Kundalini Splendor

The Religion and Poetry of Nature

by Jay Valusek

“And I am thinking: maybe just looking and listening/is the real work./Maybe the world, without us,/is the real poem.” —Mary Oliver

Thirty minutes after the sun dropped behind the mountains last night, I set out westward on the trail around McIntosh Lake, huddled in my coat and gloves, walking into nightfall.

As the sky darkened, I noticed my shadow stretching out subtly before me. Turning around to see where the light was coming from, this far from the street, I saw the moon rising in the east, nearly full, bright as a headlamp. It stopped me with its familiar yet mysterious beauty. An owl hooted just once from the barren branches of a cottonwood tree overlooking a field of silent prairie dog mounds. My head snapped sideways. Peering into the dark, I detected the presence of the great winged predator, barely visible against the blue-black sky.

For a moment, I was transfixed by the primordial sensation of being at home in the world, breathing in the out-breath of plants, the precious air. Just another animal shivering beneath the moon. Hungering for something hidden in the darkness. Inhabiting again the natural habitat of the human heart—the religion and poetry of nature.

“There is in everything around us/a calm and holy religion,” says John Ruskin, “…a meek and blessed influence/stealing in as it were unaware upon the heart/…It is the poetry of Nature./It is that which uplifts the spirit within us…”

Way back in 1880, after Darwin’s publication of the theory of natural selection and the subsequent unraveling of the hegemony of religion in Victorian England, poet Matthew Arnold made this observation in his introduction to The English Poets: “More and more, humanity will discover that we have to turn to poetry to interpret life for us, to console us, to sustain us…Most of what passes with us for religion and philosophy will be replaced by poetry.”

I’m not sure his prognostication has come true, but for an increasing number of us, poetry rings with sacred overtones.

A hundred years after Arnold, Elizabeth Roberts and Elias Amidon, editors of Earth Prayers, write: “For many today, it is not religious prayer at all, but poetry, that they turn to in their search for spiritual nourishment.” Why? “Because so many conventional religious prayer books seem unable to consecrate the normal and the natural. Preoccupied with a world beyond this one, the revelatory power of the Earth goes unpraised.”

Mary Oliver, on the other hand, wants to make “a literature of praise.”

In her poetry in praise of nature, you find prayers made of grass. You hear, again, “the song you heard singing in the leaf/when you were a child.” You understand at last that “You do not have to be good./You do not have to walk on your knees/for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting./You only have to let the soft animal of your body/love what it loves.”

In Beauty and The Soul, Italian psychotherapist Piero Ferrucci says, “We are stressed, anxious, alienated, depressed, unhealthy, without really knowing why. What makes us sick is precisely our distance from nature…Deep down, we feel separated from a wisdom and a beauty which we cannot afford to lose, in fact from the source of all life…Nature is our home. To get back to it is to get in touch again with ourselves, to rediscover what we are made of.”

In Lectio Poetica, we let Mary Oliver’s words reconnect us with our true selves. Her poems are like natural habitats in which we immerse ourselves for a quiet hour. Like a walk in the woods or a stroll along the seashore, we experience the religion and poetry of nature. We find our place again in what she calls “the family of things.”

Join us this coming Sunday for a breath of air in the midst of the busy holiday season. Reconnect through poetry with the source of life. Or take a hike. Either one is good.

Our Next Gathering: Please RSVP
(Note: the gathering occurs in Longmont, CO)

Lectio Poetica is a contemplative practice that originated in the monastic tradition of the West. With poetry as our sacred text, it is appropriate for seekers of any worldview. We meet the 1st and 3rd Sundays of each month. Our next gathering will be Sunday, December 2, from 9:15-11:30 a.m. As always, please RSVP so we can plan accordingly.

Our Web Site: http://Lectio.JayEValusek.com

(image found on internet)

About December 21, 2012

Jose Arguelles first brought the attention of the world to this key date of the Mayan calendar—some 20 or even 30 years ago.  Since then, many writers and interpreters have turned their attention to the subject.  We have waited a very long time for this “target” date to occur—at last we will know—is the seeming prophecy authentic or just a mere happenstance—maybe even an honest misinterpretation?

