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For the Duration

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“Time is nature’s way to keep everything from happening all at once.”                    Ray Cummings

Today, I feel like the ancient mariner, cornering passers-by to tell them a story, warning of dangers they will never face. What can I tell you my friend, that will soothe your way? Which words will unlock the flow of spirit waiting at the door? Which collection of syllables can point to the path? What symbols will register? I know that when I was lost, wandering all over the place, looking for a clue, I welcomed any hint of a direction. Now I need to tell someone else. This is how it was for me.

I felt like I was thrown into the universal music without a guide … so that my tune had to be original, built from scratch. Parents have a say but Originality is a note all its own. It is the first step in a new octave. In such a way, we are all in this together. We are all original. I can only play my own sounds but I can harmonize. Resonance is the key.

I could have spent a lifetime trying to control what appear to be the bits and pieces. That never really worked for me. Control does not allow for anything new. Control demands a closed system. In reality, it is all new, every day. For most of my life, my own style was to bash things into place and hold on to whatever worked at the time. Some stuff I managed to keep for quite a while. Eventually though, I had to let go. 70 years is too long for anything to stay the same. Chaos was not acceptable, especially in the beginning, so I labelled things as soon as possible, to keep them the same … including myself. Sometimes I found myself holding on to an idea of “me” as if life itself were at stake.

While there is no comfort, there is reassurance in realizing that my ideas are just that – my ideas. I am the one driving the bus. Ideas can change. We share a common consciousness, but it is experienced from any number of individual points-of-view. The Curse of human life is that who I am is up to me. The irony is that, everything else being equal, that’s what each of us would choose. The Blessing is that who I am is up to me.

In fact, who I am hasn’t actually happened yet. The past and the future only exist in the present. It is really about who am I going to be in the next moment. It truly is all relative. How I string the moments together is up to me. “I” am the point of view. Labelling something in the past and seeking it in the future is a fool’s errand. As soon as a name is coined, its attachment to reality begins to fade and the effort to keep it the same begins.

Personal alchemy can begin with a single word. Words are how we put the moments together. “Fear” for instance. Think of the word as a suitcase. Open it up and watch what tumbles out. Sit with that open suitcase for a while. Find a little piece of it and call it something more constructive, like “anticipation” or “excitement”. Or use it as a trigger for action. Do something. Practice. “Love” is another idea I have been pondering for years. When I realized that “Love” is coming from somewhere, not going to somewhere, my perception changed. “I” or “me” are always good ideas to contemplate. ‘Who’ is it that wants change?

Any system of transformation requires an internal focus … what stays the same throughout the process?  It is not an occupation for everybody. Change is not always good for business or relationships. It may be that those of us who slop about in this internal mess are just more inclined to do so. Those who are more evolved may simply be happy with the way things are. Understanding what is below the surface, or even seeing the world as a surface, is only necessary for some people.

From the beginning, I found that I resonate to certain frequencies and not others. This is how I found my way. Like heat-seeking animals in the desert or birds flying north in summer. The sense is so subtle that it is easily over-ridden by the screaming and the shouting of the modern world. And it is always there. The words come later, after the event. Each time, as I gave up the stuff I had been sure of, I became clumsy and stupid again. Over the decades, this has been some sort of cycle. Each time was like learning a new language, a different grammar … which led to a new way of seeing the world – as French divides the world into masculine and feminine and how German adds a dimension which is neutral.

Describing these invisible, immaterial patterns can’t be done in a word or two. It takes a story to put things together, to connect one moment to the next. It is connecting events – putting them in line –  that creates time and makes sense of the world. A story can bend and twist the perception of circumstances so that the incoming energy makes sense. How often do we say, in the face of an event, “I thought so”.

What we are really after is what endures. This is the paradox every seeker must resolve. What endures is what is looking in the first place.




