I have been suddenly filled with an intense desire to write something light and silly and nonsensical.  Yet the topic has not yet presented itself.   What topic might be non-controversial and even somewhat childish or child-like, to balance out more intense energies?

The first thought that occurred was:  childhood nursery rhymes.  What was your favorite nursery rhyme?  But then isn't it true that nursery rhymes were really satirical tools designed to parody the royal and political events of the day when direct dissent would be punishable by death?  How light and silly is that?

Maybe there's even been blogs dedicated to this topic already.  Maybe the Play Pod has already done the nursery rhyme theme, and I'm too lazy to go over there and check.  So, anyone who wants to add a Nursery Rhyme to the comments, please do. 

Here is one that I like: 

A wise old owl lived in an oak
The more he saw the less he spoke
The less he spoke the more he heard.
Why can't we all be like that wise old bird?


Next?   :)

The truth is:  I should be making salsa.

Should be cleaning the house in preparation for my parent's visit tomorrow.  Should be harvesting the garden.  Should be working some more on my two part-time jobs.  Should be making homemade pizza crust for dinner.  Should be returning some phone calls.  Should be catching up on email, reading blogs, preparing for our next Artist's Way gathering.  Should be, should be, should be....

Sigh.  But I'm taking a tiny break while the canning water comes to a boil, and the laundry finishes in the dryer, to write a few words.  One of my biggest challenges in life comes to the surface at times like these.  When life seems Too Busy.  How to cope?  How to get it all done?  How to get everything in?

Usually my life is pretty even.  Not too busy, not too boring.  But every once in awhile it's like the wind blows off the roof and there's a million things Needing Doing.  And then the thoughts go wild.  And, darn it, I still believe the thoughts.  Specifically the Thought which says, "You can't get this all done."   Yet it's been proven untrue a thousand times.  It will all get done, and what doesn't get done is just fine.  What causes us to get entangled in thoughts that aren't true?  I'm witnessing this particular pattern arise yet again.

The beginning of September is always a super busy time around here.  Both of my part-time jobs are going with the greatest intensity of the year.  And now our daughter is home visiting until next Friday when she goes to Belgium for two months, so we're trying to spend every extra minute sharing time together.  My parents, who haven't been here in five years, are coming tomorrow.  The house looks suspiciously askew, mostly due to all the canning and harvesting, and they need clean sheets on the bed where they'll sleep.  The house needs to be vacuumed, dusted and straightened.

The garden begs Harvest.  The beans are growing fat and plump and demand picking.  Basil, zuchini, lettuce, kale and green onions insist "Pick up now or we will ROT."    Mounds of tomatos wait on the counter along with peppers, onions, garlic and hot peppers.  (Fortunately my daughter cut up a whole bunch of vegetables before she and her father took off for a larger city, claiming a top secret errand that mom can't know about.....)  In addition to this we're headed to Georgia in a couple weeks to visit the in-laws, which requires its own logistics for preparation and travel.  And (take a deep breath, Kathy) we're celebrating our 30th anniversary next week, and heaven knows what that may entail.

Excuse me, two phone calls have interrupted this little blog.  The canning water was bubbling fiercely, but I requested patience from the tomatos.  They are waiting..... 

Back to the major point, if there is one.  With everything that's going on in all the spheres (plus hanging around over at the Gaia Networking Pod where they've graciously asked me to the September interview) I may not be able to keep in such close contact with all of you dear friends.  Maybe it will be a bit more hit and miss, grapevine shouting out, random connections.  So hope you don't mind! 

Now, off to can that salsa, and to give thanks for the harvest season.  Thanks for letting me share this bit of busy-ness.  I feel better already.  :)    P.S.  someone once said we shouldn't use the word "Busy" as it carries the energy of panic; perhaps a better phrase would be  "Life is Full right now."

I heartily recommend the practice of meditation.

For practical reasons, if for nothing else.

