Being Fully in Life – Soltahr Tiv-Amanda, MA, LPC

A room to oneself

I sit in my new little room–freshly painted last week, that is now my place of escape. I am so excited for this new thing in my life, as I’ve not had a room of my own that wasn’t like a prison, where I could be with just myself–to write, read, craft and perhaps once it gets all decorated even take a quick nap. Though most of all, I am excited that I have a place where I will be able to meet clients and perhaps get into my new yet old work–Shamanistic healing.

I have so much to ponder, and I’ve not had anywhere to be just to think, to be alone in my introverted way–to be quiet or to cry, speak to others, whatever it is that I wanted to do–alone.
I love my partner and my kids, yet, it has felt claustrophobic for me in recent years to have nowhere to escape the noise, the TV, the weird music, the intensity. Already, I feel a sense of restfulness, of calm that I didn’t know I’d missed.

Virginia Woolf was one who thought that every woman should have a room of her own. I agree with her, I don’t know how I made it without. I know–I felt lost, I felt ungrounded, I felt like a refugee, in the way, out of place. But here I am, in my own little space, feeling safe, feeling strong, feeling good. I feel blessed.

Having gotten older, it seems there is so much to ponder. I remember when I was young, and so much was going on, so much was happening, and I often felt such a sense of bewilderment at all the change. It is very much the same now. My body is changing. I am becoming slower, now I find I have asthma and feel out of breath when the wind blows just so, and smoke, dust, pollution,, etc. are an assault to me. Then there’s the pain in my spine, the aching in my joints, the fact that awakening in the morning is a prayer, a thanksgiving, as well as a struggle, just to get onto my feet and become vertical.

My mind is not as it was. I was a college professor once, and I so enjoyed the academic discourse with my students, the joy of excercising ones mind, of learning, and of growth. My mind is still intact, but Goddess knows, I can barely remember my own name some days! I write things down endlessly, I found a little app on my phone to take notes, I don’t always know what my partial thoughts mean, but at least they’re there, and I can know that I can come back to them should I need to.

My emotions are all over the place. I face death at the most random times, and it’s painful to come to grips with a constant reality that people come and go and that those whom I’ve loved will someday be gone–as will I. I have developed a new kind of anxiety, that I don’t remember having before. The world was never really safe, but this time in history feels particularly unsafe, and it feels as though we are constantly living as if to stay out of harms way. To live now, means that if one has their heart open, there is a constant breakage. To watch the cruelty and lack of humaness from the leaders of my country is hard.

Yet, through it all, my spirit feels strong and intact. Each day I am grateful to my Gods for all that I have, and I know that I am certainly luckier than some–I have a home, I have food, I have income of sorts and I have much love in my life in the form of my children, their partners, my partner, my friends and those of my family who still are able to see and love me. I have a small community of like-minded spirits who see me and honor my elderness, and my desire to be of service and offer my wisdom for as long as I breathe breath.

So I will sit here a little longer, enjoy the quiet, enjoy my aloneness, enjoy my place to be. I feel blessed.

In offering for the wisdom, strength and love of the Mothers of my people

Yemaya, Oshun, y Oya

Yemaya, Oshun, y Oya
Mothers of my people
Mothers of Africa
You who watched your stolen children
Float away on great big boats—so, so very long ago.
Since then you have watched us
You have loved us,
You never forgot us
And many of us never forgot you.
And so your spirits followed us to these shores
You moved among us in these new lands
To Brazil, Cuba, Trinidad, America, and all across
this continent.
You called forth your children
To remember, and we remembered.
Your protected us down through the ages
Yemaya, Mother of the oceans, you offered water
for our thirsty souls.
Oshun of the sweet waters, Goddess of love,
You reminded us to love and take care of each other.
Oya, Mother of the Winds, Fire and Flames
Through all the terrible times, you were there.
helping us to keep the flame of hope alive within us
and to never give up, or give in and to keep on fighting.
You taught us to remember our ancestors.
We uttered your names—Yemaya, Oshun, y Oya,
Mothers of my people!
We called out to you,
You heard us, you answered us and you came to us,
And we have remembered your power, your presence and your love.
Yemaya, Oshun, y Oya, Mothers of our people
Mothers of those Africans long, long ago
From whom we sprang, from whom we were stolen
Our ancestors, our Mothers, we honor you, we utter your names
YEMAYA, OSHUN, OYA!