Mayan calendars aside, this is a most important date in astrology (and astronomy) for on this date the sun, earth, and the center of our galaxy will fall into an alignment that only occurs every 26,000 years or so.  The results are not predictable.  Some think there will be world cataclysms, or perhaps great emissions of energy from explosions on the sun (which will upset the earth’s own magnetic field) or yet other major upsets in the natural order.

One often repeated prediction is that humanity (or some portions of it) will leap to another (higher) frequency and perhaps even “ascend” into another dimension.  Frankly, I think there is something to this theory—I perceived many years ago that worldwide transformation was taking place, that the inhabitants of this planet were in fact rising into a new phase of higher, more subtle vibrations, and that this phenomenon was part of the larger process of the evolution of the human species.

So—in many regards, such predictions are not new, but rather seem to convey greater urgency as we approach the key date of December 21, 2012.

Recently, I had a simple operation (cataract removal).  When the anesthetic was administered, I “went out like a light” and did not come back into normal consciousness until the operation was over—some 7 or 8 minutes later.  I had no awareness of the procedures being addressed to my physical body.   In fact, when I woke up, I thought the operation was just about to begin.

Where was I during this “sleep period”?   I was alive, clearly, but where was my awareness?  Did I endure a kind of “death state” in which the body continued to function but the mind was “frozen” into incapacity?

Is this the “sleep state” we enter at death?  Is it the “unconscious consciousness” we will experience if we are indeed wafted up into another sphere, a higher realm of being?  Will this process be part of the “divinization of matter” many writers have referred to (see especially Teihard du Chardin)?

Because of my personal life history, I tend to believe that virtually anything is possible.  I have often said that (referring to my own unexpected awakening), “If this is possible, anything is possible.”

(image found on Google)

Often, during the course of K. awakening, there will be "dry times", when nothing in particular seems to be happening.  We will then wonder to ourselves, "Have I done something wrong?  Was I tested and found unworthy to compete this process?   What can I do to return to my former state of joy and bliss?"

Evelyn Underhill, in her magnificent book called "Mysticism," describes these periods as the true "dark night" of the soul.  She says that for the mystic who has tasted God's presence, the loss is extreme, even more painful than the earlier dark period that may have preceded the initial awakening.

For many of us, it is as if we are now deprived of what has been a close companion--as if we had lost the key to a process which we welcomed as an exciting transformation of our inner being.  We miss our forward progress, even when it may have been painful at times.

Generally, such experiences are simply "episodes" and not permanent conditions.  Perhaps these are necessary "quiet times" permitting integration of our total experience.  Or, possibly, after a very long time, the process itself has in effect reached completion, or at least entered a new phase, when we can contemplate the trajectory of our extended journey, and enjoy "coming into safe harbor."

Now we can enjoy our state of inner tranquility and accept that silence and stillness also have much to offer.  Perhaps our new condition is not one of loss but arrival.

One of the great challenges of the Kundalini path is that it often separates you from those with whom you have been closest, including partners, family, friends, church groups--just about anyone you can think of with whom you have--till now--had most in common. You are now someone very different from the person they have related to before.  You have had deep experiences, traveled to other realms (so to speak) and are changed forever.  Often your prior associates are very uncomfortable with the new you--they may try to account for the transformation in terms that they can understand--claiming you are going though "a phase," that you have lost your sense of balance, that you have, in effect, abandoned them (for something else is now the center of your life.)

It takes a great deal of courage and strength to continue on what may be a most lonely journey (unless you are one of the lucky ones with companions on the path).  This article from "DailyOM" speaks specifically to this problem of isolation as it manifests not just in Kundalini awakening but also in other ways in our lives.

The article stresses the need to be sympathetic to those who feel distressed by your unique state.  At the same time, it is important to be true to yourself and your (often) newly discovered set of guidelines, for you are, in fact (if you are experiencing K. awakening) being transformed into a new being.  Remember the Bible verse that says you should "leave father and mother and follow me"?  I think this setting of priorities with the new life at the top is what is referred to in this passage.

It should also be noted that there are many ways of feeling like a "black sheep" in a herd of white sheep--those who are especially sensitive, artists, inventors, creators of all kinds--these frequently do not fit the norm, but often they are among the most valuable members of society precisely because they "follow their bliss" and do not conform to the norms adopted by the majority.