Why, you may ask? Of what practical purpose is sitting there and watching your breath go in and out, and watching all those three thousand thoughts swirl around like rapids in a fast-moving river?

I suggest that two or five or twenty years from now the value of this practice will become imminently practical.

You will spend years witnessing your thoughts and feelings arising. Every imaginable thought and feeling and dream and urge and physical sensation and desire will rise, peak, fall and disappear. Time and time again you will witness impermanence. As the years pass, you will begin to perhaps fathom that none of the things which arise are actually "you". Pretty soon you will begin to witness something strange happening in your "everyday" life. That witnessing capacity grows.

So suddenly something really challenging (or even minorly challenging) will arise and you will watch yourself watching it all arise. And you will not identify solely with whatever is arising in the outside world. You won't think it's even necessarily "you". It's just something else to watch.

So let's say you watch a family member crash the home computer, doing something you suggested might not be a wise action. You watch this family member crash your computer at one of the busiest times during the year, a time when hundreds of people are dependent upon your computer for your part-time job. Perhaps there's also an added reason or six why crashing the computer at this particular time of the year is not good sport. Perhaps you've been asked to be a featured member in Gaia and need to be responding to interview questions.

Perhaps you're ready to celebrate a 30th wedding anniversary with two parents at the local restaurant when the computer crashes. What then? What happens if you may have meditated for five or ten years?

I suggest that perhaps the Witness simply appears. And you watch what happens. Anger may arise and you think, "Hey, anger, look, anger is arising. Anger wants to throttle said family member!" But you keep watching the irritation or anger arise, and within one or five minutes it disappears. While you wait, watching, seeing what will happen next. Then sadness may or may not arise and you think, "Oh wow, here's sadness, amazing, are those tears wanting to come forth, and that feeling of a heavy heart?" but you keep watching and in the next moment another thought comes by which says, "hey let's just go out and enjoy the anniversary dinner" and you think, "Why not?"

And then there's an entire family dinner at the restaurant in which the thought of the crashed computer does not even arise. And then, later, comes a thought, "Such and such might happen, this is horrible, this is awful...." and the accompanying heart-pounding begins and then you think, "Is that thought true, or is it just a projection of some possible fear?" and you see that it's just a projection, and the thought/feeling disappears and you go on with the next precious moment unfolding, whatever it is.

And, sometimes, this is very interesting indeed.....no feeling arises. More like an instant acceptance of the is-ness of the moment. It's more like a thought or feeling which observes: "ahhh, computer crashing, life passing, it will be OK, life knows what it's doing, how cool and wonderful just to witness this, whatever is arising."

Thus, may I recommend the practice of meditation? It does so often become imminently practical. When the computer crashes or life offers its next curve ball, you may find yourself witnessing instead of thoroughly attaching to a thought or feeling. And then the options for action multiply! You can actually choose. Maybe not all the time, but more of the time. It's really a breath of fresh air. It really is.

Are we really alive?

How can we know that we're alive? Is it because we pinch ourselves and we hurt? Is it because we're breathing? Is it because we feel emotions or think thoughts? Is it because life and love pour through us, enlivening the cells of our body and spirit?

As with most questions, it returns to the question of what it means to be "alive". And I'm sure everyone has another valuable offering about what it means to them. I would like to address this question from the perspective of those who are dead.

Now, wait!, I am sure you are saying. How can this person address the subject from the angle of the dead? How would she know anyway? It's all speculation. We can't know.....this is all heresay. Or imagination.

Well, let's speculate anyway. Has everyone read books about people who talk with the dead? Such as psychics and mediums.....those who make it their business to communicate with souls passing over into the spirit world or heaven or oblivion, or whatever words we might use to describe the movement into being "not alive".

Many of these psychics or mediums say that communication with the not-alive souls is very similar to communication with the alive souls. And sometimes the newly dead do not even have a clue that they've passed on. Seriously. So how can those souls determine if they are really alive?

