Change

When I was a child, by the age of six I had already faced many changes. I had emigrated with my family from Germany, my mother and father divorced, I had a new baby sister and I gained a stepfather.

School was one change too many. I was terrified of everything...the huge yellow school bus with the shouting children, the echoing halls of this...place...where I was required to spend most of my day...even the bathroom frightened me. We had an outhouse at home.

But I especially remember the shrieking children, as I watched them from under the coat racks that lined the long hallways. My coat smelled like home, I think. Homesick, I hung on to it, on those wintry days when all the kids played inside the school. The hallways and basement became the playground.

I was not used to children, even if I was one. My playmates were the family dogs, Trees, Plants and Stones outside. It was a quiet, natural world that I inhabited...any excitement around being generated by my own imagination. We lived on a rural property and far from the nearest town.

I did not know it was alright to shriek like that. Indoors, at that. I was afraid the wrath of the grown-ups around would come down on all of us, even me, who was not participating. It made my head hurt...the noisy confusion bombarded me from all directions, there in my little hidey-hole.

It seemed the fear took hold for months; I think it was only the first term. As I screamed my head off, my mother would place me on the bus and the bus driver would hand me over to one of the older girls, who held my hand and attempted to keep me in my seat. Still hiccuping with sobs, I would then, upon arrival at school, be handed over to my teacher, Miss Daily. She had incredible patience with me, letting me cling to her skirt for most of the school day.

I was never teased by my classmates; I have no idea why, since there was plenty of teasing happening with other students. Perhaps they recognized my absolute terror, perhaps kids can be kind, as well as cruel...I will never know. But they just accepted me, hiding behind my coat and all.

Eventually, some kids would come over and talk to me, racing off to play or chase somebody else at times. And eventually, I would run with them, leaving my coat hanging behind, for longer and longer periods of time. In time, too, I would shriek with laughter, chasing the boys or being chased. And I would no longer be frightened of the bathroom...it had become a matter of course.

But I remember well how I integrated myself into the social life of my school. As I hid behind the coats, hanging on to the cloth, wrapping the fur on the collar around my fingers...I watched these children. Each and every one of them became very familiar to me...their speech, their body language, what they laughed at, and how they interacted with each other.

And I told myself, over and over, one thing. I told myself that one day, I would no longer be frightened, I told myself that one day I would run and shriek with abandon, leaving fear behind. I told myself that the sky would not fall if I accepted and adapted to this irrevocable change that had been presented to me. I challenged myself to look at this opportunity without fear.

And to do this, I had to assimilate this whole different atmosphere into my very being. That is why I watched and waited. I learned who and how and what these children...these strange little beings, who were just like me...were. These were my tools, although I was too young to realize it. This ability to watch and wait and learn has never left me. This is a way of life that others sometimes may find slow...but it has never let me down.

Then I had to stand and face my Fear. I had to understand I had allowed that Fear to assume illogically huge proportions, and it was growing by the minute! And so, in my six year old mind, I had to shift it over...instead of letting Fear grow bigger, I could let it grow smaller.

It was a big lesson from my guides for a little girl. The idea that I could shift my reality and change what was so frightening has guided me throughout life's travails.

I'm still able to get wrapped up in fearful behavior, becoming anxious or angry...sending negativity flying into the ether. Sometimes I let myself shout with terrifying anger, or cry with abandon...but even then, there is a part of me that watches and learns what it is that is frightening me so intensely.

Then I remember that little girl, who hung on to her coat for awhile, and then stood away, facing her fear of change.

And I can do no less, as an adult.

Arctic Front

The North Wind has brought the Arctic to our doorstep. Wind's voice sounds like long, slow moans, as it helps clothe branches of Trees and Shrubs with a mantle of Snow and Ice.

Water, so abundant last week, has frozen in place...the treacherous Ice lying in wait underneath the Snow.

And there is a mountain of Snow, it seems. It has snowed for three days and nights, starting with the coldest Blizzard I can remember. It is still snowing; the forecast is for another huge Snow Storm to hit on Wednesday.

These photos were taken three days ago. Today, after another night of snowfall, I went out once again to clear branches of Snow. But it wasn't to be... Snow has turned to Ice and is clinging and enveloping each branch. The branches are brittle with cold; I hear snapping sounds from twigs in the distance. Were I to brush them, in the interests of helping, it would be all to easy to introduce harm instead.

I break holes through Ice in the ponds, where Koi lives, deep beneath plant roots. It is cold...so cold. It feels as if it will never be warm again...the ice-laden breath of the Arctic has driven all thoughts of Summer and too much heat from my memory.