Today's DailyOM
http://www.dailyom.com/cgi-bin/display/adspolink.cgi?iid=281&aid=9273

November 27, 2012

One of a Kind
The Black Sheep

by Madisyn Taylor

When we move beyond comparisons and accept our differences, we appreciate the significance of our upbringing and socialization in each of our unique life's journey.


Many of us have had an experience in which we felt like the lone black sheep in a vast sea of white sheep. For some of us, however, this sense of not belonging runs more deeply and spans a period of many years. It is possible to feel like the black sheep in families and peer groups that are supportive, as well as in those that are not. Even if we receive no overt criticism regarding our values, there will likely be times when it seems that relatives and friends are humoring us or waiting for us to grow out of a phase. Sometimes we may even think we have been adopted because we are so different from our family members. These feelings are not a sign that we have failed in some way to connect with others. Rather, they should be perceived as the natural result of our willingness to articulate our individuality.

Many black sheep respond to the separateness they feel by pulling back from the very people to whom they might otherwise feel closest and embracing a different group with whom they enjoy a greater degree of commonality. But if you feel that your very nature has set you apart from your peers and relatives, consider that you chose long ago to be raised by a specific family and to come together with specific people so that you could have certain experiences that would contribute to your ongoing evolution. You may be much more sensitive than the people around you or more artistic, aware, spiritual, or imaginative. The disparate temperament of your values and those of your family or peers need not be a catalyst for interpersonal conflict. If you can move beyond comparisons and accept these differences, you will come to appreciate the significant role your upbringing and socialization have played in your life's unique journey. 

In time, most black sheep learn to embrace their differences and be thankful for those aspects of their individuality that set them apart from others. We cannot expect that our peers and relatives will suddenly choose to embrace our values and offer us the precise form of support we need. But we can acknowledge the importance of these individuals by devoting a portion of our energy to keeping these relationships healthy while continuing to define our own identities apart from them. 

DailyOM Website: http://www.dailyom.com/

(image found on google)

Dear friend Patricia wrote the following poem about "Penelope's Loom" (latest book of poems) and posted it on Amazon.  Many thanks, Patricia.  One of the tests of true friendship is the gift of putting a review post up on the Amazon site, so this one is deeply appreciated.



 FOR DOROTHY WALTERS AS I READ PENELOPE'S LOOM, November 24, 2012
By Patricia Lay Dorsey (Detroit, MI, USA)
 

I devour it whole
No longer nibbling at the edges
As with earlier books that I had
Savored for their delicate flavor
And unearthly taste

This time I am greedy
For your words, your wisdom
Your robust energy
As I sit in our grandmother's
Rocking chair with
November sun filtering
Through dirty windows and read
From end to beginning
From back to front

You take me places you have
Never taken me before
Inner and outer realms
Secular and sacred
Scarred and whole
Personal and universal
Silly and profound

I feel your tears on my cheeks
Hear your irrepressible laughter
See the twinkle in your eye
Pry open secret doors with
Keys long lost, now found
Experience howls of pain
And ecstasy unimagined
Till now

You have written many books
So why does this one
Speak to me so strongly

Perhaps because it shows
All sides of your multilayered
Being: spirit, flesh and mind
Lover, poet, professor
Maiden-mother-crone

Here you are fully your Self
Strands of past and present
Woven into a textured tapestry
By hands that shed, pick, batten
And take up both warp and weft
On Penelope's Loom

Patricia Lay-Dorsey
November 17, 2012

God's Letters
by Grace Schulman

When God thought up the world,
the alphabet letters
whistled in his crown,
where they were engraved
with a pen of fire,
each wanting to begin
the story of Creation.

S said, I am Soul.
I can Shine out
from within your creatures.
God replied, I know that,
but you are Sin, too.

L said, I am Love,
and I brush away malice.
God rejoined, Yes,
but you are Lie,
and falsehood is not
what I had in mind.

P said, I am Praise,
and where there's a celebration,
I Perform
in my Purple coat.
Yes, roared God,
but at the same time,
you are Pessimism—
the other side of Praise.
And so forth.