Deflation, Inflation–same pain

And so, I was reminded of something the other day–a lesson I learned many moons ago. If you notice a pattern that people you have cared about, that you thought cared about you, are leaving your life, it might be wise to consider the possibility that it might not always be about them–it might just be about you.

I am watching a set of young folks struggle with this. They have seen part of a group they started depart last year, and now I have had to leave them after one of them “threw me under the bus” while I was trying to make things right. At my age, my patience has grown so very thin. They are truly good people, and I hope they learn the lesson before it’s too late. As it is, I cannot be around them just now.

I was in my 30’s when this lesson came to me, and I learned. I looked deeply at myself for quite awhile. I explored the parts of my ego that I had been indulging for too long, the parts of me that desperately wanted to be better than others because I felt so bad about who I was. I also wanted to believe that they were wrong, and they were the bad people, and I was self-righteously–right. I had a lot to learn about self-love.

I think we often believe that when we are acting from “ego” it is because it is overinflated, which often it is. In my case, it was an ego that had been deflated by beng an abandoned child, by being a fat Black girl in thin White American culture, and being extraordinarily shy–probably for some of the above reasons. Yet, coming from deflation is often as hurtful to others as coming from inflation. In either case, one is oblivious to the damage they are causing, and there is a need for one to look within. One is hurting others without seeing how, and it is a really harsh lesson to take in.

I can only say that of all the many lessons of my life, I am very grateful for this one. I am very grateful to have learned about myself at a time when I could change my course for the better. Don’t get me wrong, it was a really hard lesson, but I’m glad for that lesson, as I wouldn’t have wanted to keep hurting people. Transformation took some time, and I had some really great teachers along the way.

Teachers come in so many forms. For me, they came in the harsh forms of abusive boyfriends and husbands, because I didn’t believe I deserved better. Often they were in my self-destructive actions, because I mostly was hurt, myself, I remember lashing out at others as well, so either way, hurt happened.

I am glad that I had this lesson, as it taught me so much about what damange childhood abandonment did to me, as well as what life as a Black child in America had caused me to believe about myself.

Yet…
I am grateful for the many lessons of my life…I am truly and deeply grateful.

The Hidey Place…

The Hidey Place

When I was a little girl, the only child of African ancestry in my neighborhood and school, I struggled greatly with the world outside of myself—I still do. Being a vast introvert (though there wasn’t a word for it then that I knew of) I was astounded at the way that people responded to me, so, I learned to hide, I found a tiny place inside of myself where I could go to be alone and shut the world out.

I suspect many children of color learn this trick, or children who are sensitive, nervous or who grow up in a family where the environment is too stimulating or scary.

I loved this place, I would lay on my bed after school, close my eyes and feel a warmth surround me. I later learned, when I was meditating at Naropa, that this was a very lovely place to be in. I learned there, to let go of thoughts, fears, anguish, worries, and just be in the moment, but that came much later.

As a child, I was continuously besieged by other kids or my culture or anyone who didn’t understand the simple truth that underneath my brown skin is a person with thoughts, feelings and also great strength. Yet, when young, I was often at a loss as to how to fight off these forces that seemingly sought to destroy me, so I went within. When older, I’d get lost in music and poetry and writing. Later, I learned sewing and other crafts that I could devote the creative part of my being to without having to seriously attend to the things that were scary or threatening. Yet, also being able to bring forth things of beauty to marvel at, and to feel a sense of accomplishment and pride—things so greatly needed by my being.

Unfortunately, as a young woman in my 20’s, off to college for the first time, I learned other skills to deal with my pain—alcohol, weed, and lots of music and sex. Yet, still, at the end of the day, there was this part of me that still felt lost and so turned inward to that warm safe place from which to operate and find personal understanding. I am, and continue to be grateful that I have always been able to adapt and find inner pathways to care for my gentle and loving being who was striving just to have a place in the world.

When I got to Naropa, it seemed that I learned a whole new set of skills by different labels with which to work with things. Yet, there was an added component of what was titled “Mindfulness”, that meant all of those things I’d been escaping for all those years in my hidey place were suddenly being brought up and out into the open spaces of my being. They were painful and harsh—some of them. Others were just enlightening in a way that helped me to better love and understand myself, with all my fears and anger, as well as hopes and dreams. While some of what was there was very old, I got to explore it with a subtle honesty that helped me to find within, a sense of great sanity, acceptance and self-love for all that I had experienced, and the ways I’d created for myself to survive.

