thoughts on our collective evolution

Humankind as a whole is in a huge mess right now.

We’re out of step with the place we live.

We need to make major changes in the way we do business. We’ve heard, even scientifically proven now, that global warming is real and human influenced, yet why isn’t our behavior changing in the face of these necessary shifts?

Think of human kind like a great organism. It’s impersonal; it moves around based on the mass of its thoughts. In this way it’s like a well run riverbed. The mass of human thoughts dictate the direction of the rut that is formed. It’s impersonal. This is what we call the mainstream and in the past, it has taken about 30-40 years to incorporate the leading edge. An organism this big takes time to change its course- imagine rerouting the mighty Colorado river, for example- it would take a lot of energy to shift the inertia.

Yet all of the signs point to _We must change if there is going to be the continuance of human life on this planet_. We are not living in step with our environment and we may be thrown off the back of momma earth like so many fleas on a shrugging gorilla.

A lot of this has to do with our current religious paradigms which perceive humankind as “something other than or above the earth”- when in reality we are highly evolved self reflective consciousnesses of the earth itself. We are the earth- thinking in our human way. No separation there- think of human beings as the earth arms thinking and feeling and observing, reflecting on what is. Our body a hologram of what is around us (patterns of streams in our blood).

Media, the Internet, books, television all play a part in deciding where that collective consciousness goes. Yet there’s a small voice inside of us which leads us toward evolution. It’s the voice of the intuition, the instinct, perhaps the “voice of god or goddess” to some. This voice and our emotional feedback loops (pain, happiness, fulfillment, alignment) all lead us forward.

Entheogens (literally within-god; plant medicines like psychedelic cacti, leaves, roots and fungi) have been an extraordinarily important part of my path now, as well as being and sleeping outside. Any contact with nature is good. Eating nature in the form of the entheogen and taking its consciousness on for a time is a very fast and efficient path toward evolution. These open doors and can perhaps expedite or illuminate our evolving paths. But be careful, you may be pushed to start exceedingly more and more thinking for yourself after these experiences. It may not be as easy to fit into the mainstream after these awakenings. This can feel dangerous and perhaps it is, to the status quo, external and propped up within our internalized paradigms.

While culture, the collective mind would have you be stuck in stasis, in the flow of survival and the current “way things are”- its incredibly important that you listen to your own voice stream now. That’s how we shift and evolve.

The outliers must lead. They must use the media sources and Internet especially so that many people can catch wind of the hints of evolution. In this way, perhaps the main stream can shift in 10-20 years instead of taking the 30-40 it took before. If it is evolution, people will feel a resonance. The right people are looking for these words for it is our biological and holistically encrypted imperative to evolve, to take part in the evolvement of our species.

Advertisements

bats at dusk

bats at dusk, rio grande

bats at dusk, rio grande

The bats at dusk glide and dip
As if drunk
Yet, actually, are guided by infinitesimal
Sensors, down to a hairline fracture, on their journey to what they seek

If we didn’t know we may think bats were lost, inebriated, or, worse, incapacitated
And unable to fend for themselves
(though they go on making bat families)

Perhaps we should rethink the term “batty”
Wild kook? Or incredibly honed, following some inner radar we can’t detect?

Open the gates of perception
Allow what is “different” or “other than”
It may just be that he or she
Is simply attuned to something
You can’t see

Full Super Moon Spiritual Revelations

The spirit world is not separate from “our world”, the world we perceive with our eyes and experience with our senses, think about with our minds and feel with our hearts. The spirit world is not some great hereafter. The spirit world is now, coexisting with our present world.

The energy of the full super moon has been revelatory, releasing, ramping. I feel as if lifetimes are able to be released. Fogginess has been pierced with insight. Manifestations feel strong, as if the energy of the full moon is supporting them in their nascent state toward fulfillment. 

One thing especially “on me” this full moon is the presence of the unseen realms. For years now I’ve been experiencing this more often. Tonight I realized that it is sufficiently a part of my “everyday” reality. Spirituality isn’t something that is “sometimes” a part of my reality or allocated to certain places or times. It is part & parcel of my perception, as real as what is seen. Perhaps even more real?

I see the spiritual realm as informing this one. It is not a place to escape to, but a place to learn from, to receive teachings & to share. It brings a wider perspective & vision. It teaches me that there is no precious hereafter to wait for, to yearn for. It teaches me to embody this hereafter now. To bring a little more heaven into earth. This is essentially what spirituality means to me in connecting with things unseen. 

healing with the hank drum

Do you play an instrument? Is there a musical instrument whose sound you find particularly pleasing? Tell us a story about your experience or relationship with an instrument of your choice. from here.

