The following is the post that prompted Katherine Jenkins to invite me to become a contributing author here in this wonderful Writers Rising community. You can find me here on the sidebar under the blog title of Healing Morning, and I will always provide a link to my blog page at the bottom of each post here. I hope you all enjoy!
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I believe in energy existing in our lives in a manner that is very logical and has meaning, intent, substance and results from the gift we are given of Free Will. I also believe that all of the above is helped along with a gentle guiding hand on our respective rudders, nudging us this way, prompting our attention to take that tiny, often overlooked backroad, or to hold the door for that stranger, to engage in a seemingly random conversation...all in order to encourage our steps in the next best direction.
Why am I saying all of this? For the past two years, (and I have mentioned this in several recent blog posts, so forgive the slight repetition here) I have been going through a transition - something I've called an incubation process, and other times I've dubbed it "useful limbo". The limbo part of the process appears to be rapidly reaching its zenith, because I am now seeing the jumble of experiences, the forays of energy, the textures, sounds and colors all beginning to come together in a bit of a rush. This gives the impression, at first glance, that everything is happening at once and it can feel overwhelming.
Don't get me wrong, I am beyond appreciative to see the beginning manifestations...a return...ROI in Law of Attraction terms. All the earnest energy, all the envisioning and dreaming with clear intent are now returning in their inevitable, beautiful boomerang-like arc from their journey out to God/Universe/Spirit. I often wonder how that energy that has my own unique Dawn fingerprint journeys outward. What would the journey look like if I could follow it? Watch it swoop and sojourn, darting deeply into this well of corresponding energy to match up to that particular word of intent....follow perhaps a more leisurely undulation into mysterious swirling depths of a different energy cloud to gather threads for a completely different intention, marrying it all seamlessly.
I often imagine this process to be of some musical and energetic expression beyond our three dimensions that creates a harmony to match my own in a manner that is inexpressibly beautiful. In fact, I doubt that the mere word "beautiful" would be sufficient to match what this dance of light actually creates out there in the Great Unknown where God/Universe/Spirit delights in weaving the threads, sparks and notes together for each of us.
And so it dallies out there, performing an acrobatic feat beyond our human ken, twirling madly in some areas, drifting as lazily and gently as an autumn leaf in others, collecting the energy with an application of time that fits my unique harmony. As it begins to return to me, my human mind, my human heart and human eyes see it as wondrous, but also slightly chaotic. I remind myself constantly that it is just an illusion that the returning energy only seems to be all hitting at once, giving the impression of actions and experiences stacking one on top of the other. The reality is that the pieces of energy which appear to be rushing at me wildly, clamoring for attention and building up in a tall, narrow tower similar to children's building blocks are actually "stacking" that high to give me a moment to simply stare upward and witness my own creative genius at work.
I am being given the chance to gaze at this high, narrow tower and see clearly what I have wrought with my own sincere actions, dreams, intentions and words. I am aware that when I get past the first rush of exhilaration and slight doubts that always accompany each door opening to success, each building block will regally and purposely shift from the tall, narrow tower to place itself in a firm, rock solid foundation. I believe the energy stacking sensation is merely to call our attention to sharp focus. I recognize that I have not done all of this alone - that gentle hand on the rudder, that quiet presence that embraces me has been there guiding the thoughts, intentions and dreams as they travel outward and eventually return with purpose.
There are the loving, reassuring whispers that come softly into my heart, and with them a sense of calm. Do I still feel trepidation? Yes, to a degree, because I firmly believe that we either feel Love, or we feel Fear. All emotions are derived from those two true sources. So, although minor thoughts of slowing the mad rush down exist, much more clearly, there is exhilaration as I recognize that after a lengthy incubation and useful limbo, the time is approaching for forward momentum to fall into place.
It is occurring as I write this post, with so many energy blocks in that stackable tower that as I tip my head back to gaze upward, I admit to a slight thrill of "What have I done?" type of thinking niggling at the periphery of my conscious mind. I don't spend much energy focusing on those doubts, as I recognize them to be a natural part of moving forward. Caution is never a bad partner to take along on any rush into our personal, individual futures. That being said, I am more inclined to simply stare up at that sparkling, brightly faceted narrow tower of energy and feel an immense satisfaction. The layers and building blocks soar above me and show me clearly that I am now stepping away from the useful limbo phase into a moment of more mobile, active application of energy.
At this moment, I find it apropo that I am on this brink...full of aspirations and dreams. This is a time of quiet, that proverbial calm before the storm, and I choose to view the storm as a positive. It is a storm of energy blocks stacked very high, and as I was a strong hand in the creation of these dreams, I admit to liking how loftily it ascends. Rather than quailing, I feel a definite sense of sureness and destiny, and overall, that neverending curiosity that drives me onward.
