Soul Stirring of Winter

Beauty Abundant

The geography of your destiny is always clearer to the eye of your soul than to the intentions and the needs of your surface mind. John O’Donohue (Purity of Heart is to Will One Thing in Eternal Echoes: Exploring Our Hunger to Belong)

As winter weather continues to settle in and we move closer to the Winter Solstice, I find myself more pulled within. Much of what I read stirs something in this soul. I feel a choice point coming, a gestation of something that as of now has no words, no form, no clarity. Certainly, no certainty. I wonder how ‘it’ will emerge or even whether ‘it’ is an ‘it’ at all.

Muse gently reminds me to embrace the stirring and all that isn’t known, then guides me back to an experience that seems to point toward some shift on the horizon.

As I was putting away an abundance of leftovers a few days after my Thanksgiving feast with friends, I listened to Robin Wall Kimmerer reading her essay The Serviceberry: An Economy of Abundance in an Emergence Magazine podcast (find it here -- https://emergencemagazine.org/podcast/). She was speaking a topic near and dear to this heart while picking serviceberries: an economy based not on scarcity as it is now but on abundance, reciprocity, flow, a gift economy.

I listened, aware of the irony, the juxtaposition throughout: I’m packing and storing as I listen to a wise woman’s words about giving, sharing, and flow. Beyond the leftovers, I’m reminded of the abundance of pinon nuts that I harvested in the woods. Except for those shelled by a friend and enjoyed with our Thanksgiving feast, they sit on the pantry shelf waiting…

Abundance, flow, reciprocity, using, gifting … These ideas are not new. They resonate deep within as the truth of who we are, who I am. They point to possibilities some of which are emerging worldwide.

This, I think, is foundational to a level of consciousness needed to grapple with the issues of our time. Perhaps a part of Einstein’s admonition that we cannot solve our problems with the same thinking that created them.

Then I wonder ‘what needs to shift in my thinking, my being, and my habits of doing?’ so that I more fully align with what I say I believe? What habits of choice do I hold and follow that are of the systems of scarcity? As I pose these questions to self, I do so in hopes that only remnants remail. Yet I know our systems have imbedded their ways, their thinking in us, in me to keep the lie of scarcity alive: ‘there isn’t enough, hang on to what you have’.

And so, I pack and store, having on some level bought into the lie of scarcity. Yet I hold a knowing that this is one of the ways of the past that is in hospice, moving toward laying to rest so that new ways can emerge, be nurtured. How that will look in this life I’ve created and in the world beyond is ours to determine, ours to co-create. May we do so in harmony with one another and with dear Gaia, Mother Nature, our home.

Mossy Love in the Woods Out Back

Magic and The Beauty of Life

Baby Pinecone

Watch with glittering eyes the whole world around you, because the greatest secrets are always hidden in the most unlikely places. Those who don’t believe in magic will never find it. Roald Dahl

Yesterday morning I picked up a book that’s been on a nearby shelf for several years. It’s one of many that I’ve started over the years then set aside, pulled away by a shinier red ball or something that seemed at the time a more interesting or urgent trail. There wasn’t time to read in that moment, so I set it aside resolving to read later in the day.

When we returned from a lovely post-dinner walk, Zadie Byrd resisted coming inside. It was a beautiful evening, Sun moving through clouds on its journey to the western horizon, calm and quiet. Rather than insisting that she come in so I could read as planned, I grabbed the book and joined her outside. Ahh, the beauty of a Rocky Mountain evening.

Zadie explored the grounds where her long lead will allow, then pawed some earth and settled in. I settled into a waiting chair, taking a breath, scanning the landscape, and absorbing the serene beauty. A moment of gratitude for Zadie’s ‘suggestion’.

When I opened the book, I was greeted by the above quote. I read just a bit more, then read the quote again. Hmm… I closed the book, wanting to observe my surroundings with luminous eyes, ears, and all my senses. I thought of my desire to be a more keen observer of Nature, to hear and understand her messages. That being the topic of the book, I sensed I was receiving a new lesson, one that put my attention not on words on a page, but on Nature herself. I wondered if Muse was standing by.

I picked up a baby pinecone laying on the ground by my feet, probably knocked out of the tree in Monday’s hailstorm. It smelled of fresh sap and was gentle to my touch. I sensed that I was part of it and it a part of me. We were at once different AND of the same Source.

I felt deep gratitude as I wondered ‘who is that flitting in the pine?’. I took the challenge of seeing clearly in the fading light to discover western wood pewee, white breasted nuthatch, and violet green swallow. I ignored the gnat or small fly buzzing in my ear, to watch Sun’s last rays highlight the twists and turns of branches in an old pine that never fail to have me wonder ‘how/why do they do that?’

I sat, heart and whole being filled with gratitude for this place, this time, this planet, life. This gratitude grounds me in what is real beyond the world’s sound bites, stresses, and strains; its horrors and heartaches; its violence and injustice.

As the light faded, I realized how quiet this dusk is. I thought about an unidentified (so far) voice in the woods that I frequently hear summer evenings. As the thought exits, that voice – a deep, one note sound – enters. I chuckle and rise to move slowing in the voice’s direction. Maybe this day, I will see ‘it’. Not to be. ‘It’ is silent.

After a bit, I roust Zadie and we come inside to prepare for our night’s rest. Closing a back window, I see Moon in her fullness rising over the mountains and through the trees. Having spent time with Sun as she fell in the west, I’m drawn out back to be with Moon. Zadie declines to join me.

Moon mesmerizes as she shines through the trees, like Sun highlighting twists and turns in the pine branches. The unknown voice returns, speaks, moves, speak again, moves, speaks, moves … I sit in awe and deep gratitude for the magic of witnessing and participating in this life.

Muse smiles as I write this, knowing that my understanding and conviction of gratitude as a doorway to magic and peace has deepened overnight. Sun has just risen over the mountains and her rays into the woods. Cycles. Magic. Life.

As I prepare this post, I wonder about the symbolism of gnat and I ask ‘Dr. Google’. My quick search reveals such meanings as perseverance, transformation, change, and new perspectives. Sounds like more evidence of magic to me!

Moonrise in the Pines

Senses of the Heart

Cottonwood Creek - My Teacher this Week

Listen with ears of the heart. See with eyes of the Heart. Pam Gregory

As I settle in to write this morning the day is barely dawning. Earlier I stepped out to see the Moon in her fullness as she moved to the western horizon. The stunning lineup of planets and the all the stars were giving way to dawn’s light. In the cool crispness I observed the clear sky, absent of smoke and haze present in recent days.

As I breathe in the fresh, cool air – deep and slow - I pull the afghan knitted decades ago by my grandmother over my legs and feet and invite Muse in.

Thinking of Gran reminds that I’ve experienced promptings this week to reflect on family. I, my generation, is the last of this branch of the family since I and my now deceased cousins each for different reasons chose not to bear children.

I don’t regret my choice, having been a partner in raising my stepson, now with a family of his own and continuing to hold him close to my heart despite the miles and life priorities that limit frequent contact. I choose not to create obligation or guilt, but to allow the relationship to flow where it flows. As Muse reminds me that a relationship based on obligation is no relationship at all, I realize that it is a decision that I’ve made with my heart, asking my head to follow heart’s lead in defying a culture that holds a particular definition of how ‘family’ should look.

These days I embrace Nature as my family of choice, the ‘family’ that I love and learn from daily. This is the ‘family’ I long to be in right relationship with. Muse prompts a wondering: is it possible to be in right relationship with another human while our relationship with Nature is askew?

In the little corner of the globe that I occupy and call home I want to right my relationship with Mother Earth and ALL of her progeny. This week She reminded me in Her gentle way that a part of right relationship requires asking permission.

For the past couple weeks, I’ve been gathering water from nearby Cottonwood Creek as a part of the experimental nourishing two pinon pines in the woods out back. Mother and Grandmother Pinon each agreed when I asked if they would be willing to receive. So, I began the process: bringing in water from the creek, mixing an Ormus formula, activating with frequency 528Hz tones, pouring around the tree. I’ve felt a deep connection to each tree as I engaged.

One morning this week at the creek as I busily filled a bucket and thanked the water, I realized that I’d never asked for permission to do so. It was as if the creek was speaking to my heart. The reminder brought a wave of guilt and sadness for my thoughtlessness, yet I knew that I was hearing through the ears of my heart.

I asked for the creek and the water’s forgiveness and for permission to continue. In hindsight I see that those words were more from my head than my heart as I quickly completed my bucket filling task and brought the water home.

