It's been so many years since that first Vision Quest, it's kind of hard to summons it back.  It's like digging in an attic.  "Now where is the box with that memory?"  "Must be over there, under all those other memories..."

Anyone reading this for the first time might want to scroll back to Part I first.  It explains some of the background concerning Native American fasting and vision questing.  Back in the late 1980's and early '90's I was head-over-heels in love with the Annisnabe (Ojibway) path.  It had opened closed crevices and fissures and ravines in the soul. 

But, as usual, more questions and confusion rose.  What to do, what to do?  The inner questions rose ceaselessly.  Therefore the decision was made:  Go on a four day, four night, vision quest.  See if you can do it.  Just try. 

And, of course, I was hoping for one of those astounding multi-color visions where Spirits appeared in vivid color and dimensionality saying clearly and succinctly, "THIS is what you should do."

Little did I know that the "answer" appeared the moment I sat in the circle.  But the ripple-effects of the answer vibrated outwards for many years afterward.  The ripple-effects are still vibrating outwards.

Waking up, the first morning, that mid-May day in a small circle, with snow everywhere (and snug inside the snowmobile suit left by loving and thoughtful family members) I contemplated Life.  And an inner voice said, very clearly, without preamble:  "Your vision is your life."

What?  Ridiculous!  Let's wait instead for the Spirits to come and give a complicated dream-message pointing toward a specific set of instructions. 

"Your vision is your life."  The words resounded endlessly until I wanted to scream, "shut up!  shut up!"  But they repeated, like a mantra, during those four awful/wonderful days and nights.

Has anyone attempted to fast for that length of time?  It's...well, it can be...hell.  Especially if you're used to three meals a day and distractions like reading, computer, talking, whatever.  The worst part is sitting there.  Endlessly.  You start to literally go crazy, that is if you're me.  Maybe some folks could handle it a little more gracefully.

The first day:  tolerable.  The second day:  increasing pain in all directions from hunger to boredom to absolute restlessness that threatens to annihilate.  But the worst thing is THOUGHTS.  They start to go crazy, especially if one has no experience in meditation (which I didn't, back in those days.)  The third day:  I began to think everything was hysterically funny.  Everything.  I lay back and laughed at every thought.  The president (who the heck was the president then anyway?) was doing very strange things, in my crazy and uncontrolled thoughts.  Would have to go back and read journals to share with you the entire scenario, but it was all craziness anyway.

The worst part:  no dreams.  No visions.  Just that insistent voice saying, "Your vision is your life" and eventually it added, "You could have a big vision.  But you know what it would do?  It would separate you from the rest of Life.  You would make it special.  You don't understand yet...but THIS is what it's about.  And not just this Vision Quest.  It's everywhere, it's everything.  You don't need another dream, and you don't need a set of instructions."

On Day Four I literally almost crawled out of the woods.  It hurt to walk, to move, to exist.  It felt great to have accomplished the quest (in some strange way), but no grand vision had presented itself.

An interesting "vision" did occur after falling asleep that following evening.  I fell asleep and then woke up abruptly to visibly see a white female form hovering near the ceiling.  It looked like a ghost in it's ephemeral spirit-like form. You know what this courageous quester did?  With all my strength I shouted out, "MOM!" calling for my mother, who lived 500 miles away.  So much for blase...  My husband ran to check on the kids, to see who was calling out for mommy.

The fascinating post-quest part:  The world opened up.  It was the very ACT of doing the quest that opened doorways, helped in six billion ways, provided energy and assistance from the Universe.  The intention behind the quest, and the dedication to do it, proved more valuable than any dream-vision.  At least for me.

I later did a three-day quest, and several one day quests.  The final one day quest out in Montana in 2001 proved to be one of the most wonderful experiences of my life.  Easy, effortless dream-and-physical-reality-becoming One.  The divisions between the worlds dissolved. 

Of course, by then, I had some small slight inkling that "Your Vision is your life."  Still realizing that one...

I've been thinking lots for the past two weeks about intention and motivation.  These are the hidden agendas and plans and thoughts behind our actions.  And how these two little words "intent" and "motivation" get us into so much trouble during our short lifespan on this planet.  

