In the Spirit of Dancing Shoes

By Freya Secrest

A delightful part of my understanding of a Living Universe is that there are no boundaries to Life; the vital spark of sacredness moves through everyone and everything. But how far does that really extend? In my own experience and for others such as Dorothy Maclean, it extends even into the man-made world.  Here is one of Dorothy’s early (unpublished) meditations from her inner guidance:

Now, you would tune into the spirit of shoes…a spirit with many facets. Dancing shoes take a bow before you. Work boots plod before you – Chinese clogs, athlete’s flying movements, high-heeled daintinesses. Can it speak? Oh, volumes! A shoe serves so many purposes – and without thanks! Shoes protect, make possible your movements, warm you, conduct the earth essences into your body and back again, give you color, finish the outward whole.

Give thanks for your shoes. Next time you polish them, think of them as living things and be grateful. This is a tiny aspect of your life which you take for granted. Take nothing for granted. This is part of My divine life, serving you. Mankind has use of all God’s gifts for your purposes, but when you give thanks in the doing, the Spirit of Life itself is lifted.

By appreciating the role each thing fulfills, its form and function in the world, and the energy that went into its making, we open the door to the mysteries of an inter-related, living universe. It is not a mystical, energetic fantasy but practical service appreciated in its relationship to the world that introduces us to the heart and soul of an object and establishes its livingness. As Dorothy’s message points out, even man-made things like shoes are part of this livingness of our universe, bringing their uniquely created purpose into action, action that enhances the flow of all life as it moves in the world.

We as human beings can enhance that flow of life but it is a role which we are now only beginning to understand. Our attention, directed toward an appreciation of the form, pattern and purpose in the things around us, energizes the life force in the world we touch. I remember one experience I had with a cherry wood floor my husband and I installed in our home. After the installation was completed, I was sitting on the couch and admiring the floor – its color in the sunshine, the pattern of the wood grain in each board. I felt uplifted by its beauty. For a moment I felt my spirit of appreciation was received and returned. There was a blessing exchanged that enhanced both the floor and myself. Over the years the floor was often noticed and appreciated, touching many who walked in that room, and it continues to add a glow of beauty to every family gathering and meeting held there.

It is not hard to appreciate beauty, and not a big step to appreciate those things we find useful or delightful as an expression of the sacredness of life. By so doing we enhance the flow of aliveness in our world.  Who would think it could be that easy?

Would you like to explore your energetic partnership with our "living universe"? Refine your skills of subtle perception and connection? Our six week online class, "Working with Subtle Energies", begins on May 9. (There's a free teleclass on May 4.) Click here for more information or to sign up.

Sacred Impulse We Call Love

By Drena Griffith

Last week blog writer Susan Beal wrote about her experience sharing a recent post with someone who reacted strongly against it. Some might ask, "isn’t criticism surely inevitable?" Of course, but this scenario led me to consider our presence before the world.

It seems to me that Incarnational Spirituality openly challenges the “master story” of our human existence. Our foundation is not that humanity results from inherent sin or that earth is a penal colony where we work off eons of bad karma. In spite of our very real challenges and particular flaws, Lorian posits that human life on Earth results from a primal call-- which is not to penance; rather it's to the sacred impulse we call Love.

Yet one part of the dialogue that Susan shared with me privately--the woman’s passionate objection not only to Sue’s worldview, but also to viewing love as a genuine force in a sentient world in general, seemed particularly significant to me— and worthy of thoughtful response.

As I listen to some of the cynicism that passes as rational thought in my own immediate circles, I can see such resistance is, sadly, not that far from normal. Beneath frustration, intolerance and resistance often lies the indignity of loss. Loss of innocence. Loss of faith. Loss of sovereign identity. Loss of the most fundamental recognition of Love as our birthright.

Some decades ago, as a fledgling evangelical, a verse by singer-songwriter and Ragamuffin mystic Rich Mullins hinted to me of this understanding: “Let mercy lead. Let love be the strength in your legs and in every footprint that you leave there’ll be a drop of grace.”

Even then, I could gently feel the grace in the footsteps of people walking the earth with such intention. It seemed clear to me that love wasn't just a feeling or emotional response: it was an energetic exchange, a genuflection: it was how we should approach everything in our world, from our shoes and our steering wheels to our house plants, our food and our neighbors.

So, often as I stood in line at the grocery store or walked around town, I'd intentionally catch the eye of a stranger and smile. Even if that person looked upset or distracted, they nearly always came back from some buried place within themselves to meet me, grin to grin. And our smiles often lingered a while afterward. Reciprocity had taken place. We exchanged kindnesses, albeit briefly, and the world was lighter, if only by minuscule, scientifically immeasurable degrees. It wasn't that much of a stretch for me to envision other elements of our vibrant world--a field full of trees, an ant or a bird, a blade of grass, responding in kind. No, granules of earth, plants and insects never smiled at me, but they nourished and supported me— and I them— in other ways. 

Having said that, it was a lot harder to practice offering this kind of attention to other people in more active ways. I realize now that the trouble I had living from that centered place then lay not in my understanding of love so much as my overall understanding of myself as a human being. In spite of the desire to bless, support and nurture, I always reached a point where I could relate only through scars, the shame of being born into a world where I felt flawed and innately out of step. I’d been taught to call this dichotomy “the nature of sin.” That explanation was never satisfactory, really. But at that time I didn’t have any alternatives that made more sense. (Incarnational Spirituality only reached me after many years of spiritual yearning and dissatisfaction.)

So, given my internal struggles, I can definitely understand skepticism over viewing love in this manner. And given the way human beings have often treated each other throughout history, I have wondered how certain groups of people have any faith in humanity left. It certainly doesn’t help that spiritual expressions of love sometimes come across as judgmental of those who don’t share those same views or are so utterly ungrounded that they have no basis in reality whatsoever. (Sometimes I cannot help cringing when I see the lengths people will go to to in order to interact with subtle beings or "the God within" while simultaneously ignoring the real, palpable needs of human beings they’ve tuned out in the process.)

Of course, we're all works- in- process with embodying our ideals of love, but perhaps it would be helpful to clarify an Incarnational understanding. David Spangler, in David's Desk 52:Loving, offers the following definition:

"Love isn’t an emotion; it’s not about attraction, acceptance, approval, or even affection. Rather, I think of it as an act of nourishment, a way of holding another so that that other’s unique character and identity can find its wholeness and an empowering expression of that wholeness in a collaborative connection with creation as a whole. It empowers participation as an individuality in the essential sacredness of creation.

Love is freeing, not binding, but it is an act that empowers connection: connection with oneself, connection with others, connection with the world, connection with possibility and potential, connection with the Sacred. This connection is one in which each participant can thrive and unfold in safety within themselves, in their relationships, and in what they offer to the world. It is a partnering connection in which each is a gift to the other demanding nothing in return. As such, love reveals and expresses the ultimate Gift through which the Sacred gives itself that the universe may exist and unfold. Each act of love replicates to some degree that primal Gift."

As I read David's words, I cannot help wondering how this understanding of love could impact our communities, our natural world? To attune to the “essence of love” and to orient ourselves within a world capable of offering this love back requires a new paradigm of relatedness and wholeness. Starting where we are, with our unique challenges and resistances, we choose to enact this sacred impulse. 
Of course this doesn’t mean we all sit around the fire together singing “Kum-ba-ya.” One day love may prompt us to stand up, stand against injustice, or say no to someone we care for; another time it might ask us to soften our reactions and tend our own wounds, and even one afternoon to take our restless, aching heart to the land and listen to the wisdom of a Hawthorn tree.

This understanding of love grounded in sovereignty (rather than shame) nourishes me in hours of darkest need. It offers a foundation that allows me to stand as a sacred being choosing, as often as possible, an open hand rather than a closed fist. And for those times when loving the unwelcome within others or within myself seems an impossible task, I acknowledge my resistance. But this doesn't mean I give into the discomfort. Instead, I trust my own sacred intentions and whenever I'm able to, I relax my clenched fingers one motion at a time. In this way even the process of loving becomes a partnership (and life certainly gives me plenty of opportunities to practice!)

This is my personal understanding of the sacred Incarnational impulse we call Love. I do believe enacting this viewpoint could transform every facet of our world, but I'm choosing to concentrate on the one closest to me—my own. It may seem a limited viewpoint to some, but over the years I’ve come to a realization best summarized by a passage from Bette Green’s Summer of my German Soldier:

“You don’t believe in religion or education or psychiatry…Is there anything at all you do believe in?”

“Of course…. I believe that love is better than hate. And that there is more nobility in building a chicken coop than in destroying a cathedral.”

Views from the Lorian Community publishes essays from a team of volunteer writers expressing individual experiences of a long term, committed practice of Incarnational Spirituality (and the general principles shaping such a practice.) If you wish to share how your life has benefited from your relationship with Lorian and IS, please email the editor at drenag@lorian.org. We prefer submissions between 700-900 words. We rarely accept previously published material (including blog posts.) We also reserve the right to edit or decline your submission. Any accepted submissions will be published in the order that best fits our schedule.

Spiritual Mediation

By Susan Beal

I had an intense experience a couple of weeks ago, when someone in my writer's group reacted very negatively to a piece I wrote for this blog. Her reaction was not about the writing itself, but the spiritually-oriented tone of the piece. Part of the difficulty for me was that she’s a Holocaust survivor. I felt hobbled by compassion, partly because it was apparent to me this trauma had a lot to do with her reaction. So I tried to listen, to draw her out, and to hold space for the conversation in a spirit of openness and acceptance. But the increasing virulence of her response broadsided me and finally rendered me mute. It took me more than a week and a lot of subtle energy work to regain my equilibrium.

On the surface, the discussion appeared civil—no raised voices, an even exchange of thoughts and opinions, a conversational tone. But under the surface, it was a very different story. Energetically it felt violent, as if the fears from her experiences as a child were being unleashed, and I was their target.

For me, it inflamed many of the doubts I’ve had about just how, when, and to whom to express the worldview that Lorian represents, as well as how to practically apply Incarnational Spirituality in a world that largely dismisses the existence of the spiritual and subtle realms. While I have always been something of a mystic, I have also always been in the closet about it. I have not revealed that side of myself to the majority of my friends and family. I rarely share stories about my inner guides and contacts, my clairvoyant journeys and experiences, or my studies in Incarnational Spirituality and geomancy. As my geomantic teacher said, we have to be careful about what we say “lest we return to the burning times.”

