What if an angel whispered in your ear this morning, ‘Dear one, you will be transitioning in one week?’ Breathe that question in deeply. How would you spend your time? What procrastinated or unsaid things may rise to the top of the list? Would you make a list?

I find it is so easy to fall back asleep…like we have forever. News flash, we don’t. We are dying and being born in every moment. Smiling to impermanence I invite it deeply into my heart to help me have some wisdom in organizing this day, and this week. Especially if I’m wanting to fall back asleep. Dear one, what if?

There may not even be that big of difference in what I do but more of a difference in how I be while I am showing up. A thrown way of being for me in some instances is like a little kid…’do I have to mom?’ Then to trudge through the mundane b.s. that I wish I didn’t have to do. (Oh Joy!) What if I didn’t get to talk to my dad next week, what would I say this week? Diving deeper into the heart of love so there are not things unsaid or even joys not made time for.

Making peace with Humans choosing perpetual war. This week, I may not solve the war. But can I make peace in my own heart? I’m about to go to a job this morning that I don’t love…but can I show and be love? Dear one, you have one week…use your time wisely and remember to live from your heart. Beauty is all around you and within you…

My mom loved words. She loved to read books and she loved art. After a messy divorce with my father, she used her English degree to teach English to people from all over the world. She supported herself as an ESL (English as a Second Language) teacher at Community Colleges. But really she wanted to be a writer of books. So she would not commit to a full time job because in her mind, it would get in the way of the freedom and time to write. She worked three part time jobs, instead. And she read LOTS of books through out her life.

Her students loved her, and she loved them. Giving the gift of language to newly arrived people who often were in difficult conditions was something she excelled at and she did it for thirty years. At the end of her classes, her students would throw parties and give her gifts of appreciation and love.

Lugging her travel suitcase of ESL materials from College to car, then driving on the L.A. freeways from college to college to work her three part time jobs got old. By sixty she retired, but it was a non traditional job without retirement benefits because she wanted to be a writer. My sister, out of her generosity, offered to move my mom from California to Florida and gave her a free place to live for ‘retirement’ years. Starting over at any age can be difficult, but mom went for it.

As I sit at my desk surrounded by crayons and flowers and colored pencils I am appreciating my mom. I have watched several in my family struggle with transition from ‘doing a job’ to ‘retirement’. Mom was one, she got too isolated. But whenever she connected with the creative side of herself, she was way happier. There were long stretches where she was more connected with the television and reading than her creativity, but I’m happy to say that she made it back to art before she passed. Somewhere along the way, she forgot or gave up on getting her own writing further out into the world. But her artistic nature was always there.

Mom taught herself to weave in her fifties. She made beautiful weavings and used them to decorate her home. She also gave them to her kids. My dad told me stories that she made dresses for me and my sister, again without anyone teaching her. There is a lot that was difficult about being my mom’s daughter, but the art part always makes me smile. It’s like her spirituality and her love were woven into her weavings. She gave me one hanging on my wall when I was in my twenties. I cherish it.

My brother had tried to get her to take a full time teaching job that had benefits. She was not interested. I was working a full time job with benefits during a lot of the years she was teaching. I would roll my eyes (inside) when she would tell me with great pride…’This cost $2 at good will!’ I didn’t get it at the time, why after receiving a compliment on something she would tell me that. Now I get it. Mom was in kind of a gerbil wheel with those three part time jobs for a while. She was running to stay afloat financially and taking pride in doing so frugally. I had way more respect for my mom being able to do what she did for as long as she did it when I left my corporate job and it’s income. I left the full time benefited path too, for a lot of the same reasons. I wanted my freedom to follow my dream. I also did three part time jobs after leaving corporate land for a while and was in that gerbil wheel spinning in place.

Mom died at 80 in her sleep. The night before she died I had a dream and she was in her fifties and looked really happy with a lot of energy. She was looking for the door, I was trying to help her find the door. Little did I know she was transitioning. My sister called me the next morning and told me mom died. I bawled my eyes out. Yet, my sister told me she looked so peaceful, she looked 30 years younger. That puts her in her fifties, when she was happiest and still working. Mom got to go before Covid and for that I”m eternally grateful.