All the letters
had two sides or more.
None was pure.
There was a clamor
in paradise, words,
syllables, shouting
to be seen and heard
for the glory
of the new heavens and earth.

God fell silent,
wondering,
How can song
rise from that commotion?

Rather than speculate,
God chose B,
who had intoned,
Bashfully, Boldly,
Blessed is his name.

And he made A
first in the Alphabet
for admitting, I am All—
a limitation
and a possibility.

NOTE:  Somehow, this poem reminds me of Kundalini--a process that has two sides.  One is joy and rapture--the other can be pain and discomfort.  However, most of us, having survived the difficult stages, ultimately find joy and peace in the quiet of a passage safely past, a journey with its own rewards.
Like the  "A" of the alphabet, Kundalini connects us with "All"  (infinite love, endless possibility) but it can also feel much like a limitation--since it can (temporarily) impair our ability to function at our best in the world.

The Call
Oriah Mountain Dreamer

I have heard it all my life,

A voice calling a name I recognized as my own.

Sometimes it comes as a soft-bellied whisper.
Sometimes it holds an edge of urgency.
But always it says: Wake up, my love. You are walking asleep.
There’s no safety in that!

Remember what you are, and let a deeper knowing
color the shape of your humanness.
There is nowhere to go. What you are looking for is right here.
Open the fist clenched in wanting and see what you already hold in your hand.
There is no waiting for something to happen,
no point in the future to get to.

All you have ever longed for is here in this moment, right now.
You are wearing yourself out with all this searching.
Come home and rest.
How much longer can you live like this?

Your hungry spirit is gaunt, your heart stumbles. All this trying.
Give it up!
Let yourself be one of the God-mad,
faithful only to the Beauty you are.
Let the Lover pull you to your feet and hold you close,
dancing even when fear urges you to sit this one out.

Remember, there is one word you are here to say with your whole being.
When it finds you, give your life to it. Don’t be tight-lipped and stingy.
Spend yourself completely on the saying,
Be one word in this great love poem we are writing together.

--Oriah Mountain Dreamer

Happy Thanksgiving to all!!!

     

Thanksgiving

I have been trying to read
the script cut in these hills—
a language carved in the shimmer of stubble
and the solid lines of soil, spoken
in the thud of apples falling
and the rasp of corn stalks finally bare.

The pheasants shout it with a rusty creak
as they gather in the fallen grain,
the blackbirds sing it
over their shoulders in parting,
and gold leaf illuminates the manuscript
where it is written in the trees.

Transcribed onto my human tongue
I believe it might sound like a lullaby,
or the simplest grace at table.
Across the gathering stillness
simply this: "For all that we have received,
dear God, make us truly grateful."

~ Lynn Ungar ~


(Blessing the Bread)

Advice to Myself
by Louise Erdrich

Leave the dishes. Let the celery rot in the bottom drawer of the refrigerator
and an earthen scum harden on the kitchen floor.
Leave the black crumbs in the bottom of the toaster.
Throw the cracked bowl out and don't patch the cup.
Don't patch anything. Don't mend. Buy safety pins.
Don't even sew on a button.
Let the wind have its way, then the earth
that invades as dust and then the dead
foaming up in gray rolls underneath the couch.
Talk to them. Tell them they are welcome.
Don't keep all the pieces of the puzzles
or the doll's tiny shoes in pairs, don't worry
who uses whose toothbrush or if anything
matches, at all.
Except one word to another. Or a thought.
Pursue the authentic—decide first
what is authentic,
then go after it with all your heart.
Your heart, that place
you don't even think of cleaning out.
That closet stuffed with savage mementos.
Don't sort the paper clips from screws from saved baby teeth
or worry if we're all eating cereal for dinner
again. Don't answer the telephone, ever,
or weep over anything at all that breaks.
Pink molds will grow within those sealed cartons
in the refrigerator. Accept new forms of life
and talk to the dead
who drift in through the screened windows, who collect
patiently on the tops of food jars and books.
Recycle the mail, don't read it, don't read anything
except what destroys
the insulation between yourself and your experience
or what pulls down or what strikes at or what shatters
this ruse you call necessity.

COMMENT:  Louise Erdrich is one of the most recognized and prolific authors of our time.  What she looks at in this poem is the problem that most of us have--the intrusion of the "insignificant" details of living on the more urgent and important tasks of our own personal calling.
Certainly, once you undergo Kundalini arousal you will be challenged--whether to give yourself totally to this fascinating experience of transcendence or rather to commit yourself to the more mundane tasks needed to "keep up" in this world.
I opt for Erdrich's choice--I would much rather listen to some delighting music or read a volume of poems than clean out the refrigerator or sort through the mail.  As a result, I am surrounded by "things that need to be done" rather than a neat and tidy home.  Oh, well, I say, these chores of "lesser importance" can wait for another time--surely when the snow comes or the wind blows I can find time to turn to these aggravating necessities--but then somehow I seldom do, but rather focus on
what destroys
the insulation between yourself and your experience
or what pulls down or what strikes at or what shatters
this ruse you call necessity.

That Which Holds All

Because she wanted everyone to feel included
in her prayer,
she said right at the beginning
several names for the Holy:
Spirit, she said, Holy One, Mystery, God
but then thinking these weren’t enough ways of addressing
that which cannot be fully addressed, she added
particularities, saying, Spirit of Life, Spirit of Love
Ancient Holy One, Mystery We Will Not Ever Fully Know,
Gracious God and also Spirit of This Earth,
God of Sarah, Gaia, Thou
and then, tongue loosened, she fell to naming
superlatives as well: Most Creative One,
Greatest Source, Closest Hope—-
even though superlatives for the Sacred seemed to her
probably redundant, but then she couldn’t stop:
One Who Made the Stars, she said, although she knew
technically a number of those present didn’t believe
the stars had been made by anyone or thing
but just luckily happened.
One Who Is an Entire Ocean of Compassion,
she said, and no one laughed.
That Which Has Been Present Since Before the Beginning,
she said, and the room was silent.
Then, although she hadn’t imagined it this way,
others began to offer names:
Peace, said one.
One My Mother Knew, said another.
Ancestor, said a third.
Wind.
Rain.
Breath, said one near the back.
Refuge.
That Which Holds All.
A child said, Water.
Someone said, Kuan Yin.
Then: Womb.
Witness.
Great Kindness.
Great Eagle.
Eternal Stillness.
And then, there wasn’t any need to say the things
she’d thought would be important to say,
and everyone sat hushed, until someone said
Amen.

Nancy Shaffer

"Instructions in Joy: Meditations"

Here is a description of sacred poetry as a "goodwill ambassador" for various faiths--all from Ivan Granger of the Poetry Chaikhana.

"Sacred poetry has the unique benefit of being a deeply personal expression of spiritual truth while, at the same time, being largely free from dogma. In the United States, for example, there is an increasing prejudice and fear about the Muslim world. But who can read Jelaluddin Rumi without immediately recognizing the deep truth that Islam can express? The same is true for a non-Hindu reading Lal Ded or a non-Christian reading St. John of the Cross. Sacred poetry is the natural goodwill ambassador for the world's religions. Poetry can reach across cultural divides, soften prejudices, and shed light on misunderstandings. I hope the Poetry Chaikhana can help to facilitate that process."

Black Mother


Breathe.....
Yes, I see you are afraid.
Breathe slow and deep.
Breathe, beautiful one, my child.

I am your mother
Your first and final mother.
Your black mother.
I come between this breath and the next,
a momentous exchange:
I give you my courage...you give me your fear.

I come, not to take you
But to wake you to your own waxing
void, where all creation begins.

I come to hold your face in my hands.
I come to hold your heart in my heart.
I come to hold your fears in my breath.
I come to hold your pain in my teeth.
I come to hold your dreams in my womb.
I come to show you that inside your fear
lies the passage to freedom.

Open your eyes.
See me.   See me.
Look deep into me.
Leap into the current of your journey.
Into the whirling black holes:
Into your not knowing.

Breathe
Breathe slow and deep.
Dissolve into me, into you, into all that is.
I love you beyond life, beyond death.


- Fran Carbonaro

(Picture by Natey Freedman)

The Summons

by Kalidas (Lawrence Edwards, Ph. D. )


The Summons awoke me
          from this slumber, this dream.