My first grandson was born by caesarian, six weeks premature. Fluid appeared in his stomach and he had stopped moving. The doctors had to intervene. He had a leak in his lymph system. Lines were hooked up to provide the fluids his little body was missing. After eight weeks, multiple lines were replaced by one line – a ‘broviac’ over his heart. Since his immune system was compromised, he was in the hospital for six months. As the insurance company was well aware, Oliver is a million-dollar baby.

The lymph fluid seeped into his whole body. The new soft baby skin was stretched like a balloon, swelling up his stomach, arms and legs. His tiny hands were like bubbles. An operation closed the major leak and Stanley’s own willpower seemed to do the rest. Gradually the swelling disappeared, his immune system developed and his muscles grew. His own evolution took over.

Fortunately, his mother had six months maternity leave and his father worked independently for a distant mortgage company, so both parents were with him every day. The blessing was that little Oliver had nothing with which to compare his experience. As far as he knew, this is life … there is nothing otherwise. He would get uncomfortable though, as fluid build-up affected his breathing. He was drained once a week. Consitutionally, he was a tough little guy.

I began praying for him from the beginning. I was miles away from San Francisco, in the California Sierra mountains but the little guy had all the family and professional support available. As the veterans said, it was up to him at a certain point. All I could do was imagine the best for him.

Prayer, to me, means looking inwards and finding the connection that takes me out of my self. Prayer is a state of mind. That state of mind belongs to us all. Prayer works, I believe, subtle as it may be. Decades ago, I had helped heal my dislocated hip by imagining a constant flow of blue-green energy, sweeping in and through the joint. Who knows for sure, but it seemed to me like it helped. There are subtle energies that operate on a spectrum just beyond our senses. It takes faith to reach them. I had believed that all my life and I practiced seeing things that way. I felt like, if prayer now had a place, it was time for all that practice to pay off.

In prayer, I began projecting, imagining blue-green energy swirling in and around my tiny grandson, finding and fixing unresolved tissue. I went there in my mind for hours a day. I called to him through the 25% of the genes that we had in common. Without thinking about it, I began to mirror his personal struggle. I started working with hand-weights when I went on my long daily walks. I made it my mission to get in shape, all the while thinking of little Oliver … imagining him to be me and me to be him. The difference was only 70 years.

His mother and father, the nurses and doctors, all commented on how strong the little guy appeared to be. That was the beginning of a novel thought for me. What if we can have something going on here? What if there is a connection, very subtle more than likely, that resonates between my grandson and me. I imagined that the experience would not be the same as having a son. Upon my son’s birth, it was clear as crystal that we had a connection. After all, he was half me. I did not expect the connection to be as direct for a son once removed. I was wrong.

Since the news of his conception, I had been imagining a connection in my meditations. As if I were he and he were me. After a month or so of directing my thoughts in this way, I began to sense an unfamiliar shape, swirling in my mind. A slight form emerged amongst the blue-green streams, spiraling and sweeping, this way and that. There was something very subtle about it. It had a pulse. At its’ heart, it didn’t seem to be me. I imagined it to be my grandson.

Since college and Carl Jung, I have believed that we are all connected on a subconscious level. There is an element of faith in exploring those dimensions. They are non-local and will not be pinned down in words, despite how hard religions and philosophies may try. The experience we all have had – of a resonance that lifts us up out of our ‘selves’ – cannot be captured or willfully repeated. It is just a glimpse of the weave that underlies it all. To be honest, I did not expect to be aware of a connection. I assumed it was all based on faith. But I began to realize, as little Oliver was in the hospital month after month, we were beginning to think along the same lines.

During one visit to the hospital, I watched as he lay in his crib. His mom lowered a bar from which hung several colorful plush toys. It occurred to me that the little red one on the far left caught his attention. I imagined punching the little rabbit with our left arm as precisely as I could. I saw his right arm lift. I assumed it had to do with our connection. He tried several times. I’m not sure he knew that it was actually his arm yet. There was a subtle difference. It didn’t work to ‘try’ to move our arm. I had to ‘assume’ it was moving. I had entirely forgotten how I move my own limbs. I couldn’t push it. I just had to imagine it was so.

In such a tiny body, it wasn’t long before he tired. I could feel him going to sleep. There was a softness that I had not experienced in my own life since was I was child. A warm sleepiness like sliding back into heaven. His parents and I went out to lunch while he was sleeping. In the middle of the food truck barbeque, I felt an internal tick that told me Stanley was waking up. I looked at his mother to see if she were feeling the same thing. She was enjoying being outside, chatting with everyone. I dismissed it as my own projection. Still, I imagined that Oliver would like to turn on his side. An odd thought.

It was when I heard the crying that I knew something weird was going on. I woke up suddenly, in the middle of the night. A baby was next to me, wailing for attention. I knew it was not my imagination. It was out there. I was living in an RV, deep in the pine forest. I had no neighbors. I looked around for the source. I heard it. There was something there. At the time, it didn’t occur to me that the sound I had heard had anything to do with my internal state, with my wishes and prayers. They were insubstantial. This was not.

This was a note I had never heard before. This was here, somewhere. As I lay awake for the rest of the night, watching thousands of  stars roll across the pitch-black sky, it eventually occurred to me that, fantastic as it may sound, perhaps we had connected. I was an old man who had seen just enough to know that anything was possible and who had done just enough not to mind being wrong. What if I could guide this little soul through the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune? What if I could lend a sympathetic ear when all it takes is someone to listen? And what if we could do it all at a distance. It would be a tricky business, finding reality in the imagination. Boundaries would be important – something I was never very good at.

As the sunlight gathered strength, splintering between the pine trees, I heard another cry. It was a sound I would get used to. It would split into finer notes, eventually into a conversation, as we got to know each other well. I imagined wrapping my arms around that tiny soul and filling it with love. He would not be alone as long as I was around. In my mind, I put my finger in his little hand. Hold on to Grandpa, I thought, we will take this one on together.

Bottom Line

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I hesitate to offer what I have learned over 70 years, because what I have learned is that God is everywhere, all the time and there’s nothing to worry about … in the long run. Sort of a non-message. Of course, a single lifetime is a different story. It takes faith to cross the hills and valleys of living here on earth. Some older folks already know that things will be fine and are just quietly going about their business … having fun, with no need for reminders. Until you are older though, it can seem like quite a trek.

It could be that I am just late to the party, emerging from the dark and wandering around looking for someone to discuss my findings, like the ancient mariner. Over the long course of my life, I have found a reminder every now and then to be quite handy. I don’t think I am one of those who was born just to have fun. I am too curious. I am meant to confront the world and discover stuff. I don’t believe I am meant to be comfortable. At least, that’s how it’s been. And hopefully, one day, I will learn to pass a word or two on to those who are not having fun yet.

At my age, after seven decades, I have the opportunity to see things another way. I have made my case. I am not still pursuing unfulfilled wishes. I am not still trying to push and pull the world into place. I have given it my best shot and I am happy with the results. Like every other 70 year-old in history, I wish I could point out basic ‘rules of the road’ to young people, so that their way may be a little easier. But that is not the way life works. The essential path can only be uncovered by one’s self. All anyone else can do is point.

There are ‘laws’ that operate behind the scenes. There is an invisible structure out of which emerges the arrangement of ‘things’ we encounter in life. There is a framework to our experience that operates in the background, the way the moon disappears once a month and the earth zooms around the sun once a year. It is the spiritual side of the cosmic dance. To see what is going on, one has to pay attention, for a long time. Until one sees for one’s self, it is all just folklore.

The living mind, of which we are a part, can only be glimpsed, never captured. Like everything else, it is a pulse. Our connection is before we can think. The identities we use to get around in the world are fabrications, conjured out of the circumstances, resonating, in a way we often don’t recognize, to who we really are. Even while a mind is wrapped up in a role, spirit frequencies resonate with the heart, whispering directions. All we can do is peek at reality, as it pops up in the here and now. It takes a lifetime for most of us to learn to recognize that note and perhaps even longer to realize its value. We do though, eventually, realize that something more is going on.