But what I am most grateful for is mom made it back to art in her last few years, and the light started to return to her eyes. After years of being numb and depressed, her creativity did magic. I would get calls (I am in California and she was in Florida) and she would tell me of spending hours in the Sanctuary room. I imagined some kind of small churchy room or something like that in the assisted living facility where she lived. When I went to visit her, I saw it was a crafting room. Mom would tell me how hard it was to choose the colors, and decide whether she wanted to use colored pencils or crayons. It brought my heart joy to have these conversations. She would lose time and tell me hours would pass without her realizing it. She only stopped because her hands or her eyes got tired.

When my mom died she didn’t have much money but she gave me two things…coloring books and pencils. I feel connected with her when I color and I too lose time. I feel my whole body relax as I focus on coloring the being into life. Just like her, I am gentle with myself if I go outside of the lines. This is for fun, for pleasure, it’s not for being perfect. My mom also had me on a death benefit from her ESL jobs in California. I was completely shocked to inherit $6,000. That was in 2018 and I put that money directly into a self funded retirement account that was fossil fuel free. Honor my love of the earth, and the love of my mom by creating something for my elder years. Because like her, I’ve chosen a path that is non-traditional.

I have the same, ‘don’t want to deal with that…yuck!’ streak in me. I have the same, love people from different cultures and different traditions in me. I have the same, lets pet the cat and have a cup of tea in me. I’m not a reader of books, not like her. But I am a writer and an energetic weaver. She is moving through me now as I type this and she is smiling.

Every time I go to buy more candles at Target for the Gaza altar, I wonder how many more trips down the candle aisle I’ll be taking? There is a place in Tel Aviv, Israel called ‘Hostage Square.’ It’s an open public space with altars and pictures of some of the 240 hostages taken on October 7th. What if we had an open space where the pictures and honoring was of Israelis and Palestinians killed in this conflict? What if? What if we were very clear that governments, whether Hamas, Israeli Prime Minister Netanyahu or U.S. President Biden, often do not represent the people. In fact, if Benjamin Netanyahu had a child that was taken hostage I bet all of my money that there would have already been a deal releasing the remaining hostages alive long ago, and a cease fire. Hundreds of thousands of Israelis have been out in the streets demanding a cease fire deal for the release of the hostages since the Israeli Defense Forces recovered the bodies of 6 killed by Hamas a few days ago, including Israeli-American Hersh Goldman-Polin. Although Israeli protests have been non stop, the biggest was on September 2.

I live in Marina, California and I am neither Muslim or Jewish but I am human. Let’s start there, we are all human. The good, bad, ugly and beauty of being a human. I am also an American citizen. I knew nothing about Israel twenty plus years ago but participating on two separate Compassionate Listening delegations was the fast track down load of a harsh reality. Bearing witness in Israel, sitting with Israelis and listening to their stories, and in the West Bank and Gaza to listen to Palestinian stories. When I say I knew nothing at that time, I mean nothing. I didn’t know we arm Israel with billions in weapons, I didn’t know what settlers were, I didn’t know much. I didn’t think of Israel as Israel and Palestine because how I was raised it was just Israel. Ignorance was better than thinking I know, because of the adamant opinions people hold in this region. The passionate opinions people hold as ‘THE TRUTH.’ We all can be like that…my view is the absolute truth. That’s why there is war. I went to hear stories for a book I was writing at the time, and my ignorance dissolved into heartbreak and shock.

On the plane to Israel in 1999, I was sitting next to a chatty and very friendly woman. She was returning from the United States where she had been on a fund raising trip. She told me she thought the United States was quite boring and that Israel was more like the Wild West. It was exciting. I didn’t really understand. When she asked who I was visiting I told her I was on a Compassionate Listening Delegation to listen to people’s stories. Her tone and demeanor changed like the flip of the switch. “Who are you listening to?,” she asked suspiciously. “Palestinians and Israelis,” I replied. “Why?” She demanded. “To understand what is happening more deeply,” I said. Then I heard about the genocide. You know the one, that the Americans committed against Native Americans; and maybe I should mind my own business. For the rest of the awkward flight I realized…holy crap…this is like a mine field. I recently had the ‘ahah’ that this woman was very likely a settler raising money to support Jewish settlements in Palestinian territories. This was the initiation into my awareness that whatever you say, and who ever you say it to…it could cause an upset. But really the upset is already there, waiting to be triggered. Even back then, twenty five years ago that was the energy field.

