’d like to share them here as well, as they offer other exercises and practices working towards the same end. It’s good to have choices to find what works best for you.

The first is to the Midwest Institute for Forgiveness Training: https://www.forgivenesstraining.com/

The second is to the International Forgiveness Institute: https://internationalforgiveness.com/

Certainly, you can find your own sources on the Internet and elsewhere that can give good advice about forgiveness and how to achieve it. The best source always, though, is in your own heart and in the love you bring into the world.

People are hurting right now, and this hurt often turns into anger that can lash out at others for the most minor of reasons. You may be hurting, too. But it doesn’t have to be this way. However we do so, it’s time to make use of our inner tools to bring calm and healing to our world, and among these, the spirit of forgiveness is perhaps the most needed. It can keep momentary, tiny embers of irritation from flaring up into hurtful fires of rage.

Subtle Incarnation

One of the more provocative and interesting statements to come out of the inner incarnational school of spirituality as described by David Spangler is, "The problem with humanity is not that you are too incarnated but that you are not incarnated enough.

When I first heard this statement, part of me thought, Oh god, as if I didn't already have enough problems. Now I'm being asked to take on even more of the physical world and its burdens. It’s an odd statement in light of the many religious world views that warn about being too identified with the world; there’s a part of ourselves that wants to be free of the restrictions of physicality. In the words of the Christian hymn,

This world is not my home I'm just passing through
my treasures are laid up somewhere beyond the blue
the angels beckon me from Heaven's open door
and I can't feel at home in this world anymore.

So, on the one hand, we have many voices advising us to follow a spiritual practice that leads us away from identification with the earth through transcendental meditations, aesthetic practice, self-sacrifice, elimination of ego and the like. On the other hand, we have this the contrary advice to incarnate more deeply into the world.

With this prologue, I would like to tell a story.

A couple of years ago, my wife Freya and I traveled to the Findhorn community in Scotland to present a program and took the opportunity to travel around Scotland and parts of the UK, visiting Stonehenge and other ancient and historical sites like those found in Glastonbury.

If you’re familiar with the Sidhe deck for which I’m the artist, I have an interest in faerie traditions and in connecting with this realm. One of the more fascinating characters in this tradition is Reverend Robert Kirk who lived in Aberfoyle, England from 1644 to 1692. He was a minister, Gaelic scholar and folklorist, best known for The Secret Commonwealth, a treatise on fairy folklore which was first published in 1815. He was said to have inappropriately revealed secrets of the "Good People" and as a consequence was required to leave humanity and live in the "Hollow Hills" with the Sidhe.  He reportedly attended his own funeral, told of his fate, and, according to legend, is not the true resident of his tomb. He’s considered a mediator by some between the worlds of faerie and humanity.

John Matthews has published this story in a delightful illustrated book called The Secret Life of Elves and Faeries: The Private Journal of Robert Kirk and RJ Stewart has also written of him in his book Robert Kirk: Walker Between the Worlds. 

Being familiar with the lore surrounding Robert Kirk, Freya and I visited Aberfoyle. There’s an old cemetery which surrounds the ruins of his small stone church, and we took some time finding the good reverend's marker and investigating the grounds. We then set off hiking to nearby Doon Hill, on which Robert Kirk was said to walk frequently and have his encounters with the Sidhe. Following the well-worn path, we eventually arrived at the top of the hill, on which many sojourners had left their tokens of respect–colored ribbons, handwritten notes, and talismans of all sorts adorned a large oak and many of the smaller trees and bushes in the area.

After spending a half hour or so attuning to the area, we once again set off on the path which led to Fairy Knob, another hill nearby, and eventually back to the village of Aberfoyle. Upon arrival at the Knob, we found this area quite wild and obviously much less frequented. We went off trail for a bit, crashing through the bushes to get to the very top. After a time of enjoying the land, we found our way back to the trail.

Now, obviously, one of the reasons pilgrims visit an area like this is to pay homage to the tradition. In addition, if we're honest with ourselves, we probably also want to have an "otherworld" experience of some type which verifies our interest in the phenomena–something which triggers the numinous in us. Many of the sites we had visited had offered just such rewards, but as for Aberfoyle–nothing!

I found this baffling and a little irritating since this was supposed to be the epicenter of Faerie magic and I, after all, was a practitioner. But one cannot force subtle perception, so after reluctantly accepting the situation, we headed down the hill and back to the road which lead to the village.

As we were walking I began wondering about the connection between the work with the Sidhe and Incarnational Spirituality.

For some reason, I decided to do an exercise David had taught in one of his classes–or at least my simplified variation of what I remembered of the exercise. Walking along the trail I began to imaginally expand my sense of the space I occupied. I pictured a transparent bubble around myself and  felt into that space as if I had sight or hearing or touch receptors within the bubble.

Almost instantly, I found myself in connection with a nature being of some kind walking along beside me. If pressed, I suppose it could be called a faun, but there was not a detailed sense of shape. Certainly the presence was unmistakable–like someone entering a room in which you are working. 

"Where have you been all this time!" I blurted out. This perhaps was not the most polite way to greet this companion, but as I mentioned, I was a bit irritated. Now that we were leaving the area and the party was presumably over, he chose now to show up?

"I have been here all along," he said, "but you have been so focused on your constricted goals and constrained perceptions you have not been aware of me.”

I had a sense that I had been walking with blinders on and looking down at my feet the whole time.

He then surprised me further by launching into a commentary on Incarnational Spirituality. He seemed quite familiar with the ideas. He said that to incarnate fully meant to him to be increasingly aware of the larger subtle ecology in which one operates and the myriad of connections which are natural to being woven into the world. In other words, to be more fully incarnated did not mean to be more narrowly focused on the physical earth and the immediate senses but to be widely open to the energetic environment and the inhabitants within those realms. At the heart of what he was saying was a vision of a way of being in the world that was in touch with the physical world but also the life and subtle forces that animate the world.

About this time, we were approaching the narrow paved path that lead along a stream and back toward a bridge into the village. He made it clear that the paved path was the edge of his territory and he could not (or would not) go past this point. I thanked him for his arrival and insights and offered him my blessing in return.

I suppose a lot more could be said about what it means to be fully incarnated. Certainly, love is at its heart, and blessing is a fundamental practice. But for me, it includes honing my subtle perceptions in whatever way I can–working with the Sidhe, with the life of nature, with techno-elementals, with under-buddies, with the great Devas, with Souls of countries and continents, and with whatever else presents itself. This is all part of the great discovery of a deeper incarnation. I try to imagine and engage the unseen life that dances just at the edge of my everyday perception, ready to engage with me, and to delight with me in the joys of earthly life.

David's Desk 171 Joy Mining

David's Desk is my opportunity to share thoughts and tools for the spiritual journey. These letters are my personal insights and opinions and do not necessarily reflect the sentiments or thoughts of any other person in Lorian or of Lorian as a whole. If you wish to share this blog post with others, please feel free to do so; however, the material is ©2021 by David Spangler.

For many of us, August is traditionally the month of summer vacations, a time of recreation and happy activities. This makes this an ideal month to explore what I call “joy mining.”

In the realms of spirit, joy is more than just a feeling of happiness. When we hold joy in our hearts and minds, letting it permeate us, it heightens our spiritual energy, opening the door to a wider flow of spirit from us into the world around us. But can we summon joy when we want to? For many people, joy is a result of something good happening. Absent that good event, where does the joy come from?

There is a simple practice that I call "joy mining." Think of yourself as deliberately looking for "nuggets" of joy in your daily affairs and drawing their energy into yourself, depositing them in an inner "bank account." To do this, you need to realize that joy doesn't have to be a dramatic experience of ecstasy and pleasure. It can be very simple, a moment of wonder, a moment of feeling whole. What you are looking for are moments that hold the potential of heightening your felt sense of life. The trick is to make a habit of noticing and acknowledging them so that they become part of your psychological and spiritual “muscle memory.”

What might constitute of "nugget" of joy? It could be anything that in the moment gives you an uplifting feeling or attunes you to the spaciousness and wonder of life. It could be the pleasure of a good cup of coffee on a cold morning. It could be a smile from a friend. It could be seeing the blue of a clear sky or hearing the soothing sound of rain on the roof. It could be a song you hear, a funny remark, a bite of something delicious. Our senses are designed to connect us with pleasure in the world around us; when we acknowledge a moment of pleasure, we discover a nugget of joy. It may not be the joy of winning a lottery of thousands of dollars or the joy of getting married, but it's a nugget of joy nonetheless. The more we acknowledge and collect them, the more they shape and fill our life’s energy, becoming like a warmth we can send out into the world around us.

There are challenges. One is that we mentally establish a threshold of delight that has to be crossed before we will recognize the presence of joy. This is like saying that bits of gold dust are beneath our notice and that all we'll mine are fist-size hunks of gold. Yet as many a wealthy miner has discovered, those little bits of gold dust can add up to a fortune.

Another challenge is that we feel guilty. How can we justify being joyful when so many in the world are suffering? Denying joy, though, or refusing to acknowledge its presence in our lives, doesn’t alleviate suffering. It may only add to it. I’m sure we’ve all experienced the uplifting and empowering effect being with a truly joyous person can have on us, giving us renewed energy and strength to meet our challenges. The issue is not one of denying joy to ourselves but one of not hoarding it, feeling that it’s our right, that it’s our joy not to be shared. That attitude turns joy into lead, like a reverse Philosopher’s Stone

The heart of Joy Mining is paying attention to moments of happiness, lightness, pleasure, and all-around ok-ness when they happen to you, even if they seem like small pleasures indeed. By paying attention, you are sensitizing yourself to this heightening, expansive energy. Further, it helps you realize that for you to pass on joy into the world, you don't have to be in a crazy state of ecstatic happiness yourself, though I can say from my own experience that as you practice this, the sense of being in the midst of joy gets progressively stronger until it can truly lead to moments of bliss and ecstasy in the midst of ordinary life.

The exercise is very simple. The moment you feel pleased by something or have a sense of happiness about something you experience, pause for a moment and "collect" it. You do this by acknowledging the moment and honoring its felt sense. Feel this joy in your body, in your heart, in your mind. Feel yourself filled with it and surrounded by it. Feel it opening you to the grace and wonder of the universe. Say to yourself something like, "This is a nugget of joy. In this moment, I am touching joy. Let it become part of me that it becomes a power within me shaping my life. May this joy empower me to radiate it onward and outward to my world." Then give a silent appreciation for the moment. Gratitude and joy go hand in hand.

May your summertime this month bring you many mining opportunities, and may your accumulation of joy grow in blessing to you and to your world.


How to Be Here: Lessons in Incarnation

1.  Coin of the Realm

I remember being born.  