For example, I have learned that I can’t keep anything the way it was when I liked it the most, despite what I call it. Anyway, desire is actually a state of being, not necessarily incomplete. With the luxury of looking back, I can see my lifetime as a transition, a beat in the music of the universe. The one way is much too big to know, there is nowhere it is not. We are here to learn harmony.


Insight into my real nature reveals a deep intention to transform. I am struggling to become my better self, to find the sweeter melodies among the swirling vibrations. Nothing stands still. There is a frequency to every thing. Some waves are very fast and some are very slow. How another vibration interferes with mine is how I know it. There is a rhythm to everything. It all comes and goes. Sooner or later, I have to pick something and stick with it for a while, making a shape in the flow. As a result, I get what I deserve. Being unwilling for change is like trying to fix the tide. Holding on in the mind, the flow of life stops and the dreaming begins.

The problem with knowledge is that it refers to a make-believe world in which opposites appear to create structure. ‘Opposites’ are actually extreme degrees of the same thing. Cold and hot, big and small, love and hate, joy and sadness are different places on the same scale. Every ‘thing’ is a field with two poles and depends on a point of view. So no two structures are the same. There is a masculine and feminine in everything. Nothing has just one side. Always taking or always giving just doesn’t work. This is the principle of creation. It takes two to make one.

In a universe where everything is connected, every action has a reaction. We lose sight of the form of this law in the millions of actions we take every day. Like pixels in a picture. Actions include thoughts and intentions, every one of which has a consequence. It adds up. The simple secret is that who I really am, who you really are, is the awareness behind all this nonsense.

Another cosmic law that has manifested itself to observers over time and contributed the most to science is – As above, so below. Universal patterns are repeated at the micro and macro levels. Life spirals. Know yourself and you will know it all. All magic means is that tiny, invisible patterns, when practiced properly, begin to show up on a larger scale.

These principles, distilled from thousands of years of observation, acknowledge the wave nature of our being. Upon these waves, we are playing our scenes, trying to keep life a certain way. There is a momentum to these invisible streams. Life moves on. The streams are becoming finer and finer in structure, flowing in and out of our lives as wishes and dreams, subtly suggesting there can be heaven on earth.

Conquering the unruly beast that life appears to be will never happen. There is nothing ‘outside’ of life that can bring it under control. We are in it, hook, line and sinker.

I believe this is where we want to be. Perhaps we all had a choice, somewhere along the line. Any being in the universe, if they had that choice, would want to be human. Our hearts can reach to ecstasy and fall to despair. We are destined to realize such states are all reflections of the God that pours through our hearts. How can we not be caretakers of the earth? Open souls bring a balance back into the world, relief from those who would shunt spirit into a corner and offer it for sale. The harmonies of joy and sadness are songs that need an ear. The kaleidoscope of light and darkness needs an eye. Even being here now requires a point of view.

Those of us who are young usually can’t afford to stop and look for very long. But there always comes a time when such information comes in handy.

The bottom line is that Life radiates in waves. Straight lines are a human invention, in order to get from day to day. There is nowhere it is not, so spirit knows nothing of a straight line. The spirit is in the earth from the beginning. That spirit is you. And me. Now. There is nothing more you are supposed to be. If you want more, it is up to you.

What works is to take responsibility for the way the world appears to be. After all, it only appears that way to you … if you look carefully. The world of your experience is in your terms, emerging out of your memories. It appears differently to someone else. What we have in common is that we must each do this alone. Only when I accept that I am steering the ship, can I turn it toward the stars.


Here we go again

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It’s been a while since I last wrote anything. Goes in cycles. I have been hiding from the rain in Palm Springs. Snow on the mountains around the desert valley felt like the edge of winter.

I can get used to doing virtually nothing … but watching my thoughts. It’s easy because I have done most of the stuff I want to do. I am happy being alive.