 

playing the "hank drum" at an ecovillage

playing the “hank drum” at an ecovillage circa 2012

This is a story about a sweet little blue propane tank that was made into a “hank drum” (fashioned after the “hang drum”). Little Wren biked and biked and biked up the west coast. You see, she was searching for a new place, a new place to reside, to be. Before she’d left for her journey, she had connection with an ecovillage that held promise of what she was looking for. As she was in communication with one elder who lived there the room turned foggy/fuzzy, as if entering a different realm; she felt her heart open and knew the place must be special. She treasured it as a possibility in the back of her mind as she cycled & rhythm’d her way up hills and on flat land, all beside the ocean, along that coastline trek.

When she got there it was indeed a magical place full of heart-opening and deeper unfolding lessons. There she also met a special sprite that she did choose to spend some more days with (and is still in cahoots with to this day). A magical place it did turn out to be.

And especially because she loved to play the instruments which laid about everywhere… and sing! 

One night in particular sticks out as a big one, a big ole memory. It was full moon & things were getting sticky at the village. The relationship honeymoons had worn off & there was some stuff that needing releasing, perfect for the full moon! So three of us, it was three of us then. A girl from Quebec & my fair sprite & I, collected some instruments, made a fire among a birch stand, calling in the sev7n directions, kali ma~ for destroying & building back up again, for dark goddesses (the ones we’re usually taught to be afraid of, but really just mean death & the beginning again), for ancestors & the power of our own great hearts.

The instrument was there for sure, you betcha. We banged that thing in turn, hearing its hollow reverberating melodious sound enter into the ether & sparkle up toward the tree limbs just like the flames of the fire. Our voices collected the stuff of our hearts, all of our feelings we was feeling that was hard to say became song and healed & released itself in this way.

That night I felt fully released as I howled up to the moon at the end. I felt like a fresh fine baby with no-mind, letting words bubble up & froth forth, spilling out, received by the darkness of the night & my friends’ ears. I was a howling wolf, in company, not judging anything that snarled up from my belly.

The power of music is great for expressin’ that which we may’ve been repressin. Unedited Jam Sessions.

Fresh belly baby birthed in jovial space sacred spaces created by us, graced by our own two feet. Stomping, swinging, standing, sittin’ round that great fire; we are lost & found & birthed anew from the flames & smoke amid our breaths, reverberation of vocal chord collects to form our healing vibrations. Sad, lost, lonely, angry, mean & frustrated finds voice around the fire -without judgment- and in this speaking is released. And what is left is what was always there, but was maybe covered-up by politeness or a holding-in. But we gotta let that stuff out otherwise it may eat us from the inside. 

Let it out in art or song. Let it out your whole life long. Let it out from morn til night – there’s no reason to hold it in tight. Let your mind stop judging it “right from wrong”… you’ve got feelings to feel ~ Let this be your song. And don’t judge it yourself. Nothing’s right or wrong, save we say it is. Clear our your heart; free your body from the not-expressin’ ~ Let yourself say what you’ve been repressin’

And in that dark night lit by bright moonlight, I found the release of so much time & energy built up. Wiggling free with nothing left to say; I was emptied. By art & song & friends, the space we created with the “hank drum” , our voices, a drum & tambourine, didgeridoo ~ music can be a portal for expression, if you let it. If we let it. It can. 

the Great Forgetting & Remembering

Once upon a time, the earth was a part of everything on it. Connection with the earth was acknowledged in song & dance, in ceremony & creed. The earth was known as The Great Mother From Whom All Things Flow Forth. Before building homes or starting new businesses, humans would have intense rituals embracing their need to have the protection & support of Mother Earth- for without her blessing, nothing would flourish.

Mother Earth had many songs in these times. There were songs for harvesting. Songs for planting. Songs for sadness & grief. Songs for love. Songs of patience & songs of courting. There were songs for birth & songs of death. And Mother Earth was included in all of these songs. There was always weeping & laughter in the land, but everyone knew they were held by Mother Earth and so, whether stupefied with sadness or howling with joy, they each found comfort in her strong embrace.

Young men, Old women, new babies, and everyone in between honored Mother Earth. It wasn’t anyone’s job to speak for her, to mention her or to honor her; Each and every member of the land, from birth until death, spoke with adoration and humility in her heart about The Great Mother From Whom All Things Flow Forth. For it was truly apparent that everything came from her hand and went back to her body. This was The Great Cycle and everyone knew themselves as inextricably a part of it.

There were the traders, the mothers, the wisdom carriers, the artisans, the troubadours, the homeless, the farmers, and many more facets of the society which played roles in its function and all of these thanked & honored Mother Earth. Not one, except maybe the farmers & the wisdom carriers, had a greater or more intimate esteem for Mother Earth, for each of them, from the day they were born until the day they died, drank from her streams, ate the bounty from her lap, felt her wind in their face, and climbed all over her body dancing, limping, crawling, singing, weeping, lauding. Each of them knew themselves inextricably a part of her Presence. And this is the way it always was.

This was the way it always was, until it was slowly this way no more. It’s hard to say when the shift happened, when the earth stopped being a part of everything on it. The deer and wind, streams and tree frogs, lightening and spiders certainly remained with the earth in it, but something started to happen to the minds of the humans. Slowly, over time & person by person to family by family to tribe by tribe, the humans started to count the things of the earth, which before they had seen as a gift to them, as their right. And they forgot to give thanks & honor Mother Earth. Slowly the men, because they were physically stronger & in fear of the women’s power & sexuality (which are often so closely intertwined), started to treat their wives & daughters, mothers & grandmothers as if it was their right to lord over them, as if the women were there to serve them. And they enforced this through violence, violation & punishment.

Slowly, slowly people started to forget that the earth was a part of them; that they were a part of the earth and that they were all equals. Tribes started to see themselves as inherently different; as if from a different place, as if different species. People no longer saw themselves as siblings of one human family, no matter the color of their skin. Instead, certain skin colors were prized over others & the dominating group would make the “others” subservient to them through laws, violation, violence and punishment. Slowly, slowly as the human mind forgot what the human body & heart had always known, humans no longer thought of one another as kin, but as enemies conquesting for resources.

What was once a gift to give thanks to Mother Earth for, like precious stones & jewels from the earth or conch shells, feathers, fine bone & wood pieces, became objects of a hoarding contest. Whoever can take the most of these things, becomes the most powerful and therefore has the ability to control the others. Slowly, slowly people forgot that it wasn’t always this way – the faint murmurings of the heart that not only was another way possible, but it was the way things used to be: a life of connection, abundance, togetherness, sharing & caring, gratitude and respect for one another & Mother Earth- this whisper of heart & body became nearly unbelievable. This murmur became something the dominating controllers scoffed at.

And so, though children born from the heart of the earth & from the stars came with these ancient secrets on their lips, the dominating controllers silenced & shamed them and kept telling the story of greed, one-upmanship, exploitation, and competition. They controlled the media sources where everyone got their information & told stories of fear & of war. Technology & machines took the place of human contact and while they sped up The Progress, thousands of species became extinct, waters & air became dangerously polluted, soil was poisoned & degraded, food started to be a specialized lab experiment and was no longer the thing of every backyard & wars over Mother Earth’s resources became commonplace. Children’s voices were not heard & a child was very fortunate if they were able to remember some of the whispers about being a Child of The Great Mother From Whom All Things Flow Forth. At night, masses of humans would feel great tremors of sadness from within & so alcohol, cigarettes, heroin, meth, abuse & violence were the strong distractors away from their feelings of sadness, which were really cries of remembrance from their heart, from their bones, which remembered that they were a part of Mother Earth.

For Mother Earth never stopped crying out to all that was a part of her, to everything that was on her, eating from her body & drinking from her veins the streams. She spoke through plants, through dreams, through children & to the human’s minds in the evenings as another sun set, as this was a time when the people, finished with their labor of the day, were particularly vulnerable for remembering as the veil was thin between the imagination & the heart.

And The Great Mother From Whom All Things Flow Forth has gotten through to many of her children, which is how I am writing this story at all. She has whispered to me through my blood & bones which are fueled by her body, by her vegetables & animal flesh, through her sporiforous mushrooms & her seaweed, and her water and berries– through all of these things which fuel my body, her body is able to speak to me through my cells. She reminds me that this is the way forward, in remembering what once was and still is, yet has been forgotten – in remembering this connection with our Mother Earth so much that one day I remember it into existing again.

 

a creative re-telling of our origin, kind-of inspired by daily post.

storms & the witches who love them

For the past few days I have awoken to the thickest, wettest air imaginable. Usually air is a thing that can go unnoticed – unless it is moving irregularly fast, if it smells, or if it is very, very wet.

The days have started out with wet & thick air. I walk outside & my hair surprisingly perks up with sweet little curls I’ve never had before falling out of my braid, cradling my face. My skin feels damp & sticky, even when I’m not moving around a lot. And I remember what droplets of sweat are like – behind the knees, between my breasts, in the inside of my elbow. When I play tennis, the sweat from my body joins the sweat in the air & I feel like I am swimming. I am a fish hitting a ball with my fins aggressively across a net. Somehow the ball maintains its sense of gravity in all of this water.

But the afternoons, and they have been all the same as well, these are my favorite. For in the afternoons, the sky turns from grayish light blue dotted with translucent puffy clouds to a dark churning pot of swirling grey & black. The air loses some of its water & starts to move quickly making a lot of noise in the trees. Clouds are moving fast now and everything starts to feel eery, as if preparing for something grand & monumental.

Suddenly the sky cracks. Streams of light go racing through the sky, at times whipping the earth below. Winds are picking up & rains start to pelt the earth. The air is moving very fast around me now and the sky is a spiraling mess. This is a summer storm and it is one of my favorite types of weather.

When the winds pick up, trees make such peculiarly satisfying sounds as it moves through their leaves. As light pours forth sprinkling the earth & the sky drops in chunks of wetness, clouds applaud in claps & stomps. When I am in the midst of a storm, I feel complete & happy, never afraid. If I was longing before the storm, I am quickly sated, like a baby at the tit. My senses dance around as they take it all in. I am in wonder & awe at the power unleashed within moments playing in fields as light drips into trees & booms and rumbles shake the ground I stand on. I feel so connected in these moments. My affinity for storms is oftentimes greater than for times of calm. Perhaps I am akin to a witch of old, tying knots in rope or in my hair to influence their coming & going.

Storms comfort me; through the loss of control, the wild display of power, I feel at safe & at home.

a fresh wind moves in: letting go of the angst

Today as i walked the loop by my parent’s house it was palpably a different experience for me. We moved into this house from a fish-bowl neighborhood, where everyone is competing with each other & can literally see into each other’s homes to know what they’re competing on. One of my friends growing up – her dad was a basketball star on our state’s NBA team & i used to play in the lake, others were my wild soccer team members (lots of stories to share about that!), and others were children with lame mothers who didn’t enjoy it when i would invite their daughters to play in the ice with me- so what if our feet got caught as we tromped around the icy stream beds? we were on an adventure! but i digress..

We moved here and it was spacious & surrounded by farm fields and the occasional farm house (which pretty soon got torn down as little box neighborhoods, as i call them, were popping up in their place). Good bye corn & soybeans, Hello plastic siding & same-looking boxes with same landscaping for people to live in! Everyone gets their little mortgaged square of bland, colorless earth around here. At the time, i was a very active young one – playing sports in every season, hanging out with friends, making out with my boyfriends in the basement. It was a time i look back on as being so outwardly-focused. But sometimes in my room, especially at night, i would feel this hungering ache. I would write poetry to my boyfriends or write in my journal to God. I read Edna St Vincent Millay. I wondered what it would be like to live an artist’s life and i hungered. It was a hungering ache i didn’t understand & it made me feel very very alone & misunderstood. While on the outside, perhaps everyone would’ve said, well, that girl had such a great, well-liked high school situation – and, in so many ways they were right – but there was so much uncharted territory, so much of myself, left unaddressed and, well, neglected. The plastic siding & homogeneity only made it worse.

They tore down the farmhouse i could see from my bedroom window – and the one across the street too, where my sister & i would dare one another to sneak into the old, falling-apart, creaky barn & where i got the then-wild asparagus & transplanted it into the garden. The neighborhood seemed to magnify this ache that i had. The homogeneity was excruciatingly painful. I saw it as a place with no character. Without soul. Filled with slaves disguised as people who take out mortgages & listen to everything the local news says. A place where people live in fear & do not think for themselves.

My inner life was relatively untapped while in high school. My inner learnings were to unleash themselves/i was to open up a few years later as i faced certain struggles like death, injury, desire & ways of life different than the ones i’d known growing up. Since this homogenous neighborhood experience & many seekings of character, art, ingenuity, individuality & ram-shackledness later, i am pleasantly surprised today as i go on an evening walk and feel peace as i look around at the surroundings, the plastic siding, the boxes, the manicured lawns.

Suddenly, my judgment or perspective of the place was not holding me back from enjoying my little moment in nature, my walk on the concrete loop in the subdivision’s flood plane turned into nature trail (i’m sure you’ve seen one of these places – a little forest, prairie, wetland nook in an area unbuildable for homes within a subdivision). The prevalence of non-native, “invasive” species didn’t bother me. The cotton woods were beautiful, as were the red-breasted black birds and the shrubby legumes were so prevalent & taking back that landscape, fixing nitrogen into it, so well! The sky had just rained & big grey billowing clouds were still turning above me. I felt like a witch as i harmonized with my surroundings, taking step by step, recollecting & embodying the walking meditation i had taken part in the week before at the prison meditation. Perhaps it was seeing some of the horrible natural devastation in Peru just a few months prior that gave me this perspective. The clear-cutting of the amazingly diverse amazonian rainforests into vast deserted land. The pollution near rivers & in cities. Perhaps it was this perspective which more easily allowed me to “let-go” of my previous hold on hating & judging & disdaining this young adult habitat of mine. Perhaps there’s something in this week’s astrology (I think so), which eased this transition for me. Or perhaps, this wound has finally dislodged in a deeper way within me & i have found peace here from within my earlier surroundings which beckoned so much pain, angst & aching. So many questions. So many existential crises.

And today on the walk, they felt transcendentally resolved. I felt finished with them. I was there, in this same place i have been so many times before, in so many moods and i felt … peace. simply put … peace. And that release brought happiness and gratitude.