MOVING: http://wisdom-of-one.blogspot.com/

 















I have decided to consolidate and just post to my original, and now neglected Blog address:

http://wisdom-of-one.blogspot.com/

So I hope you will click on over.

See you.
 In gratitude,
           Kate

http://wisdom-of-one.blogspot.com/

Fruition: Lessons of a Papaya Tree

 

You can accomplish a great deal by standing still.

Abundance

I was recently listening to a segment with Neale Diamond Walsh, where I heard an idea, that had been swirling around my own circle of friends. Walsh said that the economic "despair" that people were experiencing was self - or communally - created - to bring people back, to remind them how they were happier with less. I heard the ping of Truth in his words.

I remember talking to a friend of mine, who has the financial freedom to travel avidly, who is a self proclaimed "Abundist;" she said she spent time investigating the responsibility and reverence for Nature's abundance. This is the phase I am gratefully in now. I make my grocery list much more carefully, thinking and planning my purchases, as flashbacks of throwing unused food trickles through my head. My diet is now much more fresh, as I recall my lazy over-indulgence in consuming too much take out food, too fast, between jobs, and zooming right along. I have undeniably been slowed down in many ways.

Does this mean I don't want to eat out more, or enjoy counting my grocery store pennies - no! It does mean, I am garnering an appreciation of how even less - is abundant. And how less isn't even a possibility - it's a comparison to a past that does not exist in this moment now. And if I constantly crane my neck backwards, well, it's most likely I will crash into the street sign of abundant present moment, rather than smoothly flowing ahead.

You pray in your distress and in your need; would that you might also pray in the fullness of your joy and in your days of abundance.
 - Kahlil Gibran  

Photo: K. Brenton
Kaua'i Farmer's Market Find 

My Own Place

Good girls don’t cry. Or is that big girls? Nice women, behave; even though they rarely make history. Women should know their place – and with this I agree. The glitch, or rather, the opportunity being the place, and the time, and the pristine opportunity that is offered in this multitudinous variation. What is the right place, and the right time, anyway?

I can only speak what I know, and I know I often felt out of place. Others, apparently, knew their place, so I deduced that if they knew, and I didn’t, it made sense to just work around them. A colossal misinterpretation.

I know that being raised Catholic I was told to be quiet. Not silent, quiet. There is a difference. I was disciplined to behave, act nice, and think of others. Others were always first; not something I disagree with, but we never really discussed where my needs fell in the hierarchy of behaving and being quietly nice to all creatures, great and small. Therein lay the problem. If I was always thinking of others, then who was I relying on to take care of me?

Be, Do & Have

There is nothing you cannot be, do, or have. – Abraham Hicks.

This theme has been swirling around me, day after day, moment after moment. There is nothing I cannot be do or have. I see that. All around me. The trick is seeing that for me. And instead of seeing that I see what I am not, do not, have not. Why?

From what I have absorbed, Why is the least effective question to ask in this situation. It provides a hamster wheel of astronomical proportions, whereupon I can spin, spin, spin, satiating my desire to feel like I am trying, but in reality, not getting anywhere. Fast. For example: Why me? Why them? Why this? What answer would satisfy? These questions establish a polarity of separation that, if answerable, will confirm there is a Have and a Have Not, and that these two distinctions are justifiable by the Universe: when most scripture, avatars, and mystics beam that this is not true. There is no separation, no matter what. So if I search for Why, I am feeding energy into the very aspect I am trying to dissipate, thus furthering and deepening the chasm between myself and Truth. Humpf.

Creating your Reality

Yogi Bhajan was known to comment on his “obstacles” with endearment. Stating, that if he didn’t enjoy [said predicament] he would never have created it. When you look at your environment and consider yourself as a co-creator of the circumstances that you are in there is a shift on many levels. What happens when the other person, the external factor is no longer separate from you, but perhaps very intimately connected? This alone can send the mind reeling.

