Blue Firebird, Art by Ragen Mendenhall
11 N°11
April–May 2009
Editorial Everyday Magic by Tracy Marshall
I
woke up dreaming of the advanta tile —a pattern in the form of a window— on the morning of the trip to Madrid for the Kryon and Tobias channeling event last month. A couple of days previously I’d woken up dreaming of sevens, and had packed Oversoul Seven by Jane Roberts to read on the train. There were a few window incidents that day: mainly windows that I was unable to open and couldn’t, such as the window on the hot and stuffy train, and the window in the hotel bedroom. I unpacked, and opened Oversoul Seven at random, which I hadn’t read on the train after all. “Window! Window!” Proteus cried. I had forgotten that there was a character in the book called Window, and this seemingly random and trivial synchronicity cheered me, silly and inconsequential though it might seem, as I struggled to acclimatize to the huge hotel. A little bit of my own everyday magic. There were many topics covered at the Kryon Event, and one of them was orbs. Lee Carroll showed ‘before and after’ photographic evidence of conjuring up orbs during meditation, with a suggestion that the audience try it. The next day during a stroll through Madrid’s Retiro park, we chanced upon an exhibition of glass sculptures in the Crystal Palace glass house. The place was full of orbs —real physical glass orbs. We had created our orbs. Real physical orbs, not elusive photographic orbs. I missed one of the talks, by Dr Todd Ovokaitys, about whale sounds and the use of sound in meditations and so on, while I was looking for my phone. While I was up in my room, I heard a strange sound underneath my window. Somewhat bizarrely, it was a magpie, which was a personal synchronicity with a collaborative fiction project in which magpies featured. I missed the lecture on sounds while creating my own little sound incident. Tobias, channeled by Geoffrey Hoppe, was a guest at the event. I’d been attempting telepathically to get Tobias to say the word ‘watermelon’ during his monthly online live channeling for six months or more, just for fun. Somewhat disappointingly, Tobias didn’t say watermelon despite my best efforts to Editorial, continued on page 4
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Email for inquiries and submissions wisp.ezine@gmail.com Cover artist Ragen Mendenhall Design and publication Éric P. Lemoine
ISSN 1760-4796 Contributors to this issue Rob Arteman (USA) Alex Baranosky (USA) Jean Blenkhorn (USA) Rachel Brookes Finlay (Spain) Rick Daddario (USA) Jean-Baptiste Duret (France) Marguerite Duret (France) Mark Felder (USA) Sheila Greer (USA) Gunn Hole (Norway) Sabine vom Hoff (Germany) Richard Kendall (USA) Faro King (USA) Eric Lo Chen Hoon (Malaysia) Joy Marjorie (Spain) Tracy Marshall (Spain) Kenneth McSween (USA) Ragen Mendenhall (USA) Sharon Mendenhall (USA) Nancy Miller (USA) Devonne Morgan (USA) Anet Paulina (USA) Mike Nelson Pedde (Canada) Scott Rabalais (USA) Dick Richardson (U.K.) Gordon Rosenberg (USA) Ken Shaw (USA) Tom Sherlock (USA) bob strating (USA)
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Cover Artist Ragen’s Art Ragen Mendenhall creates paintings that inspire the imagination, beautiful and richly ornamented scenes that seem to originate from a dream world. Upon further reflection, her paintings reveal more than meets the eye. From a fertile spring of universal archetypes, Ragen draws the inspiration to create images that encourage us to examine our connection to each other, and our place in the world from a spiritual viewpoint. Her ethereal figures merging with elements of nature are presented with an intent to depict the spiritual concept of a soul, or eternal essence inhabiting the physical world. In Ragen’s oil painting, “The Mask of Psyche”, a beautiful woman peers from behind a butterfly mask. ‘Psyche’, the Greek word for ’soul’, is associated with the butterfly because the Greeks believed after death, the spirit, or the “breath of life” escaped from the body in the form of a bird or butterfly. The painting personifies the idea of a greater soul donning the ’mask’ of the natural physical world, in order to experience what it is to be human. Ragen’s works are created in a variety of media, oil painting, watercolor, pastel, colored pencil and ink techniques are among her many explorations. Fans of her work have been astonished to discover that many of the skillfully executed works in her collection where created in her early high school years. Ragen is a native of Las Vegas and spent her childhood there. She attended the Las Vegas Academy of International Studies, Performing and Visual Arts, magnet high school which is housed in the historic art deco styled building on 7th and Bridger Street. The building was the original home of Las Vegas High school, the very first high school in Las Vegas. Upon her graduation in 1996, Ragen was awarded a full tuition scholarship to the Art Institute of Seattle. She has spent the last few years living in Arizona and in June of 2008, she relocated back home to Las Vegas to exhibit and create work from her new art studio at Neonopolis. Ragen’s artwork is steadily becoming recognized nationally and abroad, her images were recently published in a card deck by the well known author, Doreen Virtue. She is currently represented in Laguna Beach, California, by Whelan Galleries. Find out more at http://www.ragensart.com
Blue Firebird, Art by Ragen Mendenhall
Artist’s Statement The primary focus of my work is centered around the expression of human emotion… My paintings are symbolic representations of emotional states, a type of visual poetry in which I present the elements of a story to be interpreted by the viewer. The face is the greatest visual communicator, capable of inspiring empathy and ultimately, selfrealization. I’ve always esteemed people’s faces to be objects of unequaled fascination, they are most often the focal point of my compositions. The face is a marker of the individual, and yet it is also a mask… From within each of us, a vast invisible world thrives. How does this unseen universe emanate from within the heavy confines of flesh? The intimate self is expansive. Like water, it flows in every direction. In this energetic world of the imagination, objects of physical life, enjoy a greater, more glorified existence as symbols within an ocean of memories and associations. They are anchors, to which the net of understanding is tethered.
Non-physical experiences, mood and emotion, are so powerful, they color and seemingly adjust the corporeal world around us. I seek to amplify the essence of this pervasive emotional interior through the symbolism of the themes I depict in my work. I often present animals or the forces of nature as allegorical elements and strengthen emotional association through deliberate use of certain color schemes that I find to be mood altering. Common themes I explore include birth, transformation, and death. I am intrigued by the cyclical perfection of nature and the idea that death and darkness are necessary functions of growth and renewal. I am fascinated by the concept of consciousness as a type of knowledge built upon experiences of the physical world, but not bound by physical limitations. A theme I often portray through my work is that of ’spirit', ’soul' or 'infinite consciousness' inhabiting the physical realm of nature.
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Editorial, continued from page 2
project the word to him, but after the event was over I saw Geoffrey Hoppe in the hotel foyer and approached him, saying ’say watermelon!’… And it worked! He immediately replied ‘watermelon’ —several times in fact— and told me that he had mentioned watermelon the day before to his wife Linda in the hotel dining room. ’don’t forget your watermelon’ he had said. ’she loves watermelon.’ Once again, I couldn’t help but appreciate mundane everyday magic. There’s something marvellously magical about creating real glass orbs, certainly no less magical than creating photographic orbs by more esoteric methods. It would have been wonderful to create Tobias channeling the word ‘watermelon’ for sure, but how much more magical to create an actual slice of watermelon in the dining room and have Geoffrey remark on it, and to have an actual physical conversation with him about it. There’s no doubt that the Kryon Event was a fantastic experience, not least meeting new people, but the best part of it all was a renewed sense of appreciation for my own mundane and everyday playful magic, and a reminder not to discount or overlook the delights of the physical world in the search for ‘enlightenment’. The outer physical world is our playground, a perfect reflection of the seemingly elusive inner self.
“And many people forget how simple and natural magic is, so they evolve long theories, and methods that are supposed to make it work, when you and I know, and everyone else really knows, that magic happens by itself, because that’s what magic is. But people are also very creative —magic again!— so they make up gods of this and that, and realms and spheres, and maps to chart out in advance where magic might be taking them so they don’t get surprised —which is silly because magic goes where it wants to, which is everywhere. And when you try to map it out in advance, you really cut yourself short.” from The Charmed Life, The Further Education of Oversoul Seven by Jane Roberts
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Inside Editorial, Everyday Magic Tracy Marshall • p.2,4 Cover Artist, Ragen’s Art Ragen Mendenhall • p.3 Orbs, Josiah McElheny Elikozoe, J.-B. Duret • p.6-7 Elikozoe, Sabine vom Hoff • p.8-10
Astro Zeitgeist, Neptune & Mars
Jean Blenkhorn, Gunn Hole • p.10
Blue Dream Snapshot, I’ll Wear My Own Shoes
Devonne Morgan • p.11
Blue, Rick Daddario, J.-B. Duret, Birds and Mirrors Kenneth McSween • p.12-13 The Mysterious Doorway of Amaru Muru (2/3) Mark Felder • p.14–16 Presence (II) Sabine vom Hoff • p.17 Roots of Ronda Rachel Brookes Finlay • p.18-19 Sally, BarkRite, and the Fortune Cookie Richard Kendall • p.20-21 Sharon Mendenhall • p.22-26
The CMPC Family Amusement Park A Circuitous Road to Appreciation
Messages from George
Anet Paulina • p.26-27 Sheila Greer • p.28
Whisper Zone, poetry Alex Baranosky, Eric Lo, Sheila McGregor, and photography Kenneth McSween, Tom Sherlock • p.28,31,32-33 Groovy Thinking
Dick Richardson • p.30 Faro King • p.34-35
For The Love Of The Frog Girl The Nature of Synchronicity
Scott Rabalais • p.36
Fear of Judgement (Part 2)
Ken Shaw • p.37–38
Beyond Judgment
Nancy Miller • p.39
Tile of The Month (the Green Phœnix) Robotman’s Energy Exchange – Session 2
Jean-Baptiste Duret • p.40 Rob Arteman • p.41
How To Listen To A River Gordon Artrias Rosenberg • p.42 The Waterfall Mike Nelson Pedde • p.43
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photography by Jean-Baptiste Duret
O Orbs
Island Universe Josiah McElheny’s sculptures
photography by Jean-Baptiste Duret
The term orb describes unexpected, usually circular artifacts that appear in photographs. Sometimes they leave a trail, indicating motion. Though interpretations may differ on the causes of these artifacts, there are many natural reasons that may cause orbs to form: specks of dust floating in the air, moisture and other tiny foreign elements on the lens like hair, cobwebs etc., the light reflected on which can form a “circle of confusion.” They are especially pronounced in modern ultra-compact cameras and can also be called orb backscatter or near-camera reflection. More on http://www.theorbzone.com
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Josiah McElheny’s sculpture Island Universe (2008) is made
in five parts from highly reflective chrome-plated aluminium and hand-blown glass. McElheny, a contemporary American artist, collaborated with astronomers and cosmologists like David Weinberg to create an accurate structure for his work in order to express a model of a ’multiverse.’ Instead of the early Big bang theories that would explain
the origin of the universe as a single explosion at a single moment back in time, it offers a model where the universe bursts into new possible expanding universes, with varying amounts of energy or matter present at the universe’s origin. The dimensions and positions of the elements as haphazard as they may appear are the result of precise placement and design, with the
glass discs and spheres representing galaxies in our universe, and the rods’ lengths are used to depict time measurements. As much a work of art as it is a piece of contemporary cosmological work, Island Universe is a representation that his author sees implications in other realms as well, such as sociology and politics.
FEB.–MARCH 2009
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Astro
♈
March 21st – April 20th
Aries
April 20th – May 20th
♉
Taurus
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Zeitgeist T
he constellation of Aries (The Ram) is associated with the premises of the Greek myth of the Argonauts and their quest to find the Golden Fleece. The Golden Fleece was that of the ram which was divinely sent to fly Phrixus and his sister Helle away, so that they could escape their stepmother Ino. While Phrixus survived all the way to Colchis, his sister fell in the sea, giving the location her name (Hellespont). When he arrived in Colchis, Phrixus was greeted and kindly treated by King Æëtes, the son of the sun god Helios, giving him his daughter in marriage. In gratitude, Phrixus sacrificed the ram to Zeus and gave the king the golden fleece of the ram, which Æëtes hung in a tree in the holy grove of Ares in his kingdom, guarded by a dragon that never slept.