I also admit to wishing, just once, for a wee glimpse of that energy fingerprint....for a wee moment, to dash outward in tandem into the Great Unknown and be a bit of a tourist....and perhaps I actually do achieve that in a different state. It is all tied instrinsically together, after all, to produce the individual stories we all choose to live. I'll be content, though, with wrangling those stackable energy blocks into that solid foundation, and continue to build the Now into a bright experience.
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If you enjoyed this post, I invite you to visit my Healing Morning blog page to read more.
Namaste'.....
~ Dawn
Tuesday, February 16, 2010
Thinking about Thinking
I have been thinking about thinking
That's a form of Metacognition
I'm thinking now that I think all day
I don't need to go to the beach to think - but it's a serious thinking place
I think that I could do some serious thinking here
Lucky I have plenty of thought storage space
Storage for important thoughts that I might need later.
Are all thoughts important?
They obviously matter
Cats think but do they think about thinking?
Let's not forget about thoughtful dogs
I don't need words to think because I know what I'm thinking already
Knowing about Knowing
That's also Metacognition
Just some of my thoughts on thinking
All images from WeHeartIt
Except the picture of the cat - which belongs to my dad
Hat tip Jenny Juckel
Ripples and Swells the Words of Writing
I went through a door today. Well, I almost went through a door. My brain saw a door and literally, without thinking, I went through. Almost. That’s what you do with doors. You see a door and you go through the door, unless it is stuck. It was one of those embarrassing moments that usually happen when you’re running into a store and push on a door with a huge lettered sign that says pull. Like a bird mistaking the reflection of the trees in the window for trees I went crashing into the door. And yes, there was an audience, there’s always an audience. Like the tiny bird I just stood there looking at the door. It was a door. Doors open. You go through doors. You go in doors. You go out of doors. Maybe it was the concussion that made me daft but this really bugged me.
The long strong arm from a production worker who, with one motionless swoop, opened the door cleared my daftness. As I exited the room I warned those I met to be on the alert for the infamous door. They thanked me. Unfortunately I caught a glance of them looking back as the door opened with grace and beauty. Harumfph. I was so not pleased now.
“What do you see when you write?” was the innocent but teasing question asked of me not long ago. I knew the answer. I had visualized it day after day for more decades than I care to count. “Bread crumbs” was my reply. Writing is my way of leaving bread crumbs for those who come down the path after me. Writing was my prayer, my bread crumbs that would hopefully leave a trail for others. Bread crumbs to warn of danger. Bread crumbs to encourage others to not give up there was water just around the bend. Bread crumbs to let them know they were not alone that others had walked this path and were not far away. My words were bread crumbs.
Tonight I see a different image. My words are no longer bread crumbs. My words are ripples, little swells in the ocean of life. A water skier can use them to gain speed. A child floating may giggle as the swell tickles its way underneath the raft. Another boat may follow the current left by the swell. A renegade beach ball may be pulled from the shore by the swells. The course they take, the path and current they travel are their own. Our ripples and swells may crash against each other and merge into yet an even bigger ripple and swell. There will also be times when my words, the ripples and swells will lie still or imperceptible beneath the surface. That is ok for that is what swells and ripples do.
Perhaps it is a concussion but I am left with one final image-why would I leave bread crumbs to a door that I think is stuck? No, I think my words shall be ripples and swells. I pray they will tease, delight, carry and hasten the journey of others or give them reason to pause and just float. Everyone’s path or current will be different than mine, for the path is just that it is every one’s, not mine. And with that, I shall go check out concussions on Web MD and bask in the swells of others. That’s what ripples and swells do. I’ll save the bread crumbs for our lunch on the beach.
note - also posted on my blog
The long strong arm from a production worker who, with one motionless swoop, opened the door cleared my daftness. As I exited the room I warned those I met to be on the alert for the infamous door. They thanked me. Unfortunately I caught a glance of them looking back as the door opened with grace and beauty. Harumfph. I was so not pleased now.
“What do you see when you write?” was the innocent but teasing question asked of me not long ago. I knew the answer. I had visualized it day after day for more decades than I care to count. “Bread crumbs” was my reply. Writing is my way of leaving bread crumbs for those who come down the path after me. Writing was my prayer, my bread crumbs that would hopefully leave a trail for others. Bread crumbs to warn of danger. Bread crumbs to encourage others to not give up there was water just around the bend. Bread crumbs to let them know they were not alone that others had walked this path and were not far away. My words were bread crumbs.
