Kundalini Splendor

Travelers

We were not the pretty ones.
We did not win prizes,
get elected class president.

We spent our time in the library,
among the books, our friends.
Thus we met Dante and Milton,
Rumi and Shakespeare,
Emerson and Walt,
Emily and Elizabeth B.
Or perhaps we rehearsed
with the chorus,
or painted in the studio
where the masters lived.
These were an august company.
We learned a lot from them.

Unimaginable things happened to us,
things we could not share.
We inhabited two worlds,
one invisible,
one seen.

Always we were longing
for more,
some jewel we had lost,
a line of poetry
we couldn't quite recall.

Occasionally we met
someone
on a parallel path,
and we shared notions
and ideas,
thoughts about the world.

Later we had friends,
persons of similar interests
or lovers, often untrue.
Mostly we were alone,
on a journey crafted for us
elsewhere,
taking us to a destination
unknown
but we knew it was right
for us,
preparing us
for the inexplicable,
shattering us
into the real.

Dorothy Walters
September 30, 2018

September

Again, the aspens are turning
the world into God,
right on schedule.

We try to savor
these few precious days
by driving up into
the high country,
look for yellow gold clinging
to dark branches,
irradiated by sun,
follow Trail Ridge Road
all the way up to the Continental Divide
where it is always windy
and cold.
Up there the tundra grows,
northern Siberia is
the only other place on the planet
where you will also find it.

Sometimes at dusk the elk come down
into the meadows,
their flute music echoing
cliff to cliff,
then clashing their horns together
to find a mate.

 Soon everything
will be covered
in snow, down here
and up above.
We will wish
we could still
go skiing
or snow boarding,
but it is too cold
for our fragile bones.
We will all long
for mothers
who will bake bread
and make soup,
fill the house with
sweet aromas.

Instead we will check to see if
we have new mail,
warm up a frozen dish from the market,
listen to the news
to see
if anything has changed.

Dorothy Walters
September 29, 2018

Friends

I have often advised, 'Consider your friends as life jackets."  Here are some of my oldest and dearest.  Far right (in blue coat) and left are Rose Roberts and Gail Thompson.  These two women were once in my women's studies classes some 20 years ago at Wichita State University in Kansas.  They were among the group called "returning women," a term applied to older women then coming back to college to complete their degrees.  They were then in their thirties (and I  was in my early fifties.)  They also enrolled in my class in "Personal and Social Transformation," which carried a content considered quite radical at the time (the Great Mother, quantum physics, extrasensory perception and the like).  They were among my favorite students, for they were open to new ideas and conversant with the old. They became fast friends and now are both grandmothers.  They still visit me in Colorado about once a year and take me on long drives in the mountains to, among other places, Rocky Mountain National Park, not far away.  We had a great time this last week, visiting the Park and then spending the day together listening to the Senate hearings on T. V.  These women are very perceptive and we all felt the same about the presentations.  Even though they live in a very conservative area, they  (like many others in my classes) are quite progressive in their views.

We also visited Ann Lacy Griffin, (in the red sweater) who lives in a co-housing community, about 20 minutes outside of Boulder.  Ann is very artistic, and her apartment reflects her talents, with decorations in Arabic, Japanese, and others, and including examples of her own painting and photography.  Ann and I met several years at a classical music concert when we happened to be seated next to each other.   Even now, we sometimes go to concerts together, especially those of classical or world music.  The land where she lives is, to my mind, quite magical.  If I had a car, I would move there also.

Going

I do not know
if this is
an ending
or a beginning,
a sunset or a sunrise,
or just a dream that started
some time ago, unknown,
unsequenced, unexplained.

Already the present
is fading,
I am ceasing to
care about things
deemed so important
before,
hurrying to let go,
dispose of the tangibles,
the connections.

Once more standing
on the cliff's edge,
poised to hurl over
into vastness,
undelineated, unknown.

The trapeze artist
releases,
swings into space
not knowing if the
next hold
will be waiting
or not,
or is merely a delusion.
a hazy beckoning
to lure you into
undefined space.

Yet he lets go,
traces the arc of air,
grips the bar in time,
knows it is always there.

Dorothy Walters
September 23, 2018

Note:  I wrote this poem this morning before I read Ted's entry.   Synchronicity?