For awhile, the dogs like the cold. It is a change from the mud and water we slogged through last week. I appreciate Snow, too; it keeps the dogs clean...no more muddy feet. Even as the driving Snow blurs and obscures the sight out of windows, kids are playing...building snowmen and forts and race cars and playing hockey. Their muffled, happy laughter rings true.

But the dogs get cold, in this icy Northeast Wind, and so do I. I go inside, sending the plants, so frozen and lifeless, many Reiki blessings to help them through this continuing strange onslaught of aberrant weather. What will be next? What is the weather showing us, trying to tell us? We have had an unusually long, dry Summer and through most of Autumn, we have had little rain.

But in November ...things changed. Weather became just as extreme as the hot dry days of Summer. We are no longer in a temperate climate, it seems. The normal topic of conversations these days is the weather. The question...What will the weather do today?...is on every one's lips. Life has changed for many people...no longer is electricity something we take for granted; nor is Water, still being boiled in many areas. Some towns and villages are cut off from the outside world. Suddenly, due to the whims of something we can't control, our way of life is no longer a sure thing.

The Snow and Ice contributes to the sense of emergency. The muffled sounds and whines of emergency vehicles has become almost constant. There are many elderly people who live here; weather such as this can sometimes precipitate dire straits, with electricity flickering on and off. We are lucky to have the paramedics we do...lives are being saved.

The landscape, with blowing Snow and howling Wind mostly obscuring familiar land points, is eerily beautiful, picturesque as a Winter postcard. But it looks like this from inside, where Gray and I are warm, grateful for our good fortune in still having electricity.

Outside, an Arctic Front holds us in its hoary grip...bringing change to our modern lifestyles and reminding us of ancient lessons learned long ago from Mother Earth.

Ancient lessons of survival.

Pantry Raid

With Graham on a very restricted diet, I felt it was time to raid the pantry...to find all those foods that were forbidden items and relegate them to the trash bin.

A few years ago, when the kids were still at home, it would have been easy to find junk foods...the kind of foods that add calories and little else. Like potato chips, cheezies...and horrors!...chocolate and candy.

During that time, too, I would find opened packages of food haphazardly thrown back onto the shelf, never to be tasted again. In the pantry, it was mostly dry goods, so those packages usually did little, other than grow stale. It was the foods that went into the fridge, opened and tasted, and then hidden behind another item...to be found by me, weeks later, when the green mould crept out from behind the pickle jar...

Those days have ended...a long time ago. When the kids left, my diet changed too. No longer was the pantry filled with KD or dried noodle soups. Beans, grains and fresh local or organic foods became the order of the day.

But Graham can have no sugars, fats, wheat and/or gluten, or dairy. OK. That meant a whole lot of the foods I have in the refrigerator and in the pantry would have to go...elsewhere. Anything unopened, of course, would be donated...but there was not a whole lot unopened.

The Coombs Country Market has a good selection of dried pastas; Graham and I had just stocked up on all sorts of different pastas...varied shapes and sizes, some egg, others whole wheat. Gray can now only have rice pasta. OK. No rice pasta in the cupboard, only some delicate Asian pasta.

But there's lots of organic whole wheat flour, unbleached white flour, oat flour, oat bran, Scottish oatmeal, organic brown sugars...and these are all forbidden. Graham is a Scot; oatmeal is in his DNA. The cultural food preferences will be hard to overcome. There is no rice flour.

There is white rice, brown rice, sushi rice, basmati rice, wild rice...these, finally, are kept. Graham can have anything rice.

I find the nut cupboard, and say a silent prayer of gratitude...there are many packages of nuts available here...pecans, walnuts, almonds and cashews. He can eat these, too.

And there is a good selection of dried and frozen fruit available. Also allowed.

Hmmm...honey, not allowed, maple syrup...allowed in moderation, brown sugar, cane syrup...not allowed. We have about fourteen different kinds of honey in the cupboard, gathered from various parts of the country, most unopened. This might be a slight exaggeration; there are a lot of jars, however.

Why do we have so much honey? I must be attracted to something there...since I rarely eat honey!

OK. I accept that I overdid the honey thing. But there are preserves, all made with sugar, many given as gifts. I decide to keep these, to serve to guests. It is getting harder and harder to decide what to keep and what to discard, but we are overflowing with food that cannot be eaten. It goes against everything I believe in...to discard food. But I cannot just waste it, either.

I have only olive oils and grapeseed oils, which are deemed OK. But the cheese drawer...oh my! Graham and I are attracted to various kinds of cheeses...and these are definitely not allowed. Along with the milk and cream, these will have to go. And all that frozen bread...

So now I will replace. Neither of us care for buckwheat...but I can find brown rice flour. I can find different kinds of rice pasta. He can eat as many eggs as he wants. And the fresh vegetable bin will remain the same, except he is not allowed potatoes in his diet.

Suddenly, my cupboards are fairly empty. I imagine the whole grains I can try. I fantasize that I will find a great recipe for rice bread...the kind we tried is, to be frank, disgusting. I realize I am about to embark on a new adventure in cooking, which is more of a joy than a chore to me.

It will be a great challenge. And it will feel even better when I get over the fact that I am discarding food.

The pantry is empty. But the raid was required and necessary. It was all in the interests of good health...and Graham is very much worth it.

A Watery World

I took a walk around the garden in pouring Rain this morning; I sloshed through Water in Puddles and small Lakes and Rivers.

Water every- where. Sounds around me are full of swishes, drips, gurgles, bubbles...and the booming song of the waves upon the Beach.

I meditated as I wandered, scarcely noticing the pelting Rain. There is an unease to my spirit these days; this morning I pinpointed the cause.

The Holiday Season is upon me. I can no longer deny it. Everything seems to be decorated. There are decisions to make...dinners and such. And once again, I will face the anniversary of my daughter Katrina's death.

It will be ten years since she moved irrevocably on...without me, her mother, to help her along her way, on December 30th. The strong, piercing pain that once throbbed within me no longer darkens December days further than wintry skies alone.

But there is still an ache. A soft, gentle ache that closes my throat, making me swallow hard. A hard knot in my solar plexus and easy tears where my emotional body needs succor completes the picture.

I don't believe it will ever lessen further. The huge, crashing waves of emotion that used to swallow me entirely are no longer as large and overwhelming. Smaller, softer waves of longing and sadness now tickle my toes...just enough to keep me aware of that heavy ache Katrina's death left with me.

She was my child. There is a disorder...a twist... that happens when a child dies before the parent, even if she was twenty-three. Life is not supposed to happen this way. But it did. It just did.

And it happens to many of us parents. I wanted my child to be safe; I did everything I could to do that very thing that is such an important part of parenting. I know that. And I am grateful for the time that Creator allowed Katrina to be a part of my life.

As I sloshed through the Water...Water that tugged and pulled at my emotions...I remembered some of the things Katrina taught me. One lesson that is still with me, always, is when she told me that just because she didn't show her emotions didn't mean she didn't feel them.

And there were many more lessons...Katrina's patience was legendary. Her non-judgemental attitude taught me to let things go, to not obsess wildly about events I could do nothing about. Some of her lessons did not become apparent until after her death...it was her legacy.

But I find myself wondering, at times...what would Katrina do in a case like this? And always, always the answer comes. And I carry on, knowing our family has the greatest guardian there ever was.

Acceptance, after many years of anguish and sorrow and anger, has finally arrived. I used to think, in my youth, that after someone died, I would spend a day or two in sorrow...and then "put it behind me". I used to think I knew what acceptance was.

A watery world...in which my tears flowed, just as suddenly as the strange little Rivers that have forged their way through my backyard. It felt just as cleansing as the Earth did, after sheets of Rain and gusts from Wind showered her clean.

I need to have days like this...my spirit calls out for it. I need to weep...and so I do. These are different tears than angry or happy tears. There is no end to these. Sometimes the dam they're in needs to overflow.

And a watery world is just the place to let them.

Storm Tossed

The west coast of Canada is still being pounded by Storm after Storm. These pictures were taken on the anniversary of Dad's death; there have been three storms since then, with another in the forecast for Tuesday.

We have a River running through our property now, from the empty lot next door, which requires some drainage work on the part of the absentee owners.

The dogs were hesitant to go outside with me to assess the damage to our outdoor furniture. Their eyes were as big as a child's eyes when she first sees a Christmas Tree, and blasts from Wind made them stumble. But dogs will face many terrible things in the name of protecting their loved ones...so they stayed by my side.

It was an astounding sight to see this big piece of furniture lifted high in the air, riding the strong Wind stream. The glass from the table sailed off, and landed gently, as if a giant hand held it safe, softly depositing it on the concrete sidewalk.

We have been lucky. Many, many large Trees fell...and many more will fall. Development and logging practices leave a screen of Trees around the perimeter...and these Trees do not have the strength, with no more protection from the grove of Trees they were once a part of, to withstand the force of Wind.

This was not a benign, moderate Storm. High, hurricane force Winds pummeled the land and its occupants and there was so much Water! And we hear on the news...there will be more, with the same face of the Storms that have just passed through.

With so much Water flowing, rushing everywhere...being spit over the Land by Wind, gushing Water...it was as if Earth received a cleansing. Detritus lies everywhere. All the bits and pieces of life and its beings are littered over every street and garden. Mostly useless bits. But Water washed the streets clean, with its great, Wind-driven force...the long, dusty Summer a distant memory.

The Storm, wearing a vicious, twisted face, seemed to delight in his extreme ownership of the power of Wind. I felt a few twinges of fear, until I went outside to look at the damage caused by, what seemed to me, misuse of power.

It seemed the force of the Storm grew larger, as I stood, looking at the mess, feeling anger in my heart for the unfairness of it all. I had asked for guidance, earlier, when Storm first showed his face. And I had asked that all beings were kept safe. But if my garden was any indication, there was far worse damage being done all around me, by the punishing Storm. Hence my disappointment, and yes, momentary anger with my guides and allies.

And then I heard shrieking laughter from this Trickster of a Storm. I was feeding this Storm...I was sending black negativity directly to this amorphous being. I caught myself in an instant. I heard a gentle whisper, then...there is no damage, if you will only look first...and react later.

I heard myself laughing, even as I thanked my guides for another reminder. I stood in the face of this immense being, who was tweaking my serenity...and I smiled. I looked at Grandfather Tree, who had prepared himself long ago for errant Storms, with his broad base and sparse, upper body. He smiled, too...even as a few more distinctly angry gusts of this Storm's powerful breath tossed his limbs.

We spent the day yesterday, in the company of Wind, which has never left us. He is himself once more, powerful but contained. We raked leaves and cleaned up...and there truly is no damage, except to a few pot shards here and there. The glass top survived intact.

And I hear a whispered warning... there will be more Storms, just ahead. Indeed, the weather forecast gives credence to the warning... another large, rather ugly Storm will be here tomorrow.

I felt protected throughout these Storms just passed, with the exception of the one moment of disappointment...and I expect I will weather the other Storms that come in the same manner.

And I will remember the lesson, learned in the face of the Storm.

An Anniversary Storm

A year ago today, my Dad died... taking his final journey alone, as we all do. Within hours of his death, however, I felt him with me. And as today wore on, once again I felt him close by.

In Thoughts On My Dad,
I write about my relationship with him.

On this day, the anniversary of his death, a Storm is raging. It seems fitting, somehow, that the extreme weather seems to punctuate the vast difference in my life from a year ago.

I am writing this by hand, as I sit in Dad's chair by the fire. The power keeps going off, and I hesitate to use the computer during Wind and Rain's vicious assault. I have a lovely, aromatic Beeswax Candle lit, and it flickers a little as the flame catches a draft.

I feel a little like a Writer from the past, with my Book and Pen and Candlelight.

This morning, just as I awoke, Lightning pierced the darkened sky. I closed my eyes, in immediate self defense, but not before the Light pierced deep into my brain. The Lightning before and behind my eyes became a rhythmic orb, vibrating within me even with closed eyes. And then came the long, low rumbling of Thunder...at first sounding as if he had just woken in a grumbly mood...and then taking on strength until he totally enveloped the world with his roar.

The house shook! The dogs whimpered and barked, scurrying for cover, beside themselves with fear. Graham and I were no longer sleepy. And the thought raced through my mind that Thunder sounded a great deal like my Dad, at times. Was Dad perhaps sending me a Good Morning?

The power is off now, seemingly for good, this time. It has flickered on and off, with loud bangs in the distance, for awhile now. I hear the familiar whine of the fire trucks, ambulances and police as they race through the Storm.

The dominance of Wind's power is becoming frightening, even to me, who revels in very strong, shrieking Wind. Trees whip back and forth high in the air, almost doubling over before the fury of the Storm. Wind drives sheets of water through the air, picking up moisture even from the saturated Earth.

My Dad and I once watched a Hurricane from the living room window of the home where I grew up. The Storm exhilarated him; I remember how happy and open he seemed with me that day. We shared that stimulating, thrilling joy at the power of Wind. This special memory is important to me; there were all too few of them, it seemed.

The power has been off for hours now. Our covered Glider-Lounge, Patio Tables and Chairs and various potted plants took flight, as I watched in astonishment from the kitchen window. Held in the arms of Wind, they were gently laid to rest about fifty feet from where their place is. Even the glass from the Patio Table sailed through the air, landing softly, intact, on the concrete sidewalk. I feel I am being guided through this long assault from the Storm.

Telephone lines are down. I have placed candles on many surfaces...the table, counters and shelves. I hear the house creak, reeling from another punishing gust of Wind. I fear for Grandfather Tree; he has been hit by Lightning twice, over the course of the years...will his strength hold through this onslaught?

A year ago, my father died, unleashing a storm of change, in all of his family's lives. It seems fitting to have a wild Storm on the anniversary of his death.

The Wind and Rain have not abated. I am hearing stories from neighbours that the highway going into Port Alberni, where Mom lives, has been closed. I am hearing stories about flooding...3rd Avenue, the main "drag", is flooded, with cars and logs floating in the rushing 'river'. Many main roads are closed, due to horrendous flooding. The people have been assaulted by Hail, Snow, Wind and much Rain, as have we. I know there is no power there.

I last spoke with Mom early this morning, before phone lines were cut off. She had been without power for a couple of hours at this point...it is now pointing towards late afternoon. And it is now that I cry for my Dad...I yearn for his bull-headed strength.

My mother's chair is electric...and the chair was left in an upright condition. A belief she has that one can, under no circumstances, move to a bed during the daytime, left her sitting in that position. With no TV, her daytime companion. Another belief that one does not read during the day leaves her with very few options. Mom is clinging to her routine, I know she is, even if I can't reach her. It is her security blanket.

Perhaps my Dad was bull-headed for a reason.

I cry, too, for the restrictions that have appeared in my life, with the responsibilities I have taken on with my Mom. It has enriched my life in so many ways; but it is hard. And tiring.

Sometimes, I become overwhelmed. In this moment, I want my Dad back, just so that he could shoulder these responsibilities once more...

But the light returns...Wind is abating somewhat. I have cleared the drains at the road; our house was almost flooded, at one point. A watery Sun peeks out for just a moment...a return of Strength and Hope.

I laugh at myself...are there not so many gifts I have been given, as I seek to form a relationship with my mother and therefore, myself? These are far more numerous than the tiredness and the restrictions on my time. A little give and take...

Thank you, Dad.

Ocean Whispers

Have you ever wandered by the Ocean shore, and listened to the whispering of the waves, imagining what the Waters have seen? The sibilant sounds of the waves as they wash to shore can easily transport me to different realms.

I can imagine I am walking by a tropical Sea, if I want, with soft, warm breezes. Or, if a recent storm has stirred up the ocean, and a cold wind blows, perhaps I visualize myself by a northern Sea.

Ocean called me the other day. Waves were pounding on the shore, punishing the rocks and sand on the beach. Wind was howling...I had the thought that it was perfect picture taking weather. But my camera does not work well in inclement weather any more...

And so I just wandered along, enjoying the sounds and Wind without having my attention taken away by a perfect picture opportunity. And I listened to what the angry, tumultuous Ocean was trying to tell me.

There was little wildlife about this day. A few Sea Gulls swooped and swerved with Wind, calling their distinctive cry. I found a perfect rock to on which to sit, and I watched the hypnotic waves pound the sand a few feet from me. My thoughts travelled to what I had read about Water, and what its magical properties were.

Water is immensely responsive to Spiritual vibrations. Experiments done by Dr. Masara Emoto from Japan shows that the crystalline structure of water is dramatically changed by the vibrations it has been subjected to. It is a living substance, with its own life process and its own Spirit.

Theodor Shwenk (1910-1981) a hydrological engineer, proved that Earth is a living organism, with Water as its sensory organ. Water perceives vital Cosmic influences, transmitting these into Earthly life, showing, with dramatic results, how the differences in our thought patterns changes the crystalline structure of Water.

Water comes in various stages of ripeness...from juvenile water to mature water. Juvenile water is not good for our health, it needs to gather up to 33-36 different trace minerals after it falls to the earth as Rain. It seeps through Earth, gathering these minerals, and emerges as Spring Water, becoming mature in the process. Juvenile water, along with distilled water, has a mineral leaching effect on our bodies, because this Water is "hungry", needing these minerals in order to mature.

Water remembers. It absorbs the vibrational patterns from other substances in its crystalline structure, long after the actual substance has disappeared, and is no longer in the Water.

As I sat on this flat, comfortable rock, with Wind blowing water droplets from Ocean over me, I wondered if I could ask Water to remember the treasures it had surely come into contact with...the treasures of Gold from pirates long dead, or the mindset of long ago civilizations. What knowledge would Water share with me this afternoon?

As I drifted into meditation, the howl of Wind and the crashing of Ocean Waves receded, and a soft, warm breeze enveloped me. The shrill cry of the Gulls disappeared, and song birds twittered in the Forest that suddenly sprang up behind me. Waves slowly washed ashore, bringing a gentle sense of peace and well-being.

Water is Earth's sensory organ; it picked up on my thoughts and showed me how I could change, just by believing, the reality of my life. It proved this thought well this afternoon, and it has stayed with me. I have dreamt many dreams of what Water showed me that day.

Before I went to the beach, my thought patterns were all about security...a richness... I felt I didn't have. My mind was focused on debt, on health problems and a million other negative ways of thinking. I did not think I was mired in negativity; rather, I thought I was trying to find the solution. But the thoughts I was sending out to Ocean were filled with unhappiness, even if I was not aware of it.

Ocean took my thoughts, swirled them around, washing them clean, and sent them back to me.

Suddenly I was surrounded with Gold. The rocky beach turned into a long space filled with golden spheres, some large bars of gold, others small golden coins...the beach was covered in them. The Rock I sat on became a throne, embedded with jewels. I saw myself giving the bounty I was in to deserving charities, I felt myself becoming secure and happy, knowing I could do whatever I wanted to do. I heard the words...Ask and Believe.

Had I ever expressly asked for Abundance, and what it means to me? Did I believe enough to understand that if I changed my thought patterns, the Universe would send me what I required in life? What if I didn't think of debt, but of a constant flow of cash, enough for my needs and others? What if I thought of myself as healthy, instead of arthritic? The rest of life's problems...could I change my thinking, change the words I used to describe them, to more positive terms?

And would I be able to sustain the belief that with thought changes abundance in all things would occur? Water told me to Ask the Universe...that is the easy part. Even if I must remember, when I ask, that I use the proper terminology. I could ask for abundance in Cash, but I must remember, at the same time, to ask for abundance in Joy. There are many people who are wealthy who are unhappy, because they have forgotten Joy.

The hard part is believing, on a constant, flowing, ongoing basis. Every minute of the day, I must work at believing I already live with abundance. Even if I am stuck in sadness and fear...I must rework where I find myself, must find the balance and must know, deep within my soul, that the sadness and fear does not define me. It is not who I am.

Ocean's whispers, on this blustery, stormy day, told me who I am, told me I could have abundance of joy, health, money...whatever I want...in a manner I will never forget. The golden stones stay with me and permeate my dreams.

And suddenly, my dreams are filled with good things, with happiness and laughter and yes, wonderful security...enough for the rest of my life on Earth. No longer are they muddy and convoluted and sad, hard to decipher.

The human body is made up of at least 70 percent water. If water has memory, and I pollute that water in my body with negativity, could it not follow, then, that the water in my body would remember those heinous thoughts and react to them, giving me a different viewpoint than I really desire?

Water cleansed my thinking last week and changed it to a positive vibration. Ocean's whispers of other places and other times has taught me that even if I am not aware of how my thinking comes across, if it is in any way negative, the negative is attracted to more negativity, more unhappiness. It feeds on itself.

Just as joy does.

Note: This post has been entered in Kilroy's Carnival. Please visit to see other entries that were submitted. (November 19, 2007)

Lessons from Bear

For the last few nights, I have received visits in my sleep from Grand- father Bear. They are not threatening dreams…far from it. I wake feeling, however, that there is something just out of reach of which I should be aware.

Bear has accompanied me all my life. When I see Bear in dreams, depending on his actions, I usually feel calmed. Bear offers great protection, and knowing he is there reminds me of that boost of strength that I know I have in reserve. On some days, it is well-hidden.

The dreams by themselves, these days, don’t have much meaning, other than Bear’s presence. In one dream, a roly- poly little Bear kept jumping on a Red square. I took special notice of this one. The colour Red is often used to make us pay attention; obviously Bear felt I needed a clear reminder.

I know when Bear appears in my dreams I am to notice what I am thinking, how I react to those thoughts, and how I interact with others. I am being warned about my propensity to be too quick to anger…too sure of my own power, thereby throwing caution to the winds.

I have been known to chase off would-be thieves, in the dark of night. Bear is fearless in defending his beliefs and his own…but I am not Bear; I must remember that I have limitations. And when quick anger strikes, sometimes I forget.

Bear is sending the message to use discernment in all I do (and think) and to discriminate with careful consideration.

According to Linsdomain website people who identify with Bear will be quieter in the Winter months. I am like that; give me a good book, a mug of chowder and a log burning in the fireplace and I am happy. I find myself thinking…there will be time to research this or that, to read that long book, to organize things…during the Winter.

But, for me, the best message Bear sends is to centre myself and ground. And so, yesterday, when my thoughts were scattered and my energy was being given to nonsensical things...I shovelled dirt. I imagined I was using Bear's claws to dig deep... re-connecting, once again, with Mother Earth.

I worked hard. Not just at digging, but also at being aware of my thought patterns. I was amazed at how often my thoughts took a negative turn. Instead of either obsessing madly or blindly ignoring these pieces of garbage that ran through my mind, I gave each and every one a positive spin. I gave each thought, no matter how small or silly, the time of day, hearing myself listen to the cons and then replacing them with the pros.

I treated myself as if I was listening to another person tell me his woes. I gave myself my undivided attention. I found, as the afternoon wore on, the rush of negative thinking slowed and the angst disappeared. And the new thoughts that filed through my mind were clean and fresh...no longer mired in the muddy confusion of a few hours before.

It was as if my mind had a warm Spring shower, leaving it sparkling clear.

And it happened just because I was aware of the lessons from Grandfather Bear.

November

It is once again stormy outside. I watch Rain being driven horizontally by Wind; leaving long rivulets of Water on the windows.

And I know the long, dry weather we've had since Summer began to sing is over.

But November storms have their own curious attraction for me. They are the harbingers of a new season...a different rhythm.

The garden is sodden; Leaves that have yet to be raked and placed over the garden beds blanket the backyard. I have waited for all the Leaves to fall, for a long time, it seems. I want to place those Leaves over my garden beds; but stubbornly, even through gale force Winds, they cling to their branches, waiting for the perfect moment to join their companions clustered over the Earth.

My camera does not like wet, windy weather. The battery gives out very quickly. And so, the other morning, I took pictures through the dining room window. The water washing down the windows made the photos look old, as if I had pulled them from an old box filled with memories. They made me feel as if I lived in another place and time.

November can be like that. This year, there was a sudden change from warm, dry weather to the wet and windy days we are now experiencing. This difference in climate took a lot of my plants by surprise.

Roses are still blooming. The Passion Flower Vine, which had too many blossoms to count this year, is still putting out its unearthly bloom, not seeming to mind the very cold or very wet weather we've experienced. In different pockets of the garden, Pansies, Monkshood, and Lavender are still dancing in Wind's concert.

Against all odds, these flowers are still showing their colours. I feel for them...I want to bring them in to the warmth of the house. I have tried to do this before; I know that they will almost instantly curl up and turn brown...the change in temperature too much for them. I leave these stalwart blossoms outside, where they remind me of the season just passed. And where they can find their own rhythm in the scheme of things.

Last week, when we drove to Port Alberni, Trees still had full Fall foliage and Sun still sent his golden rays out of a clear, blue Sky. This week, the road through Cathedral Grove and beside Cameron Lake was covered in a sheet of ground up Leaves; Wind whipped Water from the Lake over the side of the road. Clouds were heavy and dark, banked up against the Mountain Ranges that stand guard over the Lake.

Wind had toppled one of the grand old Trees in the Grove. We saw the raw cuts from the saw on the once proud Tree, when we drove through. It had fallen across the road, hitting a car in the process. Occupants of the car are apparently injured, but alive.

I have always felt extremely vulnerable, travelling through the Grove on a very Windy day. The power of Wind can send branches from the Trees thudding against the roof and hood of my car, and leaves can obscure vision. Driving through the tunnel of trees at these times is a struggle in endurance...it seems never-ending, my nerves on edge at each turn in the road.

The November Wind proved his power once again this weekend, making my wary awareness of his force justified.

With a strength not to be denied, November's Wind roars out the warning...Winter will come. The cold weather will leave Earth brown, without sustenance enough...and I hear Wind shriek his cautionary tale...telling me to prepare for the cold ahead.

In November, I am not yet tired of hearing Wind shriek; or Rain beating upon the window panes; or Frost and Snow etching sparkling outlines as far as my eye can see. It is a time for laying in Beeswax candles; for bringing out warmer clothing from their summer hibernation. It is the time to light the fire in the evenings.

Winter has not depleted my strength as yet.

But ask me again, in January.

Water

Last night, in my dreams, I wandered by Rivers and Streams, watching...always watching...the flow of water that tumbled along beside me.

Sometimes the way was rocky...Nurse Logs and Boulders impeded my way. But on the whole the journey was pleasant...it was not the path which was difficult. It was Water cascading along beside me that was reminding me to let go...

According to Maljonic's Dreams website, water in dreams has many meanings, according to who the dreamer is. Water manifests in so many ways...soft, gentle Mists gives way to hard, driving Rain, or a gentle, meandering Stream turns into a swollen, muddy, raging River.

But Water in dreams is always a heads-up about something important...a message I need to hear.

As I wandered along, listening to the birds sing, I caught sight of Bear...just out of the corner of my eye. I was immediately comforted. Grandfather Bear has been with me forever, throughout all the trials and joys.

It seemed a meaningless journey, with the exception of the great peace and acceptance I felt. It was wondrous with scenic beauty, the path on which I meandered along...but what was I to hear...what was the message?

The gentle Stream turned into a slow, lumbering River, which quickly grew huge Boulders, impeding the rush of Water, which shouted out her rage at being thwarted on her path. Water grew to gigantic proportions; she rushed and slammed her way through the thicket of Boulders, who stood fast and firm.

I shouted along with Water, as she battled for supremacy, chuckling at her freedom of emotional display against Boulders who had withstood her tantrums for a long time.

And finally, River calmed, the implacable Boulders became flat Stones that seemingly flowed along with the wide, wide body of Water that seemed spent, flowing at peace once again.

I heard the roar long before I saw the wide ribbon of Water that fell many feet. Filled with curiosity, I came closer to the edge of the Cliff, and saw a huge expanse of blue, blue Water. I knew it was Ocean who lay below waiting to receive River's offering.

I jumped over the edge, still feeling absolutely sure this was the right thing to do. Normally I am afraid of heights...my tummy does flip-flops when I find myself higher than a foot or two. But there was no fear in my dream.

I felt the warm, salty Ocean close over my head, and I floated in the soft briny blue of the sea, finally popping up to the surface, with such gladness in my heart.

I heard myself laughing and splashing in Ocean as I woke up, still feeling the warmth of Water surrounding me.

It was a cleansing and a re-birth. I felt the effects of the dream later in the morning when a huge wave of emotion came crashing over me, completely obliterating any thing in its way. The tears that followed were enormously releasing...a storm of tears.

But they abated; leaving me with the joy and gladness and warm affection that I felt for my life in my dream. I released sorrow...of what kind it doesn't matter...

I listened to the message Water was sending, released the old obscure sorrows, let them go. I replaced them with gratefulness and acceptance and yes, peace.

And illumination.

Old Man Winter

On the weekend, North Wind blew his merciless, clearly cold message... Winter is on its way. Although Sun spread his light and rays from a cloudless sky, Wind shouted and stormed, warning me about the cold weather that was not far away. Leaves spun and danced through the air, leaving branches looking bare and forlorn, stark and black against the horizon.

And indeed, for the last two mornings, the temperature has dropped to a shivery -7 C. Outside, everything has a skim of white, sparkly frost, foretelling snow and ice in the near future. Driving becomes difficult, if vehicles are not in a garage. Yesterday morning, I attempted to drive to town, and discovered that I had no ice scraper in the truck. A credit card was put to good use shaving ribbons of frost from the windows.

I missed a few places I could not reach; it turned out these places were fairly crucial for driving. Blind spots abounded. I had to stop, and scrape the windows in a more satisfactory manner. Winter, with its attendant ice and snow, is not the time for laziness. A quick slash over the frost covered windows was not enough, yesterday morning. It was wiser to be cautious.

That's the message North Wind was giving me, when he blew the herald of Old Man Winter's parade. The self-expression of the North Wind is Logic and Wisdom. The Element of Air/Wind, that blew so ferociously for two days, was telling me to keep my mind active and clear, to work with my intuition, applying the dreaded Logic...and most of all for me, applying Wisdom.

But we live on a crossroad. Wind tunnels in from the North and the East. At times over the last few days, Wind blew from the NorthEast...

NorthEast Wind, from the website The Wild Rose, told me, in no uncertain terms, to re-member that I am the designer of my life's priorities. He gave me a challenge...I was to remember my set goals. I was to make decisions and choices, based on those resolutions and options I had already chosen.

He screeched at me, enveloping me with the warning that when I do not support those chosen goals, I am out of contact. With myself, my Sacred Image. I then resist, using negative behavior to fight back, with self-sabotage, procrastination and yes, laziness. Then I fail...all because I have forgotten my set priorities.

He also reminded me that when I align my goals with the yearnings of my Heart, Mind, Body, Soul and Spirit, I am at peace. I am aware and focussed, awake and impeccable. I am in balance and harmony within and without.

Wind was not just blowing in Old Man Winter...there were many whispers he sent to my soul when he blew from the North and the East. Reminders of the path I chose to follow, reminders of how good I feel when I walk that path with ease and peace.

And how badly I feel, when I forget my set goals.

Old Man Winter is breathing his icy, clear breath over the landscape this day. And along with North and East Wind, the cold Air once more sharpens my resolve.