Those are strong words, but even though we’ve left behind the literal burnings of centuries ago, the intolerance is still very much with us. The woman in my writer's group is not alone in her perspective. In fact, I suspect she is in the majority, maybe not in the strength of her views, but in the gist of them. She seemed to feel it was her duty to stamp out such irrational ignorance, to let me know I was on the slippery slope to evil—the kind of evil represented by Nazism.

In the most recent, April issue of Scientific American, the Skeptic column entitled “The True Meaning of BS” references a study on people’s susceptibility to bullshit. The authors of the study were testing the hypothesis that “higher intelligence and a superior analytical cognitive style…leads to a greater capacity to detect and reject pretentious BS.” The study apparently revealed that “those most receptive to pseudo-profound BS are also more prone to conspiratorial ideation, are more likely to hold religious and paranormal beliefs, and are more likely to endorse complementary and alternative medicine.’ ”

It’s ironic, of course, that reactions like the one from the woman in my group are hardly calm rational, and analytical. Instead, they are as fixed and emotionally charged as any religious fundamentalist's, and seem freighted with more than a little fear. I’ve noticed that oftentimes those most violently opposed to spiritual topics and “unscientific” approaches have a deep wound or trauma in their past that influenced their beliefs about the world. It’s as if by denying the reality of anything unprovable in a laboratory, they are shutting the door on a painful past—or at least trying to. 

The thing is, the subtle world exists, whether or not we believe in it, and it is impacted by our traumas and conflicts. Conflict, despite its outer, physical manifestations, is largely a phenomenon of the subtle world, fueled by values, emotions, and energetic dynamics that have a negative impact on the psychic landscape. Unresolved trauma and conflict are to the subtle world what pollution and toxic waste are to the physical environment.

I’m sure everyone reading this knows people who are not only dubious about but actively intolerant of spiritual outlooks, and for whom something like Incarnational Spirituality, with its talk of subtle energies and spiritual beings, is a danger to be stamped out. With such folks it rarely works to agree to disagree, as I experienced. Even if physics has begun to recognize and accept the weirdness and seemingly magical properties of the universe, there will always be those for whom “science” is a shield rather than an open-minded inquiry, and skepticism an excuse to reject what is beyond one’s comfortable control.

The problem is, if we stick to preaching to the choir, or keeping quiet until it’s safe to speak again, it’s difficult to bridge the gap and move toward greater understanding and wholeness.

So what’s to be done?

I was ordained as a Lorian priest last summer. I also have a Master’s degree in Conflict Resolution, though I have not been in practice as a mediator in some time. I know that the call I felt toward ordination and the call I felt toward mediation are the same call. It is the desire and willingness to steward the in-between places, the zone where differences come up against each other, the birthplace of both creativity and conflict. It’s the place between boundaries, between identities and mapped out areas, where the potential for transformation is greatest, but so is the potential for violence and destruction. It’s an area of great power and sensitivity, where the smallest influence can have enormous impacts for good or ill.

In a good mediation, there is a moment when the energy shifts from conflict to cooperation. It’s palpable. The parties begin to work together, putting their efforts, often excitedly, into working together rather than opposing each other. If they take it far enough, it leads to forgiveness and reconciliation. I think of that shift as the holy moment, the moment when light and love get the upper hand and my work as a mediator is largely done.

To me, Incarnational Spirituality in general, and Lorian priesthood in particular, is about actively cultivating that same dynamic, that moment when love, or at least acceptance, transforms separateness into wholeness, and everything grows brighter and more hopeful. Wholeness, or holopoiesis, as I understand it, is not only the bringing together of disparate elements into a collaborative partnership, it is also the reconciliation of opposites, the acceptance and integration of the dark and difficult shadow stuff—all those things that have been rejected, denied, misunderstood, and feared. It is extremely challenging work, and sometimes it seems impossible.

But as incarnate human beings, we are mediators by design. Our ability to move between, hold, assimilate and synthesize very different energies and vibrations, from the material all the way up to the celestial, is fundamental to our humanness. It is mediation in its ultimate manifestation. It is a gift, but it is also a burden, because our ability to span this wide gap comes with the responsibility to do so. Otherwise, we are not living up to our potential and are, in fact, denying our call as incarnate human beings.

It’s a tall order, and there is no pithy answer or easy path toward achieving it. Sometimes we’re called on to take outward action in the face of conflict or injustice, and sometimes subtle activism or inner work is more appropriate, even if just to balance our own reactions.

But ultimately, I think, the most powerful thing we can do is to simply be awake and present to the circumstances of our lives with as much love as we can muster.

Thank God our time is now
when wrong comes up to meet us everywhere
never to leave us till we take, the greatest stride of the soul
man ever took.
affairs are now soul size
the enterprise is exploration unto God.
Where are you making for?
It takes so many thousand years to wake.
But will you wake for pity's sake?

Christopher Fry

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Views from the Lorian Community publishes essays from a team of volunteer writers expressing individual experiences of a long term, committed practice of Incarnational Spirituality (and the general principles shaping such a practice.) If you wish to share how your life has benefited from your relationship with Lorian and IS, please email the editor at drenag@lorian.org. We prefer submissions between 700-900 words. We rarely accept previously published material (including blog posts.) We also reserve the right to edit or decline your submission. Any accepted submissions will be published in the order that best fits our schedule.

Blog Updates-April

March Recap

During the month of March, Views from the Lorian Community featured blog posts on the topics of inner hearing and inner knowing, landsense and the sacred mystery inherent in our call to participate in"a living universe." The column, Conversations with Lorian, focused on the current state of politics in the US and how we, as proponents of an Incarnational Spirituality, respond to these challenges. Freya Secrest's column, The Living Universe, received an upgrade and now has its own page on our website

Additionally, some of David Spangler's out of print reflections will now be available in our new feature, From The Archives.

Here are links to (and excerpts from) the March posts:

The Inner Voice by Claire Blatchford:

“Inner hearing” has always been crucial in my life— particularly as I’m deaf and can’t always manage by way of a hearing aid (used for over 50 years, and now, more recently, a cochlear implant.) When I share this conviction people often ask, “Can one hear and converse with spiritual beings in the same way one hears and converses with people?” My response is “Yes!” But I think it’s important to realize conversing with spiritual or subtle beings, as with human beings, occurs in many ways and on many levels, not just in words as we know them..."

From The Archives: Power All Prophecies Must Bow Before

"Over the decades David Spangler has written numerous articles, books and instructional material for classes. Currently 27 of David’s books can be purchased in the Lorian Bookstore (he is most prolific!) but what of the wealth of resources no longer in print or readily available? “From the Archives” will feature excerpts from some of these lost treasures–gleaning past insights from David’s vast experience as spiritual leader, teacher and scientist of the subtle realms. Some of these teachings pertain to specific past events, yet they are still relevant. The more the world changes, the more it seems we need to be reminded of our core sacredness. So, in that sense, David’s words are timeless..."

Hawthorns and Landsense by Susan Beal:

"I walked up the hill without any particular destination in mind, heartbroken about a conflict over potential futures for our family land. It had opened old wounds, and made me doubt myself and my ability to deal with all the issues in question. My heart literally ached, not so much physically as emotionally, my chest tight with the pain of old sorrows. But the sun was bright and the air was warm which was wonderful all by itself, being the first hint of Spring after the long winter. The brooks were full as they sparkled and surged down from the woods through the pastures, and I could hear bluebirds, sparrows and titmice calling from the trees. As I walked up the farm road, the pastures and hayfields opened out to either side of me and I could feel my mood opening out too...."

The Living Universe: Mystery of the Living Universe by Freya Secrest:

"I see the universe as alive. Everything in it has life and intelligence. In my definition, if something is living it changes and it grows. A living universe is also co-participatory; it engages and responds, requiring that I stand with honor and respect for myself and my fellow participants. We all have something unique to offer each other. The living universe shapes a field that is more than what I can do by myself.

Seeing the universe in this way represents for me a perspective on life that is pivotal for the future of our planet..."

The Inner Hears The Outer by Mary Reddy:

"I recently emerged from long weeks of a persistent bronchial illness. Though I had to continue working from home throughout most of it, once off work I retreated to bed, read fantasy novels, drank tea, then slept for inordinately long stretches! When I got better, I felt as though I had journeyed out of Hades along with Persephone to welcome spring—blinking and rubbing my eyes a bit to find myself back in the vibrant stream of daily life.

Itching to write again, I found myself staring at a blank page. It teased me with too many possibilities. Life themes swirled in my head and none of them landed safely to ground my thoughts into words. I took a break, settled my busy mind, and meditated. And in that moment of quiet being, I heard an inner voice say, 'the inner listens to the outer...'"

At Home with the Sacred by Julie Spangler:

"A friend asked me: “Have you ever felt lost or estranged from God?” I do remember times in my early life when I felt separated from the Sacred, longing for union with the divine. When we are young it seems our work is to step into life, rather than seek to move out into numinous spaces; and being embodied is to be an individual and thus to feel apart. For me, there was definitely both an innate sense of connection to the world and also a sense of separation..."

Conversations with Lorian—America the Beautiful (Part 1 of 2) by Annabel Chiarelli and Jeremy Berg:

"This political season has been especially rife with emotions that have been simmering for a long time, heating them to a near boiling point: frustration with current political structures and “the establishment”; anger at having been let down and economically pushed aside; anger at the “1%”; anger at Blacks, Muslims, Mexicans, gays, immigrants and poor people; anger at oil companies, industrial agriculture, big pharma, and other corporate entities; fear of terrorism; fear of shootings; fear of gun laws; fear of a mounting authoritarianism and unthinking mob mentality that seems to chillingly parallel the rise of fascism in the 1930’s.

I’ve mixed views from different parts of the political spectrum in the above list, but beyond ideological polarities they all stem from the same ground of human vulnerability and a sense of victimization..." (Annabel Chiarelli)

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"Recently I awoke from a deep dream in which I was singing America the Beautiful along with several others. It was a very moving and heartfelt chorus that I felt was being sung as an antidote to the current political and social upheaval in our country. The song has an interesting history....To me this is a song of the soul of the United States of America. It is full of the love of the land, nature and our founding ideals; Brotherhood, Grace, Soul, Freedom, Virtue, and noble Dreams..." (Jeremy Berg)

Conversations with Lorian—Election Fog (Part 2 of 2) by Carole Matthews:

"Incarnational Spirituality provides a perspective which allows me to take a softer approach to politics. I think it is a more loving stance, even in the face of greatly opposing forces. For instance, part of my practice is to intentionally remove myself from the constant noise the media presents. I have two goals in doing so: I don’t want to add to the noise and hyped-up energy, and I’d like to concentrate on the issues rather than the continuous back and forth. I try to be somewhat of an observer, seeking to be more mental than emotional during this highly charged time—not an easy thing to do this year..."