Hearing the Call,
          receiving Its power,
                   the way revealed itself.

Coming at last to the great mansion
          the Call urged me through
                   the gates of unworthiness
                             into the home of my Lord.

His Call brought me,
          I stood in the shadows
                   outside the magnificent hall
                             where He sat at the head of the table.

A limitless feast was spread
for countless guests yet to arrive.
I peeked in and saw the Lord
at the far end of the great hall.

He shown resplendent, self-luminous,
          clothed only in Light,
                   naked Divinity
                             beckoning me forward.

I felt ashamed
          wearing such heavy attire,
and noticed in the foyer where I stood
          the clothes shed by many who had come before me.

Entering naked
          I approached the Divine
                   seeing tears streaming down his face
                             while his eyes sparkled with delight.

His Beloved Devi appeared,
          so terribly beautiful to behold
                   that the breath left my body
                             to merge with Her.

“What is it my dear?” She asked.

“I’ve invited them all,
          every single one,
                   to come home and feast with us forevermore.
                             But so few have yet to arrive.”

“Be patient my dear,
          I’m bringing all our sons and daughters
                   home to our embrace.
Now come, Love’s play awaits!”

Strawberries Ripe

Whatever you have done in this world,
whether you carried
  each day heavily,
   like a plate of fish on which
only the skeleton and scales remain,
bound for the discard
almost
before the meal has begun,
or whether
   you awoke joyously,
crying,
yes, this is the day
the orchard is ready,
the strawberries
ripe for plucking--
        whichever way
you greeted your life,
put on it your special stamp,
that day will remain forever,
part of the great mind,
    the memory of how it is
        to live on this earth,
with its many
hollows and hills,
its constant rippling
up and down
across the changing surfaces,
carrying us always forward
to the next destination,
another arrival.

Dorothy Walters ("A Cloth of Fine Gold")

(image from internet)

Reverse Living

Life is tough.
It takes up a lot of your time. All your weekends.
And what do you get at the end of it -
Death - A great reward.
I think that the life cycle is all backwards.
You should die first. Get it out of the way.
Then you live 20 years in an old folks home.
You get kicked out when you're too young.
You get a good watch. You go to work.
You work for 40 years until you are young enough to enter college.
You learn to party until you are ready for High School.
You go to High School, Grade School,
You become a little kid.
You play, you have no responsibilities.
You become a little baby.
You go back into the womb.
You spend the last nine months floating
Only to finish off as a gleam in somebodies eye.

- Lynne Vance

NOTE:  The above poem is well off the topic of this blog, but I do believe that one of our ongoing tasks is to retain our sense of humor, to be able to appreciate clever irony when it presents itself, and to look at life from multiple angles.  That, in my view, is an important way of both living in the world and out of it.

Sometimes  

Sometimes things don't go, after all,
from bad to worse. Some years, muscadel
faces down frost; green thrives; the crops don't fail,
sometimes a man aims high, and all goes well.

A people sometimes step back from war;
elect an honest man; decide they care
enough, that they can't leave some stranger poor.
Some men become what they were born for.

Sometimes our best efforts do not go
amiss; sometimes we do as we meant to.
The sun will sometimes melt a field of sorrow
that seemed hard frozen: may it happen to us.

    - Sheenagh Pugh

I just wrote a rather long piece on the above topic, but somehow lost the entire post before I could complete it.  Here is a "summary" of what I was saying (I need to say these things, for they are issues that have impacted my life greatly).

Two (maybe more) states have now approved initiatives to legalize gay marriage in their states (Maine and Maryland).  For gays everywhere, this is a momentous decision.

I grew up in the thirties during the Great Depression, when the topic of homosexuality was so hush hush it was never mentioned at all in most circles.  In the late forties, I took a class in library science, where the teacher (after making a face) explained to us that "there were such people," but that books pertaining to this lifestyle must be kept under the librarians' counter, to avoid disseminating "dangerous" material to the public.  She was referring to such books a Kraft-Ebbing's studies of "sexual perversion" and the infamous novel "The Well of Loneliness," which portrayed lesbians as part of an"army of the damned," condemned forever to live in isolation and guilt.

