The Love Letter

I am sitting, facing my computer, while a war wages within me. “You must write.” “I cant write.” “You can think of something.” “No – I cant.” I listened to a webinar, as I do each day while getting ready for work. The woman said that anyone who is asking the Divine for abundance in love or money must be open to receiving. She said that in the book by Julia Cameron, The Artists Way, there is a lesson for each student. The lesson is to write a love letter to yourself. If you are not able to receive love from yourself, then you are not open to receiving from the Universe. Can you see yourself as worthy and deserving?

I quickly dismissed the idea. I’m sure I could do it if I wanted to. Each time one of my family members celebrates a milestone birthday, I gift them with a writing. For sure, I am able to find something to acknowledge about myself. After all, I will be crossing into the land of 60 in April. For two weeks I have stalled. Ignoring the promptings of my Spirit, I have made life busy and my mind preoccupied. I even folded up the computer and put it out of sight. Waking in the middle of the night, I can feel the test that looms before me. “I don’t have to do this. My Creator knows that I am worthy of love. This proves nothing.” “Ok, then. Do it.”

OK!


“Dear Pat, I like your hair”. No, I can’t say that. It’s permed and colored and really fine. It takes a lot of work to look even presentable. Alright, how about, “I like your eyes”. That sounds like a pick up line at 2:00 am on a Friday night.

Think back to the Valentine you wrote for your love last year. That was truly from the heart. The love you expressed to him brought tears of joy to his eyes. Can you not offer yourself that level of devotion?


I’ll try it again.

Dearest Pat,

If I could hold you, I would show you how much you mean to me. My arms would enfold you and make you feel safe and secure. You would know that I will never let any harm come to you. I will always be right here to love and share my life with you. I will not forsake you. 

You mean everything to me - our crazy, rambling conversations; our giggling like children; our supporting each other in times of need; our dreams of the future raising grandchildren and traveling to exotic destinations. I am so grateful for your continual forgiveness and compassion. You allow me to grow and encourage me to become all that I can be. You want the best for me regardless of how that may impact other aspects of your life.

I don’t care about the excess pounds that you agonize over. You are so much more than that. I am inspired by your strength and courage. You are relentless in your pursuit of healing and transformation. Like the Hermit in the Tarot, you lift your lantern and offer a light to others along the path. Your willingness to be vulnerable and share what you learn motivates younger women that follow in your footsteps. So many times, I have seen you fall, but somehow you find the Will to soldier on with your evolution.

I am so proud to call you friend. Everywhere you go and everyone you touch is changed by the loving energy that you vibrate. I see it when we walk through town, build fires in the woods and sit with your animals all around you. The flowers bend to greet you and the hummingbirds hurry back to your front porch each spring. Hawks, pines, lakes and horses all whisper their affection to you.

Never forget how much I love you, the angels love you and the Divine loves you. If you ever feel lonely, open your heart and know I am here. I will be with you until you draw your last breath. I understand that sometimes life can be scary and uncertain. Those are the times I hope you can feel my arms embracing you, reassuring you that it will all be ok. My love is eternal. You have not been forgotten. No matter where you go or what you are doing, I love you.

You are so blessed with amazing daughters, caring family, and a multitude of friends. Realize each day how much has been given to you and stand ready to receive even more. Keep being you. I know you will. We are a team and I am so happy to be with you.

Happy Birthday, Sweetie.

All my love,

Me

 

“That wasn’t so hard was it?” “No, not entirely. Not once I let go of the conditions I feel I have not met and the goals I have not achieved. I’m OK. I have followed my own path and I’m happy about that.” As I enter the last trilogy of my life, I am content. There are places I’d like to go and things I’d like to do, but overall life is grand as it is. Yes, I am open to receive the abundance that Spirit holds for me. I challenge my readers to complete this exercise, it’s well worth the effort.

Seeds

 

It is - 15° tonight in Kalispell. I am sitting in front of the fire with my Irish sweater pulled close. My rabbit has been brought in from the porch and is snuggled into a crate in the mudroom. She is happily munching alfalfa hay and animal crackers. The dog and cats are snoozing contentedly near my legs. As I imagine all of the wildlife outdoors in this frigid cold, I think of my garden and my seeds that lay resting under the snow.

I planted hollyhock and poppies late in November. The timing has to be just right. If planting is too early, the seeds may be tempted to germinate. If I wait too long, the soil may freeze hard prohibiting the planting. Right now, the blanket of white is protecting them from the sub-zero temperatures and keeping them hydrated. The soil rises and falls as it freezes and thaws throughout the winter. The upheaval softens the tough exterior of the shell. The seed actually benefits from the harshness of the conditions. The flower sleeping within would remain imprisoned if the shell was not worn and weathered from stress.

The seeds do not question the timing. The seeds do not pace or fret under the snow. They seem to know that all the difficulties they are going through will allow them to open even more fully when conditions are right. It is me that sets up a happy light to cope and is anxious about the future. Will there be enough wood for the season? Will my loved one return? My seeds wait in quiet anticipation. The idea that spring will not come or that they will not bloom, never crosses their mind. Embarrassed, I admit, I do not have the faith of my tiny seeds. I look behind me and I see tattered dreams and broken promises. Do I dare to imagine that spring will bring growth and healing? “Trust,” says the seed.

 I see that the way I greet each day as a choice. The sub-zero temperatures and continual clouds can push me deeper into the recesses of coffee and doubts. Or, I can decide to accept the circumstances I face and stop resisting life. Winter winds blow and the thermometer falls in spite of bracing myself against them. Surrender is the best option. I lay down my shield of protection, my need for control. The effort is futile. Life will have its way with or without my permission.

 Inside the seed is a memory of sunshine and a vision of green tomorrows. I too, hold the remembrance of the heat of physical union and the effervescence of unbridled laughter. Love waits within me for the right conditions. My garden seeds can wait decades, if necessary, to burst forth in magnificent display, their colors bringing joy and happiness to all that see them. The same can be said for a Divine Partnership. When the love is unconditional and the timing is perfect, the relationship is a blessing to all that meet them. Their energy reverberates across humanity and beyond boundaries. These couples truly walk hand in hand with their Creator. They are living examples of compassion and forgiveness. This path is not for the weak of heart. There are obstacles and tests of commitment all along the way. This relationship is worth the delays endured. 

 My seeds will continue resting under the snow, realizing that soon this phase will pass. It’s not long now, when they can burst through the soil and unfurl their leaves in the warmth of the sun. The rain will patter down on their buds and they will burst forth with enthusiasm. I will give thanks for them and shower them with gratitude for demonstrating that there is a Divine Plan, that all is in order in the world. I am not the Master of my Universe. I can let my seed coat drop and relax in the reassurance that all is well. Faith and Trust, my seeds keep reminding me. I may not be able to see it out my window today, but it is all I need to hold.

 Spring is just around the corner. The trees will bud out in their beautiful yellow-green and the robins and the red-winged blackbirds will return. The lake will thaw and the cherry blossoms will bring forth their pink radiance. My love is ready. My seeds and I await the perfect conditions to break free of constraints and bring joyfulness into the world. Watch out, here we come!

 

 

 

 

 

My Do It Yourself Project

I have been working on a project for most of my adult life. There have been moments of discouragement when I think I will never see the final result. Each year I get older and each year I see how much more needs remodeling. Maybe, I should just plug in the television and drink a beer. Then there are times when the progress is noticeable, and I give thanks for the hours invested. I’ve spent decades peeling away the layers, sanding off rough corners and sewing the fabric that was torn. I’ve returned the pieces that were not mine to their rightful owners and restored the treasures that had been lost or stolen. Defensive walls have been removed brick by brick; boundary lines have been set stone by stone. Plans have been drawn and modified. Ideas have been revised and discarded. Locations have changed. The challenge has been to sort out what is rubbish and should be tossed, and what is truth and should be saved. The physical exterior has deteriorated slightly but the interior is polishing up quite nicely.

As any do-it-yourselfer knows, there is a plethora of opinions out there on any subject. I consult with experts. I read books, watch You Tube videos, attend conferences, listen to eminent speakers and gather with like-minded students. But, it is ultimately up to me to get the work done. I am my project.

I cannot hire a contractor to complete this self-improvement task. I wish I could employ someone else to run on the tread mill when I am feeling tired, but the results would be disappointing. I could sit in a chair and read about exercise but the desired effects would allude me. I must do it myself. No one else can sweat for me. After a 20 year sabbatical, I am practicing karate. There is no short cut to remembering the forms or strengthening my muscles. It’s going to take effort and focus to reap the benefits. I am helping myself by watching videos and practicing in between classes at the gym. It’s up to me to commit the time to hone my skill. The same goes for my horseback riding with Lakota. I cannot improve my proficiency with her if I do not get on. It’s up to me to establish the body language and cues that allow us to communicate. 

I have chosen a spiritual path. My intent is to learn how to discern between the egoic mind, which is forever playing in my head, and the Divine Spirit that moves through me. My Creator has a heck of a time getting through to me when there is an endless dialogue of old conditioning blocking my guidance system. I challenged myself to 100 days of one hour meditations. In the stillness, I am allowing old fears, triggers, parental accusations and limitations to rise to the surface and be healed. I know when it is my mind bubbling forth when I can watch the thought and label it “past” or “future”. The Divine speaks to me in the moment, in the “holy instant.” My Spirit is calm and steady; it has no needs or wants. It is love, flowing in and out. Worry, fear, and anxiety are only the mind. I get to this place of awareness by doing the work. I cannot hire an expert or drop off my brain for dissection while I go to the office. If it was possible, it would be worth taking out a loan for this job. Sitting with my heart and mind for countless hours is committing to the project. I have to do this myself. Each session leaves me more peaceful than the previous. Even if I am distracted or feel heavy in my center, I continue because I know my connection to my soul is worth the investment of time. Serenity and spiritual evolution are my goals. There is no race or deadline. I’ll keep at it until I get there. 

Each person and situation that comes to me is a mirror for me to reflect my progress. My outer world reveals my inner being. Judgmental individuals no longer hold power over me; I see the punishment they inflict on themselves. There is nothing that could be done to meet their approval since their mind is continually berating them with criticism. The mind is forever creating separation between people and with Spirit. If we tap into the knowing that is deep down inside of us, we will be reassured and comforted. The static is our societal and familial belief system smacking up against our knowing. Peace is possible once we sort through the clutter and reorganize our inner space. The mind is a useful tool once it has been tamed and is not allowed to run the show. “Be still and know that I am God.” Let your heart guide you. Find the stillness between the thoughts. Rest here. Finding true peace is a do-it-yourself project. Volumes of journals that I have written over my life, track my progress. They are also a recording of how many times I fell off the track. What I can say is that I have somehow found the strength each time to get up and go back to the stripping and painting, the digging and sowing. The love I embody becomes purified and shines brighter after every opportunity for growth, which can - at first glance - look like an obstacle.

There are times when I can hire someone to help me with my project, like getting a good haircut or enjoying a massage. The rest is up to me. I realize I am a fixer-upper. Peace and happiness visit me more and more often in my rehabilitated vessel. I am worth the time I spend. It has taken me a long time to feel this way. Each time someone walks out my door, never to return, I understand that I may have insecurity or a fear that needs healing. Or, it can be that they are not in a place of receiving love at this moment. The other person may feel unworthy or broken in some way. I bless them and thank them. When I am in connection with the Divine, my being burns brightly with an internal fire even in the midst of a cold Montana winter.

Best of luck on all your projects. I will always be a work in progress. I’m going back to my buffing and scouring.

Empowerment

 
I had rented a tiny cottage in Cape Town, South Africa. It was the last segment of a solitary trip that had taken me from the Kalahari Desert to the precipice of Table Top Mountain. The rainy season had settled in on this southernmost tip of the continent. Sheets of rain pelted the windows of the bungalow as I sat curled up on the sofa. No phone, no computer, no television, and no place to go. If I had wanted to find myself, then here I was. No distractions, just me face to face with me. I wondered how I got here and why? I had just survived an incredible ordeal in the desert alone with a disreputable guide. Thousands of hectares of nothing but sand and scrub trees were the only witness to the intended assault. What was I thinking? I had been so trusting and vulnerable. How had I allowed myself to be in that predicament? What force had protected me?

Now far from the desert, while I sat in the safety and comfort of the cottage, I kept hearing a faint line pass through my mind, “Seek healing in unexpected places.” Anyplace around here would be unexpected, I imagined. What was that supposed to mean? Where was I supposed to go? I paced around the house. With nothing else to do, I could walk into town to get something to eat or find a computer to check in with the states. I donned a raincoat and headed down the steep hill into town, the refrain to seek healing still playing through my head. My favorite expression directed at the Universe is to state, “Show me a burning bush. Don’t make me guess.” Wind whipped the rain in torrents and it quickly soaked my jeans and shoes. I trudged on. Laughing out loud, I read a purple sign in front of a house, that clearly spelled out, “Energetic Healing.” “OK” I said to the Universe, “I’ll play.” I walked up to the door and knocked. A man answered and said, “Where have you been? I’ve been waiting for you. My car won’t start and my afternoon appointment cancelled, so I figured someone must be stopping by”.

His name was Alan Davies. It was an amazing afternoon of conversation and drinking tea. I told him, “I don’t even know why I am here. This is crazy.” He asked me, “How far do you have to go to run away from who you really are?” It was pretty amusing that Cape Town is about as far as you can get from my home on a globe. “You are a healer. You have a gift. Your mother and your grandmother had the power and they gave it away. You are running away from yours.” I was aghast. I refuted his statement. “What am I supposed to do? Hang out a sign?” He replied, “I did and you came.” That shut me up. I told him I had just spent the last five years completing a Ph.D. This does not compute with my logical mind. Alan reminded me of how many young women had sat at my table drinking tea while we were all students at Cornell. He explained that I had been gifting them with so much more than tea. Most of them were the same age as my daughters. I had been helping them recognize their power.

During my discussion with Alan, I realized that I was in the midst of growing into my power, my own sense of worth and ability. This is what I was doing at 50 years old. This was the answer to my questioning and traipsing around the world.

 As a child, I had grown up in an environment that stripped that from me. The women in my life had relinquished all power and expected me to follow that path. The religious teachings I had received reinforced that edict. Here was a man telling me that I was powerful and that my role was to share that with others. We all have an inner power. We all have an inner knowing. It’s a peeling away of our conditioning that frees us to see and embrace this power, to know the Divine is in us and not somewhere in a far off heaven.

It’s almost ten years later and I see how profound that meeting was. My greatest rewards have been helping someone else be successful, find their confidence, realize their potential. Sometimes, it is as simple as educating a person about the needs of a plant in order for them to grow their own fruits and vegetables. Sometimes, it’s helping a student perform a persuasive speech or complete a winning job application. More often than not, it’s assisting a fellow adult to see that we are only trapped in our mind. There is always another way of seeing a situation. If we can let go of expectations and attachments, we can surrender to our inner power and the greater part of ourselves that holds a deeper wisdom. Eckhart Tolle says that, “We are never upset for the reasons we think we are.” Often it is something that happened a long time ago and an event has triggered the old wound. Accepting and surrendering to life as it is can feel like giving up, but in truth it takes a great deal of courage. It is the greatest challenge of the Spiritual Warrior, to stand in our own power and know we are alright without controlling the outcome. Once we have come to own our inner strength, there are limitless ways to share this with those that are experiencing uncertainty.

I have witnessed people I respect over the years give this gift to others.

I watched my friend take the two ends of the baling twine and cross them over, first right over left and then left over right. He pulled the string taut and behold, a perfect knot. “Now you try it,” he said to the young man sitting on the bale of hay with his legs dangling off the trailer’s edge. The youth struggled to keep the twine under control. He dropped it not once, but several times before getting the first twist accomplished. “Great job, keep at it. You’ve almost got it this time,” said his enthusiastic teacher. “Don’t give up now.” Concentration and coordination were failing as the handicapped boy tried again. His eyes began following the path the dog was taking and his focus left the string. “Come on. Let’s try it together. I know you can do it.” The young man looped the ends once more and this time when he pulled the twine, the knot held its position. He beamed with pride. A simple twist of a string had boosted his confidence and left him with a sense of accomplishment. The kindness of the mentor had enabled the boy to reach a new level of achievement.

The woman was terrified of her horse. She had experienced a traumatic fall some years previous and had not been able to conquer her fear. I was there the day the trainer led the woman’s horse and encouraged her to get onboard. The rider climbed up, outfitted with a helmet and a flak jacket. Slowly the horse walked around the outside of the round pen, while the passenger clung to the mane and reins. Around and around the trainer led the horse until the woman began to breathe a little easier. She began to sit up a little straighter in her saddle. It was a first step toward overcoming the anxiety that had kept her grounded. The trainer could not erase the terror but she could help the woman reclaim her power.

At Cornell University, a common ailment is the “imposter syndrome.” I was a middle aged divorcee attempting upper level graduate degrees at Cornell University. Who did I think I was studying and working on a PhD? Who was I kidding? Someday, someone would find out that I wasn’t that smart and that I had no right to be there. I was just a mom and I must have gotten lost somewhere along the way. In the midst of one of those self-flagellation tirades, I met a professor emeritus in the education department. He was 85 years old and still teaching classes. Verne had published more text books than all of the other professors in the department combined. He didn’t care that he hadn’t been paid in 20 years, he taught for the love of his students. Maybe he could see my self-doubt, but for whatever reason he assigned himself to be my guide. We would meet for a sack lunch in the arboretum on a bench. He’d ask me about my classes and my daughters. Verne was always there explaining his latest science experiment or his latest research paper. He became my hero, 40 years my senior, and he was still coaching the track team and inspiring fledgling science teachers. He couldn’t do the work for me but he could be an understanding ear. He described his own challenges when he was a student and during his academic career. His faith in my abilities encouraged me when my conviction flagged. With Verne as my support, my own research projects blossomed. I don’t know if I would be where I am today without his empowering me along the way.

I know what it is like to feel powerless in the face of a hopeless relationship, financial situation, dead-end career and health crisis. I have been there. With that said, I have also watched amazing, selfless teachers and guides show the way through these dark nights of the soul. They hold the light and raise the vibration, all the while asking and prompting others to find the power that is hidden within. Helping another individual to get up off their knees and embrace their inner strength in the face of adversity is one of life’s grandest rewards. I claim my power for the women in my past and I challenge my daughters to hold on to theirs in humility and self-assurance. Empowerment is a quiet sense of dignity.

Offer a helping hand to those that are lost. When someone feels there is no way out, do not make the way clear for them. Instead, show them, teach them that they have the power to release themselves. Open their minds to alternatives. Power comes from finding the answer within you. Be a living example and shine your light.

 

 

 

My Valentine

If I could, I would give to you: the scent of the pines after a summer rain, the tingle of the ocean surf as it tickles your toes, the song of the meadow lark on an August afternoon, and the blaze of a fire deep in the snowy woods. I’d bring to you: the thrill of an eagle lifting off with his catch, the fuzzy comfort of a decades old blanket, and the romance of a candle lit dinner and a fine bottle of wine. I’d gift to you: the promise of tomorrow with each goodnight kiss, the soothing calmness of a mountain stream and the feeling of home in cookies fresh from the oven.

 I wish I could somehow dip each of these experiences into a chocolate decorated with telltale hints of the surprises enclosed. The box would hold dark, milk and white chocolates - sprinkled, frosted and wrapped - to be enjoyed at your leisure. You could select the dark chocolate truffle with the white sugar sprinkle. As your teeth penetrate the outer shell, the magical chill of frozen fog surrounds you. The lake appears clear as you gaze, the mist hanging just above the surface. Each blade of grass and dogwood branch is coated in a crystalline cocoon. The air is still and calm. The snow covered pines begin to tremble and you expect a medieval knight to emerge on his steed. This time it is a doe and her yearling fawn. The taste of magic and possibility linger on your tongue as you smile.

One more, you tell yourself, only one more chocolate. You decide on the milk chocolate delight with the dash of cinnamon red on top. Maybe it is paprika, nutmeg or chili powder. Here goes. As the truffle melts in your mouth the sun washes over your exposed skin. The rays are welcome and life giving. Your face turns to greet the radiance like a flower catching the full benefit. You feel the sand under your toes. The red rock rises up to the clear blue sky and the sage brush surrounds you. You are slightly winded from the exertion of climbing this precipice. The view is breathtaking, nourishing your soul. All the aches and pains your joints have held in the past dissolve in this healing environment. You can sense the spirit of the native peoples that lived here long ago. The notes of a tin whistle float through the canyon below. The heat and the sensations liquefy all of your concerns as you make the last swallow of honey colored, caramel deliciousness.

What if there was another way of packaging these experiences? Could I take the fraction of a second before a long, slow kiss and wrap it in a rose bud? As the rose unfolds, the scent wafts into the nostrils stimulating the entire brain. Captured is that instant when we are only a whisper apart. Your 5:00 shadow barely brushing my chin. Hearts pounding, anticipation peaking. Eyes close, skin shivers, the ever so slight inhalation and the mingling of soap and perfume. Hands caressing, pulling closer, lips meet – surrendering, giving, receiving, crushing. That is the gift I would give my love in a floral bouquet.

The traditional Valentine – a lovely, lace embellished card, a heart shaped box of Russell Stovers and a deep red rose are lovely but they leave so much lacking. I wish to give much more beyond the store bought perfunctory items.

I wish to give him love and sunshine, magic and wonder. I have not discovered a way to capture these experiences so I will take his hand and begin creating them. Valentine, let us go into the world walking in gratitude each day for the love we share. This is a day I honor you and I honor what we have together. Let us always realize what a blessing this is. Come with me and let’s be off on our adventure, my best friend, my lover, my muse. 

Happy Valentine’s Day!


written January 2016

Reunion

My heart is a flutter.

My breath comes quickly.

I feel the blood coursing through my veins.

The wait is over; our reunion is at hand.

I hear my name slipping from his lips.

He reaches for me. I am a ship sliding into port.

The days have been endless.

They piled up like drifts across my soul.

My pen is breaking free of the icy stillness.

I feel warmth returning to my body.

A thaw washes over my being.

Months melt away in the blink of an eye.

A blessing is bestowed upon us today.

A healing is at hand.

Time has no meaning right here, right now.

As the sun rises to greet me, I share with him my dreams.

I thank the Divine for giving me this day.

I let him know, I did not waiver. I did not falter.

I held to my heart’s calling.

A quiet encircles me in a peaceful embrace.

Knowing expands in the freedom of this space.

Joy bubbles up gently to tickle my nose.

Soon, I tell myself.

The waiting is over. Our reunion is at hand.

September 15, 2015

Fire

Each evening we gathered sticks, rotten bark and fallen trees and added them to the pile. We talked, we laughed, we shared as we gathered our load. Conversations would blend one into the other, topics often spanning from one night to the next. The effort could take hours on one day and only minutes another. The discussions rode their own wave of calmness interrupted by peaks of emotion. My friend and I, sometimes consoled each other, providing support. Then again, sometimes playing devil’s advocate to see a new perspective. Our branches often aligned but could also cross in disagreement. As the talks grew deeper, the pile became higher. Summer heat and winter cold may have slowed the building but still it progressed year after year. We were eliminating scaffolding material from the forest floor and tending the land. This desire we held in common. Snow would settle on the pile and the wood would shift and groan. The spring melt would reveal that our pile had become stronger and meshed into a solid foundation.

It was not time to set fire to our construction. The conditions were not right. There could be no wind, the soil must be moist, the wood must be dry and there must be time to tend the intensity. So we continued to add brush and open our hearts in friendship. The fire was not the objective. It was the time in the woods, the watching the pond turn to glass, the deer creeping close enough to nibble the moss that clung to the branches at our feet, throwing sticks for Dodge and Aries, and embracing the good fortune of these moments.

Then one day we saw that the pile was smoldering. We did not know how this had started or when. We had been so careful in our actions. Each time my friend and I met to work in the forest, we avoided stirring up the heat that crept under the pile. Water was pored over, soil was dumped on top, and leaves were raked away. Still we could feel it linger.

Then one night, the mountain that we had built, ignited. It started deep within and flamed out in every direction. Instead of fighting the fire, we drew close and relished the warmth. I looked at my friend and he at me. The light from his eyes told me all I needed to hear. The years of building and tending, talking and sharing had secretly prepared us for this moment. Love had crept in like a thief in the night. Quietly without fanfare, sure and true. As I moved into his embrace, passion exploded and would not be extinguished. An inferno burned across my guarded heart melting the walls of defense in an instant. The sparks flew even higher into the starry sky and I knew I was safe at last.

October 16,2015