I think where we often get into challenges is that we think we know another's intent or motivation.  We look at his or her action and immediately our mind begins doing what a mind does.  It judges.  It decides what the motivation of another might be.  It labels.  It puts the other into a box, turns the key, locks it, and often refuses to budge from the initial interpretation.   

Oh what's an example in the six million possibilities in attempting to explain this further?  Let's take a scenario on Gaia, as that's where we are.  Let's take the arena of commenting on the blogs of others.   

What is the motivation or intent when we comment?  Are we even aware of our own intention or is it invisible?  Do we just comment or not comment without any other awareness?  Or do we peer deeper and see our intents.  

When we shine the flashlight on our commenting-motivation, we can see that perhaps we're commenting for dozens of reasons.  Here's a few.  We like what the person said, and want to support that viewpoint.  Or we don't like the viewpoint, and want to disagree.  Or we like the person but not what they said, and want to support the person.  Or we don't comment because we have nothing to say.  Or because we hate what's there.  Or we don't like the person who just commented and don't want our name near his or hers.  Or we're trying to make the community more vital by commenting a lot.  Or we receive lots of comments on our blogs and want to share the wealth.  Or we don't receive lots of comments on our blogs and want to try to get more.  Or we're hesitant to comment because we might get misunderstood or blasted.  Our we have enough friends, and don't want to encourage any more.  Or we're looking for friendship.  Or...we could list a hundred more reasons.   

Behind every comment is a motivation.  Are we aware of it?  Are we aware of what our patterns are?  Maybe our motivation shifts daily, or hourly, or every third minute.  Maybe all of us have commented (or not commented) for all of the above reasons, at different times.   

When we shine the flashlight on our motivation, there's now increased awareness.  We can continue to act, but we act knowing our intent.  And is our intent still our intent?  Or is it an old pattern re-playing endlessly, something we don't even believe in anymore?  

I have spent the past couple of weeks examining my own intentions and motivations behind actions.  There are some really out-dated patterns still running!  And there are some motivations that are really what I want to create in the world.  If I hadn't paused to look under the microscope, the automan response could have continued on and on.  And maybe it still will.  But bringing the unconscious toward consciousness usually proves a gift.  

Don't we see people, again and again, judge another person's motivation?  And it's usually according to their own motivations.  If we're commenting (or not commenting) to get comments on our own blogs...won't we see that when we're looking at the comments of others?  Something in us usually assumes that people are working off the same motivations as we are.  

But how true is that?  We're a mixed-motive crew.  We're a mixed-motive person.  We're a mixed-motive Gaia.   

Let's say we find ourselves not responding to a blog because we think we have nothing to say.  Or because we think we're too busy.  What if we sit quietly and see if it's a pattern running through us, or if it's true freedom to respond?  One of my patterns is to respond to lots of blogs with the motivation that, if I'm there reading, it's important to give a few words of support and encouragement.  Is that true?  Or is it a pattern to just started gabbling off a response without sitting quietly and seeing if that's how the deepest self wants to respond?  

Whenever we find ourselves judging another, perhaps we should ask, "Do I really KNOW his or her intent?"  Or am I projecting onto the other, what my intent might be in that instance?  

This has been a very valuable exercise.  When we're stuck, when we're judging others, when we're confused...look deeper to the motivation.  State the motivation aloud.  Then act.  But act with the full awareness of the hologram of what's behind the action.  Or choose differently.   

(Looking deeper:  what is my intent to write this blog?  To share with others what has been helpful to me recently.  To articulate it so that I understand it better.  To state that we never know another's intent and motivation.  We can only guess.  And when we think we do, we're often wrong.)

Do you remember back in high school when all you wanted was to be popular?  Liked?  Loved?  Cool? 

OK, maybe you all didn't want that.  I did.  I wanted to be in the in-crowd.  Of course, we had this small high school (graduating class, 165, if memory serves right which probably it doesn't). 

You tried to fit in so hard.  Wear the right clothes.  Talk right.  I couldn't figure out why I couldn't fit in, no matter how hard I tried.  I wasn't un-cool.  But not in the "popular" group either.  They had some sort of secret.  Something the rest of us couldn't fathom.  Something the rest of us couldn't attain.

