New growth out of old wood

I had spent my morning exploring the topic of synesthesia and the way we prune back our sensory experiences from the moment we are born; something synesthetes don’t do quite so much, resulting in a far bushier “tree” of sensory perception than the average person. As a synesthete myself, yet someone who also experiences hyper-sensitivity and chronic pain (the three have been shown to be overlapping), I know just how easy it can be to give up those broader sensory experiences that once brought so much playfulness and joy out of the desire to stop feeling “too much”. It had occurred to me that chronic pain is like the down side of the see-saw on which synaesthesia is the colourful gift at the highest end (I really wouldn’t be without it and the sensory adventures it takes me on) and sensitivity is the mixing pot of both, made up of both pluses and minuses, depending on how challenging these heightened sensitivities make the experience of life (for more on this, see my related post).

Having deep-dived all the science around this fascinating overlap, I was left wondering how much my own synesthesia had been sacrificed in recent years to the desire to cut off further pain. What if embracing synesthesia with all my might is a way to tip that experiential see-saw towards the joy of feeling “more” instead of the chronic pain of it…but, then, what if I am too late, at the age of fifty, to make this switch. Can neurology be regrown, as easily as all that, with just an intention set?

47305481_10213532902777214_4258775852864503808_nThen my walk, which took me past my healing tree, answered my question for me. This gnarled “old” tree, my favourite, is so woody and leafless, so characterful yet staid in its grey and lichen-coated maturity and yet…already…crazy new sprouts, shoots and buds are eagerly finding their tender and colourful way out of it, even before winter is properly started.

This was all I needed to know in answer to my query. New growth out of old wood is infinitely possible; we see it all the time, out in Nature, happening before our very eyes. Winter’s tree is reliably replaced by springtime’s new growth, to a pattern that always serves the purposes of the tree, however it may look from the outside. Whilst anyone may choose to withdraw inwards to suit the season, becoming as woody, barren, plain and withdrawn as they must be to meet the harsher climes of life, we still get to choose when to “sprout” our way out, in new and colourfully creative ways…over and over again, exactly as we say so.

Without a single word having been exchanged, I felt as grateful as ever for the timeless tree-wisdom that came to my aid. Already, I had been feeling my own vitality poised for such a growth spurt yet a trip-wire in my mind had been over-riding it, that thing (now dissolved) being the self-limiting belief that it simply wasn’t possible to achieve at this mature stage of my game. Yet regeneration is built into the very cycles of Nature, it already has our back, relying only on the belief that it is possible, desired and certainly not feared…and that, at last, we are ready for it.

Related post:

The synesthesia – sensitivity – chronic pain link

Posted in Consciousness & evolution, Health & wellbeing, Menu, metaphor, Personal Development, Recovery chronic illness | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , | 6 Comments

When will we stop making new sides to be on?

In whatever I do, I can’t help but be the bridge builder; its how I’m “made”, which is to see both sides or, more accurately, the fuller picture.

It’s this same over the currently topical matter of feminine v masculine, which isn’t meant to be a “versus” any more, according to those in the women camp, and yet as soon as we go on about all our past wounds, what we’ve been through for eons, wanting recognition and recompense for all that murky water under the bridge, we are no longer on that bridge anymore; rather we are following, with our eyes and our attention, all that filthy old water that has already passed underneath it. Our necks are now so stretched that we are hanging precariously over the edge of the healing bridge,  fixated on all the mud and sludge that has ever been dredged up along those old river banks and more still to come, since there are many lifetimes of it to process if we choose to make that our work. In the end, we’re so busy feeling sorry for what has already been that we can’t even be on that bridge any more; our attention is running away from us and we are caught up, once more, in the very themes we thought we were so ready to let go of.

A word caught my attention last weekend: “husbandry”. I had got chatting to a woman at a craft market about her collection of sheep and alpacas (all of whom live out their natural lives in her care) while she runs a business based on wool and alpaca poo for fertiliser. It was a fascinating conversation because I could see myself doing something like that, one day, having such a love of both the animals and of wool as the ideal natural fibre (and the shearing of these animals, done right, is part of their care in what is a reciprocal arrangement for both human and animal benefit so the vegan in me has no issue with that). It was when I got home, wanting to look up more about alpacas and was searching for the right word, that “husbandry” came to mind and it made me stop in my tracks; what a strange double-meaning we have around that word, or is it really double or, actually, the very same thing? What is a husband, what (historically) was it meant to signify? I mean, in the most recent time-frame of around 6000 years, during which we divided in such a way (whether over gender, nationality, belief or religion…) that we collectively believed ourselves in perpetual lack and thought that we needed “strong men” to take on all the burdens of a commercial, defence-oriented, possession-obsessed world in order to survive, that word took on many layers of meaning.

It’s as I pick back through them that I see how distortion happened to the word and what it represents; how even best intentions got buried in the sludge of time and we have lumped all these negatives together into a counter-culture around gender stereotypes and ideas of what we think constitute wholeness and liberty. Perhaps, in the beginning, good intentions around these very same things fuelled the birth of an arrangement that we have come to look upon with such  disdain and yet, to me, a true husband is a sacred concept, one I deeply respect and am so grateful for having play its part in my world, to which I bring my very highest concept of “wife”, with no shuddering from that part of me that considers itself to be feminist (in the non-confrontational sense of the word).

Straight from the dictionary, the word “husband” doesn’t tell us any more than we already know, about the male in a partnership, a husband to a wife. It’s when you go deeper to attach it to “husbandry” that you get to its root. To do with land, its “A man who tills and cultivates the soil; a farmer, a husbandman” (and that whole concept of farming the land to fulfil local requirements in a world that had stop migrating with the seasons in favour of “possessing” land and making it work for our uses was introduced with that “masculine” version of our collective history). Yet I suspect the word even predates the birth of agriculture. In the context of the broader household including livestock, “husbandry” is defined as “the care of a household”, “the control or judicious use of resources”, “the scientific control and management of a branch of farming and especially of domestic animals” and to that we can add “care” of a wife. Yes of course, these are all concepts related to ownership and lack (since frugality and control only exist within such concepts) and, yes, we know these concepts have led to so very much abuse of masculine power over countless centuries, during which women were often treated as of similar or less value to the household as a man’s livestock. Yet buried in there, somewhere, is that word “care” and implicit within all of these definitions is a sense of “burden” and “responsibility”, of “doing duty” and wanting to “protect”.

The male has been fuelled, for hundred of years, by a belief in his ability to fulfill these very roles and in “doing the right thing”, even when that “judiciousness” seemed harsh and unnatural to the feminine. Much of what, to this day, demonstrates the very worse aspects of male behaviour has been generated out of fear over the performance of these ingrained roles, which have been a burden and distortion to the “higher male”. I can recall how those times when my father was his most severe and even most frightening towards us as children, which was rare, were when he was in abject fear of lack or of reneging his responsibilities as “man of the household”, something which burdened and foreshortened his creative talents to the day he died. Meanwhile, I have stood very-much to gain from my husband’s preparedness to go out and play the commercial game of life while I focus on creative pursuits that have very little currency in the world as it is currently tilted; so, husbandry in our sense has been a reciprocation as it, once, was surely meant to be; allowing men and women to focus on their particular talents. Yes this has also become distorted, resulting in discriminations that should not be there, but we are in danger of throwing the baby out with the bathwater when we want everything to be exactly the same for both genders, which is to deny their natural differences.

There’s no doubt, there’s an almighty fire rising up in women right now; and its strong, its determined, it’s going to be heard, which I embrace as a necessity in the rebalancing of our world. Unseen, undealt-with with hurts are rising up to the surface, along with that mighty torch of feminine energy, and I embrace that too…as opportunity to heal and transmute all we’ve been through, to the benefit of all. I regard this as necessary and I’m part of this movement. The problem arises when “being wounded” becomes our ticket of entry into some very desirable-seeming circles of “belonging”; all the more appealing to those who have felt left outside in the cold for so very long. When being able to declare “me too” gains us exclusive entry into places we think we want to go, to make friends, to feel the power of momentum that comes with that elusive thing, female camaraderie, this becomes very dangerous ground since we now have vested interest in our wounds. So we perpetuate them, even make more of them, in order to “belong” to these elite women’s circles, roaring our fiery roar together.  Women want to be revered like goddesses and this goddess movement has become quite the trendy “thing” lately; a movement of sorts, even bordering on a feminine cult in some quarters…and quite an appealing one too, with some beguiling leaders and, often, quite a price ticket on their membership packages, promising the kind of feminine community-feeling that so many women long for in their heart-of-hearts, thus making them easy prey to whatever premium packages come their way. In those cases, they are, primarily, income streams and pyramid structures rather than organic communities (and certain women still fall into the cracks of, somehow, not fitting into whatever polished image they are trying to convey, finding themselves left out in the cold by circles made up of spiritually glamorous and, usually, younger cliquey women). To me, this is a very-masculine format, dressed up as “the feminine”, and I am wary as hell of it, wherever I perceive it.

Even where no money changes hands, I have a strong wariness around women-only formats; you get to know what you are going to be in-for based on this criteria and it only feels like the counter discrimination to the man-oriented world we have all been in for so long. My saving grace, yet again, is that as soon as I suspect I’m being wooed to build my camp on one side or the other of “an issue”, I withdraw to the bridge. That’s always been my way, being a strong disliker of taking sides, and so I won’t wave my membership of the wounded-club in the air to join any women’s circles; in fact, I would rather lose my card altogether than find myself swept along with the next wave of over-zealous herd behaviour. My independent-minded spirit declares “I’m out of here” before it’s too late and so I snap out of the trance of sad story-telling to bring myself back to the here and now, where those wounded stories are obsolete just as soon as I say they are. I won’t be taken in, and would never be drawn along by these mass victimhoods dressed up as rebellion in any of my other lifetimes either, so why should I start here…and that level of discernment, before handing over my power, is my true heritage from all those past lives, not all those male-inflected wounds I have no desire to keep nursing.

Whenever I tune into where the masculine is right now, the sense I get is of a gender that is absolutely weary, so confused as to its “role” and yet still heavily, often unfairly, burdened with far too many expectations. Added to all those traditional burdens are the new ones of being somehow expected to meet the “new woman”, in all her fierceness, without stepping on her toes or offending her; a terrifying task. Many women have become almost better than men at being “masculine” and this has been one of the most confusing aspects of all to most men, I suspect (well, it confuses the hell out of me since this corporate-minded he-she does not feel like what feminism is meant to be about to me). Just as women, to this day, struggle to shake-off outmoded discriminations around their sex, men too remain shackled to concepts of what they are here to be and do, how much they are meant to provide and achieve, to defend and live-up to. In my own household, my husband’s sense of burden, when it comes to supporting me and our children, has been like a massive boulder he carries strapped to his back compared to my far more intermittent load which, at those times I’ve not felt able to carry it, I’ve thrown down to the ground and declared “I’m taking a break”, expecting no arguments (and not getting them either). In fact, heaven help a man who argues with a woman who has reached the end of her tether. I’ve noticed how, when I make those radical shifts that I equate to my own evolution, I seem to do so with very little guilt; rather, with mild curiosity as to “what’s coming next”. Whereas he can’t even go there without losing sense of self or becoming the internalised voice of his father and grandfathers, berating and emasculating himself for being such a good-for-nothing and worse.

In his case, though he has worked solidly for over 30 years, he insists he is still looking at quite another few more before he anticipates being able to stop with “enough” to keep us going and that is as much to do with a deeply ingrained, cultural, sense of responsibility that he knows not now how to put down as it is to do with our raw circumstances. Akin to many men, he is deeply programmed to feel this is “his lot”, and this continues (and will always continue) while women remain the most obvious choice to rear the children, the  most encouraged when it comes to creative or more avant-garde career choices and the most likely to demand flexibility in their roles in order to meet  the ever-altering phases of our lives. It’s not, I suspect, that the roles need to be swapped over between genders but that the world needs to allow that men have these abilities, desires and needs too. In other words, we need to allow the men to become more feminine since there’s really no need to encourage women to be more masculine. This requires that we roll out feminine qualities to the mainstream, not entrench them around scary cults that make women seem like tigresses encamped in the woods. Have you ever been the only man to show up at a yin yoga retreat? My husband has, many times and it takes guts. Perhaps we should make it easier…

Its true, very few women are designed to follow a lifetime career in a single-track vocation…we simply change too much during the course of our lives; but do we allow men to even think like that or are they put onto a different train track to us, from birth; one which, typically, knows no end until it gets to retirement destination (or breakdown)? While our world remains so fixated on achievements and income bracket and possessions and 5+ day-long working weeks and retirement funds and…and…and…this will continue, since it is a world we created to accommodate the very gender stereotypes we say we are so done with. And while women show willing to work to this masculine version of reality, playing along with the male game and male rules, we will also feed its flame and ensure this old paradigm goes on and on. Most women seem to do this without questioning, settling for the male-devised paradigm, even incorporating its hierarchy and exclusivity structures into their own programs, rather than working towards an alternate reality where health and wellbeing, self-expression, creativity and connection with each other and nature, better work-life-balance, “time-out” and leisure pursuits, open-mindedness and inclusivity, family and friendship, room to explore, nurture and reward all our varied gifts, exchange, sharing and reciprocation as a basis for making life work over “earning money”…and so many more as-yet unexplored possibilities which forming even more tight little groups prevents us from exploring together.

see-sawMen, meanwhile, “soldier on”…or hit far more resistance when they make the kind of  drastic lifestyle changes that mark a key moment of personal evolution than women do. They remain far more strait-jacketed into what they have always done before; both by societal expectations and their own conditioned ones. There is so much set against them, so many impossible, outmoded expectations and, like us, they are caught in the net of all that went before, dragged along by all that unpleasant, grimy backwash of other times that should, by now, have passed under the bridge. Yes, they are burdened, care-worn and, additionally, in the line of new fire as so much age-old fury is released from the collective feminine wound; so how are they meant to deal with all that without going back on the defensive? They honestly need our loving support through this; and to be included in our collective evolutionary drive, not made to feel “less than” in some sort of spiritual gender play-off where feminine is always best because she is so wounded. The only way we can move on, collectively, is to get over all that rubbish as quickly as possible and lay ourselves down as the bridge that goes to meet the male aspect, in our every interaction, within our everyday lives, as loving partners and in the visualisation of a new world that collectively (not selectively) gets over itself and what we have all been through before. We need to make the goddess real, as part of everyday life…not into a wounded icon. We need to roll that feminine essence out; and men are part of that process…they have their own feminine aspect to bring back online, in fact they need all the help they can get.

This is what feels so important to me now…and its utterly achievable, starting from the micro dynamic within every family and through where we put our attention in our daily lives, to the focus of groups and other programs that we join, the projects and discussions to which we give our energy. Where there is action to be taken to bring about change, yes we take that and its great to see women standing up for themselves as I have; yet, having been through years of abuse, I feel no need to rake that up or wave it as a flag. As in any truly committed recovery process, the only way is to stop repeatedly licking those old wounds until they bleed again…and move on.

On this topic…

Surely the last thing we need is another religion….?

As I was writing this, I learned of a test case is going to employment tribunal in the UK  to decide if ethical veganism is a religion. It was brought to this point by an employee who believes he was unfairly sacked for his views. The status of “religion” could protect ethical vegans from such discrimination and so this case has garnered a great deal of interest from the media and, of course, vegans themselves.

As above, my viewpoint is that this is very dangerous ground. Whilst I see the point of ethical vegans (and I am one…) wanting protection in the workplace or any other circumstance where they are a minority, one of the deciding points that will make or break the case is whether veganism can be demonstrated to be a “belief” or an “opinion based on the present state of information available”. It needs to be demonstrated to be a belief…that is, un unwavering, fundamental, nonnegotiable “given” to the person in question. If decided to be so, it will, in essence, have been “legally decided” that this is the case for all ethical vegans. In other words, we will be regarded to hold a set of unwavering, fundamental, personal, religious beliefs…the same as someone who believes in Jesus or Allah or even Santa Claus…and not a set of highly credible and demonstrable facts that are relevant to all people on this planet.

Surely to label veganism “a religion” is to tip the tables over on all the hard work being done, by some incredible individuals, to demonstrate that veganism is indeed a very strong opinion based on the present state of information (we could call that “science”), all of which is pointing at how carnism is a major factor in global warming, deforestation and the ecological disaster-waiting-to-happen on this planet; not to mention a world-wide health crisis and the not-so-small matter of gross and culturally inconsistent cruelty towards billions of sentient beings. These are demonstrable facts and we need them in order to make a case for veganism; not for the entire vegan movement to be brushed into the “unwavering belief “corner along with all the many other religions that are, at once, so divisive and yet widely scorned. Yes, those of us who are ethically vegan hold a perspective that is non-negotiable and completely obvious to us and, as such, a world almost fully dedicated to carnism can be a deeply offensive and even traumatising place. Yet we are dealing with a practical reality at this tipping point; and we need to keep our own emotions in check sufficiently to work to the greater good of rolling vegan information out to the world, in a format that most people will listen to (back to science again…). If we hide our sensitivities under the label of religious belief, we risk losing our audience before we’ve properly begun.

At this point, we need to put divisiveness behind us, to work together as a planet, not find new ways to generate even more division by forming religious clubs that we all get to either join or take pot-shots at. A religion isn’t sexy, nor is it going to attract the brightest and most independent of a new generation of people open enough to think for themselves. It seems to me that this is a trap that so many vegans and feminists, etc., fall into; being so eager to form a sense of cohesive membership (wrongly equated with “power” and “protection”) around their group that they lose sight of the need to be inclusive of everyone. They forget that by keeping those edges softer, their doors wide open, they are far more likely  to encourage others  to step inside their circle, to sample their lifestyle choices and to join in with them, at whatever level they feel most comfortable with on the basis that a little bit more vegan or feminist than yesterday is no bad thing. If veganism isn’t made too hard-line or so entrenched, more and more people are likely to give it a try once a week or be more relaxed around other vegans who may influence them, but if it comes across as a full-blown religious practice, people will only be turned-off for fear of being scoffed at by association or because of that latent distaste most of us have around cultish behaviour. When people feel they are being presented with an ultimatum in order to join a particular club (such as having to follow a particular set of behaviour rules or even demonstrate certain emotional criteria, such as woundedness, in order to become a “member”) they are far more likely to walk away than to give these new perspectives a try.

The other major risk is that forming religions around beliefs is only ever going to provoke more and more backlash, which is not what we want at this point. Extreme opposers will come at these groups harder and more aggressively than ever (like the guy I just read about who turned up at a vegan festival and ate a huge chunk of raw meat to provoke the crowds) and, before we know it, we will be a planet fighting over another set of religious belief, all over again. While we have this insatiable urge to create religions out of what we personally hold to be true (which seems to be a pitfall of the human psyche; a sort of addiction to that incredible injection of new zeal and enthusiasm people get when they eventually connect with others who share the same beliefs…) we only trim our own wings, evolutionarily speaking, whilst repeating ourselves over and over and over again. Yet, whatever the outcome of this case, it feels as though the die has been cast since people are already dividing over both eventualities, and so it continues. This is all the result of a short-sighted, short-termist desire to “belong”  and “feel safe” over-and-above opening up a set of personal viewpoints to the collective discussion in order to gradually trickle these mindsets into the population at a pace that won’t alarm too many people given people always balk at change. Seems to me we have to get quite clear about whether we just want to feel more safe and self-righteous within our particular membership-only groups, which will only perpetuate the same kind of separation that has been the theme of the last few thousand years, or whether we really want to grow our ideas outwards and evolve together from this point. Do we want to really make this evolutionary leap happen like we say we do, by being instruments of change across the broader collective, or do we just allow ourselves to break apart into separate fragments again; and all for the brief thrill of feeling like we have been accepted into a particular tribe that offers the temporary illusion of belonging. Do we keep the conversation wide open and mix things up to stir all the flavours or do we reach for the convenient label that makes us feel a little bit safe until people target us even more for being different to the mainstream. Lets see.

Posted in Consciousness & evolution, Culture, Divine feminine, divine masculine, Health & wellbeing, Life choices, Menu, Personal Development, Spirituality, Vegetarianism | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

The moon and our key relationships

Earlier this year, I explored how moon phase, when you’re born, and the phenomenon known as “out of bounds moon” can affect your experience of being human; then this topic started to organically inform me of another thread of exploration. I was delving into a very personal topic around attachment and my relationship with my own mother as an infant and then later in my life, continuing after her death, since which she has continued to be so pivotally important to me and often in my thoughts. In short, I feel very close to my mother for all she is no longer there and yet, to start with, she was not the hands-on parent that I might have hoped for and there are ways this has impacted my health and my very “wiring” as a human being. For more on this, I refer you to my recent post Held on living whole in which I explore how attachment issues can have some very real, biological consequences that affect our core health and sensitivities for the whole of our lifetime…or, potentially for that long if we don’t notice how they came about and work with this at the deeper layers (and I’ll come back to that later).

One of the biggest health challenges, for me, is my hypersensitivity to everything, including that I am electrosensitive. I mentioned in that post how it was almost as though, in the absence of a very tactile parent, the kind that would cradle and rock me as an infant (mine was a wonderful parent but, combined with having three other children of an awkward age and a sickly husband to deal with, her lack of demonstration meant I have very few recollections of close physical contact with her…) it was as though I formed a close relationship with everything else in my sensory environment. Of course, there is nothing with more impact in that sensory zone than the moon, which speaks to our every cell in ways that we hardly think about but which impact all of our rhythms and those of the planet, the tides, the weather systems… I found myself almost laughing out loud as the concept came to me that the moon, which was out of bounds when I was born, must have appeared in my radar just a few days later as it became both closer and fuller…MUCH fuller, as it was a super moon that month…and I might very well have embraced it, with all my energetic sensors, and declared “Mummy, you’re here at last!” In fact, I was born in a run of three super full moons, one just before I was born, two just after (we begin our energetic relationships during gestation so I would certainly have felt that first super moon communicating with me from within the womb) but then the moon was out of bounds and a mere waxing crescent when I was born; so what a contrast, so much coming and going again. Yes, I laughed and then I stopped in my tracks as though a nugget of truth in this hit home to me. Let me try to explain.

Imagine, if you will, that when you are born there is a gathering of sorts; all the family members that are going to be meaningful to you are collected around the cradle. But there’s one absentee…a key player…who isn’t there and you are on the look out for her since you were told to expect her. Perhaps she had to pop out of the room for some reason but you know she’s not at your cribside, she’s misisng or perhaps she’s late. So, imagine how, when she finally arrives, though the room is full of other people, all your attention goes to her…you’re fixated, can’t take your eyes off her, ever watchful in case she leaves again. She instantly becomes the most important person in your world. Like the wayward couldn’t-care-less brother (I had one of those too) or prodigal son, we somehow love them more, celebrate them most vehemently when they return…and weep the deepest oceans when they leave us again. And even in their returning, there is always that deep knowing that they will inevitably go, over and over; like tides washing up on the beach…

That’s how I was with my mother…and its, in a sense, how I have always been with the moon.

Because, though we weren’t close to begin with, my mother and I became extraordinarily close in later years; before she “left”. In the years between, it was like she ebbed and flowed on a tide. When my siblings or father were around, there wasn’t a chance I could get near her; but when they dispersed, or I was unwell, I had all her attention. During my teen years, my father demanded her full attendance as he was retired and had a lot going on with his health (and had his own mother-issues to work out). It was after he died that I had the most extraordinary relationship with my mother; and then she suddenly got cancer and died. It was as though, the fuller she became, the more I seemed to expect that it would tear me apart when she left again. So there was both longing and dread in every coming and going; round and around in circles of fullness and depletion.

Was this the relationship, in prototype, that I have had since (and even had before) with the moon? Far fetched as that sounds, we all have some sort of prototype relationship “held” for us by the moon because we were all born during one of its phases; and the moon speaks to our every cell. The way our moon phase and, that rare thing, the out-of-bounds moon, impact our relationship with that moon….and determine traits about us that influence the whole of our life trajectory…is explored thoroughly in Stephen Forrest’s “Book of the Moon”, which is one of the most impactful things I have ever read. Of course, not everyone has an out of bounds moon; in fact they are pretty rare…but then the fact that you don’t have an out of bounds moon speaks equal voumes about your relationship with the moon (and with self and others); as does your phase of the moon (and all very much in the context of where the sun and other planets were at the time of your birth). They are like ingredients in a pot but, in my view, the moon is the one that can alter the flavour more than many others; at least when it comes to relationships.

So do all people born under an out of bounds moon have this strangely intense emotional response to abandonments of sorts, whenever they play out in life (like they are wired to half-expect them to occur, like a wound held in potential)? Perhaps this mostly happens when life itself mirrors this same inner-theme of what is so fulsome, obvious and bright in your life periodically leaving again, triggering an intensified reaction because it seems to confirm some worst fear. If this becomes a repeat occurence, who knows how the theme could take on weight; becoming a “thing”that starts to influence the psyche in ways that have long-lasting effect. Perhaps it can go the other way; to make the person fiercely independent, a loner at all costs. To be honest, I can relate to both of these responses, and yet they both have light and shadow sides which, in order to work with them, I have wanted to expose and to pick apart in myself…which getting to know “my” moon better has allowed me to do.

To convey all this in simpler terms, I feel I should explain more about what an out of bounds moon is. If you imagine the sun as a giant “torch beam” which points towards our planet; only our planet is on a tilt so where that direct beam lands varies according to the time of year, which is what creates the seasons. In other words the sun’s direct “torch beam” does not track the equator but goes just over 23° off-track, north and south of that mid line which is known as the ecliptic. The moon, however, circles the planet on its own wiggy path and there are times when it reaches maximum declination, that particular year, at just 18°; other years when it matches the sun’s 23° range and then other years still, on an 18.6 year cycle, when it goes outside of that 23° range by another 5°, to a total of just over 28° declination (measured off the ecliptic). Another way of saying this is that the moon sometimes goes “where the sun don’t shine”, in a manner of speaking. In other words, it goes out of the sun’s declination range, or “off-limits”, perhaps a little off our sensory radar as sentient beings, too…so that, on returning like the prodigal, its a case of, “surprise, I’m back”. If you are born under such an “absent” phase, this has to have an impact; and it does. The list of characters who, over history, were born under an out of bounds moon speaks for itself and makes very interesting, and insightful, reading; as though it explains quite a lot about their particular and quite exceptional traits. A great many creative types and forward thinkers, people who pushed the boundaries of science and art or who were mavericks and loners seem to come from amongst its number.

So, to take one very extreme example, Hitler was almost born under an out of bounds moon (he was just half a degree short) and this has been taken, by astrologers including Steven Forrest, to be of significance as “enough” to explain why he had certain out-of-control traits, as he clearly did. With my new theory, I would take that further to say that, in a sense, being born on the threshold of an out of bounds, or absentee, moon could be more impactful, in some cases, than having a moon that was fully out of bounds when you were born. Under the right (or should I say, wrong!) circumstances, where similar themes were playing out in your domestic life, having a mother-moon that was standing on the threshold of the doorway, threatening to abandon you at birth, could be extremely unsettling for the psyche of a young child and, even, an adult who has failed to address all their inner child issues. I had no idea what Hitler’s relationship with his mother was like so I just looked that up; he was clearly very attached to her and she died a long-painful death from cancer under his care when he was still a young man. The doctor apparently reported “He had never seen anyone so overcome with grief as Adolf Hitler at the loss of his mother” (source), which came at the time he was starting to formulate many of his ideas about poverty, politics and race; in fact he plunged into destitution and poverty himself right after she “abandoned” him. Do you see what I mean? How his psyche could have been set up for deep wounds that influenced the trajectory of the world by the placement of the moon at his birth is a very real consideration (though, of course, not an excuse).