Neptune & Mars Pisces 21 Feb. – 20 March
Aries 21 March – 20 April
by Sabine vom Hoff
Y
ou can perceive them as END and BEGINNING and/or the other way around. I prefer to understand them simultaneously Neptune, ruler of Pisces is the source.
Mars, ruler of Aries is the outcome.
Both are now. Simultaneous.
T
aurus is usually associated with the Greek myth of the bull-form taken by Zeus in order to win the beautiful Phoenician princess named Europa. While Europa and her female attendants were gathering flowers, she saw the tamed white bull and eventually got onto his back. Zeus took that opportunity and ran to the sea and swam, with her on his back, to the island of Crete. Revealing his identity, Zeus then made her queen of Crete. In other interpretations, the bull is also seen as the Cretan bull of Hercules’ labours, having fathered the beast known as the Minotaur. The constellation of Taurus contains one of the brightest stars in the night sky: Aldebaran. Located in the bull’s head, with a reddish colour, the star has been also named “the Bull’s Eye”, its colour sometimes reinforcing the belief of anger tied with the bull.
Mars is the power of appearance; whatever form self is choosing — the power of creation, the ‘output’ of what self perceives is Mars. I would express the difference between how I consider the Mars-power and how the ‘old’ Astrology considers it that way: the power is already there, nothing is left to do, merely perception is required to become aware of that energy-principle. Mars represents the source of the outer senses, the objective — the source being Neptune, which is the “ALL THERE IS”, the source being the inner senses, the subjective. They move in complete harmony; more so, they are identical. But don’t get confused: the ‘what’ is Venus (Taurus) whereas the ‘how’ is Mercury (Twins). The easiest way to become aware of one’s own Mars power is to know where Mars is in the individual horoscope and to consider the mundane running Mars. Those themes are the outcome of Neptune (the source). The natural flow is guaranteed by merely being and wondering ‘what is’. March 17, 2009
In the tradition of the astrological ages, the Taurean age was associated with the beginning of agriculture, bronze, and with civilisations of bull worshiping cults, like in Egypt (with the bull Apis), Assyria, and Crete. The age of Aries on the contrary is associated with iron, and the beginning of monotheism replacing polytheism (Abraham’s sacrifice)…
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♀
Venus
and
the Links of Consciousness Ruler of Taurus, April 21 – May 20
Venus is the planet representing the manifestations of the choices (Uranus), all which are manifest through all outer senses: what you taste, what you smell, what you hear, what you touch, what you see are manifestations. All these manifestations have different ‘textures’. The textures are made of molecules, the molecules are made of atoms and so on, and so forth. Finally, all are links of consciousness. Links of consciousness are neutral in themselves; what makes them available is the individual perception. Which is the manifestation of the subjective choice. That is what the principle of the TaurusVenus stands for.
Whispers in Blue, by Jean Blenkhorn
Egyptian Blue: one of the earliest if not the first known synthetic pigment, a bright blue, was made by the Egyptians, with a mixture of copper, sand and natron.
Blue
♀ – The symbol for Venus, the goddess of love and beauty and for her planet is thought to be a stylized mirror. Copper was used to make early mirrors, and is thus associated with beauty and Venus. It was also used in alchemy as the symbol for copper.
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Blue Hour, photography by Gunn Hole
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Dream snapshot I
I laid down for a little nap and had this interesting dream…
was outside in a yard/garden on a bright sunny day. My sister came up and asked me if I would come for a walk with her. I said sure and put down my gardening things. She looked at me strangely as I was brushing my self off and then she said “Would you mind doing something first?” I said, “Sure, what do you need?” thinking that she needed help with something. She is looking at me strangely, you know that look when someone is trying to get inside your head? It was weird and uncomfortable like she was being sneaky about something. Next she picks up a pair of shoes that are next to her on a little table and says “Could you wear these shoes instead?” I am about to say yes (truth is I would do about anything for my sis’) but as I am looking at these shoes I begin thinking… “huh?” The shoes she is holding out to me are a strange tennis shoe that are made more for fashion than they are for practicality. They are all plastic, black and white, and very narrow.They look like something a teenager might wear. They look very uncomfortable. I look down at the shoes I am wearing, a nice canvas tennis shoe. My shoes are blue and white with many different geometric patterns. The tongue is blue and white polka dots, one side is a striped pattern and one side has a sort of tribal pattern on them.They are very interesting, not something I actually own, but I like them, they make me smile. Then I look at her shoes which are similar to mine except the blue and white designs are different. I look back up and meet her in the eyes. Again she is staring at me kind of urgently. Her behavior reminded me of the old hag with the poisoned apple in the movie Enchanted. Being all nice but pushy. I am looking back into her eyes trying to figure out what her purpose could be in wanting me to wear these shoes that do not fit, in size or personality. I say “I’ll wear my own shoes… if you don’t mind.” She puts the shoes back down with a rather irritated expression.
photography by Joy Marjorie
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I’ll Wear My Own Shoes by Devonne Morgan I think that I have just past a road block in my life with the big name “People Pleaser” on it. It also says “DoorMat” and “Sucker”. I was brought up to be “the nice girl” the one who makes everyone else happy. While I do think it is important to be nice, I have realized that it is not my responsibility to make sure everyone is happy. It is my responsibility to be true to myself, to follow my instincts, and love. And, well, that doesn’t always make others happy! I am no longer so easily manipulated by tears and pouting, loud voices and the stomping of feet. I will not try to calm the temper tantrum throwing brat with a “there there now sweetheart” when what should be said, if any response is necessary, is “if you are not happy with your present situation then change it”. There are other things that I see: Declining to be manipulated into roles that people force upon you. Thinking things through before you give a “yes” answer… you don’t always have to say yes. Being comfortable in my own shoes, and being self confident enough to be me whether or not someone else can accept it.
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photography by Jean-Baptiste Duret
Many languages do not have a separate term for blue and green. For instance, the ancient Egyptian word wedjat means blue and green. It is also the name for the well-known Eye of the Moon, which later became the Eye of Horus and the Eye of Ra.
Magpie reflection The color of eye shadow in a mirror
Haiga by Rick Daddario
Wilde Blue Yonder, oil on canvas by Kenneth McSween Wisp e-zine
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Blue Elephant Dreams by Rick Daddario
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The Mysterious Doorway of
Amaru Muru
,
by Mark Felder
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(Part 2)
photography by Mark Felder
T
he stone surface was undulating under my hands. I seemed to be moving in all directions at once. I moved into and out of the doorway, but kept ending up right back at the opening. My eyes had been closed the entire time, as there was nothing to see anyway. My knees were aching as there was no padding to protect them from the hard rough stone beneath. I was unable to get a decent breath of air. I continued to chant the tones, adjusting them each time for what felt best. After about ten minutes, I stopped. I had not passed through. I needed to regroup my thoughts, get some air, and rest my knees. I would try again after the others tried it. I stood up in the blackness, shuffl ing and feeling with my feet for the edge of the ledge, and slowly slid my way down and worked my way back to the group. They surrounded me asking questions. “Did I go through? How do I feel? What happened?” I told them what happened, and that I was going to try again shortly. They told me that I seemed to disappear, that I went silent for a minute or so, and then they could hear me again. They thought I had passed through. They asked again if I was sure I didn’t pass through. From my perspective, I hadn’t, from theirs; I had disappeared for a minute or so. They said that there were lights and glowing coming from the doorway, but I was hard to see. Kathy was fi lming me up close as they asked questions. The IR camera has a short “sight zone” so she couldn’t fi lm me at the doorway from her position at the waiting area, and we didn’t want anyone too close to the doorway when someone else was using it. We don’t know what would happen, but felt it would interfere with, or most likely distract the person using it. I found a boulder to sit on. My legs were weak, I was still trying to get my breath, and the energy from the doorway was even more powerful now. I felt as if I had been running a great distance and was rather disoriented. As I sat there, I could feel myself swaying back and forth with the waves of energy washing out from the portal. I asked if anyone else felt the same and they all said yes. It was really rocking, literally. The energy seemed to push and pull about once every second or so. It was strong and felt relaxing, but it was also strangely familiar. This energy felt quite natural and very, very large. Yet there was a strong mysterious undercurrent to it, almost as if it was conscious. My mind was working overtime. Just what am I messing with here? I felt like I was tampering with the universe, trespassing on a portal I had no business messing with. This doorway is not a toy, or a frivolous plaything. Not that I didn’t already have a huge amount of respect for it, but now I really had some respect for it. The reality of it all was still sinking in. I was actually there, activating it with my mind and voice, and it was responding. This was a paradigm shattering kind of mind expansion moment, and I was fully enjoying every boggling second of it. Solid rock just doesn’t normally move around like that. Ray was next to volunteer to try the door. He all gave him encouragement and watched his black figure work its way up to door in the faint starlight. He disappeared from sight at the opening, but we could hear him quite well; every shuffle, every breath. The stone wall and cavity acted like a megaphone, amplifying the sounds and aiming them right back to us. After a few minutes, he started the chant. We listened intently to every sound. I strained my eyes looking for any movement, and sign of lights, or anything at all. Ray chanted the tones and paused, chanted again and paused. He shuffled about and clearly he was struggling for air, just as I had.
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“I can hardly breathe” he announced to us, and after a moment, started the chants again. Then suddenly, there was absolute silence. I couldn’t hear him breathing or shuffl ing; nothing at all. There was a faint glow around the opening, very softly. The entire face of the rock wall had a slight glow about it too now. But the keyhole shaped cavity was completely black. We all seemed to be holding our breath, straining to hear the slightest sound coming from the stone wall, then, after about half a minute, the tones started again, and we could hear Ray breathing and moving. He chanted several times more, and then he started back down towards us. When he reached us, we all started with the questions. Kathy was working the camera. Ray’s account was somewhat like mine. I don’t recall many of the details of what he said, but the video of all of our accounts will be posted on the net sometime soon. He was unable to pass through, yet related an amazing experience. Ethan was next. We gave him encouragement and wished him an excellent journey. He picked his way up to the doorway and he disappeared into its darkness as he positioned himself in the opening. He started chanting the tones and after a few minutes, there was a repeat of the short period of eerie silence while he was chanting. He too reported that he could barely breathe in the opening. After a short time, he returned to the group. He said he didn’t pass through but also had an amazing experience. Again, I don’t recall the details of his story accurate enough to relate them here. I was about to go to the doorway again, but then Klaus decided he would try it. For us, his time at the doorway was the same as the others. But he reported that the doorway told him he was not ready. It would not let him pass. He was very disappointed and sat on the rocks slipping into a deep meditation. Our local guide, Henry, who was traveling with us on this portion of the journey, went up, and he too seemed to go silent for some moments, and then he too reported some amazing visions, but felt he didn’t pass through. Five of us had now tried the doorway, and everyone reported having trouble breathing in the opening, as if there is no air in there. The chants were extremely difficult to do without air, and I felt that there was a primary reason I was unable to pass through. Getting a good resonance with the tones and no air to make them was quite a challenge. One of the guys attached a white cloth to the backside of my backpack, so they could see me better in the starlight. I headed up to the doorway again. This time I was determined to go through.
The air had become much colder, yet the wall of stone was warm to the touch. I positioned myself in the opening, tipped my head back to fill my lungs as best I could, and started the first tone.