Many thanks to all readers, subscribers and followers on Facebook. Special thanks to guest writer Carole Matthews, whose blog post received the following response from a Facebook friend: "This expresses wisdom wide and deep--not a religion, not a sect, always searching for truth and balance, the Lorian Association is a bright light with wise concern for the whole planet."

April

This month the blog will explore a range of topics: our relationship with the wider world, as well as our connection with parts of our natural and "built" environments.

Also, there are three classes beginning this month: At Home with the Sidhe taught by Jeremy Berg (class filled--if interested, please write info@lorian.org to be placed on the waiting list); Surfing a Wave of Conflict, a political forum led by David Spangler; and Journey Into Fire, taught by Julie Spangler and Susan Sherman. These are wonderful opportunities for us to deepen our practices of Incarnational Spirituality with others of like minds and hearts! Hope you'll join us!

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Views from the Lorian Community publishes essays from a team of volunteer writers expressing individual experiences of a long term, committed practice of Incarnational Spirituality (and the general principles shaping such a practice.) If you wish to share how your life has benefited from your relationship with Lorian and IS, please email the editor at drenag@lorian.org. We prefer submissions between 700-900 words. We rarely accept previously published material (including blog posts.) We also reserve the right to decline or to edit your submission. Any accepted submissions will be published in the order that best fits our topic schedule.

Conversations with Lorian: Election Fog (Part 2 of 2)

 By Carole Matthews

How does one hold balance and advocate for sacredness in our current (US) political environment? How can people work together and respect each other when many disagree about what this country needs and who should lead us going forward? What tools does Incarnational Spirituality offer in this tumultuous time?

Incarnational Spirituality provides a perspective which allows me to take a softer approach to politics. I think it is a more loving stance, even in the face of greatly opposing forces. For instance, part of my practice is to intentionally remove myself from the constant noise the media presents. I have two goals in doing so: I don’t want to add to the noise and hyped-up energy, and I’d like to concentrate on the issues rather than the continuous back and forth. I try to be somewhat of an observer, seeking to be more mental than emotional during this highly charged time—not an easy thing to do this year.

The chaotic process of our elections, of course, is a natural consequence: how could we all possibly agree? We are a multi-cultural, multi-racial, multi-language, multi-religious country—each group forming a part of who we are as a nation. As we individually and as groups become more aware of our freedoms and rights, we find our voices to demand them. This is a good thing.

In addition, we are in a period of great change. Our world today is not the same as it was even 10 years ago with the globalization of resources (including labor), technological advances, immigration issues, climate changes, and energy challenges—our future is uncertain. Everyone in the world is struggling to understand and address the current great changes. Much of our American turmoil is about these greater changes and how we as a country handle them.

In America we search for that specific national candidate that holds closest to what we, collectively as a nation, want to hear. We seek someone who can lead us through this tumultuous time. The chaotic process we go through every four years is how our many voices find our leader—and in doing so, we establish our national identity (our face) for that point in time.

There is a deeper force at work which I think of as our Incarnational Intent—at both individual and national levels. This soul-inspired impulse has urged each of us to be who we are. When we incarnated at this time and place, we came with a particular soul-intent. That, along with our lifetime experiences, gave us our unique voice. I believe that most of the voices we hear in the chaos are not here by accident: they are intentional incarnations, just as we are. Most Americans love America; we just have different visions of what it should be. Some voices we may believe are of a “higher” calling, more intelligent, more discerning. But I think that this might be a bit arrogant. Having been on various sides of the political spectrum, I feel that there is truth in almost all voices. For sure these voices speak to their own lifetime experiences, which are not to be dismissed. This belief that all voices have a right to be heard and respected and a place at the table allows me to relax and listen a bit deeper.

I’ve found that humor is one of the best tools I use to keep myself centered, especially since this is a very serious election and there are serious issues on the line. When I can remove myself from the immediate chaos and find space, I can find humor in the process. For instance, think about the flip-flopping the various candidates have done. I could be very indignant at such behavior, or I could see the humorous scrambles by the candidates to try to convince us that they, with great wisdom and insight, have changed their minds. (I’m not saying that they have not done so, just pointing out the humor in trying to convince skeptical voters.)

I am reminded that our evolutionary path is uneven. Sometimes we cannot push forward until we have seemingly gone backward. Something is released, something new emerges. Sometimes the letting go and emergence of something new cannot happen until a shift occurs or we are forced to reexamine (perhaps many times) what we may need to release. As a nation, we need to agree that something new must emerge or it will not happen as quickly. I recently read an excellent blog by Rebecca Solnit that speaks of the need for a period of gestation. You may find this here: https://www.brainpickings.org/2016/03/16/rebecca-solnit-hope-in-the-dark-2/. So understanding the back and forth of our path forward allows me to accept that sometimes I don’t get all that I want. Sometimes it is necessary to breathe into the result and allow it to be what it will be. I need to remind myself that I can’t always know what will best serve the country in the longer run.

However, I don’t need to stand in fear about what may come and I don’t need to be a passive listener. At some point in the process, I will come to a decision about which candidate I will support. Even though I may not agree with all their points, I will have priorities about which issues really matter to me. Then I will try to come to a clear place, and take whichever actions support that place. This may be to contribute to that campaign, to sponsor fund-raising events, to attend rallies, maybe just talk to friends about my decision. But it will always include holding a clear vision of my choice of America and the World during my meditations and asking for help from subtle world allies to support that vision. I don’t ask for a specific result, but that the American and World vision be supported, since I admit I may not have that longer term understanding of which candidate America (and the World) needs at the moment.

I can do this because of my deep trust in the American process and in its place in the world. I believe that the incarnational intent of the nation is strong and true, and will endure. Since becoming a nation, we have always strived to live up to the challenge of our constitution, a back and forth process, but always leading us deeper into what it means to be a free and equal people. I hold within myself the fiery hope that Americans will always choose the leader, and therefore the path forward, most needed at this time.

Have more questions about how the principles of Incarnational Spirituality can help us individually and collectively cope with the turbulence and violence of our current political climate? Beginning April 18, David Spangler will be leading a week-long online Forum, “Surfing a Wave of Conflict”, which will explore some of the inner causes of our current socio-political unrest and how we can hold our hurting society in “compassion, healing and wholeness.” For more information or to sign up, please look here.

Conversations with Lorian: America the Beautiful (Part 1 of 2)

Essays by Annabel Chiarelli and Jeremy Berg

How does one hold balance and advocate for sacredness in our current (US) political environment? How can people work together and respect each other when many disagree about what this country needs and who should lead us going forward? What tools does Incarnational Spirituality offer in this tumultuous time?

This political season has been especially rife with emotions that have been simmering for a long time, heating them to a near boiling point: frustration with current political structures and “the establishment”; anger at having been let down and economically pushed aside; anger at the “1%”; anger at Blacks, Muslims, Mexicans, gays, immigrants and poor people; anger at oil companies, industrial agriculture, big pharma, and other corporate entities; fear of terrorism; fear of shootings; fear of gun laws; fear of a mounting authoritarianism and unthinking mob mentality that seems to chillingly parallel the rise of fascism in the 1930’s.

I’ve mixed views from different parts of the political spectrum in the above list, but beyond ideological polarities they all stem from the same ground of human vulnerability and a sense of victimization.

As long as we focus on attributing power or evil or manipulative genius to the “other,” we will feel disempowered and be stuck fighting each other over who the bigger victim is, attributing the ability to solve all of our problems to whoever our favored candidate is. As long as we meet other people's anger and hatred with anger and loathing of our own, the negative emotions that have led to the current political situation will continue to fester, regardless of whatever political victory is achieved in the short run.

Both outer work and inner work are vital and intertwined aspects to addressing these issues to work toward greater balance, empowerment, and sacredness. The outer work includes civil, inclusive discourse and finding common ground for the greater good, which can be addressed by techniques such as non-violent communication, active listening, deep democracy, world cafés, etc. It can be as simple as spending time talking with a friend, colleague or neighbor to try and connect your common humanity. You're unlikely to be able to reason people out of political views based in primal emotion, but just the attempt to listen to opposing views while infusing the situation with love and understanding can go a long way toward the beginnings of healing.

But to be most effective, the outer work has to be coupled with attention to subtle dynamics, grounded in an inner foundation of love, blessing, sovereignty, empowerment, and energetic balance. 

A way of doing this that works for me is a form of subtle activism:

First, I quiet my mind and allow whatever negative emotions I may be feeling to pass through me as sensations without mentally engaging with them until they subside. If I’m having a particularly hard time with a particular political figure I feel an aversion to, I go through the “acts of love”  starting with perception and working my way through the stages as far as I can go. I also attune to my sense of connectedness to humanity, the earth, and the sacred, which I personally think of as “the field of love.”

Once I’ve regained my energetic balance, I visualize and feel myself as a radiating light of lovingness aligned with and assisted by the larger field of love and with all the others doing similar work. I see us all working together to hold a space of blessing where people are able to overcome their fear and anger and learn to collaborate and communicate constructively and non-violently.

If I'm in a situation where someone is sharing views with me that I’m averse to and I don’t have time to go through the entire process above, I simply take a moment to attune to the field of love and to our shared sacredness and humanity, which usually gives me the wherewithal to drop my own defensive postures and engage with the person in a more loving way.—Annabel Chiarelli

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Recently I awoke from a deep dream in which I was singing America the Beautiful along with several others. It was a very moving and heartfelt chorus that I felt was being sung as an antidote to the current political and social upheaval in our country. The song has an interesting history

In 1893, at the age of 33, Katharine Lee Bates, an English professor, had taken a train trip to Colorado Springs, Colorado. Traveling high atop Zebulon's Pikes Peak, the words of the poem started to come to her and found their way into her poem, "America the Beautiful." And, just as Bates had been inspired to write her poem, Samuel A. Ward, too, was inspired to compose his tune. The tune came to him while he was on a ferryboat trip from Coney Island back to his home in New York City.

Here are the words of the familiar 1913 version of the poem:

O beautiful for spacious skies,
For amber waves of grain,
For purple mountain majesties
Above the fruited plain!
America! America!
God shed his grace on thee
And crown thy good with brotherhood
From sea to shining sea!