We sat with Palestinians who lost their home multiple times from being bulldozed by the IDF (Israeli Defense Forces) under orders of the Israeli government. We sat with Israeli Yitzahk Frankenthal, who’s 19 year old son, Arik, was kidnapped and later killed by Hamas in Gaza. His son was an IDF soldier. I was part of a citizen delegation led by American Leah Green of Mideast Citizen Diplomacy in 1999 and again in 2001. We were from various parts of the world, different ages and backgrounds with many Jewish American participants . Our only job was to listen deeply and witness and by doing so alleviate some of the suffering and see the reality.

Leah is also Jewish American and had been nurturing deep connections with both Palestinians and Israelis for years. She led the Compassionate Listening delegations and she had been inspired by Quaker peace maker Gene Knudson Hoffman. Gene Hoffman was inspired by Vietnamese Buddhist monk and peace maker Thich Nhat Hanh. Gene said, “An enemy is one who’s story we have not yet heard.” It was because of these delegations that I connected with Spiritual teacher Thich Nhat Hanh later. He had endured the Vietnam war and was exiled while advocating for peace in the United States. He was in the United States in the 1960s because the U.S. was relentlessly bombing his people. When he refused to take sides between North and South Vietnam, he was exiled for 40 years from his home country and later founded Plum Village in France. The roots of peace run deep, even during war.

This story is about turning poison into something beautiful, being willing to take a sacred wound and instead of turning to revenge…transforming the energy into light. Instead of dwelling in hatred, going deeper to see the interconnected suffering and find a way out of cycles of violence and revenge. After his son Arik was killed, Yitzahk Frankenthal turned to curiosity. He poured over old newspapers to find names of Israeli parents whose children had been killed in the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. He then brought some Israeli family members to Gaza (back then it was possible to get into Gaza) to meet with bereaved Palestinian families. Together Palestinian and Israeli parents shared their grief of losing their children to this conflict. He is the founder of the Bereaved Parents group but the facts on the ground in Israel made it impossible to continue to travel to Gaza to meet with bereaved Palestinian parents long ago when Israel constructed a separation wall. The Parents Circle still exists. There was a price at the time, he told us he had been ostracized by some in his community for reaching out to Palestinians. But his work continues to this day through the next generation of peace makers. It has never been more needed.

We sat with Palestinian Eyad El-Sarraj, a psychotherapist and human rights attorney who was trained in London. He could have stayed in England and not lived under occupation, but he quipped, “How can I be in England and work for Palestinian human rights?” Dr. El-Sarraj lived and worked in Gaza and that’s where we sat with him. He told us there was a mental health crisis in the children of Gaza from the trauma they have experienced. He connected the dots between the trauma that many Israeli Jewish people experienced in the Holocaust and the ripple effect of that trauma onto Palestinians. His life was dedicated to those who have experienced severe trauma and he was the founder of the Gaza Community Mental Health Programme a non profit particularly focused on serving women and children. Sadly, like so many structures in Gaza, the hospital was bombed in a previous war. Dr. Eyad El-Sarraj died in Gaza at the age of 69 from disease after a life of fierce service.

I will never forget the story he shared during our visit about being imprisoned in a Palestinian jail by the Palestinian Authority for speaking out on human rights. He heard a fellow Palestinian prisoner close by and the Palestinian prison guard who was irate. The guard was screaming at this prisoner and spontaneously the prison guard fell into screaming at him in Hebrew instead of Arabic. The ripples of trauma unfolding in this prison like they unfold in the rest of the holy land. Are we open to seeing the connection of these ripples of trauma to the current horrific violence? Dr. El-Sarraj had been imprisoned by Israelis and Palestinians as he worked for human rights over the years.

Occupation also was not something I knew about before going on these trips. What I saw was Palestinians have their lives controlled by Israel through military checkpoints, a different set of laws, a different world than Jewish Israelis live in and that it is systematic. Collective punishment is a tool that is used to keep Israel and Israelis safe and humiliation is a daily routine for Palestinians. If someone Palestinian has committed a crime against an Israeli, the whole area is punished for it and the family of the person who has committed a crime is also punished.

We met with a Palestinian who lived in a town that had just been under lock down for months, and it had just opened up. Our delegation sat with him and the very American pattern of ‘trying to fix it’ emerged from some our citizen delegates. Instead of listening deeply, there was a series of questions. Like…did you do this, did you try that, have you thought of this? We didn’t see it of course, but Leah did. On the bus heading out of this town that had been under siege for months Leah stood up and said, we just missed the opportunity to listen deeply and alleviate some suffering of these people who have been in lock down. She was very upset. It was a life lesson, one of many that occurred. The desire to fix it, rather than actually let in the suffering and just be present, which actually can be quite painful. However what we witnessed cannot even touch the level of suffering that is unfolding now. I just share it to help open up the awareness that this is not new, the root causes of the horrific acts of October 7 are directly connected to the conditions that have been in place for decades. The collective punishment, the brutal realities of occupation cannot be ignored when looking at October 7.

On October 7, I was completely horrified by the violence and massacre of Israeli citizens enjoying themselves at a music festival and other killings at other locations. The rape and killing of women is also horrid. I have been horrified most days since at the perpetual cycle of violence and destruction unfolding as the world watches. Israeli peace activist Vivian Silver, who hosted our group on one delegation was one of the people killed that day.

I grieve for the hostages most recently killed by Hamas, those hostages killed by the IDF, and all of the hostage families caught in this hell. I also grieve for the 17,000 Palestinian children killed in Gaza, the families displaced over and over and over while the United States sends more weapons. There is no safe place now for Palestinians in Gaza. On my Gaza altar are the hostages, the 40,000 plus Palestinians killed, the IDF deaths, so many facts that are hard to bear. But also those seeds of peace, people standing for peace from both communities exist. There were people standing for peace when I was on those delegations, and there are people standing for peace now. They just don’t make the headlines as often. May the deaths on both sides not be in vein but instead be a painful awakening to shift the collective dream.

I have a responsibility and a deep desire to honor the people I sat with and the people suffering so deeply during this war. I keep fresh flowers on this altar and I update it every month with candles and the most recent facts. It gets harder every month…but it is an act of love not to look away. I sing to the altar, radiate light and love over the region to all who are suffering especially the children, alone and with others on a regular basis. One morning after praying with my coach over this altar I found a peacock feather on a walk. It reminded me that we have the power to transmute poisons into beauty, if we choose to.

It’s hard to believe at this point in my life that I smoked a pack of cigarettes with my diet pepsi or beer most days for a decade. I was a closet smoker because it didn’t fit the mojo of the rest of my life as a recreational athlete. There was some shame about smoking but I was seriously addicted. Like digging through my car back seat for change to buy a pack of smokes, addicted. I tried quitting a bunch of times, and actually didn’t smoke for whatever period of time…sometimes a month, sometimes six months. Then a trigger would happen and I’d pick it up again. I don’t regret this part of my life because it gives me so much deeper insight and compassion for addiction. It wasn’t opiods or booze or heroine, but addiction is addiction. I haven’t smoked for decades and never will again. There is no desire and it is easy.

At the time, I couldn’t see that quitting for any period of time was a success. The mind thinks so black and white, all or nothing, victory or defeat. When it comes to changing habits, it is self sabotage to not be able to see any success. It leads to the kind of B.S. that can spiral. Not Bullshit B.S., Belief System B.S. “Woah is me, I’m a failure.” Yadda, yadda! Pulling out the belief system when shifting habits can be an interesting experiment, and I’m playing with that right now.

There’s the part that wants a different life and sees different habits will help launch and stabilize that life…then there is the “Don’t Wanna” part. The trick is to hold both without making myself into a war zone. It takes the light of awareness to see the machinery. Then to see it with self compassion is another skill set. Self compassion is not the same as self indulgence of apathy. It’s like a parent showing patience for a child being a child, yet guiding her. We all have that little child still inside, at least I know I do.

When I would be getting ready to quit smoking (again), I would always smoke more. So crazy. Got to get those last smokes in before it is Forbidden. Funny how I make my own rules, and then want to break my own rules…like my society does. Maybe you have something you have ‘given up’ but before giving it up wanted it even more. So now that I am getting ready for self employment out of my home…I’m dusting off all of the lessons I’ve learned so far to use in this chapter of my life.

Let’s talk about resistance. I’m learning to see the resistance rather than just BE the resistance within me. It manifests visibly in small and large ways. Avoidance, procrastination, more avoidance. For example after I bought the new Imac I am now typing on, I left it in a box in the corner for months. The me who wants to be a publishing author making a difference with people through images of beauty and stories of heart has been preparing. That part of me has been investing in equipment, from a $1500 wildlife lens, to a printer, to the new Imac upgrading my 10 year old laptop. Then there is another part of me…the whiny, small child intimidated by technology, who pretends the things I’ve bought are not in the house. I did finally break the Imac out of the box and get word for it and had a friend help me set up some stuff. Then there it sat on my desk…until this happened.

Spirit often comes in the form of critters in my world. As I still had my favorite chair, notebook and pen that was nowhere near my ‘home office’ space; Spirit infiltrated Tigerbee one day when I was out. My cat had a blast doing this. Lately, I am more comfortable journaling and making ‘to do’ lists than writing something another human could actually read. But change isn’t about comfort. This was a rude wake up call to find.

You would think I would learn after this mess of colored pencils and a $1600 investment sprawled on the floor. What I learned was to keep my Imac on the floor (not sprawled but upright and dignified-like) so my cat doesn’t knock it off again. I put it on the desk on the rare occasion I used it. My new cat-proof method was in place. On a day when Divinely Inspired (can you hear the music of divine inspiration?) I went to put the Imac on the desk so I could finally transfer my blog over to this computer. I found my cat had chewed through the Imac cord that connects the keyboard to the computer. What is the old saying, things get louder until we hear them? I put vinegar on the cords and I finally took action on the bigger message…’start using your tools and write.’ However, first I had to get a replacement cord.

Chagrin. Laughter (not in that moment but later), humility, courage. Just do some damn writing and use the new computer ALREADY! It doesn’t matter who reads it, it doesn’t matter if anyone reads it and it doesn’t matter what they think. Be my word and write some damn words. Integrity, connecting the dots between intentions and actions. What a concept.

Back to B.S. Where does all of that resistance come from? The electrical wiring of my mind could be thought of as my Belief System. So if I believe the muck, why bother showing up to my desk? The muck could be self defeating beliefs that are not even seen. Like avoidance may be masking the belief, “I can’t.” “I don’t know how to do it.” “I HATE asking for help.” “F it, it won’t make any difference.” These are examples of the muck. I know ya all probably don’t have muck, but I do. So bringing muck into the daylight and saying hello…it’s better than being run on auto pilot by muck control. The muck usually is a belief input from a very young age so look with the eyes of compassion and patience rather than self flogging for not blogging.

Here’s the Mother Load of muck in my B.S., “I’m bad”, “It’s bad”, “It’s wrong.” So put the desire to build a new joyful livelihood and new habits when that is the auto pilot muck control belief system and what do you get? Dissonance. Static. What a liberation to take the judgement out and put in the “this is all an experiment, let’s play with it” in. The time I wanted to stop smoking, I had to have the courage to try again. Even though I had failed to stay quit forever…I tried again, and again, and AGAIN. If there’s a belief in perfection…needing to be perfect, than why bother? That old B.S just rises amplified when perfection is the bar.

Small changes are enough. Put that in your pipe and smoke it. Small changes start shifting the momentum. I have a practice, Reverse Gap I learned from Vishen, where I look back on what progress has been made and list it. This is an antidote to my habitual tendency of only see the goal way out there and the story I have failed to make any progress. To rewire my own thinking, takes practices. When I write those things down I see how off base the story that gets told in my head can be.

What is the tone of your inner task master? Is there an inner task master? Does it say things like, “This could be fun, let’s play?” Or does it say, “Hey, you lazy piece of doo…get going!” Just saying, who do you want to give the microphone to? There is no choice unless we have the awareness to hear the voice from a neutral witness presence.

Back to habits and the experience of becoming a person who never thinks of getting a pack of cigarettes. First off, I have for decades seen myself as a none smoker. With writing, I have seen myself as a wanna be writer who actually doesn’t want to show up to write for others. So the wiring or belief has been I Want to be a writer but I’m not really a writer. Courage to try again from a different motivation? Yes. Courage to try again with habits as a key ingredient? Yes. I am not perfect, so instead of trying to be perfect or not show up at all (all or nothing)…I am ready to Play with a writing practice. I have a yoga practice, I have a meditation practice, those aren’t perfect either. But they work. I’m now inviting in a writing practice. The game of creating a habit of writing, not in order to get to published professional author, just write. Let the words fall where they do. Huzzah!

If I’m paying attention Nature always has a little gift of wisdom to offer. But it takes being present to witness and receive the gift. Animals are my buddies, but only all of them. Some folks are afraid of snakes, I am not. Some folks expect cats and dogs to fight, my guys are brothers. My Pitbull, and Tigerbee cat wrestle like brothers and have played together since bringing home the little furball the size of my fist. Shockingly, Tigerbee as a kitten showed absolutely no fear of Tollie even on day one. As Tigerbee grew larger, he liked to pounce on Tollie and hang from his head like a jungle gym. They also cuddle. Inter-species relations can be harmonious, if we open up to it. Entertaining to watch, I never had a worry that one would hurt the other, and still don’t. But that was my intention from the beginning, that we are all family.

Lizards are also my buddies. When I go out to hike they escort me. So many lizards appear on my hike in Big Sur of all different sizes, shapes, ages and colors. Lizards are curious. Lots of folks may not think much of the scaly creatures but I have a fondness and curiosity about them as well. What I intuitively knew is that they adapt, because they are ancient. A little research confirmed that intuition. They have been around longer than 250 million years. Some say more like 320 million. So, not new to the hood.

Speaking of hood, Tigerbee is not allowed out to roam the hood. For all kinds of reasons. But sometimes, when I am out he can be out with me. Yesterday he jumped the fence and I brought him back in. Later while in the back together, he lunged at the fence again. I immediately grabbed him by the scruff of the neck thinking he was going to jump. As I lifted him up, he was hissing at me which he never does. Then I saw something fall to the ground from him and start wiggling. It was a still alive lizard tail.

Then the rest of the lizard fell out of his mouth and darted into the open door of my apartment. It was the closest escape from certain jaws of death but the little guy ran into a home where a cat and a dog live. Hmmmm. Coming back into my house, I put Tigerbee in the crate. Then I started thinking like a lizard, where would I go if I was scared for my life as a lizard. Brought my flashlight out and I looked under surfaces like the fridge and stove…Holy Moly that was gross! Call for more deep cleaning, yikes! A decade of pet hair was under there. I digress.

I realized lizard would find his/her way out. I just needed to confine the dog and cat in the crate. They are harmonious brothers so they went in together. I covered it with a blanket and went to meditate while leaving both the front and back doors open for lizard exit. Want to practice animal communication? This is one way to do it. I sat in meditation, letting lizard know it was safe now to leave. Then I folded laundry on another floor. I realized tracking lizard down is not the answer and just left lizard to find the way out. I offered safety and time.

There was other weird shit happening that day, so I decided to smudge the house. Took a big smudge stick, started upstairs and thoroughly smudged the whole home, then stepped outside and set the stick upright in the sand to smudge the back. I set the intention, may all be safe in this space. Then I went back to folding laundry. A few minutes later I came back out to check on the smudge stick. Who was waiting for me? Lizard. Very curious and without the tip of it’s tail, it stared at me. Lizard was standing right where it had dropped it’s tail and knew I was the one who freed it from the ferocious kitty jaw. We sat and looked at each other. I smiled, exhaled. “All is well…Yeay!” Then lizard scurried into the next door neighbors’ yard for another adventure.

What can I leave behind like that? Not later, right NOW to thrive more fully? What can my fellow humans, as a species leave behind like that? The gift of animals in this situation is they are not intellectuals, they innately know.…to break their own tail off NOW. It was still wriggling, to my fascination. It draws the predators attention away while it may escape. This one would not have escaped without me. I doubt it. But 250 million years, these lil guys have biologically learned a thing or two. The super cool thing is the lizard survives without it’s tail. It can even regrow a tail.

Humans with all of their capacities and gifts, can get lost. I can get lost. We are at a point where our technological capabilities have far outpaced our collective wisdom to be in harmony with the rest of nature and the Earth herself. We consider ourselves superior and separate. All other species are an afterthought, if a thought at all. This is a collective delusion. I knew to reflect on Lizard and the gifts of this encounter. What insight does it have for me?

I think part of this Lizard tale is to Real Eyes, to dream a new dream I need to let go of the distraction of the collective dream (sometimes nightmare) that is being broadcast by media. To see that wriggling tail (distraction) then become a lifeless tail…and see the lizard survive is a deep teaching. Honoring Lizard medicine is honoring our capacity to evolve and find our ways out of dangerous or lethal situations. Dreaming a new dream which embodies the deep knowing that other species well being is our own well being and that the Earth is Us, is vital. A new dream is required right now, it’s time for me to drop the old dream of dispersion and distraction…like the lizard dropped it’s tail NOW. What could happen if we all dropped something NOW, for the greater good of our thriving?

Sometimes I don’t have to spend hundreds for a workshop to help me wake up, I just have to set a lizard free from my cat’s mouth and then listen for the wisdom. It’s there, can you hear it?

As an empath, sometimes I forget to lay down the burdens of the world. Infact, sometimes I don’t quite get the level that I have put those rocks of suffering in my backpack or how long I’ve been treckin with that weight. In times where whirled peas are veggies on your plate to mix with carrots…I knew world peace for me starts with a road trip to renew my soul. It was time for the little kid and the dog to have an adventure. Those two go hand and hand like rivers and laughter.

Heading into nature was not just about filling the cup, it’s also emptying the cup. Must empty the cup to be able to fill it with refreshing wholesomeness. Emptying my cup meant letting the grief of war and my country providing weapons of war, fall away for a bit. These adult awarenesses have their place, witnessing the pain of war has called me over and over to individual and collective actions. There also comes a time to play, lay down the burdens and go to the river. Like most things in life, this adventure was happier with co pilot…Tollie Dog.

An elder in body, Tollie is still a puppy at heart. So even at 91 (doggo years) he would not tolerate missing one walk. Following several bouts of sickness, Tollie’s return to health was a Carpe A Diem invitation into Joy. Not always will I have this dog by my side so going on an adventure together is more precious. Impermanence is like that, when I remember I am here for the blink of an eye…I want to turn my eyes to beauty and my heart to love.

Shifting vibration happened in the car on the way up. It’s like a choice to Re EnTrain my brain to joy after a stint of ick. Singing is one of the fastest ways to shift vibration, nature also. So combine the two and it’s bliss. I was wandering the roads near Mount Shasta, a bit lost… but it didn’t matter that much. Strangers (park rangers) were my friends and they reminded me there is no sign for the campsite I was looking for. Funny how we are always looking for signs, but sometimes the most magic happens when we stop looking for the signs. Likewise, when I gave up completely on finding the signless campsite turn off, that is of course when I found it. When I didn’t care about finding it any more it shows up.

The first night was like an initiation, a mini initiation. After all, camping was more of a fond idea than a lived experience or mastered skill set. I grabbed camping gear as an after thought on the way out the door to the car in a devil may care do what I feel in the moment…moment. It had been well over two years since I’d been in my tent, so just putting it up by myself was a Huzzah! victory. Then fire was calling because it was after all a super moon. Even though where I was I could not yet see the moon, it was time for fire.

Never miss an opportunity for sacred ritual. With fire ritual came the gift of surrendering part of my programming or belief system it was time to let go. I intuitively knew what to release to fire. With intention, fire is a potent partner in transforming energy and patterns. This fire was not just about release, it was also calling in heart prayers. Big prayers, those for peace, for awakening. But then… ‘oh shit’, this fire is making a TON of smoke.

Shadow work happens pretty non stop if I have eyes to see the shadow. I had gone up to Shasta because I boycott the Monterey Car Show, thinking it is idiotic during climate change times to truck cars in for the rich and rich. Yet, here I was witnessing my fire make as much smoke or carbon as the whole car show probably did. Gah! The prayers were big, and the smoke was BIG.

Fire had a thing or two to teach me that night. First off, it has it’s own will…it’s own energy and it’s own timing. The ‘Oh Shit!’ this is too much smoke was followed by…’kay, I’ve sat with fire quite a while, I’m embarrassed it’s a good time to finish this ritual.’ I tried pouring my La Croix water over fire after thanking it, to complete the ritual. It was time for bed. Funny, the fire didn’t think so. After pouring water on fire, She Re Ignited herself in a stronger way. “We are not done.” That happened twice. Two times doused water on fire…both times fire re emerged. So that night was a reminder, to respect fire. Respect the wisdom of fire, and that ever present life lesson for me…I’m not in control. It was a super moon, super fire.

After finally leaving fire for my tent…I froze my ass off. The next morning I had ice hands and my mind went to ‘a hotel would be so lovely.’ So grateful I didn’t listen to that. No internet, no walls, in trees and by the river was where we needed to be. Fire still had glowing embers that were laughing at me (with me?) in the morning. Amazing slow burn.

The second day we walked in beauty, dabbled human toes and dog paws in cold water, and gave thanks for all of the gifts. Soooo many gifts. We did a ton of walks. Once again, I got to see some shadow when we came back to our campsite. I had a secluded campsite on the first night and by the eve of the second night the rv’s had arrived to become my neighbors. So immediately, my ‘othering’ mind went into gear. Like these RV’s are loud and obnoxious. Smile to the mind, wink at it. Don’t always believe what it thinks. They actually were pretty quiet neighbors.

Either way Tollie and I were so exhausted it didn’t really matter. That night’s fire was much less smokey and I didn’t freeze my butt off. My camping mojo was returning…little things (layers) make a nice difference. After sleeping much better, up and out the next morning by 7:30. And to the falls again. Soak the rocks again, sing to the water love and gratitude. Without water no life, giving thanks is such a treat. The awareness that rivers, streams, water falls, rain…water makes all other life on this beautiful planet possible makes me smile. My heart says thank you with a waterfall of gratitude cascading from my full cup.

During these times of duality and conflict, I wanted to water the seeds of beauty and focus by sharing a writing prompt I came across in my meditation group this morning…’What am I living for?’ Or consider ‘What are WE living for’ too…what follows are my prompted scribbles.

What Am I  Living For?

Living for loving
in small ways
seen and unseen

To water the Birdbath
with a blessing
To protect a Squirrel's nest
with a crystal

To Cry the tears
of death too soon
from addiction
Individual and Collective

Living for giving (forgiving)
gifts in 
the Unseen world

To ReWeave
Strands of Humanity 
Lost in Insanity
Back into Sacred Humanity

That 
Remembers (RE Memebers)
Us All

I'm Shedding
Dead Weight
of the Intoxicating
Fix-it world

Sometimes the old
must die 
before Rebirth
can occur

Shedding the skin
of Objecting
Allowing the fresh

And tender layer
of Blessing ALL
that is
"As it Is"
to emerge

Snake does not
hold on tightly
to One Patch
of old skin
It has become fond of

Without attachment
Snake Wisdom
is to naturally 
Shed

All at once...

We humans may
remember too...
the old ways must end
for the New 
To Begin...

Trust Nature
Letting Go with
a smile and
letting in