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The waves of energy coming from the opening rapidly increased in their intensity. Then I made the second tone. The rock face started to undulate rapidly under my hands. I could feel that I was being pulled in. It felt as if I had traveled inwards about 3 feet, and then as the energy pulsed, I was pushed swiftly right back out; then pulled back in 3 feet, and quickly pushed all the way back out. I made the third tone. Instantly I was pulled right through the stone way inside, much further than before, but I had run out of breath and struggled to inhale. I felt that I was so close, just a little more tone, a little more resonance with a little more power, I strained to make the tone louder, more forceful, but I lacked the air to do it. I paused there, inside the stone mountain. I was thinking about what Jerry had related in his story of going through the doorway, and how he got stuck on the other side. He could see through the wall, as if it were a clear glass partition. He could see his wife Kathy and Lake Titicaca in the distance. But he was trapped in a dark place with a doorway that he had found with his hands, cut into the wall, just like this outer side had. He positioned himself in the doorway and started to make the tones. He had a lot of difficulty breathing, finding enough air to make the tones to hopefully get back out. He became greatly concerned about not getting out, but finally was successful. No one had prepared him for this situation, so he had to figure it out himself. Would I encounter the same situation? Now I was getting concerned; if I did barely manage to get through, could I find enough breath to make the tones and get back out? I fi lled my lungs the best I could and started the first tone again. Instantly, I was pushed way out from the opening and pulled right back in. Obviously, that wasn’t the right thing to have done. I continued with the tones, but could not get as far back into the doorway as I had been, I was unable to generate any decent resonance. The doorway’s energy had changed somehow. I chanted the tones several more times, but all I did was get pulled in and out. It seemed as if I was there for ten minutes. I stopped and went back to the group. I would try again after regrouping my thoughts. The shortness of breath in the opening was becoming a tough thing to overcome. Ethan, who had gone back to the bus for something, said that from his vantage point, while I was in the doorway chanting, the entire wall had lit up, and so did the area directly in front of it. The others told me they could make out the white cloth on my back. They saw the cloth disappear for a minute and then they saw me “back out of the doorway, halfway to where they were, (they were 40 feet away) and quickly go right back in again.” They said it happened much too quickly for me to have been able to do that in the dark, especially backwards. I was exceptionally woozy from the lack of air and the massive amounts of energy the doorway was putting out. I needed to rethink my method of activating the doorway, and grok the reality of all this. What was really foremost on my mind was that I was actively trying to remove myself from this physical reality and from the earth itself. It was kind of heady surreal stuff to deal with. It was time for the others to try again. We had a long night ahead of us yet and things were just starting to get interesting. To be concluded with part 3, in next issue.
Presence, part II
Presence is more than just being in the now and aware of the outer senses. It is also being aware of the inner senses. So how do I become more aware of my inner senses? As in my first example my intention was to walk from A to B. One of the inner senses expressed “Is the concept equivalent to a plan?” A different concept might be to walk into the woods without any idea where to got. Here the concept is to have ‘no plan’ where to go. In both examples intuition is also expressed when I follow my impulses. In the first case I might alter the path (sudden impulse to cross the road and walk on the other side of the road, or even turn right/left into another road which does not directly lead to B), whereas in the second example I don’t alter the path, I just follow the impulses. The next inner sense I want to become aware of is the empathic sense. First example (walking from A to B) I suddenly stop (impulse) and notice dog shit right next to my left foot. What is my automatic first association and how do I react? Through my empathic sense I generate all kinds of emotions related to dog shit, like: I get an impression of the dog who ‘did’ it few minutes ago, of the dog owner, happy/unhappy with this expression of the dog (I know they went out just for this shit, or the dog did it despite the rush the dog’s owner was in, therefore the dog’s owner became upset, almost angry etc.). What I want to say is, if I take a moment and use my empathic sense, I will generate all kinds of impressions related to the imagery. Second example (walking through the woods): by following my intuition I have no thoughts about the path. To use my empathic sense I can use anything that triggers my attention: a tree; I take my camera and make a picture. I probably see a ‘face’ somewhere in the tree (that always happens to me) so I start to communicate with the tree or a cloud or a stone and so on and so forth,… and I generate all kinds of impressions related to the communication which I choose to engage. Now, why is it ‘useful’/important to be aware of the inner senses? As far as my own awareness goes I can say this: I am exploring how I create my reality: there is no outer reality, I am the source of all there is in my perception. When I am aware of my inner senses, I am ‘my source’, then I am in connection with my ‘choosing self’. And that makes me feel very comfortable.
Faces in the Trees, photography by Sabine vom Hoff
As Elias says: presence is being in your comfort.
Sabine vom Hoff, March 1, 2009
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Raices de Ronda –
Roots Of Ronda by Rachel Brookes Finlay
When we first met Chico in his shop in Ronda, totally by chance, we were wandering around a Medieval Fair which went straight past his little shop, and got intrigued by the carved comical faces sculpted into gnarled pieces of wood which were on the street. Chico was just in the doorway, carving away on a new piece as we were looking around at the pieces on display within the shop. We were a little unsure whether to pick each piece up, but he came and told us to please touch and pick up the carvings as you never know where you will find another face carved into the wood. He was so enthusiastic about the carvings and also very happy and surprised how many people come into his shop and leave with a smile just after looking at his creations. We were very lucky to be the first people other than family members to visit this magical place. The land is the property of his father-in-law, and over the last four years Chico has been carving magical faces into the living trees. The first tree we saw was a eucalyptus, which had four huge faces carved into it. He explained that as the tree’s roots were becoming a problem with the foundations of the pool and the tree would probably have to be cut down, he decided to see what effect carving would have on the tree. Chico explained that his inspiration is in the natural form of the tree. He creates the first part of the art and the tree does the rest. He was initially artistically trained in the human form and studied under Ricardo Davila. What he discovered was he did not agree that the human face should have to be symmetrical; he preferred to create faces with comic features and character. And if one eye was lower than the other, it was ok. Though he normally would never carve so much on one tree, the surprise result was that the tree re-grew around the carvings and carries on living today as healthy as ever, and seems to be on reprieve.
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His preferred tree to carve is the olive tree. The reasons he gave are that they are not protected —there are many trees that are protected in Spain— and also that the olive tree naturally lends itself to the magical carvings due to its gnarled roots and twisting trunks. Chico is quite happy to carve on anything —well, anything that is natural: stone, wood and even avocado stones! We didn’t see any of these items, but for me the trees seem a wonderful canvas for his art. He started carving the root area of the trees and moved on to the trunks to great effect. It was a wonderful experience to walk around the trees, finding the sometimes smiling, sometimes laughing, and the odd sad face. As Chico explained, it all depends on his mood when he is carving the faces. He told us that he had two dreams: the first one which he had already fulfi lled was to be able to work with something he loved. The second is to get involved with a Town Hall and be granted at least a hundred olive trees, which he would then carve and invite school children to see and play around, to appreciate the art and natural environment —as well as anyone else who would like to see them; where the trees are now is a family home, but it would be wonderful to share this experience with more people. It is quite surprising to find out that Chico has only been carving for the last four years, and has only had his shop open for a year and a half. He has already made such an impact on the area. The last time we went to visit his shop he was waiting for a national Spanish TV station to come and interview him. It is even more important in these times of doom and gloom to find people like Chico who are creating magic for everyone to see and touch, and spreading smiles around. To see him fi lled with passion for what he is creating is a wonderful thing. And long may it continue. P.S.: No trees were harmed in the making of the sculptures!
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photography by Tracy Marshall
Raices de Ronda Talla y Escultura sobre racies de Olivo Chico Andrades Plaza Mondragón, nº9 Tel: 952878534 29400 RONDA (Malaga) 615433783
www.raicesderonda.es chicoandrades.artelista.com APRIL–MAY 2009
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Sally,
BarkRite, and the Fortune Cookie by Richard Kendall
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ally was a very talented actress, and while confident in her acting abilities, she had little confidence when it came to making decisions. As a result, she was always running to psychics for answers. Sally would become particularly agitated when questions arose concerning her career, and on those occasions it was not unusual for her to consult with two or three psychics before taking any action. One Sunday morning Sally received a call from her agent regarding a television commercial she had auditioned for earlier in the week. He was pleased to inform her that from a large pool of actresses she was the one chosen to introduce to the world a new brand of dog food called BarkRite. While not exactly the kind of part an actor dreams of, commercials could prove quite lucrative, and exposure in the entertainment business was vital to furthering one’s career. This type of a decision was a no-brainer, and Sally told her agent to call back the BarkRite folks and tell them whenever they were ready to start shooting she would be available. An added plus was the fact that the commercial was going to be shot in New York City not far from where Sally lived, so it was one of those instances where everything seemed to fall into place. But as they say, the plot thickens. Later that week there was a message on Sally’s answering machine. It was from her agent, and all he would say was that he had some REALLY BIG NEWS. Sally called back immediately. The news was that through one of his contacts on the west coast he was able to arrange an audition for her; but this time we weren’t talking about a dog food commercial. This was an audition for a major motion picture! Though the part would be relatively small, even a minor appearance in a major motion picture could jump-start one’s career. Her agent also found out that the only other actress being seriously considered for the part kept pushing for a bigger role, in the process creating friction between herself and the producer. Sally was just about to shout hooray, the word resting on the very tip of her tongue, when she realized there was just one little hitch. The audition for the movie was scheduled for the same day that the dog food commercial was slated to begin. While it would be
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possible to call the people at BarkRite and explain the situation to them, Sally was afraid that if she asked them to postpone shooting for even one day, they might decide to replace her with someone else. She knew from experience that fi lming schedules were not to be tampered with lightly. Her gut feeling was to go to California and audition for the movie, but Sally had little faith in her own instincts. The next morning before her coffee had even finished brewing, Sally was busy on the phone setting up appointments with no less than four psychics. Relying on just one for such an important decision didn’t seem wise. She posed the same question to each of them before they began: Should she shoot the BarkRite commercial as originally planned, or should she go to California and audition for the movie? Angela, the first psychic Sally visited, used ordinary playing cards to do her readings. When she turned over the Jack of Spades who faces east, Angela said this was a clear indication that the best course of action would be to stay close to the east coast and follow through with the BarkRite commercial. Tony, the next psychic Sally consulted, worked with tea leaves. Tony told her the way the leaves were extending toward the edges of the teacup meant that venturing outward would produce favorable results, and encouraged her to go to California and audition for the movie. So the score was now tied: BarkRite: 1, California Audition, 1. Next up was Paula, who specialized in astrology. Paula pointed out that with Mars moving into Pisces and Saturn coming within one degree orb of her Moon, travel at this time should definitely be avoided. The psychic scoreboard now read BarkRite: 2, California Audition, 1. Maria, the last psychic on Sally’s list worked with Tarot cards. Maria shuffled the cards like an expert poker dealer and placed them face down on the table in front of her. Sally held her breath as Maria reached down very slowly, as if some divine influence was directing her hand, guiding it through some invisible tunnel that only Maria had access to. One could almost feel the tension in Sally’s body as Maria started to turn over the card that, in Sally’s mind, might hold within its four corners the entire fate of her acting career. The card Maria turned over was the Eight of Wands. This card displays the ship Argo in full sail, signifying an auspicious time for travel. The score was now deadlocked: BarkRite: 2, California Audition: 2, with Sally stuck in the middle.
Later that evening Sally went out with friends for Chinese food. As she broke open her fortune cookie her heart raced a bit; perhaps the fortune cookie might provide the definitive answer and break the 2–2 tie. The fortune cookie contained the following message: “Now is a good time to trust your own instincts.” Great, Sally sarcastically thought to herself, I’m in desperate need of an answer and this is what I get.
After a few days of agonizing over which way to go, she decided to stick close to home and do the BarkRite commercial. So that was that. Well… not quite. The night before the BarkRite commercial was to be shot, Sally’s agent called sounding totally frantic. He was speaking so fast it took a minute or two to piece together the details but the bottom line was this: The actress who was up for the part Sally was going to audition for had a falling out with the producer and they parted company. If Sally was willing to fly out to California tonight, or tomorrow morning at the latest, the producer would still let her audition for the part. While it was not one hundred percent guaranteed she would get it, circumstances were very much pointing in that direction. So what did Sally do? Since you were curious enough to ask I will tell you. Sally did not fly out to the coast that evening, or the next day, or any other day for that matter. She was simply too stressed out to make travel arrangements to go anywhere. However, she did appear in the BarkRite commercial and earned a tidy sum of money for her efforts, though the commercial itself did little to advance her career. The movie was an entirely different story. Nominated for five Academy Awards, the publicity surrounding the movie was massive. Local media clamored to interview anyone and everyone involved. In fact, the actress that played the part that Sally had the chance to audition for was offered a much larger part in the producer’s next movie. And regarding that little message in the fortune cookie about trusting one’s own instincts, those words fell on deaf ears. Like a silent messenger whose voice was never heard, a great opportunity on many levels was sadly lost. It is often said that a short time after eating Chinese food one is hungry again. I have no idea where or how this concept originated, and also don’t know whether the same applies to eating a bowl of BarkRite. But what I do know is that Sally’s hunger for seeking answers from others never abated, ensuring that the bank accounts of the psychics she went to would be full for a very long time.
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La Roue de Fortune, photography by Elikozoe
The CMPC Family Amusement Park Grand Opening of the Diversity University Attraction by Sharon Mendenhall I received a brochure and a letter in the mail this morning letting me know that the Grand Opening of the Diversity University Attraction in the New Shift Ride Pavilion is this afternoon, and I have been specially invited to be one of the first group of passengers.
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his is the first full ride of the Shift that is now completely operational. I’ve also been asked to critique the attraction, and submit both that, and any additional comments I may have regarding my initial experience to their main webpage at shiftride.com. It’s an attractive four-color slick brochure with photographs and a map. From the main entrance of the CMPC picnic grounds, immediately turn left after entering the House of Mirrors. Jump on the slide, and you will be deposited in the lobby of the Diversity University Attraction, gentleness or non-gentleness not withstanding. The photographs are of the lobby area, since the actual ride itself is unphotographable. The lobby is very tastefully done, with a marble foyer and large comfortable overstuffed couches. There will be a live jazz band and fabulous foods prepared by the CCU’s finest chefs at the reception. Professor Tolerance, Ph D, Department Head and Designer, Ms. Pollyanna, M A, Valedictorian of the first graduating class of the University, and her associate, Mr. Fear, and Ms. Acceptance Of Self, Chairwoman of the University
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Support Association, will be attending. Formal dress is not required. My first critique was of that damn slide. There are no brakes on the slide. I discussed it quite readily with the CCU butler that tried to catch me, but missed. He was very apologetic, and offered to replace the heel on my shoe immediately. I told him it was not necessary, since I had been working extensively with my shoe beliefs lately, and my shoes didn’t even match. He insisted on taking care of the problem, and presented me with a set of matching suede slippers with a sheepskin lining that were four sizes too big, and both made for the left foot. It was perfect, except it did not go well with my long maroon sequined dress that had torn up the side, so he tied a tablecloth around my waist. I looked pretty stupid anyway, so he completed the ensemble with some silk flowers from out of a floral centerpiece that still had pieces of green Styrofoam attached. He said, “Sweetie, you look bitchin’,” and patted me a couple of times, then readjusted the knot on my linen shawl. I shuffled over to see Tolerance who also looked fetching in her fringed and tie-dye collection with the matching plastic beads that snap apart. She was wearing her very best set of rip-off Birkenstocks, which had been both painted and glittered, and wool socks. Tolerance was to give a speech, but she had forgotten her dollar store glasses, perhaps on purpose. Pollyanna gave an impromptu speech instead. This is the first time I had the opportunity to hear what a Pollyanna would say, and I was impressed. Pollyanna talked about the ecology of the Earth, and the processes involved in returning the Earth to its nat-
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ural state. She reviewed what has already been learned about the natural balance of the Earth, and how applying the simple principle of reverence to everything on the Earth which contains consciousness, which of course is everything, will assist greatly in returning the Earth to its natural state. She explained the principle of balance through diversity, and how every one and everything has an individual purpose, and the destruction of one item sets off a chain reaction like a domino. She also clarified how applying the principle of reverence will increase the empowerment of an individual, rather than diminish it, but because presently reverence has been assigned very little value, it takes courage to begin applying the principle of reverence. As she spoke, I realized that Pollyanna was a personification of the principle of reverence, because she applied the principle first to herself, and then to others as a natural by-product. Presently, the principle of reverence is not given much respect, so neither is Pollyanna, because she has a natural self-empowerment that makes others, who are seeking outside sources of power, uncomfortable in her presence. I thought about the image of the budding orchard, and how every sapling no matter how straight, or how bent, would be reminded that their only purpose was to stand up straight and tall whenever Pollyanna was near. Because I had gotten off on a mental tangent, I missed portions of Pollyanna’s speech, but I did know that her speech would be printed and available on the shiftride.com website, so I wasn’t worried about taking notes. Pollyanna introduced Professor Tolerance to the audience, and explained how Tolerance got the idea for
the ride during the “Make Love Not War” sixties. Then everyone stood up to give Tolerance a standing ovation, and the doors to the ride flung open, and we all formed a line and entered. The ride looks similar to a circular auditorium with metal theater seats on the outside facing towards the center. Pollyanna helped everyone into his or her assigned seat, and explained that it was up to each of us whether we wanted to be strapped in or not. If someone said they wanted to be strapped in because of Fear, Fear was right there to tell them that he had nothin’ to do with it, as it was entirely their choice. Pollyanna walked over to a panel next to the exit door, pushed a button that dimmed the lights to total darkness, said something about have fun, and then exited through the door. Nothing happened for a few seconds, but no one spoke, although a few people coughed. I was thinking about how I wanted to mentally record every aspect of this ride, because in the blackness it would be impossible to take notes. Then the room started to spin, or I started to spin in the room, I’m not quite sure how it worked. All I know is that instantly everyone in that room was instrumental in keeping the balance, because the least little variation in attitude would cause the spinning to increase to the point of intolerance. I’ve never taken acid, but this reminded me of what I’ve read about psychedelics. Besides an extreme intensity of color and sound vibrations, there was a breakthrough as though to the very core of essence, to the point that I felt I actually touched the face of God. The way I knew it was God, was because everyone kept saying, “Oh God!” Incidentally, God looks exactly like me. The secret to this ride,
is for everyone to stand up straight and tall, and then the ride stops, but it takes a while to figure that out, something that seems like an eternity. When the ride did finally cease, Pollyanna was right there to turn the lights back on and help everyone to the exit. I heard a lot of “Thank ya, thank ya very much, Ms. Polly,” as people limped out. As for me, I just shuffled. I have completed my full critique of the ride, which consists of only one sentence. Oh, like wow, man!
E-Motion Ride I just heard about the next Shift Ride that they are planing to open soon, although I could swear it’s been operating for a while, because I remember taking some type of similar ride before. I think they called it “The Menopause.” Anyway, this is similar to one of those virtual motion rides where you get in, but you don’t go anywhere, because it’s on a bunch of hydraulic jacks, and it just bounces you around for a while. But it’s pretty effective, because when you’re done you will think you have been a lot of places. This ride is supposed to take you through all the states, every one of them. I don’t know if it’s in alphabetical order, or what order. Maybe it’s from the State of Happy to the State of Sad and back again. It’s not a very long ride, but it will seem like a lifetime, or perhaps yesterday. What you do is get into this container, and then your own Beliefs will shake that container as hard as they can, just like it was on hydraulic jacks, and you’ll bounce
photography by Tracy Marshall
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around, and go through all the states one right after another. And while you’re doing that, there will be some type of projection on the screen in front of you that will project images of the state you are in. I have no idea how they do that, but I understand it can play with your mind. I still have this feeling though, like I’ve been there, done that.
The Shift Rides Emotional Roller Coaster / Duplicity Balancing Act / Spinning Fast Carousel First of all, is the magnificent Roller Coaster of Emotion Ride. This one sneaks up on you, because it takes a while to realize you are even on it. But the funny thing about it, is that once you get an image of yourself in that little metal car, speeding down the transition track, and holding tightly to the bar, there is nothing more to understanding this ride. It’s just motion forward, up and down. Slowly up, click, click, click. Then free fall, bottom out, and do it again. It’s fun to contemplate that next time you might just throw your hands up into the air, relax and enjoy the ride while screaming the entire time. I paint this ride yellow. Then there is the Duplicity Balancing Act. This one is pretty cute, like a see-saw. Take any belief, and put its opposite ends on each side. Then run back and forth between them. When you head for one side it bottoms out, and the other side fl ips up into the air and gets a good jolt. This is fun, but tiring. To relax, just sit in the exact middle for a while and give it a rest. Then there is the famous Spinning Fast Carousel, whose only purpose is to make you dizzy. The faster one spins, the greater the tendency to feel out of control, and the need to hold on tightly. But eventually you will slide towards the outer edge, and maybe even have to let go due to the centrifugal force. Then you’ll go flying out in any direction and land face down in the mud. Might even get bumped on the head, cry and scream out loud, whine or finger point. But this is all acceptable, as it seems this is the only way to get off this ride. I don’t much like this ride, and I can never figure out how I get on it in the first place.
Petting Zoo Over in Animal-Land of the CMPC Family Amusement Park, is the Petting Zoo section. This contains the Big Barking Dog exhibit, the Giant Hamster Wheel, the Dead Mouse Toss, and the colossal Birds’ o’ Belief cage. This is a very boring section and not what I would classify as an E-ticket ride. First of all, you must notice the black sign with the big yellow block letters that states quite emphatically, “Do NOT feed. These things BITE.” I run on the hamster wheel occasionally, for the exercise I tell myself. And then I’ll toss the mouse around if I can get to it, but normally it’s real crowded in there. I do like to sneak over to the birdcage and go in, because it’s never closed. I jump up and down and flap my arms like a lunatic, hoping to scare some of the birds out. However, some are way too roosted to be disturbed by my crazy antics. I’m thinking about shooting those ones right in the bird butt, to get em moving. All in all, I don’t spend a lot of time in the Petting Zoo now, primarily because the goats are always trying to eat my purse. I like to wander over to Calliope’s Merry-Go-Round and ride upon the fantasy for a while. Just something about the merry-go-round that attracts me, and always has. I think it just might be my favorite.
House of Mirrors / Tunnel of Love / Transition Train I had forgotten that one can’t even get to the CMPC Family Amusement Park, without going through the House of Mirrors first. I always get lost in the House of Mirrors, like I think those mirrors are distorted, and not really me. I don’t look like that. But it’s fascinating the way I move. I like to stick out my tongue, or turn and wiggle my butt. Every way I turn there is either a reflection of me, or an invisible wall to bump into. It takes a lot of “feeling around,” to get through the House of Mirrors, like a blind person learning to manipulate through the maze. Me using a different set of tools to move forward, one of touching and feeling. And then there is that confounding Tun-
nel of Love. Who gets that there is only one seat on that vehicle that takes you through a deep dark tunnel, of nothing but deep dark tunnel? There is no one to love during that long trip, except maybe yourself. I suppose that is the point. After that entrance, I jump right onto the Transition Train for a speedy trip over to where I need to be in the NOW. The NOW is so interesting. Add a “k” for “o-kay” and it turns to KNOW. I love being on the KNOW NOW, makes me feel so in the moment, or momentum for a better definition. Yep, the Transition Train has a definite momentum to it, lulling if I wish it to be. A certain repetitive vibration that speaks, “You know you can, you know you can,” over and over. I chug along.
Mattersknott Mattersknott is in the epicenter of the CMPC Family Amusement Park, for it is the central focus of the park. It is a very tall mountain, somewhat fabricated like the Matterhorn at Disneyland. And it can be viewed from any position within the park. It stands as a reminder, and anyone who desires to climb it may do so for the very same reason climbers arduously scale high mountains, because it is there. Mattersknott is a central attraction, and the only reason one would exercise their ability to climb it, is not for the illusion of total enlightenment, but rather for the perspective that one has on its lofty precipice. From that pinnacle, everything below becomes insignificant. I plant my own flag upon the tippy top of Mattersknott, and invite you to join me in celebration.
The CMPC Family Amusement Park Shift Rides — WARNING — Due to the acceleration of the shift rides, issue cores are lying around everywhere. This may be due to the fact that an increased number of passengers are peeling away at the layers, getting down to the core issues, and then tossing them aside. We apologize for the inconvenience.
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Wave Pool
Tsunami Wave Pool.
