Sometimes we all get into an obsessive space over a perceived or real wrong done to us. Around and around, out and in our egos spin on the rim of that hurricane, covering the same territory ad nauseum even while we long to catch hold of the Eye where we can be drawn down into Presence for as long as that gift lasts.
Here are some tools I find helpful:
- Keep a battery powered candle on throughout the time your ego spins out of control. It is a powerful symbol that through the open wound the light gets in (Thank you, Leonard Cohen.)
- Between rants send loving kindness to the one who wounded you. Pour love like gold into their wound until it’s scar blinds with bling! Here is my version of it:
I surround you with divine light
May you be safe from harm
May you be happy and peaceful
May you be strong and healthy
May you take care of yourself with joy.
- Call upon your angels and spirit guides to surround you and let pass into you and from you only that energy which is for the greatest good.
- Cleanse your aura often with spritz spray or hands full of water, or burn sage. “Our thoughts and feelings have an electromagnetic reality and we should manifest wisely.” (source unknown)
- Debrief once with one trusted person if you feel the need; repeated sessions with multiple persons tend to feed negative energy.
Breathing in I am peace
Breathing out I release anger
Breathing in I am power
Breathing out I release dominance.
May it be so.
On the cusp of Autumn
We dare to beg:
On brittle leaves already colored
Dull yellow, gold and red.
On forest-fire smokescreen,
On eerie orange sun
Casting shadows in shades of pink.
Rain down on day-long dusk
Wash ashen scales from purblind eyes
On the parched spirits
Of dreamers curled up into themselves
Waiting for the other shoe to drop.
Remove the smokescreen of words
That splays their spirits waiting
To be sacrificed on the altar of American jobs.
© Rita h Kowats 9-7-17
Photo Credit: J&V Photography
Along with millions of others I recently viewed a photo on Facebook of a group of elderly women at La Vita Bella nursing home in Dickinson, Texas. In the aftermath of Hurricane Harvey they sat in water up to their waists waiting to be rescued. Not exactly the Beautiful Life they had expected. One resident did craft work, others just sat and waited. How does one keep one’s self stable and centered when fear stands watch outside the door threatening to knock it down? As I’ve continued to ask myself that this week a memory of another tragedy caught my attention.
September 11, 2001. An eerie, out-of-character silence had settled on my class of seventeen-year-olds as we waited for news of a sighted but now missing hijacked airplane. Two had already crashed into the twin towers. A wail shattered the silence, emitted from a slumped-over manchild. “Where is my brother? He isn’t answering his phone. WHERE IS MY BROTHER?” How does one keep one’s self stable and centered when fear stands watch outside the door threatening to knock it down?
One day at a time, one choice at a time. In another era we would have said one self-denial at a time. As a young nun in pre-Vatican II days I wore sacrifice beads and pulled one down with each denial. Please. Meister Eckhart fiercely condemns such practices as blocks to birthing the real God in our lives. I think we prepare for those times of no control with the practice of relinquishing control. By letting go of the need to control we become free and able to endure lack of control. We can let go of our need to have the last word, the most stunning idea, the brilliant psychoanalysis of our neighbor. By living outside of our egos we learn to live inside of ourselves where we are sparks of the divine. If we address the fear which stands outside our door from that place, we know how to wait for the rescue.
For the Women of La Vita Bella
Cold water rising
Strong women reap peace past sown
Fear flees in its wake
rita h kowats 9-4-17
Photo Credit Hands: creative commons https://pixabay.com
Photo CreditLa Vita Bella: Trudy Lampson via AP
You Are Invited
A sincere welcome to you recent companions on this blog, and gratitude to long-timers.
A word about the process I use to write my post. All of it emerges from my own human condition, the status of my own soul, if you will. I spend time in meditation asking the spirit moving in the universe to offer connections to us. “Show me what my reader’s hearts long to hear and need to hear,” I ask, and usually that’s what I write about.
So, let’s not be ships passing in the night. If you have a topic about the spiritual life, something that is bringing you close to your center or away from your center bring it to me and I will hold vigil with it and offer a reflection. No catch. No money involved. Just one human being blessed with the privilege of education and experience extending a heart to other human beings. (see my page Spiritual Companion Ministry).
Shoot me an email at:
It can be from Mickey or Minnie Mouse if you like, and I would respect that anonymity in my post.
Blessings on you and on those whom you love,
Friday would have been an idyllic Northwest summer day except for a foreboding haze of smoke from Canada’s forest fires settling in tree branches and hugging the shoreline. Determined to enjoy my excursion to the beach in spite of it, I set out to wait for my friend to arrive by ferry.
