Out of the Many ONE

A small group of people are passionately expressing their opinions about the topic under discussion. My dream camera focuses on each face in turn. Suddenly I am the one speaking. Quietly but firmly I say, "the truth is that the more each one of us becomes our true self, the more all of us become ONE. Becoming our true self connects us all at the core of the ONE who created us, and there we are all the same." And then I woke up.

"What was that?" I wondered upon waking. The words burned in my reflective mirror throughout the day. I looked at each person I encountered from a new perspective. "How could I ever be ONE with them?" my thoughts challenged me. I was flooded with duality thinking, those human separations of me from you, right from wrong, always from never.

E Pluribus Unum; Out of the Many, One. It's been right there on our currency and coin for hundreds of years. I knew it, understood it, embraced it and repeated it. After my dream, the onion of understanding peeled away another layer and I was seeing with new eyes. In the 70's the word Namaste was used frequently among spiritual study groups. Translated for newcomers to the word as, "the divine in me sees the divine in you." I went to the grocery store one day determined to try this out. Entering the store I focused silent energy on a man resting on his cart, with his back to me. I directed all my love and energy toward him with the thought, "the divine in me sees the divine in you." repeating it several times in my head.

After just a few seconds he turned completely around and locked eyes with me. I nodded kindly and just kept pushing my cart into the produce aisle. Just a quirk I told myself. So I tried it again and again as I filled my cart from my grocery list. Only once was I unable to connect. I felt a kind of thick wall of energy blocking one woman from acknowledging the directive of my thoughts. The experience changed ME. I became more aware than ever that on a deep level all our roots tangle and touch in the ONEness of our creation. We do not move forward by pulling away from our centering place.

During every volatile political season, duality terms are shouted from every microphone, podium, headline and newscast. While many candidates say UNITY is what they're seeking, duality is the vehicle that drives the journey.

This reflection is not intended to be a political forum. But my mirror caught the reality reflection of my outer world while my dream spoke the truth of my inner world. Which to complicate things further, is ALL ONE WORLD. Out of the many, ONE. Becoming our true selves connects us as ONE at the core. I believe that. I'm trying to BE-LIVE that as well.

Your thoughts?

Now I'm Happy!

Her tiny hands gripped the wooden spoon forcing Chocolate Chips to rise and fall like waves into the creamy mocha-colored dough. Eggs leapt Humpty Dumpty style off the edge of the bowl, shiny yellow centers disappearing in the rotary blades. Her eyes grew wide, her questions flowed. "Where did the eggs go, Grandma?" She noted that sugar came in two colors white and brown, but they also disappeared into the mix. In her throat she made the mmm mm anticipation sound; something good was going to come out of this, she expected it.

Before today her experience of cookies came from choosing them out of the package. Or picking them off the shelf at the grocery store. But today, she KNEW she was able to make this magical taste herself. She glowed with her newly realized skill. Today at 3 she discovered that putting things together could make them even better then having them separately. Her satisfaction with being a part of the process showed in her deep sighs. Her body trembled with joy.

"Now I'm Happy!", she said several times to no particular audience. Just an honest child's declaration of feeling joy in the moment.

I don't recall the last time I made that statement aloud. Do you? What a thrill to experience something for the FIRST time, no matter how many times we've experienced it before.

NOW, I'M HAPPY! I'm going to count the number of times I become aware of that clarity today. I invite you to play along. . .

The Eyes Have It.

Headline news held two striking images for me this week. The close-up pictures of the eyes of top Olympic athletes as they began each competition. And, in contrast, the eyes of the Russian soldiers preparing to demolish the State of Georgia.

In the eyes of the athletes I read determination, calculated moves, the drive to succeed and show their BEST performance, and HOPE. A great fire of depth, clarity and expectation. Dominant in the eyes of the soldiers I read a shallow, glazed-over look. Determined? Yes. Calculated? Perhaps. A drive to succeed? I couldn't see that but it might have been there. HOPE? That's what was missing in my view of their eyes.

I read the contrast between being YOUR BEST and BESTing your neighbors! A clarity in the eyes of those with their eyes on their own pre-set goals versus lack of clarity in the eyes of those who were following the goals set for them by others.

Often both sets of eyes burned into me from side by side positions on MSM's home page. Too starkly contrasted to miss. Which story did I want to read first? Which filled me with joy, satisfaction and hope? And which story shredded my heart, pulled out the protective mother bear emotions and made me want to gather up the torn bodies, lives and dreams of people whose eyes carried shock, disbelief, fear and hopelessness? A rhetorical question to which you already know the answer.

The Eyes Have It. What will you read in the eyes you encounter today and over this next week? Even those in the mirror.

Small World???

We all saw the breaking news during the Olympic coverage, couple attacked while visiting a tourist attraction. A collective, compassionate sigh was heard around the world. When it was announced that it was an American couple, a collective American sigh was felt across the ocean. In Minnesota another holding of breath and then a sigh was felt when the couple's identity was noted to be from that state. As the victim's names were released, one dead and one in intensive care with stab wounds, the city of Lakeville, MN began to feel the pain and loss. Throughout the state the pain and loss became more real as well. These people had touched many lives through their well known family floral business and civic involvement. And of course the family, friends, neighbors who knew them best, suffered most.

There, I believed, the pain came to rest. Not so. I was checking out a family funeral in the Beaver Dam, Wisconsin newspaper. The local church noted the Olympic couple's death as one of the denomination's family. The denomination' community shared by so many.

It was then I became crystal clear how the pebble dropping in the pond ANYwhere, effected people EVERYwhere. Count the number of 'communities' touched by this one event. Unfortunately, a negative life event, but masses touched just the same.

If we were more acutely aware how the actions of just one person could impact the people in the farthest corner's of this small world, would we live our lives differently? We could all begin today, right now, making sure our thoughts, words and deeds sent out positive ripples to stroke the face, move the flowers, carry the music of positive life to 'family' we never met.

Are you game to try?

What's in YOUR toolbox?

Everyone carries a toolbox. I've seen a stall box, whine box, get 'er done box among others.

One person wears out the tools and his/her welcome by using the whine box too often. "I could do better BUT THEY give me too much to deal with. I'm expected to do everything myself! I have no time for fun, I'm working ALL the time." Tears have top priority in the box and they effectively turn the attention from the problems of others to pity for the self. Thus avoiding resolving the issues at hand.

The stall box holds arguments, excuses, distractions enough to loop constantly 24/7, with the intention of wearing out the opposition before being required to respond. "Why should I? I did it yesterday. Who said so? Not now. I have to so something else first." Thus avoiding resolving the issues at hand.

Get 'er done toolbox grabs at anything available to get it over with, with no concern for doing it 'right'. A hammer to fix the screw on glasses kind of response. "So there, I did it, don't ask me again." Spray painting the symptoms to hide the deeper issues. The kind of response that causes used cars to crash, bridges to fall down, relationships to shrivel in confusion. Like putting band aids on earthquake sites.

Despondency toolboxes carry volumes of past failures, shattered dreams, self recriminating reasons for not trying again. "What do you expect from me? I never do anything right. I screwed up before I'll scew up again."

Toolboxes have traditionally been used to FIX things. Maybe the rusty hinges need to be reoiled to stop the squeaks. Or maybe it is self-gift time to replace it?

What's in YOUR toolbox?

Turtle Teacher

A 30” snapping turtle bellied her way across our freshly cut lawn last week. She quickly retracted her extended neck when the crank on my opening window alerted her to possible danger. Within a few minutes, 5 curious adults and as many children surrounded her at a safe distance to themselves; wondering why she was so far from home in our suburb. I chose to think she was exploring a new path; striking out on a journey of independence. She rested in fern protected rocks for the night. By sunrise the next morning she was halfway across the neighbor’s yard heading west by northwest at Slowski speed. I smiled at her determination to proceed at her own pace toward destinations known only to her. But I lost my smile later that day when I heard that a well-meaning neighbor picked her up and carried her the length of a football field back in the direction from which she just came. He deposited her in a shallow water runoff ditch he assumed was her home.

Well-meaning folk often try to send people back where they came from. When your journey crosses their path and they determine you’re zinging their comfort zone.