The Wave Pool is a huge concrete structure similar to a gigantic swimming pool. At one end is a colossal wall that emits a lot of noise. This is the deepest end of the wave pool. From there, the bottom of the wave pool slants upwards towards the opposite end till it forms something like a beach.
Oh, and I forgot to tell you that I know about the next ride to open. It’s called the Tsunami Wave Pool. It’s similar to the other wave pool, except a whole lot bigger. It’s so big in fact that you and all your little Beliefs can surf. And you will want to be learning to surf, because option two is not that great. I mean, option two is where you stand on the beach and watch the tide go out for about 5 miles. And you then go “huh?” and while you are reaching over to pick up some dead fish, this big wave comes in and smacks your happy ass into the sand.
Everyone enters from the beach side, and splashes around in the calm waters. But every once in a while, a warning horn will sound, and then a huge wave will come out of the colossal wall and flow down the pool, knocking everyone over. I told Acceptance that at first I really enjoying going to the Wave Pool, but recently it seems as though those waves have been coming more often, and getting bigger. It isn’t always pleasant being knocked over by a huge wave. In fact, it pisses a lot of people off when that happens. I asked Acceptance if it was true, that the waves were building in both frequency and intensity. She told me that it wasn’t an illusion, it was building, especially with this new improved 2000+ model version. That on the other side of that colossal wall was a separate pool reserved for the Belief Camera Crewmembers. And that only the Invalidating and Discounting Beliefs are allowed to go in there. Since that pool is very deep, it has several diving boards. She said that the waves in the Wave Pool are caused by the agitated waters on the opposite side, and when it reaches a point of intense disturbance it splashes over into the Wave Pool. She also said that it seems that all the Invalidating and Discounting Beliefs are becoming very upset lately, and jumping into their pool is how they work off their frustrations. This is why the Wave Pool waves are building in both frequency and intensity, and it doesn’t seem as though this will change much in the near future. I told her I really didn’t appreciate the Wave Pool. Besides, I think that warning horn is broke, but she persuaded me to go anyway. And you know, if you go into the Wave Pool with Acceptance, it isn’t nearly as difficult. In fact, it turned into being quite an opportunity to enjoy myself for the afternoon. I learned to surf.
That just doesn’t sound like a whole bunch of fun to me, but I understand it is in the Shift Ride Booklet, and you have to take that ride whether you want to or not. They say it’s an E-ticket ride, but I would much rather have an A or B ticket ride, where I could just leisurely float down the lazy river in an inner tube, instead of getting my happy ass pounded into the sand. I’m planning to begin my surfing lessons, pronto.
Criticism Criticism is hard to handle. Unlike Encouragement who is always welcome, Criticism isn’t always easy to have around. Criticism has many faces, but the Criticism I know looks like a librarian. I’ve had a hard time with Criticism in the past, because it always seems like Criticism is talking directly to me, about me. That is because Criticism gets up close to my face, looks me right in the eye, squints a little, like she is putting on her Mascara, and prattles. So, I think she is talking about me, but recently I learned different. Acceptance told me so. Acceptance runs the House of Mirrors at the CMPC Family Amusement Park, and she has an office there, but no body has ever been able to find it, because it looks just like a mirror. Acceptance can watch everybody as they struggle through the House of Mirrors, and everybody has to struggle through the House of Mirrors first, in order to get to the party. At first no one can tell if there’s a mirror, or a window, or an entrance in front of them. It’s pretty funny.
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Anyway, Acceptance was telling me that Criticism was the first one that went through right after she changed the rules, and it was majorly comical. Criticism always seemed to use her nose, rather than her hands to get through, because she is nearsighted. She’d get up close, like she was blind as Mr. Magoo, and touch with her nose. But since now she can’t touch with anything physical, you can just imagine what a hard time she had.
A C
If you haven’t been through the House of Mirrors lately, you have a real surprise coming. Before, if you wanted to get through rather easily, you just stuck your hand out to see if there was something solid in front of you. But that has changed, as now you’re not allowed to use your hands. You have to practice using only your inner senses. Acceptance said this is being done in order to prepare everyone for the BIG Shift Ride. I don’t quite understand fully, but that’s what she said.
You could learn a lot about Criticism if you could watch her trying to get through the House of Mirrors using only her inner senses, because she has never used those senses very much in the past. She cusses a bunch. It sounds like she is in a bar on the waterfront. She goes, “Damn, shit, hell,” and so on, and takes almost forever for her to get through the maze.
by Anet Paulina
Criticism is used to talking to everything like it is a mirror, because for her it pretty much is. If you thought Criticism was talking about you, you were wrong, she is talking about herself. I did, I always thought she was talking about me.
Periodically I play an “appreciation game” and practice acknowledging people, things, events, and characteristics about myself that I truly am grateful for.
FREE OFFER!
I asked Acceptance if I could sit in her office and watch, because I use to hate Criticism, but I don’t think Acceptance will allow me do that. But just visualizing Criticism trying to get through the new House of Mirrors is almost enough to cause me to change my mind about Criticism. I still don’t like her, however.
You NOW have the ability to visit the Multi-Dimensional Timesharing Hotel and Casino, on the periphery of the Shift Ride. They are NOW offering “The Present” as a gift to anyone who is willing to visit prior to the official grand opening. This free introductory offer is available to any actor and at least two of the actor’s alternates. Every space comes complete with a wide view of this particular dimension. All space is shared and interconnected, but veiled by some really nice velvet curtains to retain purity. However, you may draw them back for a short period. To take advantage of this special offer, call on Imagination, at 1-800-FAN-TASY for an
s u o t i u ri c
effortless dream-like holiday of pleasure and fun. This is a fantastic opportunity for becoming familiar with the creative elegance of multi-dimensional timesharing. (This is not multi-level marketing. No salesperson will call.) If you have any problems on account of your reservations regarding space arrangements, Imagination will be able to help you with that also, or else direct your call. All space is based on triple or higher occupancy. Offer available only in the State of Relaxation. Good Monday Thru Sunday. Ease keys will be supplied upon request.
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Route to
Appreciation
R
ecently I found myself making a mental list of things I appreciated, acknowledging the benefi ts derived from each. The appreciation game always lifts my spirits, but this time I was surprised to notice I was feeling almost euphoric. I reviewed the list of things I was appreciating, hoping to find a clue as to why I was more strongly affected than usual. I appreciate my plump Slovak cheeks. In my youth, I despised the “fat face” that made me unphotogenic and was incongruous with my thin body. If I could have selectively lost weight in my face, I definitely would have done so! What I did not realize at the time is that facial fat naturally diminishes over the years, and having a fair amount of it to start with makes a mature person look younger. From my present perspective, I view my Slovak cheeks as a blessing. I appreciate the relationship debacle that was so sudden and extreme that it felt like being hurled off a cliff onto jagged rocks. Three weeks before we were to move to a new location together, my fiancé (who had a history of instability I had conveniently disregarded in our short-but-intense liaison) abruptly ended our relationship for no apparent reason and completely stopped communicating with me. Rather than encasing me in emotional scar tissue, the experience catapulted me onto a path of personal growth so profound that I am scarcely the same person I was two years ago. I appreciate breaking my arm. Fracturing my left radial bone in a freak accident a few years ago provided experiential proof that I could handle intense physical pain without prescription drugs, adapt easily to a temporary disability, and recover from a significant injury quickly and completely. It also gave me insight into the value of recognizing that I need to make major life changes rather than creating a traumatic “wake up call.”
I appreciate having had anorexia nervosa. The hell of starving myself to skeletal proportions when I was 19 years old has provided me (a person who rarely drinks alcohol and has never used recreational drugs) the ability to understand the challenges of people who struggle with addictions and substance abuse problems. It also gave me the confidence that I can bounce back from emotional illness and helped me be more accepting of others who are dealing with such issues. It dawned on me that the difference in the appreciation game this time was that everything I was acknowledging and appreciating was something I once considered terrible! Allowing myself to see the value in “negative” manifestations was affecting me more profoundly than my usual practice of appreciating “positive” things. All the manifestations I was appreciating were things that —at the time they were occurring— I was 100 percent sure I did not want. I cannot count the number of times in my teens that I looked in a mirror, sucked in my cheeks, and wished my face were thinner. When the relationship in which I had invested all my hopes and dreams disintegrated overnight, all I wanted was for things to return to the way they had been a week earlier. Lying on the sofa with a newly broken arm, I wished repeatedly that I could go back a few hours and choose not to put myself in the situation that resulted in the injury. Weighing 75 pounds and afraid to eat a meal, I just wanted to be normal again. There was no ambivalence in my feelings about any of the situations when they were happening; I was suffering and wanted things to be different. But now, from the vantage point of years or decades later, I realize that I would not erase any of those painful experiences even if I could —each brought with it great gifts.
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Exploring the idea further, I recognized that for every past “negative” manifestation I could think of, I could identify at least one significant benefi t I derived from it. If nothing else, the experience proved I could survive a difficult situation and allowed me to understand and empathize with others who are dealing with similar challenges. In addition, the experiences helped me learn about myself, becoming aware of my characteristics and preferences in ways I might not be cognizant of otherwise. After having this insight, I noticed that when I would start thinking about something I did not like or was struggling with, my reaction was different from what it typically had been. Rather than following my habitual route of thinking I would be happy if only things were different, I found myself viewing the undesired manifestation as a gift I simply had not yet recognized the value of. In some cases, I began picking up clues as to what its purpose might be and how I could start reaping the benefi ts. Most importantly, I stopped resisting and opposing the manifestation (which only serves to perpetuate and strengthen it). If every “negative” situation I have experienced has in fact been a blessing, perhaps I can trust that the undesirable things in my life now — those I most want to change — are actually beneficial! When a bad thing happens, I can believe that (regardless of how terrible it may seem at the time) there is a gift in it for me. How do I know this? Because I have decades of experience that prove it is always true. And, I would postulate, the same applies to everyone reading these words.
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Messages
from George
by Sheila Greer
M
y ex husband died on December 11, 2008. We were divorced for twenty-two years but several years ago I spoke candidly with him about the past, about no longer wanted to hold on to the bitterness that had been the fruit of our divorce and about forgiving. It was very freeing that conversation and ever since we had a silent mutual understanding and friendship. He had moved on to marry two more times and I, once more. Understandably his passing stirred up some old almost forgotten memories and affections and I didn’t know quite how to grieve over him since after all we had not been husband and wife for a long time. Over the weeks that my family was trying to come to some kind of acceptance that he was really gone, I began to function on autopilot. I would be going about my days in my normal manner and there would sometimes just be a sudden wave of realization that would wash over me and it would take my breath away with the significance of the fact that he was indeed gone. And I found myself missing him more than I had expected I would. Then I received the “messages.” One such message that I didn’t understand at the time was that I saw one day while I was primping in front of my mirror, the image of a smiling face behind me. It was but a split second. One of those times when you dismiss what you think you see until sometime during the day you recall the moment and clarity rings in your spirit. It was him! But the image I saw in the mirror was feminine. It was however the same smile that my ex husband was famous for. As I began to think about this image and wonder at its significance, I had a recall of a time in my childhood. I remembered being at a funeral with my Grandmother and laying asleep in her lap. I remember waking up and seeing at the front of the church a movie screen. I might have been in a dream state because there was no movie screen at that church. On this screen was an image of my cousin who was the same age as me with whom I was very close. The dream disturbed me all of my life because I couldn’t sort it out and I wondered why my cousin’s image appeared to me that way at a funeral, smiling her big smile. More memories came flooding back and I remembered the many times I would awaken in the night lying beside my husband and feel the warmth from his body and listen to him breathe and get the feeling that he was not my husband at all but my cousin! Try and sort that one out.