Following along those same slippery lines…There is much talk about manifesting these days, as well as the collapsing economy. A lot of woulds, coulds and shoulds. Better not do this; can’t afford to do that; what if I dared to do what I wanted. Where WILL the money come from? Et cetra. I recently plopped down to feel through an abundance exercise and when I silently uttered the words, “I am now a millionaire” I felt a surging amount of resistance; thankfully, so much resistance that I could not not notice it. When I felt through the resistance, what I uncovered was: Fear of my own power. If I was a millionaire, where would my excuses go? I could spend my whole day in service; I could spend more time with my loved ones, be slower with my word choices, more nourishing with my diet, and more fearless with my life.

If I had all the money, I desired, would I do all the things I claim I would? Is it possible that I have prevented the flow of money, because I enjoy the safety of not having to do something because I “don’t have the money for that.”

What about you?


SO MANY GIFTS

There are so many gifts
Still unopened from your birthday,
There are so many hand-crafted presents
That have been sent to you by God.

The Beloved does not mind repeating,
"Everything I have is also yours."

Please forgive Hafiz and the Friend
If we break into a sweet laughter
When your heart complains of being thirsty
When ages agoEvery cell in your soul
Capsized foreverInto this infinite golden sea.

Indeed,
A lover's pain is like holding one's breath
Too long In the middle of a vital performance,
In the middle of one of Creation's favoriteSongs.

Indeed, a lover's pain is this sleeping,
This sleeping, When God just rolled over and gave you
Such a big good-morning kiss!

There are so many gifts, my dear,
Still unopened from your birthday.

O, there are so many hand-crafted presents
That have been sent to your life
From God.

~ Hafiz ~

Reference:
Yogi Bhajan Lecture

Koke'e

I took a Seed from a Stone
Planted it in a Tree
and watched
my Soul bloom.

Belief

Belief. To even tackle the concept intimidates my fingertips, yet the pursuit of which births my every breath. The human existence craves to believe: they are loved; they are worthwhile; they are purposeful; they are supported; they have a reason to exist.

Isn’t that why we need to hear our partner (girlfriend, husband, lover…) say: I love you. If we hear it, we believe we will believe it. Isn’t that why we say show me: If we see it, we believe we will believe it. Have you ever looked at your watch to see the time, then had to look at it a second later? Why does that happen? Did we not believe it the first time? Was our mind so busy that the information, just sort of slipped? What does that say about us?

I read The Alchemist last year, by Paul Coehlo, and I highly recommend it. The writing is admirable, but more importantly the metaphorical comparisons are easy launching points into the specifics of your own psyche. I read it a few months before I was deciding to travel with my beloved on his journey to Egypt. I didn’t go. I could say that I didn’t go because I felt that it was the right thing. It was neither right nor wrong; however the reason I didn’t go was because I didn’t believe I could. I couldn’t afford it. I couldn’t quit my job. I wasn’t worthy to “have it all.” As I was traversing this cranial terrain – I was simultaneously reading the book. I detest a spoiled ending, so I won’t do that to you, but the ending was, for me, cosmic comedy. None of it mattered; the journey mattered; there was no golden answer; there is only my journey and it is all necessary.
For you.
For me.

How does the journey become an expression of belief?

Journey Home

The time that my journey takes
is long and the way of it long.
I came out on the chariot of the first gleam of light,
and pursued my voyage through the wildernesses of worlds
leaving my track on many a star and planet.

It is the most distant course that comes nearest to thyself,
and that training is the most intricate
which leads to the utter simplicity of a tune.
The traveler has to knock
at every alien door to come to his own,
and one has to wander through all the outer worlds
to reach the innermost shrine at the end.

My eyes strayed far and wide
before I shut them and said `Here art thou!'
The question and the cry `Oh, where?'
melt into tears of a thousand
streams and deluge the world
with the flood of the assurance `I am!'

RABINDRANATH TAGORE

Patience

Patience. A begrudging practice at times. Wayne Dwyer says: Infinite patience brings immediate results. This feels about right. When the impatience of my mind stamps its feet, for more - now! -it kicks up the dust - clouding the clarity of the moment. Have you ever rushed a moment - received it - looked over your shoulder at the past and wished you had savored it rather than slurped it down?

