2/28/14—Spotting Your Reflection

Still waters reflect the truth of our heavenly and earthly selves. 

Today's post is a classic post from 2/6/12.

This morning, after a long absence, I returned to my favorite park spot to greet the sun. What I found both surprised and comforted me.

Everything was exactly as I left it three years ago when I gave up my sunrise trips in favor of sleep and blogging. The lone pine that bravely sticks its head above the canopy of deciduous trees—daring to be an individual, daring to claim the nourishment it needs—was still there. The constant din of traffic was there, still challenging the profound underlying silence of the park. And the same glassy water was right where I left it, reflecting the beauty of the sky above.

I confess I don't know enough about rivers to know why they always seem so still at the liminal times of the day. Maybe it has to do with the moon or tides. Maybe it's the weather. Maybe it has to do with passing boats. But it seems like the river's surface is calmer at dawn and dusk than it is in the middle of the day. It could just be this particular location. A few miles away at Great Falls, the river is never calm.

We're kind of like the river in our spiritual journeys, aren't we? Sometimes we're calm and still, reflecting back both the beauty that beams down from above and that which gathers around us in our lives. And sometimes we're jumbled and chaotic, reflecting back a more distorted view of our reality. We move in and out of the pocket of love, flowing with the tides and the forecast. 

Looks like a pigeon, but it's a dove.

The other day, a couple of miles upriver, someone came across two doves that had been decapitated in some sort of ritual. The article said that doves and pigeons are pretty much the same bird. "Dove" and "pigeon" are used interchangeably and not even experts agree whether there's a difference or not. But you know the difference, don't you? Doves are those pretty white birds that mate for life. And pigeons are those nasty gray ones that poop on everything. Right?

Turns out pigeons and doves reflect something back on us, too. 

Looks like a dove, but it's a pigeon.

Everywhere we look in life there's a mirror. Our friends and family reflect back our strengths and insecurities. Our words and actions reflect back our beliefs and attitudes. Even the things we don't do or say...the people we don't hang out with...reflect back on us. We may be able to successfully hide our truth from others, but no matter where we look or what we do, our truth is always looking back at us. That's both good news and bad. The bad news is that, wherever you see something you don't like, you're responsible for it being in your life. The good news is that you also have the power to change it. Even if you can't immediately change your circumstance, you can change the way you view or approach it. 

So this weekend, see how many mirrors you can spot in your life. What does your home say about you? Your choice of a mate? Your pets? Your job? Your response to the email you just got? The quality of your friendships? The condition of your shoes? If you see something you're not pleased with, why is it still in your life?

Moreover, check the state of your internal waters. Are they calm enough to accurately reflect back some higher aspect within you? Or are they choppy, rough and discombobulated? If they're the former, don't take that connection for granted. And if it's the latter, consider what stills you and move toward that. Ultimately, the difference between living a pigeon life and a dove life is all in the way you see it.

2/26/14—Getting Into the Rhythm

Interesting things happen when you start watching the sunset nearly every night. When I started watching in the dead of winter, it was dark by 5pm. Now it's dark at 6pm. Come summer and I'll be out there as late as 9pm watching the sun dip down (though my dislike of warm weather may deter me.) 

Along with the time differential comes a "neighborhood habits" differential. While some activity follows the sun—my back yard neighbor going on her dog walks, for example—other activity follows the clock. Like kids coming home from school and people returning home from work. Right now, I'm seeing one group of neighbors in their routine and in a few months, it will be another, later group in their routines. 

And then there's the changes with nature. As the leaves begin to pop, what I'm able to see of the sunset will change considerably over the coming months. Right now I get an eyeful through the branches, but soon I'll have less sky to observe. I may even be urged out of the neighborhood for more expansive views. But then I'll miss out on the unique rhythm that goes on where I live. 

Years ago my thing was sunrises. For two years I watched the sun rise twice a week at a local park, but I didn't have the same experience as I'm having with sunsets. There, I had my back to the hustle and bustle of the world. And even if I didn't, all there was to see was a blur of cars whizzing by on the Parkway. So while the sunrises were all different, the rhythm was usually the same. 

Also, Daylight Savings Time keeps sunrise times more consistent than sunset times. So the sun might rise between, say 5:45 at one end of the spectrum and 7:30 at the other end. With sunsets, the times span from 4:45 to 9pm—about twice the range of time in which to observe the life that happens around the sun's show. 

What I have noticed from these practices, however, is that nature's circadian rhythm follows the sun while much of our own rhythms follow the clock. One interesting observation I've had recently is that the first chirp of morning birds coincides nearly perfectly with the sensors on the street lamp behind my house. When the street lamp goes to sleep, the birds awake (though both are taking their cues from the angle of the sun.)

Last week I made a post about the data we've left behind because of technological convenience. This is sort of the same thing. Work starts at 9 whether the sun rises an hour before or three hours before. And it ends at 5, whether the sun has already set or won't set for another four hours. But if we, as animals, are tuned to the rhythms of the sun (and we are), they we're keeping "unnatural" schedules. 

Ancient man, who didn't avail themselves so much to artificial light, kept a very different sleep and work pattern than we do (called segmented sleep.) They went to bed much earlier. Woke for a couple of hours in the middle of the night. Then went back to bed. They still got 8 hours, but in two four-hour bursts. Then with the advent of street lamps and affordable artificial light, things changed. 

The move away from segmented sleep is blamed for everything from stress to addiction to obesity among modern man. If you look into the science of circadian rhythm and the hormonal and physiological nuances of how it all works, you begin to see why. Further, when you wake in the middle of the night and curse it as insomnia, what's really happening is that your body is trying to get into rhythm. But modern life doesn't allow that. 

I've veered of course a little here, because what I really wanted to point out is all the different rhythms that go on...the rhythm of light and dark and all that comes with that, and the rhythm of schedules and time clocks and all that comes with them. Watching the sunset really points out the difference between the two and gives you a view of the unique rhythm of your immediate environment...the rhythm that you and your community keep. So far it has led to many interesting observations about neighbors and how I fit into this unique neighborhood. 

What it comes down to, however, is that whether it's the rhythm of earth wobbling on its axis or of people tied to the clock or of our body's cycles of sleep and waking, we don't think too much about our rhythms and how they fit into the bigger picture. But there's a lot of information there, not just for knowing who you are as a person, but for understanding how you work as an animal and the choices you make as to which rhythms you move within at any given time. Being attuned to your rhythms and the ones around you could be key to waltzing more gracefully through the dance of life. 

2/24/14—Making What You Have Work

There's this tree in my neighbor's back yard, behind their shed. It's an evergreen...a cedar, I think. It's sort of a Charlie Brown tree in a way. It's not symmetrical. The branches reach every which way. It's top heavy. Awkward. Lopsided.

You might consider this tree "unfortunate" were it not for the fact that it has somehow managed to grow quite healthy with a shed on one side blocking the afternoon sun, a fence a fence and vegetation on the other side blocking the morning sun and a bunch of bigger trees above it blocking the daytime sun. But I've seen this tree grow pretty big over 15 years with all these obstacles remaining constant.

One thing that helps is that it's an evergreen. When everyone loses their leaves, the evergreen gets to bask in the sun. I have a pear blossom in my yard that buds and blooms before the maple above it gets its leaves. Otherwise it wouldn't get the sun it needs to do all that. Once it has leaves, it's happy to live under the maple, but if the maple grew leaves sooner, the pear blossom never would have made it.

Both the evergreen and pear blossom are able to get what they need to survive, partly because of the kind of tree they are. The evergreen is evergreen, so it gets a good five months out of the year without any competition for sunlight. The pear blossom is an early bloomer, so it gets a valuable month's head start on establishing its leaves and gets all the power it needs to bloom while the maple is still making whirlybirds.

But beyond the tree type...what's in its DNA...the evergreen thrives as an individual by poking its branches out wherever it can to catch sun and rain. Which is why it's so oddly shaped. It is, in fact, NOT oddly shaped, but instead, perfectly shaped to take advantage of its environment. Same with the pear blossom. It's grows thin and tall with more leaves higher up because it competes with two much larger trees and has to find that bit of clear airspace available to wash as much surface area with sun and rain to keep it going.

So there's a tall, fat tree using its tall fatness to make the most of its mission on earth—growth and light. And there's a tall skinny flowering tree that's tall and skinny for the same reasons.

Most of my life I've resented the body I'm in. Like the evergreen, I'm an apple...leaner legs with all my weight around the middle. It's no mistake I have this body, though. Like the evergreen, the universe planted me where it did for a purpose and I grew as I did for a purpose, too. Some of the evergreen's awkwardness isn't awkwardness at all, but what that tree needs in order to face the light...how it copes to both protect and expose itself to the right elements. I suppose I'm the same way.

Same with my pear blossom. In fact, one day the maple will have to come down and that pear blossom will change in all sorts of ways because of it, just as the evergreen would change if the shed or one of the trees around it came down. But then again, we don't know what other issues something like that may trigger. Right now, everything is thriving just as it is. 

And as long as we allow our special kind of DNA and our weird and awkward ways of coping to keep focusing on our unique missions of growth and light, it's likely we'll continue. What the trees don't have to struggle with, but we do though, is accepting that they will never be an oak or maple—tall with an impressive canopy to drink in the elements. Oaks and maples have their own issues to contend with. The lifespan of a maple, for example, is centuries less than the lifespan of a cedar. But that's just it...the trees don't struggle at all. They just work with what they have and make what they have work.

2/21/14—Transcending Limitations

Today's post is a classic post from 1/9/13, because I ran out of time tonight. :) 

Once a month, I go to a wonderful healing session up near Annapolis. The woman, Diane, practices the Bonny Method of Music-Evoked Healing. If you're reading on my official blog, you can see some of my past experiences here and here.

In today's re-post, I talk about a session I had a year go. But first, let me tell you the mechanics of what happens in these sessions because they're so unique. It begins with setting an intention and, in this case, it was about exploring false limitations. And then Diane guides me through relaxation the way a hypnotherapist would. Then she intuitively chooses music to help me on my journey. And as I listen to the music, I tell her the images that come into my head based on the music and she writes them down, while guiding the session.

Diane has a degree in music therapy, she's certified in the Bonny Method, she's a Reiki master, a Native American lodge keeper and really one of the best people I know. You'd think I'd have met her in some incense cloaked pillow pit lit by candles and black light, but I actually met her in an advertising agency I freelanced at some 15 years ago where she was a VP or some such mucky muck.

Anyway, I say all of that, because some will think, "oh, cool, let's get some gals together and do that Friday night," but it's not that easy. There's actually a lot of training that goes into it. And others will think "oh, this is one of Tierney's weirdo woo-woo friends." And while that's true, she's actually a very accomplished, trained and qualified woo-woo weirdo. And she would have to be, because sometimes these journeys can bring up difficult stuff and she needs to know how to handle that.

Gratuitous shot of the AWESOME Neil deGrasse Tyson & some white light. 

OK, so enough about that. The theme was about exploring false limitations. And because I've been doing this for quite some time, I almost immediately go into a subconscious state. By that I mean I go so deep that I don't even know what I'm saying half the time. "Tierney" has left the building. And I'm often shocked at some of the things she tells me that I say. I'm under for maybe 20-30 minutes? I don't know. It seems like a really long time sometimes. So this is a simplistic representation of what happened today.

I started out in this world, on a beach, in a cove. I was sitting at the back of the cove and saw an image in front of me that was, essentially, the statue of Jesus in Rio de Janeiro. Then the image ripped in half, like you would rip a photograph and a beautiful, white coral staircase appeared on the beach, beckoning me upward. This staircase led to another reality, which was essentially a black hole. I didn't want to stay there, so I went up to another reality and another reality, neither of which were inviting. All had some form of abyss and, while I was safe and on sturdy ground in each one, each was a portal to a world I couldn't see from my vantage point. So I stayed safe.

This is the Jesus I saw...from the back. 