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During these flashes of memory I began to see that my ex husband was with me in a previous life as my little sister and she had died very young. The image I saw on the movie screen was not my cousin but the memory of the face of my sister. It just happened that my cousin resembled her. This first message that came from my ex husband was a reminder to me of our relationship in that focus. The second message from him came through my eight-year-old granddaughter. I drive her to school for her Mom every day and a couple of weeks ago we were on our way when she began to speak about her Paw Paw. She was chattering away at me about her Paw Paw being a star in the heavens and about how he talked to her again and told her to tell me he loves me and misses me and then told me others in the family that he was supposedly sending messages to. And then she said a name I’d never heard and I asked her who this person was. She just got this furrowed brow and said she didn’t know but that Paw Paw missed him too. His name was George and since my ex’s middle name was George I just assumed that she had heard that before. I simply listened and responded with “how nice” and again asked her who is George. She didn’t know and then suddenly she said “his name is George Martin.” After dropping her off at school and heading back to the house I decided I needed to know who George Martin might be. So I googled the name. One I found was a football player whom last year walked across this country raising money for families of the 9/11 attack. The other George Martin was the producer for the Beatles. The very first YouTube video that I “accidentally” fell upon was the song, In My Life. The article that I read about it this song stated that it was probably the best song according to critics that the Beatles had ever written! I listened to the words and it gave me goose bumps. All my life I have been listening to their songs and not once do I remember anything more about this song other than the very catchy tune. This is the song and I got the message through these words from George loud and clear.
“There are places I’ll remember All my life though some have changed Some forever not for better Some have gone and some remain All these places have their moments With lovers and friends I still can recall
Some are dead and some are living In my life I’ve loved them all But of all these friends and lovers There is no one compares with you And these memories lose their meaning When I think of love as something new Though I know I’ll never lose affection For people and things that went before I know I’ll often stop and think about them In my life I love you more.” 1 To me these messages have been a great comfort in missing a person who has been such a big part of my life. It does more than that. It confirms more than I’ve ever been aware of before now how eternal Love really is. Love has no beginning and it has no end. Love is the Alpha and the Omega. Love and the connections it creates are never severed, they are never disconnected.
1 • In My Life, written by John Lennon and Paul McCarthy and produced by George Martin.
Send her to me Rainwater, fall, disperse, squirt, silent. Night hand, touch, vote. Rain man, mannequin. Warm car, soar, fly, fold, foam, faint. Fan, farm, fillicious filling. Full vote. Santer san si sev sal simply the equation. Beyond belief, fill me up with your questions. Intend to believe. Semper fidelis – forever faithful for the farm on the coast in the fields. Tenderness still lingers on her face with voluptuous her dress her makes. Send her down to the mill, She can pick up the change. Still the rain falls. It comes down torrents upon her face. The void can be complete, can be filled, can be gapped, can be reached, can be crossed. Send her to me. I will teach her.
Tom Sherlock
Stone Spirit Beneath Half Moon, art by Rick Daddario
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Groovy Thinking by Dick Richardson
photography by Jean-Baptiste Duret
http://www.psychognosis.net
I invented a term once: ‘Groovy Thinking’. This meant thinking that was so stuck fast in a narrow groove of intransigence that it could not get out of that groove, and the deep furrows on each side if it had it really boxed in and it could not see beyond the horizon of those ridges which surrounded it, and it slept there in idyllic bliss of ignorance. This took two forms: Extreme religiosity on the one hand and extreme hard core materialist outlook on the other. They are both the same thing —inertia, intransigence, closed minded— boxed in thinking and observing. However, I found that real learning came ONLY when I stood in awe of the existence of things and stopped thinking for a while, and when I stopped thinking on occasions I found that other stuff could get in —revelations of teaching which did not come whilst I was engaged in thinking. And I thought hells bells, that is sure worth thinking about. So I did, and I learned quite a lot. I also learned that revelation equated with revolution, and the evolution of my awareness and understanding of things, and understanding of myself.
I also found that I could not really know what was ‘out there’ until I had come to know the real me ‘in here’. For I could not know that which I was not until such time that had come to learn what I was; what I AM. The knowledge of SELF in essence. As it is in Eternity. Do not let time erase that which is done in Eternity. So be it. I found that existing taught one, sometimes slow and sometimes fast, but the job is getting done gradually, and one moves on from the darkness of ignorance into the light of understanding, and at the pace which one restricts ones self to by volition. Let go of the self and go with the flow; and the flow will reveal the self and that which is not the self. It is not difficult to let go.
“There is no stairway up to heaven — there is a slide down to it”
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Oh Mutter Clutter
O
h would that my brain could be Clutter and mutter free
photography by Marguerite Duret
Oh what bliss to wander through Empty, dusty, musty rooms; Voices echoing off cracked bare walls; Comforting, empty halls. Thundering choices tearing at me. Oh forever more Let me be!
from Quiet Reflections, by Sheila MacGregor http://tinyurl.com/quiet-reflections
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z photography by Eric Lo Chen Hoon http://chyanneinc.multiply.com/
In Painted Seasons‌ Authentic someone Thinking about Another flying harmonic disclosure Preparing reasons Pervasive and layered After the death of Underscored profiles To what do we owe This body of work? Restless wings devoted to heresy Tense beauty Of the visible collective In painted seasons It will open.
Kenneth McSween
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z
A call to magical reality Scurry from the furrows you forces of hilarious serendipity. I’ve seen the way you hide on the corners of life, just out of sight from the others.
k b
But I notice. I’ve seen the way you twinkle at me through the shadows in the bushes, and talk to me through the animals and the way you show me your love as you caress me with your breeze. What ethereal reins hold science so rigidly placed, but the stringed instruments of magic? I’ve sensed the way you are realler than real. The more I give in to your rainbow pleasures, the more I walk on clouds.
i
Alex Baranosky
http://meaningfuldialog.myfreeforum.org
photography by Sheila Greer
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For the Love of the Frog Girl by Faro King
photography by valho – http://toysworkz.valiantho.com
This is not a typical love story. It is a tale of a one-sided unrequited love between an almost-three-yearold boy and a much older woman, an amazing creature known to me only as Frog Girl.
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I
only met the frog-girl one time and never saw her again, but I never forgot about her my entire life. I doubt that she remembered me in the moment of time that passed by after our meeting.
It was in the fall of the year, I recall. As I look back to that time, I now know, it was in late October. There was a big flurry of activity at home and my mother was busy making dozens and dozens of orange or black frosted cupcakes for the school Harvest Festival. I do remember that she was concerned about making half of them with black frosting. She was looking for some method that hopefully would not turn the inside of the children’s mouths black, but that was not possible. It was rather amusing, even at my level of understanding. Now you must keep in mind, I was a soon to be three year old, and I was thinking as a three year old. I thought having a black mouth was desirable. I was also lusting after the big bags of tiny black cats, jack-o’-lanterns and witches —plastic cake toppers that had arrived days earlier from The Oriental Trading Company.
chocolate frosting and then adding an entire small vial of blue food coloring to it. We kids all hung around in the kitchen hoping for free samples and we ultimately got it after promising to wash all the dishes afterward.
Unless you know exactly how to make it, black frosting is not so easy to accomplish and my mother was and is a perfectionist about such details. Finally, after consulting with three of the neighborhood ladies, Bet, Pat and Dot, they got it together. They succeeded after making dark
The next thing I can recall about the day I met the Frog Girl is, we were in the school’s old (smelly) cafeteria, setting up our table and game. My dad had made a big plywood facade with several holes of differing sizes cut in it with a skill saw, and mom had painted it up on one side with funny colorful
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There were other unusually exciting things going on at home as well. My oldest brother, who never liked to do anything the rest of us were doing, was having a fi t over having to get dressed up like a beat nick. Mother was lighting a kitchen match and burning a cork stopper with it, in order to make some lampblack for a beard and moustache for him. He was spewing his nine year old’s brand of petty hate but allowing her to make him up anyway. He had the lead part in a stage play at the festival.
For the Love of the Frog Girl, continued from page 35
animals, using the holes for their mouths. She and a neighbor lady friend had also made piles of cloth bean bags which were fi lled with dried peas or pinto beans. The prize at our set up was the cupcakes that mom had made. So, I was instructed to sit on the inside seat at the table, and to keep my fingers out of the cupcake icing, and just “be quiet.” I think that I used to talk an awful lot back then, and probably now, too. But, I saw frog-girl when she first entered the auditorium. I did not know that frog-girl was an actual human female. All I saw and recognized was a wonderful frog creature walking on two legs with a great big smiling face. I could not take my eyes off that frog! To make my life even more enchanted than it already was that night, frog-girl and friends Casper the Ghost and Minnie Mouse were headed directly toward ME! I was most likely sitting there in awe, mouth hanging agape, staring at wonderful green human sized frog. When frog-girl and her entourage of friends got close enough, she asked the lady with her if she could have a cupcake from my table! (I was likely bouncing up and down by now) and my mom gave frog-girl a nice orange cupcake with a black cat on top. Frog-girl sat down on the bench at the other side of my table, and with her back to me, I could see a long blonde pony tail in the back. I had NO idea frogs could grow such long ponytails! Then, this wonderful frog turned toward me and lifted up the frog face… and there was a GIRL inside froggie! She had to be so much older than I, at least seven, maybe eight years old. This did not scare me as much as it did intrigue me. I was almost three years old and had not seen costumes before, not that I could remember, anyway. I know that I stared at Frog-girl for as long as three or four minutes while she ate the cupcake my mother had made, and then she and her grown up got up and walked away. I never saw her again that night, and never knew who she was. I don’t think the girl was much more than a vehicle for something much greater than either she or myself. Because I never forgot that costume, or that feeling of the weird unknown, when something spell binding comes into your life and changes it forever. That night, I became one of THEM… the Autumn People.
Y’know The only attachment I have to this here earth Is gravity Not that I’m anxious to leave it I just don’t want to be constantly stuck to it Like a gnat on flypaper I don’t want to be stuck HERE When there are so many THERE’s to be THERE
’s both concrete and ethereal I want to scratch my name and Leave my footprint in the concrete Then sail off into the Insubstantial Returning to favorite places and people At will Inhabiting the best of dreams Bouncing off clouds And sliding down rainbows Ending up in my favorite easy chair. And giving myself back To gravity. Till the next time.
bob strating
Later I asked my mother if she had seen the big frog. She said that she had been too busy to notice anyone like I described to her. But through much “research” and watching and listening to the older kids, I learned much. Every year without exception, I searched for her, never again seeing or hearing about a Frog-girl. I also became a big fan of costumes… and about the world of illusion. Maybe you’re born with it —maybe it’s Halloween.
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Got interesting websites you want to share with us? Send your selection to wisp.ezine@gmail.com
http://www.futureme.org/ Send your future self an email
The
A selection of websites to broaden your horizons!
Pearls from the Surf
http://www.grahamhancock.com A selection of unusual news items.
A round-up of unusual news items.
Nature of Synchronicity
by Scott Rabalais http://www.spiritsouth.net
Patience is good. Synchronicity is better.
P
atience can be defined as bearing or enduring without complaint. It is the act of “giving time” to that which will come to fruition. It is the hope of things to come. Note that patience implies the waiting game, that is, “I don’t have it now, but with time it will come to me.” For example, suppose I have plans to work in my garden this morning. However, a storm has appeared and the weather prohibits me from tending to the garden. I can say to myself, “I will be patient and in due time I will be able to work in my garden.” And wait I will. And I can easily become anxious, as I sit and watch the weather pass by, waiting, waiting and waiting furthermore. On the other hand, synchronicity is that which knows no waiting or enduring. It recognizes that all is complete in the moment. It provides all in this very moment. It knows there is a perfect time and place for all, and one who experiences synchronicity knows of the harmony between the person and the completeness of the moment. One in synchronicity is not waiting for the rain to stop so that the garden may be tilled, but instead appreciates the rain in all its splendor, along with the situation that it creates in the moment. Instead of tending to the garden, the fall of the rain may give me reason to sit down and write a letter to an old friend. So rather than focusing on what could be done, I instead focus on that which is in the moment and what is given to me irrespective of my plans or wishes.