How this is possible, I am not sure, but indeed I do have a vivid and visceral memory of my arrival, and perhaps more significantly, a memory of my conscious process as I assumed physical form. At that moment, as I balanced on the threshold of incarnation, I experienced complete freedom of choice–to be or not to be, you might say. And I was conflicted. To put it bluntly, I was not at all sure I wanted this. At least not at first. I felt ambivalent about transitioning from a form of awareness that held me in closeness with source and filled with a sense of unconditional love. 

As I wavered on the edge of entry, two or three distinct presences stood with me, encouraging but not directing me. These felt to be family of a sort–familiar, loving and trusted, but certainly not physical or even identifiable in any anthropomorphic form. They are best described as fields of energy containing consciousness, extensions of something more, with an ability to connect directly and intelligently with me. Our interaction revolved around my 11th hour hesitation to incarnate, and gentle review of how I got to this point, with loving reminders of what my decision-making process had been.   

Ultimately, I did choose to come into my body, as an act of love and a means of participation in this earthly possibility. It was a deliberate and conscious choice, one that I made without total assuredness, but with certain purpose to share and serve.

Having decided to take the leap, I quickly landed in a hospital delivery room. It seems as soon as I made the free choice of physical incarnation, then I was suddenly here, instantaneously, and not wherever my consciousness was before. And then, in short order, a clear sense of bewilderment washed over me, incomprehension, an inability to process, a kind of shock. I suppose there was a sort of physical shock, but that is not what I recall; rather, I remember the profound disorientation of time and space, a sudden feeling of confinement, a sense of being contained in some fashion that was not what I was used to, a kind of narrowing or contraction of reach in some way. I did not doubt my decision; I was simply overwhelmed by it.

My mother was unconscious, having been heavily sedated. The doctor was disinterested in me, thoroughly preoccupied with his clinical routine. I emerged into a room of pale green tile walls and hard surfaces, and it seemed gray in its lighting, not nearly the brilliance I was used to. As I experienced the sudden shift in perspective from wider awareness to the subjective view of this life, I was somewhat surprised that there was no welcoming committee! I remember feeling alone, but even more strongly I remember the feeling-sense of displacement, a kind of surprise that is nearly indescribable. I simply could not understand this new environment. 

And then it happened: my first lesson in how to be here. Within 10 minutes, perhaps sooner, for it is hard to gauge time in this memory, I had my first experience of human engagement—and love. It came in the form of a nurse I was handed off to, who held me and looked into my eyes and lovingly welcomed me with personal connection as she cleaned and swaddled this newborn, surely just one of hundreds of infants she tended to in this way.

I remember this first experience of connection with tender appreciation. It was a reassuring and much valued introduction to the key ingredient in navigating incarnation: loving engagement with others. As she shared her inner radiance and love with me, this nurse showed me where to find the light I was used to and was missing as I first arrived. She gave me my bearings.  

Alas, recalling my pre-birth consciousness has also come with some baggage: I have struggled at times with longing for what I remember—wanting to recapture the feeling-sense of unconditional love and comfort and expansion I experienced in that place of non-physical awareness. And so, from an early age, I have been motivated to figure out how to be here, and how to do it fully, without being distracted from living by the draw of memory. Mine has been an explorer’s journey of finding “home” in being human, and that is very much a practice of emergence and integration, merging memory and presence, here and now, and unfolding of self through incarnation. Sharing my discoveries is itself an example of incarnational spirituality: as we each share our own experience and insight, we open our hearts and engage each other, inviting collaboration in building incarnation for each of us.  

Incarnational Lesson One: Love is coin of the realm, the medium of exchange between souls, the common currency of nonphysical and physical being. It is the bridge that connects us to our full selves and to others, the medium of relationship, and ultimately what enables us to integrate fully as incarnate spiritual beings. It is simple, really, but often we forget how simple it is: heart to heart acknowledgement. I see you. I honor you. I love you. I join you.

2.  What’s This All About and What Am I Doing Here?

My recollection of my non-physical self, my origin, and my choice for birth was my initial, and a greatly formative, life experience. The memory is clear and compelling and has shaped my approach to and understanding of life and incarnation and purpose. But this is not to say I did not have to confront all the same questions we humans ask ourselves across a lifetime as we try to make sense of this embodiment: Who am I? Why am I here? What do I bring? How may I share?  Actually, I suspect the memory made me more preoccupied with these questions and finding the answers.

My own experience and work with others shows me consistently and convincingly that we are spiritual beings of great prospect, and that the answers to these questions lie in believing the truth of our selves—who we each are as unique and creative individuals, recognizing the possibilities of incarnation and seizing those opportunities by taking action, and  by sharing of ourselves.  

The starting point: You’ve got to be you.  

You are the only you; a perfect manifestation of physical form designed to enable you to express your truth and the uniqueness of your spirit, insight, and creativity. A healthy embrace of your self and the feeling-sense of your identity is the foundation for all you can and will do in this lifetime—for yourself and for others.  

When you find and trust the certainty of your self–the one you know is you, that voice you recognize, then anything is possible. This is when you light up, when you feel motivation and excitement and anticipation and enthusiasm and joy. This is when the pieces fall into place.

So, how and where do we access this essential self that is our core generator?  

Through engagement—with self, with others, and with the inner and outer worlds.

Children, especially young children, display their self-light easily and can remind us of our own light. Think of that luminous quality you see in a young child's face–what we might call innocence. It is actually self-light, soul shining forth, still close to source and as yet unencumbered.  

I am reminded of a bit of self discovery and soul emergence my granddaughter displayed at age 5. She is a child of great imagination and equally grand intellect, not altogether comfortable with other people yet, but very fond of her menagerie of stuffed animals and imaginary friends. Her delight in and appreciation of animals is clearly an important part of her essential uniqueness.

She and her family were invited to another child’s birthday party. She was shy about engaging with too many others, but she was thrilled to discover their hosts had two dogs—real live ones! She was captivated by these pets and spent two hours engaging with them, touching, talking, and playing, truly transfixed, oblivious of the surrounding party events. My daughter, quite struck by the peace and comfort and joy that came over this child as she played with the dogs, described it thus: “It was as if I was watching her soul unfurl.” And indeed, she was—a view of emergence captured! What a beautiful way to describe the dynamic and light of self-alignment!

It was clear in watching my granddaughter that multiple incarnational developments were unfolding: her connection with the animals brought her into her self, and as her own light emerged, she radiated in a way that began to touch others; a kind of collective generative process was set into motion. All of this was made possible by the initial action by her parents of social engagement, which presented the child with a new environment and the novel opportunity to meet her live animal friends. Each of these elements were vital in setting the stage for her unfurling, and yet each so commonplace we might overlook and take for granted the very stuff of incarnational development and how it happens: connection, community, mutual support, unexpected discovery and consequent growth and delight.

This is what incarnation is about, how it is done: Being here, being together, creating together.

Just like my granddaughter, we each have our own direct connection to our “original self,” the part of us that is an extension from the creative, generative force or source, the oneness; the part that decided to incarnate and grow in new and as yet unrealized ways through incarnation. By making and taking opportunities to relate with people and environments, we provide our soul with (and support others’) needed conditions for “unfurling.” And this is a glorious thing.

As we each find our authentic self and discover and connect to the feeling sense of love there, we may then look outward and extend and express our unique identities from that place of knowing. This is a blessing for all of us.

Incarnational Lesson Two: I can only be me, and you can only be you and not who anyone else is or others wish us to be. And this is good, for we each bring something essential to the world that only we can bring. You are matchless, one-of-a-kind, and your individuality and unique gifts and insight are your great asset—and ours. Our interconnection supports our own self discovery and growth. Know thyself. You are a blessing. Discover your self. Be true to your self.

3.  Spread Your Self Around

As a person with awareness of nonphysical, nonlinear, and unseen realms which hold great attraction, I have thought much about why to be here, physically incarnate, rather than in the nonphysical dimensions. I have found the answer lies in the creative possibility of life: a chance to make something new as we connect with this realm and with each other. As humans, we are in an exciting position to shape change and form through love. We are each here as a blessing, as an extension of the sacred, of source, embodied to create and bring beauty and growth in the world, each in our own unique ways, supported by the essence of self; to grow ourselves and this world in the spirit of love.

But to exercise our creative options we must take action to share our selves in some way. 

The act of sharing your self is as simple as smiling, and easier and more important than you may realize. I am always impressed that just about everyone is willing to engage if you smile and engage first. We are beings with a desire to connect and to share. It is one of our best and distinguishing traits, essential to setting the stage for creative collaboration. 

There is pure pleasure in engaging with another person in even the most modest contact: it lights up the circuits of the brain and heart, it makes us feel fuller, more connected to something bigger than us, more whole. It instills faith and hope, promotes smiling, and is downright therapeutic. 

I spent part of my childhood in France, where it was (and still is) the custom upon entering a shop to say hello and exchange greetings, no matter who you are, and if you don’t it is considered rude. In Provence, it is typical when passing another person on the street to say “Bonjour” just because you are passing them, not because you know them. Imagine doing that the next time you walk down a street! It is so important we maintain these forms of contact, even as we become ever more focused on our digital devices, more isolated from each other, and are challenged to navigate divisive and sometimes combative social and political currents. Greeting is such a simple gesture—with such great impact: a greeting makes a connection both consciously with the mind and voice, face and body language, but it is more; it is an initial extension of self, and an acknowledgment to another of the sovereignty of his or her self. It is a connection of heart and soul. And think about this—it is much easier to greet with a smile than to greet without smiling (even with a mask on!) From this momentary contact, it comes naturally to then expand simple human connection.

Engagement–with others, with community, with environment–is about sharing the love and light of your soul as expressed through your self. I like to think of it as personal incarnational outreach. It can be as simple as the hello on the street or can rise to level of a calling. Or perhaps saying hello is a calling.  

We live in a complex system, one in which ego has gained a strong foothold at the expense of true (soul) identity and wholeness. There are many among us who have lost their sense of personal worth, who have not been encouraged, indeed who have suffered sure and often intentional depreciation. This mass devaluation of individual value is our collective loss for it robs us of our human capital: the talents and generative potential of those who feel lost, insecure and afraid to stand in their uniqueness and full expression of self. We are in dire need of incarnational outreach services! Your life force, your heart field, your love offers reassurance and support—share it as often as you can. 

If love is the medium of creation, then relationship is what shapes it into form. As a practice, incarnational spirituality invites us to help others emerge. As I appreciate another, I help him remember and self identify and express and respond, and in that course we each take another step into the fullness of our own incarnations and possibility. There is a kind of creative combustion that happens as we kindle the sacred flame within each other through the simple act of engagement.

I cannot think of a better example of how this works than to look to our families and our roles as parents, children and siblings. Families are holistic systems–microcosmic versions of the matrix of larger systems of community, nation, world, and universe, subject to the same developmental dynamics. A look at how we stand and create and engage and integrate within our families really brings home how the incarnational process works. 

It is through our families that we begin to learn the meaning of self and identity. Family is most often our initial community experience and it is here that we first learn to see others and strive to be seen. It offers our first experiences with bonding and affection, safety and security, acceptance and love. Here we begin to learn about connection and participation and boundaries and how to negotiate all of this. And all the while we are still trying to come to understand our bodies and emotions and physical experience. Wow! What a lot going on! Family provides us with some of the most indescribably joyful and poignantly painful possibilities of life. 

Family introduces us to the ups and downs of being human together. It is a veritable incarnational laboratory!

Given this context, good parenting is one of the most important acts of incarnational service we can offer. It can be harmful when family fails to provide the foundation we each need to emerge in healthy full self-identity and participation. Parenting invites us to model to our children how to come from the heart and embrace and respect and accept each other with appreciation and gratitude. At the same time, it provides us with a catalytic environment for yet more of our own growth. As we foster familial connection, teaching collaboration and contribution, we are making a difference–and giving our children the tools to make a difference as they go out into the world.

There are many viable frameworks for what constitutes “family” and we need not limit ourselves to conventional concepts. Family may be built out of many forms of community. I have found family is defined by our relationships rather than our bloodlines. My own family is a lively cross-cultural blend, ever expanding with more novelty. My husband and I came together with three very young children between us from prior partnerships, and then added a fourth of our own. Our oldest three children all lost their other parent in childhood. We put together a family stunned by traumatic loss, and then set about reconstructing our lives.

How do you trust loving again? How do you restore peace and trust to children who have been confronted with the ruthlessness of life so young?  

We put our faith in the generative force of love and learned in real time and outcomes that it is our greatest resource. We bonded together with intention and respect and appreciation and gratitude, for each other and for life, changed by loss, but affirmatively choosing to make joy wherever possible, in each moment. We chose our family, and we chose to create and connect and share. We cross-adopted our children, blended our dissimilar cultures and holidays, invited each other’s families to join us, and engaged in living and loving with exuberance. And in so doing, we showed our children a way forward. 

Each of us have been challenged and tried and shaped not only through our losses, but as well through our common understanding and collective resilience. We held each other in pain indescribably deep and blessed each other with the healing power of love. We encouraged each other—by going on together with optimism and hope, laughter and humor, wonder and awe. Even as we honored the past, with memories and stories and photos, and included our respective extended family networks in our lives, we chose to show our children how to delight in the present, in themselves, in each other, and in the world around us. Delight is contagious, you know, so as they felt it they could not help but share it. 

My intent in raising my children has been to build their trust and sense of security in this world by nurturing their uniqueness, applauding and encouraging them in their dreams and desires and imagination and creative capabilities. My most often repeated instruction to my children has been: "You need to be you.” To truly support each of them in emerging into full self, I had to let go of any preconceived ideas I might have had about who they should be. I abandoned attachment to any particular outcome other than to see them grow in their original selves, and I did this happily for I knew this awakening in self is what would allow them to regain a sense of safety and to stand in strength and confidence, unafraid and empowered, and fully integrate in this life as loving and productive individuals. In order to spread themselves outward into community, they needed to first find safety in their own certainty of self.

Our familial interactions lay foundations for growing our selves and our children. Family—however configured–offers us an occasion to learn cherishment. I cherish my husband. I cherish my children. This teaches them to cherish. And from this understanding we move outward: I cherish my friends and community, I cherish my incarnational opportunity.

The connections we weave are the weft and warp of the fabric of our lives. As we strengthen and build the fibers and knit in new filaments, we strengthen the material of our incarnation. The richer the tapestry and the tighter the weave, the more securely we are held, both in times of pain and times of joy. We can shape our fabric; it is flexible, and resilient, too. It may catch us as a safety net, or unfurl as a parachute, or wrap us in warmth. Its strength and integrity hold us together in times of wear or tear, for every thread we have added to it makes it more durable. 

Together we stitch together our material into great and textured quilts, interweaving contact and relationship into our lives to build our selves, our families, our communities, our nations and our world. This is how we forge alliances and trust. This is the means for sharing our wealth, our generative resources, our individual love and genius. This is world crafting.

Incarnational Lesson Three: Don’t hide your light under a bushel! Share your self with the world. Make waves—by allowing your self-light to spread outward. Bring your unique talents and gifts into motion as we create and initiate and transform together our environment and ourselves. Practice your power of blessing, manifestation, collaboration, and loving engagement with life. Cherish.

4.  Eat Chocolate 

Our greatest sense of peace and well-being as humans lies in the integration of our spiritual access with our physical bodies. We are spiritual beings in earthen bodies, and we balance in equipoise between heaven and earth (so to speak), inner and outer, ethereal and physical. In real and pragmatic terms, this means living and doing and being in our bodies. Not just our minds, and not only through our souls. We sometimes long to escape to disembodied places, whether non-physical spiritual or imaginary realms, for respite from the pain and effort of life. These are nice places to visit, but as long as we are incarnate, it is necessary to counterbalance with grounded presence. Otherwise the body begins to suffer, and emotional, social and physical stresses eventually compound into great discomfort from imbalance.  

I am here. I chose to be here, and I want to experience here in every way I can, to explore physicality completely. While I am here, I am not focused on trying to get to another “not here” place. I am present.

Incarnation is a delectable sensory occasion grounded in physical engagement with the universe. It blesses us with the remarkable opportunity of physical perception, allowing us to experience through the senses rather than through nonphysical consciousness. Physicality gives us much: beauty (inner and outer), intelligence and mind, heart, the capacity for pleasure and for pain, and for compassion as well as a result of our own painful experiences. It allows us to express and share our creativity through all of the arts, including language. Our embodiment gives us the means to be who we are. Soul and body are equal partners in incarnation.

It is our physical senses that offer us the means for discovery, engagement, and then loving what we have discovered. One of the best things about being incarnate in this body is its sensation. And your sensation is yet another expression of you, as only you can experience your feeling-sense.

I have vivid memories of just how sensory experience worked to help me “make sense” of things in the world. When I was a little girl my father's work moved our family to France. Rather unexpectedly, and not prepared, I found myself plucked out of familiar and American surroundings and deposited in a small French village, feeling much as Dorothy must have felt when she found herself in Oz (and not unlike I felt when I arrived in that delivery room ten years earlier.) I was unable to rely upon my cognitive or conscious process to understand what was happening. First, I had to experience the new before I could integrate it. And the delivery mechanism for the new, for experiencing, was through my physical senses.

Having just completed a long transcontinental flight, my parents and all four of us children arrived exhausted at a small apartment hotel, the Hotel Mirabeau, a drab building still not recovered from the damage of World War II. Everything was unfamiliar and impressive for that very reason, beginning with a perilous looking old wrought iron cage elevator and strangers speaking words I did not understand. There were no groceries in the apartment when we arrived, and so my father asked the attendant downstairs to bring something to us for breakfast. Soon after, he arrived with steaming hot chocolate and a bundle of still warm flakey buttery crescent shaped rolls. With mild curiosity, but mostly hunger, I bit into my first croissant, and to this day I remember it as perhaps the most marvelous thing I have ever tasted. Darkly browned, not the light golden color generally seen nowadays, crispy and sharply curved into tight arcs, the ends touching each other in the middle--I made a mess, as my buttery fingers left crusty flakes everywhere. The hot chocolate was unlike any I had ever had.  

Aha! I understood something about my surroundings in that moment. I couldn’t articulate what it was, but a connection had been made. It is these little, and often ephemeral, moments of sensory discovery that engage us with and develop our incarnations. And that is why they are important.

This full immersion sensory navigation started me on my way to understanding the importance of balancing my inner awareness with outer experience. I was plunged into a rich array of new experiences quickly, nearly overwhelming me at times, propelling me into a fast-paced learning and growth period. Within days I found myself in the stern Madame Hashim’s classroom, where only French was spoken, a language to which I had no exposure. I understood not one word, and I distinctly remember my mind’s inability to compute. I vacillated between a kind of dissociated inner process and being present, trying to figure out this new world. I absorbed the environment through both my inner and physical senses, but quickly discovered that my physical perception was most important in this setting. I mediated in this way for about a month, understanding nothing, but as each day passed, I became more aware that I didn’t need to understand with my mind, I could and would understand in other ways. And seemingly suddenly, one day I understood what was being said. It was as if it all clicked into place at once in whole comprehension.

I learned something else: the significance of the ephemeral. These Proustian moments of croissants and chocolate survive to inform self and identity, to inspire and shape expression, and move us each toward creative contribution. We pursue new experiences grounded in past sensory experience, and we learn to cook, or at least to taste, we travel and look and see new shapes and colors and places, works of art and nature and people; we love, we laugh, we cry and we engage in ways that offer new moments and insights and growth and expansion.

Sensory perception connects us to conscious awareness and thought. Our sensory organs serve us as matchless retrieval and input mechanisms, necessary to navigate incarnation. Physical engagement is a necessary condition that keeps the incarnational process moving. The richness of physicality–the voluptuousness and sometimes messiness of life—is a necessary ingredient for discovering self and celebrating others.

Our physical form allows us the visceral experiences of ego and emotion, both positive and negative, and allows us to feel attachment—to people, places, experiences and outcomes—in ways that are both wonderful and difficult. We are enlivened by joy and pleasure and challenged to grow by loss and pain.

We nourish our incarnations by seeking ways to experience through our bodies and its senses, just as we nourish our bodies with rest and food and exercise. If I were not here in this form, how would I know the sweetness of my child’s touch, the sound and happiness of laughter, the warmth of a friend’s embrace? How else could I know the incomparable elation of holding my newborn child, or experience the quality of love she engenders in me, to look upon her and feel the ineffable wonder of creation that produces a new life? How would I have discovered warm croissants, or the multi-sensory delight of really fine dark chocolate? Would I know the uncountable pleasures of making love? Is there any way I could know the warmth of the sun on my skin other than to be in my skin?  

What are the simple things that you love or that give you pleasure? Perhaps the colors and scent of roses, the feel of swimming in salt water, the majesty of nature, playing with your dog, blue skies, running brooks, the smell of coffee, the feeling of dewy grass on bare feet, sunsets, baseball, laughter, holding hands, a song, fresh baked bread, sweet silence…and once you have attended to a list of your own, then remember to come back to these simple and life affirming experiences as often as you can. Linger with them, savor them. In other words, engage with the world around you eagerly and with a sense of conscious and feeling appreciation. This will help you remember your self, feel and feed your body, fill you, and fortify you in times of difficulty.

As you sample the sensory smorgasbord laid out before you, you will find innumerable likings – how and in what is subjective; what matters is that you discover for your self. Your enjoyment shines upon those around you and it is radiance fomented and fueled directly through your own incarnate sensory capacity.

Incarnational Lesson Four: Get physical. Taste! See! Touch! Smell! Hear! Move! Appreciate all around you. Be present to the fleeting moment. Feed your senses, and you will grow your self. Grow yourself and we grow, too. Savor the incarnational opportunity. Live Love. And Love Life.

5.  Staying Connected

Being human is a balancing act. We are unavoidably preoccupied with our physicality, especially as we adjust to it, and exploring the possibilities and limits of physical embodiment. And yet, it is our soul that chose to incarnate, and it is the partnership between soul and body that allows us to generate for ourselves and others as we discover our individuality and expression. As we become absorbed with the practical aspects of living, we must remember to attend to our inner connections, for incarnational development lies in the integration of inner and outer, physical and non-physical as each of these parts come together in the wholeness of who we are and what we bring. 

Soul is a channel of love and purpose that informs and inspires and guides us. It is a conduit we need to keep open and flowing, but we can become disconnected from it—often just from the distraction and busyness of life. Inner awareness is like a muscle that must be used to stay strong and flexible, and the way to exercise it is through some practice of attunement—to self and the sacred and subtle realms.

Inner attunement isn’t as foreign as you might think. It does not require special ability or training or tools or practices, for it is already part of you. We are always connected to the inner realm because we are part of it and it is part of us. What we need is to remember to check in with our awareness, each in our own ways.

Most of us have some idea that prayer or meditation or even lucid dreaming are viable practices for inner attunement, and so they are. But there are many other ways to get there! And it is so much simpler than we have been taught to believe. In my work with individuals, I am always struck with how easily so many doubt their own capacities to access intuitive awareness; yet, I can say that without exception I have never met anyone who couldn’t find his inner voice. It is just a matter of knowing what inner access means and how to find a doorway.

We knew where the doorway was when we first arrived in these bodies, and we traveled back and forth with ease, traversing with lingering pre-birth awareness and imagination. As children, our imaginations are boundless, flexible and fluid, and we are able to think magically. One of my favorite approaches to the subtle inner realms is through imagination. Returning to that kind of expansive play is a great practice for attunement. As humans we are adept imagineers, able to suspend reality naturally, and without much effort. Think of how you follow the thread of a daydream—and there you are, exploring imaginal realms! These imaginal realms share many characteristics with the subtle realms, especially in how we can approach and relate to them, and practice in the imaginal serves to refine our inner access skills. And it is fun! I join my young grandchildren gleefully as they travel to many fantastical places on a daily basis, and I see how this maintains and nurtures their inner connections. In exploring through imagination, they uncover and grow their selves as they apply new ideas in play and dream up even more novel inventions along the way. Imaginal play is a foundation for discovery, insight, and breakthrough.

My inner contacts arrive often through focused meditation—but equally often without focus as I am walking in the woods or gardening, simply enjoying the fresh air and the peace and beauty of nature, or listening to music, or watching waves break on a beach.  

Inner access comes through finding a way into your self, and whatever way works for you is the right way. The key is to find a means to limit stimuli from external sources, to quiet the noise of our lives, and take a break. And to do so regularly, even if only for a few minutes at a time.  

You are indeed always in contact with the inner world, but you need to remember to shift your state of mind and get your inner wavelengths open to know it. 

Stop and take a quiet moment and go into yourself, without agenda or expectation, just settle into stillness with quiet mind. Listen to your body; notice your physical and emotional responses, for they are tools of discernment. Pay attention to your dreams and imagination, they often contain markers as you find your bearings. Pay attention to what comes up: what do you feel or see or know?  

It is in this way that I find the voice that I know is mine and feel assurance and safety and comfort as I navigate incarnation. Inner connection helps me remember who I am, and in this felt self-recognition I find certainty, confidence and inspiration. And most of all it allows me to know the expansiveness of my heart. This is attunement.

Incarnational Lesson Five: Exercise your inner access skills. Balancing your inner and outer awareness makes you stronger in both fields. Connection with your quiet inner self allows you to keep open your channel of love. Staying connected to the nonphysical realms helps make us whole.

6.  Making a Difference

We come into life and learn. Through our incarnational development, we find our selves and our ability to love and serve and express compassion and understand truth and integrity. But there is more to it than that. We come as creators, initiators, makers. We are each sources of spiritual energy, each uniquely configured to shape our own lives with intention and to bring blessings to ourselves, to others and to the world. Human beings are living sources of spiritual energy, and we arrive here in this form with the chance to direct our own creative abilities in original and positive ways.

We each make a difference. First by arriving here, by being physically present. We come into the world each with our own talents and potential, each a personification of a distinct aspect of the universe and ready to participate in creating. It is essential that we recognize the importance and strengths of our individual selves as creators and generators of the future.  

We assume the dense form of human matter in anticipation of the opportunity to explore our essence, our souls, through a new medium, a material form. The idea is not to spend our embodied time waiting to get out or to get somewhere else, but rather, to bring something, to add something, to participate in the unfolding of creation here, and at the same time add to our own understanding, all by and through our unique presence and being.

Imagine you are an artist. Your body, your mind, your heart and its field, and your physical senses of touch, feel, smell, taste, vision and hearing are your means of expression. This life, this beautiful, gritty, complicated, poignant, dazzling and messy mass of persevering matter and creation is both your toolbox and your canvas. What will you make? How does the “difference” that is you manifest?  

And, we make a difference together. We do not work alone. My expression is informed by yours.  As you touch me, then you touch each person I touch. There is great power and prospect in our collaboration, for as we interact and ally our selves, the whole is greater than the sum of the parts. We do best together, in partnership and community. Collaboration and service spark our own growth and development and help move us towards personal and systemic integration.

As we move through this life, we often ask: What do I bring? What action am I called to take?  What are my rules of engagement? Who may I collaborate with? Who and where is my community? And one of my most frequent queries: how do I answer these questions?

Check your blueprint. I think of each of us as having a passive and an active component: the potentiality and its implementation. We arrive as the incarnation of a complex soul, with great capacity and possibility—a good blueprint, to be sure. But action is required to move towards wholeness, both for ourselves and for the world we live in. We are doers.

The possibilities for contribution, sharing, engagement—your action—are unlimited. It depends on you. Your mark need not be made in civil or social causes; it could be made in parenting or gardening or cooking or inventing or educating or healing or smiling or myriad other ways to express yourself as only you can do. Because you are one of a kind. Callings come in many shapes and sizes, and none is greater than another. What matters is that yours is yours, and you respond to your own; it is the unique expression of your soul in unison with your individual identity. What is important is that you initiate action in some form, no matter how small, whether or not it is seen by anyone else, to realize your blueprint, to bring your soul into fuller expression through your physical self and identity, to bring what only you can bring to us: the light of you.  

Don’t underestimate yourself. Remember, the future lies in your thoughts and actions. When you share your idealism and hope and give of your self, then we are all touched, and your unique contribution moves us forward. We each have the potential to generate change. It starts first with personal intention, the root of your own action, and your own action is what then ripples out and influences those around you and the greater field beyond. Even when you think you are acting alone, you are never alone because your thoughts and actions have life and trajectory and reach others. 

As you extend a hand to others, you also nurture your self. I find this is true over and over in my own life. In my work, I often help others to find a sense of self, guiding them to connect up to that awareness in support of emergence and integration between soul and personal identity. And in the process, I know my self. It can be a delicate business, as remembering and recognizing and knowing self may involve some reframing of self-concept. But we have each other; we are able to support each other in this process of incarnation, and it is important to have that support, to feel sureness and safety and comfort as we explore and discover. 

So why are you here? Remember, the answer lies in your self and your connection with heart-centered living and engagement, loving and giving, informed by sacred soul, not controlled by ego and its instruments–emotions such as fear, anger, desire.

Most of all, remember what really matters:

Love. Life. Laughter. Joy. Giving. Doing. Sharing. Cherishing.

Incarnational Lesson Six: Recognize you are a creator. We grow as we share our selves and our loving, creative intentions. Participation and partnership serve and empower and transform us. You are an agent of change. Together we co-create.

David's Desk 170 Summer Thoughts

David's Desk is my opportunity to share thoughts and tools for the spiritual journey. These letters are my personal insights and opinions and do not necessarily reflect the sentiments or thoughts of any other person in Lorian or of Lorian as a whole. If you wish to share this blog post with others, please feel free to do so; however, the material is ©2021 by David Spangler.

My eye surgery this past month ran into some hiccups as the retina of the eye which was operated on has swelled. This is more bothersome than alarming as it’s a known complication of cataract surgery, and it will heal itself over time. However, while it is doing so, my vision is blurry and writing is a chore. So, I’m once again dipping back into my David Desk archives. This particular essay was written twelve years ago this week (David’s Desk 26, July 2009). I’ve edited it a bit to bring it up to date. I hope you enjoy it.

Consider a small town in which everyone has a house and a garden and all the houses are clustered into small neighborhoods separated by hedges. People are aware that they are in a town but it serves more as a backdrop to their everyday lives than as a true community. Everyone is busy attending to their own affairs, their own gardens, and their own homes, with some attention left over for their immediate neighbors.

But then one day a discovery is made. There are underground wires running between all the houses and not just the ones in a particular neighborhood cluster either. The whole town seems to be interconnected in ways no one had suspected. Furthermore, these wires are attached to a peculiar instrument that had always been in the house but which had not seemed to do anything, so folks had just been ignoring it. Searching about, they found old dusty manuals that suggested that these devices, called “telephones,” could be used to talk over a distance across the hedges to people in other houses, even people in neighborhoods on the far side of town. Suddenly the sense of being part of a whole town became that much more real.

Unfortunately, they also discovered that many of the wires had been broken by the digging and plowing that people had been doing in their own fields and around their homes. If we really want to have a whole town, the people said to each other, we need to fix these connections so we can talk to each other. And this is what they did.

However, they discovered even this was not enough. Interconnected though they might be and although they were now communicating and aware of each other in new ways, they began to realize that to truly be a town they had to build it together. Communication by itself was not sufficient for community. A level of mutual participation, caring, and co-creativity was also required. For the town was more than just a collection of houses and neighborhoods; it was a collaborative creation, a shared consciousness and identity. 

Over the past few decades, particularly as the impact of climate change has become more and more felt and acknowledged, the penny is dropping that we live in an interconnected, holistic world in which all of life is interdependent and interconnected in profound and complex ways. To continue my metaphor, we are citizens of a township called Gaia or Earth, a “township” made up of many diverse neighborhoods. The next great task is to learn how to be participants, collaborators and co-creators with the other neighborhoods that make up this world and in the process fixing the connections that our human activities, particularly in recent years, have allowed to become broken.

For make no bones about it, we live in a broken world, though one that I feel can be repaired. The connections between parts of ourselves, between ourselves and others (particularly those different racially, ethnically, politically, economically, or culturally from ourselves), between ourselves and the kingdoms of nature, and between ourselves as physical beings and the subtle or non-physical realms of life and intelligence are nowhere near as healthy, whole, or vital as they could be. Much of this “wiring” has been buried and forgotten or outright broken, leaving us struggling within a fragmented—and fragmenting—consciousness of the world.

This issue is not solved simply by accepting and believing in a holistic paradigm. It is solved by collaborative mind and action, a reaching out across our boundaries to create wholeness through, at the very least, the use of love, caring, and appreciation. It is also helped by developing an appreciation for the many ways in which we are connected and the nature of some of the invisible “subtle” wiring that we’ve overlooked for decades in our technological and materialistic culture. 

I suppose my summer thought then is that as challenging as the work has been and continues to be for many people to articulate and foster a holistic, ecological worldview, the real work, the “town-building” work, is yet ahead of us. If the holistic paradigm has asked us to revision and redefine the nature of the world around us, the next step asks us to revision and redefine ourselves in co-creative and participatory relationship to that world. It means accepting levels of both surrender and openness on the one hand and power and capacity on the other with which we may feel uncomfortable and unfamiliar. It asks us to step up as partners to the world, learning to “think like a planet.”

Thank you, everyone! May you have a wonderful, blessed, joyful, fun, and safe summer.

Happily Ever After

When I was a child, I loved reading myths and fairy tales. I read through them all: Greek, Roman, Chinese, Arabic, Native American, Norse; and the fairy tales – Hans Christian Anderson, Grimm’s, and folk tales from many cultures. They captured a world that I felt to be real in some way and I held deeply to their lessons and example.

But one thing always frustrated me. They all ended with the idea “and they all lived happily ever after." Wait! I wanted to know more about “happily ever after”: What was it like? How did this mysterious world unfold for my beloved characters? How could I fill out my pictures of this magical place and where did it exist? Was it always somewhere else, or could it appear in my life?

Although these questions faded to the background in the busyness of growing older, they have never really disappeared. Every once upon a time, in a reflective moment, they re-emerge. That is when I check in with my life events and experiences, I reflect on their overall tone of satisfaction and consider, have I found any clues to happily ever after?

Now much life has been lived and I have become more familiar with happily ever after. What have I found?

First, I would say that happily ever after rests in the experience of sovereignty, of self. Life has brought me experiences and choices and I learned through those relationships and choices what is true for me, where I stand. Standing in self is where happily ever after begins.

Secondly, happily ever after is always reflected in relationship, whether that relationship is with myself, with another, or with the wider world. It is not a physical place with one single set of coordinates; it emerges through a dynamic engagement between people, the natural world, and the fluid circumstances in life.

Thirdly, it is fostered by a stance – an attitude. I have come to find that, just as in the stories, it is a result of welcoming and engaging our life with openness, humility and honor for the beauty and possibility within each person and situation. Through my attention I empower the best in my world and draw out the happiness that is within it. Within the spaciousness of my love and appreciation happily ever after emerges through a constantly renewing dynamic that accepts and stands present to self and to other with honor and respect. Standing clearly and joyfully present to my life is what creates a happily ever after world.

But while right choices and self-reflection, open and respectful appreciation, tolerance and love are important and valuable skills and attitudes, these lessons did not draw out the full magic of those happily ever after endings in me. That has only emerged out of searching for the sacredness within life. It is my effort to engage both my incarnation and the Sacred that has provided the foundation for opening a meaningful, integrated happily ever after life.

Incarnational Spirituality is the worldview and practice that has brought sacredness and incarnate life together for me. It explores the possibility that the earth itself is not only a place that receives light but like a sun is also a source of it; and each individual, similarly is a source of creative action in their life. We are not only receivers of blessing but we can ourselves generate it. The earth experience is ultimately one that expands the sacred, gifted mystery of life, the ultimate Happily Ever After.

From this foundational principle of the generative nature of all life, Incarnational Spirituality goes on to posit that our earth is a co-creative partner to us adding its own unique intelligence and gifts. It encourages a dynamic relationship between self and world, creative whole to creative whole. It is this view of world and self that has created a transformational shift in me and has brought the idea of happily ever after out of childhood dreams and into an applied reality.

Happily ever after can be very different for different people. For one it might include a bustling city life, for another quiet country living, or a large family experience or a focused life of study. There are infinite expressions of happily ever after– as many as the grains of sand in the earth. I have defined some markers for myself that have been common to the various shapes and options I have explored.

I can embrace myself. I have the resources within myself to fulfill a life. When I stand simply and fully in myself and look honestly at my strengths and weaknesses, I am enough – no more, no less and I have the capacity to fulfill my life’s promise. Most of my fairytale friends had something to learn about themselves, about finding and using their particular gifts before happily ever after could enter their lives and so do I. Affirming, with humility by standing in my own gifts for shaping a life is integral to creating my particular happily ever after. The first incarnational principle is standing.

I can embrace the parameters of my own life. I look first to what I have to work with in my existing options, and how I can enhance them. When I look at my experiences as a path to learn from rather than an obstacle to avoid, possibilities begin to unfold. If I find myself admiring another’s gifts or experiences or opportunities, I see that as an indicator of something that has interest and relevance to me. I don’t like the experience of envy, it cuts away at joy for me. But it doesn’t go away just because I tell it to go. Over time I have had to learn to embrace my envy as a signpost to an interest and desire that I have been ignoring. Now when envy comes up, I try to step back and look to what exists in my world of opportunity as the foundation for this new interest. Looking to essence, I ask how the qualities it represents can be nurtured in my life.

I can embrace others. I am the executive director of my life and guardian of its resources and I am supported by and responsible to the community around me. The meaning and relevance of any life comes out of its connection to the community of life in which it exists. I want and need to recognize the multiple layers of community which surround me. I am a partner offering respect for others and respect for myself to shape a happily ever after world that can sustain itself over time.

I embrace the unknown and unexpected. One of the things that was not easily developed within my experience of happily ever after was the need for adaptability and the unknown. To my childhood understanding, the fairytale world seemed ordered with specific directions that the hero or heroine learned to follow to accomplish the task. When I look back at those fairytales however, being able to be responsive in the moment was a test that every adventure seemed to include. Their capacity to respond to the unexpected with grace and creativity was the key. Most of them had some experience of leaving their path, forgetting their instructions or challenging the rules in some way, and that brought the tests of learning they required. They then would overcome the tests with hope, trust, determination, and often the gift of friends. Including flow and change as one of the foundations of happily ever after feels very risky and dangerous; life is definitely a deep wood filled with unknown creatures. Gradually, I have come to recognize that there is no one right path through but multiple good options; it is the choices we make at each crossroads along the way that are important. To include the unknown from the beginning as a part of our life equation is important.

These markers of happily ever after have come to my attention slowly over the years, at first dropping in and out without my noticing how they appeared or why they disappeared. But gradually one learns to plant oneself in life and notice what widens the field of happiness within it. My understanding grew even more specifically when I began noticing there was a felt-sense for the energy of happily ever after. There was a quality to the experience that I felt in my body, a resonance of connection that was outside of a mental and emotional consciousness. This felt-sense drew my attention to noticing the commonality of these essential threads when logic or psychology could not see them.

What is also interesting about these markers is that as strategies I could be good at any one of them in a particular moment of concentration, but bringing them all together at one time was difficult. Something else was required to create the whole picture. It related to where and how happily ever after can exist. Happily ever after is a fluid and responsive land, changing to meet the needs and serve the blossoming of each person and therefore it can only exist in the present moment, refreshed by our choices and relationships as they unfold.

I have a quote from an unknown author posted in my office that upholds me and provides much support in this area:

“To love God is to love the two things closest to Him, Change and a good Joke.” 

The respectful acceptance of whatever and whoever comes–whether it be help from small creatures, or mysterious old ladies, advice from talking mirrors or magical lamps, and respecting the unexpected gifts within the opportunity and relationships that come to us all–speaks to the willingness to incorporate and engage the unknown elements of life, the spark of possibility from which new things emerge. The joy of shared laughter is another hallmark. But as I noticed recently, it is love that is the objective. It is love that brings parts together into a new whole.  

In the incarnational framework love is held in the principle of emergence. It brings together parts so that they rediscover their wholeness. It is the glue that binds the parts into a whole.

My work with incarnational spirituality as it has developed in me over the years has helped to craft the idea of happily ever after into a structure of life that enriches and satisfies. An incarnational perspective acknowledges each person’s thinking, feeling, and action through the choices, the attitudes and intentions they express. From there it embraces a community of life both subtle and physical that upholds and builds through mutual respect and responsibility. I love noticing my own unicorns, wise ones, magic fairy wishes, elves or woodland creatures who appear in my life as friends with gifts, personal challenges met, or books falling open off the shelf with just the right thought to point me to a problem’s answer.

Within this experience of choice, happily ever after is affirmed as a very individual experience; there is no one perfect expression that fits everyone. With every small or large choice I make, I venture out and away from the shared, known world to explore new territory.

I have noticed that happily ever after requires me to stand in a place that affirms individual sovereignty and an interconnected weaving of relationship with others–friends, family, society and the natural world around me as well as subtle levels of beingness from microscopic and atomic levels of matter into energetic levels of intelligence. All are unique and responsible for themselves, all are interconnected and ultimately accountable to the whole within which they exist.

It empowers me to become the heroine who shapes my life through a connection to the sacredness of all life and my response to the experiences that come to me. Happily ever after is a way of receiving and engaging experiences which results in a life well-lived.

David’s Desk 169 These are Still Important

David's Desk is my opportunity to share thoughts and tools for the spiritual journey. These letters are my personal insights and opinions and do not necessarily reflect the sentiments or thoughts of any other person in Lorian or of Lorian as a whole. If you wish to share this blog post with others, please feel free to do so; however, the material is ©2021 by David Spangler.

This month, I’m recovering from dental surgery and preparing to have cataracts removed over the next three weeks. Fun! I’m actually very thankful that medical science has progressed to where these surgeries are possible and my vision, which has been getting increasingly blurry, will be restored. But it does mean I haven’t had much energy or focus for writing a new David’s Desk.

Ironically, nine years ago, I was in a similar situation. The David’s Desk I wrote then seems perfectly fit for now, so while I recover, I’m offering the following repeat. The questions I ask are still just as important.

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THE PARTNERING QUESTIONS

This month finds me convalescing from two major surgeries and a time in the hospital. While I am recovering steadily, I am not quite back to being able to sit at the computer for very long to write, so this essay will be shorter than usual. But it’s no less heartfelt for being brief.

There are Big Questions that confront us in life. We’re all familiar with them: Who Am I? Where Did I Come From And Why? Where Am I Going? What Is My Life’s Purpose? What Is The Meaning Of It All?