Finally a hummingbird came along to whisk me away to the "top" reality. By that, I mean these realities were shown to me in layers and this was the top layer. Hummingbirds, I found out after the fact, are symbolic of the miracle of life, as well as joy, love and beauty. (Trust me, if I were consciously making all this stuff up, Jesus wouldn't be in it, nor would a hummingbird. And, in fact, I only vaguely remembered any of this upon waking. Which is why she writes stuff down.) 

So the hummingbird flies me to the highest reality and it's all light. At first, I am the darkness that cuts the light. But then the light overtakes me, too. First I lose my body and can feel my distinct consciousness in the light. Then the lines of the consciousness loosen and I *am* the light. Eventually I move out of the light and am part of the cosmos. The "all that is" and I are inseparable now. I am capable of anything and everything. I can do all sorts of tricks. And at that point I say, "now I remember that I always used to be able to do this. And I was good at it. Then the ability (was taken from me.)" The "was taken from me" part is in parentheses. It's what I said, but not really what I meant. At one second in the journey I knew the entire process of how we lose the capability, but in the next second I didn't and those were the only words I could think of. I could have just as easily said "I lost it", "I let it go" or anything else. It really bugged me that I couldn't remember the rest of my thought, because it felt like there was valuable wisdom there, but it slipped away. 

The rest of the session was spent floating in that place in the cosmos, pure consciousness. And based on some of the things I said, it would seem that I'm much wiser and more carefree in that state. It was a state of divine detachment and, gratefully, the music that started playing (no kidding) was a lullaby, so I just felt held in "mother's arms" as I experienced the silence and ease of the "all that is". 

But back to false limitations. What this journey came to tell me—and tell all of us—is that there are NO limitations. What we truly are transcends all limitations, including space and time. As I said in the journey, we used to know how to transcend our limitations, but when we came here, we somehow forgot it. That doesn't mean it's not still there within us. Heck, even the fact that we're earthbound humans is a false limitation that somehow got placed on us when we were born. 

I had recently heard someone say that the reason we have seratonin and dopamine and all those brain chemicals is because if we didn't, we'd be scared shitless at the "reality" we'd landed in on this earth journey. I mean, just think of it...going from a place where you are fully at peace, inseparable with the "all that is," to a place where cells, our bodies, our homes, our planet, our beliefs—everything in our "reality"—separates us from who we REALLY are. So this is why most of us are driven to find that oneness again through religion and spirituality. (Or drugs.)

So that's the thought today. What if there really were nothing to limit you whatsoever? What if you moved through life knowing you held in your hand the creative power of the "all that is"? What if you had the ability transcend even the limitations of having a physical body or being tied to space and time? How would that change things? Are you ready to take that leap?

2/19/14—Choosing Your Life

What if, before you were even born, you chose who you would be, the challenges you'd deal with, the challenges you wouldn't deal with, who your parents and siblings would be, even how you'd die? I'm pretty sure I believe this happens. I say "pretty sure" because, fact is, none of us really knows. We can *think* we know down to the very bottom of our soul who/what God is, what life's all about, etc., but we'd be one of 8 billion people, all with differing beliefs and all of whom believe it to the bottom of their very soul. What makes any of us think we have all the answers?

So even if you don't believe we choose the big things in our lives, read on. Because imagining it's true can help you learn a lot about yourself, I think. 

As I was saying, I think we choose the major stuff before we're even born. We sort of dispassionately make certain decisions based not on how it would affect others, but how it would effect us. To our eternal soul, dying of cancer or of suicide is not a big thing. It's just an option on a menu. And if killing yourself is traumatic for someone you leave behind, that's none of your business. They chose to be in your life before they were even born so they could have the trauma. See?

This is different from the notion of fate, because fate seems to leave "you" out of the picture, as if some outside force is making the decisions. In this theory, you make all decisions. So it's something a higher you...a wiser you...a more holy you chose, knowing the whole picture. Thinking about that, right there, changes a lot of stuff for me. That means I wanted to be this person I sometimes don't want to be!