In my case, my moon was very out-of-bounds and so, in a sense, this guaranteed a high degree of independence from “mother” which I did, in fact, dsiplay…putting this down to too many siblings and a mother who was preoccupied. Instead, I placed all my attention on father, my personal sun (he was born under a super full moon)…until all that changed, with a lot of hurt feelings. Perhaps my relationship with him imprinted me with some preconceptions about that relationship also (my sensitivity to the sun, which is also such an accurate mirror of my tendency to have very sudden burst of inspiration and my huge inner fire, is a long running theme in my health; perhaps, as with my father, we are too similar to always get on). It was much later that I returned to mother, but as friends, compatriots…not so much what you would classically expect of a mother-daughter relationship and yet it ran very deep. And, as above, the sense of abandonment wasn’t any less when, at the tender age of 28, I lost her to cancer and was left “all alone”. Yet this was the wake-up call of my spiritual journey; because, in a sense, I went off in search of mother and, having practiced with the moon all my life, there were no limits to how far I would travel to find her “out there”. Caught up in grief, I stepped out of my more-material preoccupations to plunge into the realms of what couldn’t be seen, could only be felt, in order to try and find her “out there”. So began the adventures that led to me discovering my spiritual self; in ways so extraordinary that I now regard my mother’s death as “by design” so I could (and would) dare to go wherever my journey happened to lead me, which was very far. This, in a sense, is what relationship with an out of bounds moon can do (and has clearly done for so many creatives and genius over the whole of history); it offers you this “nothing out of bounds or off-limits” view of, well, everything since this planet’s narrow perspective of what is in and out of range no longer applies. You can go literally anywhere in your explorations!

And if this all sounds completely mad then perhaps that’s appropriate since those who engage in open relationships with the moon have long been considered so; but then, that’s really all of us, whether we admit to it or no. Do you have liquid in your veins and water in all your cells? Then you are in relationship with the moon, like it or not; but it’s how much you notice and allow yourself to feel it that makes all the difference, the same as anything else. In my case, I feel the moon very much; oh how I feel it and its rhythms, the build up to fullness which can be so impactful on my sensations that I can’t wait for it to “leave” again and then the not so slow demise which can feel wrenching…and yet, somewhere just the other side of that dark moon, I find my place. Like fecund earth, full of sensory potential, this dark waxing moon is where I find myself, cycle after moon cycle; and, like the moon, I am always ready to begin again….never tiring of the repeat. These are things the moon taught me and made me acutely aware of, in that babyhood phase of “speaking” to one another across the long nights in the language of electricity, when my senses reached out across the dark spaces to feel the moon’s embrace; my surrogate mother or the true one? A bit of both is how it feels to me, for the moon is indeed, in many ways, the mother energy embodied and held for us all there, deny her as we might.

This is such an ancient and “given” idea that to divert into the “moon as mother” topic feels unnecessary so, instead, I will touch upon its very opposite; how I felt the day it was suggested to me by Anni Sennov, in her book “Golden Age, Golden Earth”, that the moon was now out-moded on this planet, the symbol of capricious, childlike, whimsical energy, or a desire to lead a solitary life and of “soul”, thus no longer  valid or in vogue, post our current stage of evolution into the crystal energies. She likes to divide people as either sun or moon people and is obviously quite disparaging of the latter, believing them to be of a type that are no longer supported on this planet. In fact she goes as far as to say the moon became permananetly attached to another solar system after the arrival of the indigo energies from the mid ’80s and that it “no longer belongs here”; those connected to it being in the process of either migrating to another place or struggling to continue living here as demonstrated by a range of physical ailments and even death. She goes on:

“in 2014 as I write this book, the connection between the Moon and all life on Earth has finally been shut down, so there is no longer any consciousness support or possible upgrades to download on the soul level for anyone on Planet Earth. The only way to get an experience of the Moon in the future is to look in the sky at night, or by physically travelling there.”

Although I enjoyed her work on AuraTransformation, which I have explored for myself, I was so indignant to read this, the first time, that I almost threw the book out with a snort or derision at that point; which, I suppose, told me much more about my relationship with moon than I had previously realised. In fact, it led almost directly to me discovering Steven Forrest’s book, which feels so “by design” on my evolutionary path.

tumblr_lnorvsnEQI1qewp3lo1_500Yet…all these many months later, I kind-of see what she means at the level where it’s all to do with developing the kind of self-sufficiency that the crystal energies necessarily encompass. Part of this is to own what is yours and reattach it to your own energy field, not leaving it “out there” and separate; dangling, as it were, in the night sky doing to you whatever it chooses and us just the little children doing its bidding or bowing our consent. That includes reincporating all that the moon “is” to us, including this feminine aspect, which should be integrated as part of us, not left just hanging in the sky as some sort of pretty yet completely abstract bauble, with little or no practical application. We need to bring these things home to ourselves, and to make them real, as us and in our practical and fully manifest existence…not just left “out there”. This includes all of the “incredible” personal qualities that we see in other people, never daring to believe that the reason we are so attracted to them is that we are seeing aspects of ourselves, mirrored back so we can own them!

There has been such a stepping up process for me, at so many levels, this year, and part of that has been to do with this mother-daughter relationship (including mine with my own daughter, which has evolved hugely)…in fact, all relationships. Hard to summarise but its all to do with my personal wellbeing no longer being subjectified by my relationship with “other”; I don’t alter because of whom I am with. At last, I have learned how to remain steady in my own sense of wholeness, in spite of the comings and goings of all those other meaningful beings in my world, and I’ve also felt for myself just how intrinsic this is to the next stage of my evolution. I have also discovered that I want to sift out traces of co-dependency with, and subservience to, “other” wherever I have found it; which has been a new development for me, having previously allowed myself to land on such entanglements like they were a feather bed made for my own comfort and safety. This year, I have started to notice how they are really the pea under the mattress; that unspecified “thing” that makes me toss and turn with some unnamed discomfort even when I should be feeling wonderful with my arrangements, or so I used to tell myself. So I have worked to identify where these knots hide themselves and to actively shine light so they can disperse or recalibrate as part of my inner relationship…that all-important one that I have with myself (which is, likely, what they were acting as the poor substitute for anyway). Not to say I have found reason to dissolve many relationships but I have made them stronger than ever where I have ironed out the sense of me waiting for these beings to “arrive” and then fearing they might “leave” again, determining whether I am able to  be happy, or not….allowing, instead, that I can appreciate both the comings and goings in equal part and still be, resoundingly, who I am all the same. No longer looking for fragmented parts of myself “out there”, I have realised that the strong points of my relationships tell me more about myself than I previously knew and so I reattach them to my sense of who I am, allowing them to fuel that all important self-love and appreciation (just as I notice any weaker points more than I once did, in order to heal what feels wounded or lacking on the inside). Like in my relationship with my own mother, I find that I have now become all the best parts of whatever me and another explored together; yes, having travelled so far to find her, she too is internalised as part of me, dwelling permanently inside my heart. I feel more whole these days than I ever have – you could almost say “more full”.

There have been so many layers to this new understanding of the moon as a relationship place-marker that I don’t want to dive any deeper in this post, for fear of muddying the waters rather than shining a clear light on the surface. Rather, I would prefer to throw this out there as is, perhaps as food for thought, something that will help stir something insightful up to the surface of your own relationship pool if you take that moonlight plunge yourself. Should you want to dive deeper into the moon phases and especially the out of bound aspect, I do heartily recommend Steven Forrest’s book, which continues to inspire my own inspiration on this vast, juicy topic.

Related posts:

Held

Getting my own attention

Out of bounds

Phases of the moon

 

 

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Splitting…or coming together anew

Its been a powerful weekend of shifting energies, in my experience, as is often the case for me when I’m away from home…as though just the change in location and routine jangles up enough space for those more-expansive themes that I am already working with (within the scaffolding of “ordinary life”) to fall into new and far more dynamic placements with each other.

I’m going to share, almost verbatim, a couple of things I felt called to talk about on social media while I was away. One is an observation about the Schumann Resonance, which I’ve written about before in this and my other blog space. I’ve been feeling it being “active” for a few weeks now, via physical sensations in my body, and this came to a head  last week but I hadn’t been keeping tabs on what others were saying about it until I saw a couple of posts in my feed on saturday. For me, these symptoms include an extraordinarily high pitched sound that I now hear constantly yet, whilst this may sound horrific (and I see how I could easily let it be), I correlate it with times of personal robustness and evolution, not to mention huge waves of new insight. I have this tendency to “go solo” when these kinds of symptoms arise for me as there are very few people with whom you can talk about such observations, without them thinking you are completely “cuckoo”, so it was as though, through being away from home, I was more awake to objectively hear what other people were saying about this peak. In the space of a few minutes, I caught sight of two references to a sudden spike in the Schumman Resonance, throughout November and especially on November 25th, so my interest was piqued; it wasnt just me noticing this, then!

For anyone who doesn’t know, 7.83 Hz (which happens to be the frequency of OM) is the  Earth’s natural heartbeat rhythm. The frequencies of Schumann resonances are fairly stable and are mainly defined by the physical size of the ionospheric cavity. The amplitude of Schumann resonances does change and is bigger when ionospheric plasma gets excited  because of solar activity, thunderstorms and other interferences that can only be speculated about.

“The similarity of the 7.8-hertz Earth resonance and human brainwave rhythms was quickly identified after the Schumann resonances were first measured, and early studies were able to demonstrate a correlation between these resonances and brain rhythms. Numerous studies conducted by the Halberg Chronobiology Center at the University of Minnesota along with other studies have since shown that there are important links between solar, Schumann and geomagnetic field line resonances and a wide range of human and animal health and wellness indicators. (HearthMath Institute.)

umf

Current levels have leapt from the “usual” 7.83 Hz up to as high as 40, 60 and even 80 Hz. (Note: Gamma waves occur at 30 – 100 Hz; these are associated with waking states and can occur when we are simultaneously processing information in both brain hemispheres. Whales and dolphins also operate in these frequencies). Then I found this post from writer and consciousness teacher/facilitator Jalelle Awen on Facebook, about the current peak, and symptoms this may be generating in the physical body, and was able to agree with every word of what she described.

I’m personally getting off the scale new head tones this last 3 or 4 weeks and, this most recent this week, they have built to a whole new intensity that feels less localised to one side of my head but is filling my WHOLE head, intensely, all the time, day and night. At times like these, I have to remind my human aspect to hold on and just trust all is absolutely well, it’s a reboot/upgrade in progress. Emotions are in full glow yet astonishingly quick to pass through, like weather clouds…such rapid clearing work taking place while everything is being upgraded, including that I’m watching fusty old stuck points get a complete makeover to become powerful evolution opportunities.

The co-creative aspects I’ve been involved in with some other ready souls have been astonishing this last couple of days, like a well choreographed dance. All this while being in considerable brain fog (to keep the logical brain out of the rapidly developing picture) and such impairment of the base senses, especially vision via the eyes (to encourage fall-back on second sight), in fact it’s felt like being in a physically challenging dream world a lot of the time yet so much going on at the deeper layers.

If you’re hypersensitive to these energies, you might relate. To me, it feels like this has been Gaia’s answering call to the intense sine waves ‘of exceptional purity’ heard ringing out across earths magnetic field last week (see article https://spaceweatherarchive.com/…/quiet-sun-makes-musical-…/)

The other gathering of thoughts that came to a sort of focus point for me over the weekend was garnered into action, in the sense of writing about it for the first time, by a post I saw from Aluna Joy Yakin, a sacred site expert and awakening consciousness guide whose posts I respect very much. She shared a post entitled The Great Splitting and End of Judgments, Thanksgiving and full moon eve 11-21-2018 on Facebook. In it, she discusses “…A strange need for a disconnect from our current world, and the observation of a challenging 50/50 split of humanity” (out of respect for her material, and to  better understand what she and I are both talking about here, please follow this link to Aluna’s Facebook post to read the full article). As often is the case, I found myself relating to every word she shared.

Personally, I’ve been in such resistance to the idea of split for such a long time yet am seeing signs of it everywhere…part of me even longs for it, for my own comfort and focus, as much of this world and its attitudes feel so out of synch with what I feel. For me, this isn’t a final conclusion (there’s no such thing), it’s all work in progress as it’s the constant spiralling between dichotomy and wholeness that fuels our evolutionary momentum but…something new is also happening here. And I’m so weary of working just so hard to bridge gaps that don’t want to be brought closer together, at every level of my experience and activity, so maybe there’s nectar in releasing that longing for a while, to allow what doesn’t feel good to be, very simply, let go of. Working tirelessly to find commonalities is just so draining of energy…and it’s amazing how letting go of the need to do this (the very fact I had been making it into an imperative or mission tells me such a lot…) frees up and expands opportunities straight away as it allows you to unapologetically focus on what you DO want, in an unlimited way (brand new stuff!), not on what needs upgrading and repairing. Imagine if all of us who are feeling this split but resisting it because we feel it is “bad” to “separate” suddenly allowing ourselves to explore this…and, instead, putting all our energy into our new world (where and how we want to live), not repairing what’s broken about the current world (where, and how, so many others still seem to want to live). It is like a giant energetic sigh of relief as soon as you even go there; even when it may involve making some very hard choices, initially, in order to follow through. I experienced that one too, over my weekend and know I am far from the only one (perhaps it was the Schumann peak but there seemed to be a lot of it in the air…).