 O beautiful for pilgrim feet
Whose stern impassioned stress
A thoroughfare of freedom beat
Across the wilderness!
America! America!
God mend thine every flaw,
Confirm thy soul in self-control,
Thy liberty in law!

 O beautiful for heroes proved
In liberating strife.
Who more than self their country loved
And mercy more than life!
America! America!
May God thy gold refine
Till all success be nobleness
And every gain divine!

O beautiful for patriot dream
That sees beyond the years
Thine alabaster cities gleam
Undimmed by human tears!
America! America!
God shed his grace on thee
And crown thy good with brotherhood
From sea to shining sea!

To me this is a song of the soul of the United States of America. It is full of the love of the land, nature and our founding ideals; Brotherhood, Grace, Soul, Freedom, Virtue, and noble Dreams.

So while you're watching and engaging this political season, whatever you think of the candidates and the process, I invite you to hold in your heart and imagination, to sing with me, "America the Beautiful". Imagine the Angel of America enfolding within its vast field of blessing all of the factions and aspects of our lush land and republic. Unfold an umbrella of hope and positive potential over our land which still offers so much hope and possibilities to so many in the world.

(Of course it is not necessary to use this song or this approach to imagine a blessing of the Soul of America over-lighting the land. Heck, I felt the same energy of my dream when Lady Gaga sang our National Anthem at the start of the last Superbowl. Use what works to help you imagine this blessing. It will have its effects — for you, for our country, and for our world.)--Jeremy Berg

Have more questions about how the principles of Incarnational Spirituality can help us individually and collectively cope with the turbulence and violence of our current political climate? Beginning April 18, David Spangler will be leading a week-long online Forum, "Surfing a Wave of Conflict", which will explore some of the inner causes of our current socio-political unrest and how we can hold our hurting society in "compassion, healing and wholeness." For more information or to sign up, please look here.

At Home with the Sacred

By Julie Spangler

A friend asked me: "Have you ever felt lost or estranged from God?" I do remember times in my early life when I felt separated from the Sacred, longing for union with the divine. When we are young it seems our work is to step into life, rather than seek to move out into numinous spaces; and being embodied is to be an individual and thus to feel apart. For me, there was definitely both an innate sense of connection to the world and also a sense of separation.

I look back on my youth and give thanks for where I am now in my life. Not that my youth was terrible. It was a pretty normal process as these things go. I was happy most of the time, given the usual ups and downs which are a necessary part of growing. I felt a deep love for the beauty of the natural world around me. And I also had the usual questions one asks when beginning a life — Who am I?  Why am I here? I am important to me, but am I important to anyone else? (Face it, we are all important to ourselves. It is built in and necessary.) What is expected or needed from me and what do I expect or want from life?

Growing up was a process of also growing deeper—landing in myself, I call it—and this was not without painful experiences. I think of that process as being one of stretching the inner spaces of myself to make room for more of the larger spirit of me to land. Much like stretching muscles, there can be pain involved. The interesting thing, though, is that while I could be in the midst of angst or painful growth, I could still sense an inner song of joy way off in the distance, as if there were a part of myself which rejoiced in the deepening and was not worried about the pain. Some part of me found this reassuring. Another part was annoyed, thinking, “Hey I’m hurting here!”

But over time, I can say that this song has grown louder and more pervasive. It no longer feels distant. In fact, I feel the resonance of this soul song permeating all aspects of myself. 

That is, perhaps, the gift of age. I've had a long time to find my way into myself and into connection with the Sacred and to know how to hold it. At 64 I know who I am (for the most part, though there is always room to grow) and I do not feel a need to look outside myself for definition. It wasn't that way when I was in my 20s. My sense of myself was more tenuous.

I have friends who seek God, and in that seeking feel distant and disconnected from the Sacred. It is a desperate need to find transcendence that to me seems born from a belief that they are not enough, that they are tainted by being human. I have encountered many who feel unable to love their human self, both because they see themselves as being inherently flawed and imperfect, and also perhaps seeing humanity as the reason for so much destruction and harm in the world. A double whammy of aversion to the incarnate self. How then can we not seek redemption in a higher state? Is it not better to seek oneness with the Sacred and obliterate the odious human part in the process?

There is a correlation between how we feel about ourselves and how we feel about the sacred. The less at home we are in ourselves, the more we will look outside ourselves for fulfillment, for love, for God, for comfort. The more comfortable we are in our skin, so to speak, the more we can love the frailties of our human imperfections and appreciate the deeper elements in ourselves which are our connections to the Sacred. We are not cut off from the Sacred because we are not cut off from ourselves.

It is as I have grown in myself and learned to accept that I am a work in progress and I can forgive my imperfections as I forgive those in others that a strong felt sense of the sacredness all around me has been fostered. The practice of perceiving the mystery and the corresponding light within myself and my world has become so embedded in my everyday awareness that I feel that sacredness around me always.    

From where I stand, it is not a matter of seeking solely to reach up out of myself, leaving my place in the dust of the world for the brighter pastures of heavenly states. Those pastures are indeed a blessing to visit. But their grace is in the felt sense I bring back of connection with a sacredness that also lies within myself and within the planet. If I bring that luminous sense into my everyday self and hold it in my body's core, I no longer feel separate.

So there is never a time I don't feel connected to the Sacred because it's not a matter of trying to find my way to something. If I was trying to find my way to God outside of me I would be looking for some GPS coordinates to guide my way. But when the Sacred is felt all around, within and without, how could I be lost?

Views from the Lorian Community publishes essays from a team of volunteer writers expressing individual experiences of a long term, committed practice of Incarnational Spirituality (and the general principles shaping such a practice.) If you wish to share how your life has benefited from your relationship with Lorian and IS, please email the editor at drenag@lorian.org.We prefer submissions between 700-900 words. However, we rarely accept previously published material (including blog posts.) We also reserve the right to edit or decline your submission. Any accepted submissions will be published in the order that best fits our topic schedule.

The Inner Hears the Outer

Essay and Art by Mary Reddy

I recently emerged from long weeks of a persistent bronchial illness. Though I had to continue working from home throughout most of it, once off work I retreated to bed, read fantasy novels, drank tea, then slept for inordinately long stretches! When I got better, I felt as though I had journeyed out of Hades along with Persephone to welcome spring—blinking and rubbing my eyes a bit to find myself back in the vibrant stream of daily life.

Itching to write again, I found myself staring at a blank page. It teased me with too many possibilities. Life themes swirled in my head and none of them landed safely to ground my thoughts into words. I took a break, settled my busy mind, and meditated. And in that moment of quiet being, I heard an inner voice say, “the inner listens to the outer.”

Many of us have experienced an inner voice that makes itself heard at key junctures in our lives. It’s usually a subtle but clear communication which seems to come straight from our souls into our consciousness, carrying messages of “yes, this is it,” or “not now, be patient,” or “this is the one you have chosen to walk with.” But the statement I heard in meditating reminded me of something other than listening to the voice of my soul. 

It reminded me of a game my friends and I play sometimes. We call it an energy game. One person closes her eyes and holds her hands out about a foot apart with palms facing each other. An object is held between her outstretched hands and she begins to sense it with her subtle awareness. Another person writes down whatever the sensing person says about the object. Surprising messages arise out of this game. Some of us receive the messages entirely in imagery; others may “hear” the object talking to them.

In a recent session of the game, I reported about one of the things I sensed into: “this is sweet and very old … motherly and loving … It has a quality of remembrance, of holding the past … I see roses, but not vibrant, rather faded and delicate. This feels close to me. I like it!” This object turned out to be one of my old journals in which I had written many dreams and observations.

For another, I knew right away that the item between my hands was very sure of its purpose, very matter of fact about what it was to be used for. I sensed great dignity and self-confidence in the way it presented itself. I did not feel especially close to it, but I knew if I ever needed this thing, I could happily use it. Opening my eyes, I discovered the object was the telephone headset I use for conference calls.

One of my friends had a fantastic experience. In this instance, the object first appeared in her mind’s eye as a “charcoal grey thing, somewhat stout or round …  but not staying in one form.” She felt the object  was “innately curious, well-meaning, and moving like a dancer.”  She saw immense swirling darkness inside it, but not a menacing darkness. The object looked back at her and said “I see you, too, have wings.” When my friend opened her eyes, she found herself looking at a dried fig. 

How wonderful to be able to relate to a fig as a fellow dancer, or to know the man-made electronic tool you depend on is devoted to its task. I am continually impressed with the depth of life and experience that surrounds us in the outer world of physical objects, living creatures or natural growing things. To open up one’s inner ear and listen to the outer is a lovely way to experience what David calls “the living universe.”

Curious about more perspectives of our living universe? Take a look at Freya Secrest's latest blog post, "Mystery of the Living Universe". For more information about subtle perception, you may be interested in our upcoming teleclass on working with subtle energies. 

Hawthorns and Landsense

By Susan Beal

I walked up the hill without any particular destination in mind, heartbroken about a conflict over potential futures for our family land. It had opened old wounds, and made me doubt myself and my ability to deal with all the issues in question. My heart literally ached, not so much physically as emotionally, my chest tight with the pain of old sorrows. But the sun was bright and the air was warm which was wonderful all by itself, being the first hint of Spring after the long winter. The brooks were full as they sparkled and surged down from the woods through the pastures, and I could hear bluebirds, sparrows and titmice calling from the trees. As I walked up the farm road, the pastures and hayfields opened out to either side of me and I could feel my mood opening out too.

I have loved this place since I was a child, and more and more recently, I feel the land’s love for me. It’s palpable in the way love is, as a sense of warmth, a brightening of heart, a deepening of recognition and understanding. It is personal and surprisingly intimate, as if the land knows what is in my heart and my thoughts. Even my physical state seems to be part of the connection, because the herbs and wildflowers that grow voluntarily around the house and edges of the lawns usually have healing properties that exactly match my needs through the seasons and years. It’s astonishing, to be honest, and hints at a level of awareness and connection beyond what I can quite grasp.

I made my way to the top of the hill and picked through a mowed side field to a little hillock in a small copse. It’s an oddly discrete mound, topped with grass and surrounded by woody shrubs and small trees. I felt welcomed. I lay down on top and gazed up at the sky. A chickadee landed on one of the little trees surrounding the hillock and flitted from one branch to another, watching me with friendly curiosity. A chipmunk dashed past, scuttling in the dry leaves. I closed my eyes and let my awareness extend outward into a sense of sovereignty and belonging, an assurance that land and I were partners. I could trust and be strengthened by that. These latest emotional swirls and eddies were simply part of the larger current of beneficial change on the land.