Dear Dorothy,

Does it seem like you are embarking on a new journey to a destination you have never been to or even imagined before? It may or may not entail an outer journey but it definitely is an inner journey to realms of consciousness that will immensely expand your connection with all that is. The era of separation and limited physical reality is giving way to a true connection with the essence of not just our so-called physical universe but of all reality that is on all dimensions and all timelines.

How this journey plays out for you will depend on whether you approach it with anxiety and fear of the unknown or with a sense of excitement and trust in knowing you will be safe no matter how crazy and strange things may seem. Whatever is presented to you on the journey experience it as a gift from God and keep always focused on the light, no matter how much the darkness may seem to surround you. Your inner voyage is always about moving through your ultimate fears and self-imposed limitations to realize your unlimited essence as a being of pure love and light. Your journey is a very personal and unique one, yet we are all being called to embark on similar journeys for the benefit of our planet and beyond. Embrace the journey with joy and welcome the new, true you that is emerging from its protective cocoon.

Love & Light,
Ted

Wild Heart

We say to our dog sit and she sits
We say good girl and she wags her tail
We tame our horses by breaking them
In the same way we tame our hearts
Behave we say, good boy
You shouldn’t say that, good girl
We say over and over, I am good
When a part of us believes I’ve been bad
Each belief is a whip to our flanks
Breaking our spirit
Cracking our hearts over and over

You ask forgiveness to others for the gossip,
Indifference and harm you caused them
You forget to ask forgiveness
For your critical self-slander,
The indifference and harm you cause yourself
By not listening to the still small voice within

Stop breaking your wild pony of a heart
Instead say to your good girl and good boy
I’m sorry

This year turn towards that brokenness
See it anew
Look beyond the broken latches and shards of glass
Created by your own sorrow
See openness

Climb through into the heart of your heart
To your untamed and uncivilized heart
Where the thrum of excitement and anticipation is loud
Enter your wild heart where thrives a teaming jungle of life
Monkeys howling with joy, swinging carefree above the
Grinning hyenas of shame, the ripping teeth of self-doubt
Here there are no civilized red lights
Here beyond brokenness only one light shines
The green light of love

Enter fully into the broken heart and you will find
Your whole, wild, untamed, uncivilized heart
Here there is only yes
Yes to love
Yes to life

Go deeply enough and you will remember
Your heart is the heart of the world
The world is the heart of God

- Sally Churgel

The Bear

Suppose you went to sleep and suppose you dreamt that you held a beautiful flower and then suppose that when you awoke you found this beautiful flower in your hand.   What then?  What would you do?
                                  (attributed to Samuel Taylor Coleridge)

Somehow I
keep thinking about that bear,
the one with its head stuck in a pail
until some kind soul came along
and freed it,
wondering if we too are just
stumbling about,
heads stuck in a pail,
going no where, really,
supposing
 that this darkness
is the only reality,
this place where the only sound
is the clang and bang
when we bump into something
hard and physical,
say a tree or
a boulder in our path,
or detect the roar
of an approaching earthquake,
or a fire breaking through.

What if someone
came along
when we least
expected it
and released us from
that pail
and the world suddenly
emerged
in Van Gogh colors
against the backdrop
of Mozart or Bach,
and we were surrounded
by angels,
dancing us into bliss––
would you believe
these testimonies?

Well, I have news for you.
I know people who
got healed, all at once,
from their lingering pain,
who heard celestial music
right there, on the mountain side,
while they were admiring the view,
who fell into ecstasy (a state
they had no word for)
one morning when they
woke up.

What if something like this
happened suddenly,
unexpectedly,
to each of us
as we entered
an awareness we could not name,
and when we finally
whispered out secret
into our neighbor's ear
they told us that
something similar
was also happening
to them,
what then?

What would we do?

Dorothy Walters
September 18, 2018

Rumi––"We are an ark"

We are an ark in the swift flood of time.

We are companions, a fellowship.

Who puts in with us sails into Light.

Dear Dorothy,

When you met an elder from an indigenous tribe that has had very little contact with the “civilized world” what impression do you get? The first is an overwhelming sense of ancient wisdom that seems to be emanating from every aspect of his or her being. There is a sense of joy that is rooted as deeply as the lines etched in the face that tells of a lifetime of challenges. These challenges have become even more difficult now that their very existence is being threatened by the greed of nations that are in a rush to destroy the planet in their desire for personal gain.

