• Magical,  Send in the Clones

    Perspective

    I am greeted this week by a view of diffuse brown and green mountains tapering off into a distant haze, clouds melting up into white gummy skies. From up high, everything looks soft and peaceful. There is no hint of the constant frenetic undercurrent of movement that is so apparent when you drive down the mountain into Northern California freeway traffic. Things change when you look at them from a different vantage point. I spent Sunday night not sleeping. I knew I was “processing,” a catchall term that really means “going over and over in your mind all the stupid things you have ever done/said since the day you were…

  • Ho, Earthling!

    Pachelbel

    I’m haunted this week by Colorado. It keeps coming to me in different forms and from different places, SMACK a flash of memory. A mind’s-eye snapshot of brilliant white light filling rooms from every window. Bike paths winding through chirping prairie dog villages. The brilliant sky in tones of gold and vermillion, a different view in every direction. The purple crystal heart that hangs from my rear view mirror. Freedom. Loss. He was ten that year. The cello was a natural instrument, but they weren’t friends at first. Not long before Christmas, something clicked into place. He sat taller, straighter. The instrument became part of him, an extension of him.…

  • Love,  My Brain On Crack

    Wild abandon

    It’s no secret that I admire passion. I have lived many years between the swings of the pendulum, hurtling myself over cliffs and out of airplanes because that’s just the way things are done. In my world, anyway. Living with wild abandon hasn’t always had good results. Oh, it’s ripe with possibility for learning and growth, there’s no doubt of that. And I am all about growth. But other people don’t always understand my no-holds-barred approach. I have been hurt in the past upon discovering that what I thought was a melding of the minds (and hearts) was in reality rather disconnected. In retrospect, I could have asked questions and…

  • My Brain On Crack,  Time Machine

    Compassion

    I have been telling stories lately, the stories that add, thread by thread, to the complex weaving that comprises the fabric of my thus-far life experiences and that shape who I am. Layer by layer these stories build upon each other, some painful, some humorous, some poignant. If I could find one concise word that sums up the me-ness of who I am I would use that to say, “This is me. Here I am. Love me,” but we humans communicate in stories. We all carry stories. While telling mine, I often become lost in the emotions contained within them. I fall down deep dark holes leading far underneath the…

  • Ho, Earthling!,  Love,  Magical

    Time stretch

    Time has slowed way down. I feel it stretching into ever-thinner spools of gossamer, strung this way and that across the myriad doorways of possibility that fill each second and every breath. Those breaths become entire new worlds, ripe with green juicy wonder and dripping with the clear cold freshness of the breath that comes after, and after that. Nineteen. I count backwards, eighteen, seventeen, sixteen, until I reach the touchstone that began my realization that I have become a Time Sorceress. And with every moment hanging in stillness, if I choose for it to be so, I have infinite time to use the power of deep desire to create…

  • Ho, Earthling!,  Magical

    Contrast

    My good friend describes his life as what exists between the swings of the pendulum. Moving from one extreme to the other. I can relate; years ago I described my life to someone as a sine wave moving along a graph. He was pretty horrified by the thought and said he preferred to live life in the middle, escaping the extremes. The thought of having no high-highs and low-lows horrified me. I love the extremes. I live within the swings of the pendulum. My life is contrast. Once I thought that living that way meant I had to allow myself to become immersed in the low-lows when they moved in…

  • Magical,  My Brain On Crack

    Flight of the red-tailed hawk

    Not long ago I was driving through the gorgeous mountain pass just south of my home, on my way past tall lake-fed evergreens toward a bright beckoning newness that at the time remained indistinct. Suddenly my windshield view filled with wings, feathers, talons but before my foot could lift to slam on the brakes to avoid collision, the bird swooped upward and out of view. Brown and white. Red-tailed hawk. I knew at the time that I had received a visitation, but didn’t yet know the character of this new energy being given to me. I still only have an inkling. Kundalini. Noble vision. Perspective. Power. Hawk has been speaking…

  • Write Like You Mean It

    Resistance

    I am an expert at recognizing my resistance. When it crawls wetly onto my lap from the briny deep of my soul I stare at it a moment and then hum tunelessly. I don’t hear you, I don’t see you, let me alone, leave me be. I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror, Resistance perched pertly atop my head with a Cheshire grin. Fine. You win. I am writing. Not-writing. I feel Resistance in the act of Googling. Now I know that Ganesh is associated with the first chakra, called Muladhara, and that mula means “original, main,” and adhara means “foundation.” Great. I needed to know that. I…