I became aware of the small trees around the hillock, as if they were reaching out to me. Suddenly I was certain they were hawthorns. I sat up and studied them. They had no leaves yet— it being early March— but their shape and what remained of the dead leaves that had fallen around them were hawthorn-like. After some searching I found a few thorns on the inner branches, just enough to convince me these were, indeed, hawthorn trees.

Hawthorns are among the most magical and sacred of trees. Their leaves, flowers and berries are beneficial for the heart on all levels, easing and healing both physical disease and emotional and spiritual distress. The trees themselves are said to be portals to the Faerie realms. Tradition has it that if you cut or disturb a hawthorn without permission from the tree, great harm may befall you, but if you approach the tree with respect and gratitude, you can receive great healing.

I had been looking for hawthorns on our property for a few years, and had only found two struggling ones, mostly choked out by vines and larger trees in the hedgerow where they were growing. I marveled that of all the places I could have wandered with my grieving heart that afternoon, I ended up in a little grove of hawthorn trees that I had not recognized until just then.

Sometimes my communication with the land and its spirits feels like a conversation of sorts, an exchange of ideas or thoughts between us that I could put into words, though it isn’t usually necessary. Sometimes it’s a felt sense. But sometimes it just feels like listening to myself and following my own heart. The separation and distinction between myself and the land, between human and nature, falls away.

Years ago I read a fantasy novel in which the rulers of the land had what they called “landsense.” They grew into such close attunement to their land that they learned to feel it as an extension of themselves. They didn’t so much communicate with the land as know and sense what was happening throughout it. I think all of us have the capacity to be that attuned to the people and places around us, to hear and feel what happens to the whole as keenly as if it is happening to us individually.

On my way up the hill, I felt sad and uncertain, wondering if my alliance with the land and the spirits mattered in the “real” world. As I walked and tuned into the landscape and then lay amongst the hawthorns, I was reassured that a loving connection was vital not only to whatever happens here in the future, but to my own—and the land’s—day to day well-being.  Returning from my walk, my heart was light. I realized how much the Earth longs for each of us, in our own ways, to cultivate a sense of place, and to cherish the love and intimacy that grows from conscious partnership with the land around us.

Views from the Lorian Community publishes essays from a team of volunteer writers expressing individual experiences of a long term, committed practice of Incarnational Spirituality (and the general principles shaping such a practice.) If you wish to share how your life has benefited from your relationship with Lorian and IS, please email the editor at drenag@lorian.org. We prefer submissions between 700-900 words. However, we rarely accept previously published material (including blog posts.) We also reserve the right to edit or decline your submission. Any accepted submissions will be published in the order that best fits our topic schedule.

The Inner Voice

By Claire Blatchford

"Inner hearing” has always been crucial in my life— particularly as I’m deaf and can’t always manage by way of a hearing aid (used for over 50 years, and now, more recently, a cochlear implant.) When I share this conviction people often ask, “Can one hear and converse with spiritual beings in the same way one hears and converses with people?" My response is “Yes!” But I think it’s important to realize conversing with spiritual or subtle beings, as with human beings, occurs in many ways and on many levels, not just in words as we know them. Inner hearing— or “inner knowing” which may be the better term—differs, in my own experiences from “outer hearing”, hearing things in the physical world, in two ways.

First, what I hear within is not specifically and only about hearing non-physical beings. I might, for example, hear suddenly and unexpectedly into the thoughts, concerns or joys of someone I’m close to who is far away and has not made an attempt to contact me by phone or email. This could also be called intuitive hearing and leads directly to my second point: inner hearing engages me in a deeper and more comprehensive way than ordinary physical hearing.

When I hear the world by way of physical hearing, with the aid of my implant, it’s usually in a cause and effect way. Our dog barks and I deduce from his bark someone is at the back door. When I hear inwardly, the physical and emotional feelings that accompany this form of hearing are as much the message as the thought that’s being expressed. Also, when I hear within I may, at the same time, be hearing the outer world by way of the cochlear implant. It’s not as though I only hear one way or the other. I’m sure this happens to people with normal hearing all the time: like when the phone rings and even before you’ve picked it up you intuitively know who is calling.

What I have to share about my discovery of inner hearing as a child may help to illustrate these two points.

*                              

I first heard inwardly when I was six (shortly after becoming profoundly deaf in both ears overnight from the mumps). I didn’t get my first hearing aid until I was twelve, as there weren’t any aids at that time powerful enough for my use. So I was cut off during those years from the usual things children hear with their ears. I’m certain I became aware of inner hearing because I was removed from the clamor of every day noises.

At the same time I never thought of myself as living in a silent world because I’d known what hearing was and because what I “heard” through my eyes --people talking and showing facially how they felt, cars driving by, dogs barking, waves breaking on the beach—translated into inner sounds. Yet I obviously couldn’t hear and talk in the usual ways. Ordinary communication—hearing, understanding what I heard, and speaking—was extremely difficult. When you can’t hear, you can’t moderate your own voice and your speech can get sloppy pretty quickly. So it was marvelous indeed when, without any, “WHAT did you say?” or “For Pete’s sakes repeat that!” I heard an inner voice without stress or struggle.

I can’t remember the first time I heard it. In some mysterious way I assumed it had always been there, which, in turn, led me to assume everyone heard their own inner voice. When I was 12 and told my best friend about it she said maybe the Devil was talking to me. The thought had never occurred to me. As I felt helped and comforted by the inner voice, never bullied or threatened, I didn’t take her words seriously and didn’t speak of inner hearing with anyone again until I was in my 20’s.  

 

The inner voice was direct, simple and supportive. It was never ostentatious or effusive. I never questioned or tried to shield myself from it because it always “got” me and exactly where I needed to be met, held, or corrected. As in:

 

     “You’re okay.” When I wondered if I was “normal” and not "stupid" or "dumb", as in "deaf and dumb", the saying used at that time. (I was the only deaf kid in my school district.)

 

     “Cool it!” When I was angry at perceived unfairness towards myself or others. The tone by itself could literally pop my hot air balloon and bring me back to earth. I also discovered how words spoken in anger could boomerang right back, wounding me. In this manner I learned there are other angles, besides my own, in every situation.

 

The words I heard were, at times, like arrows in that I was immediately struck by the truth of what was being said. Not wounding arrows, but arrows that hit the bulls-eye, showing me an inner kernel of truth in situations I found myself in.  

 

What I heard within was never felt as command but always as loving suggestion. “Go home and help your mother” was one I heard more than once. The suggestions were so clear, so obviously right, it was as though what I heard flowed right into inner consent, then out in actions. And there was always space for me to hear or not hear, accept or reject what was being said. I could, if I wanted, go right on being angry and feeling sorry for myself. There were no veiled threats of likely punishment from the inner voice. I did find, though, that when I liked the drama of being angry and feeling sorry for myself, I was often unable to hear the inner voice very clearly, if at all. 

Whose was the voice I was hearing? I never thought to ask. It knew me and I knew it: that was enough. Julia Spangler expressed her response to her inner voice beautifully in her recent posting:

 "What is important to me is that I knew without a doubt that the voice was real. I felt like it knew something I didn’t and it was right. I didn’t need to ask if it was real. I knew it was for me, and I knew I could trust it. How did I know? I suppose in the same way I know when I can trust a person. There is a comfort and feeling of rightness to the relationship. And then, experience through my life teaches me if it is right."

Connecting with this inner voice at six brought me to the conviction I live with now 66 years later: inner beings are eagerly waiting for us to hear them and to acknowledge their presence. Their hope is that we might together find our way into a new understanding of the interconnectedness of the seen and unseen, the human and the earthly, the physical and the subtle, aspects of all life. In fact, I believe All Life depends on our connecting in this way. This, from my perspective, is what Incarnational Spirituality is all about. 

Comments or questions about the blog or Lorian Association? Email drenag@lorian.org or info@lorian.org.

Blog Updates: March

By Drena Griffith

February Recap

During the month of February, Lorian columnists and writers explored a variety of themes: a winter meditation, animal companionship, the smallest act of service (saving the life of a bee) bringing healing to the world, and life (and love) after the deaths of beloveds.

Additionally, Julie and David Spangler, in responding to a question for "Ask Julia" about the nature of inner contacts, helped create a new Views from the Lorian Community feature: "Conversations with Lorian." For more information, click here.)

Here are links to (and excerpts from) the February posts:

An Incarnational Sketchbook: Body in Winter by Mary Reddy

"Winter is a mirror of subtle worlds. Remember—all that is unseen is not therefore absent. I ask my body if it is also quietly busy with an underground enrichment, an earthly steeping of my spring growth. This winter I find myself sleeping later, longing to stay in bed until the sun’s rays begin to peep over the Cascadia range. Yet through the long nights, my dreams have shone with an incandescent light. Anne Morrow Lindbergh wrote “Perhaps I am a bear, or some hibernating animal underneath, for the instinct to be half asleep all winter is so strong in me.” And so I, in my body, attune to the season and the earth’s turning, wedded to its rhythms as much as any bear."

My White Shadow by Claire Blatchford

"My white shadow knows the art of being with, without invading boundaries, though there are times when his close is a bit too close. Like after he’s caught and gulped down a whole mole, sampled manure in the cow pasture or rolled in fishy seaweed. I know my good ideas— weeding the garden rather than going for a ramble— are not always his good ideas. Nor are his mine— as when he chases crows round and round the yard, nose aimed skyward, barking up a storm! Does he really imagine he could sprout wings and fly with them? Or the way he insists, in his ridiculous, persistent manner that squirrels come down straight away from this or that branch in a tree. To what? His open jaws? How can my white shadow who is so wise also be so silly? Perhaps he, secure and comfortable in the depths of his doggie incarnation, thinks the same of me."

Loving the World, One Bee at a Time by Rue Hass

"In these difficult times, it is easy to feel like there isn't much I can do that will bring about change. Or sometimes I feel so much, and it all has so many sharp edges, that I want to close down. But I believe that how I stand in even the smallest acts I take each day probably makes far more difference than I know. Here is a story of a small act that made a big difference for me, and maybe helped the world."