Maybe it’s not even a case that we are about to separate “more” but that, in accepting some sort of separating of the ways as a given, we become more whole…or do that “work” in ways that don’t involve our minds so much as our heart frequency, which peaks higher, and by making our heart coherence more consistent (this is not about always staying the same; its about dealing robustly with all the variables) when we are following our own personal bliss. This would be reminiscent of how the brain split onto two distinctly functioning halves…which, we now know, make their very best music together when they work separately yet in beautiful cohesion, for all their contrast. In which case, we need to stop “trying” so hard to get into the full flow of where we, personally, choose to be since that kind of  coherence “just happens” when we let go of trying…and stop resisting what we don’t “like”. Perhaps those already working on our heart coherence are already impacting the field in some other biologically impactful ways, achieving gamma waves that flow out to the field, to impact the whole of humanity via these new frequencies being measured within the ionosphere. So maybe we just need to get out of our own way and let Gaia sort out her own wholeness at levels where we all take part…but don’t have to “work” at “doing” anything except maintaining our own heart coherence, following whatever path that heart cue leads us towards (rather than going “against” anything or hanging around in what we don’t like to “fix it”). And if there’s no doubt that the Schumann Resonance is affecting us all at the biological level, maybe those of us who already are doing that are the ones generating these very high peaks which, at some level, convey information to us all and will roll out their biological messages in all good time…

Dr. Michael Persinger, a well-known neuroscientist, has conducted numerous studies examining the effects of magnetic fields with the same magnitude as the geomagnetic field on brain functions and information transfer. Not only has he shown that applying external fields similar to the Schuman resonances can induce altered states of consciousness, he also has suggested in a detailed theory that the space occupied by the geomagnetic field can store information related to brain activity and that this information can be accessed by all human brains.

Furthermore, Persinger also suggests that the earth’s magnetic field can act as a carrier of information between individuals and that information, rather than the intensity of the signal carrying it, is important for interaction with neural networks. The above findings help support part of GCI’s hypothesis that the earth’s magnetic field is a carrier of biologically relevant information. (HeartMath Instititute).

All I know, for myself, is that I’ve never been in a more determined and focused phase of simply dropping whatever, and whomever, doesn’t feel good to me, rather than going back “in” to the burning building, time and time again, in an effort to bring everything/one with me to where I want to be headed. Though I know I’ve reached this concludion many times before, this felt like a whole other layer of realising that this is not a rescue mission that I am on…which crystallised for me, on a very personal level, at the weekend over the timescale of that Schumann peak. I’m here to find my own way, not carry or cajole others. Where it feels light, joyfilled…connect; where it doesn’t, step away. There doesn’t have to be anything more structured or formal than that, in many cases; we just stop labouring over it.

As above, there are no conclusions…just sharing these two weekend threads to help fuel your own processing of what are sometimes spiritually controversial topics.


Related?

On Nov 18th, in spite of quiet solar conditions, a very stable ~15 second magnetic oscillation commenced and persisted for several hours in the earth’s. As the solar wind hit Earth it produced “a pure, almost-musical sine wave”, as recorded by Rob Stammes in Norway. The waves Stammes recorded are “essentially flutters propagating down the flanks of Earth’s magnetosphere excited by the breath of the sun” which are categorised according to length (these were in the category 15 – 45 seconds). Researchers call them “pulsations continuous” — or “Pc” for short and this was a Pc3. Stammes, who has recorded many Pc waves in the past, said of this occurrence “this is the first time I have detected category Pc3. This was a very rare episode indeed.” Source: Quiet Sun Makes “Musical Waves” in Earth’s Magnetic Field, Spaceweather.com

On 11/11 this year, a strange phenomenon set seismologists around the world off on a head-scratching conundrum that remains unsolved. Source: Strange waves rippled around the world, and nobody knows why, National Geographic, also An unexplained seismic event ‘rang’ across the Earth in November, Big Think.

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Quantum art

Its been an undisputed “knowing” to me, for the longest time, that art works at the quantum level. In fact it always astonishes me how few artists seem to  “know” or accept this about their creations;  indeed, how few people, in general, own this about anything they create – and we are all creators of experience. When I create a painting, which is about as deep and intimate a relationship with a physical object as you can have given what lengths of time, and how many layers,  get to be incorporated into it by the time it is completed, it is quite obvious to me how much of myself has gone into it. By the end of such a sustained birthing process, a painting starts to hold aspects of my energy that remain with it…if I so choose…long afterwards. The point is (as with anything else) to make this intentional, not accidental…

I suppose an analogy could be with a piece of furniture that a master wood turner has produced, or a carving from a piece of marble; we feel that about those objects, as though they hold some residue of the creator, which is part of what makes them desirable. How so much more so in the case of oil paint, which is at first fluid, slick then, even as it gains more substance, open to be sculpted and manipulated, even (in my later works) sanded back to where bits of one layer of pigment are virtually ground into another like the effects of centuries over human history…so, no clear line to distinguish what is of one layer or inherited from another. And yet, by the end (though over longer time than the surface suggests since it can remain malleable under that surface for quite some time…) the oil is “baked” to a hardness that is resilient and stubborn, even prone to cracking like an old layer of strata on the earth. These layers of me  that it contains are the layers of intentionality and consciousness that passed through me as “fluid”, even as I worked on the piece…and, when I first began to paint, I admit I did use my canvases to review and to reconcile parts of myself as I was working on them (which was their magic, as art healed me far quicker than any other process I had previously known). And yet I knew, early on, that to make of the canvas the wholeness that I sought so eagerly of my experience of life, I did better to keep in my higher places, to seek reconciliation far over and above any kind of recompense or retaliation and so, to achieve “light” in art, I headed for the light in myself. There was no thrash music or gnashing of teeth for me as I painted; I healed and healed through my process of many years of meditative painting practice..and so people began to comment that they also felt healed, somehow, when they looked upon my output and this became a “thing” about my art that was recognised as one of its qualities.

Yet all energy is a two-way street; and this is something to be respected, acknowledged, not taken for granted. It played out that, over many exchanges of energy that are the sale of artworks, I came to feel into how where and to whom an artwork “went” would someone impact me. In fact, to this day, I carry within me a very strong sense of where they all flew to, which is now to places around the whole globe. If that sounds bizarre, there have been times when I’ve later sensed that one of them shifted and lo, I would find out that the person who has it had moved from one place to another. In the beginning (as this second-sense about my artworks began to emerge) I became quite precious about wanting to control who they went to, like I was rehoming my own children; which made dealing with galleries an awkwardness that had me prickling with discomfort. I would want to hear stories and details from them (that they often weren’t able to provide…) about how the purchaser had responded when they saw it; how many times had they come in to consider it, were they the over-joyed recipient or simply “buying” a get-out-of-jail christmas gift for their least favourite aunt? In the end, I had to do the inner work to know that all things…even those I can’t contol…have a habit of being just perfect in their own way, though I had no part in directly orchestrating them. In fact, again, stories started to come back to me about perfections that occurred that could have taken no human planning yet they fell into place perfectly without my say so.

So by the end of several years, there were just so many anecdotes of the perfect “homing” of my artworks at “just the right time” to “precisely the right person” that I wouldn’t even know where to start recounting them. One of my favourites, to this day is that, on one occasion, there was a painting that went to “the wrong person” yet it was quickly reconciled. The very moment it happened, I somehow knew from my gut that this was the case and, within half a day, I found this out for sure as I contacted the gallery it had just been delivered to, in order to reclaim it for my other purchaser. The gallery owner almost burst into tears when she heard the news as she had unwrapped it the night before and fallen in love with it on first sight, resolving over-night to buy it for herself (something she seldom did, for all she ran a gallery full of endless temptations). However, I had already made my bargain with the other person, who had by then paid me, so I picked it up and delivered it…only to find that its purchaser, who had been so delighted about this in the beginning, started to feel “off” about her new acquisition as it hung on her wall. So the next time she saw me, she confessed this…which prompted me to tell her about the woman from the gallery…and so she asked if there was any chance she could do a swop for another painting. Now this next part of the story was rare as I seldom paint artworks in twos but, as luck would have it, I had just completed another on a similar theme but with a somewhat different style and she loved it far more than the original. Meanwhile I was able to deliver the first painting to the owner of the gallery, who literally wept for joy at getting it back…and she has told me, many times since over the years, just how much joy it still brings her and all the ways it has helped her through some tough times. Somehow, the crossed wires of those early stages in this transaction taught me more than ever about the quantum relationships we have with art; because what these two people experienced between them, though they never met, was quantum for sure…and so they elected to resolve the difficulty they both felt between them, though they could have shrugged and made do with their situation, as many less sensitive people would.

Because it is certainly”quantum”, this very magical way that art works with all those involved, from the artist to the reseller to the next (or subsequent) “owner” to the places where it travels and all the people who come into contact with it, even in a book centuries later. We feel it when we see cave paintings. We don’t even have to be able to relate with our minds to the person who created the artwork; since this is way way beyond the intellect. Mine now feel like energy anchors dropped into  global locations, like the hooking-points of a vast web that I imagine sparkling with positive energy and it fascinates me, without interfering with it, to watch how those patterns take shape.

Many times, as described in a recent post, I have felt very deeply how “the right artwork goes to the right person” at just the right time. I have heard countless stories of “healing” come out of this; taken to mean just the right inspiration or nudge or note of optimism or whatever it is that person needs right then coming out of the artwork to deliver a quantum message that shifts them onwards in some significant way. These stories are too numerous and personal to recount here but I always relish hearing about them, which is one very major reason why I pulled away from selling art through galleries as I lost this feeling of contact with the people to whom they went.

Only once did I feel a distinct discomfiture with a person who came forward to claim a work of art. I knew too little about them to know (logically) why I felt these disturbances in my gut but they were most certainly there. As luck would have it, they were in search of a particular theme of artwork and suggested several that I had, all of which were, for one reason or another, not available or in right budget to be in the running. So, though I hardly noticed how I did this at the time, I created a new artwork just for them, with just the ingredients they were calling for and yet…I only spotted this much later…I never felt comfortable about this artwork myself; didn’t want it on my website or even to, really, think about it again…like I had to close down my own energetic connection with it. Hopefully they got what they felt they needed from it but I wanted no open doors or two-way street of energetic transference left between us; and that was fine. We could all do with learning how important and available this is, as a choice, in all aspects of our life.

Because to leave an energy portal open is like leaving your back door flung out on its hinges and never knowing who might come in to try and make claims on your inner sanctum. As I’ve said, there can be a marvellous alchemy that takes place between artist and those who feel their art enough to partner with it (since to appreciate art is a partnership of sorts…) but to do this indiscriminately with anyone who demands it is the same as giving away parts of yourself to anyone who should choose to grab. In fact, when the true alchemy takes place, it’s not the case of “taking” but of “collaborating” to the highest good of all parties; and we can always feel when any kind of transaction is based on less than this, from the reactions in our bodies that send us all sorts of misgivings, from the mental to the physical.

Even when that partnership feels as though it is on highest basis, its important to make sure that it is the healing energy of the artwork, which is an intentional thing that you set out to create as its highest purpose, and not aspects of (your)Self that are being claimed in this relationship…since the Self is sacred and should not be up for grabs. Imagine if everyone who owned one of your creations was sapping your energy at some level, grabbing pieces of you to feel better, just helping themselves whenever they believe themselves (having not done their own energy housework) to be in lack thus plugging their perceived gaps with bits of YOU. This could lead to an extremely depleted artist or creator of any kind (and don’t we see that sometimes…people who started out with such high intentions and so much light and yet who are now wrung out and so jaded that it is as though they have been ravaged by life; though its is really that too many people helped themselves to their energy which, at some level, they allowed to happen). It’s essential to set those boundaries…and to do the regular work (through visualisation) to claim back our own energy from wherever this may have been distributed or taken to by other people or attached to our far-flung projects, making sure to also cleanse that energy through a purification filter before reattaching it back to our own field. In this way, we get to take part in the upkeep of our aura; which is the energetic body within which our physical body exists…yes, invisible to most and yet just so very important to our entire state of wellbeing.

And onwards, these energetic connections, where they are pristine and high-intentional, can feel like telephone lines between people; perhaps not used all the time but there when most needed. I often wondered if reproductions of artwork worked the same as originals; after all (logically) how could they when the orignal has all these layers that took time and error and reconciliation to create compared to a repro, which is just a facsimile churned out of a printer in ten seconds flat? And what would be all the repercussions of having energetic relationships with everyone who owns one of my prints, which are available through more print-on-demand resellers than I know about? If so, I would need to do some intentional work about this too; set boundaries, yes, but also make sure that I loaded all of those prints with my highest intentions for healing and positive outcomes, as I do with my originals.

Yet…if I needed to resolve this question once and for all…the answer came to me just the other day. As mentioned in my recent post, I sold a painting to energy intuitive Lee Harris five years ago now and had ordered a repro of this same painting to keep for myself. This reproduction, which was identical to the eyes to the original in every respect, had hung in my bathroom for years but at an angle where I seldom looked at it as this would involve standing in the shower with the curtain not there (not the greatest portion of wall on which to hang anything…though, I concede, I have some of my greatest inspirations in that shower).

The redecoration of my bathroom this year led to me deciding to relocate the reproduction; I thought, most probably, my yoga room would be a good place but I had yet to get as far as putting the hook in the wall. So the picture stood on the floor, at yoga mat height, and I began to find myself looking deeply into it as I lay on my side in the mornings. One day, I did this at some length…really appreciaing what another person might experience from looking into it (something I often forget to do with my own artworks) and, of course, thinking about Lee…who, I had assumed, would have forgotten all about me by now and probably even my painting.

But no, within a matter of days, maybe just under a week, Lee made contact with me out of the blue to say he had been thinking about me, wondering how I was doing and had gone to my FB page to take a look at my recent artworks. He said mine was still on his wall, that he still loves it…and, in return, I received the very confidence boost to keep painting that I was in desperate need of (as shared in that previous post). A month or less after that, Lee’s house was under threat from the fires that have tiraded across California and I was able to use the linkage I now feel more strongly than ever to send as much healing energy and positivity across its quantum portal in his direction and for anyone else in that locale. It felt significant and not a little bit profound to me to have my painting there in the midst of such upheaval, offering all I know about holding a steadier space, something that would have been impossible if I had not, in the first place, put my art out into the world; a realisation that motivates me as an artist. Its seems, the reciprocation airways that were opened up when he and I first exchanged over the purchase of that painting were still there, realised in perfect timing!

This is no magical power, no unique gift that I have; its something that is there for all of us, everyday…whether “artist” or no since it underpins all of our creations, whether a “thing” or even a phrase we construct before saying it out loud to another, or an intention we have that we set as a thought…energy is everywhere; art just helps us to make it more manifest. When this kind of “magic” happens around art we tend to shrug or make it sound trivial, like its part-and-parcel of the “expected weirdness” we allow around art yet we deny it in most other aspects of life. Yet owning up to this quantum layer of interaction is to become more powerful, by far, in our interactions; not to mention more intentional, more necessarily mindful in order to steer which way we direct what we manifest (we all have a vested interest in that). When we own up to this layer of experience, we also notice how we give our energy away or leak it like a sieve, how we end up feeling just so tired and depleted without knowing why (and so we can start to do the energetic repair work to remedy this)…so many areas of life we can work on through intention and thus use to create a better experience, both for ourselves and all others with whom we engage. Some of the people who purchase my art and who experience these bizarre, inexplicable positives that come out of it become new believers in the uncanny layers of life; allowing chinks of light into their otherwise logical, left-brain dominated experiences that previously demanded explanations you can touch. Well, you can touch this or, rather, these experience can touch your life in some undeniably profound ways…if you let them.. which is the best reason to continue creating art that I know; it touches people’s lives in some powerfully positive, if not always quantifiable, ways that defy linearity, time, distance or the need for well-orchestrated logistics. As, primarily, a worker in the medium of light, I could ask for no more!

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A woman’s voice across time

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Sunset Over Frosted Field – oil on canvas, Helen White 2010

It was during an exercise of getting over 12 years worth of my paintings out of storage and reappraising them for a “sale” this week, as shared in my last post, that I noticed something in common about many of my landscape subjects. I was mentally rehearsing what I wanted to say to a friend who was considering purchasing a particular painting off me, about the place that it was of, which is the woodland tucked around the common beyond my house. I knew she would be receptive to this, being someone who has a very innate and powerful sense of connection with “place”, and I wanted her to feel some of what I felt when I painted that view…and why I have hung onto it as a favourite ever since.

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Towards Grazeley – oil on canvas, Helen White 2012

The piece from over a decade ago is called “Sunset over frosted field” and it aimed to immortalise the magenta-into-inky-blue palette of a late afternoon walk (probably at this time of year) in a piece of the deep thicket bordering what used to be the village common here. And it was as I mentally described the piece, and its personal significance, to her that a truism struck me and it was this.

Over the past dozen years, an astonishing number of the artworks I’ve produced have been of the square mile or less in close proximity to my house; a corner of countryside that I often describe myself as feeling quite ambivalent about, compared to other places that I could go seeking out a more astonishing view. Ambivalent not because I don’t appreciate it or care or see its bursts of astonishing beauty but in the way of someone that has hardened them self off “against” something they know is already “lost”; whose “days are already numbered”.

You see, this corner of Berkshire in England is already “under sentence”, its “time has been called”, its brown fields mentally marked out, sold off, put to work in the name of “progress” and “growth”. Under the umbrella of that thing they refer to as “the desperate housing crisis”, new housing estates and associated road infrastructure are being built so fast around here that we seem to spin from one set of traffic-mayhem-causing temporary traffic lights to another as new cables go in and yet more brown dust hits our washing lines. It’s a relentless process that feels like watching someone being ravaged over and over again, wondering when she will either fight back like a dervish or sigh her last breath. As more and more people whose faces speak no connection whatsoever with this corridor of dormitory housing move in to become neighbours of sorts, I know the only way I have coped is to have hardened my heart against this place and speak, endlessly, of moving on.

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Sunset on Snow – oil on canvas, Helen White 2010

In fact, we’ve been “leaving” this place since almost the moment we arrived; once the brief honeymoon period of kidding myself I was now living in a “rural location” had worn off to the harsh reality of ever-increasing traffic noise. In fact, talking about leaving has been my dinner-table opener for so many years that it’s almost funny. “Where we plan to move to” comes much higher up our topics than “how much we relish our lives” here (which, though we do relish life, doesn’t seem to have been related in our minds to this place at all). In fact, the tinder-wood dry humour that has grown out of all the things we don’t like about it has become our second dinner-table act, like a sardonic double comedy act we wheel out on for our guests.

When friends from afar, who travel the world by Airbnbs or hang out with spiritual communities in Costa Rica or New Mexico, announce they are coming to these shores, I find myself scuttling hither and thither finding desperately concocted excuses not to have them here (“we’re having work done…”), suggesting meet-up places, rather than have them disillusioned by “the view”. After all, from my artworks, they probably imagine I live in some English idyl, not a traffic-congested tour of housing development showrooms punctuated by garish new convenience stores (how much “convenience” does one village need…?), one of which appeared opposite, just a couple of years ago, like the big ugly sister of the little cottage-cum-post office with its hanging baskets of flowers  and picket fence that stood there beforehand. In fact, for all our interior is eclectically welcoming and as beautiful as can be, and though I love to play host, I shudder to imagine hosting people here in case they might equate it with the inside of me and find myself postponing such events, in my daydreams, to some other setting five years hence, which is like living what should be your present life at arm’s reach, not quite touched by the fingers. Yes, I know this has all felt so compromised and off-balance for such a long time and yet…there it was, this morning…the molten heart and the hidden treasure of having out-stayed my welcome for so long. This place had been my inspiration after all. Born of such contrast, its moments of beauty had served as my muse more consistently than any more-idyllic setting might ever have done.

Because in spite of all the resistance and ambivalence I had been feeling and some pretty hard years living here in the first little while after I arrived, sixteen years ago, when I was impoverished and working all hours to keep this very roof over my head (and that was just before my health took a dive…), I see how I have been having this whole other relationship with the remnants of woodland and common that my house is, effectively built on, though what’s left of it is almost out of sight across the roof tops. In fact, the harder it has been to see, the more some part of me has been quite determined to see it…and to speak it out, in ways that would capture the feeling. These are places which, if I force my gaze between houses and the industrial unit to the rear, I can almost see from my bedroom window as the setting sun turns the sky molten behind a Giant Redwood brought here by some wealthy Victorian seeking to impress. In fact, is it coincidence but, the view of that tree seems to have got clearer this year as neighbours’ trees have been cut back to allow me a tunnel of improved view towards a pocket of the ancient common. Or, for one month a year, I get to see the rising sun over fields between two closely-packed buildings to the front; as it casts its shaft of light down my usually dark corridor towards my yoga mat so precisely, like any light shaft might between henges in an ancient field. I count these blessings…oh how I notice and count them though I long for more.

Then I know, if I’m honest, that I feel this place’s soil speaking to me even as I sleep, like a growl sometimes, felt through the root chakra. We had some energetic surveys done, twice – once by a consultant looking at geopathic stress lines, once by a psychic – and what they reported felt so consistent with what I sensed the earth beneath my feet had been trying to say to me, had been channelling through me, all these years, about unhappy waterlines that had become cut-off and congested by all the concrete of a modern-day town scape (and, oh, how I have worked with these flow lines…to release both them, and me).

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Looking Back, Helen White 2018

I know if I’m honest, for how else could I keep painting it, that I feel this place profoundly, am aware of its subtle rhythms, notice it’s rising and setting suns seen from east and west upstairs windows and how these stir the very strata. I benefit from its great variety of birds, which converge on my feeders, the bats that dive-bomb my garden, the “woo woo” of the owl on summer’s nights. I’m tuned in to this place, in far more ways than I had admitted or could fully express, and all through the heart if not always the head…which is why I haven’t left so far, since I clearly had unfinished business and my artworks have been the clue all along. Less artworks of this place by far, I admit, in recent years as I have become more persistently outward looking yet, earlier this year, I spent hours creating the aptly titled piece Looking Back which is a poignant take on the rapidly shrinking view from the hill behind my house…and the deer that, until just a year ago, used to converge there. In fact, it was one of my routines to walk that hill just before dusk to meet up with over a dozen deer that would appear out of nowhere to spend the last daylight on its slopes but…since the nearby housing construction site got underway in earnest, ploughing up fields that had been their uninterrupted route from Berkshire to Hampshire…I have seen but one deer up there and that was months ago. This artwork’s title speaks, I now realise, for this place, for its wildlife,  for its loss…but also for an era at an end, and for the whole world; its longer title “Looking back at what we had…”. I know it also speaks for me; like the the long-lingering look backwards that you would give before turning on your heel, saying farewell to something with which you have become surprisingly intimate. So am I already in the process of disentangling and of leaving; is that why the big clear out? Energetically, I know the answer is yes. Leaving, not abandoning, to continue this work on an even broader canvas, having learned my sensitivities in this place.

Screen Shot 2018-11-10 at 10.14.55I’m not the first woman to have connected with this place or found solace in its countryside at the same time as playing witness to a rapidly disappearing way of life. My village – Spencers Wood – is a much maligned place in local minds and you would think it had no relatable history to speak of and yet, along with Three Mile Cross a mile or two away, it was the star of a popular book entitled Our Village (initially a series of magazine article, first pubished in book form 1824), written by Mary Russell Mitford virtually 200 years ago. I’m reminded by her that, when I first arrived here, it was a dream come true to get out of the town that she also moved from – nearby Reading. Like her, I was literally skipping down the lanes with joy on my daily walks for those first couple of years, just before my health seemed to crash (and a part of me has always equated even that event with a feeling of having arrived in a “toxic place”). Russell Mitford Screen Shot 2018-11-10 at 10.21.56also found great solace from moving here and for bizarrely similar reasons to mine. Before that she had lived, coincidentally, in the house right next door to the very building around which I centred most of dramas of my life, two decades ago and, when she moved here, it was in the wake of losing her first flush of fortune (a lottery win!) due to the drunken and wayward behaviour of her father who had squandered it all away in gambling debts (I too started life here flailing about in the aftermath of divorce and debt from a previous husband prone to drink and gambling). Her book “Our Village” was a spontaneous purchase I made long before I ever set foot in these villages or, honestly, heard of them and yet there it was, in the middle of my bookshelf, enticing me to go there with her for at least a decade before that. It was years later, having coincidentally moved to the very places referred to in the book, that I finally picked it up and found reference to “my” common and other places that I frequent nearly every day.

Light Grounding – oil on ‘floating’ paper, Helen White, 2013

One of them is a country estate in the next village of Swallowfield, where Russell-Mitford used to take tea with the likes of Dickens, whose dog Bumble’s grave I walk past on my own dog-walks. She later moved to a little house there, close to the gatehouse that I know so well and I get the impression she was nurtured in that community by those who appreciated her sensitivities and quiet yet potent wisdom. In my way, I know I feel like that too for, though I’ve lived here very quietly, I make myself heard to those who have an ear for it, in other ways (not, in my case, my neighbours who hardly know me); I can only imagine what use Russell-Mitford would have made of the internet. I pass her grave most days; such as the other evening at dusk when I found a lit candle left for her on All Saints, as there always is…evidence that I’m not the only one to still bear her in mind. It feels profound to have so many synchronicities strung across the years with this other woman who clearly “felt this place”; like glistening threads of a far-reaching spider’s web…and as though we see it beyond all the stuff that time and toil is putting it through. Partly, my fascination with Russell-Mitford is because she also found herself in the midst of a landscape that was in the throes of often quite abhorrent manmade upheaval; perhaps not such rapid, careless and desperate-seeming changes as I am bearing witness to but you can’t help but get the feeling she was speaking out for, and trying to record for posterity, a more nature-oriented way of life that was already well under threat of extinction when she wrote her best remembered book.

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Golden Hedgerow I – oil on canvas, Helen White, 2014

That country estate, where she must have tripped her way up the drive to take tea and discuss the ever churning wheels of “progress” with some of her era’s most opinionated minds, is somewhere I walk almost every day. It too is under invasion; not by houses (yet) but by the feet of the massive influx of people that pour from them. It’s a private estate so not technically “open” to the public, though estate mangers have long turned a blind eye to walkers just as long as the sheep aren’t disturbed and the countryside code adhered to. Well, at least so far though, as littering increases, gates are left open and cars brought into the field, I wonder how long that tolerance will continue. For years, I could walk my dog there taking photographs for over an hour and not see a soul. It’s a place where I’ve sighted kingfishers, many hundreds of red kites,  all varieties of small birds, numerous generations of nesting swans, the seasonal come-and-go of huge gaggles of Canada and Egyptian geese, the gathering of small white egrets and, many times, photographed a resident barn owl that I consider a companion of sorts due to how often she shows up and shadows my route at dawn or dusk. Mountains and mountains of nature photographs, video footage of light on the water, all the seasons recorded in minute detail and, yes, more paintings have been born out of my long intimacy with this place. However, in the last few months, the vibe has completely altered to where I have to pace myself not to bump into the numerous clumps of people now walking there in what seems to be a community social event more-so than a country ramble. At certain times of day (rapidly becoming all times of the day) there are just so many people walking the circuit with small dogs or kids with bikes, scooters, frisbees and remote control toys that its like a municipal park and the voices of women shout-talking as they power-walk carries across the air, killing dead the likelihood of a rare bird sighting or the illusion of being in unspoilt Nature. It’s a frequent thing to find the remnants of picnics or drinking binges left by the water’s edge and teenagers now converge there to do what teenagers do. Its good, overall, that more people are seeking out Nature walks but the lack of respect is what rattles me.

Golden Hedgerow II – oil on canvas, Helen White 2014

Without turning to sour grapes (that’s not the point of this post), I want to get back to my original epiphany, being that it’s the very fact that these places are struggling, under threat, becoming very much the rarity and may not (at least in this location) be around for very much longer that makes my work so important. That work is to feel and to translate what I still know is there…the very pulse coming from the earth beneath my feet, the natural cycles which, after all, will always triumph even if it takes decades or hundreds of years to reclaim what we do to the surface with our bulldozers and mess. If something is about to be forced back under ground and paved over in this location then I want to be able to say that I heard it before it departed and that I spoke it outloud at the surface before it retreated without so much as a whimper of regret from the majority of people… so we can remember what we did in more enlightened times than these. I see, I hear, I notice…and the time I spend tuning into these precious things is a more worthy way to spend my time than dashing to where these beautiful and unspoilt things still come so easily due to, for the moment, the welcome absence of hoards of people and the convenient lifestyles they crave.

The Gloaming – digital painting, Helen White, 2017

Each time I have focussed with my paintbrush or camera on all the beauty that is still there…still there…just about still there if you have the eyes to see it and heart to feel, its as though I have been turbo-boosting it, encouraging it, energising it enough to hold on a little longer. I can’t make anyone listen to me lament what is being so wantonly abused and deeply, thoughtlessly, trodden under-foot by the heavy footprint of “man”, but as so many other women have given voice to before me, I can spotlight what is already there in the hope to stir some nostalgia for keeping it; some reminiscence of ways as ancient as they are intrinsic to our very humanity since they connect us with the earth and our health and our soul.

Yes I could have turned to writing on this topic over all these years; could have written about this many times and oh-so much more angrily, agressively…such as on the many occasions that I’ve returned from my walk enraged by yet another incidence of fly tipping by the water’s edge (they happen nearly every week), yet I see how that would have felt like feeding the negativity and lowering the tone, including mine. Rather, the way for me to be most effective has been to convey the positivity of what I experienced in these places and to share some of the pure essence of all the exquisite beauty that I perceive in the hope that it stirs others to do likewise and then to care about it. As with my own circumstances, including my chroncially struggling health for all those years, I turned to what was positive and then amplified it; and art was my best medium for doing this.

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Sanctuary – digital artwork, Helen White, 2017

So…I take new pause to realise…this seemingly mismatched place has been perfect for me in so many ways; has been “by design” for my higher purpose. In its nursery, I learned to express what wasn’t being seen by too many others, though I perceived it clearly through my foggiest years, as chronic health and financial worries turned me for solace to the Nature on my doorstep. Those pockets of Nature reached out to me, to start with, through the similarity of our plight; a kinship of feeling bullied and unappreciated, abused and curtailed, struggling and sickly…then we sought the most life-affirming qualities in each other in order to keep going. Living here taught me, the hypersensitive soul, how to live amongst hordes of people (not a mountain top in sight!) yet find my inner peace, my healing solitude, my deeper layers. It kept me in contact with the vibration of other people and all they are about…things I sense on the very airwaves as heavy traffic drives by…until I perceived the missing chord from their symphony so that I could be that very vibe, edging towards something more whole as a collective experience. Having found its frequency, I offered it up via what I wrote and, mostly, what I painted; none of which I was doing when I first arrived here yet, in time, these pursuits grew from me eagerly, determinedly, in the soil of this place, like a shoot necessarily seeking light.

Yes, living here served me both on the surface of all my excuses, with all its conveniences for raising a family, the need to be in this well-connected location and, far deeper than all that, as the foil against which I unwittingly rallied my vision of a more Nature-connected way, one I became so impassioned about from the sheer contrast with what I was seeing, since it is from the pushing point of opposites that all momentum is born. I like to think I’ve swept some grace through these places over the years; doing what grace does best, mixing up the light and the dark so that the line between them becomes softened…perhaps even more radiant. I like to think that in getting closer to finding my wholeness here, against all odds, I’ve increased the odds for all things that I’ve brushed past on my wending way.

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Where Grace Has Been – oil on canvas, Helen White 2016

Now I have something else that I feel compelled to offer my “voice” (in all its many forms…since to paint and create is, equally, to express, as are all the ways we choose to live our lives, leading by example). This one has no requirement that I be living here in particular or, indeed, anywhere else for that matter so, in a sense, I am done with the work of partnering with my immediate locale, in the specific, though I continue to appreciate, honour and hold space for its resilient Nature-gifts, which remain imprinted into all of these artworks and all that I am. Long may they hold out (and I see them having the last say, as Nature always does). Energetically speaking, I am set free from my contract (let life catch up soon…) and can choose from the heart. Who knows how this new thing and its requirement of “no particular place” might release me from an attachment to being in this place, which has so long been the invisible subplot to why I never managed to leave…and it only remains for me to surrender and discover how that plays out.

Suddenly, I feel newly calm about my circumstances…less harried about going anywhere…easy about seeing how or when it develops (knowing it will). Several other things have eased my resistance to being here of late including that I’ve invested more energy into making this home match my new priorities (now that the child-rearing years are over). This all tells me the bonds are softening…because, at some level, I now feel complete here; have found my wholeness “in spite” of all that I once resisted. Who knows how this new state could present me with unforeseen opportunities to be elsewhere and in ways I could never have orchestrated through “planning” them; since nothing attaches us more powerfully to another thing than our resistance to it!

Most of all, I discover I am feeling free and easy about how it all plays out now; without attachment to being in some pristine, Instagramable place in order to follow my inspiration, remain in my solitude or manifest my best life since (I’ve shown) these aren’t conditional on outward circumstance. That feels like the biggest liberation and transformation point of all…as I sit at my desk feeling distinctly unharried by all the Friday afternoon traffic speeding past my window and breathe deeply into the only home I ever truly need in order to remain grounded, being the inner dwelling of myself.


All included artworks here were inspired by scenes local to Spencers Wood village and Swallowfield Park, Berkshire; an area targeted by one of the most intensive growth plans in the south east due to its proximity to London.


For the full collection of original artworks by Helen White visit www.helenwhite.org and for digital prints, www.helenwhite.uk. You can see my full professional profile here.

Posted in Art, Art purpose, Art transformation tool, Consciousness & evolution, Conservation, Health & wellbeing, Landscape art, Life choices, Life journey, Menu, Nature, Personal Development, Recovery chronic illness, Symbolic journeys, Walks | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 4 Comments

…then a wonderful thing happened

I had a fascinating experience last week when an urge came upon me to clear out a room that we laughingly called “the study” but which was two-thirds painting storage, some book cases and wardrobes and, the rest, a load of junk. I’ve been in the process of recalibrating all my spaces since our daughter flew the nest, knowing I needed to declutter from the old life before stepping into the new.

So I took all these paintings out of storage and out of their layers of wrap to appraise what I had. Hard as it is for me to believe, its been almost two years since I painted in oils, which is what I’d previously done for over a decade and become best known for. Yes, I ‘ve dabbled in acrylics and mostly been busy creating digital artworks and fabric designs since then but I was painfully aware of that time-lapse in the flow of what used to consume me week in and week out. I really haven’t been able to decide whether this marked the end of my painting years or just a pause of breath because the urge had simply vanished.

I’d even got as far as telling myself my artworks really weren’t that accomplished, that I’m no great artist in a commercial or celebrity artist sense so it must be time to own up to the fact…give it up…all that left brain judgemental stuff based on ideas we have of what success should look like and from looking at the surface of the “pictures” without feeling into their energetic layers. So when I took all this work out of storage and had another look after such a long pause, I was surprised to realise I was quite impressed by a few pieces. Some even spoke to me even more now than they did when they were newly finished. It was always “a thing” about my art that it would have some deeper, more symbolic message, to convey to me, in the months or immediate years after painting it, after I had hung it up in my house; and it would become an energetic partnership of sorts…and then, one day, I would get the sign that our work together was done and that I was ready to find that particular artwork its new home/partner. With some of these that I was being newly drawn to, and one in particular, I realised that deeper work had never even begun…I hadn’t even wanted it on my wall when I finished it, odd though that struck me to be, though perhaps it was because I had laboured over it for quite a long time before I was happy enough to call it finished. Newly hanging opposite my bed, it now seems to have loads to say to me, well over two years since it was finished, so the time for collaboration seems to be now, at a time when I can get beyond my focus on its physical imperfections as the ever-critical artist (having forgotten all the ins and outs of painting it) and into the deeper layers.

So, having picked out the pieces I felt drawn to keep (based on powerful gut feelings, not sentimentality or “ought to”s, not even on ideas of “this is a more/less accomplished painting”), I put together a collection of the remaining artworks to offer to other people who might see something in them that they were looking for. I put them out there with a simple invitation, paraphrased as follows: “If you feel drawn to any of these pieces and if you feel you could offer it an appreciative home, please just make me an offer…doesn’t have to be grandiose, it could even be a swop with something from your skillset…just so long as you really feel drawn to the piece and would like it (and can pay the shipping)”.

Of course, I was hopeful of some sort of response as my whole project to clear (literal and energetic) space relied on it; none of these pieces would do well in my cold, damp garage over winter. What I wasn’t quite prepared for was how quickly I started to hear from people, all from amongst my Facebook friends, though the folder of images was viewed a staggering hundred plus times on Flickr in the following hours. Before I had even pulled on my boots to go out for my walk, having just thrown out the invitation, I was talking to someone about one, maybe two of the biggest pieces. By the time I got back I was juggling multiple threads of conversation. By the end of that evening, it was looking like over half a dozen artworks had found their new home and I am continuing to talk to people now. Bear in mind, art sales are a rare and beautiful thing to most painters and I could hope for this kind of response in a year, in any other circumstances.

The thing that was most remarkable of all was the feeling of there being such synchronistic timing between my action and all these people I was now talking to. The running theme seemed to be that they had all been waiting for a sign or a “thing” to nudge them into a new feeling-place or to mark a transition. One had been going through health issues and had literally just been given the go-ahead to work part-time from home so these pieces chosen for her home-office wall were like the seal on the deal, marking a new era of improved health. Others had been feeling “down for no reason” and I was told how my timely offer had swooped in and lifted them back up. A couple of people been going through challenging or even deeply unhappy circumstances so taking  the opportunity to claim a particular artwork, in spite of these hardships, felt like a cue that things had turned around or that they were about to find new inspiration. One was even purchased as a wedding gift from mother to daughter. Within hours, I had improved my own flailing cash flow considerably but had also done exchanges for holistic therapies and organic products, even for “nothing” much more than a priceless exchange of words with someone who had made more difference to me than they will ever know and the feeling that a particular artwork was meant to go to that particular person, right then, no argument. In fact I got the feeling, over and over again, that I had known all along that a certain painting was meant for a particular person…that all they were doing was claiming it in perfect timing and that all I had to do was act on that knowing without letting old mindsets get in the way.

The energetic gift to me, of all this, was beyond measuring. Quite apart from receiving such a boost to my confidence as an artist, when I heard about how much these artworks meant to people, how they transformed the way they were feeling about everything, how much they had been day-dreaming about hanging one of them on their wall for such a long time, I could feel my creative juices start to stir like they had been let out of the captivity of my own lack of self-belief. In fact, it felt great to be kicking this whole idea that what we day-dream about having is generally so far out of reach; I wanted to be instrumental in disproving that limiting belief system, regardless of any so-called material practicalities that seem to be standing in the way…knowing that, in dissolving this brain-warp, I was opening up my own potentiality too.

By the next morning, I could literally feel the new firehose-like flow of new ideas into the brand new spaces liberated by the outward shift of all the older energy that had been anchored in my old storage space…and now turned into a high-vibe work domain in which I can nurture my creative process away from the domestic part of the house. In fact, the main challenge since starting to work in this lovely space (which I’ve completely transformed into a lovely room in under a week) is to take pause and breathe between all the ideas that are now in full-throttle; and underneath all that, a stronger, calmer sense of purpose “as a painter” is starting to want to be heard, which gives me hope that I’m about to pick up my paints again, albeit in a new way. I feel so much lighter for shaking up all these canvases that had continued to hold onto the energy of the times when I was working on them and…having released them like a jar full of butterflies…knowing I have done right by them before expecting either them, or me, to move on to the new.

The potent sense I had, that 24 hours, of being at the centre of a beaded web of energetic exchange, conducting all these conversations which (if those in them had but known) shared so many common themes and me the unifying link at the centre, reaping so much benefit from the outpouring of love that was spiralling all around me, was quite unforgettable. In fact, it felt like I was hooking together the energetic charge of so many beautiful people who will never get to meet and yet who, for that short period of time, pooled their energies into something quantum and potent. I’ve been riding high on all that positivity and joy ever since; having felt more robust, more purposeful, more sparkly somehow for the whole experience and then doing what I can to share that feeling back out with those others. Even though some paintings remain and I’ve just added a handful more to the sale, nothing could ever replicate that first  exhilarating tidal wave of energetic exchange, which taught me something so important about how all exchanges could be conducted on a higher basis than what we have primarily come to regard as matters of “money”, “commerce”, “economics” and “business”. Instead of depleted…guarded….wary, as I often feel when forced to price-up and get business-like about my art, I felt fairly and, in fact, doubly reimbursed for all my time in production, even when partly “paid” in means that could not be so easily quantified. Above all, it is the sense that all parties gained equally from this fair exchange, in ways that will continue to flower and which have left their imprint as an energetic bridge from one heart to another, impacting those who took part and even those who engaged with the paintings in other ways over the course of so many conversations…bridges that are as far-reaching as these paintings are travelling to their new homes, some of them over oceans. True to say, I feel so incredibly expanded over all of this!

Its also fair to say that I’ve now remembered, in good time, why it is that I paint, and its got far less to do with the material artwork than the energetic layers that it contains. Another timely occurance in relation to all this is that, just as I was starting to feel called to do something about my stagnent output a couple of weeks ago, I was contacted out of the blue by Lee Harris, the globally aclaimed intuitive messenger and transformation leader. Lee purchase one of my paintings about five years ago and I had assumed that he must have forgotten about it by now; perhaps it got left behind when he moved house or was hanging in his cloakroom….Suddenly, there was Lee telling me he had been wondering about how I was doing as he and his partner still love my painting, which now hangs on their wall in Malibu. Since that conversation, of course, the whole area has been engulfed in fire but their house remained intact and I like to think the positive energy I charged my painting with played a small part. The exchange we had reminded me to look at what he had said about my artwork at the time. He said: “Your work is stunning – really beautiful. Scattered Light really spoke to me and something told me when I saw it that it would be healing for me to have around. It arrived and it is BEAUTIFUL! Thank you so much. Last night I had it on the wall while friends were over and every time I looked across at it, it was like a Portal or Window into another dimension. The way you captured the light in the painting is extraordinary”. I know there was no accident that he made contact just as I needed to be reminded of this; which is how energy art works. Something in that painting prompted him to deliver to me exactly the encouragement I needed to hear at a time that my spirit was flagging…and I have no doubt it led to me clearing out the room and instigating this whole chain of events.

So yes, it was a remarkable thing, this “occurrence” that began as an exercise in practicality yet became infinite in its potential just as soon as I stopped worrying about “how much” I would get back in material terms. Once that limiting idea (oh how it trips us up!) had been dispensed with, the free-flowing rewards were as exponential as they were immeasurable as they were available to all parties and there was such a strong sense that this was only the beginning; that these artworks would continue to flower on walls and in hearts for many years to come, as a reminder of all that is possible when love is the driving force.


 

If you’re curious about my art then you can view most of it at www.helenwhite.org. Then follow this Art SALE ORIGINALS link to my Flickr gallery of listed sale items as referred to in this post or ART SALE PRINTS (just added).

 

Posted in Art, Art as a business, Art metaphor, Art purpose, Art transformation tool, Consciousness & evolution, Menu, Personal Development, Symbolic journeys | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 5 Comments

The Sacredness of Life as purpose

I’ve been deeply feeling into my life purpose lately (well, we all are, to varying degrees of awareness). Its been a slippery topic for me, for the longest time and, for many years, felt like it had been taken out of my hands since my sole focus had to be on surviving…first in a financial sense and then because of my crashing health. Lately, there’s been a new strength burgeoning in me and that could be for a variety of practical reasons (yes, I could seek to explain it away) but I’ve also noticed how it relates to finding this thing…purpose.

One of the things that has really ignited me this year is a passion for speaking out about lifestyle choices that are not only life-affirming or at least benign (so many arn’t) when it comes to our health but for the life of others; choosing plant-based being one of them since it covers both bases. I’m sure you’ve noticed, as it keeps coming up in my topics here, that I’ve let this vegan theme out of the box lately; and no less in myself, where it has upgraded from being almost an accidental lifestyle choice as I sought better health to being a burning passion and even a rocket-launcher of new motivation.

It occurred to me this morning, just as I was starting to surface from sleep, that if I had to describe what underlies this passion in two or three words then it’s an unwavering belief in the Sacredness of Life.

This was always my purpose, really…hidden, before, beneath the thick layer of focus on my own survival through many trials as above. What kept me determined, and almost super-humanly so, through all those tough years, was an unwavering belief in the Sacredness of Life. If I hadn’t believed in that throughout every cell in my body, I would never have kept rising from the ashes of so many setbacks, or kept that determined smile on my face through all the reruns of symptoms that made no sense. Through it all, I just KNEW that life (my life, in this case) was far too sacred to give up on.

Now, I’ve expanded that focal point to include those who can’t speak up for themselves, in this case all the animals that get slaughtered (to the tune of 1 billion a week) in the name of what is merely a lifestyle preference for most of the world’s population. Yes, I concede there are exceptions; for those living in the artic circle or, say, parts of Africa where there is no other food option, I concede there has to be an exception made but, then, they do things differently, on a vastly smaller scale and so-much more respectfully too. But for most of us, the need to kill (or to get others to do it for us…) in order to stay alive is an untruth and I feel so impassioned to play my part in dispelling the misinformation.

Without getting onto that hobby-horse in this post, my curiosity is mostly about why that seems to have helped me to turn a corner in my own state of wellbeing. Ironically so, since my fear had long been that if I opened this particular box up, I would flounder beneath all the horror that my empathic soul would have to face up to, day-in-day-out (there is no avoiding the darker side of why you become a vegan activist, even if you choose to focus on sharing all the positivity around making a vegan choice). Rather than become mired in terrible darkness and trauma by diving into this passion, I seem to be having a new lease of life on the back of it, making it one of the most positive things I ever did. And I long to share that good news too; for all the sensitive types who are avoiding this much-more resonant lifestyle option for fear of being overwhelmed.

Well, an obvious reason this has turned me around is that, for one, I’ve set out to be a great example of what plant-based can do for your life so I have to be a fit and glowing example of that. So, at last, my body has a real-tangible purpose for getting better other than “just because”. A second reason is that its provided a purpose that is well-fitted to replace the original one…of personal survival…since it is built on the same core theme…The Sacredness of Life.

For me, I now see, no other life-purpose would ever have done; none of the others I tried on through all my many years of self-recovery would have been up to the job. Those I tried started with a burst of enthusiasm but never lasted for very long and left me feeling more depleted and confused. Some remain on the sideline of what I do but never feel enough to light my personal fire. This, in simplest terms, is because I came at them from the mind, not from the heart.

None of those other purposes that I tried on, such as being a Great Artist or a Life Coach or someone with a Consciousness Leadership role, fitted the inner job vacancy that my soul was advertising…because all of them were just a little too “human-oriented” in their perspective. All of them started from the basis of being, primarily, a human with a spiritual, mindful under-layer rather than a spiritual, mindful consciousness with a human outer shell. And for me, respecting that subtle difference in the balance is absolutely key to my success at being manifest as a human being. Yes, I know I’ve spent many years exploring this idea that we are all made up of two halves that need to come back together into wholeness for us to be healthy and manifest as our best human selves; and implicit in this was an idea that we should work to be in perfect balance, first. Its only lately that I’ve conceded that we tend to come at this equation with slighty different proportioned sections our ourselves and that we need to be accepting of these proportions, before we can come back into our own personal version of wholeness (we are, after all, individuised expressions of divinity and not carbon-copies of one another).

This tip in favour of the non-physical aspect, in my case, underlies everything that I am about and I see that now. And it can be a confusing balance to have when you are being an optimistic, outward-looking, agent of growth towards the manifestation of something distinctly “of this world”. This can mimic being far more manifest, to start with, than you really are since you can do a passingly-good impersonation of people that are much more “of this world” than you are, especially as you are often enthused by their projects. Yet to be enthused doesn’t necessarily mean you want to join in or do things their way and this has been a steep learning curve for me. Many of my friends share my interests but are much better at being humans when it comes to putting these preoccupations into action; whereas I am far better at staying with at least one foot in the abstract and to ignore this is to tip over, in my case. Importantly, it is not something I need to “cure” or “get over”, rather its something I’ve realised I need to learn to understand and work with yet this only confused me even more about my purpose, until recently. Because the loudest, most manifest humans with whom I relate (and I think this is true of the world right now…it may change) are people who are much more embodied than I tend, or even want, to be. That’s not because they are doing better than me (I bring important skills to the table); they are just better suited to cope with the world as it is currently set-up (again, that might change…and more of us may feel able to come out into the world as opportunities become more closely matched to our skillset, which is currently underappreciated and often despised).

When I go off this blueprint, everything seems to “go wrong for me” as I am a spiritual being first, a human second and that’s just the way I’m made. As soon as those spiritual aspects get too meshed up in matters of money and marketing and organisation and strategy and communication and…and…and…I lose the very inspiration that keeps them fuelled. I’ve watched it happen time and time again; so, why?

The answer came in the form of the moon right over my head on all my walks from Saturday until last night; a small crescent moon, very clear in the dusk…a waxing crescent not many days old. My moon!

In his “Book of the Moon”, revered astrologer Steven Forrest divides the waxing crescent into two portions. First is what he calls The Living Symbol (The Legend): “Charisma. Star quality. Presence. Nurturing Qualities. Leadership. Seductive vagueness. Innocence and Naiveté. Becoming symbolic to others, making others into symbols. Bringer of gifts”. The second portion he calls The Extremist, with key concepts “Drive to accomplish and experience. Hunger. Imbalance. success – and its costs. Presence. Natural authority. Radiant, infectious hope in the face of darkness”. He goes on “The emerging soul impulse is still suffused with a sense of recent emergence from the Holy of Holies, still on fire with something that is fundamentally untranslatable into human terms. Being a waxing phase, there is a mood of outrushing intensity, an urge towards manifestation”.

Yes, I can relate…you can feel chock full of energy and nowhere to go with it…since few want to receive what you have to share; and that feeling of repeated rebuff can cause all sorts of problems for the person born under the waxing crescent. Ours is not a currency that is popularly in circulation…yet.

I wrote about studying the moon phases earlier this year and it made fascinating stuff since I used my new-found information to work out the moon phase of pretty much everyone I know. I found this data so much more interesting than I’ve ever found sun-based astrology since it matched up so astonishingly closely with the personality traits of these people. More, it matched their particular relationship between spiritual and worldly aspects of themselves, you could say yin and yang, dark and light, in ways that correlated with their stories to date and near-enough everything that felt most intrinsic to them at the deeper levels of their humanness. I’ve made a party piece of guessing people’s moon phase and then working it out for them to check the correlation (I was doing this again, just recently, for new friends I made on our trip to Italy and had an avid audience) and the outcome has generally been quite astonishing. Above all, this knowledge has imparted so much insight into my own often fragile humanness and that of my husband, who shares almost the same moon phase as I.

So, if I was to anticipate how a person born under a waxing moon would operate in a world dominated by more material concerns, what would I guess? Well, for starters, that person would be more spiritual than human, more abstract than manifest…and yet….they would always be growing towards manifestation, like a shoot pushing out of the dark soil of potential. Yet this irresistible urge to grow “out there” into the human domain is likely to have frustrated and even hurt them many times over as the already-manifest world is an abrasive place and not one that has been designed or influenced by many waxing moon types; well, not in recent history. In fact, most of them have become so wounded by now that they often prefer to stay in the dark, their heads buried deep under the ground and turned away from typical human behaviours (which can be unsightly). It’s not been an easy ride for waxing moon types over the last long period of history!

Yet, like any seedling long nestled under the ground, even in a dessert, those of us born to this moon phase have lately started to detect that the time to grow to where we would be more visible again might be upon us. We’ve sensed a few more nutrients coming our way in the soil of life plus a few more hints of the sun’s warmth, a few drops of moisture, to encourage and beckon us forwards. Newly encourage, many of us have tried again…some to get “burned” all over again…but the point is to keep trying, to keep seeking that thing that drives and supports you; which comes from your inherent purpose.

Which brings me back, once again, to that life purpose of mine…a deep, compelling understanding of the Sacredness of Life. I’ve reestablished this many times over in this lifetime (plus all the others) and, feeling newly nourished and encourage, I’m now ready to break that soil, it seems; or to at least do the ground work so others can capitalise on my stirrings, though (like many of us) I sense I’m wanting more of an active part, now, than to keep fertilising the soil with my own breakdowns. As long as I keep to that purpose, every project I take on will have my deepest understanding of All That I Am, stored like rocket fuel, ready for my engine. It’s why I’ve been feeling so manifest lately; so strong, so improved, so much more robust, so full of energy.

Which means that as long as I stick to this underlying purpose…not getting taken off track again by the heavy load of trauma or conflict (being a leader in the plant-based revolution brings you very close to these things; my task being to keep to what feels light-filled and life-affirming) I will be right on track, with my energy easily replenished. You could say I will have the wind behind my sails or, to keep to the running metaphor, the earth’s most potent nutrients coursing through my xylem and phloem, allowing me to grow strong enough to withstand any extremes in the weather or the occasional boot that would like to stamp on my head. When we are fuelled by our life purpose, it takes so much more than that external stuff to take us off purpose.

To double-check this theory, I see the very same trends running through my husband’s career highs and low, as measured from the personal-satisfaction and wellbeing perspective, which has become ever more important to him lately. When he tries to be too manifest in terms of “good” business strategy, number crunching and all that stuff, or even to gets drawn into money markets and all that material focus, he flounders, his energy runs dry and he literally has to take time out to withdraw “back to earth” to recuperate. But when he uses his intrinsic belief in the Sacredness of Life to fuel his reason for getting up in the morning, in his case to assist and mentor people to rediscover all that feels most sacred to themselves and then prioritise this vision over financial stage-fright or life’s long list of “should-dos” (he is a life planner and yogi, and helps people to realise their heart-passions) then he is full of vim and vigour and can keep going with astonishing amounts of energy, whether at work or at play. In fact, his work no longer feels like work on those occasions and seems to give him back his own intrinsic energy ten fold each time he makes a difference to another person’s path.

For me, my focus doesn’t have to be plant-based diet as such (no such limitation) but any project fuelled by a desire to convey and to remind others of the Sacredness of Life seems to be “my thing”, which gives me plenty of scope – since sacredness is everywhere!

And if, for the moment, I happen to see it more so than others then my task is not to make others wrong or to patronise them but, rather, to facilitate them seeing what they might be overlooking or, if they see it, hardly dare to believe is so. Life is so sacred to me that I can’t bear to have others not see it for themselves and my gift is to share what I know.

So, really, this piece is directed at others with a waxing moon phase; if you happened upon this post, having often wondered what it was that made life so hard and even purposeless in your case when others seem to thrive, then know that it shouldn’t be the case…and that you are probably not that far off from flipping everything in your favour. The point is, first off, to realise that you are not “made” like everyone else and to recognise and honour those differences as the unused gifts that they probably are. You have a purpose but it may not look like anyone else’s purpose (though it is beneath the surface…yours is just wrapped up in slightly different priorities). Yours may sound a lot more abstract than theirs when you find it…but that’s not to say it can’t be put to practical use. The point is to identify that purpose (what has been the one thing that seems most important to you and which has driven you along, throughout all the various “projects” of your life, even “accidental” ones such as claiming your health back…) and then use that to fuel your own chosen trajectory. Yes, you can and will grow out of the dark places that may have become your home or your hide-y-hole for so long; but you need the right scaffolding to assist you to do that and, like all the best scaffolding, this needs to be supportive from within. Then, you can become manifest in this world.

Of course, I can already hear people declaring “how can sacredness be a purpose…you need to be an (insert job title) or an (insert career opportunity/project/enterprise)”. Well yes, as long as they are a vehicle for expressing the Sacredness of Life then I’m there and I think its true to type.

Because sacredness is probably everything to you if you are a waxing crescent, whether or not you have even started to realise this yet…since you remember, more so than many others, where you come from and where you go back to when the human merry-go-round stops this particular ride. Without this conscious awareness of your own divinity and, then, a desire to operate from this focal point, even in a world that often denies or brushes off our collective sacred source, you will probably be like the bean stalk that falls over in a wind…because it is like denying who you really are. Once found, this deep-inner knowing of whatever your sacred theme is…and which you long to make more manifest in the world…will be all you ever need to support, replenish and sustain you; I feel quite confident of this.

Posted in Books, Consciousness & evolution, Life journey, Menu, Personal Development, Spirituality | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Fate worse than death

This is a post I put out on social media yesterday and it caught more positive attention than anything I had previously posted, which I take such heart from.

SentienceI said, let’s take a moment on 11/11 to really digest this: “We kill and eat over 57 billion animals a year, not counting fish and other aquatic animals, which involves probably another trillion animals at the least. A billion is one thousand million. So every year we are responsible for a staggering number of deaths”. (From Eat Like You Care – Gary L Francione).

How many people have lost their lives to a war? It came to about 40 million in WWI. The number is dwarved by this. Yes, wars are terrible things, of course they should cease. In fact all killing should cease. No killing has a place in our future, regardless of species. We should be mindful of all the killing…and work to end all of it from this moment onwards. We do this just as soon as we commit to cease our part in it, in all the daily choices we make. Let’s not just lament the past, let’s make a real difference to our future, together. Let’s consign ALL those numbers to the history books.

This morning, the phrase “fate worse than death” popped into my head wanting to be used. It’s a phrase we bandy around a lot…but how often do we think about it? So I found myself starting to use it and then stopped myself as I’ve made my peace with death since coming to see it not so much as an ending but as  a beginning or a reboot into different form so what is the emotional “charge” held within this phrase, why does it still hold sway? Why do we react so at the thought, say, of very high numbers of people dying in a war; why does that wrench at the gut long after the event compared to, say, the same number of people dying of old age if death is the “worse” thing that can happen? Because it’s the process of getting there, the heinous methods devised then inflicted, that claw at our guts and bring our shared sense of humanity to its knees. We gather together in collective grief and outrage when we contemplate such things, as we should.

Likewise, for me, it’s not the death aspect itself that holds the electric current of fear but the lead up or the means to it, all the pain and suffering that so often gets us there, that is my least favourite contemplation. It’s the long and prolonged process to death’s door that fills me with abhorrence, having witnessed a dear one go through the long and distressing cancer process and having had several brushes, as we all have, with other such experiences across the course of my life. It happens, all too often, in old age, as dignity flies out the window along with everything else, and this becomes a dread for many of us. So I’ve seen, first hand, how its the life, not the death, that is the terrible thing; or at least it is when it is a torturous thing that seems to dissect a life, piece by piece. As a species, we are brought together by a universal distaste for prolonged, unpleasant, torturous circumstances and thus a desire to alleviate such situations.

So when people say, and they do, that all’s well with the meat industry, for instance, I stall in my tracks due to all the pain my empathic soul has experienced around this topic. When they make out that the “food” on their plate is the end product of this pristine process (they even deem to use the word “humane”) by which the sentient animal in the field enjoying sunshine on its back and well-tended, one day, is now dead and doesn’t even know it or, perhaps, willingly sacrificed itself to us in the rightful order of things (yes, some people still believe this convenient fabrication, consciously or otherwise) then I fall to my knees in bewildered non-compute. Because the process by which the creature, whatever it is, gets to its “end” is seldom pristine, brief or painless. It is brutal, clumsy and malevolent, fuelled along by the petty vengeance and gross mishandling of bored or disheartened employees who take out their bad days through their misappropriated sense of power over others. It is terrifying and blooded and over-wrought in every way, over heinously prolonged time frames, for creatures who use instincts and second-senses far more we do to determine that unpleasant things are about to unfold. Gentle creatures who batted their trustful eyelashes and nuzzled eager curiosity towards friendly hands reached out over farmyard fences days before are subjected to distress, pain, indignity and gruesomeness that would traumatise the average human being to behold (thus most choose to deny and avoid). They are crammed and dehydrated, pushed and beaten towards their helpless demise and often far less than stunned and often not yet dead when they go through process that don’t even bear thinking about.

Macca1It is my deep empathic “knowing” that this goes on behind high walls somewhere near where I live, every day of my life, that disturbs me so much I can hardly make peace with this world. It is the knowing that it lies ahead on their experience path, as sure as the sun will rise in the morning, for all those creatures I engage with on my walks or photograph and paint for my work and, again, this makes me want to fall to my knees and just weep and weep for our collective lack of heart.  Yet we still hold up “death” as the universal horror of the peace, as though it is the worse possible outcome that can befall us, as conscious beings, which gives weight to those who argue that death for animals destined to be meat is quick and painless, even of no consequence to creatures that have no foreknowledge that it will happen and no ability to ruminate in advance. No, it is LIFE that, for these helpless creatures just as it is for us, is the very devil due to our sentience…which is our universal ability to FEEL and to KNOW things through all of the senses, a collective ability that can be referred to as our emotional mind or even heart mind…which is far superior to the mind we equate with our rational thoughts. Deep down, to varying degrees, we all know this, whether we choose to accept it or not. It’s why we live in so much fear of the death process, whether we own to these fears or not…since we feel our way all the way to its door…and yet our entire culture is built upon a practice that inflicts our very worse fears on others.

If you tend towards a karmic view of this world then you might relate to the phrase “what goes around comes around”…what we do we get back. Others whose words we revere have said that we should only do to others what we are prepared to have happen to ourselves. Yet we wail, like wronged children, at the unfairness of how long, drawn-out and painful so many of our demises are; why cancer is the every second-or-third-person horror show waiting in the sidelines or why life can seem to get harder and more torturous with each passing year. For ourselves, we wish for something so much better, hoping something will flip better fortune, ripe old age and a peaceful death to us and our loved ones, and yet for over 50 billion creatures per year, not including aquatic, we bring upon them this “fate worse than death” at a rate of 10 billion horror-show death processes a week. How bizarre to me is this disconnect between what we wish for ourselves yet continue put out there as “reasonable” behaviour towards others. Try as I might, I cannot understand why more people don’t get to the point where it’s just so obvious how far we stray from putting out what we wish to receive back…or its simple solution. I feel hurt by the lack of sensiivity displayed by my fellow humans and it goes deeply to my heart to know this about them, however circumspect I try to be. Yes, more people than ever are waking up to this but I would have expected a tidal wave and am still not seeing it. I can only surmise that there is such ingrained programming blinkering people’s ability to join those very easy dots that it will only be once they wake or shake up from all their other conditioned states that they start to see this and be horrified at how we have all been conducting ourselves.

 


If you are not already vegan and are ready to at least open into balanced discussion of all the many “yeah, but..”s that inevitably come up in relation to this topic, I recommend three excellent books:

Why We Love Dogs, Eat Pigs and Wear Cows is written by Melanie Joy, PhD whose work to bring this dialogue out into the mainstream has been tireless. Her latest book is Beyond Beliefs: A Guide to Improving Relationships and Communication for Vegans, Vegetarians, and Meat Eaters and does what it says on the can.

Eat Like You Care: An Examination of the Morality of Eating Animals by Gary L Francione & Anna Charlton goes through all the moral issues clearly, unimotively and, yes, by applying straightforward, almost court-room style logic to what can be quite loaded topics for many people. It demonstrates beyond reasonable doubt that ‘there is nothing “extreme” about a vegan diet; what is extreme is the inconsistency between what we say we believe and how we act where animals are concerned.’

In the most heartfelt way I can, I urge all of my readers to at least pick up the first on this list and read it with an open mind. It won’t traumatise you but it might expand your heart in ways you will be so glad you allowed to happen (I’ve not met a single person who has regretted this happening to them).

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Energetic time machine

“…every year in early November, Earth passes through a broad stream of debris from Comet Encke. The resulting drizzle of meteors emerging from the horns of Taurus is remarkable, not for its quantity, because Taurid meteor rates tend to be low, but rather for its luminosity. Comet Encke produces fireballs–meteors so bright that they can cast shadows on the ground.” (Spaceweather 2 November 2018.)

The Taurid meteor shower always flags up as a point of interest for me as I seem to feel it as it occurs. No really, every year, I seem to have a heightened pain episode around this time and, because I check the spaceweather reports for GM and other events that affect my health rhythms due to being electro-sensitive, I will often clock that this meteor shower is underway at around this time of year. A small part of me has joked internally, for years, that perhaps I’m being pelted with rocks and fireballs because that’s what it can feel like in this season.

This year I took a closer interest because Spaceweather mentioned that these meteors, which are bigger and come closer than most, often causing bright fireballs in the sky,  are likely the debris of a cataclysm 20 to 30,000 years ago.

“Encke’s debris stream may be unusual because it is actually detritus from the breakup of a much larger comet some 20 to 30 thousand years ago. At least two small asteroids (2015 TX24 and 2005 UR) share the approximate orbits of Taurid gravel swarms, and there may be other small space rocks hiding in the stream as well. It all bespeaks a catastrophic event in the past–and potentially spectacular fireballs in the future. Every night in the next two weeks is a good time to look as Earth crosses the zone of debris.” (A piece of the comet Encke from the Taurid meteor shower burned up over Arizona this week after hitting the atmosphere at 65,000 mph –  read full article on Spaceweather 2 November 2018.)

My regulars know I have a special interest in the possible cataclysms this planet has undergone in the past as I have long played with the theory (set in motion by reading Barbara Hand Clow’s excellent book “Awakening the Planetary Mind: Beyond the Trauma of the Past to a New Era of Creativity”) that a past cataclysm set our planet on “tilt” – literally and metaphorically – by causing a significant change in climate along with the deep emotional-trauma that has become embedded in humanity like a post traumatic ailment affecting our psyche in ways we are still in recovery from. Such a fear~separation~lack~survival mentality, which does indeed seem to be deeply embedded in our collective DNA, would go a long way to explain ways that our history has played out since, taking us on a trajectory that we are only just starting to step back from with any degree of objectivity as we make new conscious choices…doing so as (like any recoveree from trauma) we gain conscious “handle” on what we’ve been through and stop ourselves short from repeating those same fear-based behaviours on endless loop. As we start to gain this new perspective of ourselves, we see how we have been off-centre and all the ways we can redress that. Our chronic patterns come up for review and we notice the opportunity to move on.

So what if these rock visitors to our near environment carry the reminder of something we’ve been through, as a species, in the far distant past…either when predicted in the above article or at some more recent time, as Hand Clow speculates (or both since repeated traumas always embed the deepest). These meteor rocks are, as all things, molecular chunks of energy holding a record of all they have been through,  like a direct remnant of the past, and as big as pebbles in many cases. In my view, we are getting close to a time when it will become more general to take into account our broader environment, to include the higher atmosphere and way beyond, when it comes to assessing the inter-relationship with our human energy field. We are not living in isolation from the universe, or what is commonly refered to as “space”, as most people seem to think (an idea as ridiculous and naive to me as the world being flat or the other planets circling around earth, as was also once commonly believed).

“Sprites are an exotic form of lightning that shoot up from the tops of thunderstorms. Although such sprites have been seen and reported for centuries, many people did not believe they existed until researchers from the University of Minnesota finally captured them on film in 1989. Now we know — sprites are real, and they’re made of electricity.” (Spaceweather 1 November 2018 – sprites are another elusive space phenomenon seen to “rain down” on Earth and their occurrence is often associated with meteor shower events.)

Yes, another space phenomenon observed to be raining down on earth this week are sprites, otherwise known as space lightning. These are, in effect, energy rain known to be full of electricity….as are we. A reminder that energetic particles, of all sizes, enter our atmosphere all the time; all of them holding a particular “charge” and reminding us of our universally shared origins beyond anything we remember with our heads. As I have learned through sheer necessity, when we open up and become responsive to our energy field beyond the five senses, we encounter what are usually unacknowledged energies that are as much a part of our experience as anything we think we know though logical routes and we share a common history with these…in fact, there is no linearity in the sense of “history” since what happened “a very long time ago” is current, relevant and open to transformation. We can write new endings for things that feel ancient, embedded and stuck when we work openly like this….and all the data our sensitivity can throw up for us is relevant which is why it is no bad thing to feel what might otherwise make you uncomfortable (if you were to approach it with the mind).

While these kinds of thought might sound “out there” for now, it’s simply because the extent to which our energy field stores emotion, and is subjected to reminders of “the past” by similar energy-conditions that replicate what we have labelled traumatic, is only just starting to be understood…initially by those of us who are most energetically sensitive. As above, my energy body is sensitive to a fault when it comes to GM storms, solar flares, sunspots and other spaceweather events such as Co-rotating Interaction Regions (transition zones between slow- and fast-moving streams of solar wind which contain density gradients and compressed magnetic fields that often spark auroras) which are what I fondly refer to as “the lemon squeezer”. So perhaps I am energetically sensitive enough to be picking up a reminder of deep trauma once a year as these reminder messages come close as the Taurid shower. After all, energy never goes away, it just shifts around and, if we still hold the matching energy frequency in our cells, which is then able to read what it “says” (a quantum potential, surely, if part of our energetic body experienced the same event that it is the reminder of…) then it can return its energetic message to us in some very timely ways, like a life-review of sorts.

Yes, just like a quantum messenger from “the past” and all we have been through and learned from experience (we’ve come such a long way; its time to reap the benefits of what we’ve been through now). This happens to us all the time; subtle cues in our environment (could be a scent or a song on the radio…so why not a meteor shower) can open up these memory pockets to allow us to reprocess them again and again…hopefully in new and ever more evolved ways each time it “happens”. So, if we are starting to reprocess some of the deepest traumas of all, those which set us off on the planetry trajectory of thousands of years’ worth of fear-based thinking, then we are getting into some seriously transformational potential as a collective right now. Just a bit of a mind-bender and food for thought on this early November morn.

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