It used to be that religion and spirituality were the main avenues for finding answers to these mysteries; then philosophy stepped in and added its contributions. For the past two centuries, it’s been Science’s turn to have a crack at them.

There’s no argument that these are important questions. Very smart and insightful people have dedicated their lives to answering them, and over the millennia, various answers have been proposed. Of course, once someone has come up with answers (at least to his or her satisfaction), someone else will say, “But…” and ask the questions again, prompting yet more probing and more or different answers. It may well be an endless quest.

We shape our world by the questions we ask—and by those we fail to ask. If I’m asking who I am or what my purpose is in life, then finding that kind of information is where my attention will be. I’ll be looking for explanations and reasons. I may ignore those things that don’t provide me with that knowledge.

Understanding the “why” of things can be mentally and emotionally satisfying. Self-knowledge and self-understanding can be vitally important. It seems to me, though, that many of the problems we face in our world require more than just explanations. It may be that as we move forward into our future, the truly Big Questions will become “How Might I Help?” and “What Can We Do Together?” or “How Can We Collaborate?” These are the questions that form connections and foster participation. I think of them as “partnering” questions. Answering them enables us to build community and get things done. They open the door to collaboration that can help resolve challenges with grace and skill, creativity and resilience.

These partnering questions are the ones we usually ask in times of crisis. When people are facing the destruction of their homes by fire or flood, which has been happening with distressing frequency this year, they are not going to ask “Who am I?” They are going to ask what they can do to help each other, either to save their homes or to rebuild afterward. It’s when people don’t feel some crisis looming over them that they feel they have the leisure and time to ponder the meaning of it all.

However, if we asked the partnering questions more often and especially in times when we’re not feeling threatened but rather as a normal part of life, then many crises might be averted. If “How might I help in this situation?” became one of our Big Questions, the kind of questions we ask frequently and attentively, then we would be more aware of the needs of the world around us and more attuned to how we might contribute to their resolution. A world shaped by a habitual use of the partnering questions would be a world filled with greater awareness, compassion, and cooperation. It would be a world bent upon finding solutions rather than simply upon winning and proving the other fellow wrong.

Religion, spirituality, philosophy, and science can give us important perspectives and tools to use in healing and blessing our world, but it’s the hospitality and openness of our own hearts and minds that can turn the partnering questions into Big Questions, Important Questions, Questions that focus our attention, time, and energy. They turn our attention outward to each other, creating opportunities to use our explanations, knowledge, and tools in service and collaboration.

If we want to build a better world for ourselves and our children and grandchildren, it’s the Partnering Questions that will help shape it into being.

Fuel for the Journey

The engineer, therapist, and let’s face it, often off-kilter human being in me is drawn to the Twelve Steps as pioneered and practiced by members of Alcoholics Anonymous and many other spin-off 12-Step programs. Why? Because the program of progressive steps packs a wallop when looking for a way back to the land of the living from a place of darkness and destruction. They carve a practical path, a straightforward road for working with those errant energies; clearing one’s energy field, not to mention cleaning up the wreckage of the past. They provide a method, an accessible path to clearing a space for progression on any other chosen spiritual or philosophical discipline. The 12-Step program is, in essence, a darned good spiritual kindergarten. 

Incarnational Spirituality, not a kindergarten of any kind, is a system that affirms the reality of a complex and miraculous journey from the spiritual realm, into the physical and back to the spiritual realm, honoring each stage of that journey with a big-picture view of the part we humans play in the evolution of the planet as a whole, and in even larger arenas. It promotes and helps students to develop the often latent abilities of humans to recognize, engage and co-create with energies and entities both physical and subtle (non-physical) for the healing and evolution of the planet and beyond. The mind boggles.

According to I.S., one of the effects of incarnating into a physical state is the resultant birth of one’s own incarnational light or self light. I.S. suggests that this light or personal star is an energy generator in its own right, as opposed to a more conventional way of thinking of a human being’s energy coming from the ability to tap into and channel transcendent energies (although self light can also certainly be enhanced by transcendental energy). This internal star is the natural birthright of every human; it comes with us as does breath at birth.  

This star light belongs to each human throughout their incarnation. It is also thought to be their personal ‘light signature,’ their identifying ‘name’ and presence to other entities, physical or subtle, that recognize light and vibration. Perhaps the presence of this incoming light star is what partially fuels the mesmerizing experience of looking at an infant. Pure juju.

As life progresses, I.S. teaches, there are opportunities to enhance or dampen this light. Indeed, we may have chosen to incarnate this time in certain circumstances, with certain others, in order to work with particular elements or situations. Some of these situations are choices, some of these are from the environment, some are from exploring and adventuring. Over time, such causes as abuses, trauma, lack of nurturance, fears, and sometimes addiction perhaps play a part in dampening the luminosity of one’s star. Addiction can be connected to external or internal chemicals: externally produced chemicals such as those in alcohol, drugs and certain food substances, and internally produced chemicals which are generated during gambling, sex, raging, controlling, gaming, or any high-risk, high-intensity activity. 

There are countless ways to collect issues, problems, self-doubts, fears, and stuck points, and if there are not coping skills and a support system to help work through these issues, the energy “packets” of these things can get lodged in the subtle field(s) of the person. Just as dirt and bugs collect on headlamps, the self star can become more and more dimmed and less and less accessible because of these distractions and interferences. As a well-lit lamp can light up a path, so a dimmed lamp can obscure it. 

David Spangler has used the metaphor of a campfire in a campground strewn with kindling to illustrate the relationship we have with issues and complications in life. They are like fallen pieces of wood both in the immediate clearing and farther afield in the forest areas. These ‘kindling’ issues come in many forms and from many sources and areas: physical, mental, emotional, psychic and spiritual, as well as from the personality, the physical environment, the transcendent, the human condition. Many sources. Some of us have relatively orderly campgrounds, and others of us, this author included, may have a veritable beaver’s dam of wood for the fire.

Dealing with the kindling and dead wood brings to mind, within the 12-Step program, the process of working with resentments and life issues that are journaled in the 4th Step Inventory and shared in the 5th Step. The process of listing resentments against persons, places, things or institutions, and examining one’s fears and past is conducted with the intention of moving from a place of stuckness and blame of others to looking at the part played by self in each situation, no matter how small one’s own part might be. (This is not to be taken as a perspective of blaming victims for their injuries; for often the only part the victim may have played was to have been in a state of innocence or in the wrong place at the wrong time.) 

Looking at one’s own part in a situation, however large or small, begins the process of clearing out the junk of the past, cleaning up the kindling, and reclaims one’s own power. The resultant responsibility and freedom for moving forward and making changes and adjustments in one’s own life in the present and in the future is placed squarely on the person and the sources of energy with which they connect. In 12-Step programs, the generic term for this source is one’s Higher Power. 

Self-examination, sweeping up our side of the street, and being of service is good for the body and soul. This is not news. So, what is the twist, the leap in combining the perspectives and processes of Incarnational Spirituality and the direct work of the 12-Step programs? It is in the potential in the kindling. What the 12-Step program shows in a practical way, Incarnational Spirituality describes energetically. 

Twelve-Step programs demonstrate that showing up, cleaning up, and being of service can keep one’s addiction at bay, and lead to a much more fulfilled life; indeed, for anyone, whether they have addiction issues or not. 

I.S. shows that the kindling, examined, owned, and appreciated for the energy and information packet that it is, and released to the transformative fire, is fuel that expands and enhances our star light. It actually makes us brighter; cleans the bugs off the head lamps, and increases our luminosity. 

The more we put into the fire, the bigger the fire becomes. The bigger our fire, the brighter our light—our star. The brighter our star, our light signature, the more possibilities are available to be visible to subtle entities and others that do not see the physical, but are only able to see light. (Remember the Who’s down in Whoville? “We are here! We are HERE! WE ARE HERE!”) The more visible we are to a wider variety of subtle beings, the more opportunity we have for connection, collaboration, and co-creation across the kingdoms, the transitional and non-physical realms. The more collaboration we have with allies, the more effectively and rapidly our healing and growing process as a collective whole can be.

If that is not enough, a really exciting piece is that we all have deeper and deeper areas, deeper parts of the forest in which to gather our kindling. Moreover, through individual avenues of service, this flame can be offered as assistance in helping others to burn up their kindling or as assistance in world work on the subtle or energetic planes. That means that there is no lack of fuel for the flame and that we shall never be left without fire for warming our transcendent toes and roasting our metaphysical marshmallows!

David's Desk 168 Anger

David's Desk is my opportunity to share thoughts and tools for the spiritual journey. These letters are my personal insights and opinions and do not necessarily reflect the sentiments or thoughts of any other person in Lorian or of Lorian as a whole. If you wish to share this blog post with others, please feel free to do so; however, the material is ©2021 by David Spangler.


My father was a deeply loving man. He was not a drinker, but otherwise he was a bit like Jimmy Stewart’s character, Elwood P. Dowd, in the movie, Harvey, open and considerate with everyone he met. Forming friendships came naturally to him. But he had a secret. He had a berserker temper.

As a young man, in the heat of that temper, he had come close on a couple occasions to killing another person. This loss of control when angry so frightened him that he clamped down on this part of himself. In all the years of my childhood, I never saw him angry with another person. In fact, though never explicitly stated, the expression of anger was avoided in our household. One simply did not get angry or express that anger if one did.

For me, the consequence was that while growing up, I never learned how to deal with anger, either in myself or in another. Unlike my father, I do not have a temper, but like anyone, I can certainly become angry. My challenge was that I did not have tools with which to deal with it.  Feeling anger in another was always a bit frightening for me. Being sensitive to subtle energies, I could feel and sometimes see that anger as spikes of hurtful energy emanating from individuals, much like quills from a porcupine. Feeling anger in myself, I was concerned with what I might be radiating as subtle forces that could harm another. 

It was my sensitivity to anger as a form of subtle energy that enabled me to learn how to deal with it, but first I had to accept anger into my life as an ally. I needed to recognize the ways in which it could be constructive as well as the obvious ways it can be destructive and harmful.  I needed to learn to trust myself to be able to handle anger constructively (something, I think, my father was never fully able to do where his own anger was concerned). But I also had to learn to trust anger itself as a form of energy that was as sacred as any other form of subtle energy. Whether it was a positive or negative thing, constructive or destructive, depended on how we held and used it.

Fire has often been used as a metaphor for anger. I believe it’s a good one. We know fire out of control can destroy. We also know that fire held and channeled gives us light, warmth, cooks our food, and in fundamental ways, made civilization possible. We have built our human world on the energy of fire and what it has allowed us to do.

