Ahhh, the Miracle of the Pots.  The miracle of two pots which sit unobtrusively in various nooks and crannies of our small house in the woods.  One is a teapot, dark blue, with Chinese etchings swirling around.  The other comes from the Southwest desert, perhaps Navajo or Pueblo or Hopi, or perhaps handmade from some artist in the Midwest who dreamed of Native American sage and ceremonies and fast ponies.

Several years ago, I felt a strong desire for two things.  One, to help the world some more.  Somehow.  Any way possible.  To help mitigate suffering, to feed the hungry, to share more.  And the other need, somehow mixed in with the first, was to travel more extensively and see more of the world.

However, we never had much money left over from our paychecks.  It was easy to want to give to the world, or to travel, but by the time the bills were paid it was hard to figure out where to find more money to give or save for personal desires.  So I kept putting off the part about contributing to larger causes.

Until the pots.  (No, I did not say until the pot, ha ha.)  One day, out of the blue, an idea percolated to the surface of consciousness.  What if we gave $1 a day to the world, and $1 a day to personal dreams?  Would we be able to afford that?  And, if $1 a day became too cost-prohibitive, what about 25 cents a day?  Anything to be acting rather than dreaming or talking about giving. 

It was worth a try.  So every day I put $1 in each of the pots and used that action as a moment of the prayer.  The prayers went something like this,  "I pray for the world, may all beings be fed, healthy, happy...."  (whatever concern surfaced during that day served as the prayer, backed by a gift of giving.)  Then the prayer for the personal dream continued with the second pot, "Thank you for fulfilling all of my dreams."  Or something similar.

After a year or two, the daily ritual seemed to get challenging, so I put $7.00 in each pot and prayed every wekend.  After a short while, it became much more convenient to put $10 in each pot per week.  Much better than making change with all those $1 and $5 bills.  And, when there's too much money, the savings account gets the balance with a stipulation in large letters:  "FOR THE WORLD or  FOR MY DREAMS."

But the miracles those pots have created!  Those pots have fed families in India, in the Democratic Republic of Congo and Ecuador.  They have helped people here in the states through numerous projects.  They've helped people burned out by fires, struggling mothers and the Earth.

The personal pot has financed parts of two trips to Europe.  During this recent Belgium and Netherlands trip it paid for the entire airline ticket.  (And, if anyone is worrying about my husband's dreams, don't be.  He's recently bought the boat of his dreams and is busily and contentedly working away on it.)

Mamakat wrote a blog recently in which she said seven cents a day is all we need to rid the world of hunger by 2015.  Seven cents!  Think if we all gave just that much......  Anyway, just wanted to share a method that has worked so well for me.  Anyone have any spare pots in their house?  I can guarantee miracles can be created from those pots.  Miracles for ourselves and others.  Countless miracles.

Look at all the bright souls on Gaia!  Look at all the shining lights everywhere you turn.  And the amazing differences of us all.  Doesn't it humble and inspire you to see the kaleidoscope of individuals and preferences and beliefs arising constantly, new ones every single day?  

There's spiritually-oriented people here, people who claim or seek enlightenment (let's not quibble about the differences for a few minutes anyway.)  There's videos and essays posted here and there on blogs where we can learn about the Now, the Moment, our true selves, God, the Universe, Presence.  Or you can turn a corner and find someone who claims agnosticism or atheism and listen to the wisdom offered from that perspective.  

There's writers here who can share great stories, bloggers with stories up their sleeves.  There's people who love to answer the Questions and Reflections in one, two or three lines.  Ahh, the simplicity of some of those answers!  They pierce to the core with their arrows of truth.  There's outdoor-folks who tell stories of hiking, mountains and roses.  There's indoor folks who speak of ordinary day-to-day happenings with such heart that you want to visit them for a day, to lean into their lives for a moment.  

Three blogs over you can settle into an intellectual discussion that will take you further than you ever dreamed.  Six blogs to the left and halfway towards the Gaia Team you can find emotions being vented or shared, sweet love-emotions, or pissed-off angry emotions.  There's emotions for everyone here!  Just look around the corner and you'll find self-expression rising in sixty thousand different forms.  Aren't we lucky?  So many viewpoints, and they're all free.  

There's folks sharing about practical ways to help our world.  Someone around the bend just shared a dream.  Another lost a job; another described a tragedy.  Some childhood memory surfaced over there.  And look at all the issues arising for examination, issues that we can discuss and examine and learn and ponder.  Look at the multi-faceted viewpoints dancing and swaying with each other!  Look at someone saying, "this is how it is" and the next person saying, "no, no, this is how it is" and then watch how those claiming the views either remain steady or bend in the changing wind.   

And the pods!  Look at all those groups where people can discuss and deepen and expand into so many different arenas.  There's a group for every liking.  Places where people with shared interests can meet, greet and exchange.   

Look at the people coming and going, in Gaia and out Gaia.  Some pull up an easy chair and stay for years, dedicated to the relationship, finding ways to make it work even in the midst of painful challenges or bored spells.  Others visit for a month, or six, or two years, and then move on to different venues where they'll be nourished in other ways.   

Some people dedicate their energies to commenting and honoring friends and passer-bys.  Others drop by Gaia to ooooh and ahhhh over photos.  Some people to chose to write blogs, but not comment on others.  Some grapevine religiously.  Some provide hyper-linking genius. Some people seldom write words or blogs but choose to "lurk" or move anonymously.  

I am thinking of all these people in our Gaia-world as precious.  Sometimes there's a tendency in us, almost unconscious, to want people to all be the same way.  To think the same way.  (at least the same way we think, that is!)  But for those of us who may believe we're One, maybe it's our incredible diversity that comprises that Oneness.  Not one single piece of the jigsaw puzzle can be left out or ignored. 

Blessings to all you puzzle pieces of Gaia.  Thank you for what you bring to the whole of us.

Just wanted to share a poem with you all (or as some folks around here say:  yous guys.)  I've been feeling way too positive lately, apparently, and it's time for a negative blog.  I wrote this poem yesterday and posted it on the Diving Deeper pod.  Some folks there seem to like it, so here you go:

Negative to positive poles

I'm so negative about negativity right now my eyeballs pop out
and roll sideways along the hardwood floors to the dusty corner where they stare, furious, at innocent passer-bys.
How dare he label the squirrel "fucking red squirrel"
How dare she bemoan and weep about possible tragedies
when it's all in her mixed-up crazy mind?
How dare the singer rap about bullshit,
how dare, how dare!
We all know thoughts are transient laborers
passing through,
why do we latch on to them and demand sanctuary?
I'm so angry spit foams at the corners of my mouth and
words hurtle out like daggers.  Don't come too close or you'll die.
I've shoveled and shoveled a thousand years compost on this heap,
adding just the right proportions of optimism and realism,
don't you dare add more shit.
What?  you say we need the shit to fertilize the seeds
of our unborn babies?
What?  you say, come get your eyeballs
and we'll slide more deeply into darkness,
we'll bed it,
we'll peel away all the heavy words
obscuring skin and bones.
Copper-mined negativity reveals gleaming fractures in the rock.
 I wipe the spittle from my mouth
and chew his words.  
I'm so positive now about positivity the eyes raise heavenward
and settle deeply in sockets, blinking open and closed,
open and closed.

Janet's blog got me thinking this morning.  It may not be a good thing, this thinking.  But sometimes you can't help it.  You take a juicy spiritual concept that everyone (or maybe only some people, or maybe just me) believes and turn it upside down and shake it to see what gems and pearls might fall out.

So there's this concept of waking up.  We all want to wake up, don't we?  I want to wake up, you want to wake up, the world should wake up, and damn it, the sun better wake up soon or the world will remain in darkness.

But let's define waking up.  Let's explore it.  Let's start with the opposite. 

And the opposite is....isn't sleep wonderful?  Isn't it wonderful to just cozily snuggle in bed beneath warm fluffy covers and maybe flannel sheets and feel the cool air on your cheeks?  But beneath the covers it's drowsy and lovely beyond words.  And you drift and drift, leaving behind the cares and worries and joys of the day.  Thoughts dissolve and finally you're....unconscious.  Hey, what's wrong with that?  It's one of the best parts of my day; how bout yours?

And then there's dreaming.  Are you awake while dreaming and who's defining "awake" anyway?  I've been asleep while dreaming and lucid while dreaming, and they're both interesting states.  Well, the lucid states were ecstatic and so incredible that I once licked a green cement wall, but that's another blog in itself.  It caused a lot of attachment, a lot of desiring to return to lucidity.  But now, who really cares?  The ego would love to be awake in dreams, but something else prefers just to be aware of all the states arising, both asleep and awake.