And does it matter if one is alive or dead? (oh no....sorry....of course it matters to those of us in physical form, as we cherish this beautiful life so much. I know I do. This question is merely speculative; please read on.) But what is the common ground between a person who is not alive and one who claims life?

I would suggest that this common ground might be....awareness. And that awareness supersedes life and death. It is something which resembles an umbrella, sheltering both concepts. Now, of course, some folks might say death is The End. Or that death is like Sleep. In which case awareness may be a little foggy, or apparently absent, or intermittent like a dream. I am hedging bets that awareness is a common glue or bond that continues, that meshes both Life and Death together. Anyone want to bet? Much more interesting than betting on one's favorite sports team.....let's bet if awareness continues!

Sometimes when one has meditated a long time, or engaged in some sort of spiritual practice, the doors to the spirit world seem to swing open a bit. And that's where the psychic types seem to get information. (Or maybe.....sorry....another detour....maybe we're all One and the psychics KNOW because they're One with the person that they're perceiving.....but that's maybe too much of a detour, so let's go back with the original thought.)

A common theme is that someone dies and doesn't know that they're dead. Of course, the majority of people do seem to know; they seem to pass through a tunnel into the Light, bypassing an intermediary purgatory-like state of not-knowing.

Years ago, in the midst of much psychic opening, I had an onslaught of dead people wanting to converse. Yes, yes, please ignore that last sentence if it sounds ridiculous. You can call it active imagination, incredible imagination, stupid imagination or even true....whatever your inclination and beliefs.....but dead people have showed up with amazing information and stories over the years. Not so much any more, but maybe ten years ago, this seemed to happen quite frequently.

You ordinarily wouldn't want to believe any of the information these dead people shared, except they would craftily add a bit of truth which other people could confirm. Such as: a snippet of conversation, a physical object, or some other event that would "prove" to someone that the conversation was "true".

And some of the recently dead people simply had no idea if they are alive or dead. One young boy drowned in a nearby lake and couldn't accept the fact that he was dead. How could he be? He could perceive his mother, his house, and many other logistics.....he insisted that he was alive. Now how does one respond to a dead person insisting that he still lives? This is a big challenge. You can let them believe what they want....and that might be an approach I would take today....or you can convince them of the futility of their thoughts.

Because I didn't know any better or because I wanted to help, I decided to convince the young man of his death. We conversed for at least a couple days. He finally accepted that he might be dead....even though all appearances seemed otherwise....because no one would communicate or talk to him. Eventually, after offering several different possibilities to resolve his current dilemmas, the boy actually saw the "light" or an energy or something and resolved to leave the earth plane. I saw his soul move towards the light and then dissolve beyond my sight. And he was gone.

So the question remains: what is it that makes us alive? Was this young boy still alive, as he thought, even though his physical body had dropped away? Are we alive in dreams when our consciousness seems less clear or distinct? I think what is the most important thing is what transcends our aliveness: our awareness. And am betting at least $100 that it will supersede aliveness. It will win. It won't let us down, alive OR dead.

Autumn comes cautiously this year, wearing her dress of yellow leaves. She's dreaming of the orange and red spectacle she'll wear in a few weeks; now she carefully pins a spiral of drying ferns in her long and wild hair.

She watched summer steal the male hummingbirds away at the end of August; they flitted and dive-bombed near the feeders and flowers for almost two weeks as they prepared for their solo venture towards warmer sun. The female hummingbirds are leaving now, the second hummingbird contingency moving south. The geese begin honking and restlessly watch the skies, waiting for some inner knowing to wing them in V-shapes in that southern direction. Flocks quack and gather down in the bays. Some flocks already rise in honking formations, wings beating steadfastly, heeding summer's warning.

People ponder building fires in woodstoves, or turning up the furnaces to mitigate the early morning chill. Temperatures dip to the 40's and 50's overnight; inland areas away from the lake will soon be frosted. The garden produce still lingers, but the edges of plants turn brown and wither.

September rains drench the land and the earth shudders in relief, allowing the moisture to wet her crevices and nourish yet unborn seeds. A day dawns cold and hard after the days of warmth, a forebearer of winter chill. The next day shifts, and warmth returns. Children still run into the icy lake on weekends, squealing. Parents shiver, pulling sweaters closer, closing eyes, trying to pull the warmth deep inside, not to be forgotten, something to warm the marrow during frigid and snowy nights.

Fawns no longer attempt to nurse beneath an impatient mama; their spots fade. They leap and cavort less frequently. Now they munch steadfastly on grasses, roots and leaves, attempting to nourish themselves for seven to eight months of winter. A buck wanders by, antlers draped in velvet, wary-eyed. He knows the hunters will be out soon as people put meat in the freezer for winter. Even now the bow hunters stealthily seek venison.

The woods fill with scurrying sounds as the animals prepare for the changing seasons; the chipmunks and squirrels harvest acorns. The tree sap moves from nourishing the leaves into the underground roots.

Autumn drifts across the land in her yellow dress of leaves, her breath cool on the cheek, her beauty legendary. The world holds its breath in wonder.

The trip down to Atlanta was disconcerting.  And it was all the fault of Gaia.  

In the past, when traveling, it's been possible to delight in unknown strangers, to watch faces and clothing and attitudes, and secretly revel in the unknown stories of a thousand travelers.  I happily enjoy the myriad of expressions and untold secrets and revealing energy.  It's possible to observe as a stranger, remote and yet interested, detached and yet peripherally connected.  

Not on Wednesday.  Every face seemed to possibly be a Gaian.  I looked into the faces and stances and tried to determine:  could this be Sherry, Erin, Paul, Lisa, Nicole, Emma, Lenore, Eric, Deborah, Sandra, Meenakshi ?( add your name here, because it went on forever....)  I stared befuddled and tried to picture Gaian friends lurking beneath these strange physical exteriors.  Every person was now a possible Gaian friend with a physical body.  It was so disconcerting I felt off-balance, like someone on a ferris wheel continually circling, wanting the familiar ground.  

I tried explaining this to Barry but he just wrinkled his forehead, like I was talking some sort of foreign language.  It's so different when you first meet people in physical form.  You assess their physical form first; you form impressions; you then slowly begin to know a person's heart and thoughts and soul.  In Gaia we do this backwards.  We meet the thoughts and heart and soul first, and then perhaps the physical voice during a phone conversation, and finally have to wrap it around to a physical form during an actual meeting.  We avoid the trap of physical judgments and assessments; I'm sure we're perhaps challenged in other ways, but we mostly avoid the trap of calculating physical beauty, clothing, style, warts and hairdos.  

So I spent the two airplane flights and three airports assessing possible Gaians.....and then waiting in anticipation to meeting the second new Gaian person in physical form.  (This is not counting two Gaians that I knew before coming to this community; they were met in physical form first, following the usual pattern, and only later discovered as Gaians.)  Halal the Giraffe and I were to meet at the Atlanta airport, in front of the Atlanta Bread Company, for exactly one hour before Barry's brother whisked us away to the in-laws.  Everyone graciously allowed space for Kathy to meet her friend....although no one is quite sure what this strange online community of Gaia might be anyway....and Barry and his brother went off on their own while I waited almost nervously in front of the Atlanta Bread Company.  

Halal said she would wear her crazy patchwork pants, so that I might recognize her.  I said I would be wearing jeans.  Those were are only clues.  That, and the fact we set the time for 2:30 p.m.  So along came 2:30.  I sat and watched people thinking....could that be Halal?  Could that be Halal?  Could that be Halal?  

And suddenly up walked a woman with a crazy black and white patterned pant suit.  She was scowling and carried a small suitcase and looked remarkably coiffed and sophisticated.  Could that be Halal?  I thought....could that be the physical form of the loving laughing Giraffe we've come to know? Could this Gaia world really hide so much....would our encounter be strained and challenging and.....?  

No sooner than that thought had appeared on the inner horizon, to the left, came a smiling elf-like short-haired beauty wearing crazy patchwork pants and merrily approaching with ease and delight.  There was no lingering doubt!  There was not a moment of hesitation!  We threw our arms around one another in a big bear-hug.  And the talking started without stop for the next hour.  It was as if Gaia had laid the foundation (as well as a phone conversation earlier in the week) and now the physical form simply cemented the friendship we had already hatched.  

We shared so much in that hour.  I kept marveling at the fact that her physical form was like a layer of clothing over her energy; it suited her perfectly.  There was no strain in the area of conversation; we could have been friends for a long time. It was that easy.  I have heard other Gaians remarking the same thing about their physical encounters.  How easy everything was.  How so many of us have such an easy rapport.  How our online relationship is mostly deepened by the physical meeting.   

Wow!  I wanted to wait until we returned home, to write this blog and post a picture of Halal and me.  But I couldn't wait another few days!!  She had  asked a young army fellow lingering with his sweetheart to snap a picture of us on my new camera.  He obliged.  You will see the picture when I return to our computer in Michigan, although some tech whiz would definitively know how to download it on this computer now.   

I now have a different attitude about our trip home on Sunday.  It surely won't be disconcerting.  (Although who knows?)  I feel somehow more at ease with the strangers in airports and airplanes.  If they're friendly and smiling and warm and inviting, they're surely Gaians.  Or soon-to-be Gaians.  Isn't it grand?  :)            

This question could be answered in multiple ways:  1)  I never act; I am always genuine or 2) I always act or 3) I sometimes act; I sometimes am genuine.    If this were a multiple choice test, which one would you choose?

It really depends, doesn't it?, on how we look at the question.  Are we looking at it from the level of personality, or the level of the Witness, or perhaps at different levels of awareness? 

From the level of personality, one might attempt to act in genuine authentic ways.  One might even put this as an ideal, as something which one wanted to attain.  One might even try to be transparent, truthful, genuine. And then one might measure everything against that ideal and notice when one is being half-truthful, telling outright lies, sharing almost-truths, or being wishy-washy.

So on this level one might say with assurance, "I am a genuine transparent human being" or "I am always acting, never really revealing my true self." or even "I am sometimes acting and sometimes not."   Whatever the answer, it comes from the level of personality, from the ego acting and re-acting, the ego choosing and deciding and consciously making a statement.  Nothing wrong with this.  We all have personalities; this is a perfect personality answer.

If we look at this question from the level of the Witness, what is revealed?  Suddenly the lens looks different.  We're observing what is, versus some creation from the human level.  (although, don't quibble now!, those two could be the same, I know....)

From the level of Witness, it often looks like one is acting.  The energies come into awareness and present themselves before zooming out again.  One watches, mesmerized sometimes, as an energy looks like a personality and offers a viewpoint.  The roles present themselves, one by one, with fascinating ever-changing perspective.  The Witness could say one is always playing a role, as that which Witnesses is beyond any role.  The Witness may be the only character who is not playing an active role (please don't quibble once again....yes, from another viewpoint, the Witness is definitively a role which will eventually be swallowed by something which supersedes even the Witness.... or so "they" say....whoever "they" might be....)

From the Witness, in one moment there is an energy who is controlling or planning.  Then comes a loving energy.   Then comes an energy which cuts away.  Then comes.....and then comes....the list is endless.  The day is filled with role after role.  All the world is a stage!  And we are both the participant and viewer.  As participant we play the roles.  As viewers, we perhaps munch popcorn and stare transfixed at the screen.

So, beyond the personality and Witness, what is there?  Let's say we're both the actors and the movie.  Simultaneously, we're both.  We get to play; we get to answer questions such as this from any perspective we desire, or from any perspective which surfaces!  We're something which doesn't need to take any of the roles too seriously....unless we want to....we're something which somehow eclipses the word "we" altogether and chooses in each moment.....watching....participating.....Pass the popcorn, Please!

I awoke at 4 a.m. thinking about habits. Compulsions.  Addictions.   

This is not a new subject for thought.  Nor a new hour to awake thinking about the subject.  In fact this subject has occupied a good percentage of my thought molecules for a great many decades.  What has been different recently is the seeming 180 degree switch concerning the topic in recent months.  

I suppose we have to return to past decades to explain this story.  In my twenty year quest for enlightenment or spiritual growth or freedom, a continuing theme highlighted the pages of spiritual autobiographies and guidebooks.  It is our attachments or fears or indifference which keep us from "realizing the Self."  Some of the great masters seemed to utilize pure will to discipline or dissolve the attachments and fears, an almost steely-eyed commitment to a life of purity and intention.  

Having a certain degree of warrior inclination, and noticing a hell of a lot of attachments (not to say fears and indifference) I decided to utilize the proverbial sword of light and cut all those attachments at the base.  Thus began a couple of decades of Ninja determination to rid Kathy of every bad habit, uncontrollable compulsion and/or rock-solid addiction.  While we were at it, out with the fears!  Down with indifference!  Nothing would remain except some love of God, a willingness to be shaped into a creature doing only the will of God, the will of love.  

Yes.  Nice ideals, you might say.  Or No, the poor thing is going down a useless path just thinking she can accomplish such lofty or silly goals.  We humans get these ideas in our minds ...and watch out!  We're in for the ride of a lifetime.  I'm not saying these ideas aren't worthy, or a good way to spend a lifetime.  Just suggesting that every intention sets off its own chain of responses.....so buckle those seat belts and prepare for the roller coaster towards realization.  

The problem with cutting out one's habits and compulsions and addictions is this:  often the more we attempt to rid ourselves of something, the greater the strength with which the habits cling.  Or the more sideways and shadowy the compulsions become.  The harder one tries to kill an aspect of awareness or reality, the more persistent that awareness becomes.  Although some of the great masters may have been able to take each and every attachment and fear and indifference and penetrate it to the core and dissolve it....that wasn't the reality for me.  

So, at various times during two decades, I cut out alcohol, coffee, various minor bad habits, computer card games, negative thoughts, anger, too much this, too little that, tea, too many visits with friends....whatever I determined in the moment that was separating me from God, self-realization, freedom.  Whatever felt like a movement away from Source, versus a movement from or towards Source.  Out, out, out with all of you!  And don't come back!   

But they would never go away completely.  No matter how hard I tried.  No matter how fiercely the warrior worked her intention and dreaming and dissolving.  Oh yes, by strength of will it was possible to make 'em go away for a week, two weeks, a few months (and thirteen years, in the case of drinking alcohol).  But the minute the resolve weakened at all, we were back to square one.  I was drinking coffee again.   

And now you can imagine (if any of you have been involved in this routine, it will not be imagination) the shame and guilt which intensified!  There was the constant feeling of being a failure.  Of not being able to "do it".  Of failing, failing, failing.  The habits were nooses.  The compulsions were gunshots.  The addictions.....well, it was impossible to decide what was an addiction.  At some point during this inner war I was labeling two cups of coffee a day as the worst addiction on the planet.  

Now I have been writing this blog sporadically for almost two hours, sharing all sorts of stories and personal thoughts about addictions, and then deleting them.  There's almost too much to say in one sharing, so will limit it now to this:  there are addictions in which one must move to stop the behavior.  Now.  In any way possible, with any help one can get.  A rapist, murderer, alcoholic, gambler (insert your choice here) may need to soberly and completely turn away from the addiction which is seemingly controlling or hurting or destroying lives.  A real addiction is something in which often a door needs firmly to be shut.  