Laying Cynthia to Rest by Susan Beal

"Cyn was the bright yellow to my cool blue, the sunlit meadow to my misty greenwood. She was outgoing, heart-on-her sleeve, romantic, dramatic, and generous to a fault. Whereas I was shy, quiet, and kept my feelings to myself. I preferred the company of animals and plants to people, whereas Cynthia probably would have thrown herself in front of a train to save a stranger. When she was sad or distressed, the entire household vibrated with her pain. When she cried, she howled in long, drawn out, gutteral sobs that forced all of us to participate in her heartbreak. 

I was completely different. I wrote my papers and studied for tests on my own. And whether Mom formed her opinions of me from watching me through the years, or I molded myself to fit her expectations, I grew up hearing, 'I never worry about you, Sue. I know you can handle it.' But this never felt like a compliment, more of a dismissal of who I was. But I didn’t know who I was because I lived so completely in my sister’s shadow."

Cedar of Lebanon: Meditations by Dorothy Maclean, Essay by Freya Secrest

"Cedar of Lebanon - Many lives come and go, and still our power goes up to the sky and down to the earth. This is the power of the Almighty of which we are caretakers in this moment of time. Our serene strength stabilizes and makes upright whatever comes to us in openness, for we are living matter, fashioned from the elements, and we are kin to all life. You and I are blood brothers, made from the same substance, each fulfilling our destiny on this planet. I contain you in my towering strength, and you contain me in your towering aspiration."--Dorothy Maclean, Call of the Trees

Love Beyond Death by Drena Griffith

"The materialist versus the mystic--that was Ed and me. At an earlier point in my life I would never have imagined myself with a partner who didn’t share my spiritual views. But life with Ed taught me that beliefs didn’t matter when two people shared the same soul. Then again, that’s the mystic talking. Ed actually didn’t believe in the soul. He believed in the bible of creation itself--in the Big Bang, in birdsong, in our bodies decomposing to dust. He did not believe in life after death. 'This moment between us right now is all there is,” he’d said. “We need to savor it because when it’s gone, there won’t be another one.'

 

This conversation between us continued, strangely, after his fall."

 

Conversations with Lorian (Formerly Ask Julia) by Julie Spangler

 

"I have heard an "inner voice" a few times in my life, and by that I mean an actual "out loud" voice. At least it was loud to me. The first time it happened it was an ordinary day in a familiar place. I was 14 years old and was with my mother and sister in the kitchen of the house I grew up in. They were in deep conversation about various spiritual topics they were exploring. As I sat listening, I wondered why I wasn't participating in their explorations. I was interested in the topic, and some of what they were learning was so familiar that I felt I already knew it. It was in the midst of my question to myself, Why am I not joining in this journey with them? that I heard the voice. It was as clear as the voices in the room, though it felt closer. It also seemed to come from above and behind me. This voice said, 'It is not time yet.' Simply that. But with that simple sentence came what I would now call a 'download' (we didn't have the term in 1965) of the insight that my task at that time was to settle into my body and my personality. And I would know when the time was right to pursue spiritual interests. This knowledge landed in my core.

I didn't move from the counter where I was sitting. I didn't jump up and shout that I had heard a voice. It was so natural an experience that it didn't occur to me to tell anyone about it until decades later I knew the voice was right. It felt right. Whose was this voice? I don't know. It might have been what I call "Big Julie", a higher part of my incarnate self, or my soul. It might even have been an inner friend or guardian angel.  I am sure there are many possibilities. But in all these years, I haven't really asked. What is important to me is that I knew without a doubt that the voice was real. I felt like it knew something I didn't, and it was right. I didn't need to ask if it was real. I knew it was for me, and I knew I could trust it. How did I know? I suppose the same way I know when I can trust a person. There is a comfort and a feeling of rightness to the relationship. And then, experience through my life teaches me if it is right. Perhaps I didn't shout about hearing a voice because I decided to hold its insights close to my heart and watch to see how it all worked out. Through my history, I have found I can trust my own inner way of listening, my own inner senses. Learning to trust my own individual mode of communion with Spirit is part of growing up."

Conversations with Lorian (Part 2) by David Spangler

"How do I recognize a contact with the Sacred whether that contact is within myself or in the experience of someone else?

In part, the answer to this question depends on how I define the Sacred. If I believe the Divine is a fair but stern parent, then I will look to those parental qualities as my criteria for recognizing divinity. If I see God as the loving, nourishing energy of life uniting all creation in a wholeness, then that expectation will shape my perception. Do I see myself as God’s creature and thus as something separate from the Divine, or do I see the Sacred as the underlying, foundational Identity of everything that is? If the latter, then I will be more open to the experience of an indwelling divinity with which I can commune; if the former, then God is the Other from whom I receive messages, instructions, and teachings, which can just as likely come from someone else as from within myself.  

Whatever my belief may be, how open am I to an experience that expands or challenges that belief, requiring me to see the Sacred in new ways? The Sacred might contact me from a place within my own consciousness, but if it does so in an unexpected or unfamiliar way, then I might not recognize it as a genuine contact; whereas I might accept someone else is having a conversation with God or Jesus if their experience conforms to images that I expect or in which I have been taught to believe."

♥

As always, many thanks to our volunteer team of writers who, month by month, post by post, help us to hold up Incarnational Spirituality before the world! This month Rue Hass received the following Facebook response to her blog post, "Loving the World, One Bee at a Time" from friend Fearn Stanley:

"I deeply enjoyed your written meditation on your experience with the bee. I often find myself "rescuing" insects in the house that other family members would squash without thinking. This small act of "random kindness" does indeed help me feel more connected to the world and leads me to larger acts of "senseless beauty"! Like talking to a homeless woman and giving her my only winter jacket. (She slept outside and I only used the jacket here in AZ on occasion.) These deep feelings of connectedness inform my other choices, and generate within me a sense of Inner Peace that is often lacking in the outer world."

 

Thank you Fearn! And thanks to all of our readers, subscribers and followers on Facebook. Your presence matters to us, so please feel free to reach out, share your thoughts, as well as any questions for Conversations with Lorian! Email drenag@lorian.org.

March

Spring is nearly upon us! This month daylight saving time returns; we have a new Manifestation Class starting on March 14 as well as the spring Views from the Borderland set to arrive in subscribers' mailboxes near the Vernal Equinox. Views from the Lorian Community will feature blog posts on manifestation, subtle perception—and also, inspired by Julie Spangler, a deeper exploration of "inner hearing."

Conversations with Lorian (Part 2)

Editor’s Note: Lorian is a collection of different voices and perspectives, each one authentic to our collective experience yet also simultaneously unique and particular to the individual. A recent exchange between Julie and David Spangler over the latest “Ask Julia” question led them each to respond in slightly different, yet complementary ways. Taken together, these corresponding views offered a well-rounded response while also affirming the inherent individualism and “spiritual tenure” that comprises a core  understanding of Incarnational Spirituality. This emerging dialogue inspired us to consider a different approach to our “Ask Julia” column. Going forward, we will open up questions to our wider group (and whenever possible present different responses.) This updated column will be called “Conversations with Lorian."

The following blog post is David Spangler's response to the question that inspired this update to the"Ask Julia" column, which going forward will be called "Conversations with Lorian". (Please click here to read Julia Spangler's response from last week.)

What does it mean to genuinely be in contact with the God within? How is it different from people claiming to have “Conversations with God” or claiming to channel “Jesus” or some other archetypal image of the Sacred? How do I respond to and discern what is a real inner contact? 

David responds:

These are excellent questions, ones that my wife Julia addressed very well last week drawing on her own experiences. I agree with everything she said, and so I would like to explore a different approach. I find at the heart of these questions a deeper one: How do I recognize a contact with the Sacred whether that contact is within myself or in the experience of someone else?

In part, the answer to this question depends on how I define the Sacred. If I believe the Divine is a fair but stern parent, then I will look to those parental qualities as my criteria for recognizing divinity. If I see God as the loving, nourishing energy of life uniting all creation in a wholeness, then that expectation will shape my perception. Do I see myself as God’s creature and thus as something separate from the Divine, or do I see the Sacred as the underlying, foundational Identity of everything that is? If the latter, then I will be more open to the experience of an indwelling divinity with which I can commune; if the former, then God is the Other from whom I receive messages, instructions, and teachings, which can just as likely come from someone else as from within myself.  

Whatever my belief may be, how open am I to an experience that expands or challenges that belief, requiring me to see the Sacred in new ways?  The Sacred might contact me from a place within my own consciousness, but if it does so in an unexpected or unfamiliar way, then I might not recognize it as a genuine contact; whereas I might accept someone else is having a conversation with God or Jesus if their experience conforms to images that I expect or in which I have been taught to believe.

One of the terms for the Sacred common in Christian theology is “the Ground of All Being.” This means to me that the Sacred is at the root of who we are, the foundation of our identity, the core of our being. The Sacred draws us into ourselves and deepens our sense of who we are even as it enhances our ability to connect to and lovingly engage the world beyond ourselves. In this sense, it doesn’t draw our attention away from who we are; rather it gives us a fuller, deeper taste of our own beingness, our own “flavor,” so to speak. In so doing, it takes us beyond words, beyond images, even beyond thought and feeling. Though our minds may almost immediately cloak such an experience into words and images, the contact itself transcends such intermediaries. It is an upwelling of our own nature that distinguishes us yet connects us seamlessly to the fabric of creation.

Here’s a metaphor I find useful: how do I tell the difference between orange juice freshly squeezed and orange juice that has been reconstituted? One way is to have a discerning palate that can detect the “freshness,” but what exactly is the flavor and quality of this “freshness”?  It comes from the experience of actually squeezing a fresh orange and drinking the juice. If I only ever drink orange juice from cans of frozen juice or bottles in grocery stores, I’m getting the flavor second hand. I may not know what truly fresh juice is like, so I have no basis for comparison and discernment. On the other hand, if I can get hold of an actual orange and squeeze it, then I can begin to know what fresh orange juice tastes like.

Most people get their sacredness—their sacred messages and contacts—second hand, frozen in books or packaged in various ways through various teachings.  This contact may be inspiring, but is it the same as “fresh divinity”? The only way to know, really, is to do the work necessary to experience “fresh divinity,” which would mean through a skillful spiritual practice of inner attunement, meditation, contemplation, prayer, etc….whatever works for you. You deliberately seek out the Sacred in yourself and in your life and see what it tastes like, quite apart from the messages and teachings that others provide. You have to do something to put yourself in the orchard where “fresh God” can be picked and squeezed. And you have to do this more than once (after all, you learn what fresh orange juice really tastes like by tasting the juice squeezed from several oranges, not just from one).  

