The long view

A life is just a life, no more than that, but no less either. This is one of the gifts age 60 has given me. It's a gift that is not possible before this age. The long view. The wider perspective.

It's a good thing it's not possible to know that life is just a life during the 20s, 30s, 40s. We're meant to strive and struggle, try to understand ourselves, expand our fiefdoms by partnering, marrying, having kids. We're meant to strive and struggle at work, too, during early adulthood. It's a rather significant chunk of a life.

Before age 50 (in general, I'm not talking about everyone of course) we have to wonder if we should have or could have, or if, going forward, we should or could _____________ (fill in the blank). At 50, in general, all the particulars that seemed crucial earlier in life become less important. OK, we aren't rocket scientists or brain surgeons or famous violinists, or we didn't live for a year in Paris as we had planned. We let go of ambitions that were never achieved, we begin to deeply appreciate the sweetness of our lives as they unfolded, not as we wished they had.

Life is so sweet at age 60, absolutely precious. I never, not ever, thought I would feel this way. The perspective is well worth the indignities of old age, including living in a society that is tragically ageist.

At least it is for me.

A friend said recently that earlier in life, we must be like a tree, we must grow tall and strong, produce beautiful foliage and delicious fruits. In old age it is our job to become the forest. I keep thinking about that idea, of becoming the forest. It resonates.

Today and tomorrow I'm gathering my wits about me prior to Monday morning when John, Manuel and I will pack our stuff in the Prius, drive through Pennsylvania, along the Susquehanna river. After Corning, we'll be officially in the land of the finger lakes.

For years, I've wanted to go up there. I've heard the call, but never did anything about it. This year I am 60. What the hell am I waiting for?

The condo where we're staying at Lake Canandaigua has a dock on the water and a panoramic view of the lake. The moon will be dark so if there's a clear night, I'll get to see the Milky Way. You can't imagine what this means to me.

We are going for hikes on trails with waterfalls, we'll visit the wineries and Canandaigua's little downtown. In the evenings we'll cook, watch movies, drink wine. We've got books and a jigsaw puzzle and wi-fi. We are so excited!

I hope to tune in to the wisdom of Hiawatha, of the Iroquois nation especially the Seneca, a tribe I've had a heart connection with for many years. I love my book of Seneca folktales and mythology. Those are some crazy stories they told! For instance, the creator of the world as we know it, Sky Mother, was pushed by her husband through a hole in the sky. If not for her fall, we would not be. It's interesting to think about!

I believe mythology arises from the landscape. I wonder if I'll be able to feel that from the land, or if the spirits will speak to me. I'm going to try to find the right wavelength, perhaps not possible in five days. It's worth a try.

A trip to the finger lakes is about to become a folktale in the Reyaverse, one of the stories of my life. It's just a life, that's all. It's no more than a life, but no less either. I look forward to adding this story to my myth cycle. It feels epic.

Shalom.

Spin Cycle

I haven't posted here in a few days, certainly not because I couldn't think of anything to write about. I have too much to write about. Several ideas have gotten tangled up inside my head. I need to sort through these ideas, detangle, defrizz. I need a deep mind conditioner! Is there such a thing?

What keeps coming up to the surface of my thoughts in recent days includes excitement about next week's trip to the Finger Lakes. I am SO EXCITED!

I'm also entertaining thoughts about the coming of fall which is right around the corner in Washington DC. Yay. I'm very grateful the earth spins on an axis, that our beautiful planet wobbles back and forth. If it didn't, there would be no seasons. If there were no seasons, there would be no spring flowers, the leaves would never turn colors. There would be no solstice. Life on earth would be very different, for sure. There would not be migrations most likely, and as for we humans, who would probably live on a narrow strip of the planet where conditions were hospitable, well, we humans would have never invented stories about resurrections and reincarnations because there would not be the season of spring, following on the heels of deep winter, from which to be inspired.

At least I imagine life would be very different. You see, these ideas are not yet fully formed.

I'm thinking about Jerusalem, how much I want to visit, and also Iceland, a place I have wanted to visit for many years. Do you know that the hot water that comes out of Icelandic faucets has been COOLED? Yes. The water comes out of the ground at 800 F. The land of fire and ice! It's on my bucket list.

I realized one reason I have problems when traveling is that I don't take good care of myself when I get outside my usual routines. I don't meditate or do any of my morning practice, I drink lots of coffee and eat everything including foods I know don't agree with me. I become cranky, can't sleep and my stomach gets extra dodgy - of course! There's a reason I take care of myself when I'm at home -- it really helps. I am resolved to take good care of myself when we're out of town next week and when I'm in Oregon for Thanksgiving. This may turn around the idea that I hate travelling. I hope so.

That's a whole other story, my decision to spend T-day with family this year. It's a departure from the old rules of Reya, i.e. Never Travel During the Holidays.

The cobwebs are being blown off many of my old rules, exposing them for what they are - just stories.

I hope I'll soon be in a place where I can develop some new stories and share them here. It might take awhile, you never know.

In the meantime, happy Thursday, y'all. Shalom.

Resurrections

I'm making my way, slowly but surely, through the book Zealot by Reza Asian. I am a very slow reader anyway, and when a book makes me think, well, the process slows even more because I'll read for awhile, then stop and think it through, sometimes re-read, let the ideas sink even deeper into the funky recesses of my mind.

I'm in the second half of the book, in which he talks about the rift between James and Paul, and the shift of the movement from a sub-culture of Judaism into a separate religion. It's all about the resurrection! I knew that, but it never sank in, how powerful this idea would be to first and second century people of the Roman Empire.

In Hinduism, resurrection is rather normal. Divine beings incarnate often as human presences in the world. There are a million tales of the avatars of the gods. They are fabulous stories, by the way, in case you've never read any of them. Confusing, yes, but very fun, dramatic, exciting and uplifting, too.

I had never made the connection between Hinduism and Christianity before. Jesus was an avatar of a divine being, according to Paul. That made the tradition decidedly not Jewish. There were other factors, too, of course.

I see resurrections often, don't you? Just the other day, I saw a dead cicada on the sidewalk. Instead of sweeping him up and putting him in the trash, I moved him out of the way (so I wouldn't step on him), then went on about my day. About an hour later when I came back to the chateau, he was gone.

Resurrected! Or ... something ate him, always a possibility with all the birds around here, not to mention hornets or other large, carnivorous insects. Maybe he wasn't quite dead yet and flew away. Who knows?

I remember Jake at the end of his life, so weak and sickly I thought he would expire at any moment, but when I took him to the vet to do the dirty deed, he was suddenly filled with vigor and actually tried to escape the room of death. It was a horrible moment, believe me! And - not exactly a resurrection, but something akin to it. Eventually he settled down and they injected him and then he was gone for real. Even remembering it makes me want to throw up.

The man, Jesus, was crucified like many others. The Romans were brutal! But then something happened. No one can say what it was for sure. Everyone has an idea about it, depending on their faith or lack thereof. But something happened! And the world has never been the same. It is so interesting to think about.

For now, all thoughts of resurrection must be put aside so I can attend to the living clients who are scheduled to come get some healing today. Life is good and I am grateful. Shalom.

I remember the olden days

The weather here explains everything. Yesterday was thick and dank smelling, a non day of gloomy overcast with an occasional, spitting rain. It was not hot but so muggy I closed all the windows and used the A/C. Just like the weather (of course) I was dark and moody, only rising out of my malaise to work.

The weather gathered a bunch of crappy energy, then swept it away with the rain, leaving the landscape fresh and crisp this morning. The air was light. It was silver and gold, very unusual in August. My mind and heart were full of silver and gold light, tra-la. It was a glorious day that felt divine and ethereal, kind of perfect for the gathering to honor the 50th anniversary of the March on Washington.

Every time there's a sizable demo, busses bring demonstrator/marchers to RFK stadium, on the eastern edge of Capitol Hill. The people walk from there to the mall, through Lincoln Park and down East Capitol street. The vibe, depending on the demo, can be sweet, inspiring, frightening or creepy. God bless America that we can express our opinions openly. We are very lucky.

Sadly I was unable to get down to the mall to check out the energy, but I chatted briefly with a few of the people who walked past the chateau on their way. Lovely people.

I only saw my mother cry three times. Once was the day Martin Luther King was assassinated. It was a very scary time. The president was assassinated and his brother, and then MLK. It felt like we were about to fall into the abyss. My parents were very brave to work openly for Civil Rights.

I'm thinking of them today, honoring their courage and integrity. And I marvel at all that has changed since that day. I know there's more work to do, but in my life so much has happened. It's kind of miraculous.

Shalom.

People on their way to the mall. That woman on the far left, facing away, arms akimbo - she was here 50 years ago. She was very spry.

Home Sweet Home

It has been an odd few days since I returned from my friends' house on the river. Like me, they relate quite easily to the dead - a good thing since that landscape, the Whitings Neck of the Potomac river, is thick with ghosts. After they bought the house and began spending time there, the first layer of ghostly presence they perceived was the river of Civil War dead. It's not surprising since the Antietam/Sharpsburg battlefield is only a few miles away.

There are layers of ghosts that somehow got stuck on their way from point A to point B, including one Victorian ghost who shows up in dreams, saying she needs horsehair. I saw her over the weekend, but one of my friends had already dreamed about her. There are Indian ghosts, too, who come and go, depending on the situation. Things move around in their house, lights flicker or go off, or - as happened over the weekend - in the middle of the night while we were all fast asleep, a light turned itself on, waking up one of my friends. One time they were doing the dishes when a bell in the other room started ringing. Tom turned to Rod and said, "An angel has just gotten his wings." They laughed and kept washing dishes.

These are my people.

For these friends, as is true for me, this is completely normal, and for them as for me, quite entertaining. It is such a relief to spend time with other people who sense the dead. I don't feel as if I have to keep explaining myself as I do with many DC friends. I live in a city in which rationality is highly valued, where emotions, sensitivities and anything "woo-woo" is frowned upon or made fun of. Sometimes I chafe at the way people dismiss my world view, other times I don't care. But I surely love spending time with like minded folks, hence re-entry into cerebral DC can be kind of a shock.

Ah, am I whinging? I will stop right now. I love my beautiful, powerful, wounded city including my friends who value rationality over everything.

Life is good and I am grateful. And there's no place like home.

Shalom.

How brightly does your light shine?

Brother Sun dancing on the surface of the Potomac River. Charismatic!!

What is charisma? Is it the same as charm? Is it about being sexy? Perhaps it has something to do with looks - but not necessarily. I'm thinking about it while reading Zealot, by Reza Asian. The book is about the life and times of Jesus of Nazareth. Well - wow - is it interesting!

The two things about Jesus that interest me at the moment are his talents as a faith healer and his charisma.

About his skills in healing, there is no argument. Everyone who ever wrote about him - in the bible and elsewhere (for instance, Roman historians) - wrote extensively about how he healed the sick and exorcized demons from the possessed. Everyone agreed he was really good.

He healed for free. Now that is really something. Wow.

And he drew large crowds, not because his message was brand new or unique - there were a lot of self proclaimed messiahs at that moment in history, preaching more or less the same thing - but they didn't have "it." You know - IT. But Jesus did. It's interesting to think about.

In the Reyaverse, each of us hosts a nature soul. We have other souls, too, that come and go from our bodies and the bodies of others. But the nature soul is singular. It incarnates as a human only once. It's a personal soul. After incarnating once, it returns to an earthly form. It incarnates as a forest or mountain, a river or meadow, or a swamp. A desert. You know.

People who are charismatic have very powerful nature souls. Encountering these people causes reactions similar to what happens when we see mountain ranges or the sea. We can't help but say, "Oh wow." A powerful nature soul inspires and creates awe in a way that's almost separate from the personality of the person hosting that soul.

It isn't as rare as it would seem, actually. Public figures of every kind often have powerful nature souls. Michelle Obama is a good example. No matter how you feel about her as a person, surely you can see she radiates something very powerful, yes? I'm sure there are sports figures who have powerful nature souls. I'm not a sports person so wouldn't know the names. Of course there are many movie stars and musicians who have incredible nature souls. Something about them, even if you don't appreciate their personalities, makes you stop and take notice. Mick Jagger has a very powerful nature soul. Good lord he is eternal. So is the Dalai Lama. Elvis. Bill Clinton. I could go on, but I'm sure you get my meaning, yes?

Charisma also entails bringing through the body a particular energy, something people are passionate about, something they really really want. There is a form of divine energy that comes through any true charismatic. Sometimes it comes through in a very pure way. I think of Edgar Cayce for example, or Miles Davis, Martin Luther King, Princess Di. For others, it gets distorted and comes out all wrong. For instance: Alistair Crowley. Poor fellow. All the crazy cult leaders channel the divine in a very twisted way. They have IT, but things go terribly wrong. I wonder why.

JFK was charismatic, Reagan, too. But not every president is, nor is every rock star or spiritual leader. I wonder why?

Jesus brought good news and healing to the people of first century Palestine. Believe me, those people needed good news. What a time. Holy cow.

My new motto: It could be worse. This could be first century Jerusalem. Oh yeah. I am very lucky to be right here and right now, I surely am! Lucky, too, I think, that not only is my nature soul not so potent, but I do not channel anything in particular that people want. I am not charismatic, I'm invisible except to certain people at certain times. I can mediate between the worlds for those who seek to contact the powers of healing and light, but I do not personally channel it. Thank god.

It's a good life. I'm grateful. Shalom.

They look like discarded pie charts.

The livin' is easy

Rose hips. Fall is coming.

Last summer was hot, difficult, onerous. In word: yuck! Because it was awful, I became determined to plan ahead, to make sure I would get outta Dodge this summer. For once, I made solid plans to get out. I made reservations, I made sure.

In two weeks my ex housemates and I are going to Lake Canandaigua, one of the finger lakes of New York state. I chose the location because I found a really nice condo on YRBO, with a dock on the water and a panoramic view of the lake. We will rent kayaks, we will take wine tours, we will cook and watch movies and drink wine and oh - we are so excited!

My goals for the finger lakes trip include learning how to pronounce the name of the lake, and learning all I can about the region - of course. I am such a nerd. I've been reading about the geology which is really cool. The finger lakes were under water for a long time, then the ground rose. The original finger lakes were riverbeds. Then the ice came down and gouged out the riverbeds. Later the ice melted and filled the lakes. What a dramatic history.

The Indian lore about the area is wonderful, too. It was said that when the Great Spirit touched the earth to bless her, his fingerprints remained on the land. This is the mythical understanding of the region's history, also dramatic and beautiful. In the Reyaverse, both versions are true.

I'm re-reading Seneca Indian myths and folktales, and thinking a lot about the nations that inhabited that land. They were so democratic - and matriarchal! - wow. I hope to talk to some of the ghosts and spirits of those people, if I can locate the right frequency, that is. I'll only be there for five days.

Tomorrow I'm heading up to the mountains to stay with friends in their house tucked into the Little White Neck of the Potomac River. I love the land up there, but far more than that I look forward to spending a weekend with these friends who are so dear to me, it's kind of ridiculous.

Ironic that I planned these getaways assuming this summer would be punishing like the season usually is. Instead, summer has been wonderful. I've felt good, slept well and been unencumbered by drama. The weather has been great. We've had an abundance of Colorado summer days, plentiful rain, some heat but not too much. In the midatlantic swamp, a summer like this is a miracle!

The journeys out of DC are not about surviving the summer, as I thought they would be. They are blessings, the cream at the top of the bottle.

Life is good and I am grateful. Lucky, too. Shalom.

I'm outta here.