We are living in an angry time. As we awaken more and more to the imbalances, the injustices, the incompetence and even stupidity that are damaging our world and our societies—many of them deeply rooted in the traumas and habits of our histories—anger is a natural result. It can be frightening, especially as the suddenness and swiftness with which anger can turn into berserker and destructive rage is presented to us daily through the news.  And it is frightening in the way we now have tools through the Internet and social media to anonymously, and thus without personal consequence or accountability, let our anger loose in ways that pollute, corrode, and destroy our ability to work together. This is happening in a time when our survival depends on that very ability, when communication and cooperation are vital for human continuance and evolution.

Anger is hard to hold. If we suppress it within ourselves, it can cause harm to our bodies and our psyche. If we just let it explode, it can cause harm to the world and people around us.  Sometimes, the stress we feel makes it seem impossible to hold it. It feels good to let it explode, to rage against the world, to destroy because we have forgotten that we can also create.

I don’t have a full answer for this.  Like

Like It Or Not, You Are Generative

An important concept within Incarnational Spirituality is that of generativity. This is the affirmation that we generate spiritual energy, that as incarnate individuals we are sources of Light–a radiance of spirit that is not simply reflecting energies from transpersonal or “higher” sources. Our generativity is one of the ways we make a difference in our world.

Through our vitality, our thinking, our feeling, and our actions, we are emitting subtle energies of various kinds that impact our world, for better or worse. We can choose to align with the Light within us, the generative source that is our true nature and birthright. We can bless our world with spiritual presence rather than perpetuating the more negative responses that often take our attention and define our reactions.

If we perceive all parts of ourselves, including our personal worldly self, as being not only manifestations of Light but also of a will to Love, then we can more easily see ourselves as being a generative source of blessing in our world. That is a powerful and creative place to stand.

We make a difference, just by being, just by standing in our Sovereignty. Holding that radiance is enough to make a difference.

This generativity has been demonstrated recently in response to a tragic event at the Findhorn Foundation. Last week, an arsonist burned down two buildings central to life at Findhorn. The original main Sanctuary was the first community building constructed and has been the spiritual heart of the community ever since. The Community Center was the kitchen, gathering place, and a site of many parties and celebrations. I imagine that the gut punch that I felt upon hearing this news was shared by all those who had chanced to know this place.

Such destruction naturally might give rise to grief, anger, and strong feelings of wishing justice on the perpetrator. I know that in processing their grief, members of the community have felt and dealt with all these emotions. But I have been deeply moved by the grace and love that has been the predominant note sounded by those in the community. This is generativity in action.

They have chosen to focus on the beauty and joy that was held in the memory of those buildings. The presence of all that was shared in these places has not burned but remains strong in the heart and soul of the place. The strength, courage and commitment to the highest spiritual values has been demonstrated, as usual, by the community’s response. They quote one of the founders, Dorothy Maclean, who in response to a fire in ’72 said:

"There is nothing you can do about that fire, so just see the best in it. Don’t search for reasons. Let us heal the land and add your happy love to the area."

They have taken a tragedy, a shocking act of destruction perpetrated upon icons of their spiritual communion and community, and have turned it from a being a black hole of negative emotion, draining all light into its orbit, into a star field of loving, joyous sharing of inspiration, and fiery hope for the future. These are only buildings that were lost, not the important memories, joy and love shared, and spiritual presence held. All that remains. The important qualities and energies are still held in the land and the people.

This is exactly the kind of response to life’s challenges that Incarnational Spirituality teaches through our classes. Life can bring us grief. How we handle it is a choice. We can focus on what happened and live it over in our minds, keeping the grief alive and fresh. Or we can acknowledge the grief, allowing ourselves to feel it, and then hold it within the generativity of our love to allow it to heal.

Once I let go of the story of the fire and my grief around the loss of these buildings, I was free to pay attention to what my inner felt sense of it was. The odd thing was that after feeling the shock and grief at the news, I was aware of a sense of joy. Buildings can be rebuilt; no life was harmed. It may hurt to let go of their beauty and of the strong memories they held, but in the long run, the fires have released a form that was old to change into a form that will better serve the future. There is joy in that.

The choice to focus on that joy, and on the love of the place that is shared with others, is a practice that takes a negative dark event and turns it into light. Not just positive thinking, but a deep transformative holding of all the complexity of emotions within the human self. Being held within the generative presence of the light of love, those darker thoughts and feelings are transmuted. This opens a new perspective that offers them back to the world as a gift of joy and blessing. This is a powerful act. This is one of the effects of human generativity.

This is what I saw the Findhorn associates doing. It is what the practices we use in Lorian classes promote. Ultimately the energy the Findhorn Community put out into the world this week has been one of renewal and uplift. It has been a work of inspiring others to lift their spirits. It has been an affirmation of beauty. It has been a blessing to the world.

David's Desk #167 Fourteen Years

David's Desk is my opportunity to share thoughts and tools for the spiritual journey. These letters are my personal insights and opinions and do not necessarily reflect the sentiments or thoughts of any other person in Lorian or of Lorian as a whole. If you wish to share this blog post with others, please feel free to do so; however, the material is ©2021 by David Spangler.


FOURTEEN YEARS

It’s amazing to me to think about, but with this David’s Desk, I’m starting my fifteenth year of writing these monthly essays. Fourteen years have gone by since I began this project. Frankly, I had no idea it would last this long! That it has done so has been due to the support and enthusiasm which you, my dear readers, have offered me and the kindness you have shown in welcoming my thoughts into your lives.

From the beginning, I set out a couple of rules for myself. The first was that I would avoid as much as possible writing about politics. The second was that I would not “chase the news,” that is, use David’s Desk to make comments about current social conditions and situations that might be making headlines in the media that month. I felt that there were already a number of very talented and skilled commentators who were writing editorials and blogs covering current events and the machinations of politicians. While I have strong political and social views and opinions, I did not feel my strengths lay in sharing them as some kind of a pundit. What I could do, as I state in the preamble to each Desk, is “share thoughts and tools for the spiritual journey.” This journey is very much in my wheelhouse, so this is what I have tried to do each month.

Still, our spiritual lives are not separate from our social, economic, and political lives. They are all entwined in our wholeness and embedded in the ongoing evolution of our world and of our humanity. There is no doubt in my mind that we are all engaged in a struggle to turn a corner in how we view and treat ourselves, each other, and our world. I am a bone-deep optimist and will always be so, but my optimism doesn’t prevent me from seeing that this struggle is central to whether or not we will thrive—or even survive—as a species.

Because it has many facets, there are equally many valid ways we can define this struggle. One way is the need to rethink our relationship to the Earth in the face of climate change. Another is to deal with the many inequalities that exist in our societies whether these are economic, gender-oriented, racial, religious, or of some other nature that allow one group to have advantages denied to others.  I often think it is a struggle to move from fear—fear of others, fear of loss, fear of powerlessness, fear of the new and unfamiliar, fear of the future—to trust: trust in each other, trust in opportunity, trust in the power of cooperation and mutual service, trust in possibilities, trust in adaptability to meet the future with grace. On the whole, it is a struggle to move from division and conflict to wholeness and cooperation.

However we name this struggle, our spiritual lives are part of it. The purpose of developing spiritually is also to develop in the other parts of our lives that engage with the world. I may not focus in these essays on ways of participating in the struggle for change. This is because I trust in your ability to figure that part out for yourselves, since I don’t know the unique conditions and possibilities—or challenges—of your life. You don’t need me to give you action instructions, but I believe I can help by offering perspectives that can inspire you to act and that affirm your ability to do so with love and wisdom.

Thinking back over the past fourteen years of David’s Desk, there are many essays that I’m proud of, but there are two that stand out for me. I’d like to reproduce them here.

The first is David’s Desk #146 which came out in July of 2019:


WHERE IT STARTS
This month’s David’s Desk is a short picture story with a moral.

I live in a suburb about twenty miles east of Seattle, Washington. The city itself is on Puget Sound, a large body of water that separates us from the Olympic Peninsula to the west and that ultimately opens out into the Pacific Ocean. Here are some pictures of what the Sound looks like:

puget1.jpg
puget2.jpg

My home is about twenty-five miles or so from Puget Sound itself. Beautiful as the Sound is, I normally don’t think about it as I go through my day at home. I can’t see it from where I live, so it’s easy to forget. It seems removed from me.

Unless I walk through our neighborhood….

Throughout our neighborhood, there are storm drains where rain water can run off. They look like this:

stormdrain1.jpg

They are not beautiful. But they are very useful and necessary when it rains!

If you examine the picture of this drain, you’ll see a little sign embedded in the concrete of the curb or sidewalk above it. Here’s a closeup of what the little sign says:

stormdrainsign.jpg

This sign tells me that in terms of being connected and thus of potentially having an impact upon it, Puget Sound is not twenty-some miles away but right here at my feet. Right here where I am standing by one of these storm drains, I am connected to the large body of water that is the Sound.

In effect, this:

stormdrain2.jpg

is also this:

sound.jpg

Something small, utilitarian, and locked in concrete is connected to, and thus part of, something majestic, beautiful, and spacious.

Rather like the relationship we have with sacredness

Every time I take a walk around the neighborhood, I am getting a little lesson in connectedness.  Each time I see one of these drains with its accompanying sign, I’m reminded that what I do in my neighborhood (at least in terms of putting things down these drains) affects Puget Sound. Truly, the Sound starts here.

For me, this is a perfect metaphor for how we are connected with each other and with the world and the universe beyond in many unseen but nonetheless impactful ways. If there is one lesson humanity struggles to learn right now, it is this lesson of just how interconnected we all are. It is a lesson of how our actions can have an effect on people and places in ways we can’t measure by physical proximity. It’s a lesson in our interdependency.

What we generate in our lives through our thoughts, our emotions, and the ways we choose to express them can have a far-reaching influence in a world that is so much more than just its physical nature and appearances. Love and hate both connect, though with very different consequences. 

It is also a metaphor for how we in our ordinariness and individuality are also part of something vast, special, and all-encompassing. Whether I call it the World, the Universe, or God, we are each part of a source of beauty, spaciousness, and abundant life. We are each part of something larger, a Wholeness affected by all that we do.

The message of the little drain-signs in my neighborhood always remind me of the interconnected nature of creation and of the profound lesson we need to learn

david.jpg

The second David’s Desk I want to remember and celebrate came out in August of 2015. It was my 100th essay, and I celebrated it by simply publishing a picture of my desk (my desk looks a bit different now; the two Gandalfs are still there flanking my monitor, along with Yoda and Dr. Strange, but all the other icons have been replaced by new ones; after all, the winds of “nerditry” bring change!):


ONE HUNDRED
Amazingly, this is the 100th David’s Desk. Frankly, when I began writing these essays nine years ago, I had no idea they would last as long as they have. Nor do I have plans to stop. After all, in another nine years, we’ll reach 200. Maybe I’ll retire then!