Despite the public condemnation of gays, those who loved one another continued to live in what were deeply committed unions, public support or not.

After the aids crisis and Stonewall, things loosened a bit, but it was still extremely risky for gays and lesbians to reveal their sexual preference to any but their most trusted friends.  To do so mean likely rejection from family and conservative friends, loss of jobs, and public humiliation.

Gradually, things changed, but it was still decades before full acceptance became a possibility.  As a result, many gays (I was one) lived a "double" life, creating one persona for the public and family, another for one's beloved companion.  This "self censoring" was not good for the psyche or soul--it was as if some important part of the self were erased when one appeared in public, and the "taint" was always present.

Ultimately, due to the efforts of certain brave souls, gays in many states won the right to have "civil unions," which allowed them to visit partners in hospital, share common property and such.  No civil marriages were allowed--the measure failed when put up for public vote, even in California, where outside groups (Catholics and Mormons) poured money into the state when a referendum took place.  Needless to say, the measure failed.

Gay marriage then become a central issue in the 2008 Presidential election (in the meantime we were fighting two wars and many young (and some older) soldiers were being slaughtered for a cause that no one truly understood).

In this last election, gay marriage was no longer an issue.  Let us hope that the result in the two states that approved the initiative is merely a precursor of many such referendums--civil rights should not be restricted to those whose behavior conforms to the demands of certain religious groups. Love is love, and those who wish a permanent commitment, should be accorded the same rights as other groups.

I might add that I personally have no desire to marry anyone, gay or straight, but am quite happy to live a single lifestyle.  However, I marvel at the many changes of attitude that I have witnessed in the over eighty years of my life, and am grateful to be living in a more inclusive society.

I am an avid follower of the T. V. series called "Ancient Aliens," (H2), particularly of those segments describing the various ancient monuments (Stone Henge is but one example) that simply could not have been constructed by humans equipped with only the most rudimentary tools.  One theory of the "alien researchers" group is that not only were such early societies aided by alien beings, but that the latter literally directed that such sacred monuments (temples, holy wells, standing stones and the like) be erected along the "earth grid," thus creating a vast encircling energy system holding the planet in its grasp.

The "earth grid"  (a theory, not a proved fact) refers to a series of electromagnetic lines, each encircling the globe from a different starting point.  The result is a geometric configuration of charged "ley lines," with various sacred monuments appearing at various intervals along the way.

Now, here is my theory.  The "ancient alien researchers" claim that aliens must themselves have directed the placement of these monuments along these lines, since otherwise the early peoples would not have known where to construct their sacred sites. I think it was the other way around.  I think that the ancient peoples had certain capacities that have now pretty much ossified for most of us.  I think that just as they "smelled better" (with more acuteness) and "saw better" (for survival), they "felt better" (sensed the vibrations of sacred spots.)  I think this because I too have (like many others) sensed something special at certain sacred places--think Tara, Glendalough, sacred wells and such in Ireland.  The specific signature of such locations is a sense of bliss waves coming up from the ground--at times when one is not even aware that one is near such sacred places.  I suspect that the entire tribe or group could be drawn to such locations because of this "inner knowing" through vibration (kundalini force).  And--once the many sacred monuments or locations were built or recognized, then it became evident that they were located on the earth grid.

At times we get glimpses or tastes of this (mostly) lost talent.  It is delightful feeling and gives us a sense of connection with our ancestors.

I often reflect on how our society will "be" should our advanced technological culture be wiped out. One reward might be a renewed capacity to sense earth energy in special places, through the bliss waves coming up through the soles of our feet and radiating through our bodies.

Autumn

The leaves are falling, falling as if from far up,
as if orchards were dying high in space.
Each leaf falls as if it were motioning "no."

And tonight the heavy earth is falling
away from all other stars in the loneliness.

We're all falling. This hand here is falling.
And look at the other one. It's in them all.

And yet there is Someone, whose hands
infinitely calm, holding up all this falling.