Some people chose just to ignore the whole Popular thing altogether.  They would just be themselves.  The might call themselves "nerds" or "outlaws" or goodness knows what.  But I was too scared to be myself.  Who the heck knew what "myself" meant anyway?

That took another fifteen to thirty five years to figure out.  How to be authentic.  How to be myself.  How to not care what anyone thinks.

The problem with banishing the unpopular part of oneself is this....she remains in the psyche.  We all have a popular and unpopular part.  Depending on circumstances, one part is more dominant in the material world.  The question is:  How do we relate to the opposite part of ourselves?  Can we love, allow, accept it?

For years, so much of what I wrote was treated with disdain, pushed away or ignored.  If I sent an article to a magazine, it was ignored.  Or the magazine folded!  If I wrote a book, and sent it out to others to read, the response was,  "mmmhmmm, thank you for sending this....mmmmhmmmm....."   Kind of dis-heartening.  Rejection came from all around, real or imagined.

The inner voice of Spirit seemed to have other plans.  It said:  go deep.  Find out WHO you are.  Find things out.  Later, you'll be able to write.  Later, you'll be able to share.  For now, your quest is to discover the WHO AM I.

A twenty year spiritual journey unfolded.  About fifteen months ago, I met the Emptiness inside.  It was the opposite of popularity.  It was pure emptiness.  And in meeting that emptiness, the World itself re-introduced itself. 

That probably doesn't make any sense.  But what's interesting is that I have finally met the more popular part of myself.  Through blogging.  Through writing. Through on-line relationships.  And it's been fun.  And challenging.  Happy and sad.  Positive and negative.  The whole thing.

And I've discovered it's not something to be desired.  Popularity, unpopularity, who cares?  The Ego might think one is the ideal state.  But it's not. 

What is "ideal" is the realization that we're all One.  The popular and unpopular.  The yearning and the pushing away.  We all want the same thing.  We want to be appreciated.  To be loved.  To realize the love that we are, before we even need to do anything.  Each of us is equal.  Each of us is the same in our incredible differences.   We're mirrors of the Possible, that's all.

Thank you all, for being mirrors of the Possible for me.  And when I use the word "I"...it's not always about Kathy.  She's just a tiny piece.  The "I" is always about all of us and it changes every instant, popular or unpopular, shining or dull, strong or weak. 

Blessings to and for all the parts. 

It's almost time for book club.  One hour from now.  Whew.  The house is...if not spotless, at least presentable, assuming no one peeks behind the shower curtain or looks out the windows. 

Some people smoke or drink to relax.  I think I blog.  And this is one of those babble-off-the-top of your head blogs, so leave now if you're hoping for anything serious.  I was really hoping to write something serious.  At least two serious topics presented themselves during the past week.  Topics which touched the very marrow of existence.  Alas.  Who even remembers what they were?  Not me.

I love this Gaia-space because my serious spiritual side has a place to speak up.  On wordpress the sillier nature-oriented photographer can babble.  On Facebook the internal one-liner can have her say.  Wow, all the different selves can have their own forums!  I love this life.

We've read and will supposedly discuss "The Good Earth" by Pearl S. Buck.  Fortunately or unfortunately (depending on who you ask) we spend about 15% of our book club actually hinting around the subject of books and the other 85% of the time socializing, eating and laughing.  Sometimes laughing hysterically.  (A literary-minded friend had to drop out because she longed for more substance.)

I am hoping my vegetarian lasagna turns out.  Really hoping.  Because it was an experiment, a never-before-tried recipe which, everyone knows, you shouldn't make the first time for company.  However, most of the book club members think we're the weirdest eaters on the planet anyway, so I suppose it doesn't matter how it ends up.  Barry was talking to a book club friend in town and another person.  The friend turned to the newcomer and said, "Do you know WHAT they eat?  Do you know how they eat?  We just tell Kathy, just let us eat it and tell us what's in it afterward."

I suppose she's carrying on like that because I made them something with seaweed last year and then kind of gloated, "Guess what you guys just ate? Seaweed!" 