Let's say you're an expert in astral travel.  Let's say you can awake-dream yourself to Kathmandu.  (Hi Mila!)  Let's say you can visit tiny green men in Mars-like environments and learn sacred truths.  Let's say you can talk to God.  Or utilize your dream body to visit Machu Picchu.  (hey, look at those ruins, man....let's talk to the Spirit of the Jaguar....)  Let's say you can journey into the bowels of the earth and bring back a sacred rock which ends up healing your neighbor.

Now, there you are in some dream-world, asleep to your body sitting in the chair.  Are you awake or not-awake?  Are you asleep?  What are you anyway?  You have only a limited memory of yourself sitting in the chair.  Would Eckhart Tolle say you're awake?  And why would you want to be awake anyway, if you're learning sacred truths from a Siberian shaman?

Lots of the books say:  feel your body, be aware of your legs walking across the room, your fingers on the keyboard.  Yep, that might make sense.  Because we can sometimes be in our made-up mental words so exclusively that we're oblivious to this waking dream where we're navigating.  We miss the flowers.  Some people might say we need to fully wake up to this world to make choices which aren't in automated reflex mode.  And don't we have a lot of choices operating in automated mode?  Just watch our reactivity!   It might be preferable to wake up rather than respond like a robot (albeit an emotional robot) for the life-span we're given.

Maybe, just maybe, part of waking up means that sleeping and dreaming are part of our reality, too.  Maybe not being aware of your surroundings (but being aware of an Einstein math equation) is a good thing.  Maybe being focused on a limited perspective is OK.  Maybe being awake to a friend's challenges and being oblivious to your body isn't necessarily something to spiral into a cycle of shame and blame.
It could be advantageous to sleep nine hours a night.   What do you think?

Yawn....maybe it's time to go back to bed?

Calling all Santas!  You know who you are.  I can see you sitting at your computers, surfing through Gaia, reading blogs.  We have an assignment for you!  It's that time of the year, you know! 

What? you ask, horrified.  What kind of assignment?  Eyes squinting, distrusting.  Who's she calling Santa Claus, and why?  This is looking dangerous.  Should go read some other blog....

No, dear Santa, you can't.  Because you have a heart of gold.  Because your heart is all silver-spangled and filled with love.  Because some of you have forgotten to shop for....are you ready for this.....GAIA!!

Oh no.  Now you're really disturbed, aren't you?  More materialism?  More money this time of year?  Absolutely not!  It's hard enough to get through all the busy-ness and consumer mentality of the year to consider shopping for some on-line community and we don't have on-line addresses to send Christmas cards....  what's the point here?  This is suppose to be a place to relax and have fun and chill out!

The point, dear Santa, is that there's blog-writers here who have very few blog-comments under their blog-trees.  During this merry time of year, during this cheer-spreading holiday season, let's remember all those who perhaps would love a brightly-wrapped comment beneath his or her spangled and thoughtful entries.  Comments are free!  Comments don't take very long.  They're not necessarily materialistic and they spread so much love, cheer, happiness and goodwill.   

If you can't be Santa with a big sack of comments strewn across your back coming down the chimneys of your friend's contributions, how about being an elf?  As an elf you might consider upping your commentary for the holiday season.  How about ten comments a day if you usually do six?  How about fifteen if you usually do eleven?  Why not comment on some newby-blogs?  Let's not be Scrooges, shall we?  Even if we're too busy and crazy and pulling out our hair, how about a promise for some January or February giving?  

A comment is such a small precious thing, yet it has the ability to add sparkle & light & beauty to the day of another.  It can make us think, expand our awareness and horizons.  It can gently nudge us beyond pre-conceived boundaries.  It can melt our heart.  It can lead us into hope.  It can ignite our dreaming.  It can do so much, to realize that we're heard and understood by others, that we're not alone in this big and sometimes confusing world.  Our community strengthens as we reach out in our Santa or elf suits in caring regard.   

Wishing everyone a happy holiday season, no matter how you're celebrating.  May you be blessed!  May awareness awaken you to the shining beauty that you are.   

 

I am having so much fun.  My daughter called me "giddy" yesterday, and maybe that just fit the mood.  It's kind of hard to explain what is creating all this inner joy, or even why the excitement is arising. 

Let's backtrack to November.  Not just this past November, but all Novembers.  Something inside me goes into hibernation mode as winter descends.  The temperatures plummet and my walks in the woods or on the road kinda disappear.  "It's too hard," the Mind whines, "It's too cold.  It's more fun to sit inside by the fire.  It's more fun to do dishes or vaccuum, for goodness sakes."  And I stop going for walks.  Stop exercising.  Stop breathing the fresh air.  Except for jaunts to the mailbox or the car.  It's really pathetic, but it's definitely a pattern.

This year an idea began hatching.  It started by reading blogs about nature, especially one by Farland in which she describes her relationship with the simple beings such as rocks.  Then I began drooling over photographers here on Gaia, such as the beautiful photos posted by Laura and others.  Such strange behavior, eh?  I started wanting to become Farland and Laura.  Why was that?  Something was hatching deep in the psyche....and guess what hatched???

It came upon a Midnight Clear.  I wanted to dedicate each and every day to spend time out in nature.  On the earth.  Exploring the outdoors.  Being disciplined enough to go outside every single day and find out what's there.  Especially when the Mind says there's nothing there.  Because that's certainly not true. 

So what would provide the incentive to accomplish this?  Writing, of course.  I sometimes think I'm crazy about words, about the way they string together and attempt to express the un-explainable.  I write because it feels me with delight.  Because words and sentences have the ability to make me feel so alive.  And the sharing of these words, in the past year of discovering Gaia, has been like finding a gold mine or winning the lottery. 

So the assignment goes like this:  Every day for 365 days I am heading outside.  And writing about it.  Blogging on wordpress.  This will provide a place where non-Gaians like mom, dad, son, daughter, husband and friends can read, if they please.  Or not. 

You folks are so welcome to stop by and check it out any day you care to discover about the Outdoors in Michigan's Upper Peninsula.  (or outdoors wherever I may be....)  And guess what!  I'm actually learning to use my digital camera and taking pics of the sights around here.  The blog is called Opening the Door, Walking Outside  http://centria.wordpress.com/

Never fear about being delinquent with blogging here on Gaia, though.  It shall still happen.  Even though the Great Outdoors has lots of stories, there's still other stories to share.  There's a billion stories percolating all around, probably more stories than snowflakes.  Doncha think?  

Oh, what a fun question!  I have been thinking about this one for a couple days, especially after reading some of the other interesting responses. 

My first thought:  I met my partner about a half hour ago when he thoughtfully & kindly brushed the snow off my car.  What a surprise!  It's great to meet your partner new in each moment.  And in the next moment, and in the next moment.  Who knows what surprises both challenging and joyful await us?  Let's all continue to meet our partners new and fresh in every moment, refusing the tendency to label and categorize them....

Second thought:  I met my partner back in Rome during a past life when he had me beheaded in the Colosseum.   It was dreadful.  Luckily, a second past life in ancient Ireland cemented a deep and enduring love.  Unfortunately, whenever we hit a rough spell in our current relationship, we have a tendency to hark back to that beheading incident.  (he claims that I fed him to the lions....)  ***  see note below blog ***

Third thought:  Wouldn't one really meet one's partner when one encountered his or her soul?  When one dove deep into the marrow of the "other" and discovered the "self" mirrored back?  When one learned to carry the tender areas of being with love and peace?  When one began to honor and nurture the dreams of another?  When true communication began to grope towards air and light?  Ahhh, such a long meeting.  Sometimes for a lifetime. Sometimes five minutes says "no, this is not the one for such exploration." 

So you want to know the physical meeting details?  Anyone?  It doesn't matter....I am suddenly and unexpectedly nostalgic thinking about it.  We were babes, respectively age 18 and 19, in a two year journalism program at Ferris State.  We were dreadfully immature.  (glad he's not gonna be reading this!) Later we went to Michigan State together, but that's another chapter.  We worked together on the Ferris Torch, a student newspaper, which also served as a two-credit class if memory serves accurately.

I was walking back to Bond Hall from our class late one Thursday eve, when Barry (introducing future partner) invites me to attend a party at his dorm on Saturday night.  Yes!  Of course!  (I was still in that stage of hoping a boy might ask me on a date.)  But was this a date?  Or was this just an invitation to a party?  This was so confusing....

Upon arrival at said party, it became apparent this was "just a party invitation".  He was with another girl from his hometown who imbibed a little too much and passed out on his bunk bed in the other suite.  But it got confusing again.  Because the girl ended up being "just a friend."  So Barry and I leaned against the cement dorm wall on another bunk bed, drank something alcoholic (those were the days when you could drink at age 18 in Michigan) and talked for.....ready?.....FIVE hours!