I’ve been thinking what topic—what jewels of wisdom—would be suitable to celebrate reaching 100.  A number of thoughts came to mind, but none quite seemed what I wanted. Then it occurred to me. I should just show you what my actual desk looks like!

David’s desk

David’s desk

Here my nerdy geekness and love of movies, fantasy, superheroes, and science fiction are on full display. On the left stands my Gandalf the Grey bobblehead, followed by Sunshine Care Bear (a favorite of mine from when our children were little), Joy (from the movie Inside Out—I mean who doesn’t want a little Joy in their lives?), Chewbacca and Hans Solo from Star Wars, an Elven maiden warrior stepping out of a castle door, Yoda, Dr. Strange (Marvel Comics’ Master of the Mystic Arts—obviously a role model!), Storm (also a Marvel superhero, a woman who can control the weather—always handy in the Pacific Northwest), a Viking (a gift from my friend Søren in Denmark), a small Bear stone, and finally Gandalf the White bobblehead.

These figures are each meaningful to me in one way or another, usually by representing something important to me in the realms of myth and archetype from which inspiration often comes. But mostly I love them for their playfulness. I am basically a whimsical fellow.

On the screen is an aerial view of Issaquah, the town where I live, taken by my oldest son John-Michael one beautiful summer day when he was paragliding off one of the foothills of the Cascade Mountain range. The large lake is Lake Sammamish which is a five minute walk from our home. Oh, and yes, that is a Yoda bobblehead on top of the monitor.

Revealing the true David’s Desk may give you some insights into the strange workings of my mind, at the risk of discouraging you from wanting anything more to do with me! I hope, though, it will encourage you to stick with me for another nine years, and to appreciate the icons, the myths, the heroes, and the whimsy that are part of your lives.


With this stroll down memory lane, I wish you a wonderful and delightfully foolish and blessed month of April. I’ll see you in May!

Meeting the Sidhe

by Jane Ellen Combelic

Over the last ten years at Findhorn, I have occasionally studied Incarnational Spirituality with Freya Secrest, Mary Inglis, Judy McAllister and others, including David Spangler via video link. Every year when Freya came from the States I signed up for her workshops. Last year, in September, the workshop was called “Holding Wholeness” and for the first time her husband Jeremy Berg was one of the teachers.

It was on the third day, when Jeremy did his part, that I first encountered the Sidhe. One day that changed everything.

We were sitting, about thirty of us, in a circle in the Upper Community Centre. The moment I saw the oversized Sidhe cards Jeremy was setting out around the central candle, something stirred deep in my soul. As I caught a glimpse of images of stones, I felt a shivering in my heart, the same thrill I feel in a medieval church or an ancient shrine—an expansion into the mind of God.

Jeremy laid out the Stone Circle of the Sidhe and guided us in a series of visualizations. When I closed my eyes, I saw distinct images and heard messages totally relevant to my own journey. I know that I have a vivid imagination, but this was of a different order.

The first image that came to me, as Jeremy guided us to the Howe or central altar, was a small round female figure, perhaps an elder, who emanated serenity and warmth. At the Gateway to the Earth I saw an immense horse. I put my hand on its pale flank and felt its physical strength coursing through me. At the Gateway to the Dawn, feeling some fear about the horse and vowing not to be afraid, I heard the gift that is mine to give is the gift of non-fear. I didn’t want to leave the Gateway of Stars, where I knew that I would use my voice to share my vision and speak truth to power.

I felt accompanied, protected, affirmed. In the last visualization, the Gateway of Twilight, I saw myself walking along a stream with a Sidhe at either hand, all three of us dancing and laughing. I was totally there.

How can I describe the joy, the sense of partnership, the feeling of completion? For the first time in my life I felt whole, as if long-missing parts of me had been restored.

Filled with excitement I shared my story with the group; to my delight they lit up as I spoke, receiving and reflecting my joy and inspiration. My whole body vibrated with power, my skin tingled.

I knew viscerally that I had crossed some kind of threshold.

It wasn’t easy, though, to integrate such a deep transformation. Over the following weeks and months I had trouble finding the ground under my feet. Everything had shifted. How did this amazing experience fit in with my ordinary life?

Everything had shifted, yet nothing had changed. In many ways I doubted my own experience. It had felt real, and yet it wasn’t real in our consensual reality. I approached several elders for guidance, and some of them helped me understand and accept this new reality. Still, I didn’t know what to do with it. The best advice I got, from friend and colleague Adele Napier, was to put one foot in front of the other. Not think about it too much, just allow it to unfold. But no one could walk this path for me.

Meanwhile, the Sidhe continue to visit me when I seek them in my imagination. I don’t see anything; it is more a felt sense of presence, a beautiful knowingness, a joy in being alive. My sensory perceptions are heightened and everything shimmers with luminosity, every blade of grass glimmers and glows. When I invite them into my body, I feel a tingling in every cell, an intensity of sensation that’s just delicious.

First, however, I need to be fully present in my body. This, for me, is sometimes accompanied by grief, the sorrow of everything that is lost, in my personal history and for us as a species. It is my own and it is the existential loneliness of being human. When I really feel the grief, I drop through it into love. My heart is broken open. It is from that soft and sovereign space that I can connect with the Sidhe.

Sometimes my mind throws up doubts. Yet affirmation comes in many forms. Just today, for instance, as I was writing those words, I came across this message in an email from Michael Lipson, a student of both David Spangler and Rudolf Steiner, and a wonderful teacher in his own right:

"We invoke these energies [of pain and misery], because they help us bring our tender human presence to the table, and with it our ability to notice and be changed by the unexpected. We want our hearts to be unguarded, open, vulnerable.... This radical availability lets us meet and endure the presence of beings and energies from unseen parts of the world."

The solutions to all of humanity’s problems, especially the climate crisis, will come to us from another dimension, from Gaia herself, in ways we cannot fathom with our intellectual thinking. That is another insight that came to me during Jeremy’s guided meditation.

The Sidhe, our long-lost cousins, want to help us, if we will only learn to listen.

When I listen now, what I often here is something like this: “Be still. Slow down. Feel what you feel. Be on the earth.” The coronavirus, though it has brought much suffering and chaos, also brought the gift of last spring’s Great Pause. Who could have imagined commerce shutting down, airplanes grounded, city centers empty, roads nearly free of vehicles? People stayed home, sang from their windows, spent a precious hour every day out in nature. The skies cleared, we could breathe fresh air and hear the glorious singing of the birds.

With the added presence of the Sidhe, my life took on a radiance I had never known. I often walked in Roseisle Forest and onto the beach of the Moray Firth. Every leaf, every fern, every pine tree shimmered with inner light. Surrounded by magic, I felt a deep peace. When I encountered someone, I smiled, knowing that we were all facing the same predicament. I relished that sense of oneness, that stillness and slowness.

Once life started going back to “normal,” it was harder for me to tap into that. Now I find myself getting busier, attending all kinds of wonderful events on Zoom, meeting friends when I can. Life has speeded up again. Sadly, my connection with the Sidhe has dimmed over time. Yet when I enjoy the beauty of nature, or fall into grief and despair at the unraveling of our world, and really feel it, love opens up. My heart softens, my mind slows, my body grows still. When I call on them, the Sidhe are always there. They bring guidance, comfort, joy and hope. And more than anything, companionship.

I am not alone. We are not alone. And everything we need is right here.



David's Desk #166 Stick Figures

David's Desk is my opportunity to share thoughts and tools for the spiritual journey. These letters are my personal insights and opinions and do not necessarily reflect the sentiments or thoughts of any other person in Lorian or of Lorian as a whole. If you wish to share this blog post with others, please feel free to do so; however, the material is ©2021 by David Spangler.

I have always envied people who can draw. That a person can use pencil, pen, paper, and colors to replicate the world—or invent new ones—seems magical to me. They say a picture is worth a thousand words. It’s a trade I’d love to make.

Not that I mind writing. I’m grateful that I can translate my thoughts into words that others can comprehend. But I often work with topics that are abstract and, frankly, hard to put into words. It is easier (and often more fun) to try to illustrate them. My drawing skills, though—or lack of them—limit me to stick figures, like these:

david stick figure.jpg

Over the years, my “Smiley Soul” (cloud with face) and “Mr. Stick Man” have become well known to people in my classes. I’ve even managed to insert them into some of my books: my willingness to demonstrate my lack of talent in this area knows no bounds! I have to admit, though, that I’ve become fond of them. For those willing to stretch their imaginations, they’ve even served their purpose in communicating the ideas for which they have been pressed into service.

In fact, their very simplicity holds a certain charm. It can even be an asset. No one is going to linger over my illustrations in appreciation and wonder at their artistic merit (“Note that clever turn of line, that delicate shading!”). They are going to get the point I wish to make and then move on.

In fact, as a fan of the science cartoonist Randell Monroe and his webcomic XKCD, I’m aware of just how amazingly funny and communicative stick figures can be! (Though I always feel that, even though made with the same economy of lines and lack of dimension, his stick figures are more artistic than mine; they’re certainly more successful!) If you’re not familiar with him or with XKCD, I hope my mentioning them will lead you to Google them and from that, to much joy and laughter, though you may have to be a science nerd to fully appreciate some of his humor.

Useful as stick figures can be, mine included, they still lack dimension. They represent a minimalist approach that can be appropriate and even desirable for some purposes. But they don’t represent a way to look at life. (Note the clever segue here to the point I wish to make in this essay…)

Stick figures belong on a page (especially in the skilled hands of someone like Munroe), but they create problems if they become a lens through which we look at life. They lack more than one dimension. Not that we see other people as actual stick figures populating our world, at least I hope we don’t! But we can, and do, often see people in one-dimensional ways that fail to perceive the complexity and depths in each of us.

Right now, our country and our world are suffering from an unwillingness or an inability to see each other in our fullness. We see each other as labels, as names, as stereotypes that reduce us to caricatures of who we are and deny us dimensionality. What else is this but seeing each other as stick figures?

The challenge here is that reducing a person to one dimension also reduces the possibilities of finding areas of connection. By making someone else a stick figure in our imagination, we make ourselves a stick figure, too. We close our eyes to just how many-sided and multi-dimensional we all are.

A friend of mine tells a story of being evacuated from his home during one of the recent wildfires here in the West. A progressive liberal by inclination, he lives in a rural area filled with people who are anything but: “MAGA-land,” as he puts it. Yet, when he and his family were allowed to come home, he discovered that his Trump-supporting neighbors, who had refused to evacuate, had guarded and protected his house and land, had cared for animals he’d been forced to leave behind. He was no stick-figure called a “liberal” to them; he was their neighbor.

The future is going to depend on our ability to cooperate and help each other, to discover how to be neighbors. This means being willing and capable of seeing each other past the labels which we might attach to each other. It means recognizing that none of us are stick figures.

Unlike my drawings.