However, sometime in the last year, my entire attitude about habits and compulsions has shifted.  I no longer try to stop whatever is arising in consciousness, decimating it with that warrior's sword.  Habits and compulsions no longer feel like things to eliminate, things to dissolve, things to chop away.  Instead, the attachment arises and you witness it.  The attachment disappears, and you witness it.   The witnessing itself seems to do something.  And if isn't doing anything, something else has happened.  I no longer care.

The attachments and fears and indifference feel more like waves in the ocean, rising and falling.  They don't feel separate. For a pertinent example: In the past, if I had felt a compulsion to go on Gaia or check email or play a computer card game, there would be the rising of the compulsion, the desire to do something differently, the repetitive movement towards the computer, followed by the shame and guilt, followed by the desire to do something different next time.  A cycle of desire and shame.  

Now the desire arises to go to the computer and I do it.  Is it an attachment?  Who knows?  Maybe yes and maybe no.  Sometimes it's possible to witness the desire and wait and ask, "do I really want to go the computer?" and then sometimes the answer is "no" and sometimes it is "yes".  But it's gentle.  The process now is as gentle as a feather.  The violence is gone.   

This morning at 4 a.m. the thoughts in the head started going full-tilt.  Another part of me started saying, "You idiot!  shut up!  No more talking  You are compulsively talking."  But another awareness simply allows it.  For whatever reason, here we are in the middle of the night watching thoughts arise and fall, arise and fall.  But the game of shame and blame and judgment has simply, for the most part, collapsed.  Not entirely.  But enough to feel huge relief and joy and amazing peace. 

Think of some blogs like waterfalls.  Out they pour from some unknown up-river Source, scattering diamond eyes of water down into an abyss spreading into clear rushing streams.  The comments pour out behind the blog adding to the moment; dancing river-speak scatters everywhere.  

Think of some blogs like newly-planted seedlings.  More tentative, they sprout seedlets of ideas, seedlets of possibility.  Maybe no one comments, no one waters, no one mulches.  The seedlings grow into ripe fruit or they don't.  How could a blog grow into ripe fruit?  When someone eats it of course, when someone gains even the tiniest bit of awareness from the offering.  Sometimes it's the planter eating the fruit of the seed....sometimes it was meant for the planter all along.   

Think of some blogs like trees.  There's a time for everything.  There's a time when the sap rushes helter-skelter in the springtime to nourish the leafing green buds.  There's a time when the greenery dresses the forest in finery.  There's a time when the leaves turn to golds, oranges and reds.  There's a time for fallow, for deeper reflection, for emptiness. There's a time for each blog writer under heaven and earth.  Does the blog writer understand that?  

Does the blog writer want all blogs to nourish all beings?  Does the blog writer understand the value of tiny blogs, of unanswered blogs, of blogs seemingly hanging in space, dangling?  Does the blog writer understand popular blogs, of which a price must be paid?  Does the blog writer yearn for more comments, less comments, more meaningful comments, less meaningful comments, friendlier comments, less friendly comments?   Does the blog writer understand anything, or does he simply blog?   

Does the blog writer believe in the words which come forth; does he take credit?  If he takes credit, does she bear responsibility?  If it's a waterfall of free-association coming forth, a seedling barely mouthing words, or leaves fluttering to the ground....can one locate who is writing?  Can she nail the blog writer like a butterfly pinned on a board and say, "Those are my words and I shall stand behind them."  Or are the next words already coming out and the butterfly is free to flutter in orange and black splendor against the yellow flowers.  

Blog writers, be ye not afraid.  Express your essences, let your petals scent the wind.  As expectation arises, as fear arises, as judgments come forth.....write your blogs.  There's food to feed the multitudes, bread and fish for everyone, broken for you on Gaia.      

The worst part of our recent trip to Georgia was the TV.

My father-in-law listened to it intensely; he watched the unfolding of the current economic crisis by the hour.  In between our lovely time together, the TV peppered us with news about doom, despair, pain, suffering and negativity. 