The lasagna has only one half cup of low-fat mozzerella cheese.  I swear.  It's chock-filled with (let me go find the recipe) low-fat bechamel sauce, leeks, carrots, brocoli, tomatos, basil and other cool stuff.  The only thing that has me worried is the NOTE in the left-hand column of Moosewood Restaurant's Low-Fat Favorites.  It swears you don't have to cook the lasagna noodles.  Just put 'em in there.  I've always cooked noodles before so this feels like wildest craziest out-of-the-box thing to do!  Please, God, don't make 'em crunchy.  Please God, that's the prayer of the hour.

Oh well, it's a potluck.  And I baked a loaf of bread for the folks.  If they don't bring their own food, they can eat good whole grain bread and I'll make them discuss the Good Earth for 50% of the time and no hysterical laughing before the book is discussed.  Seriously.  This literature is serious business.

We have wine for the drinkers (although that causes no end of challenges too because half the people like sweet wine and the remainder like dry) and then there's some homemade ice tea mixture for the non-drinkers and drivers.  Oh, and there's hot tea and coffee for those who prefer that. 

We're a group of women who never may have discovered common ground without book club.  There's the readers who like quick mysteries and best-sellers.  There's those of us who like deeper stuff.  (Guess what category I'm in?)  Then there's those who waver on the fence, testing the waters.  There's local folks who have never set foot out of the Upper Peninsula.  And there's world-travelers.  There were three family members from California who raved about my food, all but one who has left the area.  I begged them to stay.  Please!  Who else will eat my food?  But they laughed and left book club anyway.

OK, time to peek in at the lasagna.  No, I don't think I'll lift the aluminum foil until it says.  Maybe it's doing steaming magic inside the foil and the noodles WILL be soft and lovely. 

Hoping so anyway!  Here's to the Good Earth!  Here's to Book Club!  And here's to all of you...wish you could come over tonight.  You'd have to be someone who likes to laugh, though.  :)

oh, Earth.  oh, Beautiful Creature spinning in the galaxies, how I want to see you as a living being, as something so alive that we talk together and make plans together and share blessings and tragedies and daily chit-chat.

oh, Earth.  On one level, we're One.  You know we're One probably more than I know we're One.  I have an intellectual idea that we're One, and probably some feelings too, but I don't think I truly get it down to the pores, down to the cells, down to the basic simple level.

If we understood You at this level we'd take you into account with every decision.  If you were our lover, or our parent, or our child we'd consult you.  We wouldn't drive to town so randomly, fly across the country so wantonly, stuff excesses in our hungry mouths.  We wouldn't fill up our gas tanks so thoughtlessly, wouldn't indulge so fruitlessly, wouldn't follow our whims and flimsy desires so heartlessly, thinking we were spinning toward God or Awareness or who-knows-what.

We'd make every action count.  We'd decide based on a partnership.  You would be ALIVE to us.  We'd quiver before deciding, wanting to please you, wanting to create a partnership. 

I went to the river today, the wild and cresting river filled to the brim with melting snow-water.  The river of Earth spilled herself on the banks and poured herself in me.  Did I realize our Oneness?  Only the edges of it.  Only the edges of it. 

With what do we realize our Oneness so deeply that we're changed to the core?  I hear words, words, everywhere which declare Oneness and yet actions so often declare personal desire.  And personal desire so often claims authority, thrusting the universe as a living thing to the side.

What ways do I see the universe as a living thing?  Are there ways which aren't blossoming forth in consciousness yet?  Are there ways?  I do see her as partner, as an Other, as a representative of Self come forth into the mirrored-world in which we walk.  She's a giver.  She gives nourishment, love, life, beauty.  She is Ourself staring in the pond of Possibility. 

I long to truly surrender to her so there's no separation, no background upon which we play out our lives, no inanimate background. 

This prayer on Earth Day:  May we realize your life beyond our intellectual ideals.  May we surrender to every flower, every tree, every bird song, every wave lapping on the shore of our uncertainty.  May our hearts fill with kindness.  May the kindness blossom as flowers in the damp spring soil.