The other day, I came across a group of stories about kids who told their parents when and why they chose them. By this, I mean kids from age 3-6 who have memories of choosing their parents before they came here. A couple of the kids said they were brought into a room, like a store, and prospective parents would be lined up and they (their souls) would choose which set of parents to have as their own. Presumably all the parents would help with the lesson the soul came to learn, but each different set would come with their own different flavor.

So, for example, I chose to come here to have weight issues and esteem issues connected to weight, because that's one of the big things my soul wanted to learn about. So, theoretically, there would be a room full of parents—single parents, married parents, adoptive parents, rich parents, poor parents, etc.—and I chose Bob and Kathleen because they could suitably shame me for being fat. But I didn't choose Sam and Pat, because they would not only shame, they would abuse me. And I didn't choose single mom, Laura, because she's homeless and that's not a lesson I came here to learn or wanted to learn. 

The interesting thing is that Bob and Kathleen, in addition to shaming me for being fat, would also offer up some abandonment issues to me that weren't on the menu when my five siblings chose them. And they would also give me certain freedoms and perks that also weren't on the menu for my older siblings. So, weighing it all out, I chose Bob and Kathleen, knowing what would become of them and what lessons I would learn from that. And knowing that I'd have to share my entire life with five siblings who, at times, would be either be like strangers or best friends. I chose to live a largely solitary life. I chose not to have children. I chose to have dogs (who would become some of my greatest teachers.) And, however/whenever I die, I chose that, too. All the rest—all the details along the way—get filled in through the hand of God or the infinite organizing power of the universe.

I chose it all. And when I consider this belief, it changes things when you believe you CHOSE your challenges, rather than feeling a victim of them or, at the very least, saddled with them by some unseen force. There feels like there's more of a mission to this whole thing we call life, too. 

So, consider....if you chose the big challenges you have in your life, why? And how did the parents you chose impact that? What degree of difficulty do you think you aimed for in this lifetime? What lessons might you have come here to start on, but not finish? What different lessons did your siblings come to learn from the same parents? And if you're a parent yourself, for better or worse, why did each of your kids choose you? Even if you don't quite believe in this stuff, contemplating these questions can provide valuable insights as to your mission here on earth. 

2/17/14—Leaving Valuable Data Behind

Harbingers of spring, out in full force.

One of the things I wrestle with in this amazing world we live in, is what we give up in order to move forward technologically and socially. Don't get me wrong, I'm glad we don't live in caves. I'm happy we don't communicate with smoke signals. And I'm thrilled I don't have to hunt what I eat. But none of these conveniences come without a cost. 

Like the universe, I think we're meant to expand and evolve in all directions. So it's not like this is the age of evolving technologically. It's (always) the age of evolution in every which way. I'm going to be 51 this year. When I think of how much everything around me has changed in my lifetime, from microwaves to computers to media, it numbs the mind. I can't even imagine how much more profound it would be for someone in their 90s. 

But just as our technologically advanced age has gifted us with information and data unlike ever before, it comes at a cost. Instant answers mean we reason less and rely more on the data we find. There are whole parts of our brains that see less action because answers are so easy to find. And, as I said, we're happy to believe in whatever we find. The stories that float around social media are proof of that. People get all up in arms about these "true stories" of things that never happened. It's like even the intuitive "hit" of "wait a minute, something doesn't ring true" is dulled. 

Often when I sit out in my back yard, I wonder what cave men would have made of the day I'm observing. Like yesterday, the skies were overrun with birds. First, he would have known they were robins. And second, he would have used that as a clue that spring and warmer weather was on the way. What we consider "quaint folklore" or "old wives tales" today were and are still valid data important to survival. 

He would have known by the shape of clouds and how the wind hit his face what kind of weather we were bound to have tomorrow. He would have known the time by how shadows move across the ground and the date by studying the stars and the angles of the sun. With this data, he would have known if it was time to start gathering wood or whether or not it was a good time to fish. His intuition would be finely tuned to subtle signs around him, alerting him to danger or opportunity. And all of this would come from within. And all of this is what atrophies when we use Google instead of common sense or intuition. 