When I taste the juice of an orange, two things happen. First, there is the actual experience of the impact of the juice on the taste buds in my tongue and mouth.  I feel its liquidness, its sweetness, its tartness, its citric tang, and so on. But second, there are my mental thoughts and descriptions to myself about what I’m experiencing. If I like sweetness above other sensations, I will look for that and will evaluate the juice on the basis of how sweet it is; if I like the citric tang or the tartness, I will look for that and use that for my evaluation. I will say the juice is the “real thing” if it is sweet or if it is tangy and tart, depending on my preference. To really understand the flavor of orange juice, though, I need to go past these preferences. I need to take the juice on its own terms, so to speak.

Same with divinity. Do I think of God as a sweet, loving, empowering presence or as a tart, tangy, fierce, stern presence? Is God someone I must obey or something that infuses and nourishes my life? How I think about God, how I define divinity, will affect how I recognize, respond to, and discern a Sacred encounter. So I need to understand what my mental and emotional habits and expectations, my imaginal images are, around divinity and how those images may affect my inner “taste buds”.

If I have an experience of the God Within, the key factor is that, unless my thought forms and expectations get in the way, I’m having the potential of experiencing an actual presence or energy—a genuine flavor fresh-squeezed. If I’m listening to someone else’s contact, I’m receiving it the way I get orange juice from a grocery store, pre-packaged in some manner. It may still have a wonderful flavor, but it’s second hand.  It’s not direct from the orange.

So I need to find the "orchard" where this divine fruit grows, and if I am serious about it and see divinity truly as the Ground of my Being, then I enter this “orchard” through moments of honoring and loving myself. For I am the tree whose roots are in God and from whose branches the divine fruit hangs.  This is why I find an incarnational spirituality to be important, for it brings me to the orchard of myself.  There, in the mystery and love of my own being, I can find that fresh divinity and discover its taste for myself. When I do, it’s a taste I will know anywhere, whatever the package in which it is served.

Have a question about manifestation, the Sidhe, how to navigate the subtle realms? This column is for you. Please email info@lorian.org or leave a message on our Facebook page. Maybe your question will be the next one answered!

Conversations with Lorian (Formerly Ask Julia)

Editor's Note: Lorian is a collection of different voices and perspectives, each one authentic to our collective experience yet also simultaneously unique and particular to the individual. A recent exchange between Julie and David Spangler over the latest "Ask Julia" question led them each to respond in slightly different, yet complementary ways. Taken together, these corresponding views offered a well-rounded response while also affirming the inherent individualism and "spiritual tenure" that comprises a core  understanding of Incarnational Spirituality. This emerging dialogue inspired us to consider a different approach to our "Ask Julia" column. Going forward, we will open up questions to our wider group (and whenever possible present different responses.) This updated column will be called "Conversations with Lorian."

What does it mean to genuinely be in contact with the God within? How is it different from people claiming to have "Conversations with God" or claiming to channel "Jesus" or some other archetypal image of the Sacred? How do I respond to and discern what is a real inner contact?

Julia responds:

I have heard an "inner voice" a few times in my life, and by that I mean an actual "out loud" voice. At least it was loud to me. The first time it happened it was an ordinary day in a familiar place. I was 14 years old and was with my mother and sister in the kitchen of the house I grew up in. They were in deep conversation about various spiritual topics they were exploring. As I sat listening, I wondered why I wasn't participating in their explorations. I was interested in the topic, and some of what they were learning was so familiar that I felt I already knew it. It was in the midst of my question to myself, Why am I not joining in this journey with them? that I heard the voice. It was as clear as the voices in the room, though it felt closer. It also seemed to come from above and behind me. This voice said, "It is not time yet." Simply that. But with that simple sentence came what I would now call a "download" (we didn't have the term in 1965) of the insight that my task at that time was to settle into my body and my personality. And I would know when the time was right to pursue spiritual interests. This knowledge landed in my core.

I didn't move from the counter where I was sitting. I didn't jump up and shout that I had heard a voice. It was so natural an experience that it didn't occur to me to tell anyone about it until decades later I knew the voice was right. It felt right. Whose was this voice? I don't know. It might have been what I call "Big Julie", a higher part of my incarnate self, or my soul. It might even have been an inner friend or guardian angel.  I am sure there are many possibilities. But in all these years, I haven't really asked. What is important to me is that I knew without a doubt that the voice was real. I felt like it knew something I didn't, and it was right. I didn't need to ask if it was real. I knew it was for me, and I knew I could trust it. How did I know? I suppose the same way I know when I can trust a person.  There is a comfort and a feeling of rightness to the relationship. And then, experience through my life teaches me if it is right. Perhaps I didn't shout about hearing a voice because I decided to hold its insights close to my heart and watch to see how it all worked out.  Through my history, I have found I can trust my own inner way of listening, my own inner senses. Learning to trust my own individual mode of communion with Spirit is part of growing up.

But how can I tell if someone else is in touch with a Sacred source? I don't know how anyone can presume to judge the inner experience of another. I think there are as many possible answers to this question as there are philosophical and religious teachings in the world, not to mention the various psychological conditions we may experience. An inner contact could be a truly divine encounter, or it could be a fabrication of our egoic structure, a delusion born of imbalance and stress. It could be a misinterpretation of a contact with a subtle phenomenon of some nature, powerful in its own right but falling short of actually being sacred. Or the contact could be very deep and real, but it still has to come through the mind and personality of the one who is in contact with it, which will put its own particular and perhaps limited stamp upon it. How does one know?

Let's start with contact coming through someone else. Maybe people are channeling Jesus. Maybe they are delusional. I can only judge for myself by what they say. Would I accept what they say if it wasn't from Jesus but was from Uncle Ted? Does that change the way I hear it? Does the name attached to the message make me value it more? If so, I need to take a good hard look to see if I would believe these words if they came from someone else. If there is something useful to me, I can take it and use it in my life  But it does not help me to turn my devotion to the person through whom the message came, making them a proxy for my own inner contact.

Also, does what they say empower me and offer me freedom and sovereignty? Does it enhance my connection with my own inner source, or does it direct me to look outside myself for my spiritual fulfillment  Does it constrict me and make me feel small and insignificant, or does it inspire me to be a source of creativity in my world? Does it lead me to engage the world with love, generosity and blessing? 

The tone of the message is important too. My first response to a "my child" tone is that this is either not a high contact or the contactee is not clear. Talking down to me does not give me a sense of empowerment and expansion; it may perhaps give me a sense of being cuddled and safe. I can relax and let my spiritual parent take care of me. While it may be comfortable, this kind of language is perpetuating thought forms of God-The-Father taking care of the little children who don't have to think, but just worship. This kind of tone does not speak to me personally and in fact can contribute to the kind of blind following that we see in our world. I feel more called to a message that engages my mind and creativity, that challenges me to grow up and take co-responsibility with Spirit for myself and my world. I respond to a 'voice' that recognizes that I am a partner in this connection with the Sacred. I am not a passive tool of God but instead am a creative source for spirit to engage with the world.

My friend, Dorothy Maclean, is known for her inner contact with what she calls The God Within and also for her connection with the Devas through that inner contact. Dorothy is a big fan of David Spangler's work, and though while David was at Findhorn in the '70's, he would talk occasionally about the God within, he eventually chose to call it the Sacred, or the Generative Mystery in order to prevent old thought forms from interfering with an individual's inner experience of Spirit. A few times in our long friendship, Dorothy asked David what he thought she was in touch with when she contacted God. David never answered her.

Because Dorothy would jokingly complain to me about it, I once asked David about her question. His answer? "How do I know what she is in touch with?" It is possible that it was her High Self or her Soul. It is possible it was some big inner ally or guardian angel. It is possible it was a thought form which an angelic presence was connecting through, or perhaps it was her connection with the Ground of all Being clothed in her thoughts. But only she can name the place within her from which it comes. And I know that Dorothy underwent extensive inner training and discipline in order to make that contact. She knew from her own experience that she could trust it. And I knew from the quality of what she wrote that her connection was one I could trust.

Some of us are tasked with bringing new teachings to the world. The way we do it is important, and is often related to the cultural environment in which we move. The choice to follow these teachings is an individual one and pertains to the inner calling of each of us. It does not matter what name is given to these teachings. What matters is what you take away from them and if they lead you to trust yourself, stand in your own sovereignty and learn to hear and listen to your own inner voice, be it loud or soft.

Stay tuned for David's response to the same question. 

Cedar of Lebanon

Meditation by Dorothy Maclean, Commentary by Freya Secrest

One of the things I love about reading Dorothy Macleans’s deva messages is that they allow me to participate in the fullness of the experiences they carry. For me the words create more than a mental image; they convey a quality of being which is deeply nourishing and instructive. In this way they help me to widen my own ability to embody the qualities of which they speak. When I move into the felt sense of a communication in this way, ideas such as "joy" or "grounding" become rooted in a physical, loving connection with my world and all are enriched.

Dorothy’s messages from the trees especially offer an experience of peace and balance that is so valuable to strengthen in our world at this time. The following two communications were recorded during a visit she made in 1972 to Attingham Park, an estate in Southern England.  As do all her messages from the devic kingdom, they offer us an invitation to recognize our brotherhood on behalf of the planet.  -  Freya Secrest

 Cedar of Lebanon- Peace is what we give you at the moment.  You humans are all of a dither with new energies and we would counterbalance you. Peace and stability; you find that and then build.  It is no use building on foundations that would crumble; it is no use building on wonderful new ideas unless you can ground them.  We do not mean that they should be grounded with old ideas, but on the inner peace and stability which is deep within.  As you make some action without, there should be more action within - in fact, the within should come first and that is just the trouble with so many humans.  See how our enormous limbs are balanced in peace.  When the storm comes, we go with it and keep the balance.

The mind world of humanity is bursting its seams.  Let it burst.  Many ideas will be bubbles that will come to nothingness.  That does not matter; keep your roots in peace, and experiment.  Experiment until you find that which comes through perfectly.  As a baby learns to walk, learn to walk in your new world with a conscious link to peace within.  This is our particular message now.

Cedar of Lebanon - Many lives come and go, and still our power goes up to the sky and down to the earth.  This is the power of the Almighty of which we are caretakers in this moment of time.  Our serene strength stabilizes and makes upright whatever comes to us in openness, for we are living matter, fashioned from the elements, and we are kin to all life.  You and I are blood brothers, made from the same substance, each fulfilling our destiny on this planet.  I contain you in my towering strength, and you contain me in your towering aspiration.