I love the 4th of July/Independence Day Celebration. For one day we wave and wear red, white and blue, make music, delight in abundant food and togetherness. It is my yearly reminder that we the people are stronger when we are independent, interdependently. You know what I mean?

As a nation we have sometimes been the well-meaning neighbor who tried to put the turtle back where it ‘belonged’. We have intruded on the journey of a country, a culture, a religious sect or lifestyle that has zinged our comfort zone and sent them in a new direction; for their own good of course.

People have tried to move me in another direction too when my questions, perspectives, non-traditional thinking has zinged their comfort zone. I’ve been nudged out of religious organizations for questioning whether living sequential lifetimes may be possible; that dreamtime consciousness takes us to realms not known in body consciousness; that we would be enriched if we saw the Source of All from collective points of view, instead of possessively guarding the vision passed down from our singular heritage. We are a contradictory life-form, we humans, we put in windows to let in the light, then cover them with shades to keep that same light out. Selective sight.

I believe true Independence, the ability and courage to make right decisions based on our center of truth, no matter how alienating, isolating and uncomfortable that becomes, is at the center of healthy Interdependence. Like strong trees each reaching for their own light while rooted in the same soil with others doing the same, that then creates a unity called forest. Out of the many—ONE; never ceasing to appreciate the continuing contribution of the many.

Whenever we wave our red, white, and blue, star studded flag we are signaling that we are one of those forests in this part of planet earth. We raise our collective voices to other forests announcing that we rejoice in the Independence of each amidst the Interdependence of many. That first we are Independent persons within a forest of Interdependent people, within all forests whose roots entwine deeply into the planet and life-force we all call home. Sea to shining sea is not our personal bookend. That sea flows to, through and beyond our forest to sister and brother forests globally.

I’m watching for that turtle to appear again. To persist on her path to independence no matter how many times she zings our comfort zone in this neck of the forest.

Questioning the Questions

I have always been a questioner. How does toothpaste get into the tube? Who invented shampoo? If God created everything, who or what created God? How long is forever? Why does sadness hurt physically? What will I experience when my spirit leaves my body? If the universe is a circle then if I go far enough toward Heaven won't I end up going toward Hell? Or vice versa? If I don't believe in Heaven or Hell what keeps me accountable on my spiritual path? How much wood, would a woodchuck chuck, if a woodchuck could chuck wood? Beautiful, wonder-filled, delicious questions.

Questions make me push the parameters of the moment and consider answers ranging from the sacred to the mundane. Questions play with my brain the way champagne bubbles tickle my nose. Searching the answers leads me to thoughts, places, actions I may not have otherwise considered exploring. Questions are like snake tongues darting out ahead of the body to taste what's coming. (and checking in two directions at once by the way.) Or, like soapy bubbles released from a wand, tumbling waywardly, and rocking with a rainbow reflection of all the directions of my surroundings. Theologians have challenged me to 'live the questions'. There was a time I nodded knowingly and with absolute confidence that I understood what that meant. Lately, I am less certain about what I absolutely know. The King of Siam (The King and I) was clear about that.

Along the way I discovered some questions had edges to them like serrated knives cutting instead of inviting me on a journey of discovery. Questions like, "Who do you think you are?" Or, "Are you stupid or what?" (I always thought I was the or what, whatever that meant.) Questions like "What makes you think you're so smart?, "Can't you do anything right?, "Why do you ask so many questions?" All asked to intimidate, humiliate, pour out negative energy on a flame of potential. These are not just questions asked of children, as they may have originally sounded. Even in this second third of my life, I've been asked these questions. They knock that bubble right out of the air, put a sting into the champagne's tickle, they have expelled the 'delish' right out of delicious. These questioners were not enjoying the open window on a new thought. They were slamming the window shut while defending their own impatience, ignorance, perceived power, or, I don't know, just being mean perhaps.

Which raises more questions. How much hate or anger does it require to pound another personality into oblivion? How long does it take the pounded one to pop out the dents and recover? How does the powerful feeling 'feel' when stolen from another through intimidation? What would happen to that same power if it were used with uplifting words and actions? Should we ever reach an age when we're too old to ask questions? If there is a next life, may we ask questions there? Is there always an 'answer' to every question? What does life ask of me? What do I ask of life? What should I have for lunch today?