I’ve carried this moment with me as I’ve observed with deep gratitude all the ways that Mother Earth and Nature support me with unquestioning, unconditional love. My heart sees the many ways that I take that love for granted, assuming that I have permission to walk on the earth wherever and whenever I choose and to use the resources She provides unconsciously and at will.

These are habits of lifetime and culture that I in this chapter of life I aim to shift by engaging the senses of my heart more fully from moment to moment and day to day.

I cannot know how my life would have unfolded if I’d learned early on to listen to Mother Earth in this way. As I feel deep gratitude that I am learning now, I wonder how our culture might be had we followed this wisdom of the ancients – listening to and working in cooperation with Nature. I aspire to do my part to give our progeny the gift of knowing. Perhaps this is a pivot we each might attend to in our own unique way.

Cones Birthing on the Grandmother Tree

Pivot from Complaint to Curiosity

Dust Storm on the Plains

Whether the weather be fine, or whether the weather be not,
Whether the weather be cold, or whether the weather be hot,
We'll weather the weather, whatever the weather,
Whether we like it or not. Anonymous (of British origin)

 A complaining tongue reveals an ungrateful heart. … The pessimist complains about the wind. The optimist expects it to change. And the realist adjusts the sails. William Arthur Ward

 The important thing is not to stop questioning. Curiosity has its own reason for existing. Albert Einstein

 Other than when sailing in Galveston Bay decades ago, the perceptible movement of air at rather high speeds has never been a favored weather event. Years later living on the high plains among west Texas cotton fields and now here in the mountains above the drought-stricken San Luis Valley, I grapple with how I might make peace with the 20-30MPH winds gusting to 45-50MPH and the dust that is stirred up as these winds blow.

Muse, tapping on my shoulder, suggests this just could be an opportunity to listen more deeply to Nature and to hear her voice. I do wonder what the intense wind is offering. What is the bigger picture, macro, to my experiencing this wind here in my little micro space in the woods? My attention shifts from the default of complaint to my deep curiosity about our planet. What IS this wind saying?

How do I listen to this voice of the Earth, Gaia, home? For I sense that she wants our attention … umm MY attention. Is the intense wind in some way a reflection of the chaos we are embroiled in as humanity? Is she asking that I/we look in the mirror at our habits, our choices and how they are connected to weather extremes? Is she suggesting that we haven’t heard her whispers in gentle breezes, so now she must increase her volume?

 Are we throwing complaints at her not intending harm yet causing harm because we don’t truly understand our part in creating the chaos all of Nature is reflecting?

 What would it take to be as grateful for the wind today as I was seven years ago when Nature delivered a much needed 15-inch dump of spring snow? What is the wind moving that can’t move on its own? What if this wind is what’s needed to move seeds to a new home? Or, to keep pesky mosquitos at bay? Would there be stunningly beautiful sand dunes to enjoy in the nearby Great Sand Dunes National Park if wind had not played its role in the symphony that created that beauty? Heck, would there even be a park at all? And what about the growing use of wind as a source of renewable power?

I discover gratitude is nourishment for curiosity, much healthier than complaint. What if Nature truly is reflecting our human behaviors? Everything IS connected, you know! What if Nature’s extremes are inviting us to listen – to develop the willingness and capacity to truly hear one another? What if our responding to Her invitation is key not just to the human family of disparate beings with varied gifts and divergent opinions getting along, but also to working in greater cooperation with Gaia, our Mother, our home?

What might be possible for our world if we eliminated complaints from our menu of habits? Where might curiosity lead us if we dare to ask bold questions and let our imaginations wonder? What does Nature have to say? Are we listening? Am I?  

Mother’s Day Snow 2015

Present In the Flow of Life

The Labyrinth in the Woods Out Back Awaits …

Scattered thoughts like a herd stampeding go nowhere, fast.

The Eyes of the Future are looking back at us and they are praying for us to see beyond our own time.  Terry Tempest Williams, Red: Passion and Patience in the Desert

Muse wasn’t successful getting my attention in the early morning quiet that is typically ‘our’ time. I’d been thinking about regeneration and, wanting that to be this week’s focus, decided to do more reading online. Now, after our morning walk and breaking fast, I find myself challenged to engage Muse. Reminded I am of a ditty penned in a workshop 33 years ago - Scattered thoughts like a herd stampeding go nowhere, fast - for this morning finds my thoughts scattered from the macro of mostly discouraging world events and exciting possibilities of designing life in alignment with regenerative principles to the micro of life’s daily details. Today those ‘details’ are focused on preparing for Zadie Byrd’s second eye surgery tomorrow.