Fluid Action, art by Brihte
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http://www.dailygrail.com
From a separation consciousness point of view, patience is that which fills the chasm of time. From the position of now, I project that I want something to occur that is currently in the position of later. There is a chasm —between the present and the future. That is the “reality” of time that we create in our heads, and yet time is not real. Or, it is real only so far as we construct it out of our separation consciousness. Synchronicity works in the now and only in the now. It is the result of full acceptance and allowance of 2009 life and its quality of flow. It is APRIL–MAY
born from the stillness of the mind, in listening to that which is brought to us by the universe. It is the natural flow of life, irrespective of our conditioning, our wants and our plans. When we drop the thinking, that which is beyond thought is allowed to manifest itself in our experience. And the quality of such manifestation is Perfection, is synchronistic and is divine. It’s getting out of the way for The Way. Synchronicity is the essence of unity consciousness, a quality of the natural flow of life. The flower blooms in perfect synchronicity with the natural elements of the sun, the water, the wind and the soil. It does not hope to bloom in the winter, nor does it have plans or wishes to bloom during the cold months. Instead, it lives in a synchronistic relationship with all elements in its experience and grows when it is best for it to be supported by the elements, and vice versa. It blooms at its perfect time, in harmony with that which surrounds it and interrelates with it. Patience is waiting. How can one be complete if one is waiting for that which is not yet evident? Even patient waiting is waiting. Like the passenger in the train station awaiting the arrival of his train, he may be on the constant outlook for the appearance of the train down the tracks. In his constant glances down the track, he is anxious and in desire of that which is not yet in his experiential field. Instead, he may have a seat on a station bench, taking pleasure in watching lilies sway in the field across the tracks. And as he does so, lo and behold, the train will come into his awareness in its own time. And it is in that moment he can bring his awareness to the arrival of the train. It is in the moment. Synchronicity is a gift of the universe, available to use in every moment. It is the subtle and sweet music of existence that we can hear if we only listen. If we attend only to the clamoring of our minds, we will be unable to manifest the harmonious flow of synchronicity from unity consciousness. Our dance to this synchronistic flow is experiential ecstasy. It is the effortless dance of the self with the universe.
Fear of Judgement Part 2
by Ken Shaw “We judge ourselves by what we feel capable of doing, while others judge us by what we have already done.” — Longfellow
T
his quote arrived in my inbox this morning, and I feel it is a perfect opportunity to re-visit this subject. My first article on the topic, in retrospect, appears to center around what others think of us, which is where this “fear of judgment” originates, in my opinion. However, no self-respecting meta-physicist would allow such a statement to be made without the obligatory acknowledgment that since we create our own reality, this “judgment” is actually a reflection of those we have placed upon ourselves. Whether you agree with this or not, it is a “truth” in my little corner of the world, because I prove it to myself daily.
The world, or as I’ve referred to it many times here, the ILLUSION that is life is no more than a facade, a stage, and simultaneously a giant mirror. It does reflect back to us exactly what we project… and expect. Though we’ve been taught from the earliest days of our lives to look “out” on the world, we should be teaching our children to look “in” instead. Once it becomes fully accepted as common knowledge throughout entire world, from the President of these United States, to the janitor at the largest corporation on earth that we have all been taught to see the world from the standpoint of a spectator, rather than as a creator of the so-called Future. that future will begin to look much different than it does today, and of this I am more than certain. Consider the “real” evidence that surrounds us constantly, please. Jesus Christ spoke continuously of the “Kingdom of God,” and very few of his day seemed to “get it.” Very few of this day get it, either. Just how often did he say that the Kingdom of God is within? Therein lies the difference between the proverbial “wise man” and the “fool.” Christ could have said “You must go back to the beginning of life (which is Birth) and revise the way you view yourself and the world “outside.” Think of yourself as the creator of your own future as you see the world unfold from within and the future will change before your very eyes.” But then they wouldn’t have gotten that either. In fact, with such a statement he would surely have been stoned to death long before they hung him on that tree.
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Fear of Judgement, continued from page 37
“I am certain that God is not a Dead White Male in the Sky” as Deepak Chopra states of the inferred belief of most “religions.” However this perspective is taught in every Sunday School in America and the world as the foundational “truth” of Christianity. Furthermore, the belief that the Bible is the irrefutable word of the creator, another foundational truth of Christianity, has restricted and confined the imaginations of every believer for well over two-thousand years, to the interpretations of their “leaders” rather than their OWN SPIRITS.
The story of Job, in the old testament, is another example of how we judge ourselves based on our capabilities (or on what we think our future will be) and others judge us by our accomplishments (or our past). However, again, the lesson is so simple that it evades almost all of us.
Still, to elaborate on Longfellow’s statement further, the point is that we “judge” the future by what we think of ourselves and our circumstance in this “NOW” moment, which is influenced enormously by how we think others are judging us… by our past accomplishments. By doing so, we “condemn ourselves” to a life of pain and suffering brought on solely by innate DOUBT and confusion, and we can never experience the true freedom of life referred to by Christ, and all his disciples, apostles, and devotees as the Kingdom of God. “Forgive them. They know not what they do.” Sooner or later world leaders must recognize and acknowledge openly that we’ve created the very things we’ve feared most… disaster, mayhem, collapse and failure! Are these things inevitable? Of course not!
His “friends” chastised him and accused him of offending God and that he should be contrite, fall on his knees and beg God to forgive whatever his sin was, since he was apparently oblivious as to the nature of his offense. Instead, he maintained that he’d been faithful to God all this time and that’s why he’d been blessed by him. Therefore he reasoned that this was temporary and most probably “a trial” that he must endure until he’d proven to God that his faith was genuine. In the end, however, he recognizes as he raises his voice to heaven that “WHAT I HAVE FEARED MOST HAS COME UPON ME.” Therein lies the lesson of Job… and his so-called sin.
Rather than looking at what lies ahead with caution and apprehension, overwrought with suspicion, dread, worry and yes, outright fear, we must individually and collectively come to the conclusion that it is our viewpoint that is the real problem. That perspective of fear and trepidation concerning the big question “What can possibly go wrong next?” can change if we individually and collectively recognize that the future is inside each and every one of us —individually and collectively— NOW, and turn off the mainstream’s thought patterns in our own minds. We could also turn off the damn TV which spews out its “doom & gloom” upon whomever will listen to it… and absorb it. Ask yourself instead “what wonderful new worlds can come of this current situation? I don’t know… but it is going to be VERY EXCITING!”
“Remember, even false beliefs will seem to be justified in terms of physical data, since your experience in the outside world is the materialization of those beliefs. So you must work with the raw material of your ideas, even while your sense data may tell you that a given belief is obviously a truth.” Seth, Session 615 Mirrors, photography by Tracy Marshall Madonne, photography by Elikozoe
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BeyondJudgment by Nancy Miller
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eality can “turn on a dime.” Change can occur in the field of human events through shifts in conscious awareness en masse, and then, as like-minded groups coalesce around more reasonable ideas, a chain reaction of causality —multiple layers of synchronized activity— can promote new outcomes and better global relationships. Hopefully we are on the cusp of such a change now. Most of us are counting on it.
But, contrary to the idea that the spread of individual enlightenment is behind such sudden forward movements of civilization, I’m convinced that this massive shift of awareness is more like a colony of ants responding collectively to threat —and in no way is related to individual ego transcendence. It is more of a “We’re all in this together!” group awareness, which allows a sudden breaking through of rational innovation, rather than being a product of true enlightenment at the individual level. And, while we can support it with our intentions, it will not necessarily provide personal breakthroughs of transcendence. I am not arguing that positive internal change has NOT occurred in multitudes of people or that our increasing connectedness has not allowed the present synergy to occur. But, the visionary ideas that surface after times of turmoil, because the masses are now feeling vulnerable and are therefore open to new leadership, has little to do with the daunting task of internal transformation of consciousness. Paradigm shifts simply occur based on a confluence of events in time, while the individual struggle with ego limitations appears to have little to do with the specific time in which we live. However, it has everything to do with the place. It seems, in fact, that changing the whole world is more easily achieved than changing our mind about our place in it. For that, the image of a wizard wielding a magic wand is more apt, but the idea of a final judgment can also provide a powerful and maybe necessary symbol. Not as mere psychological metaphor, i.e. an end to judging others (projecting our fears and defects) or judging Self to be deficient, but rather as a literal state of existence in which one has finally moved beyond the judgment of others altogether.
I offer this “skipping to the end,” only as food for thought. As an opportunity to think past the tedious daily transcendence —of selfobservation and witnessing the internal emotions and external effects of the ego, in order to consider for a moment or two, the personal goal of ascension to purpose. And also in the hope it may provide a proverbial “twig to hold on to” during this eventful time, as others naturally grab on to any steady hand, attempting to not be swept downstream in the tumultuous tide of change. Consider then for a moment, what would this state of awareness and physical experience consist of - to permanently exist beyond the potential of being judged? It would be highly individual of course, but we have to face the fact that such a reality cannot enter our experience until we are certain to recognize it, if and when it appears. That is the odd nature of perception and cognition, so a little contemplation is always required. And, our individual interests, passions and gifts —being so infinitely varied— also requires a very personal level of discernment that necessarily excludes others opinions. What we love is highly unique and abstract, and yet we live in a very real world that will appear limited from our ego’s perspective. So, while we can support each other on the journey back to being, when we are acquiring a sense of confidence in our abilities and natural gifts, each of us must make the final passage from this world to the next, entirely alone. It is our own personal cross (roads), and gathering the courage to “become all that we are capable of becoming” is a bit like “walking the plank” until that last step, when the universe supports us. What is that way of life? Beyond the “Last Judgment “ —of disapproval or approval of others— that is our rightful place, through which we are finally able to make a real contribution. What is that abstract experience we long for? The “truth that will set us free.” And, what is the physical construct of reality —our Kingdom of Heaven— that will demonstrate/manifest our personal ascension to being? Whatever that experience may be —that will allow us to finally surrender the ego fear of autonomy and old attachment to solace, once we have crossed the psychological threshold there is no turning back. We won’t even be tempted to turn back and risk being confined forever as that pillar of salt, because we are certain of who and what we are. We have moved psychologically beyond judgment and any need for a positive response from the world of others. And, now, we can literally “save the world” through simply being wholly authentic. Reunion with the divine, through which reality conforms to being, eternally exists as a potential in every moment and in every dimension of our life experience. Epiphanies are possible at any time on the journey, and we can be certain that although we are physical bodies in a physical construct, that this reality is both malleable and yet could not have happened without a purpose. Crossing the final threshold beyond the judgment of others, we will experience this ultimate purpose through simply being all that we are. And nothing more.
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The green Phoenix Function • Facilitates the transfer or exchange of energy between dimensions, facilitates bleed-throughs, helps you stay centered in yourself in the midst of change and movement. Families • Gramada, Tumold, Ilda Significance • This tile represents the expression of duality and change in our reality. Consciousness is never still, it is always in movement, always seeking new developments and expressions. The Green Phoenix represents the complementary elements that we encounter in all of our reality and that move in harmony with each other: objective consciousness and subjective consciousness, electrical energy and magnetic energy, male and female, worm hole and black hole… We tend to see them often as opposites but they are not —they complement each other. It also represents change and movement, the transformation of energy to create your physical expression. Like humming birds that rapidly flap their wings in order to maintain their position and feed on the nectar of their favorite plants, it shows that movement is a necessary element for us to create the illusion of stillness or immobility. Another aspect of this tile is the coordination point, the center point through which different realities intersect and can exchange or communicate.
find more on the tiles at jorid.elikozoe.net
Tile of the Month by Jean-Baptiste Duret This month’s tile holds a complex and subtle energetic pattern, and yet isn’t difficult to find around us. Learn more about what it has to tell you and how you can connect with it.
