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Archive for April, 2016

A NEW FRONTIER

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Ghost Ranch, Abiquiu, New Mexico 2011

We are entering a new frontier so the edge is unknown, the boundaries uncertain.

We are not sure of where we are headed since the road map has yet to be written.

You are the mapmaker.

You are the pioneer.

You are venturing forth just like every explorer that has come before you.

You stand on the precipice of discovery,
but this discovery is not out there somewhere but rather inside you.

And you discover that the change you create within you
is the change you see in the world.

For you are not separate.

You are that powerful.

You are that creative.

You matter that much.

excerpt from “A Feminine Path to Enlightenment”

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A LETTER TO DEATH

I have been writing letters to Death.

I am not driven by thoughts of suicide. I write to be intimate with the inevitable Lover who will come for me in the final sacrament of surrender.

Death came for a man I had known for thirty years. Half of those years we were husband and wife. A year after his passing I am still haunted by the overzealous arrival of Death.

It was a Monday. He went to work teaching amputees how to walk with high-tech prosthetic limbs. He was more than his job as a Physical Therapist. He was a Dream Maker, lifting others to summits they never dreamed possible. For those of us who knew him, Death arrived without mercy.

He was slumped in a chair when his co-workers found him due to massive bleeding in his brain. Unable to move, the only word he uttered was

wait,

wait,

wait;

a futile plea bargain in the presence of Death.

He was conscious enough at the time to know that Death was near. Wait was a hopeless prayer, a plea for more time.

Within twenty-four hours he was in a coma, intubated in an ICU unit in New York.

Death would not wait.

I write seeking answers. I have been given a body to create a life here on Earth. How do I know if I have done that well?

I am but one part of a whole. How do I live so that my one fleeting life matters to what is created in the world?

We each are a thread woven together in a tapestry of humanity. Our thoughts and actions are of consequence to the whole, altering the shape of what is created.

Does my thought bring beauty?

Does my action create love?

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India, 2008, along the Ganges River

We are small and simple believing what we do does not matter. At the same time we are vast and complex unable to comprehend our part in the cosmos. We are both the simplicity and complexity that coexist in the paradox of spiritual law.

Can my heart stretch wide enough to overcome the opposing tensions of our humanity and divinity?

Can my heart hold the ache of a life well lived once it has perished from this Earth?

Can my heart abide in a well of deep peace trusting the coming and going of all Life?

Can I meet my lover with a life well lived?

 

 

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IMG_4234An old pick up full of bright colored furniture and bulging suitcases drove up to the empty casita on the mesa. Out jumped Zelda. She had traveled to Abiquiu all the way from New York City. Zelda had grown tired of living in the crowded city and was ready for an adventure. Zelda loved the wide open spaces, the silence of the mountains and the million stars that came out every night but she missed her family in New York very, very much.

On the other side of town an old pick up barreled down the highway. The door flew open and out tumbled a little puppy. As the truck screeched away the little puppy was left all alone on the side of the road.IMG_4417

Before long the kind lady from Animal Rescue got news of a little puppy crying along the highway. She couldn’t imagine what had happened to him. She took him back to her house. It was ready to bust with all the animals she had living there. There was no room left, not even for a little puppy. She posted his picture around town determined to find him a home.

So begins the runaway story of my dog Jethro. As I return to writing a year after Death left its indelible imprint, I am more surprised than anyone to find characters living in my head and story lines running like movies in my mind.

Jethro’s story is my story.

From my very first visit to Abiquiu I dreamed of living here, a dream that did not seem possible. How would I survive in a remote rural community in northern New Mexico?

When I moved to Abiquiu all the broken pieces of my life fit together in the miracle of a dream manifested. Shortly after I arrived everything that seemed so right in the world had suddenly gone horribly wrong. Back in New York my former husband, and the father of my two daughters, died unexpectedly. In the midst of a desolate grief my dog Jethro ran away. I was no longer tethered to life.

After three nights in the wilderness Jethro came home. His return was a real life miracle, one that offered a glimpse at faith to the mirror of my dark soul.

Out of death,
came a story of miracles.

Out of death,
came a story of gratitude.

Out of death,
came  a story of rebirth.

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