Again, not saying Google (and I'm just using Google as an example) or any technology is bad. It's amazing what we can do and I'm grateful for it. But we pay the price for that by becoming further dependent on things outside of us and less dependent on things within us. And I think that, at the very least, is sad. At the most, it is extremely dangerous. 

It took early man generations of data and practice to fine tune their inner knowing. If anything were to happen to us, energy wise...anything from being hit by a meteor, widespread world war, an enormous natural disaster...anything that could wipe out energy resources or our access to data, we're screwed. Books and maps and other resources are becoming more and more scarce, while the information in them becomes more and more available online. But if you can't get online, or if some dictator rules what you can and cannot see, you're probably about as prepared as me to wing it in the wild. Even survivalists are not as prepared as they think (though they're way more prepared than I.)

We assume that the things available to us will always be available to us. And maybe they will be. But one thing is for certain, things will not be the same as they are. Chances are, we'll move even further away from our instinctual heritage and rely more on machines. And as we do, I believe we'll be moving ever perilously closer to our own undoing. 

Not to be overly dramatic, but the further we move from self reliance, whether that be emotionally, physically, intellectually or otherwise, the more vulnerable we become. It could be argued that we become become better able to defend ourselves, the more advanced we become. That is also true. But to focus on one way of being and abandoning another, which is what we're unconsciously doing, can't be smart. No matter how much we evolve in one direction, leaving another direction to atrophy is just asking for the pendulum to cause us to swing the other way in order to maintain balance. 

2/14/14—Allowing

I've always been a fiercely independent type. I don't ask for help. I don't expect help. And if I can do it on my own, I'll usually at least try before I call a professional. 

But I've been getting soft in my old age. I'm accepting help when offered. I usually feel guilty about it, like I *should* be able to do it. Or paranoid that they're offering because I'm not holding up my end of some bargain. But even those thoughts are falling away.  

It snowed last night and today some anonymous person finished the shoveling job I abandoned because my arm and back were hurting and I felt I had done enough to get by. I asked the usual suspect, Ted, who sometimes cleans out my front gutters and even mows when I'm not looking. But he said it wasn't him. Then I saw some guy shoveling out a driveway that didn't belong to him up the road, but he said it wasn't him. So for now, my angel is anonymous. And it may stay that way. 

When I do "good deeds" I like to remain anonymous myself. I'm not doing it for the thanks. I'm doing it for the service and, selfishly, as I said the other day, for the good karma and flow of good deeds. Today was special for me, because I didn't feel guilty or paranoid and, in fact, was really grateful and glad that someone helped me out. I feel like I "deserved" it. That's a crappy way of putting it, but I felt like it was my turn, so I took it without feeling indebted. And guess what? It felt really good. And I bet that will open the flow for even more good deeds coming and going in the future. 

It's hard for me to be vulnerable, which is why it's hard for me to ask for help. You're probably thinking that I make myself vulnerable by all the stuff I talk about on my blog. And in a way, I do. I tell stuff on purpose to stretch those boundaries because I know I build my walls too high. As it is, I still keep a lot to myself, though.

But what I'm finding is that the more I open up and the more I accept help, the easier things are and the better I feel about myself. All those years of enforcing my walls and boundaries were harder physically, emotionally and socially...every which way. After all, wherever there's a wall, a flow is being restricted. Let the flow burst the dam and things start moving again. 

I've always seen allowing and accepting and being vulnerable as weaker choices. But how can they be weaker when it take so much energy to fight against them? How are you with making yourself vulnerable or accepting help? And if you're the opposite way, how are you with enforcing boundaries and offering help? 

I've found that there's a receiving in giving...you receive the gratitude and karma of helping another. And there's a giving in receiving...you allow another person to be there for you. There's an art in either way, but I'm learning that we need to learn how to do each way graciously and without judgment to fully understand what the exchange is all about. I'm already seeing I'm a better giver for being a better receiver. And now I'm wondering where else that same thing can be applied in my life. The more I see peace and balance enter into my world as I get older, the more I want to continue cultivating it in the future.