The joy is almost a childlike innocence as they simply share love and a feeling of connection with all other beings. Instead of feeling hatred or animosity toward those whose way of life is threatening theirs they feel only a desire to help misguided people who have forgotten the true purpose in life. Their connection with both the earth and the cosmos is palpable, as they display a wonderful balance of appreciation for both worlds. We have much to learn from these wonderful people who have been protecting the secrets of their ancient ways for so long and now are sharing their wisdom in order to help us transform humanity into a culture that lives in oneness with each other, the planet and all of creation.

Love & Light,
Ted

Having Come This Far

I've been through what my through was to be
I did what I could and couldn't
I was never sure how I would get there

I nourished an ardor for thresholds
for stepping stones and for ladders
I discovered detour and ditch

I swam in the high tides of greed
I built sandcastles to house my dreams
I survived the sunburns of love

No longer do I hunt for targets
I've climbed all the summits I need to
and I've eaten my share of lotus

Now I give praise and thanks
for what could not be avoided
and for every foolhardy choice

I cherish my wounds and their cures
and the sweet enervations of bliss
My book is an open life

I wave goodbye to the absolutes
and send my regards to infinity
I'd rather be blithe than correct

Until something transcendent turns up
I splash in my poetry puddle
and try to keep God amused.

~ James Broughton ~

(image from internet)

Imagining

What if God isnʼt a noun
to be empowered and worshiped
but a verb of creation
powered by love?

What if every single tree
drawn in primary school
is a sacred work of art
worthy of joyful notice?

What if our lives are built
on a web of kindness,
a net,
which holds everything living.

What if the rocks are alive
singing strength and courage;
vibrating
from our feet right up to our heart?

What if we loved ourselves
as deeply as the mountain
who,
caressed by water,
surrenders herself
into sand?

What if our most loved,
intra-national pastime
is a game of entertainment
where we all win?

What if no one aspired
to be a millionaire
and money no longer had power
but was simply a means of tender-ness.

What if transforming our world
by imagining it
can
actually make it happen?

- Deborah Rodney

 




Douglas Taylor was a surfer, not yet 30.  One day, after an afternoon of surfing in the Caribbean, he lay down for a nap and suddenly found himself aboard a starship, with beings who emanated love and peace.  Then he was given (by direct transmission) information that, among other things, explained how these extremely advanced beings could travel such vast distances through space from their locations to ours.

I do not have the technical capacity to describe in detail the information as it was presented to him, but as I understand it, the key was frequencies and vibration.   First, they used a system that utilized some sort  of alternating currents to raise the frequencies of each atom of the ship to a level far beyond what we might produce or even imagine.  Once these extremely high frequencies are reached, they travel on the electromagnetic radiation bands that crisscross the universe.  Once they reach their desired destination, they lower their frequencies and, if they choose, land.  They assert that the cosmos itself is filled with highly intelligent beings in shapes and forms beyond imagination.  They themselves are from a planet outside our solar system whose name we would not recognize.

When he asked if he might visit their home planet, they explained that that was impossible for him at his stage of development.

They also asserted that they were coming to our planet for totally benevolent purposes, in order to help us move into a higher level of awareness.

I have no idea if this information is a valid description of space travelers and their vehicles, but confess it makes sense to me.  It answers the queries of contemporary scientists and lay people alike in a way that explains how such phenomena are possible.

Shortly after this encounter, Taylor was suddenly struck with a desire to paint his inner visions, though he had never painted before.  He has published a selection of these amazing visions in the book entitled: "Soulic Journeys: A Visionary Guide to Spiritual Enlightenment."

I would love for someone with more technical knowledge than I possess to respond to this theory of how highly advanced civilizations are able to travel such vast distances in space.

"The Celestial Gallery"––Romio Shrestha (Riverside Press)

"Mandala":
A mandala (emphasis on first syllable; Sanskrit मण्डल, maṇḍala – literally "circle") is a spiritual and ritual symbol in Hinduism and Buddhism, representing the universe.
The basic form of most mandalas is a square with four gates containing a circle with a center point. Each gate is in the general shape of a T.

In various spiritual traditions, mandalas may be employed for focusing attention of practitioners and adepts, as a spiritual guidance tool, for establishing a sacred space and as an aid to meditation and trance induction."  (Wikipedia)

This book is magic.  It consists of a collection of mandalas created by a a contemporary artist who draws on the age old traditions and archetypes of both Hindu and Buddhist art work to offer stunning new representations of these ancient creations.  You need not be either Hindu or Buddhist to experience their power.  Without sound, without words, they offer entry into "vastness," the state so often referenced but not always experienced by the practitioner.

If you meditate on these images you may enter a realm both strange and familiar, a domain that beckons you to become part of the cosmos you contemplate.

This gorgeous book is fairly inexpensive to purchase.  It is a sacred text, a rare offering in our time.  Occasionally you can find a single page reprinted and for sale in a Buddhist or Hindu store.

I meditated on these images while I was in rehab and indeed entered an arena I did not know existed.

Another One for the Beloved

I know.
I am the one who keeps forgetting,
going off on some strange excursion
into my favorite dreamscapes,
that important phone call
I must make now,
the latest article calling me.

And so for a time
nothing happens between us.
As if our messages got
lost in the mail,
or were sent to
the wrong address,

Meanwhile You
are waiting patiently.
Silent witness ready for my
inevitable return.

Dorothy Walters
August 30, 2018

"The Illuminated Rumi"

When I was in rehab, dear friend Jacqueline Arnold, brought me some books to look at and enjoy. Each one made a profound impact on me. I am going to describe each in turn here.
The first was Coleman Barks' "The Iluminated Rumi." Many of you may already have this book, but it repays another look. It has beautiful excerpts from various Rumi poems and lovely illustrations. I liked to copy especially striking images or phrases and then contemplate them. Here is my all time favorite:

"Keep on walking.
Of course, there is no where to go."
                                  (Rumi)

For me, this is a perfect description of life.

So, keep on walking, everyone.

Dorothy

On Publishing a Book: "The Kundalini Poems: Reflections of Radiance and Joy."

When you publish your book, you quickly learn that the writing itself may be the easiest part.

My own special creative surge began about 18 months ago.  Instead of writing a poem each week, I began to "receive" poems effortlessly, as if a voice within wished to be heard.  Thus I became in effect merely the instrument or channel for this unknown source.

At a certain point, I had to stop and attend to the process of getting ready for my upcoming move.  By now, I had almost 200 new poems, far too many for a book of poems.  So here is what came next.

First, I printed them all up (from the blog  where they had first appeared).  Next I sorted them and eliminated some from this cut.  Next I began the (for me) difficult task of constructing a digital file.  I had to locate each poem in the Blog archives (by date) and copy and paste it into the file.

Once this was finished, I had to think about  publication possibilities.

What many may not realize is that getting your poetry book accepted by an established publisher is extremely difficult these days.  Most publishers refuse even to consider submissions of poetry (unless of course your name is Rumi or Mary Oliver or others of similar rank).

So I sent my new volume of verses to Emergent Education Press, a small press headed by two wonderful people with whom I already had a connection.  They are planning to publish a collection of my prose writings ("Kundalini Splendor: The Future as Ecstasy") in the spring.  To my great delight, they liked this new book and are going to publish it in
November of this year.

I cannot imagine a better match or outlet for these creations.  This press is devoted to publishing works that look to the future.  I do believe I fit into this category.

Blessings to All,

Dorothy

Dear Friends,

I am sorry to be out of touch for so long, but I am finally back after a series of rather strange adventures.  I got successfully moved into a new apartment in my same building and felt very fortunate to do so.  I did no packing or lifting, but a few day after this move I experienced a strange ailment.  I could not walk nor stand without extreme pain.  I finally checked in to the emergency room where they did multiple tests but could discover no physical cause for my problem. Then, in a few days, all the symptoms went away and the pain disappeared.  The conclusion was that I had experienced this pain from stress.  I was then sent to rehab, where I remained for about 10 days.  I finally got back home a few days ago and now am sitting in the middle of huge stacks of boxes, all waiting to be unpacked.

However, I have some wonderful news.  My new collection of poems has been accepted for publication and it will  be coming out in a couple of months.  I am of course overjoyed at this good fortune, and will write more about it soon.

I hope everyone is thriving and special thanks to those who missed me and were concerned.

Blessings to all,

Dorothy