I’m back in the woods of the Sierras now. Multiple shades of green wake up my vision, which had grown lazy in the desert. Water spills everywhere, the rushing and splashing wakes up my ears. After the vastness of the dry lands, Nature wraps around me in these luscious hills. I have learned to welcome the change and appreciate each season. Seems to me, after all these years (70), that the source of most of my frustration has been my efforts to keep things the same.

A ‘thing’ is not a ‘thing’, it is a process. In order to hold a perception still in the mind, I stamp it with a name, confident that I can expect it to be the same way next time. This way, I can put some ‘things’ together into a world that makes sense … that is predictable.

Pretty soon, I am naming things I can’t even see.

Eventually, I will bend some perceptions into predetermined shapes, confirming a world which really only happens in my head … where I choose to look … and when. I pick a place in the flow and try to make camp.

I have learned that everything changes, except me. I am that which was peering out of a seven-year old body into the tropical Darwin sunsets. I am that which was reading a comic book about Disneyland, while returning to England on an ocean liner, through the Panama Canal. I am that who wanted to grow up to be James Bond and now accepts that Sean Connery and Daniel Craig did it better.

I am that which struggled to learn Latin, was over the moon in my first kiss and over-flowed with pride upon the birth of my twin sons. My body bears the scars of backyard accidents, youthful folly and 15 years of playing rugby, but I am not that which is getting old. Circumstances can fly to pieces in front of me and I am not that.

I am now that which has to concentrate, in order to lever my body up in the morning. The intentions, to express my self, remain the same … the only consistent thread in the pile  of events that tumble through the years. What I was at the beginning, I am now – the only element that hasn’t changed.

I am that which regrets being tired on a given day, which delights in small joys, which hopes, dreams and disappears when I look for it. I am that which you recognize behind the words. We are the same there.

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Holding the world in place only works for a while. It is only when that world shifts that I get a chance to glimpse what was holding it all together. Me. Seventy years of experience draped around a soul that came to play.

The sun is rising, spreading spears of light into the green. The forest is warming up once again. I am inseparable from all that. All that would not be there, the way it appears to be, without me. I was the desert for a while, spread out into the vastness, blue sky all the way to the horizon.

Now I am the forest. The heart of the mystery is that everything loses its meaning after a while. Except me.

Advice to Oliver

Grandfather and grandson

On the last day of 2018, my younger brother died after a long illness. He was finally at peace. Two weeks later, my first grandson – Oliver Stanley – was born, prematurely. He is in the preemie ward at the hospital in San Francisco. Jim died slowly and Oliver is taking his time coming into this world. Feeling one life pass and another come into being … and having just turned 70 myself … I am experiencing an almost organic sense of life.

In that spirit, I am moved to pass on some advice to my grandson. Some day he will see it, when he learns what words are. It may not make much sense at first.

One: Remember to breathe. Deeply. Find a rhythm. Rhythm is the secret of life.

Two: Learn to practice. Improvement for its own sake. Right now, your body is building your little muscles, learning to operate in gravity. Strength requires resistance. Resistance appears as you learn to separate yourself from your surroundings. Practice builds the muscles to do the work.

Life is an exercise in paying attention. Facing all this incoming information, you are putting patterns together that will last you the rest of your life. With practice – and patience – you can make yourself into whatever you can imagine.

Three: Learn to pray. Praying is just looking inside, learning to see with the heart. Where are you in there?  Imagine you are part of something greater (trust me on that one) and quietly look inside for what that might be. Praying is not asking for help, imploring the angels to swoop. Praying is, with a little practice, playing a note in a much larger chord. You will look for experiences that remind you of what it is like to be a part of something more.

Just like the sea reveals invisible forces playing on its surface, like the unseen wind bends fields of grass, the world is shaped by currents you cannot see. They are in-visible. What you can see outside is just the beginning of the game. Prayer develops a sense of what is behind all the clutter.

Four: Learn to let go. You will spend a few years learning to grasp things – fair enough, since you don’t have anything at the moment – but the time will come when you feel like you can’t take any more … the structures you have built up in your head won’t bend any further to explain things. That’s when you need to let go. Let go of thoughts, wishes and desires that worked once, but now are just piling up in the corner. Structures in your mind are just structures in your mind. Beliefs are not things.

You can’t reach if you don’t let go. Life is a stream, not an object. You can’t hold the river. Nothing stays the same, regardless of how we try to keep life a certain way by pinning words on things. You can’t push it either. Too many things go into every moment. Everything is in motion. It’s just a matter of speed. The world is alive. In your early years, life will come to you. Look forward. Pasting the past onto new experience, as comforting as that can be, will obscure what it is you may not have seen before. For me, at age 70, life is beginning to roll away. I don’t mind. I have playing in the stream for decades. Trust the magic of beginnings.

Five: Listen to your feelings: you are in for a lifetime of wondering what’s right and wrong, good and bad and so on. What can you know for sure? With practice in paying attention and being honest with yourself, you can always know how you feel. The way to grow is to answer for how you feel in a way that is good for everybody. It sounds simple. Knowing how you are feeling means learning to look inside. Answering for that feeling means expressing that energy in the world, being responsible for your self. Why do it in a way that is good for everybody? Because that is the way life works.

Six: Don’t take other people personally. Everyone else is busy trying to sort out the same stuff you are. If they say they have it all figured out and it’s not good for everybody, they are wrong. The point in being alive is to express who you are. At first, it is up to your Mum and Dad. You are in luck there. They will get you off to a good start. As you grow, your idea of who you are depends entirely on you. Others can never know and can never judge what you are thinking.

When others see you out in the world, it is always from their point of view. A shorter person will see you as tall. A taller person will see you as short. How someone sees you depends on them, not you. Your guide, all that you know for sure, is how you feel about stuff. If something out there in the world bothers you, there is a corresponding internal awareness of something you know to be true. Respond to that. Everyone else is in the same boat. The first words we hear are people telling us how to be. They are just repeating what they were told.

Seven: Be guided by joy. Joy is only rarely shouting out loud. Most of the time, joy is a quiet, sometimes almost silent, note. It can be a whisper that rings with a chord quietly connecting to the universe and it can be an avalanche that is overwhelming. It can be too much to deal with at one time. Everyone will teach you how to put joy aside to get stuff done. That where prayer comes in. A quiet moment of reminder … who you are behind the scenes. Joy is not a color on the spectrum. Joy is the spectrum. Joy is sad and happy at the same time. Joy is the experience of the fact that it is all here, now. Joy all the time and we would never go anywhere or do anything. Bring your life into accord with opportunities for joy … without making a big deal about it. No one can do that for you. Joy is the stream of being at the heart of everything.

Everyone has rules – designed to deal with the way life comes and goes. And everyone breaks them. No one is good all the time – we wouldn’t know what good is. Talk to your parents – you are in their hearts. Keep your word – make it mean something. Express yourself. Ask for help when you need it. When in doubt, reach. Look people in the eye and pay attention to what you see there.

For now, we will teach you how to break the world into bits and pieces, so that you will fit in. The day will come when you will see how to put it back together again. You won’t ever really forget how it was when you didn’t have to breathe. But you weren’t you then, so to speak. You are always a part of everything. You will just forget that for a while, in order to get stuff done. Ultimately, each one of us finds that there is only one way to deal with this messy human life – and that is to be brave and follow your heart.

Being Good

dunescape smallThe New Year. I am thinking about Being Good. As usual. And every year I wonder what I mean by ‘being good’.

‘Being’ just is.

‘Being’ is like light. It is not noticed unless it is reflected. That is the tricky part. The same light makes a red rose, a blue sky and any variety of shiny objects. Being just is. So Red, Blue and Any Variety of Shiny Objects depend on who is looking. The observer creates the scene.

And then there’s ‘Good’. Anything can be ‘good’ when compared to something ‘worse’. There are those who believe that ‘good’ is suffering. Those souls resonate with pain. A soul is a single note. A single note falls into accord with a similar frequency. This music is the in-visible fabric of our lives. Being good at something is being ‘one’ with it. An identity can get lost. The challenge is to find the right degree of separation. Being bad at something shows no accord. Where there are no chords, there will be no harmony. This is when we start playing with the words.

Every year, as we start again, I promise myself to be better at keeping my own word – to myself and others. Part of that process is being more precise about promises. What do I really mean? What do the words represent? The closer the words are to what actually happens, the better I feel. I have a habit of bending the words to fit. The New Year is time to gather my intentions and hold them up to the light.

In the old days, there was more ritual around letting go of what was and embracing what will be. The solstice was a celebration of the nature of life itself … a moment to let the manufactured mind go and join the larger process of which we are a part. The journey of life condensed into a ceremony. There are in-visible patterns that take shape in the flow of information available in the universe. Mythic patterms. Joseph Campbell writes about the Hero’s Journey. Jude Currivan describes the evolution from Loneliness to Aloneness to Alloneness. The essence of transformation is letting go.

I felt the transition more acutely this time because my brother died on the night of December 30th. He had been struggling for a couple of years with the effects of an under-active thyroid and severe diabetes. He was bed-ridden, blind and keen to have it all end. He believed that Christ awaited him on the other side. I gave permission to relieve extraordinary measures, when he fell into a coma. It is not that Jim is happier now. It is that he is no longer buffeted by dualities beyond his reach. He is no longer just Jim.

Truly knowing ‘Being’ requires knowing ‘Not-being’, so we can never really know. No thing can be distinguished that is everywhere, all the time. This is the secret of life … in order to be, it must end. For anything to be, it must pass … including the awareness that I am.

First we are instructed to “Be Good!”. Then we learn that Good is a relative matter. Values vary. Eventually I must decide for myself. What we can’t understand, while we are being taught what is what, is that the whole separation thing is made up.  If ‘being’ means ‘consciousness’, then being ‘me’ means consciousness in a location. We are the same consciousness in different locations … all flowers on the same tree. We need to see the differences in order to take care of the business of being in a body. But mind is more than that. Dreams arise when the body rests.

Our mental structures are designed to move a body back and forth, to get from here to there, to take and give this and that. Put the labels aside and there is nothing that is not. That is being. The awareness that I am. Before the other stuff … the rest of the sentence … is added. ‘Sum’ is Latin for ‘I am’. Every moment, I am the whole thing.

To me, being good means joining the music … just a strain, once in a while. I can’t listen for long, I know that. I can’t listen and manage myself at the same time. It is renewing to be reminded that the music is there.  A chord is made up of notes played simultaneously, a connection between two points on a circle of sound. The emergence of a shape in the air. The realization that I am more than just this.

Being good means being in accord with what appears to be different. Every moment, I am seeking resonance, sensing a way through the blizzard of labels and their insinuations. As I have grown older, the notes ring with memories. The melody underneath is so quiet, it is hard to hear. One must be listening closely. That is what I wish to feel more of this time around. The music in which I am such a tiny part.

water and rock


Palm Springs hike
Early morning hike into the hills south of Palm Springs

Stories aside, the Winter Solstice is really the beginning of a new year. The earth reaches the end of a pendulum swing across the solar system and spins back toward the sun. It is dazzling to think about all the motion whizzing around us. In the middle of it all, we conjure a world, a platform where we can find our balance, even though no straight line lasts for long.

It’s easier to relax into it now that I am older … having made it through this dance 69 times. Looking back, I can see how much time I wasted trying to control it, trying to be right. The more cycles I see, the happier I am just to be OK.

Although we return along the same path, after reaching the end of the swing, the whole business has moved in the meantime. A spiral, not a circle. The same pattern in a different place. The more I do this, the more I am inclined to mistake the pattern for a place all its own. The pattern becomes comfortable and I begin to apply it everywhere so that the circumstances, which seem to be out of my control, matter less.

I was struck by something astronaut Scott Kelly said about his year in space. He was asked what was different about living without gravity. Scott described the feeling we get at the end of a long, hard day. When you’re tired and aching, you can lie down. Gravity pulls on your body and it lets go. You collapse into the bed and you feel all your muscles dissolve. This is a feeling we can only get on Earth. In space, says Scott, there is none of that.  There is no end, no rest of that kind. Missing completely one end of a cycle we are used to … and designed for. His body was not made for that. Over the year, it began to come apart inside the skin.

That’s one end of the spectrum. The limits of the material world we are built for. Physical boundaries. The other end is a retreat entirely into the imagination. Let the world outside fall to pieces while we dream. The body won’t last long that way either. Nothing remains at either end of the pendulum swing. We have a specific place in the scheme of things.

Cycles of different sizes are frequencies. There is a frequency to the seasons, to the months and to the days. There is a frequency to love and hate … and to good and bad. As some animals are keenly aware, intentions have a frequency. The patterns that I personally am most used to resonate with some designs and not with others. My true intentions are broadcasting ahead, like radar. This is the journey of discovery, because underneath it all is the frequency that never goes anywhere – me. The trick is to separate the signal from the noise. Souls are drawn to harmony. The individual notes only have meaning in the music itself.

The child in me keeps hoping, like a character in a Shakespeare play, that I will see a sign from the universe. Reminds me of all those years I spent waiting for the metaphorical good news in the mail. After seeing a few cycles though, I can’t avoid the fact that it is up to me.  But I don’t want to just make it up. I want to be aligned, connected. There is a note, a sound, a vibration to an underlying rhythm … the body of the pendulum swing. When I don’t see it, it is not because it isn’t there, it’s because I want to favor a certain point in the swing. I want to keep things a certain way. That never lasts for long. I want to more consciously go with the flow. When I encounter an agreeable resonance, I feel like I belong.

The signs I have seen from the universe tell me that I am connected, that all my anxiety about being alive has been fundamentally a waste of time. Unfortunately, like everything else, that state of mind comes and goes.

I’m a little early with this New Year’s greeting. I want to suggest a little time to prepare. Real intentions can be a little hard to find. And it is real intentions which will be seeking to ‘shake hands’ with the world at large next year. Following the prevailing winds is the direction toward something new. By starting over, at the same time as the planet itself, seems like we might catch a breeze.

I see a turn coming, away from the defensiveness and bad behavior that accompanies insecurity.  We have forgotten that we are all in this together. The way life spills into our awareness, we will be reminded. That is the nature of this coming year. There is magic and mystery in the realization that if I truly change my mind, the world changes with me. Spirit is stirring. Words are unable to keep up with new perceptions of the universe and the nature of reality itself. Everything is connected. The makeshift world I built by separating stuff out of the current resides only in my mind. That’s all I will ever know. However, what I can experience, what I can feel, appears to be limitless.

The instructions on how to navigate a non-dual reality are shrouded in terms meant to defy the imagination. If it is everywhere, then it is nowhere, so the usual rules don’t apply. For a reason. If it is too easy, it will be abused. This is something we see all the time from those ‘who have found the way’. Realization accompanies the effort, not the result. Where the little (someplace) world stops and the big (everyplace) world hovers is on the edge of identity – the origin of free will.

On 12.21.2018 we can make up our minds with galactic winds at our backs. We can choose how to be, what to become, while everything is still new, with the momentum of Spring. The more of us that do it, the easier it gets.

What sometimes holds me back is that I don’t have to change. I don’t want the discomfort that accompanies not being sure of something. Sometimes I am too comfortable, too lazy, too apprehensive or too impatient to do something properly. Only doing it properly, with awareness, makes it work. I know this and I still flop about half the time. I have a lot to learn.

As we are pulled back toward the sun, we are renewed – knowing that, for a while, there is more light to come. Life will get brighter.

Thanks for following the blog. I wish I could say what was coming next but it’s probably something I haven’t seen before.

Happy New Year!