Tonight I see a different image. My words are no longer bread crumbs. My words are ripples, little swells in the ocean of life. A water skier can use them to gain speed. A child floating may giggle as the swell tickles its way underneath the raft. Another boat may follow the current left by the swell. A renegade beach ball may be pulled from the shore by the swells. The course they take, the path and current they travel are their own. Our ripples and swells may crash against each other and merge into yet an even bigger ripple and swell. There will also be times when my words, the ripples and swells will lie still or imperceptible beneath the surface. That is ok for that is what swells and ripples do.
Perhaps it is a concussion but I am left with one final image-why would I leave bread crumbs to a door that I think is stuck? No, I think my words shall be ripples and swells. I pray they will tease, delight, carry and hasten the journey of others or give them reason to pause and just float. Everyone’s path or current will be different than mine, for the path is just that it is every one’s, not mine. And with that, I shall go check out concussions on Web MD and bask in the swells of others. That’s what ripples and swells do. I’ll save the bread crumbs for our lunch on the beach.
note - also posted on my blog
FAITH
'For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways.' Declares the LORD.
Isaiah 55:8
My eldest son has found reading the Bible a comfort and a life line. He is only 18 years old and is wise beyond his years. He sends me texts every now and then with messages from the Bible, like the one above.
When I first read it I could not understand what it meant. I was having a bad week and I wasn't really in the mood for cryptic puzzles.
That evening, It dawned on me what the verse meant, at least what it meant to me.
We expect a certain outcome or we have certain expectations in life, especially to do with being good or bad.
For example, we expect that if we are a good person, kind, loving, hard working that bad things shouldn't happen to us.
Who ever told us this??
We expect that we should have no problems in life and that if we do then it is God's punishment for something we did, or it is bad luck or a curse or karma.
Who says it is any of the above or anything else anyone has ever said?
'For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways.'
This verse helped me snap out of the little tight box that I had put myself in regarding what was happening to me in my 'bad' week. It dawned on me that whatever we measure happiness or sadness by is not how God measures it.
We are not meant to understand how God works, only trust and have faith. If you would rather replace God with Source or the Divine, then to me it is all the same (Not that my son would agree.)
In summary, by releasing the need to know the 'Why, is this happening to me?' and trusting that there is a higher meaning to this and seeing your 'problem' with God's mind your life will not necessarily be problem less, but you will never feel alone again.
(POST TAKEN FROM MY BLOG)
Hello, I love you, let me tell you my name
I've lived a hundred places, but Kansas has been my home for the last ten years. I'm a nonprofit professional who works too many hours, a mother of two exceptional kids (what other kind are there?), a sometimes world traveler, a wife, a neglectful housekeeper and a dreamer extraordinaire, and I write around the corners of all of this. My goal is to mother, travel, housekeep, etc, around the corners of my writing. I think that's a reasonable goal.
In my early twenties I developed an all-consuming passion for Australia and spent six months there, traveling and falling in love with the land, one stretch of empty red desert at a time. In my early thirties I moved to an island off the coast of Seattle and lived right next to the Sound. I walked along the water every day and saw seals and orcas and bald eagles and this filled me up. In my early forties I started writing again after a 15-year hiatus and realized I had been a fool to stop. Why do we ever stop doing the things that make us feel alive?
I get a lot of migraines so I spend a quarter of my life hopped up on Vicodin, or so it seems. While this causes me to run into walls and is a serious drain on my PTO, it doesn't seem to hinder my writing. Or maybe it does and I'm just too stoned to know. I've ordered a new head from Amazon but it hasn't arrived yet.
I'm a serious optimist. I really believe anything is possible if you think you deserve it (you do) and are willing to work for it. And by anything, I mean anything within reason, not being an astronaut at age 70 or sprouting wings or willing your boobs to grow six cup sizes. I mean don't sell your dreams short just because 95% of the world does. Believe in yourself and fucking drive one home or you.
If I were an animal I'd be a cat. Not the domestic variety. Something big and wild and a little lazy. If I were a pair of shoes I'd be something comfortable that you could wear hiking or to the market. If I were a body part I'd be a breast (size C). If I were a flower, I wouldn't be, I'd be a tree. If I were a sport I'd be luge. If I could fly, god I would.
I started a blog a few months ago and it has been a joy. I've made so many connections and met so many other writers from around the world and I think I love them all. Blogging makes the world small and accessible. My blog is called Wanderlust and if you want to know what I'm about, here are some of my more popular posts. Go on. Read it. It's better than sex.* In the meantime I'm going to go check you out.
* Maybe, depending upon how good you are in bed.
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