Something clicked.  Or so I thought.  He called again later in the week and invited me to a Valentine's dance the following weekend.  YES!  A "real" date!  I would not die as a rejected spinster.  (what weird thoughts roam the minds of eighteen year olds....)
However, at the planned dance meeting-time, he didn't show up.  Bastard!  I now began listing off all his unappealing characteristics and why only a fool would agree to a date.  The phone suddenly rang.  It was Him.  His buddy's snowmobile was stuck (or had it fallen in a river?) and he would be late. 

At that line, an experienced older woman of twenty would have hung up the phone.  But I believed.  And, lucky or not, he showed up two hours later and we danced the Midight Slow Dance.  (years ago I actually remembered the name of the official tune.)

A few months later he proposed.  In a garbage dump.  Well, maybe not an official dump, but a backwoods dumping area away from the traffic where we were cuddling.  I remember looking at him, bemused.  I think he said something like, "we're going to be married, you know."

So thirty years have flown by, and we're still meeting each other.  We're actually unlikely partners in many ways.  We are both fiercely independent.  We actually like to do things apart, as well as together.  I like to travel; he loves the land and earth and Lake Superior.  He likes to talk about things and physical objects and stuff like fishing and tractors and I love to talk about relationships, people, connections, spirituality.  But when it counts, when it matters, we both slow down, look each other in the eyes, and truly listen.  We've listened so deeply we've stretched beyond pre-conceived ideas about so much.  And we're still listening.


*** Sorry, a fictional past-life episode, until past-life regression proves otherwise.  I just thought it made a good story..... ***

Does anyone else fall in love with everybody so much it hurts to imagine there's people you'll never meet, never get to feel their precious essences, never get to exchange words and silence and mixed-up thoughts?  Every single person seems like a jewel shining encased in human body and to get the opportunity to witness that jewel expanding forth is the most awesome gift of each day....  As Rumi puts it:  The Beloved. 

It's like everyone is a blessing of the Universal All, totally unique, filled with light.  Of course we can choose to concentrate instead on the shadows and define the essence by the shadows, but that really just obscures the truth.  Think of all the essences of the larger Self unfolding before us daily!  There's You and You and You, and don't you see You coming forth?

Sometimes I focus on the shadows and get lost in them, lost in the pain and suffering of people, lost in the dimness and negativity and longing and hurt.  You can swim in those shadows for hours or days or years.  You can push people away because their shadows hurt you so much, because their shadows encroach on your real or imagined boundaries.  Or perhaps you push shadows away because they don't come close enough, because they don't seem to love you enough.  Oh we pushers!  Every one of us, pushing to and fro.  Can we not sit still enough and notice to play of light and shadow, and simply allow it?

People in the Middle East this morning are battling shadows and imagined shadows.  The Middle East?  What am I talking about?  Everywhere we're battling shadows, both inner and outer.  There is a cashier at the local grocery store I do not seem to love.  She has wild mussy hair and we've an intertwined history.  She's negative.  I do not like negative shadows, possibly because I've not yet fully learned to embrace my own negativity with hugs and tenderness. 

Here on Gaia I sometimes want to meet everyone, develop relationships with every single essence of the Expanded All, to say "yes, you are a miracle" and "look at the miraculous ways you pour yourself into human form!" Sometimes sadness wrenches my heart when I see people talking over there on another blog and I can't get in and it has to be enough to say, "you guys have the relationship, it's OK but damn I may never know about the way your smile lilts upwards or the quirky things you say when exhausted or the way the beauty of you spills out and over and in between and around....."  

Seriously, I am crying a tiny bit right now.  Because of the You that will never be known, except by others.  Perhaps it's selfish to want to Know so many parts of the Whole.  Perhaps I need to dissolve even more until there's only rejoicing that the parts of Self are bubbling up like champagne and there's no need to know, or do, or even feel sadness because there's a rightness beyond every idea we hatch, even an idea that we want to know each precious person.....

And is there a part of me that doesn't fall in love with everyone?  See if you can find both parts in yourself.  The part that loves unconditionally and the part that holds conditions like cards in some crazy Rummy game.  See how many rules keep your love guarded.  See how you nurse past hurts and try to keep yourself safe from pain.  Notice where you close down, guarded and shuttered, revealing your hand to no one.  Yes, there's that part, too.

Just writing these words eases something, allows something.  I think I shall celebrate now.  Celebrate the precious parts of the Whole that birth into this day, and release the desire to know Every Part.  To surrender to a deeper knowing that whatever appears is what appears.  If we don't get to know each other better, I will not drown in the pain of it.  There's plenty to love.  Here.  Right now.  Today.