You humans are despoiling our power on earth, interfering with our destiny.  In the process you are learning of your own destiny. We hope that proudly you may take it on, and enrich the earth as never before.  You can enrich it with your enlightened love.  

We can love together and be free together, for although we are tree and human, we are much more. We are representatives of divinity, and we never end through the endless ages.  We go on from strength to strength, each in our own way. Let us be one in that universal Power of Life.

For these and other tree meditations from Dorothy Maclean, please take a look at Call of the Trees, available in the Lorian bookstore.

Laying Cynthia to Rest

By Susan Beal

My older sister, Cynthia, was killed by a drunk driver when I was nineteen. I was certain I was the one who should have died, not her. I had to cope with not only the loss of my beloved sister, but with the void that opened up in my own understanding of what was real, what was truth and who exactly I was.

Unfortunately, the way I coped was to deny my own nature in order to appease the inner voice that said I had to atone for the mistake of her death. I felt guilty to be alive when she was not and decided I had to be as much like Cynthia as possible. It was intentional at first, driven by the fierceness of my grief and the tortured way it expressed itself. I wrote in my journal, over and over again, I must be more like Cynthia. I must be good like Cynthia. I wore her clothing. I moved into her bedroom so it wouldn’t become a grim shrine. I stuck it out with my boyfriend through the fights and disappointments between us and married him right after college, because Cynthia had declared we were perfect for each other and to break up with him would have been to betray her.

Cyn was the bright yellow to my cool blue, the sunlit meadow to my misty greenwood. She was outgoing, heart-on-her sleeve, romantic, dramatic, and generous to a fault. Whereas I was shy, quiet, and kept my feelings to myself. I preferred the company of animals and plants to people, whereas Cynthia probably would have thrown herself in front of a train to save a stranger.  When she was sad or distressed, the entire household vibrated with her pain. When she cried, she howled in long, drawn out, gutteral sobs that forced all of us to participate in her heartbreak. If she had a paper due or a big exam, we all progressed through the stages of inspiration, creative block, hair tearing and then final triumph at the 11th hour! Mom pulled all-nighters to help her finish school projects, type up and proofread papers, quiz her on questions and soothe and encourage her until everything was done.

I was completely different. I wrote my papers and studied for tests on my own. And whether Mom formed her opinions of me from watching me through the years, or I molded myself to fit her expectations, I grew up hearing, “I never worry about you, Sue. I know you can handle it.” But this never felt like a compliment, more of a dismissal of who I was. But I didn’t know who I was because I lived so completely in my sister’s shadow.

After Cynthia died, instead of laying her to rest I buried myself and wandered away from my grave. I didn’t realize how far I had strayed until the truth caught up to me in middle age. I think it was Jung who said that the first half of life is spent cultivating the Self in order to fit in; middle age is confronting all the shadow parts of the Self you suppressed in that effort, and elderhood is the process of integrating them into a whole.

For thirty years I had been living according to the vows I had made in the weeks and months following Cynthia’s death, to be the kind of person I thought she was. I stopped doing what I loved and what I was good at and instead began doing what I thought I needed to do to be loved and be a good person.  But at some point it dawned on me that I had been suffocating for years, and I couldn’t be Cynthia anymore.

So one night, I created a ritual. I spoke to Cynthia’s spirit and memory and told her I was letting her go. I wrote down the vows I’d made to be like her, and burned the paper in the fireplace. I envisioned my sister laid to rest and my own abandoned selves flying back to me from my past. That night, I got a terrible headache. It persisted, increasing in intensity until by the third day I literally banged my head on the wall to try to make it stop. A CAT scan revealed nothing abnormal, but I already knew my headache was a result of all the energy returning too fast and too burdened by the past. When I was finally able to cry for all that I had denied within myself, the headache dissolved.

One afternoon, about a week after my ritual, I picked up the latest issue of Ode magazine, which we subscribed to. I opened to the back and there was an article titled, “Natural Burial,” by Cynthia Beal. I could hardly breathe for the shock of it--my sister’s name! The author, a bereavement counselor and funeral director in Eugene, Oregon, wrote about honoring death as a part of life. When we let our loved one go, she wrote, we allow them, and ourselves, to move on.

At that moment, an angel appearing in a blaze of light couldn’t have made it plainer that laying Cynthia to rest was what I had needed to do in order to find my way back to wholeness and the Love that lay buried inside, waiting to be reclaimed.

Curious about the port-mortem realms or other subtle world experiences? David Spangler's Subtle Worlds: An Explorer's Field Notes serves as an overall field guide for exploring the inner realms. Also there will be a free teleclass led by Rue Hass and Freya Secrest on Wednesday May 4: Styles of Subtle Perception. This teleclass introduces their six week class Working with Subtle Energies, which begins on Monday, May 9. Click on the links above for more details about the book and/or classes.

 

Loving the World, One Bee at a Time

By Rue Hass

In these difficult times, it is easy to feel like there isn't much I can do that will bring about change. Or sometimes I feel so much, and it all has so many sharp edges, that I want to close down.  But I believe that how I stand in even the smallest acts I take each day probably makes far more difference than I know. Here is a story of a small act that made a big difference for me, and maybe helped the world.

One summer day I noticed a huge bumblebee in our kitchen window above the sink. Maybe it was a queen bee?  I have never seen one so large. I turned away to get a jar to catch and release her, but when I turned back, she had disappeared—not to be seen or heard anywhere. I was baffled. I only looked away for a few seconds. Where could she have gone? I wanted to release her. I really didn’t want to step on her, or discover that one of our dogs had engaged with her. I looked for her for awhile. But no luck. So I carried on with my day, deciding that she must have somehow flown back outside.

The next day I had just finished my lunch and was settling in to work at the computer again when I heard a loud buzzing near the sink. I thought of the bee. Again, I looked and looked, but no bee on the windows, walls, flying around. I even picked up the small lidded compost bin to carry outside, because it sounded like there might be a bee trapped inside.  No bee in the compost.

But then oh!—there she was—crawling out of the drain in the sink, from the cavity down where the incinerator is. Wet, bedraggled, bemused, and very irritated, but miraculously alive! How did she survive two days of sink use?? Quickly I put a dishcloth near her and she climbed right up on it. I took her out to the deck and deposited the cloth into the big tomato pot in the sun. She rested there, still.

I wanted to help this bee, this bee-ing. So I thanked the dishcloth, the tomato plant,  the deck, and even the dangerous depths of the sink, as partners that held her safe.  I took a moment to feel into my connection with the earth, and into my appreciation for bees, Gaian agents of renewal, weaving the fabric of life together.   

I considered what I wanted for this bee….the feeling of radiant vital energy moving in her body, and the feeling of flying.  I called upon the sun. The Forest Pansy tree growing next to the deck also came into my awareness, seeming to suggest itself as another ally.

Putting my attention on the bee, I imagined myself bee-ing her, drawing the healing and vitalizing energy of the sun into her body, feeding her internally, drying her on the outside. I held her in this blessing field, wishing her well. 

The bee began to groom herself, her front legs moving rhythmically back to front, up from her midsection and over her face. It was fascinating to watch. She rested at intervals, sometimes leaving one leg up in the air above her head for a few minutes as she sat motionless. She turned herself to the sun in different directions. And then suddenly she was gone.

Marveling, I considered more deeply what I had done instinctively. I sat with each image that had come to me, trying to open my awareness to the information being offered by my subtle senses.  I noticed that each of my images was a collection of impressions rich with information and meaning:

The sun felt warm, vital, energetic, expansive, powerful, inviting of growth, and willing.

The spirit of bees felt somehow like it was made out of the brightness of sun, fierce and mighty, a generative force, the sense of what a piece of the the sun would sound like if you could hear it. It felt intentional, purposeful, focused.  I loved the sense of drinking in beauty and sweetness all day, every day, weaving the world together.

The soul of the earth felt like a burgeoning, loving holding space. I imagined it as an embracing feminine presence with a vast flowing garment that held all the living beings on the earth in its folds. The bee was there.

Flying felt like a light, lifting, dancing shape. I thought that the bee might need this feeling to imagine herself taking flight again.

These subtle perceptions were registered in my whole body. My mind then translated all these impressions into words, pictures, understanding.  I think of this as the intelligence of my felt senses at work.  This intelligence is always there when I pause to become aware of it. Through the process, I began to realize that the world is constantly touching me through my subtle senses, as I am touching it. There is a flow of intelligence and information between me and everything around me. I felt expanded, enhanced and somehow more present by my experience with the bee.

But someone might ask: "How does this serve a world overwhelmed and in need? How does this serve a polluted planet? How does this serve a hungry, starving child?”  Those are such huge questions, and huge issues.  They are overwhelming and numbing to even consider. 

David Spangler wrote about this need to make a difference recently in his latest newsletter, David’s Desk.  He said:

“I find power and a capacity to make a difference through touch. And again, this touch doesn’t just have to be with my fingers. I touch the world through my thoughts, my speech, my perceptions. Do I visually “touch” another person with respect and honor when I look at them or when I think about them? Understanding the many forms of touch and the connections that it forms in the moment—if only for a moment—is a way to understand our power to make a difference.

Stopping in for coffee at a local Starbucks, the cheerful and genuine smile and greeting of a barista lifts my heart and has a more lasting effect on my day than the coffee he served me. He touched me with gladness, and I felt affirmed. It made a difference. Did the world become a better place? Yes, for me. Did it alleviate suffering in Africa or South America or bring peace to the Middle East? No, not directly, but in a world in which we are all truly interconnected as spiritual beings, who knows where the ripples of a kindly or loving touch may go or what differences they may make?”

Likewise, I find myself always thanking and blessing and loving and appreciating the world, trying to notice and honor everything that is connecting and partnering with me. I talk to and “save” bits of the world as I can. Surely this way of being generates ripples of change in the energy fields around me. And the ripples surely reach out around the globe. In every moment we are either adding goodness or pollution into the field of the world.

And when it comes to adding goodness to the world I love considering the example of the bees themselves.  They just keep finding the next blossom, enjoying the work, doing the pollinators’ job of making sure tomorrow comes. That is something.

Simply Spiritual, a monthly column by Lorian priest and Intuitive Mentor Rue Hass, will feature personal stories and observations about embodying the principles of Incarnational Spirituality in daily life. For more about her teaching and coaching, please visit Rue’s website: intuitivementoring.com.

Questions or comments about Views from the Lorian Community? Please email drenag@lorian.org