For example, I recently relocated - - with any relocation there are bits and bobs to be attended to: mail transfers, cooking supply stocking, sun block buying, and Internet connecting. For whatever reason, there was a bit of a cloud around the Internet installation - the computer guy was on vacation, the Internet company was also celebrating their Independence holiday and I was left with an, "Eh, it'll happen," for my timeline. Being from the East Coast, hyperventilation quickly kicked in. How would I check my email? How would I stay in touch? How would I shop for the new car I needed to get around this oddly large island? How would I write my book (I have been finding blame - casting for this one, for years)? How would I......? How would I? How would I?

Resting on Kauai

The landing on Kauai, for me, has notoriously been an arduous one. This is the third time, and although it has been expeditiously improving, I still kick and scream, gasping for breath from Kauai's demands. Her demand? To be who I am, not what I own, not what I claim, not any external disclaimers. Rather, to just reside, to be. A tall order of trust, in my mind.

This morning I awoke with the realization that here - I am identity-less. My story is not known here. My income, my work, my home, my car, my role, are all in formation. And here I am - the master craftswoman. Needless to say, this had me awake at 6 am with an irregular breathing pattern (read: panic attack). So I packed a bag, and headed to the heiau in Kapaa for some yoga under the morning sun.

I stretched and breathed, feeling more invigorated, more in "the body glove" as Guru Singh says, letting my mind focus on a tight neck rather than a tight space. Rejuvenated and refreshingly receptive to the idea that I was in the right place for the right reasons, I packed up my towel and flops, walked out of the heiau and saw the beach roped off. I smiled, knowing who had arrived.

When a monk seal slides in for a nap, the beach is roped off; the humans must concede to their blubbery neighbor and his naptime. It's a wonderful reminder that there are many inhabitants on this planet. There is something extravagantly peaceful about a monk seal sleeping. He has no concern that the hotel staff rushed out to shush off the beachcombers. He is non-plussed by the caution tape that partitions off the beach. He simply follows his need and it is fulfilled. Just like that.

I thanked my sea friend for showing me just how comfortable of a home Kauai can be; how a space will be carved for you, even if you are a monk seal: The rest will come.

Why take the journey?

Often it is easiest to stay put. It is easiest to continue to live a life that we know, and pad through to further accomplishments that keep us as we are. Is this good? Is this bad? Depends on the circumstances of your life. Only you know - which makes the equation that much more precarious to balance.

In Stephen Buhner's The Secret Teachings of Plants, he writes about changes:

For any living system very close to the phase transition between a synchronized and nonsynchronized state, a small peturbing signal produces a very large effect, moving the system in and out of synchrony at a regular rate. But every time the system reorders, it is in a new state of equilibrium. The resulting self-organization and emergent behaviors are different from those that went before. The novetly in living systems arises at points of instability, at bifurcation points. Instabilities are indespensable sources of biological innovation. [46]

What signals of reorganization are you receivng?

I have found that the call for change can be ignored - to a point. Once this pinnacle point is reached (the first of infinite) - you have reached critical mass and change must occur. One can chose to evolve or ride the waves of a system that collapse and reorganize upon itself in dis-ease, until the proper space is acquired for expansion.

This was the ringing I heard, in my ears, as I walked this very hallway, into my classroom. Each day I taught - through the veils of English literature - to follow the call of one's own heart, the notorious advice of Joseph Campbell to "Follow Your Bliss." What happens when the teacher realizes that the very advice she serves needs to be followed? What happens when the one who needs to learn is one's self?

The Journey
One day you finally knew
what you had to do, and began,
though the voices around you
kept shouting
their bad advice--
though the whole house
began to tremble
and you felt the old tug
at your ankles.
"Mend my life!"
each voice cried.
But you didn't stop.
You knew what you had to do,
though the wind pried
with its stiff finger
sat the very foundations,
though their melancholy
was terrible.
It was already late
enough, and a wild night,
and the road full of fallen
branches and stones.
But little by little,
as you left their voices behind,
the stars began to burn
through the sheets of clouds,
and there was a new voice
which you slowly
recognized as your own,
that kept you company
as you strode deeper and deeper
into the world,
determined to do
the only thing you could do--
determined to save
the only life you could save.
© Mary Oliver. Online Source

I packed my bags and bought a one way ticket to Kaua'i.