Yet, there was this other troubling piece from my time at Naropa, that I’ve only come to parse now. There was this idea of what they call “egolessness”. It seemed to me at the time, that I had just found my ego, and now, like every other force in my life, I was being asked to give up (what I thought to be) one more vital part of myself. Now, however, almost two decades later, I get it. My ego is nothing more than a holding onto all I thought I was, and all I put on a mask for the world to see. My ego wasn’t by any stretch of the imagination who I really am. While I am still in process, as an elder now, of exploring who I am with my elder friends, I have come to a place of peacefulness with it all. My ego is no longer an issue, and it’s been intriguing to find out certain things I really didn’t know while I was a Naropian struggling to make it to the cushion.

What I’ve come to understand is that the path to egolessness is a long one, and it doesn’t happen overnight. It is a conscious process of recognizing that there are parts of ourselves that we really don’t need, the hidey place of my past has been transformed into something more workable. It is a place of peace and solace still, but I go there as a way of finding myself, not losing myself. I go there as a way of being present to life and the world, when it feels as though it is all too much, and too overwhelming. I am truthful with myself while there, I can respond to the world outside, because I find in my peaceful place, she who was always there–the remnants of the little girl who sought this place also seeking peace.

In that peace, I find compassion—that quality of such importance that I didn’t truly comprehend until now. Why now? Because I can have deep and abiding love for all that little girl struggled with, and have a place of softness for her, for she helped me to where I am. That softness can also extend out to others who struggle with all that they are and all they experience, as life carries us along, like a great heaving, flowing river…

Peace is no longer an illusive state of being, but one that is always available when one is able to let go of the noise on a breath, when one is able to breathe through the difficulties, and when one is able to be honest with oneself about the sources of fear, anger, sorrow and all of the other emotions that can plague one. They are old friends I get to visit, they too lay softly in my embrace, and fade away on my out breath, like wisps of smoke on the wind.

It doesn’t mean I am not connected to the world or the people in it, or my family, friends or even myself. What it does mean, is that I am able to love from a place of acceptance of the hardness of life, as well as all the beauty around me, within me and outside of me as well.

My ego? Well, here I am writing about this, as if I know something, eh? Truly I know nothing but that I am learning to be guided by a love such as I’ve never known, and acceptance, and that I honor the strength and wisdom that has gotten me here, as well as the beautiful spirits of the many, both here now, and the ancestors before me who have granted me their attendance, hope, and unending love.

Life Truly Changes Us

It has been sometime since I last made a post here on my website blog. Like many, life happens while we’re happily blogging away, and suddenly we are caught up in other things that take up our time and energies. For me, it has been physical pain.

I was in a car accident in June of 2014, and the outcomes of that accident continue to affect me. I have had to literally retrain my brain to work in different ways than it used to. I have had to get physical therapy, massage, acupuncture, and many other sorts of bodywork, aimed at, and with the goal that my body would start to feel better. In some ways it has, in others–not.

Being who I am, I have learned to adapt. I am intelligent, so have figured out ways to make my life work so that I could continue to go on with it in some form or fashion. I am magical, so have put out the intentions to find the people/healers I need to help me. All of these methods combined, have helped me to be in a place where I can start to feel like I have a handle on things–more or less.

I wish I could say I’m all better, and my physical issues are all behind me–they’re not. I have degenerating disks in my spine, and by virtue of that term, they won’t get better, my spine won’t suddenly fall back together like a movie run from end to beginning. So, I incorporate my Naropa training to get me through. I breathe a lot, I breathe through the chronic pain that plagues me, and I live my life moment by moment. I cannot look to the future, I cannot dwell over on the past–I am where I am, right here, right now.

You might wonder how do I get through this? See above. Yet, added to it all is a rich ancestor practice, and a spiritual path that gives my life meaning. I have two talented beautiful kids, a partner that loves me, a connection with the divine and those who have gone before, and a sense that all is unfolding as it should, and when it’s time for me to leave this life, I will–no fear, no anguish, no strain on my part.

This may sound like gloom and doom, and yet, I feel a strong sense of hope. On this, the last day of this year, I look at where the country of my birth is headed, and I feel both sadness and hopefulness. I see young folks who are stepping up and recognizing the need to be fully engaged with this life they are creating for themselves and their children. To hold anger toward previous generations is an argument that holds no water. Each generation does what it can, and the work continues, as it is a work in progress–always.

The sadness I feel? As one who is evolved, and who is in contact with the collective unconscious, I see a very poor choice of president, who has as his goal the desire to take us back to another place and time, who has no feelings for the people he got to support him. He cares not about the little people, he cares only for money and power as the 1% always have.

The other sadness I feel is a sense of deep grief that the amazing and wonderful president Obama is leaving office. He who gave us as Black people so much hope, our children so much to be inspired by, and a nation a taste of something we never thought we would. May history look back someday and see how much he truly accomplished despite all that was done to stand in his way. Plain and simple, I will miss him greatly.

As this old year ends, I wish for a release, and as the new year begins, may we all find peace, prosperity, love, and understanding between us all.

Many blessings,

Soltahr

Living in Kindness

“When you are inspired by some great purpose… dormant forces, faculties, and talents become alive, and you discover yourself to be a greater person by far than you ever dreamed yourself to be.” –Patanjali

It seems at times that the world we are currently living in has become, well–unkind. I won’t dwell on the many events we’ve been bombarded with on a day to day basis. My work as a therapist has been as important to me, as I hope it has been to the many clients I’ve worked with over the last 16 years. I love my work. I have loved each and every one of my clients.

To be able to sit with and compassionately watch the struggles of so many people has had the wonderful effect of softening my heart. I have listened to so many stories of pain, heartbreak, violence, struggle, and abuse. I have done all I could do to lighten the load of pain that folks have carried, and tried to interject into their lives a sense of purpose and self-worth. When folks begin to feel a sense of purpose, they can, from there, start to feel a sense of self-love that I try to foster, and encourage with all my heart.

It is easy to feel small, I felt small for a great part of my life, due to the outside influences of racism, sexism and size-ism. Over time, and through my meditation practice, I had to first be able to sit with myself, to be with all that I am, my foibles, failings and mistakes, yet, always holding within me the awareness that I could still be of value to the world around me. From this place of being valuable, I could bring all that I am to the table of life so that I and others might feel ful-filled. I am not starved, and I have all that I need, when I am giving from the abundance of all that I have been given.

When I speak of what I have been given, I am not speaking of material possessions, but of the training and skills I received in my Masters program, as well as all the experiences I’ve had in my life that like the fire of the forge have shaped me into who I am.

It is this I am joyful to bring to life. This is what fearlessness has meant to me, and to those I work with. I can help others because there is nothing to fear, except ones inability to enter fully into life, and to hold back that which is of such great, great value.

A short time ago, I was with an old friend who surprised me by asking for a copy of my book, because she is inspired by me, and needed to feel my strength. I have pondered this and realized how honored I am that she shared this with me, as I feel humbled by the many life forces that have touched me and given me chances to grow and become. This is not to say that my life has been one of beauty and ease, for I have witnessed much that is ugly, much that is harsh, and downright painful. Yes, there has been beauty, but it has been the difficult events, situations and people that have tempered me. That, and a great deal of laughter, tears, and endless deep breaths.

I don’t want to move into preaching, I simply wish and hope that there would be some way that our world would shift, and be able to start living in kind, strengthening ways with each other. To tear others down, and to dispel what they most need is the deepest tragedy our world has going on. It has to stop.

So, thank you Joyce for sharing with me how I have inspired you, I am grateful to know that all has been for reason, and that even if I were to pass from this life today, I would leave knowing that my purpose in being was in some small way fulfilled. It enlivens me to know that this is what I can offer. I sincerely hope that each and every being finds their purpose, calling, and strength. Blessings to you all…

No more suffering, and why can’t we take Him Down!

I’ve worked with the Transgender community for a number of years, and have often been called upon to speak from the point of view as a therapist, and most recently as a clergy person working with this community.

I was asked to speak, as part of a panel of three clergy from various traditions, at CU Boulder at the TRANSforming Gender conference this weekend. I’ve not spoken in public in recent times, so it was a wonderful thing to be asked, as we Pagans are often left out, because we haven’t always been seen as a “valid religion”.

Many years ago, I remember my coven at the time and I went to see “The Last Temptation of Christ” at the local Unitarian Church in Colorado Springs. We were all, at that time, fairly new to the Pagan path, and as we know of developmentally, touchy about how were viewed and spoken of. I remember clearly, before going into the movie, being confronted with a local man who was known for his life-size cross on wheels that he took to any number of events and places around Colorado Springs–the Gay Pride parade, abortion clinics, and any other event where his version of Christianity and his beliefs were, as he thought, being maligned.

