The Pleiades

     I'd never been to California, yet during the past several months many people living out there have been urging me to come and visit.  Ah, 'twould be nice, but no denaro.  Then unexpectedly I was invited to the annual meeting and retreat of Service Space. My heart stopped for a moment.  This was huge!  Our founder, Nipun Mehta, would be there, a man I deeply admire.  Other folks I knew of but never met would also attend.  In my mind these were the game changers, and they wanted me to come.
     Two questions plagued me, why and how.  Why did I think I needed to go?  While my default response would have been no, my intuition shoved me into saying yes.  Then how in the world would I pay for the airfare? 
     The night after I accepted, I woke up in a panic.  What was I thinking of?  I can't go to California!  But in the next instant a voice cut through the noise.  FEAR NOT!  Instantly the panic ceased.  The next day I got a grant writing job which covered the cost of the ticket.  As long as I was out there, I thought I should see the friends who encouraged me to visit.  I emailed them about my trip, and effortlessly the stars moved to assist me.  Two of these friends offered me a bed, so no hotels.  Other friends offered to drive me everywhere I needed to go, so no car to rent.  John dropped me off and picked me up at the airport, so no parking costs.  Magic!
     Then came the why.  Why do I need to go now and why did I feel compelled to say yes?  I put the question aside when I arrived at Mesa del Sol.  I'd never been to a place like this!  We were in the mountains--high, dry, bright--with a faint smell of sage brush hanging in the air.  I was immediately absorbed into our loving group of 25 and made to feel quite comfortable.  Yet, something felt odd.  Someone asked me how I was doing.  I replied, "I'm not sure.  I'm not here.  Someone is here, but it's not me.  But she's having a great time!"  Whatever anxiety drives my ego and claims to be me was left 3,000 miles behind.  A purer version of me had arrived, one that was so completely open.
     I took advantage of the surroundings to enjoy a little solitude and the starry night, and out of the corner of my eye I spotted the Pleiades cluster.  Since my vision is not what it used to be I cannot look for this cluster straight on; it recedes into the blackness.  But when I don't look so hard, when I look past it, when I allow my peripheral vision to see it, it becomes clear.  Then I realized that I had to find my reason to why in the same way.  Going after it intellectually would reveal nothing.  I just had to let the answers reveal themselves to me.
   They did.  Sure, I was here to get better acquainted with the group.  But I found myself having astounding conversations which could not have happened under any other circumstances.  I met people with whom I developed an immediate and deep connection, and we continue our conversations now.  Because I needed a ride to my next destination, my traveling companions ended up being photographed for a book my host was publishing.  Another friend expressed her wonder that I had come at exactly that time because there was no one else with whom she could share a particular story. 
     The stars move in strange courses, don't they?  While it may be tempting to connect the dots and declare a constellation, I'm finding it's much more amazing to let them connect me to people and circumstances who are, just for the moment, obscured by the darkness.  But when all is revealed, Holy Mother of Pearl, it is magic!
    

Share Your Light, Not Your Oil

     Frequently I find myself thinking of service versus income.  As strange as that may seem to you, it is a real dilemma for me...and others as I have discovered.  We want to live a life of service, and while many can use our help, they haven't the means to pay for it.  So we do things for free or way below the amount needed to sustain ourselves.  We want to believe this is right, but it feels draining.  And yet to focus on how to make income feels as though we are putting the emphasis on the wrong driver. 
     But I may have had a breakthrough.  Recently I listened to a truly inspirational recording of a workshop about fulfilling our purpose.  In essence, it is imperative to live our purpose for the love of it, for the love of others, so everything can happen in the best way possible.  Otherwise things will be off kilter.  One participant asked where you draw the line between unselfish love and being a doormat or martyr.  "Yes!" I shouted to the laptop.  "That's what I want to know, too!"  The speaker, Chet Manchester, then gave this quote:  "Share your light, not your oil."
     When we really are fulfilling our purpose, God or the Highest Good is working through us, and that light is what we share.  But when we give too much of our time or energy, when we begin to feel exhausted, we can be sure we are giving of our oil because our divine nature has mingled with our ego.  We give from our need to feel valued, or an overdeveloped sense of guilt or responsibility.  We grow to resent others or hurt ourselves, and then there is no way to sustain our light.  You know what this feels like: someone sucking the marrow out of your bones.  Or indeed, you feel like you are the one dependent upon another's energy to feed you.  To be absolutely clear, we all occasionally need the help of others.  And that is indeed a blessing because giving and receiving keep the divine energy in a gorgeous, meandering flow.  It's what makes the world go round.  But when need becomes a lifestyle choice it's time to take note and do something different both for our sake and that of others.
     Coincidentally I was sharing this with an acquaintance who said something powerful.  Quoting Bible, she noted that Jesus said, "Love your neighbor as yourself."  "You notice he didn't say more than yourself.  There has to be an equal respect between yourself and another."  I had never considered that before.  Mutuality requires appropriate boundaries.  Just as floodgates can open and close for the best use of water power, so “yes” and “no” do likewise.  Hearing “no” in response to a request, I must consider that another person or a wider perspective may better serve my need.  Saying “no” may be your way of teaching another how to fish.
     So keep your wick trimmed and your lamp full.  Then shine on, glorious Light.  Shine on!

Pax tecum.
    

Being Vulnerable to Gifts - Part 2

Wow!  What a great day and a half I had at the Cape Cod Writers Conference.  Imagine a place where you just walk up to people and ask, "What do you write about?" English gardens, the vegan diet, soldiering in Vietnam, poetry.  Whether novice or published author, all were willing to share advice and experiences.  Sadly, it was nowhere near the shoreline, but I did have an awesome cod dinner.

I knew when I went there something extraordinary would happen.  It did.  But not what I could have foreseen.  I sat reading in the large comfortable lobby when inexplicably I ascended into a state of higher consciousness.  This has happened to me twice before but under very different and very private circumstances.  Here I was out in public!

I began people watching intensely.  The playful exchange between a middle-aged man and his three-year-old daughter.  A gorgeous woman in her 70s looking every inch turquoise blue and seaside fashionable.  My heart blew open.  How extraordinary all these people seemed to me, even though I knew nothing about them.  

Then I saw him, the young man I came here for.  Dressed modestly in a white shirt and black trousers, he politely approached the man at the registration desk and asked for something.  The clerk replied, "We don't have any openings at the moment, but you can fill out our application, and maybe we'll have a job for you in a few weeks."  He took the papers and looked around this bustling lobby.  I smiled and silently drew him over to the empty seat at my table.  Just as silently he spent the next 20 minutes filling out the form.  I heard a persistent voice in my head, "You are so dearly loved.  You are so dearly loved!"  As a Reiki practitioner I knew simply to get out of the way and just hold the space for this love to flood through me to him.  I would glance at him from time to time, but nothing seemed to divert his attention.  Why he needed this gift I'll never know.  But it was imperative that he receive it.  With his application completed, he got up and returned it to the clerk who kindly assured him they'd keep it on file.  Then he walked out.

The rest of the program was immensely helpful to me, and my acquaintance's workshop opened my mind to new ways of writing.  But nothing could compare with this experience.  The conference ended.  The weather turned ugly.  I packed up the car.  It would be a stormy ride back to Connecticut.  As I eased out of the parking lot into the traffic teeming with weekend tourists, I struggled to read the street signs as I made my way out of Hyannis.  And then one last miracle.  I saw my young man biking with a friend through these same streets, smiling and laughing with abandon.  Mission accomplished apparently.

Pax tecum.

Being Vulnerable to Gifts

There's a line from James Taylor's, Baby Boom Baby, that I've been singing to myself a lot these days:  What do I do if my dream comes true?  We can spend so much time planning, worrying, and visualizing that when a long-awaited event actually happens we shrink back a step.  Uh oh.  Now what?

In my case I whipped out my credit card.  That was hard in this time of fiscal austerity.  But when the Universe handed me the gift of an opportunity, "no, thank you" was not an option.  Just a couple of days before I had sent up a prayer saying, "I need things to come into my life now.  I can't wait any more, and I'm tired of blocking them.  I am willing to let go of all the self-imposed limitations on my life.  I am open to receiving. " 

Acting upon my new-found courage, I reached out to two authors I admire.  We are merely acquaintances, but that was enough for me to send them my declaration that I was now pursuing a career in writing and ask for some advice.  I imagined prescriptions on how many pages to write daily, the useful e newsletters.  But noooooooo!  Two days later I got the first gift from one author which set my world reeling.  "You've got to go to writers conferences.  There's one in Cape Cod next week, and I'll be there."  My heart stopped for a few seconds.  I have been pinching pennies for some time as I go through this evolution.  I know how much conferences and hotels cost.  It was madness to think I should spend $400 and drive up there.  But resistance seemed like ingratitude.  So I signed up for a day and a half of courses and one night in a posh conference center on the Cape.  I cannot imagine what will happen when I get there, but something will.  If nothing else, I'm getting some really good seafood.

The second gift was from the author who just happens to be living the life I want.  I met her at a book signing and liked her instantly.  She responded to my email by saying some very comforting things and giving me her phone number, encouraging me to call her when I needed help.

Reaching past my inhibitions to ask for something is hard enough.  Saying "yes, thank you" is harder still because it propels me into the world at large.  I'm now vulnerable to gifts!  Who knows what else may befall me and how I shall have to respond?  But the logical conclusion to this line of questioning is what gifts might I bear for others?  Whose life might I step into at the right time in answer to their prayers with the gift they've been hoping for because I chose to step outside my own limitations?  I can't wait to find out.  And I promise to send postcards along the way!

Pax tecum.