I walked by the TV looking at it like some foreign object invading our special time together.  Some would say it was speaking the "truth".  Some would say that the TV is mirroring our scary economic firestorm.  Some would say the TV is needed as an instrument which keeps us informed.  Some would say that the TV is needed to prepare us, to keep us on our toes, to help us know what to do as the economy tilts and roller coasters up and down.

Hmmmm....all that may be true.  Who knows?  All I know is that when I listen to the earnest-faced TV reporters and believe them, my heart sometimes starts pounding fiercely.  All sorts of thoughts careen through the Mind:  we're gonna die, it's all over, I'm scared, this is good, this is bad, what if we have nothing to eat, what if it's true, what if our children suffer, what if we lose our jobs, what if we have no money,  we should pull out all our money from the bank and hide it under a mattress or dig a hole in the woods and fill it up....and the Mind continues on and the emotions flare like matches.  Fear grabs us by the throat and chokes us. 

Mostly I prefer to turn off the TV and just peek in at the Internet news briefly, keeping informed what's happening in the larger world.  We rarely watch television here at home.  Sure, we peek in mostly on a local station in the morning, but we don't keep our eyes peeled on the TV day and night.  (except at this moment my husband is watching TV and I'm saying Turn It Down Please!)  And I'm all for people who can watch TV without buying into the emotional fervor of projected fear....it's not the TV or media which should be blamed....it's simply another external object.....it's our interpretive and reactive tendencies which can be witnessed, observed and questioned.

What if it's all going to hell in a hand-basket, as they say?  What if we'll all be homeless and hungry within a year?  What if we all lose our retirement savings, assuming we even have any to start with? What if our bank goes under and we lose our checking and savings accounts?  What if, what if....?

What does it help to watch TV right now and feel the fear?  What does it help to be caught in a scary rope around our neck day and night?  When the TV is off, I look around our life and feel grateful and cheerful and downright content.  Maybe we're lucky, in that we still have jobs and food.  I don't want to minimize anyone's pain who is struggling or challenged right now.  There may be people who are truly suffering, who don't know where to find their next meal, who don't have enough gas money to buy groceries.  There are people who out of work looking for food to feed their children.  But they are not living in projected fear; they are dealing with what is in the Moment.

But what if we're doing relatively OK right now, except when we listen to the TV news?  What if we live in the Moment, in this Moment, feeling whatever security and peace and gratitude and joy that we have? If we can't find gas, if we can't find food, then we deal with that in the moment when it arises, when and if it arises.  And in the moment it's real....it's not a projected fear. 

Projected fear is a funny thing.  It's so often imagination.  It's so often simply not real.  Our minds have this tendency to latch on to future projected imaginations and we suffer as we create stories of fear, despair or negativity.

Some people will say:  we need to know, we need to prepare, it's important to keep us informed.   We need to know what to do with our money, we need to stock our pantries, we need to know when to take money out of the bank, when to invest or divest in the stock market. Maybe.  But there's a fine line between allowing the media to scare and intimidate us, helping to create a worldwide web of paranoia and fear.....and resonating and vibrating with an energy of hope, of resolve, of patience, of trust.  The what is of this moment, even when it's horrific, is often not as "bad" as the projected fear of our crazy minds resonating with emotional stories of imaginary despair and suffering. 

When there's a family down the street (or even in Africa or Ecuador) who is suffering, let's do everything we can to help. When we're suffering, let's act with the best integrity and trust and love that we can.  But in the meantime, why shiver in projected fear, adding to a national or worldwide panic?   Let's listen closely to our deepest inner truth and act in ways which reflect our highest intentions for peace, for awareness, for love.  Let's act with a conviction that comes from our deepest heart,  from what is, and not out of projected fear.

P.S.  It's not really the TV.  It's our minds.  Keep the TV on if it's not choking you.   :)