What I remember was at some point in the verbal confrontation, he said, “well, your Goddess is a Whore!”. We were all righteously angry, and he was then met with a barrage of words from the rest of us, until eventually, it was time for the movie, and we left he and his small band of followers out in the street, while we went in to see the movie.

As I think back on that day, I now find myself chuckling as I think about how there are indeed some of the various Goddesses who wouldn’t necessarily be insulted by that title, and who might even be laughing along with me, as I thought about it.

Spiritually/Developmentally, I guess I’ve come along. Over time, and hopefully, as we grow on our spiritual path, I like to think we become more open minded. We get to branch out, learn more, be interconnected with people on our own path whose beliefs might be vastly different than our own. If we get to those later stages of spiritual development, we can then be around, welcome, accept, have interesting dialog with people of other spiritual paths who have themselves worked at being open minded, and even find common ground together.

Today, I found myself speaking with a sense of deeper understanding. I have no need to argue prophesy or philosophy with my fellow clergy, as we have hopefully gone beyond that place of needing to convince one another of the “rightness” of our beliefs, and hopefully, we can be open and honest about the journey we have each taken that has led us to where we are now. The anger is gone, the self-righteousness is gone, the fear of retribution or retaliation are gone. We are, hopefully, truly being “spiritual people having a human experience”.

So, there I was rambling along, speaking about my years as a “bright young Christian” girl, who truly and deeply wanted to understand the “faith” I had been raised in as a child. I spoke about some of the thoughts I had as a kid, and later as a young person who came to the realization that I wasn’t on a spiritual path that could feed me and I, quite literally, felt starved. I remember sitting there in church, most especially on or around Easter, when the pictures and statues of Christ on the cross were thrust before us as the symbol of our religion. I never did understand what we were supposed to take from this. As a child, I found it horrifying, the poor man hanging there on the cross, a crown of thorns thrust upon his head, bleeding from the various wounds he’d been given by the Roman soldiers, etc. As a much older person, looking back, I realized that the most pervasive thought I had as a young person was quite frankly and literally, why doesn’t someone take him down? Oh my God! Please take him down!

It never did make sense to me that this symbol was the take away. Were we to strive to be hung on a cross? Were we to strive to live a life of suffering and ultimately to be hung up to die? As I grew up a young, and later as an older African American woman, I learned in more than a few ways what suffering looked like. I learned how it felt to be ridiculed as Christ was, but to be hung on a cross? Did I want to continue along those lines? NO! Just no.

Coming to my spiritual path as I did, I came to understand that our symbols–our many various symbols are pictures of beauty, and pictures of the goodness, and the bounty of Mother Earth. I came to see that to continue to follow a religion that had its roots far away in the Middle East did not reflect me or who I am, or wanted to become. When I saw in my hands for the first time, the little round, brown Venus of Willendorf, I was stunned. Could it be that the divine could indeed be in a form that I could relate to? Could it be that the Divine was a form that was simply about being, not about some horrifying specter I’d been taught to worship.

When I studied at Naropa–the Buddhist “Inspired” University in Boulder, I was given yet another take on suffering. Their take on it was that life was indeed about suffering, but that we get to choose whether or not we wanted to, or felt the need to suffer.

As I have become an elder woman, I am now dealing with a new body that has at times become unknown to me, and I have had to learn to see myself in different ways. I also get to decide how I will walk on my path for the next years until my eventual demise. Will I be a straining fearful closed up old woman? Or could I choose to just get out in the world as I am, free to see the world as I wish, free to interact with it as I will, free to say and share my truth and experience?

I choose to have as my symbols, tiny creatures who eat at my feeder, bright yellow flowers who fill my heart and eyes with wonder, sunsets that are a thing of awe in their colors and expanse across a horizon. And death…I’d like to not suffer as I’m going out–in fact, I don’t think I will choose to.

I like to think that we who want to be seen as spiritual paths that are open and welcoming to people of all cultural groups have grown up, and can see with clear eyes what is most important that we put forward as our wisdom to the world. I like to think that in our maturity on our various paths, we can laugh at ourselves. If our paths are not about joy and about not taking ourselves so seriously, then why are we there? If we take ourselves so seriously that we cannot look through the eyes of a child and see what a child sees, then what truly, are we then seeing?

Facing Death…

A few weeks ago, my former Mother-in-law passed on, then, a few weeks later, I got news, via Facebook that a very dear friend and former teacher of mine–Lynn Johnson, had passed away peacefully in her sleep. I am grateful that I had gotten to see her a couple of months ago. She’d written me a few weeks back saying that we needed to get together for lunch again, and spend more time with each other…this never happened. Today, a priestess I never met, but who was a part of my spiritual community–Morning Glory Zell-Ravenhart passed to Summerland. For years now, I have been sort of holding my breath as I hear of yet another passing of someone in my world, known or unknown, distant or close…

I find myself experiencing a grief that seems unending, deeper than what I may have experienced at other times in my life. With my friend Lynn, I was struck with such sadness, because there was still so much I wanted to talk to her about, so much I’d wanted to ask her about her own healing work, as she was one of two of the most amazing teachers and healers that I’ve known in my life. Her partner Gary “Moonhawk” Butler was the other–he had passed on 4 years ago.

I have been left with such a feeling of aloneness and emptiness. I realized that in my life, despite how many people seem to “know” me, I have few very deep friendships, very few people I can call on when I’m in need, or just want to talk. Lynn had moved to Denver from Colorado Springs a few months ago, I was so glad to know that she was near. I had great hopes of calling her more often. We’d both even joked that as introverts, we found it hard to reach out to others. Apparently this is a major problem that I need to look at, if it keeps me from connecting with people I love, and that they are passing from this life without my finding a way to see them or even just hear their voices.

I think there are people in our lives who, while not related by blood, are of our spiritual family. We have traveled around together for lifetimes, meeting again and again and doing the work we have been chosen/asked to do. I hesitate to think of myself in the caliber of Lynn and Gary as a healer, though it’s hard to guage, given that I have chosen psychotherapy as my main healing modality. As I grow older, I have noticed my skills and my intuition deepening and becoming stronger. I hoped there was more that Lynn and I could have shared.

Growing up , as I have in this culture, finding others of like mind and spirit who are loving, gentle and kind has been a treasure, and what seems in my mind, to be rare. I’m not shallow or closed off, I couldn’t do my work if I were that way. It’s simply that I’ve become highly intuitive and aware of the “vibe” that each person puts out. I know within moments when there are people I want to get close to, or not. I couldn’t tell you how I know. As a kinesthetic, I feel a person out, I notice how they move, how they look at me, how they speak to me, how they speak to others, how they just–are. So for me, finding “my people” has been a beautiful thing. This musing about death has become ongoing–as it would be at this point in life. The elders didn’t tell us about this part of getting older–but then, how could they describe it, and how could a young person understand it?

As I look back on what I wrote a few days ago, I feel that I am moving along. I still get very sad when I think of Lynn and my ancestors. Yet, they are there for me. It may sound strange, but they speak to me, they are around me when I feel lost or sad, or anxious about life. I think perhaps, the elders didn’t want to scare young people by telling stories about how you begin to feel the other side more clearly, more surely. The other night, I had a dream of my Aunt Dodie, who passed on in 2001. I was hugging and kissing her, and feeling that I’d never thought I’d be able to do that again. Perhaps it is preparation–I don’t know, I don’t know…

What I do know is that it helps me to speak of my journey, and in writing about it, I can somehow make more sense of it. In the end, I won’t truly know , until I pass between the veils, and well, it will be what it will be…

Blessed Bees!

Many of us have been watching the decline of the bee population with great consternation, and it’s getting more crucial all the time. I was planting near an already flowering plant that should have been abuzz with happy bees. I counted 4.

I grew up with bees in our old family home here in Colorado. In my childhood home, we actually had a hive living in our chimney. Yes, I was stung a couple of times, but really, they were just being busy, doing their little (actually their BIG) bee things, and I’d just gotten in the way. They particularly loved the rose bushes that were on a fence that we shared with our neighbor Mrs. Raider. They also dug on the lilac bushes that surrounded our yard.

Some folks say, well, there’s too much to be done, it’s not a simple fix. We know that. Others have said, well we see plenty of bees all the time. Wow, really? What is different about where you are? And, others might realistically say, I’m allergic to bees, I can’t do anything about it. What we do know is how far bees travel, it’s not necessarily possible to personally meet the bees, but simply caring about them, and their decline. I am most grateful to them for the many luscious fruits, veggies, plants, beautiful flowers, and medicines that they keep going for us humans. I am often moved to tears when I see them and think about how hard they work for us…

I guess I’m asking, what is one thing we each could, or already are doing to save our blessed bees? Would you be willing to share websites you’ve seen, or any ideas you might have? Maybe if each of us did just one small thing or whatever we feel we could take on, to make a difference, we could affect change. I’d like to read whatever we’ve got…Share please? This is no time to pretend this isn’t happening…

Spirits Connecting…

In the early 1990’s in Colorado Springs, the Amendment 2 battle was waged. For those who may not have been in Colorado at that time–it was a proposed amendment by a right wing Christian group to allow for the discrimination against GLBT folks. Sadly, it was passed by “popular” vote, though later was struck down, through the brave and fearless efforts of a number of folks who were willing to be party to a lawsuit (one such person was an amazing woman who happened to be a Methodist minister and teacher at Naropa–Priscilla Inkpen–who passed on a few years ago.

In the aftermath of that battle (in which many people were hurt) a number of the non right wing groups got together and formed an ecumenical council. Another priestess and I joined the group, and what happened during that year of healing was priceless to me. We purposely went around to each of the various “churches” learning about each others ways and practices.

I was struck by the openness and welcoming that each of the participants showed to each other when they were the host of the meeting. We got to tour parts of a Mormon temple, open our hearts by singing “HU” with the Eckankar folks, and sat in the pews of the Methodist and UU Churches. It was truly precious to me however to see all of these folks gathered in our circle in “The Grove” we Pagans met in. While some looked a tad uncomfortable, there was joy, healing, and understanding bursting forth in abundance.

Oddly, there was no proselytizing or anyone touting their path as the “one true and right way”. I letf Colorado Springs after a year in the group, but that time remains in my heart as a special time. We got to know each other as individuals and as equals, as well as being able to dispel rumors and misunderstandings about all of our various ways. Of course, it was clear to me and to others as well that we wouldn’t be joining each others’ path, but it was important work. Inherent in that work was the importance of explaining in depth what our belief systems were, and the various intricacies and importance to us, of our vastly diverse practices. Through those explanations and teachings I now have a respect for those groups that I may have gotten any other way.

I have been quietly visiting various of the open Earth based groups in town, and have felt welcomed and joyful at the discovery of similarities and differences in how we work. I have learned much, and hope to learn more before the journey is through. I have, through my time visiting with the Lakota at Pine Ridge been able to witness small parts of their ways, and came away with a well of respect and gratitude for who the First Nations of this country are. I came away with no need to delve further than I was offered, and of course, no need to take anything from them that was not mine to take.

Last evening I learned a harsh lesson that I cannot assume that we are alike in ALL ways. Being a part of various groups and trained to follow a certain adamant belief about sacred space and that one must not enter it late unless there is an allowance for an outrider who will “cut” you in . So, assuming this practice to be the same, I sadly missed the rite and sharing with folks, as I sat in my car outside–having only the information that I could come for the “fellowship” after. I later learned that I could have just come on in at any point, and it would have been ok. This wasn’t explicit to me ahead of time, and I wouldn’t have known.

On the positive side though, I got to sit with a “note to self” to ask/implore that we find ways to come to deeper understanding with each other as groups and as individuals. I got to learn about the amazing and deep practices of two women at the gathering who happen to be sisters, who have studied their tradition in depth. One is a Bard and storyteller, who proceeded to share with me a story from one of her books–complete with voice inflections and even natural special effects! As she w as telling the story, the wind came up at just the right point in the story, and as her story came to a close, the wind settled. I get goose bumps now as I remember that moment. And while I wasn’t able to be there for the rites, I was treated to a very special gift of story that I will now–never forget…

I realize that not all groups are open. I’m also aware that many religious/spiritual groups are closed because they have been taken from without the rich contextual information that goes with any set of practices.

Many years ago, I learned about what was called by this particular Native American individual–“the rejoining of the Sacred Hoop”. Our world will not be set aright until we begin/learn to put down the weapons of derision and misunderstanding, and seek for ways to come together. No one path is truly or really any better/lower/less than any other, as it is important to those who practice it.

I think that we are here to find ways to connect more deeply to the divine, in whatever form we see or feel it. with an inner awareness, that we too are a part of all that is divine. There will be no peace until the Sacred Hoop is rejoined, and we are all the ones to make that happen.