Somewhere between the two – yet very present this day – is a deep sadness that runs from micro to macro, from me and my cells to Mother Earth, Nature and ALL her beings. I choose not to let it be the driver of this (and hopefully any) day while recognizing that on another day grief and sadness may need to be tended.

Writing this thought, I’m reminded of a story shared by author, activist Terry Tempest Williams in a recent talk. In conversation with three rather powerful men (think Presidential cabinet types) she asked where their grief lived. Two responded sincerely about their deep feelings of concern. The third replied that he wanted to ‘keep the conversation positive’ and said to Terry, “You are married to sorrow.” She replied, “No. I choose not to look away.”

Her response highlights for me one of the strengths of the Feminine: choosing not to deny, to look away from the degradation of Nature, of Mother Earth, of one another; yet not getting entangled in the muck. A tricky and delicate dance this is, a dance that calls forth a key element of Divine Feminine energy, aka ‘Love’: seeking, finding, as well as creating new paths forward individually and collectively. Love acknowledges. Love questions. Love collaborates. Love co-creates. Love acts. This love is not gender specific, found only in the female form, etc. The love of the Divine Feminine simply IS.

Muse chuckles noting that these thoughts don’t seem ‘scattered’ at all, and I’m aware that my earlier sadness has lifted. Zadie Byrd, back in her ‘cone of courage’, sleeps nearby, her way of preparing for tomorrow. The wind has calmed and the labyrinth in the woods out back awaits my presence.

This 454th (yes, I’m counting) post has found its way to the page, the page of my journal and the pages of my life. Regeneration in action on a micro scale! Engaging Muse is a journey into the unknown, taking the first step, writing that first word, and discovering where the flow will lead. Present to the present while holding curiosity and wonder about what we can create for the time beyond.

Sleeping is the Best …

Pivot to Harmony - Earth Day, Every Day

Moonrise Over the Sangres

Our role with nature is to work in harmony with it to bring its elements to the highest degree of their manifestation. Gregge Tiffen

 … a shared love of Nature was the most political act of all. Terry Tempest Williams (Refuge)

 Two years ago, on the 50th Earth Day, I pivoted my weekly blog from ‘The Zone’ to ‘The Pivot’ because we need new stories, new ways of being to navigate our world toward justice. Not just justice for we humans, but justice for ALL beings, especially our home, Mother Earth. One day is not enough to care for Mother Earth, our home.

 One day is not enough to care. One day is not enough to bring justice. Earth-care like self-care requires our attention and awareness, our presence, 24/7. Or, as author Terry Tempest Williams says, Earth-care IS self-care.

 As I’ve reflected on this 52nd Earth Day and listened to many women thought leaders share reflections and actions from their hearts about the state of our world, our Earth, ourselves, the word harmony rises to surface once again as it has in past Earth Day posts.  Harmony within. Harmony with one another. Harmony with Nature. Harmony with Mother Earth. [Check out Women Working for the Earth Summit for replays. Or KGNU Boulder’s Connections interview on Earth Day.]

 I’m not suggesting that we should always agree or forego our beliefs for the sake of harmony. Indeed, harmony requires that we speak our voice. To follow this course would compromise our harmony within.  I’m not suggesting that we think only positive thoughts or simply look away from that which triggers our anger, our angst, our grief at what is lost and what we are losing daily. That would undermine our integrity.

 Muse suggests that we/I need to engage more deeply with all of life in harmonious ways. The Universe is designed in harmony and our dominion with the Earth is to maintain and restore that harmony. With every thought, every word, every deed we are contributing to harmony that supports Nature and the Earth or we are contributing to disharmony, putting Mother Earth in the position of taking drastic action to rebalance. 

Our thoughts matter. Our words matter. How we maintain our bodies, our homes and care for our pets and our plants matter.  Even how we sleep matters.  Every thought I have and every word I speak never dies. My thoughts and yours contribute to mass consciousness moment by moment, day to day. The planet responds to that consciousness. That is her design.  

 Harmony matters. Let us make each and every day Mother Earth Day by depositing thoughts of harmony into the bank of the collective consciousness. Let us face the challenges of injustice with love and with courage rather than fear and rancor. Let us question our daily choices with curiosity and care rather than rigid fundamentalism of any flavor.

 May I experience and live harmony within. May I live in harmony with others, especially those with whom I disagree. May my choices moment to moment reflect Harmony with Nature and Harmony with Mother Earth. This is my prayer for self and humanity.

Full Moon over the Woods Out Back

From the Center of Self

Words of wisdom from a favorite author!

When we start at the center of ourselves, we discover something worthwhile extending toward the periphery of the circle. We find again some of the joy in the now, some of the peace in the here, some of the love in me and thee which go to make up the kingdom of heaven on earth. Anne Morrow Lindbergh (Gift From the Sea)

The Earth thinks in circles. She dreams in spirals and nautilus shell revolutions. She tells her stories across eons. Her epics are epochs. Rivera Sun (Winds of Change – book 3 in the Dandelion trilogy – www.riverasun.com).

Circling and spiraling amidst a number of atypical (for blog day) activities I’m finally settling in with Muse to discover what wants to emerge in this week’s Pivot.

As winds of change blow seemingly around the globe, here in the Sangre de Cristo mountains of southern Colorado, strong winds are blowing bringing dust, red flag/fire weather watch warnings, and wintry temperatures. Zadie Byrd and I are challenged to get out for our walks and keep them short, focused on her ‘business’ and our safety.

It’s the kind of intense wind that rips shingles from roofs, breaks tree limbs and trunks, and picks up all manner of unanchored debris. Having once been grazed by the outer branches of a falling tree that snapped as a sudden wind came up in the woods, I’m mindful and cautious. I sense something is being cleared. Blown away to make way for the new within me and in the world. That’s what winds of change do.

The change I sense within runs deep. A deepening of care – for self, for my canine companion, for friends, and for this community that is my home. The deepening care seems to call forth new strength, resilience, and trust. A felt sense that life is unfolding as it must for the evolution of consciousness, mine individually and ours collectively as a human family that is part of the family of all Beings on the planetary Being herself: Gaia, Great Mother Earth.

In conversation with a friend and spiritual mentor a few days back, I was sharing this deepened sense of trust and greater discernment. “With trust comes greater capacity to love and less tendency/need to judge,” she mused. As I allow that to settle in deep, I feel I’ve made a leap in my being.

In some way I sense that the dog attack has guided me to the center of myself that Lindbergh speaks of. I wonder whether I needed such a dramatic call and quickly set that query aside, grateful that for the support and the rapid rate of our healing and recovery. I find joy in caring for Zadie Byrd and for me as well as in finding ways to thank the small army of friends who blessed us with an abundance of love and care. I find peace as I come to terms with the event and discover that I harbor no anger. Rather I feel compassion for the canine that attacked and for its human. I feel love for those who supported me, creating community, our own version of heaven on earth.

Although I don’t have a nautilus shell to put to my ear to hear the earth, I listen to the wind, to the birds, to the trees. I converse with Zadie Byrd, knowing all of nature has stories to tell and wisdom to share as we navigate the winds of change. May I listen well from the center of my Being to the center of the Being that is Mother Earth.

Mother Earth callling … Am I listening?

Two Bucks and a Raven

A Buck and the Bell

What does Nature say?

A few days back in the early morning the temperature at dawn was only a couple degrees colder than the normal high temperature for that day. As I opened my journal and picked up the pen this was the stream of words that came. “Mild morning – 30 degrees, house chilly, no fire last night – VERY unusual. Fire going now – warming and lovely.”

“I feel Nature’s confusion … ‘tis the season of winter,

And no snow on the ground

Chilly not COLD

Other than an occasional blast (for a day or so)

Then warming with low temps as high as the normal high and

High temps reaching towards records.

My heart feels the inward pull

Of the season – ‘Snuggle in, Rest, Read, Contemplate.

The warmth and sun pull me out.

Like a see-saw, tug-of-war on the playground of Life. DoBeDoBeDoBeDo…

I don’t know how to be in these woods in this season without snow,

The Earth without her white blanket. Is She patiently confused?

What might She know that I do not yet ‘hear’, my untrained senses trying to make sense of the season that doesn’t match my mountain experience?

But is more like the experience from another place, another time this life,

Sea level in Houston or the Llano Estacado in Lubbock – warmer winters.

I break my writing flow to tend the fire. The beauty and warmth of the slow burning logs and multicolored flames draw me in and

I feel a wave of warmth, of depth, of gratitude for all that makes possible my comfort.

Logs added with a full heart, I notice the sky – brilliant orange, red, pink on the horizon and I step outside to the distant sound of Raven – ‘the Magic is Love’ –

Yes, Raven, I remember . These words of your ‘Caw’

Will not be forgot. And I will listen as you speak for other wisdom you may impart.

Flowing in the morning stream is a joy that settles and soothes

Offering a way of Being in the Doing of this day.

I move with gratitude,

Still curious about the confusion that sits in me …

What does Nature say?”

When one asks a question it’s polite to listen to/for the answer. Raven brought this home to me on our morning walk shortly after this journal entry and its ending question: What does Nature say? Raven was raucous, louder than usual and flying about in the treetops and near the ground seeming to want to be heard, not seen.

I noticed. And I didn’t take my observing deeper or connect it to the question I’d posed less than an hour before. Rather rude to ask and not listen. Later, when I finally made the connection, Raven seemed to be sounding a ‘caw’ to heed Nature, to listen with all my senses. Duh! Ask and it is given. But you must be aware and willing to receive. Sometimes it takes a brassy Raven’s ‘caw’ to open me up.

The following afternoon after a lovely walk with Zadie Byrd (who has her own ways of getting my attention and teaching), I headed into the woods out back to walk the labyrinth and commune with the pines. As I approached the labyrinth, a handsome four-point buck was in the outermost circuit grazing seeds fallen from the bird feeder above. I stopped. He looked up and after a few moments looking may way, turned his eyes and his muzzle to the ground, apparently finding the seed more interesting and nourishing than me.

After a few more moments I slowly eased closer, step by step, present to his gentleness and grace. Aware that he was aware of my presence, yet not threatened.  After a bit he began walking slowly toward me through the inner circuits of the labyrinth. My gaze focused on him, his on me; each of us seeming to say, ‘thank you for sharing … we are safe here.’ I let him know that I am listening, and I sense he was conveying a reminder of the importance of increasing my capacity to adapt. Deer thrive in part because of their capacity to adapt to changing conditions. And gentleness is a part of their way.

As if to confirm (or perhaps to see if I was continuing to listen) and to remind me that adapting and change require rest, he returned yesterday with a friend. Just before heading out for a walk, my eyes were drawn to the woods where two bucks were resting, heads up and observant, about 15 yards apart.

This winter the variety of birds in the woods and at my feeder is abundant, each carrying their messages in response to my query.

I’m listening. What does Nature say?

Resting with Awareness in the Woods Out Back

ALL We Need IS Love

Snow! On the Labyrinth Bell

All you need is love
All you need is love
All you need is love, love
Love is all you need … John Lennon - The Beatles (click here for a 3 minute ride down memory lane)

As I move beyond the hustle and bustle of what we call the ‘holiday season’, I’m present to the pleasure and satisfaction that came with choosing to engage in holiday activities with others more than I usually do. I’m grateful for the opportunities to gather and share with friends. And as this fifth day of the new calendar year dawns, I’m also present to a deep pull to go within, to withdraw, bear-like, into a state of torpor. To rest. To hear with clarity the whispers of my heart, a heart that is calling for trimming the sails and making course corrections to more fully align the activities and choices in life with that which I say I value.

The Muse muffles a chuckle, knowing this will necessitate investing more time in sitting quietly, resting, napping. It will require that I let go of trying to control the flow of life and that I build muscle to allow changes and projects to flow in their time, divine time, not my time. The Muse’s chuckle gives way to a gentle embrace, a reminder that Muse nudges and wisdom are available 24/7. Like Zadie Byrd, the Muse is oh so patient with my humanness.

Although I feel this pull to draw inward every winter, this year seems different. While much of our contemporary Western culture declares the ‘holiday season’ over when the new year is celebrated, other cultures – those more in tune with Nature and her cycles – dedicate this time to inner journeys, to rest, to envisioning what wants to come forward. They rest and gather within that which will be needed to burst forth in spring. They listen to the heart whispers and invite the heart to have its full voice.

 And that is what I’m easing into in the early minutes of this new year: investing more time in contemplation and consideration, being with the stars and all of Nature to discover what wants to unfold, to jettison that which no longer serves, and to gather what I need for the journey ahead.

While discovery, jettisoning, and gathering will require me to breakthrough more layers of my own habitual muscle memory and to develop stronger immunity to the pull of a culture that wants me to conform, the deep potency and possibility that I feel for humanity and our planet home, Mother Earth, in this year provide sustainable, renewable fuel for the journey.

Although this time finds our world chaotic, we need not be in chaos with it. My choices, indeed, our choices, minute by minute in the remaining 519,120 minutes (more or less) of 2022, hold the potential to contribute positively to the new that is unfolding as the old falls away.

In the quiet time and in the active time each day, I’m deepening trust in the voice of my heart to shine light on the path and to support me step by step in the uncharted waters ahead aiming to expand my capacity to BE the love I want to see in the world. For indeed, love is all we need.

New Years Snow on the Mountains

Matriots for Mother Earth

Morning Beauty in the Sangres

Once you acquire planetary loyalty, you are loyal to everybody. You are way out of line if you try being loyal to people before you are totally loyal to the planet.  Gregge Tiffen

It is not for him to pride himself who loveth his own country, but rather for him who loveth the whole world. The earth is but one country and mankind its citizens. Baha’u’llah

As I began writing, I was experiencing one of those blog mornings with many thoughts and several themes seeming to want my attention. The beauty of the mountains captivated me on our walk this crisp morning, hinting that nature and the planet would appreciate attention. I sense these mountains, trees, and the wildlife that abound here want my attention, my care. I sense that their kin right where you live want and need the same.

Perhaps their beauty and the sunshine in these woods was more than a hint. In this week following Earth Day I’ve noticed how easy it is to honor Gaia on the day we’ve proclaimed hers and then, like the day after Christmas, to forget. As I reflected a bit more, I recalled a post I wrote several years ago suggesting that we become ‘matriots for the planet’ [read it here]. I remember thinking that I was cleverly making up a word, then happily discovering that the online Urban Dictionary defined ‘matriot’ this way: A person who loves, supports, and defends the earth and its interests with devotion.  Of country, patriot. Of earth, matriot

Last week as I listened in via Zoom to the Global Freshwaters Summit, I was awed and inspired by the activism – public and private – addressing the wide range of issues in the watersheds of the Mississippi and Missouri rivers here in the U.S. I felt gratitude that the event, originally planned as a conference to be held in St. Louis Missouri, was virtual so that I could easily attend. And, I had a sense that the planet was grateful as well that the 400 people from around the globe who participated were doing so with a minimal carbon footprint.

At the same time, I get that there is another side to this story: revenue, jobs, etc. lost in the travel and hospitality industries; people suffering as a result. We need innovative, integral ideas and creations to bridge such divides. That, for me, is the ‘stuff’ of matriotism. We need to question EVERYthing as well as ourselves.

In the rush to return to our pre-pandemic ‘normal’ will we simply ignore the impact of our ways of life on our planetary home? Or will we take account of how our systems and the choices we make reflect what nature has shown us, particularly over this past year? Author, activist, and friend Rivera Sun shared a documentary that premiered on Earth day – The Year Earth Changed – detailing how nature has responded to our human ‘pause’. Having watched the trailer, (click here to watch) the film is at the top of my ‘must watch’ list. I want to more deeply understand my/our impact on the planetary being upon which my/our life depends. I take a moment to distinguish ‘life’ and ‘lifestyle’, wondering what lifestyle changes I/we can make to demonstrate matriotism: loving, supporting, and defending the earth and its interests with devotion?

Rather than ‘returning to normal’, I wonder how we might pivot to integrate greater consideration for the planet in making decisions?  Perhaps before deciding to engage in business travel for meeting with or speaking to others at a conference, we matriots will ask and evaluate the cost to the planet of a pending decision. Perhaps we’ll learn to better compensate Gaia for her life giving support, offsetting the costs to her well-being of our choices.

I’m not advocating that we stay totally ensconced in our homes and our local communities. Indeed (full disclosure), this week I’m making a day trip to town about 80 miles away to celebrate a friend’s birthday and to pick up some auto parts and supplies that I can’t get locally. I recognize that we need each other. We need play. We need connection. At the same time, we need to recognize and integrate the planetary costs of meeting those needs into our consciousness more consistently and powerfully.

Valley of Contrasts