Happily ensconced on a promenade bench I relished the briny odor of Puget Sound and the glad sounds of children romping in waves. Smoke obscured my lifelong mountain friends but my memory served up a feast of towering snow-capped craigs.
My reverie was abruptly interrupted by an approaching man who lingered at the bench and gingerly draped his hand over the back. “Excuse me,” he said. “I just want to say ‘hi’ to my little girl.” I noticed the memorial plaque and offered to move so he could sit with her a while. He countered, “Thank you, but my wife is waiting in the car and she isn’t well.” We said our good-bye. Alone now, I studied the memorial plaque. Kendra was nineteen when she died and her dad wrote, “No father should ever have to bury his child, but I put my trust in the Lord.” I wept.
Did you know?
He loved you
To the top of the mountains
To the bottom of Puget Sound whose healing waves
Carried you aloft and soothed
Your seashell cuts and scrapes.
Here he stands
Grief barely at bay
A father who never
Should have buried his child.
A father whose tender love
Is balm for this fatherless soul.
© Rita H Kowats 8-14-17
Note: you can see a photo of Regina’s bench at Olympic Beach Here.
Last night, as I was sleeping
I dreamt-marvelous error!-
that I had a beehive
here inside my heart.
And the golden bees
were making white combs
and sweet honey
from my old failures.
Antonio Machado, translated by Robert Bly
Bees weave their burden
In and out and in between
Ahh… Sweet Communion
© rita h kowats July 31, 2017
Beware the Jabberwock, my son,
the jaws that bite and claws that scratch…
Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun
The frumious Bandersnatch!”
Through the Looking Glass Lewis Careoll
I awoke to the shrieks
Of an avaricious vulcher
Tweeting a Tornado of Tweets
Each one trumping the next.
“Ahh, the sky is falling,
The sky is falling,”
“Put the sword down, Alice.
Tend first the vulcher
And the one outside
Dwindles to a dodo.”
c. Rita H Kowats 7-25-17
NOTE: The dodo (Raphus cucullatus) is an extinct flightless bird that was endemic to the island of Mauritius, east of Madagascar in the Indian Ocean. The dodo’s closest genetic relative was the also extinct Rodrigues solitaire, the two forming the subfamily Raphinae of the family of pigeons and doves.
Dodo – Wikipedia
Having completed my morning wade through the daily swamp of American news I leave it to place this question before us:
Can we make America great again this way:
Or this way:
That old familiar tune
Strikes up in the recesses of my soul
Heralding the familiar promenade of pretense.
I cast off layers of deceit
To the tattoo-tune of the Holy Stripper
And the raucous pleadings of my victims,
“Take it off! Take it all off!”
The bright white bones of truth
Step out of their camouflage
To dance La Cumparsita with wild abandonment
Until the familiar tune calls me back
To the stage of my humanity.
© Rita H Kowats June 3, 2017
6:00 p.m. And the hits just keep on coming. TapDanc
And the hits just keep on coming. Tap Dance ad nauseum:
6:00 p.m:. Tuesday:http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-4708778/Trump-Putin-held-second-undisclosed-meeting-G20-summit.html http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-4708778/Trump-Putin-held-second-undisclosed-meeting-G20-summit.html
There he went into a cave and spent the night. And the word of the Lord came to him: “What are you doing here, Elijah?” …The Lord said, “Go out and stand on the mountain in the presence of the Lord, for the Lord is about to pass by 1 Kings 19:9;11
FORMS OF HOSPITALITY
from Henri Nouwen’s book, Reaching Out
We probably will never be free from all our hostilities, and there even may be days and weeks in which our hostile feelings dominate our emotional life to such a degree that the best thing we can do is to keep distance, speak little to others and not write letters, except to ourselves. Sometimes events in our lives breed feelings of bitterness, jealousy, suspicion and even desires for revenge, which need time to be healed. It is realistic to realize that although we hope to move toward hospitality, life is too complex to expect a one-way direction. But when we make ourselves aware of the hospitality we have enjoyed from others and are grateful for the few moments in which we can create some space ourselves, we may become more sensitive to our inner movements and be more able to affirm an open attitude toward our fellow human beings.
Photo Credit: http://stevensauke.blogspot.com/2013/08/high-noon-on-israelite-front.html
Auroras continue to intrigue…what a lovely afternoon I had meandering around Jupiter and my own soulscape….enjoy.
Jupiter’s powerful magnetosphere extends up to two million miles into the space around the planet (illustrated) and is thought to be responsible for sending charged particles in the space around it hurtling at high speeds towards the poles
Here is how our spirits look when we make the connections to the divine: