Start Where You Are

I do believe in angels, I do I do I do. What I believe is that there are healing, guiding forces of nature that are not (to me) about wings or robes or how big they are, it's about a singular presence that radiates benevolence and wisdom. They do smell like Johnson's Baby Powder, as Barbara Martin mentioned, but that's not what is most interesting to me. It's the energy they convey. When angelic light is shining on me, it's unmistakeable. At least according to the Cosmology of Reya.

From out of the nowhere I miraculously I have access to my workspace more often during the month of October than I usually do (two offices, three practitioners means we can't all have access at the same time). Greater access means I can book more sessions. More work equals more money. Imagine me sighing with relief. Everything is going to be alright. Thanks brothers and sisters of angelic disposition! Thank you so much!!

One quick disclaimer about yesterday's post: I've known for days that my bank card number was stolen. I have had plenty of time to freak out, cry, beat my head against the wall, clench my fist and shake it at the heavens while cursing, kick the furniture, etc. I didn't write about it until I could present myself as calm and cool. Ha!

Running on Empty

The virtual world - is it real or not real? I know it's not a part of the earthly plane, I know you can't hold the virtual world in your hand, but I think it is real, depending on how you define that word.

Someone told me recently that you can buy virtual weapons used in internet games, on Ebay. It's true! Apparently if you're good at these games, you can win weapons that can subsequently be traded or sold. But on Ebay?? Wow. The person who told me this said, "Yes on Ebay - for REAL money."

But what IS real money? The paper and coins we trade back and forth aren't worth anything, except as symbols of wealth. They used to represent actual gold or silver stored away - maybe at Fort Knox? - but that ended long ago.

In recent years money has moved even further into the realm of the abstract. Now it's often represented by a number on a computer screen at the bank, accessible by using a number embedded in a magnetic strip on a bank card. When people speak of "identity theft," they're talking about numerical theft, actually.

Someone figured out how to access my bank card number last week, emptied my bank accounts so fast it's kind of amazing. My bank is pretty good about these things; they stopped the looting as soon as they could, and may even be able, at some point, to return some of my money to me.

I've had a few days to freak out about this; I'm feeling more resolute about it this morning, thinking how funny it is that I have nothing in the way of numerical wealth, especially in the wake of the trips I took last summer, journeys that took a heavy toll on my savings account. They stole all I had, but it wasn't much. I wonder if they were disappointed?

The truth is, my wealth can't be stolen by way of a bank card number because I am rich in family, friends, time, ideas, and health.

Kind of ironic, really. They could take my money, but they didn't touch my wealth, nor did they take my identity. In a way this situation is kind of liberating. Don't ask me to explain what I mean by that, I'm not sure myself. It's kind of weird.

As for the people who stole my numerical identity, I offer the only curse I ever dare put out into the world, a curse that can be a blessing, depending on the behavior of the people involved: May all you do return to you three times. Oh yeah.

City of Angels

"Jewish mysticism tells us that angels are guiding us all the time. If we are open to them, they will help us on our path and remind us of our destiny."

Do you believe in angels? I do. I often feel their presence. Sometimes I feel I am allowed to "see" them, in my mind's eye. They are so bright, in my imagination, that it hurts to gaze directly, but I do get the feeling they are white. From my "real" eyes I believe I'm catching a glimpse anytime I see feathery cloud formations like these, or when the first great cumulus clouds arrive in springtime. Clouds are the angelic wardrobe of choice.

Of course I'm not the first person to believe in angels nor am I likely to be the last. As you would expect, angels and their stories are featured in many classic religious texts. Angels show up all the time in the arts, too, in songs, poems, books, paintings, plays and movies. The picture that comes to mind right now is of that movie "Michael" starring John Travolta as the angel with a sweet tooth for all the pleasures of human experience. So cute!

The film Wings of Desire is one of my all time favorites. Bruno Ganz as an angel in a trenchcoat, with slicked back hair? All I can say is wow.



During the middle ages, Judaism, Christianity and Islam got pretty weird. It was a tough time for monotheism, whew! Though I've never read the Midrash or Talmud, I've gleened bits and pieces of what came into the minds of those rabbis, sitting around all night drinking red wine and arguing theology, while perhaps they were being persecuted, or the plague was running wild through their shtetls.

One thing medieval rabbis thought a lot about were angels. I've read various accounts, so I hope I'm not making up any part of the following. These ideas about angels really illuminate the theological mindset of that time period. Don't ask me to come to any conclusions about that moment in European history - all I know for sure is: it was weird.



Angels, according to the Talmud, are constantly being created as a result of God making proclamations. They can be as small as a pea or as large as 1/3 the side of the earth. Each comes with one job, a singular duty. Some last only a fraction of a second, if they complete their task quickly. Some stick around for hundreds of years. Also, the so called "impulse to evil" has no effect on angels, according to the Talmud. They are never tempted to go to the dark side, though they can make mistakes.

Medieval European Jewish angels were very complicated beings like characters in a play.

I don't believe in anything "supernatural." To me, angels are as miraculous - and normal - as snowflakes and rainbows. According to the cosmology of Reya, angels are part of the complex network of the natural world. They do project a very pure energy, like one tone played over and over - a beautiful tone, focused and clear.

The angel "wings" in these pics drifted over DC during the afternoon of this perfect autumn day. Thanks, brothers and sisters, for the visit today. It's always great to notice when you're around. Fly high brothers! See you soon!

Our Artful Species

Sandy MoreDoh said, Do you give lectures on how to get your creative energy back?

Oh yeah. I'll give a lecture on anything at a moment's notice whether I know what I'm talking about or not. Be very careful what you ask for!

I believe everyone has bucketsful of creative energy. The popularity of books like The Artist's Way by Julia Cameron (she has a website, too) would seem to contradict my theory, but her book, which is excellent, seems to me to be more about learning how to loosen up, how to let go of self-consciousness, than about finding some allegedly "lost" creativity.

Some people simply can't see or recognize their own creativity. To those folks I suggest that they take the time to remember their dreams. What could be more artfully imaginative? Sometimes all you have to do is notice that you're already creative.

For some it's a matter of perfectionism. Yes there will always be someone who is better at painting or dancing or cooking, but you should never let that stop you from doing your own thing. Go ahead and make fun of my singing; I will sing anyway. It is my birthright! Not the singing specifically, but my right to express myself creatively. (Earplugs can be a good solution for the squeamish when I'm in a singing mood. Sometimes even I feel like wearing them. Yet I sing on. Why not?)

Other people don't give themselves any time for creative expression. That's why Cameron's three morning pages is such a great exercise. If you're really too busy to express yourself creatively, something about your life has gone terribly wrong. Why aren't you singing in the shower, making up songs on your drive to work? Creating playlists for your ipod for the commute? Your choice of clothing, hairstyle, make-up can all be outlets for your inner artist and any job - every job - can provide opportunities for creativity. Believe me! Though time is sometimes a deciding factor, I think more often, restricted creative expression is usually about not noticing or self consciousness than a matter of time.

Blogging brings out the creative energy in a truly democratic way. Blogs with themes, blogs without themes, with or without illustrations or photos, anonymous or not - blogging is creative open territory where we each set our own boundaries (sometimes the hard way) and share our lives, views and opinions, drawings, recipes, and photos with each other. All together we create an artists' community unlike any that has existed until now.

Sandy, just let 'er rip, write whatever you want - here in the comments section, on your own blog (if you have one), around the borders of your grocery shopping list. Switch on the music and dance around, go get The Artist's Way. Your creative energy is right there, just waiting to be accessed, or noticed. You go girl. Oh yeah.

A Day in the Kitchen

In a few minutes I will give my hands a good scrub, roll up my sleeves, put on a big-ass apron and start cooking. Today I'm making stew for fifty people. Yes, fifty.

I love to cook, especially on a nice crisp autumn day like today, and, too, stew isn't hard. After the chopping it's mostly a matter of keeping an eye on the slow simmering. That's why I volunteered in the first place. Well, that and the fact that my roommate said he was hosting his sister's wedding rehearsal dinner. How many people can take part in a wedding? I imagined 15 at the most. But it turns out that these days rehearsal dinners include everyone in from out of town for the wedding.

Hence, stew for fifty. So there will be a LOT of chopping, oh yeah. A LOT of simmering.

This process will be photodocumented, I promise. Have a wonderful Thursday!

Remembrance

Morning light on Yom Kippur.

Jake died exactly three months ago. Some days it feels like years since I had to say goodbye to him. Sometimes, it feels like he should still be here, curled up in his overstuffed rocker. Death is incomprehensible, to me at least.

The journeys I took this summer, the friends I re-connected with, the changes of scenery and routine were intensely healing and in some way created a sense of increased distance from all the emotions stirred up on that sad day. Though I can access the grief that lay so heavy on my heart all summer (from before he died, even), it is no longer acute. The passage of time/space really does heal all wounds!

Last night for the first time I dreamed of Jake. There was nothing fancy about the dream. I found his leash and got some plastic bags, took him for a walk. We had another dog with us but the focus in the dream was on Jake, his soft gold fur and beautiful brown eyes. It was not a lucid dream, but I kept thinking, "It's so good to see Jake!" as if I knew in the dream we had been separated. He seemed rather nonchalant about our reunion. Oh well. It was a sweet dream, reassuring in an autumnal, melancholy way.

What is remembered, lives.


REMEMBERING

There are threads of old sound heard over and over
phrases of Shakespeare or Mozart the slender
wands of the auroras playing out from them
into dark time the passing of a few
migrants high in the night far from the ancient flocks
far from the rest of the words far from the instruments

--M.S. Merwyn



God's crepuscular ray outfit shortly before sunset on Yom Kippur.

Yom Kippured

Yesterday turned out to be one of my favorite Yom Kippurs of all time. Part of that I owe to the wonderful clients who came to see me, each in a very different place; one about to give birth, another wondering what happened to her youth and vitality, one who is a good friend, and finally a Reiki student, luminous and reverent.

Variety was part of the magic of yesterday in the weather, too. Sunny, breezy and warm, then overcast, dark and threatening, then clear with puffy clouds, then overcast again, etc.

Before work I walked to Eastern Market to check out the vibe of the day. On the way, a car pulled out in front of me while I was crossing the street. Nothing unusual there. The miracle was when he stopped, rolled down his window and said, "Sorry I almost ran over you - I'm still kind of sleepy."

Whoa.

DC drivers never ever, not EVER, apologize. I knew right then that God was with me. A few minutes later I overheard a little girl asking her mother, "Does God have eyelashes?" Nice, eh? Some guy started a conversation just as I left Eastern Market, then walked with me for several blocks, just chatting. This, too, rarely happens between strangers in DC, even on Capitol Hill. The Big Divine Wisdom and Love was definitely close all day.

Because I didn't need to review the year just past, God and I engaged in several lively conversations about what's ahead for me. We talked about what I want for my old age, for instance. Here's the list that includes what I don't already have (such as my great good health - thank you God!!)

What I Want for Old Age, thanks for asking:

1. A husband
2. Eat-in kitchen
3. Two dogs
4. A porch with rockers
5. Stars

Right before sunset, God appeared in his crepuscular ray outfit. It was a very stylish hail and farewell, a perfect end to an exquisite holiday. Happy New Year, y'all. L'chaim!