Rainer Maria Rilke

I just received this message from a friend and am reprinting it here, since it pertains to a world meditation happening today and extending for several hours thereafter:

.... just happened to check out this latest Hathor message, via Tom Kenyan, about a "world meditation" happening today, 4-5pm -- in Seattle but also and most importantly on the inner planes, in support of whirled peas and interconnectedness:

http://tomkenyon.com/the-aethos-and-non-dual-states-of-consciousness

In case you are not familiar with Tom Kenyon's work, you should know that he is famous on many fronts, in particular for "channeling" the messages of the Hathors, a group of non-physical beings who speak from the higher dimensions.  Tom himself is a gifted musician who uses sound and vibration to enter into higher states of consciousness and to enable others to do the same.

I once had a brief workshop with Tom, and at the end of it was in such an altered state I was not sure I could walk home by myself (I did!)

In the website listed above, you will discover that although the meditation officially begins this afternoon, you can actually tune in on it and participate for many hours after the official start.  Tom asks that you download the sound tracks ahead of time, in order not to cause his computer to crash from too many listeners.  I have listened briefly to these downloads and discovered that each is simply a single note or chord played for a certain number of minutes.  I will try to get back to them later when the meditation officially begins.

Basically, Tom's work and the messages from the Hathors are intended to raise the vibrational level of humanity and the globe through light and sound.  I firmly believe that such is also the purpose of world wide awakening to Kundalini, which is itself a primary vehical for raising vibrations both within the self and throughout the world.

If you visit Tom's home site, you will discover a link to a youtube preview of an upcoming documentary film. This brief (10 minute) preview offers an interesting account of how Tom become the shaman/soundhealer he now is.

His name was Arthur Young.  He invented the modern helicopter, spent seven years on another major project only to find that someone else owned the patent.  He explored the nature of the universe, and posited that the torus (a doughnut shaped geometrical figure) was the basis of creation and ongoing evolution.  He was a genius.

He was also a mystic.  He developed a theory of "Process" and wrote a book called "The Reflective Universe."  I will take a risk and guess that that process refers to the universe reflecting on itself through its creations, beginning with simple forms and progressing up to humans, the highest form of creation we are aware of.  (I hope this assumption is correct).

Our presenter (Bob Whitehouse) at today's gathering (of the Society for Scientific Exploration) was long familiar with Young's work, and offered a compelling talk indicating that in Young's practical and philosophical perspectives, a marriage of sorts takes  place between science and spirituality.  Young was obviously a very spiritual man, and wrote that many of his inspirations came from dreams and other unusual sources.  Our speaker was quite convincing in his presentation, but frankly his speech was so packed with (to me) quite obscure scientific references that I could not follow much of it.

Nonetheless, I enjoyed the presentation--the way one sometimes reads a book with limited comprehension, yet with some kind of intuitive grasp.

At the end, during informal discussion, a science professor from India pointed out that the ancient rishis (wise men) had themselves proffered scientific theories explaining in a most effective way the origins and subsequent development of the universe.  I agree with him, and strongly recommend (again) that anyone seriously interested in these topics should look at the early Kashmiri Shaivite texts, especially Jaideva Singh's translations of "The Yoga of Vibration and Divine Pulsation" and "The Yoga of Delight, Wonder, and Astonishment."  Try to get the State University of New York edition if you can.

One sample entry of the latter is the assertion that the highest state is that of the "bliss of non-difference from the entire universe"--in other words, the mystical state of consciousness in which one is fully absorbed by and interpenetrated by all that is.

These early saint/philosophers also knew that the material universe is made up of energy, and vibrations were the source and manifestation of this energy.  "Maya" was the term they used to express that we do not perceive nor experience "reality" as such, but rather a similitude created by the vibratory web and modern science offers the same assumption.

Kundalini ecstasy, I believe, is the state that exists when we come into resonance with the cosmic vibrations that pulse throughout creation, and feel in our own bodies a bit of this "heavenly bliss."

Finally, after much worry and confusion and worry, my blog is back on line.  This resolution stems from the kind efforts of a friend who came over and (we hope) fixed the problem.

All of these problems arose when I mistakenly furnished information to a site that threatened to destroy my e-mail account if I did not oblige.  Part of me knew better, but somehow I fell for the ploy, and hence all my subsequent troubles.

My advice:  remember not to supply private information to an unknown source, even when it poses as an legitimate correspondent and threatens disaster if you do not comply.

Well, as they say, "Love and learn."