Interpretation • Its shape represents a worm hole (left feathers) and a black hole (the spiral and the sparks). The central axis is the representation of an anchor into your reality and/ or the energy exchange between different layers of consciousness. It is the manifested intention of your being and the creating power of self in the now. You naturally know where and when you are; time and space defined by our societies are just structures and tools made for ourselves —by ourselves— to help us interpret and translate more easily our experiences. As an advice • Whenever you find this tile, pay attention to your energy, your expressions and your motivations. If you feel off-balance and tired, it is because you’re compensating a natural movement of your energy in order to maintain the status quo. The more you try to compensate, the more you have to use energy to do so. Being still does not necessarily mean being relaxed, and not physically doing anything does not necessarily mean that you aren’t moving subjectively as well. All of this can translate as tension and fatigue. In paying attention to your reflection in your environment and to your energy, you will know what you are doing, what is your natural movement that you are trying to overcome. Allow yourself a clearer vision of the duality of your being and of your natural movements. Let go of your control; the changes seem so big only because you have been resisting them for so long. First appearance • February 2009 Other connections • Quetzalcóatl, humming bird, labradorite
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photography by Jean-Baptiste Duret
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Robotman’s Energy Exchange by Rob Arteman Goofenoff: You have questions?
Session 2 Goofenoff: Correct! These technologies are far beyond your present capabilities, however you provide a service to these other cultures in offering a type of inter-dimensional warehousing! Or more accurately expressed, as a type of belly button gathering lint technologies. However, we shall offer our own prediction for you. When you are able to achieve a vibrational match, which would allow this technology to become functional, the warranties will have expired!
Robotman: Yes, hello again professor! I have a VERY close friend named Marsandra Kanovich, (note: names have been changed to protect the innocent!) that has a question regarding some channeled material Robotman: I have been experiencing greater providing future predictions for the July 21st and July 22nd difficulty in concentrating lately. My reality of 2009. The prediction was that we would receive some almost seems to be less solid and real! type of radically new technology. Are you aware of this? Goofenoff: You, like many other individuals, are experiGoofenoff: We shall first address a slight distortion regarding encing, in your objectifying of the higher vibrational your impression of the relationship you are connecting qualities of the energy associated with this shift, a type with this other individual. What you are actually of lightness. The increased intensity and vibration are connecting with is a strong influence from a focus you affecting in how you project your perception. This has share with this individual within another dimension. the effect of making your reality seem thinner, less heavy and not as solid. Your focus in that dimension and the strong sense of attraction you are experiencing could be loosely translated Also more specifically to you, you are also experiencin this dimension as the gum stuck to the bottom of her ing greater influence from the synaptic activity of your shoe! Therefore the attraction you are experiencing is not imbecells creating a near perfect vacuum in your skull. how this individual experiences it. While these are her While this may result in some reduction of your big favorite shoes, she would choose to burn them rather then honkin' schnoz, it may, eventually, form into a black any possible contact with your focus in attempting to hole within your melon! remove you from them! I’m getting pretty good odds presently that your forehead Are you understanding? will cave in before 2012. Robotman: Yeah… So what you’re saying is that she doesn't really like my focus in that dimension, correct? Goofenoff: Somewhat grossly understated, but correct! Now, in addressing to her question regarding this particular energy exchange and the predictions offered I'll address this next. The information offered by the essence through this individual is somewhat distorted by the beliefs of the individual. The beliefs of this individual are distorting the original message because of this individual’s attempt in tricking the essence into providing investment tips. The distortions specific to the July 21st time frame are strongly influenced by the ending of two year interest free financing program! And the influence associated to the following day is for an alimony payment coming due! Robotman: So, I guess I’m a little confused… Goofenoff: No, REALLLY? Robotman: Yes! Well, I’ve watched the video many times and it sounds like he’s saying that we are a technology dump site for other dimensions, is that correct?
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You are also experiencing greater influence from all of your other 837 focuses, presently, in this physical dimension. Of which all are blonde! Robotman: Wow! You mean Hoodspank my antenna ball focus and my whale focus, Flushed, are blonde too? Goofenoff: Which part of ALL are you having difficulty understanding? Robotman: Okay then! I’d like to get a focus validation from you if I may? Goofenoff: (Psssst… guys! Gather round! This aught to be rich!) Very well, you may proceed! Robotman: Do I have a super hero focus in the 23rd century named Buck? Goofenoff: (Didn't I tell you guys? Hahahaha… I can't take it, he’s killing me… hahaha… click!) Well, he hung up. So I’m guessing he'll get back to me after he has time to look it up, download it or whatever!
How to Listen To A River
by Gordon Artrias Rosenberg
I
sat in silence at the edge of a mid-sized river. The rapids before me were of a gentle nature, such as would provide a bouncy yet not-too-threatening inner tube ride. Occasional whitecaps, a few easy swirls and plenty of smooth water on the sides. A good ride, yes. But it wasn’t tubing that I had come here for today.
I had come to listen. Yes listen, for listening to water is one of my favorite hobbies. A pretty mild hobby, you say? About as thrilling as stamp collecting? Could be, but in its own way it can be more exciting than you might guess. Let me tell you how I do it.
Flow of Time, by Elikozoe • photography by Jean-Baptiste Duret
First, not any spot along a river or stream will do —not if you’re looking for state-of-the-art water listening. What we’re after here is peak relaxation which can be attained only by optimum conditions. If the water’s too soft —no rapids, no ripples along the banks— the sound will barely get through to your ears. That’s fine if you just want to take a nap in the fresh air, but it won’t bring you a level of pleasure that master water listeners regularly attain. On the other hand, if you select a roaring waterfall or rapids that would capsize Thor Heyerdahl (he who traveled across the Atlantic several decades ago in a custom-fi tted raft) you will be in for an all-different kind of listening experience. Roaring water can be invigorating, and also deeply relaxing in its own way. But today I’m writing about the kind of relaxation which comes from peaceful water. So on this occasion I sought out a moderately still piece of water and immediately found a wonderful natural meditation seat waiting for me. This seat was actually a large cedar tree with a chair-shaped above ground root for a ‘cushion’ and the tree itself for a backrest. When I’m not this fortunate, there’s generally a comfortable enough rock or fallen log nearby. Or, the ground will do in a pinch. I am always careful to choose a place where a near-sighted fisherman won’t snag me in mid-cast, or somebody’s over-exuberant great dane won’t knock me into the water. Neither experience particularly enhances the relaxation experience. This seat met both precautions. Once I’m settled in place, I take some time to gaze at the river. I notice the ripples, the swells, the whitecaps, the patterns on the surface. Each section of water has its own pattern, its own contour, its own personality really. I believe that, like a snowflake, no two pieces of water have the same pattern. Each time I really look at any water surface, it’s a brand new experience. It’s always a first time. As soon as I’m ready, I close my eyes. If the conditions are right —no great danes, fl ies, mosquitoes, or curious squirrels— this is where water listening can really take off for me. Often, it feels as if the river is flowing right through my mind, in one ear and out the other, taking with it stray thoughts and tension. Sometimes, I feel myself blending with the water, expanding my limited self to make room for all the sounds of the river.
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On this particular day, my tree-chair was located at the very tip of a small peninsula formed by the river’s 90-degree bend to the left. I was nearly surrounded by water. On my right, I heard the consistent patter of small rapids. From a bit closer on the right came an occasion thump, like a small drum, as waves came up under the overhanging shoreline. A similar, somewhat louder bass beat came from farther away on the left. Directly in front of me, close in, were higher tones, perhaps tenor, caused by the convergence of small ripples. These ripples formed a crossing pattern on the surface and lapped against each other upon meeting. Beyond that, back row center, a louder splashing at slight intervals refreshed my memory of the rolling surface with occasional whitecaps I had seen there before closing my eyes. Near me, at left center, there was a barely audible, yet effective, flowing sound provided by a large patch of smooth water. From around the bend to the left came the loudest sound, a gentle roar, as the river entered a series of more turbulent rapids. I sat listening to the overall effect of this water music, letting myself absorb all the individual sounds at once. It’s really easier than you may think to do this; to simply open one’s pores and allow all to flow in. Or, I may choose to select any particular piece of it —whether it be the splashing, the trickling, or the thumping— and focus on that one element. I enjoy switching back and forth between the two approaches.
The Waterfall by Mike Nelson Pedde
F
ew who had ever marveled at its awesome splendor as the water cascaded down onto the rocks below would ever have guessed at its modest origins. But there, back in the quiet of the birch and aspen forest, sat a small, glimmering pond. At one time this place had been just a small hollow, with a small running trickle of water borrowed from the sun-melted snows and summer rains. Also, I have noticed that each sound has a different effect on my mind, and my body. I can sense each “note” in different places. For example, I feel the higher sounds, caused by the small ripples and trickling around logs, in my head, and the thumping sounds, caused by the water hitting the bank, in my chest and solar plexus. Many of the sounds, I believe, have effects in several parts of the body at once. Focusing on these various notes in the river can be very rejuvenating, in ways I don’t need to fully understand in order to benefi t from them. After doing this for a while on this day, I returned to the overall tune, allowing myself to relax further into the river’s melody; to flow as it flowed, to trickle as it trickled, to splash as it splashed. It was somehow beyond listening. A cricket on the bank nearby abruptly chimed in —the new sound startling me from my reverie. Not that it was out-of-place; cricket music fi ts in most everywhere. I was just so focused on the sound of the water that I was unprepared for land sounds. Yet, it was just as well that the cricket stirred me; it was nearly sundown and I may have stayed until after dark. Of course, it’s quite possible to listen to water after dark, but on this occasion, I needed to return to camp across the river and fix dinner before the natural light was gone. And fortunately, I could also hear the river —the other side of the river— from my “kitchen”. As I walked back to camp, I thought about the healing quality of water listening. I know there’s something to it. There’s no doubt it’s quite relaxing, yet it’s more than that. Even science can verify this now, with the help of such tools as biofeedback. I’m sure this kind of relaxation is directly related to the release of endorphins in mind and body, the generation of alpha, delta and theta waves, the lowering of blood pressure, and the like. I’ve researched much of this extensively and written about it, but I really don’t need to depend on factual information to know the value of water listening. I have heard it directly from the river —“channeled” from the Source, you might say.
Thus it had remained, until a pair of young beaver had arrived. With their sharp chisel-like teeth they had gnawed and chipped at the surrounding timber, felling one tree, then another, then another… From these, the beaver had stripped the many branches and twigs and entwined them with bits of mud and leaves to form a dam. Not a small accomplishment, and one that would provide them with a home and an escape from predators as they continued their daily adventures. The beaver had long since gone now, leaving behind the rotting stumps of felled trees intermixed with the shoots of new growth. Also left behind was the dam that had served them so well. Time had taken its toll, through the many seasons of spring floods and winter freezes, the drying sun and the thundering rainstorms. Still, although some of the sticks had rotted away and leaks were evident, the dam still held back water as it had done so many years before. It was from this subtle beginning that the waterfall began. Working its way through dislodged twigs and loose grains of dirt and sand, each tiny droplet embarked on a journey. Once through the dam, they formed a thousand rivulets which worked their way over fallen leaves and through developed passages. Gradually banding together, they became several small channels, all flowing together, binding, becoming one strong stream. From here, the current began to move faster as it travelled. Joined by a smaller streamlet here and there in its continuing journey, the water bumped over and around small logs, carrying leaves, and cascading over small polished stones. Around corners and bends, through riffles and into shallow pools, the droplets wound their way along, each following the main stream. The pace quickened now, faster and faster, until they came to a final large pool. From there the course seemed to end, for ahead lay only a drop off the edge. Scared and unsure, the droplets milled around and around in the pool, not knowing where to go. Finally, knowing they couldn't go back, each tiny droplet crept to the edge… and leaped. Flying, falling through the air, millions of droplets formed a cascade, thundering down on the rocks three hundred feet below. A glimmering sheet of water, forming a spray, caught the sun's light and reflected it, creating a rainbow. Such a beautiful display made the water drops continue their journey — not knowing where their destiny lay, only that it continued ahead.
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The intention of WISP is to provide a place for personal stories; inspirational, light, humorous, challenging or anything in between… and beyond. We would welcome any kind of personal writing, artistic works, poems, essays, etc.
Art by Ragen Mendenhall
Find previous issues and all published stories on our website…
http://wisp.focusphere.net Wisp e-zine — Issue #11 — April–May 2009
ISSN 1760-4796 — No part of this magazine may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher