Monday: Content or Discontent

Be Content with what you have; rejoice in the way things are. When you realize there is nothing lacking, the whole world belongs to you.

Lao Tzu



In the midst of discomfort and even depression, it is often difficult to be content or to even rejoice. However, there is something very interesting to remember in the roller coaster that is life there will always be ups and downs. We try to maintain a state of stasis but inevitably either our thoughts or events in our life will switch things to another dimension of perception.

In our modern materialist society it is very hard when the bills are due and the money is short to recognize nothing is lacking. We are bombarded with messages from the media through advertisement, through talk shows, through the news that always things are out of balance. Even the wealthy will always feel lack in some way.

I was taught the art of survival by my mother who was seldom if ever seduced by the desire to own more. She was content with what she had and it was very minimalist to say the least. Yet I get caught up by the events and when money seems available do I save for a rainy day? No. And when a rainy day comes am I upset that I was foolish? Yes.

Yet, as I look at the ways things have unfolded, I have to admit that ultimately I am and was the creator of my destiny. Like many Americans and perhaps other cultures I am caught up in the materialistic fantasy that tomorrow will bring greater finances and I will be dancing in the lap of luxury again or at least at Walmart.

However, if I put things in perspective I realize that while I have fears about escalating costs of living and that I am aging and the odds of decreasing good health is probably inevitable I do feel fear. Yet, deep inside at the core, when I can get there and past the garbage that floats through my mind, I find that I am content.

Monday: Musings on past lives

I have reached a time in my life that in retrospect it seems that I have lived many lives just in the sixty some years that I have inhabited this body on this planet.

Sometimes when I look back in time, I say who was that woman and how is she connected to me. My thoughts and dreams and perceptions have so changed over more than a half century that it is definitely a realization that I have been many people as I played the roles of each definition of who I am.

The years before 18 I cannot comprehend. I cannot relate to the energy and the passion and the confusion that was a part of my reality at that time. Well, maybe to the confusion. My eyes looked out to judge me by the reflection in the eyes of others. Was I pretty enough? Did boys like me? Did my family approve? Filled with questions about reactions trying to understand who I was and was I enough.

Then around twenty I became a mother. I looked at my feelings toward my children. My fear of not caring for them well enough. Dealt with the insane mother-in-law and basically just continued to define the new me that was mother and wife. I never found it particularly fun or charming except for moments once in awhile as I gazed at my children learning and developing. Other than that it was a labor intensive, emotional roller coaster that no person in her right mind would ever do if she thought about it outside of lust.

About 28, I started to become a worker in the economy. I had to worry about making money and developing skills. I became a salesperson and learned to be competitive and fight for what I wanted. I began to define me by my performance against others. Not as much looking for approval as looking for a paycheck that said I was doing well.

At 33, I shifted again and went to college where I practiced the path of academia and psychology. I learned to think critically and began to see the world with deeper and wider perceptions. As I graduated and became a therapist I began to develop greater empathy with those who were suffering. It was not how they say me but how I saw them. I began to write and publish my work.

At 48, I began a stronger spiritual journey. I continued studies that I had started in my late twenties when I became an astrologer and spiritual seeker. This was like a returning to another part of me but it was distinctly different. It was at this time that I began to combine my academic training and my spiritual training to become a greater counselor. I finished menopause and my conception of myself began to mutate from sexual to sensual.

Around 55, I began to withdraw from the world and interaction with others and came closer and closer to the cloister of the writer. And till this day this has grown stronger every year with less and impact of the world upon my private world. Unless it causes disruption in my life, I don’t really care what people say about me or what I do. Who I am is reflected in my writing and in my actions and not upon others responses. Now, I must admit that gleeful inner child in me likes applause but basically my drive is propelled by an inner to desire to creatively express my connection on many dimensions including mental, spiritual and physical. As I approach 62, I am excited to know what new me will emerge.

Monkey See Monkey Do

I was born under the Chinese Zodiac sign of the monkey. Monkey is trickster and always keeping things active and stirring up the waters. In meditation, seeking a state of stillness is called stilling the monkey mind.

Monkeys can also be chameleons. They can take on the characteristics of people they are near in order to fit in. Often they are blessed or cursed with empathy. As an empath one actually takes on the feelings of another person. This can be used at times for healing. When someone is born an empath it often takes many years to learn whether what one is feelings is one’s own feelings or something that one is picking up from another person. Often those who appear to be unpredictable and changeable are really empaths reflecting the energy and emotional charge of their environment. This is a highly valuable tool for a therapist or counselor but it must be trained and controlled or you can imagine the madness that could happen.

My husband used to be really embarrassed when I would talk to people because I tend to take on their accents. He thought that I was mocking them. He learned over time that what I was doing was being the Monkey chameleon using my talent of empathy. Now he just sits amazed at times as I switch from sounding like a southerner to northerner and so forth.

The most difficult thing I have to deal with in controlling my empathy and intuitive skills is that I can become vulnerable to other peoples manipulation and emotions. It is then that I have to draw back in solitude to heal my spirit and clear from my soul what is mine and what is not mine.

The Path to Power

Out of suffering have emerged the strongest souls; the most massive characters are seared with scars.

Kahlil Gibran




The path to power is an inner journey. It is a journey that will lead one in many directions as one looks from the inside to the outside trying to resolve the dichotomy of inner perceptions and outer realities. When we face the conflicts between what we desire and what we have we are often wounded. We can be wounded when our expectations are not met as deeply as when people do hurtful things to us either physically or verbally.

Some people are born with a strong sense of self and purpose and they seem to face adversity with little outward showing of the scars of life. Others are just so lacking in perception that what ever happens in life it seems that they don’t even notice and just keep trudging along the path mindlessly. Others suffer from sensitivity so that some of the smallest things will send them reeling into deep angst or having to create illusionary realities to cope with the pain.

When we have honest friends along the way who have no agenda but to help us when things are tough and laugh with us when things are joyful, we find the journey to power less damaging. When we are an honest friend with no agenda but to help another when things are tough and laugh with him or her when things are joyful, he or she will find the journey to power less damaging.

Inner power is not the will to manipulate and control others but a drive to direct one’s own destiny. When we develop the skills to live in power in our minds and soul, we have completed the healing process and we can go forth as wounded healers. This empowerment will lead us on a quickening spiral of spiritual awareness that will bring us closer and closer to the knowledge of a divine spiritual connection that is the seed of power born within each soul.

Today in power I can choose to laugh, to cry, to yell, to dance, to rebel or acquiesce to life. In power, I realize I always have a choice.

My wish for you is that you always walk in power.

And the bird can set you free

It was one of those times when I was in a state of total desolation. I felt lost, betrayed, confused and hurt. I felt that God had cursed me and turned his back upon me. I would find myself sobbing uncontrollably and not even knowing why I was so sad. I had a roof over my head. I had food. I had clothes. I did not have contentment much less happiness.

In many ways I find myself feeling that way right now. I feel overwhelmed by a great sense of sadness and even, almost, just for a moment, devoid of hope.

But then I remembered the lark.

Back at that other time of desolation, I finally threw up my hands and I said: God, if you exist give me a sign.

At that moment, on a very dark and dreary evening, I could see through the windows on the back porch door a bird hovering around the light. I called to Mark and he opened the door and held out his finger and the small creature jumped on. We made a makeshift box and created some food for it. The next day he went and bought a little cage.

I called a friend of mine who had a book on signs. I asked her to look up what this bird might mean. A bird represents God descending to mankind.

All day I thought about this bird and watched him in his little cage. That night was again dreary and so was I. I again said God if this is true please send me another sign.

Out side the window of the door appeared another finch. Mark again held out his finger and the bird jumped on and quickly joined his mate in the cage.

For the next few weeks every where I went I would see telephone lines filled with birds. More than I had ever seen in my life. I would walk out and get in my car and birds would follow me. I can tell you by this time my car was starting to look like it was painted with white polka dots.

I watched the caged birds and on another dreary day, I went and opened the back door and opened the cage door and let them fly free. Suddenly they were met by what seemed like hundreds of birds. As they soared free up toward the heavens the clouds parted and a rainbow appeared.

Yesterday, in another state of desolation that is effecting me still in this morning’s write, I heard the sound of a hawk. I called another friend who is a shaman and explained that for the last few days I had just been seeing dozens and dozens of crows and they just kept talking and talking as if they were talking to me. And also, there had been squirrels trying to get my attention. She explained to me that the crows were messengers and that the squirrel was a sign of gathering and the two combined was a message of success and abundance coming as I shared my words. Then I told her of the hawk. She, as my friend in past had done, had to look this up. The hawk is the sign of great spirit bringing us blessings.

Do not fear the dark, it is there where the light can shine most brightly. This morning this group gave me a candle in a time of darkness.

Wednesday: Make a Joyful Noise.

If you are happy and you know it, your face will surely show it!


This song always makes me smile. I remember as a little girl learning this song in Sunday School. All the kids sounded so happy. Another line goes something like this: If you are happy and you know it, clap your hands. Every one would be giggling and clapping their hands with enthusiasm and while we might not have had a lot of talent we truly made a joyful noise.

Are you making a joyful noise?

As we start to grow older, it seems we become quieter and quieter in our expression of joy and happiness. We often turn to professionals to sing our songs of joy and tears afraid someone might hear us and disapprove. Sometimes we sing in the shower, but do we shower our lives with joyful sounds of song, laughter and dance?

Oh, many of us can raise our voices in anger, but unless one is in a little church in the south, one seldom hears someone raise his or her voice rejoicing like we kids did back before we learned that making a joyful noise was not our inside voice. I want my inside voice to jump out and have some fun. I want to dance and sing and play and not worry about if I will be perfect. If I am having fun, then I am perfect in my heart and where else can perfection be found?

My friend Cate Cavanagh has a wonderful way to let her joyful child out. She grabs her bottle of soapy water and runs around blowing bubbles. Blowing bubbles is truly a joyful expression.

What are you going to do to make a joyful noise today?

Laugh. Giggle. Smile. Lighten up the burdens that you carry.

Remember: to become enlightened one must lighten up!

Tuesday: In my reverie

The mist is covering the mountain but as the shroud slowly slips away the stark trees of black create a mosaic of a keyboard of black on white and in my spirit music begins to play.

Old songs become like black magic evoking memories of love and romance, of mystery and passion, of laughter and pain.

And now the purple haze seductively drifts across the shadows in my mind and I recall the magic of it all.

I remember lying on the floor in the sun room on late summer evening as the moon would rise and my husband Jimmy would play softly to me the jazz that lifts my soul to ecstacy. Nothing but a darkened room with windows open to the moon and the words in my head go with the melody and reach up unto heaven. I would often feel that my spirit left my body and traveled up into the universe carried by each note that would be evoked as his hands stroked the keys.

As I sit and write and look at the trees creating the illusion of keys across the mist, music plays in my headset and my reverie becomes deeper and more longing while being truly in a state of joy. Fred Astaire is singing Putting on the Ritz... Dressed up like a million dollar trooper.... trying to look like Mr. Cooper. My hands begin to type in the rhythm of the music in ears. And now it switches, and the jazz moves forward 10 or 20 years and Rosemary Cloony fills my memories with I cried for you and now it is your turn to cry for me... can their be any greater magic than music that connects you to memories that were so amazing. Dancing. Swaying. Swinging. Feeling love as dance bands begin that happy rhythm. And I see myself smiling at Jimmy and I hear myself singing along... saying I cried for you now it is your turn to cry over me.

A gentle strum on the guitar joins the piano Dreamsville comes on and I feel like I am again floating on the notes up to the universe.

My fingers stop, my eyes close, and I remember summer nights, the windows open to the full moon, and the notes from the piano carrying me up in quiet joy and I forgive and forget the bad and stay in a few moments of pure contentment.

Guest Muser -- Sir William

This is an exceptional write by my friend Sir William which he posted to the group http://yahoogroups.com/free_writers This is posted with permission.

Excerpt from an interview:

BILL MOYERS: Do you ever have the sense of... being helped by hidden hands?

JOSEPH CAMPBELL: All the time. It is miraculous. I even have a superstition that has grown on me as a result of invisible hands coming all the time - namely, that if you do follow your bliss you put yourself on a kind of track that has been there all the while, waiting for you, and the life that you ought to be living is the one you are living. When you can see that, you begin to meet people who are in your field of bliss, and they open doors to you. I say, follow your bliss and don't be afraid, and doors will open where you didn't know they were going to be.

I rejoice that it not too late. Not too late to let go of the unchangeable past. Keep the lessons; spit out the guilt and remember the fun. There were a lot of fun times. And with that frame of mind, and a silly grin on my puss, I venture forth into every new day to have a good time of it.

I came to realize that bliss is exponential. And the equation is as simple as smiling. The more time you spend following your bliss, the greater number of doors to be opened. Spend a lot of time moaning and "If-only"ing, and all those doors remain closed. Zero will ever be zero.

Free-writers turned out to be a beautifully carved Teak door. Upon entry I discovered unexplored and unknown talents. More doors were opened for me by other members of this group, where love and encouragement and wisdom resides.

Public Access Television will soon be cablecasting in my geographic area. This is a huge door for me. Having been involved with P.A.T.V. in Albuquerque, I produced some decent shows that remained in their library for a number of years. But I had no true direction.

Verily doth visions of program production appear from the mists of my inner fog machine, which is used a lot when my left brain holds a rave. A program comprised of vignettes inspired in part by prompts from this group.

The magic of adrenalin and endorphin surges and gently wanes. Waves from Imagination Bay. Crikey what a rush.

I've determined that my doors will be on the plethora of islands throughout the bay. Each island is unique. I have chosen this scenario to help overcome my greatest obstacle; fear of the unknown.

During the family cruise, several years ago, I would lean on the railing watching the wake of our ship. A plastic jug caught my attention. Our ship surged by and the jug quickly became a distant speck and then was gone. I visualized myself being suddenly overboard and the safety of the ship is gone. I'm completely on my own. The kicker here is, I was visualizing this as a result of my jumping overboard. This is a true story, and I've contemplated upon it many times since.

Understand that I had no thoughts of doing it for real. And it has recently dawned on me that it was William pointing out to William that the greatest fears are imagined. It took a while for William Yang to accept the obvious.

And so, I hereby commit to my dream of producing for the screen. And my creative goals for the immediate future are writing the first couple of shows and attending the workshops beginning this coming Saturday.

I apologize for writing so much and saying so little - about the program itself - but more to come.

Monday: The Truth Set Me Free

While New Year’s Day is supposed to feel like the start of something to me it was the ending of something.

And, that is definitely a good thing.

Trying to explain it is very difficult because it was so intensely emotional for me. Trying to explain it so I don’t sound like a big whiney baby kind of thing is much more difficult. Accepting my responsibility in the situation may be the most difficult of all.

I met a person who contracted with me to help her with a project. When we first met she seemed a little unusual and I felt some trepidation but what the heck it was supposedly a small project and I could use the money. This was supposedly a very spiritual person and that I thought was a good part of the project. She had a goal to help people and I thought that was a good idea. So the good seemed to outweigh the bad and I went ahead and agreed to help this person at a reduced rate. Boy I was patting myself on the back for being so nice on that one.

Thus began my three weeks of hell.

Lessons to be learned can often appear to us to be attractive and even when we have a little apprehension, for the most part we are drawn into the lives of Trauma Queens without realizing that we are being set up.

Lessons to be learned are usually fuzzy and not clear cut when they have to do with our spiritual and emotional self-development.

As I progressed through this living hell it became clearer and clearer to me that finding out exactly what this person wanted in her project was going to be increasingly difficult. Every time I would do something to contribute to the project she would change it. Then a few days later to she would change it back to the original way that I had done it. I received email after email with attachments that could not be opened. I explained time after time how it had to be sent until I finally suggested she copy and paste the information into an email. I then created the project for her with a certain amount of simplicity and clarity only to be told I had not done anything right. Well, I could go on and on, but here is the point of the lesson.

I was caught into fuzzy boundaries. Even when I would explain again what my boundaries were over she would accuse me of things and again break the boundaries or contract. A pattern was established of being nice and being nasty and it got to the point that I had to take a nerve pill before I could face my emails in the morning. I became increasingly ill physically. I was tired beyond belief. Then I realized what had happened. I had been seduced into the reality of a psychic vampire.

Now realizing that one has become a victim is not a happy recognition.

I was caught between two realities. I had agreed to complete this project but the vampire in order to keep me in her life sucking grips kept changing things and changing them again. So I had to get tough.

You know I have been brought up to be a polite person. The reality is you cannot always be nice to a toxic person. I worked on being detached and just keeping things on a straight professional basis and then the person would accuse me of being unprofessional. She would bring up issues that she knew would push my buttons (psychic vampires are very good at that). I knew that if I were to preserve my sanity I had to be very direct.

I finally said this is it.

One email after another came from her each switching and changing. I finally replied to the email and commented on each point she made and wrote her back asking if this was exactly what she wanted and if there were any changes she had until 2:00 pm to respond and I would make corrections and after that we were to have no further contact.

I finally got angry.

I woke up yesterday after realizing that I was really furious and had the right to draw a line and say do not cross this again.

All of a sudden my energy returned. All of a sudden I was set free. So New Year’s Day 2006 was an ending that allowed me to make a new beginning.

Sunday: I AM

The changing energies that many of us have felt this year will manifest in even greater bursts of energy and opportunity in 2006. January 1, 2006 in numerology starts the year off with the number 1. This is the opening of a spiritual portal to begin many new projects. It is ruled by the sign Aries and the planet Mars. This indicates that we can plant seeds and prepare the spiritual soil for a truly life enhancing year.

Are you ready?

While many of us believe that we are here to serve others. We cannot serve others if we do not make us number 1. It takes courage to throw off all those old messages that say put others first; Stand back and let others take the lead; To put self first is selfish or somehow unspiritual. All of these messages planted in our head are really the boundaries that are keeping us from manifesting our destiny.

The simplest lesson from the number 1 and Mars/Aries is: I AM.

This year you have the opportunity to take responsibility for you and do what it takes to create a state of mental, emotional and spiritual health. As a spiritual warrior be brave in facing your wounds and your illusions about who you should be. Put on spiritual glasses and realize that you are in your essence divine, perfect and enough. There will be many signs over the next twelve months to guide you to complete healing and awareness of your power and while the path may have some pain do not avoid it. Don’t be afraid to be angry. Don’t be afraid to say no. Most importantly, don’t be afraid to say YES to you.

This year I choose to recognize with clarity and honor the real divine human being who I AM.

Inspiration for today’s muse comes from

Cate Cavenagh

Poet, columnist, author and activist

http://members.tripod.com/cate_cavanagh/catecavanagh/

Her Godmother

http://www.geocities.com/catecavanagh/Cate.html

and Grief Dance will be released soon by Ore Mountain Publishing House!